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

[LyhteNoctis]

"Hear...feel...think..."

How long has it been since those very words drove me from my aimless wanderings to the great deserts of Ul'dah, the evergreen forests of Gridania, the swashbuckling streets of Limsa Lominsa, the snow cloaked peaks of Ishgard and beyond? At times it seems like only yesterday that I started this journey, even though so many years have passed.



They say that it is because of my strength that the realm has the salve it needs to heal, but if it were not for all those who stood beside me, I would never have persevered. Without the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I would never have known of the power of the Echo and conquered the Primals that plagued the realm. If it was not for the aid of the Grand Companies and Cid, I would have never been able to destroy the Ultima Weapon. However, if it were not for all those I lost, I would never have stood my ground against the Dragonsong War and Storm.



This journey has been a hard one.

And now another beckons me to where you rest. Even though so much time has passed since that day I still remember our adventures within the Crystal Tower.

I can still see the crystalized throne upon Syrcus Towers top. The expansive World of Darkness that seemed to have no end, just like its dark mistress the Cloud. I wonder if Doga and Uni are still in epic blows with that monstrosity or they are now free from their destiny. I pray for the latter.

I also remember you.

When first we met you seemed too eager to jump into danger when it presented itself. I cannot help but laugh at the memory of Cid and Rammbroes continuous attempts to keep you in check. The moment your once emerald left eye took up the same crimson glow as your right, you grew. No longer were you the overeager young man that I first met, but a man who would someday become a great hero in your own right.



Where are you, I wonder, within that massive structure? What did you say as the golden doors closed, finalizing our goodbye? Do you know why he calls me back to you?

I do not wish to cause undue concern to Tataru, for deep down, I know this is a journey I must walk alone to save those who have fallen into a deep slumber. If you are reading this, may it mean that I have succeeded and all I have done has not been in vain. For you are the only one who knows how this story ends.

Wait, could he be? No, never mind.

I promise, no matter what darkness may await me, this story will have a happy ending, by the Twelve and all who have fallen, I swear!

[LyhteNoctis]

noble barding, sorry forgot to add this and we cant edit doc right? man

[justicelife]

Knowledge is a funny thing. To learn is to live. Without learning, we are no better than beasts, acting upon only the blood that runs in our veins.

However, curiosity killed the coeurl. If you must dive deep into the unknown, know that you may never breach the surface ever again.

Such musings are what led my adventure here, to the island they called “The Forbidden Land”. It was not an easy task to find people such as me, so hungry for knowledge that they would journey to such a place. Scholars, adventurers, aetherologists and beast tamers; all seeking the same: knowledge of an unknown world. The knowledge of Eureka.

Ordinarily I would always get appointed mercenaries, adventurers guild associates or conscripted soldiers to escort me along my journeys, but this was different. We were united under one common goal. Despite all the hardships we endured and the arguments we went through, we always came out on the other side stronger, smarter and most importantly, together. We pressed onward, our destination looming on the horizon among the blistering snow.

Our adventures were led by none other than Krile Mayer Baldesion, a most enigmatic figure. Her small stature and pleasant demeanor clashed violently with her shadowy history. Through much ‘accidental’ eavesdropping, I came to find that this was the very same Isle where the Scholars of Baldesion originated. Even more profound was that the Isle had been completely shaped anew after there was a devastating turn of events, not unlike that of the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

Knowing of this, our efforts expanded tenfold. Instead of the usual cheery and joyous atmosphere that usually filled the tavern, there were many hushed murmurs while scholars pored over tomes and papers. We knew that each word we scribed and each step we took drew us further to that blighted castle.

Armor clanking, weapons at the ready, we lined up to be debriefed on our final mission. Trembling, I gripped the hilt of my rapier in an effort to get a hold of myself. Soon, we would uncover the final secrets of this place; of what happened to Galuf. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. There they were, my team of would-be adventurers who had gotten into the same mess I did. Confident they were, not worried in the slightest. Knowing this, I could only try to do the same. I nod my head to them, and they nod back. I feel reassured knowing that we are in this together, and set my sights forward to the Baldesion Arsenal, where nigh a Primal nor an Eikon exist, but the miscreations of ancient Allag whom I only thought as mere fairytales did await us.

If you do come across this parchment know this, adventurer. Our lives are questions without answers. It is not happenstance that we learn to exist, for what else is there that awaits us beside death. If you are to seek knowledge, you will find much more than some words scribbled in tomes.

Yours Truly,
A Eurekan Explorer

(reward: Scarf of Wondrous Wit)

[Keladri]

In my travels across the realms, I often stumble upon yellowing scraps of parchment and notes, old maps tucked away and forgotten. I add these odds and ends to our collection, hoarding them away until such a time can be found to study and explore their contents.

At last, once our work is done and our party can reunite once again, we pull these faded bits out and pass them around, comparing notes and making plans. Oh, for by day we each may be grand warriors of legend, but by night, we are mere treasure hunters, always ready for the next great discovery.

With these crumbling maps in hand, we seek out all the fortunes this land has to offer... at least for those brave enough to look. If these treasures are guarded by fierce beasts and demons galore, well, we pay them little mind. And while these chests may provide a wealth of materials and prizes, what we truly hope to find is something a bit more special.

