Memoirs of Adventure Creative Writing Contest (NA) - Official Entry Thread

[DaoRin]

What to Do With a Drunken Adventurer

From worlds apart, four strangers met, one healer being particularly dizzy. She digs the tip of her shoe into the desert sand before they begin and she purses her lips, apologetically she admits, “I am a bit drunk, so if this goes poorly, I apologize.”

There’s a pause and then the heaviest set man roars, “Ha! So I am I, we’ll do fine. As they say, a drop of schnapps is good for the nerves!”

The other combat mage rubs his hands over his face, “Divines have mercy…”

After fighting their way through a particularly rough first boss they pause to catch a breath and the tank rubs his stomach, “I could go for a good burger right now…”

Dao thinks back to the burger wars of another time and a mischievous grin spreads across her face, “The West Coast burger is better than any other style of burger. You cant change my mind.”

With that, the flame was lit and outrage spread across the party. Heated banter simmered into a intellectual-esque conversation over the culinary arts.

As if connoisseurs themselves, a consensus was met on one ground; that the best breakfast burger was with a runny fried egg yolk.

The big tanks' lip drools as he explains, “You see, when you bite into the burger, the yolk pops and it’s almost like its own condiment.”

Dao nods, “Why would someone ruin a breakfast burger by cooking the yolk? Truly shameful.” The others shake their heads in shared disdain for such a crime against food. With thier breathes caught and flasks still in hand, the party makes a toast to tasteful dining and a chaotic final boss.

As all parties must end, the final boss is defeated and the party sits before the portal leading back to their respective worlds. They declare each others friendship and make a promise that one day they would meet again. Dao herself would never forget that unusually rowdy and equally as memorable group. Whenever Eorzea feels empty, she smiles and takes a drink, a silent toast to the best unknown adventurers and the ones she may meet in the future.


[ If selected, I would like the Mandragora Choker. Thank you! ]

[acta]

It is all too easy to doubt the righteousness of one’s actions when faced with an excess of suffering. Some moments leave no doubt at all – moments like witnessing the First’s final return to night come to mind. Yet still there are those times which grind one’s resolve down to dust, when the only way forward is to somehow find one’s way off the ground again, and when loneliness is the most precious and despicable friend one could ever know.

You are no stranger to pain. Life itself is a beatdown; surely, you ask, why go on? Everyone asks it eventually. It’s the next step you take that means the most. That’s bravery. Not what any of those once-upon-a-Temple-Knights thought courage was.

And you, oh, you. You are always taking that next step. To live is to fight, not the other way around, and aren’t you a glowing specimen of that very simple idea? I haven’t told you in far too long – since I played mentor, is that right? – but I am so proud of you. Blood and death and misery aside, you press forward. You know better than anybody that it never stops being difficult. It's entangled within all the rest.

Even now that the First has felt the cooling balm of darkness and your celebrations have finally come to a slow end, you sigh! Take a load off, why don’t you? Sidurgu and Rielle have discovered the beauty of relaxation, perhaps you should go visit with them to take note.

Yet, as ever, the world calls for you, and you answer. I can’t say the same for myself. Don’t forget what we’ve talked about. I’ve picked up too many of your messes to pick you up off the floor. Ah, but I’m well aware…you’re stubborn, but you're as stubborn as you are delightfully resilient. It’s why I’ve taken to you.

Well – that, among many other reasons.

Come now, chin up. Don’t tell me you’re tired. We’ve only just begun.

(Scarf of Wondrous Wit, please. <3)

[Chaude]

Bottle Up The Upside-Down Smile
(Item of choice if selected: Scarf of Wondrous Wit)



“Heh, I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t let the others see me like this. Not when they’re doing all of this for me. How fortunate I am to have friends holding the line in these dire times for me with a smile on their curled lips.”

“If you come across this bottled letter, I’d really appreciate it if you toss it somewhere and burn it. Writing this is embarrassing in trying to calm my nerves…”

“Ahem. Let’s see...over the years, I have been known by many titles. ‘Bringer of Light’ and ‘Corpse Dancer’ are two that come to mind for me. But...when Yozan and Koharu asked me why I wanted to be an adventurer, back then I wanted to fight in Ul’dah’s Coliseum.”

“That’s how I first started off as a Gladiator and later a Free Paladin, among other occupational jobs.”

“Fights like with Handeloup de Daimbaux and Black Lotus were intense and thrilling. Swing, strike, and block on the offensive. Parry awe-inspiring techniques and dodge hair-raising magic on the defensive. All the while a cheering crowd inspiring you to give it your all while keeping yourself from spilling blood with steel in your hand and magic at your beck and call.”

