Memoirs of Adventure Creative Writing Contest (NA) - Discussion/Practice Thread

[Emizel]

The "Warrior of Light", so they called me. It was a title rather exhausted, a title I had worn for far too long in expectance of ease and comfort, as I had experienced with that of my previous enemies. However, at this moment, such a title was meaningless. I fought not in the name of Eorzea, nor the Scions, mayhap not even myself, but in my desperate pursuit for veracity. For once in my journey, I had realized the meaninglessness of my own being. This was not a conflict that concerned myself nor my idiosyncratic blessings, for such blessings were powerless in their faith before the might of the pitch-black dragon standing before.

For the first time in my journey, I felt wanted rather than needed, and felt shared comradery in place of feeling as though I were always being ordered around. Even with the blessings of Hydaelyn once restored to me, the Final Steps of Faith called not for the hopes of the crystal mother, but the aspirations of generations of a thousand years. I stared on ahead, yet what stood before me was not just an encompassment of ever-lasting hatred and vengeance, but also a figure filled with a pain that could not be let go of, an understanding too harsh to come to terms with, along with the changed and twisted ideals of the one who I've been able to come to call an ally through my journeys across what felt like heaven.

The hole of emptiness one is left with following traitorous deception, I knew too well. Never could I understand the skewed desires of my kind to bury the truth in more misery. Never could I understand the black dragon's unwavering longing to kill, for his brother had given onto our regrettable kind his vulnerability once more, and to me, the utmost of his strength. For the maiden of ice who's heart was the warmest of all, the dragoon who had learned to empathize with his worst enemy, and the white dragon who had undergone the worst pain; to let go, fear was absent from mine body and soul. The thousand-year Dragonsong war would end with me.

Yet, I could not take credit for that victory alone. "Warrior of Light" they called me, yet I stood as a black mage, ready to rain the lasts of bitter destruction that this war would ever need. Who stood beside me was my fond and most trusted ally, a Dark Knight who's ambitions were identical to mine. As a mage of black and a knight of darkness, our titles as Hydealyn's children were hollow. Light had already shed upon the truths of what lead us to this path. All-consuming dusk and destruction that held the misery and agony of countless generations of both humans and dragons was the only reciprocation that could be deemed deserved retribution. With two personifications of darkness standing side by side like a burning eclipse, Nidhogg would not live to see another millennium.
If I win, I would like the bluebird earrings.

[Sigodek]

test subject

[Sebbie]

Edit: Giving this a shot and submitting.

[Aleyden]

Dying in terror from my own reservations.

[OsakaBomb]

To Luna,

It's difficult for me to imagine that it's only been a year since our paths first crossed. Somehow it feels like it's been much longer. The Rising had come once again to Eorzea, celebrating the anniversary of this world and all of its wonders, as the fireworks lit up the sky.

You were new to this world yourself. A brand new player, setting foot into Eorzea for the first time, a whole world of experiences to be had still laid out far before you. I don't encounter new players as often as I would've imagined, but I do enjoy the chance to speak with them. I love seeing if they need any help, or simply see how they're enjoying the game so far.

It felt refreshing to go back to the basics alongside someone new. As we grow and get stronger, I think we often forget how it felt to struggle in those first few adventures as we established our footing in the world. We forget, too, how it feels to see Eorzea with fresh eyes. We're used to the coastlines of La Noscea, the forests of the Black Shroud, and the deserts of Thanalan.

Very quickly, I felt we were becoming friends. Someone I'd love to share adventures in this world with. Which is why when you had told me you were changing servers, I felt my heart sink. I understood, of course. You had other friends you wished to adventure with, and it wasn't my place to stop you. So we went our separate ways, encouraging each other to become stronger.