For sometimes, tucked away within these stashes, there lies a portal. They are gateways to some long lost dungeon, perhaps a hidden palace or forgotten paradise. Whatever form they take, these little pocket places promise both danger and riches to all those lucky enough to wander their halls.

Luck being the operative word, for while our careful exploration and study have noted each dungeon is made up of several rooms… well, we rarely make it past all the blasted traps. There is an end, we’ve seen its gilded walls once or twice, but more often than not we fail soon after arrival. We have all come to know and fear the sound of slamming gates. No, going right every time doesn’t work, nor does always going left. Dancing seems to only lift our spirits, not the gates themselves, and the doors pay no mind to our desperate pleas.

And yet, though our coffers never fill quite as much as we hope, and our bags are lighter than we would like, we are always on the search for the next chest and another portal. For while gold is sweet, and ancient treasures sweeter, it is the jokes and laughter that make even the shortest adventures worth while.

/Praying for your good fortune,
An Unlucky Treasure Hunter



(Prize Selection: Noble Barding)

[Geralin]

I gazed into the eyes that, just moments earlier, had been glazed and blazing red with the rage of eons. Now they were, once again, gold and cool. The bitter anger, the biting cynicism, the vengeful disappointment – all these things were gone from them, drained like poison from a festering wound. In their place was a calm resignation, an acceptance of the hand which fate had dealt.

“Remember that we lived,” Emet-Selch, the Architect, said softly.

I nodded. It was the least I could do for the help he had given. Remember him. Remember his people. Remember the tragic burden he had borne on his own shoulders for years beyond numbering. I could do that.

After the fire and rage, the shadow and despair, the war and the blood, came peace and calm acceptance. As I regarded my most worthy adversary, watching the light of a new dawn wash over his face and through the hole where once his heart had been, I made a vow to him and to myself. I would remember him. I would remember his people. Their city. That they had hopes and dreams no less than the hopes and dreams of those whom I protected. And, one day, perhaps, when I made that last journey to the place where all souls are eventually called, I would stop in to share new memories with my old friend. Perhaps then he would tell me what it is he’d seen that twisted his features into horrified sorrow. And perhaps we would open a bottle of the bittersweet brew and reminisce, trading tales and truths, hopes and fears, laughter and sorrow, until such a time as it came for us to make our next trek through life.
“I will,” I promised the shade of a man who had once and always been as much a part of my life as my own shadow.

And then I left the city of dying memories to return to the land of the living with the Scions and the Crystal Exarch, my old friend G’raha Tia.

That night, as I watched the sun set on a world still new to night’s shadow, I found myself sitting alone at a table in the bar with one glass before me and one to the side, lost in my own memories and promises to one who I prayed had, at long last, found peace.

Prize: Chocobo Barding

[MindofMidnight]

Midnight Sage, Mid to her comrades, watched as the slumbering world began to stir. She sat on the shore of Longmirror Lake, her mind wandering, recalling memories of adventures past.
She often found herself reflecting on her adventures. She’d even considered writing a book- “Gridania and Back: A Hero’s Journey Across Realms.”
Mid could still remember the beginning, so unsure of herself, but the desire for adventuring burning like a sun inside of her. She learned how to fight, how to survive. But most importantly, she learned how to heal. Those lessons were the hardest, dealing with what it felt like when a comrade fell. But she learned, and overcame. She was no longer unsure- now she was sure-footed, could stand her own and support her fellow adventurers.
She’d seen nations divided, countries ransacked, left to their despair. Destruction tore through, gnashing like monstrous teeth, ripping people and country apart. Those cherished and lost were mourned. It was inevitable, as an adventurer, that tears would be shed.
All was not bad, however. She’d seen success and triumph. Nations united, bonds forged, people working side by side to rebuild. In her own life, Mid made many friends and still had comrades she adventured with regularly.
On the lake, water rippled gently, sending shivers through the reflections of the trees. The blue and purple hues struck Mid sharply, reminding her of a certain foe’s purple/blue cape. She smiled and she remembered.
She and her comrades had gathered to thwart the threat of Omega. They had overcome many trials, and here they were again, facing down a powerful mage, Exdeath. Weapons were sharpened; strategies discussed. The band of heroes eager to be victorious over such a mighty foe.
The group joked and laughed as they made their way. The mood grew somber, voices quieted as they drew closer. Only the soft swoosh of weapons being drawn remained.
Mid looked at her fellow adventurers. Her friends. She couldn’t help but smile and her heart swelled with both anticipation for the coming brawl and admiration for those standing beside her.
The silence was heavy. One could taste the anticipation; like copper and sweat. Then a snicker broke the quiet. Mid jumped, looking around. The snicker became a giggle. Then another voice, “tee hee”. Soon, half the party was stifling laughter. Mid noticed, her own mouth turning up, a chuckle threatening to leap out.
The party was clad in armor, ready for anything. That is, all of the party save one. Mid could no longer contain her laughter; peeling forth gleefully. The whole group busted into riotous guffaws as they looked at their comrade. There she stood, not in armor, but in wear more suited for water. Not one of them had noticed.
She stood there, cheeks burning with embarrassment and gave a little shrug. The erupted as she looked around at everyone, gave a “silly me” gesture with her hands, and just said, “Oops.”

(Prize: noble barding).