“I will never forget my rivals’ smiles full of determination and hope.”

“So, I told the two doman children, on one of my many escort quests I tend to do for others, that I sought power and hunted for new experiences and adventures. I’m not used to children, so I smiled more than I had talked, and was glad at the time that they didn’t press further with the deeper whys.”

“Yet, if I had to be honest with myself, I said all that to learn new techniques and magics as I continue to question my purpose in life.”

“Thinking back on what I could’ve said to the children, fame and glory are nice things, but I’d rather see people smiling.”

“And in a way, I did for a time. Guildmates and friends from many walks of life. Yet, some of my friends are in trouble and I’m not sure how to help them.”

“One by one, these friends of mine collapsed and won’t wake up. I have to pin my hopes in finding a relic that might lead me into saving them.”

“For all the power I’ve garnered and borrowed, seeing others worried or crying instead of smiling has always bothered me.”

“So I fought, and I fought, and I fought...”

“For all that I have accomplished, the war with the Garlean Empire still keeps me away from what I’d rather want to see and do.”

“If only wars were fought in an arena. Ahhh, now I’m wishing for the impossible.”

“And so I continue to fight, risking everything to keep those smiles on friend and rival alike.”

“I suppose I also did guarantee Yozan he’d be a fine adventurer someday as well…That’s just one more reason to the overflowing bucket full of hopes and dreams I need to deliver.”

“Hang in there, everyone. I’m coming.”

[Loganight]

Not too long before writing this my future looked bleak and hopeless. I have faced foes and traveled to places that I could never have imagined possible, seen horrors that have made me question my very existence. My world had been drained of color and shadows quickly began to close in around me. Amidst that lifeless wasteland I wondered if there was any point in continuing to fight. I returned from that world beyond our own back to a lonely home that I had built for myself. No one and nothing was waiting for me there but a creaky old cot who could no longer support the weight of all I carried with me. I removed my battered armor and laid my weary body down for what I prayed might be the last time. Come morning, however, something within me stirred. It willed me to leave that dreadful place and carry on about my day. With some strange fleeting hope within my chest I barged outside, through The Goblet’s vigilant gates, and into the searing heat of the Ul’dahn market streets.

I passed by all kinds of people, each working hard to protect their own way of life. I thought back to what that man had said to me in that illusory city and wondered if maybe he was right. I thought long and hard about all of it until I realized I had come face to face with the airship landing. I locked eyes with a man in a garish outfit as he beckoned for me to come closer. He spun for me a gilded tale of a place filled with vibrant lights and colors where dreams come true. Without much else to do, I took the man’s advice and boarded an airship for The Golden Saucer.

Everywhere I looked I saw joyous crowds cheering and laughing set on top of a glowing golden backdrop. I thought that maybe if I came to the place the man had described, the brilliant golden light there would cast away the shadows looming over me. But on that day it was not the shine of a merchant’s forfeit coin nor the glow of the sweltering lamps hanging high above that shined a light on my life once more. Through all the noise and commotion it was you. You, the one who saw me and only me amongst the crowd. Out of everyone there that day, you only chose me. You reached out and took me by the hand, like you could tell just by looking at me that I was drowning. You led me out of that place where we met and I’ve never looked back since.

You came home with me and breathed new life into the house that became ours together. Every day you have inspired me to be better, to do more. Hand-in-hand we built a new life together and continue to be one another’s light at the end of the tunnel. No matter what adventures we go on or challenges we face along the way we can find the strength to take them on knowing we do so together. With any luck you’ll end up back on this beach where we spent the Summer together some day. If you do I pray you’ll find this message along the shore waiting just for you.

-Your Paladin

(Gaelicap)

[ThugosaurusRex]

A Trespass

We were sitting on the roof of our FC house when you crafted my dress. The roof was where we spent most of our time. For all the thousands of gil and hours we spent decorating the interior, we hardly ever went inside. Inside was boring. The roof felt like adventure—like somewhere we weren't supposed to be. From our vantage point sitting on the home's eaves we had a clear view out to the shore. To an island in the distance. A ship sailing through the waves. “Just take it,” you said.

The trade window sat open on my monitor. I hadn't put anything up, but you'd already accepted the trade. You crafted the dress with materials we won off of a treasure map—I didn't need to check the market board to know it was worth nearly more gil than I'd ever had. Glamor gear wasn't even my thing. “You should sell that.”

“Nah.” You didn't cancel the trade. “You take it. We'll clear Turn Four in style.”

I didn't argue. You didn't care about the gil. Never did. The trade went through and the dress was in my inventory. “Thanks.”

“It's nothing.” We sat for a few moments before you said, “Try for that clear tomorrow?”