A year has passed now, and like ourselves, Eorzea has gone through changes. Being able to visit other worlds now, we're able to spend time together again, sharing our adventures. As we sat beneath the fireworks once again, I can't help but see how much stronger you've become. Such is the life of adventurers. You meet friends, people to share your path with, but soon the paths diverge and you travel alone, only to one day meet again when your paths meet once more. I hope our paths stay together for years to come.

Your friend,
A'tehri.

(Okay. I feel pretty good about this. I'm hoping it doesn't feel too long. I felt like it need some preface since...really the memorable moment was a more emotional one for me.)

[ToberBlue]

I'm just practicing...

I was logging when the call came. I can’t say logging was my favorite pastime, but I was determined to get good enough at woodworking to make some gil selling furniture. That was a long way off, so I was gathering rosewood logs in from the large trees near the Hawthorne Hut to help raise my skill level. I tried to enjoy the work, the feeling of physical labor, the smell of the forest, the sound the axe made against the tree, but only the presence of my friend from my Free Company made the work bearable.

[GamerGirlNES]

Edit: Everything seems to be working so I'm submitting!

[brett450]

I debated for some time the memory I would choose to write about. Ultimately, I was drawn to a moment very personal and dear to me.

Sharla tightened her grip on her bow, never wavering as she loosed arrow after arrow at the great beast, her comrades fighting equally as valiantly as they took cover from the dragon dive-bombing their position, the dragon Twintania.

My best friend and girlfriend, we had known each other for sixteen years, had been dating for eight, played this game together often. When she left me I was devastated. I knew in her mind she was trying to make things easier for me. There were circumstances surrounding her decision and I knew it wasn’t out of malice or anger, but it hurt all the same.

It’s infernal dive-bombing ceased, Sharla had only a moment's reprieve before the dragon summoned three massive pillars of wind, instantly knocking three of her comrades down, their bodies lying motionless on the scorched rock. Gritting her teeth and attempting to escape the vicious creatures that had joined the battle, Sharla let out a shout that became a song, allowing her aether to flow from her voice to her ailing comrades, bolstering their strength and steeling their resolve.

We didn’t speak after that. A relationship of sixteen years, over half my life, had suddenly ended. I felt lost, angry, sad, bitter, empty, a cavalcade of emotions I had no idea how to deal with. In truth, I thought about leaving this game, this game that she introduced me too, that we had shared together. It was a mutual friend that convinced me to stay, and I’m glad I did.

The twisters gone and its Dreadknights dealt with, Twintania’s aether began to seep into the ground beneath their feet, forming pools of molten rock. Sharla ran as fast as she could, the pools of hell opening up beneath her always just a half step behind. Still, she forced herself to keep singing, to keep her aim locked on the great dragon and her arrow’s true. She could see its strength was fading, its wings beat with less vigor than before. Still, with three members down and the others nearing defeat themselves, she knew it would take something more than song and arrow to turn the tide.

Two years later that same mutual friend asked me to join in running roulettes one day. We had run hundreds before but this time they were playing together and invited me to join them. For the first time in two years, I heard her voice. I heard her laugh. For the first time in two years, I remembered how important that friendship was to me. Though our relationship had changed, I realized then that it didn’t necessarily need to end.

“Y’akasha now!” Sharla cried. The Miqo’te’s ears twitched in response as she slammed her staff into the ground. The resulting burst of aether that enveloped the group truly did feel like its name implied, the Pulse of Life. Standing together once again, Sharla smiled and tightened her grip on her bow.

