Memoirs of Adventure Creative Writing Contest (NA) - Discussion/Practice Thread
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Bow down overdweller (Test)
Gladius' axe dug into the trembling earth as he was forced back, his teeth grit from the force of the blow as he was knocked backwards towards the edge of the ever-shrinking arena. Despite strength of arm and combat prowess, he felt himself flying back towards the edge unto an dizzying fall. Before he lost his balance, a pull of aetheric energy coiled out to him. He seized onto it desperately, trying to regain himself as Arioche's light pulled him back from the brink.
"I've got you!" she yelled, rescuing him from certain death. Her gown fluttered wildly with each stomp of the gigantic monster that stood before them.
Gladius shook the bells from his head, swinging his axe over his head before nodding to her and charging back towards the monstrous primal Titan, glowering down at him.
"The kobold's certainly didn't hold back this time..." He thought. They had triumphed easily twice before over the makeshift primal god of the ratlike species, but this time their desperation truly showed in the strength of this manifestation.
He raced past his friend Tatl, who looked to him worryingly as she continued to cast spell after spell with her reflection of the primal Garuda following form at her side. Despite their best efforts, the thrice-damned "god" would not fall. Gladius leapt forward, bringing his axe down across the chest of the stone monster.
There! A crack!
It seemed that his allies' efforts had not been in vain. They had managed to weaken the monster enough to bring forth it's stone heart. Gladius' axe ripped into the chest of the beast, wresting the heart free where all three heroes of light managed to concentrate their efforts into a single blast, shattering the beast's heart. The creature tottered, as aetheric energy bled from it, then finally fell.
A cheer rang out among the adventurers... finally... they had bested their toughest opponent yet.
(Thank you for reading my story, if I do qualify, my chocobo Alfred Von Chicklesby would love the Noble Barding. Special thanks to my fellow Warriors of Light Arioche Aristotle and Tatl Tael for bringing me into this world I love so much. Even if we're apart now, I'll always treasure our time then.)
https://img2.finalfantasyxiv.com/acc...65cd4381fa.jpg
Return of Holyfist (image test)
The sun had just begun to set as I arrived at the Forgotten Springs. The legendary Hamon Holyfist was already waiting for me there. He had approached me earlier in the day to have one final match before his battle with Weggfarr Wideaxe. We stretched, warmed up, and just as the sun began to touch the horizon we began.
https://img2.finalfantasyxiv.com/acc...44bc98ab33.jpg
He started slow, attacking only when he saw an opening. It was difficult to block or dodge because of the accuracy of the strikes. It was like this for a few moments, but then our bodies began to limber up. The heat of battle let us strike faster and harder with each blow. Our minds became sharper trying to get the upper hand on one another.
Suddenly I was hit with ten blows within a second. Surprised, I stepped back. I could see only focus in his eyes as he shot forward for the next attack. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. His fists were almost a blur as the flurry began and it kept getting faster. Strike after strike I struggled to defend myself through the onslaught. There must have been a hundred blows before I finally saw the moment to strike and with one clean punch to the jaw, I finally stopped the barrage. He called the match there as we were both clearly exhausted. If it had gone on even a moment longer I wouldn’t even be conscious.
It was astonishing to experience. In that fight, in that moment, he had returned to his former glory. I couldn’t believe how overwhelmingly powerful he was despite his age and where he had started. It was as if he was a completely different person, but that just goes to show you Hyur tenacity. We can make the impossible possible just by believing in ourselves and staying strong through the tough times. I’ll never forget that moment nor the lesson I learned that day.
https://img2.finalfantasyxiv.com/acc...3899318fa7.jpg
Message in a Bottle - You Can’t Spell Dragonbreath Falls without D-A-R-N T-O-A-D-S
Countless memories I have of my life in Eorzea I would put pen to paper on; nearly three summers’ worth, in fact. However, I feel moved to recount my tale of a foray into Dzemael Darkhold and how I inadvertently caused what should have been an otherwise mundane run to go horribly wrong by my own hand. A curious memory to choose above all else to be sure, but for one reason or another few stories bring a retrospective smile to my face like this one.
I was a fledgling adventurer then. We had entered Dragonbreath Falls in the Darkhold, the place you cannot spell without D-A-N-G-E-R on its sheer cliffs. I had known that the Bone Nixes – almost as if they had been strategically placed there on the cliffside – had a tendency to knock adventurers off with their Labored Leaps. I had no intention of being such an adventurer, until I discovered too late that my toe was caught in the line of attack. To make the situation even more damningly awkward, my back was not facing the wall.
I tumbled down the cliff and hit the bottom faster than I could shout out any sort of profanity. Above me, my party did not seem to notice my fall and were moving on ahead. As one of the two damage dealers in the group, I was absolutely unexpendable. I had to get back to them quickly.
I was only vaguely aware of the beasts along my path, and in my haste I neglected to remember that dungeon monsters worked differently from those in the overworld in that your very existence is so offensive to them that once they’ve begun to chase you, you could run to the ends of Hydaelyn and they will not relent until one of you is dead.
As I ducked into the cavern with my team members at long last in sight, I finally looked over my shoulder and realized that every last beast – along with their mothers – had followed me up. I turned back and attacked the other monsters my party was already fighting with a peculiar calm, as though ignoring the grisly fate quickly approaching us would make it all go away.
It did not.
I recall the last haunting words of our healer, wrought with so much terror that any and all punctuation was bereft in their tone…
”what the”
”where did all the enemies come from”
We were slaughtered as sheep before the wolf… Blessed with the Echo as we were however, death was but a fly to be brushed from our shoulders. The story is not without its happy ending of course, we cleared Dzemael of its ghastly denizens without further tragedy. My embarrassment over the incident long since passed, I look back on it and laugh knowing how far I’ve come since then. Though I likely will never see those people again, I can’t help but wonder if they remember and look back on it with a similar fondness?
(If my tale is worthy of a commendation, I would like the Ahriman Choker, which in its resemblance to the All-seeing eye makes a fitting commemoration of my (mis)adventure through the Darkhold.)
Reflections of a Retired Raid Leader