“I might be off for a few days. Got to start studying for the Bar.”

“I thought that wasn't for a few months.”

“It's not. Prep course starts tomorrow.”

You said something that wouldn't make it past a profanity filter. Then you said, “We'll clear it next time you're on.”

The ship we were watching traveled along its programmed course. I always wondered what happened to it when it reached the end of its line. Did it still exist when it was off screen? “For sure,” I said. Then I logged out.

---

When I log back on our home is gone. A house stands on the plot, but somebody else lives there. Our Free Company has disbanded. All of my contacts are gone.

Eorza is larger than it was when I last logged off. Ishgard opened its gates. Adventurers travel to the Far East. I can meet new races and fight new Primals. Learn new jobs. Even fly, if I want. I can experience it all. I can do it now.

Instead I walk across a stranger's lawn. Our fountain is missing, and so is our sign post, but with a pinch of patience and a heaping of creative acrobatics I make it up to the roof. It's the same as it always was. Clear line of sight to the beach. An island in the distance. A ship disappearing over the horizon—trapped on the same route it traveled five years ago.

Your dress still sits in my inventory.

And I wonder for a moment if I could send you a message. Would you read it if I could? If I put a letter in a bottle and threw it to the tides, I wonder if maybe you'd see it glisten in the waves from your spot on a rooftop overlooking whatever new shore you've found. I wonder what I'd say.

Honest truth is I don't know.

I put on the dress and walk to the eave of the stranger's roof.

/sit

(Scarf of Wondrous Wit)

[Meillquei]

On a day not unlike any other, the dimness crept. And it crept, slowly, silently, eclipsing the bright lights of hope encircling my very being. Warmth, love, friendship, color, life. Concepts I’ve heard before, yet always seemed to escape me, just beyond reach.

On a day not unlike any other, I sat, staring, wondering, wishing for something. A desire to see more. A new hope. A cure for the constant restlessness rattling my mind.

And so, wearing a new skin, I embarked for Eorzea, the only chance I had left for seeing the light again.

On a day unlike the others, color entered my life again, both literally and figuratively. A group of strangers under the band of <color> embraced me with open arms and allowed me to see again. Resting beneath the shaded sanctuary of Shirogane, the darkness gave way to the dawn, beginning a new day at last.

To the one who reads this message: There is always a dawn within the dusk. Keep walking forth, young one, and find that which you gives you life.

(Thanks for reading! If selected, I would like the Noble Barding.)

[Gihwezi]

They are an odd pair: a fun-loving Hyur from the recently-liberated lands of Doma, and a Viera who looks more model than warrior, far too beautiful to be a fighter. Wearing matching glamour, the two stare down the static-killing menace known as the Voidwalker with six other Warriors of Light from their Free Company, the Fangs of Bahamut. Not only does the Viera loom over the Hyur like an Amaurotine building, but her hair—moon-white and wild—swallows half of her adventuring companion. Choei, after using some of the Viera's hair as a fake mustache, steps to the left and draws his spear, smiling ear-to-ear as their main tank starts the countdown to begin.

Giacinta's hand twitches over the trigger of her Deepshadow Pistol. She just wants to put a bullet inside of it. Or two. Or twenty-million. She has a bit of a hare-trigger. And after dedicating one-hundred years of her life to the Golmore Jungle as a hunter, there is no kill like overkill, especially when it concerns savage bosses.

"You know Gia?" Choei says, his eyes alight with happiness. "If I were to die right now in some sort of fiery explosion due to the carelessness of a friend? Well? That'd just be okay."

The Viera, suddenly forgetting she has an opener, slowly brings her pointed, pink gaze towards the Hyur. "Giacinta," she says, correcting him for what feels like the millionth time since they've known each other. "We have laid the Voidwalker low once before, Choei. We will do it again." ...But his words bother her. Is he implying she'd get him killed? It's not like she hasn't seen him Elusive Jump off the arena before for absolutely no reason, and by Hydaelyn's grace does he rise again, wipe after wipe after floor-tank wipe (and may the Twelve bless their Astrologian and Scholar, for that matter).

Reassemble, Tincture, Drill—she is quick on her feet, dodging the Voidwalker's Guillotine. She does what their raid leader, a Miqo'te Red Mage, tells her to do without fail.. until the Voidwalker casts its last Doomvoid Cleaver and is slightly off-center. By the time Giacinta realizes it's too late; both she and Choei take a massive amount of damage, killing them both instantly.

With the two of them dead, there's no way the group will do enough damage for enrage--they jump off the edge. When they respawn, Giacinta pouts. It's so unlike her to display any emotion other than seriousness and vague annoyance that Choei laughs and reaches up to massage the base of one of her ears. Her out-of-character behavior continues: she forgets her frustrations, and gives a tooth purr just like a rabbit would.