(Noble Barding)

[Turqblue]

My all-time favorite memory of my life here, on a world called Famfrit, in the Land of Eorzea, is the day I first bought a house of my very own. I had sought long to find a place to belong, with friends close enough to be family - but, especially, a place I could really call "home." For I remembered none.
My name is Belinda. I took the surname Forrest, for I seem to remember a beautiful place, with great, red-barked trees with feathery, evergreen foliage that I loved. But I seem to have lost that place, along with the memories of my life before I came to Gridania almost two years ago. I wanted to find a place where I could support myself, and knew I had the skills, maybe even the magic needed to be a good healer. I was seeking - something, but I knew not what. An elderly gentleman on the coach bringing me here kindly told me about the new city I was entering. He is, and remains, my earliest memory now - all else is a haze, that, and visions of a great crystal of loving light.
I did well in Gridania, learning the skills of a conjurer, a healer with defense training, and was promoted to White Mage in less than a year. I learned how to fight in partnership to defeat enemies, those who would hurt the innocent. Even better, I found a wonderful home with a small Free Company, who welcomed me & helped me learn many other things I needed to not only survive, but to thrive in this world, & I found myself fighting to defend this way of life. I visited and fought for the three great city-states, then others, but they were always new to me - a place I had never seen before, had no memory of. Yes, I had found a noble cause to defend in Eorzea - freedom of its peoples, and respect for the cultural diversity of this world. But it was always their homes I was defending. Where was mine?
So, in my journeys here, the best memory I have yet had was when, with the help of a generous gift of gil from my FC's leader, I was able to buy my very own cottage in the Lavender Beds. At last I felt I really had a home - a house of my own! Now I not only had friends to stand with, fight beside, and to defend, I, too, had a home among my friends. As I planted my very own garden for the first time, I watched the sun set over the lake, surrounded by great trees of ancient lineage, and knew I was home at last.
I was full of joy as my house slowly filled with items of comfort and peace. I love this place, Eorzea, and have become a useful part of my FC, although I still have many things to learn, as I grow both my crafting/gathering skills, and expand my fighting & defense skills. But it is always good to come home at night, back to a place of peace and beauty, humble though it is - a real home. There are two great gifts to give a child, and as a new citizen in Eorzea, I have been given both by my new friends - roots and wings. I feel both as I enter my door.

[NeriaAshdale]

The blizzard accompanying my return to Ishgard was no more welcoming than the one which cast me out. It’d been a year since I’d fled, abandoning everything I knew in search of a fresh adventure in Gridania. So far had I departed from the prim dinner parties, the services in Saint Reymanaund’s Cathedral, the slight cling of high Ishgardian collars against my throat that I no longer felt as though I was returning somewhere familiar. I was different, now. Cast out yet again, but stronger for it.

Ishgardian spires rose into a hazy gray sky, prickly as its denizens. I shuddered with cold as I passed through the gates. Haurchefant bade me welcome here under the care of his father, Count Edmont De Fortempts, and my Elezen appearance no doubt allowed me to seamlessly blend in. But that I was known here did not escape me. Some would have questions. And if asked, I would answer.

The Dragonsong War had cost Foundation so much. Dilapidated buildings at the city’s entrance crumbled. Smoke rose from the Brume in thick dark plumes. The separation of excessive wealth and dire poverty echoed stronger than ever in the eyes of the orphans who glared with our passing, dirty with soot and exhaustion.

Once welcomed by the Count my companions seated themselves to take tea by the fire and warm their bodies after the long journey from Camp Dragonhead. A lifetime in the cold afforded me less recovery time. Following yet another round of thanks I departed to investigate the city once more, Haurchefant’s inquiring eyes following me though he said nothing.

I headed up the long set of stairs leading up to the cathedral as I’d done so many times in the past, the bell tower and stained glass windows becoming more apparent the closer I drew. A beacon in the frigid snows, a symbol of Halone’s power and authority. As if anticipating my arrival, the bell struck, ringing out through the streets. Once, twice, eight times before silence descended once more.

Despite everything, for but a moment, I was a child again. Garbed in a holy rainbow dress, clutching my mother’s hand as my father laughed with Count Durendaire and reflected on the day’s sermon. Eager to play, to descend into the snow, to fire a bow or wield a lance like the enormous statues towering over the city below.

I breathed in the frozen air and let the snow melt against my cheeks.

Home. I was home.

[Bluebird Earrings please! Thanks for reading!]