Theory on the Origins of Primal Weapons
Many people have wondered about the origins of Primal Weapons. What are they? Why do they exist? This is my theory.
The Amalja’a approached their Lord Ifrit one day. Taking to a knee, they placed offerings before him, and prayers.
“Your devotion has pleased me, my children.” Ifrit said. “Soon we we spread out across Eorzea, and take all the lands under the burning sun as our own.”
“Yes, my Lord Ifrit.” The chieftan said. “But… The smoothskins have weapons we cannot match, and they begin to dabble in the foul mechanations of the Garleans. Such a war will be difficult.”
Ifrit considered a moment. “You have me as your Lord. By my power you will prevail. As you are instruments of my will, I shall gird you accordingly.” With that, he broke off his own horn, and several of his own claws. The appendages grew back in flame instantly, and he took the parts of himself and concentrated, using the flames to shape and reform them. “You shall carry a part of me into every battle, and with it a fragment of my power. Red hot blades to melt and cleave even the sturdiest armor, fire blessed staves and scepters to quicken your magicks, and bows to wreath your arrows in flame. All these I gift to you.” The weapons, now complete, were lowered onto the ground by the Primal.
“My… my Lord!” The Chief was astounded and humbled by the gift. “Thy generosity knows no bounds!” He picked up one of the lances, watching as the tip caught alight, burning like an ember. But then he closed his eyes, and put the weapon down. “No. Such holy relics as these need be reserved for only the direst need, and the worthiest of warriors.” He turned to his people. “Hear me! We shall wage war as it has never been known on the sands of Thanalan! We will drive the smoothskins before us like a firestorm, and those who prove themselves worthy in this great conflict shall then be chosen to bear our Lord’s gift when the day comes to storm Ul’Dah itself! Until that day, these holy relics will remain here, in his care.”
The Amalja’a horde roared in approval. Already each of them planned what feats of heroism and might they may accomplish to earn their place as one of the Chosen of Ifrit, to bear his very essence into battle.
Later that day, Adventurers snuck into Ifrit’s arena, killed him dead, and knicked all the weapons.
“Sweet! They’re all glowy!” The adventurers said.
Hearing of the bounty that Ifrit had bestowed on the Amalja’a, Garuda was not to be outdone. She called her followers before her, so they might witness what she was about to create.
She plucked several of her own feathers, razor plumes and satin plumes, and set them onto the wind, using it to shape and change them. From her own self, she created blades and staves, superior in every way to the clumsy working of the Fire Lord. Each blade was light, elegant, yet razor sharp. The knuckle weapons and bows made their wielders light as the wind, and able to strike like the tornado. The blessing of the gale suffused all, quickening magicks, both of healing and destruction. The wind could be soft and sharp at the same time, and so too were her works.
“Here, my followers. My children of the wind. I gift to you weapons like no other… far superior to the twisted bone and claw travesties Ifrit has foisted upon his followers. These are my prizes to you, which I will bestow on those who serve me the best. Those who spill the most blood in my day, those who claim the greatest prizes for me. Let it be known that those who serve the Gale shall be gifted her bounty! Go forth now, and earn your gifts, for only a few among you may be my chosen champions!”
“My Lady, your generosity knows no bounds. But… Ifrit’s gifts were stolen by adventurers. Perhaps we should distribute your bounty now, so that we might use them to further your glory…?” He paused to gather his thoughts. And intestines, as several razor plumes had ripped his guts open. Evidently fatigued by the effort, he lay down face first in the soft earth.
“I detest greedy birds.” Garuda growled. “Do not think that I can so easily be robbed by some band of ruffians as Ifrit was! Am I not the greatest of the Primals? Did I not call Titan and Ifrit before me and lay them both low?”
“Actually, you kinda got your head bitten off by Ultima Weapon before you could…” Another Ixal said. And immediately got tired and lay down for a nap as well.
“Look, go get me pretty shinies and I’ll give you toys!” Garuda huffed. “It’ll take them at least a few months to figure out my mechanics anyway!”
Adventurers then defeated her and robbed her later that day. “Sweet! Look at the stats on this sword!”
“Can… can we fight her again? I like the way her bottom jiggles when she laughs…”
“You’re weird, Steve…”
Finally, in the depths of the U'Ghamaro mines, the Kobolds brought worrying news to the Lord of Crags.
“Lord Titan, greatest of all the Primals, we have gifted thee with our bounty of crystals, and our fervent worship…” The Kobold Priest began, bowing his head in devoted worship.
“URRRPP.” Titan replied majestically.
“Err… yes… but there is a danger. The smoothskins once again move against us. Already Ifrit and Garuda have fallen to the predations of adventurers!”
“I LIKE THE WAY GARUDA’S BOTTOM JIGGLES WHEN SHE LAUGHS.” Titan replied, with the thoughtfulness and wisdom of stone.
“I… what?” The Priest paused, then shook his head. “Nevermind. We must prepare, my Lord. Soon enough they will come here to face you, bearing weapons infused with the might of your fellow Primals!”
“INFUSED WEAPONS? HEY… I CAN DO THAT, BRO…” Titan said, standing tall, then moving to a corner of his dias.
“That… is very generous, my Lord, but I fear that might only serve to encourage…”
“HANG ON… HNNNGH!” Titan squatted, and from his might posterior, a glowing crag of rock emerged. “RRRGH… NOT ENOUGH FIBRE IN THOSE CRYSTALS…”
A Kobold Bedesman leaned over and whispered in the Priest’s ear. “Is he…?”
“Gifting us with his bounty!” The priest said quickly.
“UNNGH!” Titan roared, and a cracked stalactite fell to the ground. “THERE.”
A curious Kobold hopped close, examining it. “What… is it my Lord?”
“IT’S A SPEAR.” Titan replied.
“A… spear?” The Kobold cocked his head in confusion. It looked like a chunk of rock. Glowing, yes, but nothing particularly special otherwise. I mean, they were KOBOLDS. They mined up glowy rocks all the time! “I guess… if you stabbed with the tapered end…”
“NO, NO, THAT’S THE END YOU HOLD IT BY.” Titan corrected him patiently.
“But…” The Kobold scratched his head. “The end is just blunt rock. Wouldn’t it just be a really long club then?
“NEXT WEAPON IS COMING.” Titan replied, squatting once again as the Kobold scrambled out of the way. “THIS ONE IS GOING TO BE A BIG ONE!”
“Ugh… must we use these? They don’t seem to be practical at all.” The Bedesman said, sighing softly.
“They… are the gifts of our Lord… it would be rude to…” The Priest started.
“IT THINK THIS ONE IS COMING OUT SIDEWAYS!” Titan said, in some distress as he strained.
The Priest rubbed his temples, feeling another migraine coming on. “Just… leave them here. The adventurers will haul them away.”
“They will?”
“Anything not nailed down, of course.”
“AAAUGH...! CLENCHED A BIT ON THAT ONE. ERR… IT’S A SHIELD. YEAH.”