"Relax Gia. We still have two hours to get our weekly clear. We'll get 'em, third time lucky!"

One of Giacinta's eyes twitches and she's back to her no-nonsense self. "Choei, this is our second pull." Oh Nymeia, what did I ever see in this air-headed Hyur?



(Choice: Bluebird Earring!)

[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)

[hiccupz]

I am the final witness.

Surrounded by a band of adventurers I was happy to call my friends, we all bore witness that day to the defeat of Bahamut; a feat made possible only because of our dedication to training and strategy. Back then I was still a novice, a fledgling Black Mage, who barely knew a thaumaturge's staff from a conjurer's rod. But my friends patiently taught me all I needed to know to take down the dreadwyrm, took me countless times into the Crystal Tower to search for better equipment, and forgave my foolish missteps along the way.

Spirits high from our achievement, we journeyed to Ishgard and beyond. But the snows of Coerthas cooled our once fiery hearts, and one by one, our little group of adventurers went their separate ways. Some gave up the adventuring life to start a family and settle down, while others simply vanished one day without a trace. For a while, I, too, hung up my staff and retired from adventuring, but not a day passed that I didn't long to return to a life of slaying primals and exploring dungeons.

My eventual return came with a change a in focus: trading my Fire spells for the blazing Katon jutsu. I relentlessly honed my skills as a Ninja while taking on mercenary work in Othard. I even briefly joined another band of adventurers to fight Omega, but their companionship could not compare to the company of the friends I once had by my side.

Now, as I travel through the First, often against the backdrop of the Crystal Tower, I cannot help but think again of the days of Bahamut. Some days I curse myself for taking the company of my old friends for granted, while other days I can't help but smile at the fond memories we shared. As I again bear witness to the defeat of eikons we once took down together, I feel as if they are with me.

Taking up the sword, I feel the pain of the two men who took Bahamut's blows for us. When I wield healing magic, I see the faces of the Human and the Lallafel who often called out to me when it was my turn to act. As I hold my daggers, I feel the hands of four others, who once worked by my side to whittle down the wyrm's health, now guiding my strikes.

I am the final witness now, but I am the sum of everything we witnessed together. And I know they will always be in my heart to watch over me, and witness my triumphs in the future.

(noble barding)

[Jaywalker]

There is a jungle named Rak'tika. While adventuring there a friend hurled herself into the Lifestream to escape certain death.

One companion of mine is a man calling himself Emet-Selch. For the purpose of this tale suffice to say he is of doubtful morals and glib tongue.

In our time of need, it happened that Emet-Selch possessed the means to perform a rescue and offered this course. What role I played involved carrying a lantern through the area in search of a workspace. Brighter suggested promise while the reverse would prove less useful.

“Once you've found a likely spot, all you need do is whistle,” Emet-Selch informed me. There must have been something telling in my expression, because it was at this point he stopped. Met my eye. “You do know how to whistle, don't you, hero? Just put your lips together and blow.



How else could I respond? I told him of course, took the lantern, and sped toward the trees.

Whistling. Wonderful.

I searched for perhaps longer than necessary. Every turn I made brought the light dim, and every one following that extinguished it. I stumbled over tree roots and fought the native fauna until, mercifully, the thing shone.

Just put your lips together and blow.

Easy.

A child could manage.



…and yet, through my own childhood, it seems I neglected this crucial lesson.

No matter how I strove or how ridiculous my expressions became, I simply couldn’t do it.

So I tried alternatives.

“Emet-Selch,” I said, respectably enough at first. This graduated to shouting “EMET-SELCH” into the forest at the top of my lungs, then to declarations of “I DID IT, THIS IS THE PLACE” and “PLEASE COME BACK” and “TWEET TWEET LOOK THIS IS ME WHISTLING”.

That man has not a bone of compassion in him.

“GODS DAMN IT.”

I practiced on mounts, which drew as little interest from them as my target. I paced the space. I knew, in those moments, deepest despair.



“You’re a few steps short!”

I looked up.

Sure enough, in those impractically heavy robes Emet-Selch was perched in a tree watching my performance. He gestured ahead some paces with the flick of his wrist.

Perhaps there is an accomplishment in making him grin like that. What time I spent staring in response, slack-jawed, was probably something to behold.

I trudged to the place. Gestured helplessly.

He gave a demonstration, natural as breathing.

One last attempt. To call what emerged a whistle is generous, but Emet-Selch began making his descent regardless.

Smug.

Let it be known the Warrior of Light cannot whistle without aid.

[Scarf of Wondrous Wit]