Traveler

Azlyn found a quiet spot by a waterfall somewhere in Middle La Noscea. The nature of the area was calming, despite her present look. She sat by the riverbank, taking off her boots and socks—cleaning them and hanging them up to dry over a fire. She then stripped, changing into a last pair of leggings and her ripped shirt from before. She scrubbed the fabric hard, hoping that the blood wouldn’t stain. 

She camped there for the night, laying down by the fire to stare up at the night sky. The cooling effect of the water overhead, and the warmth of the orange glow beside her lulled her into sleep, as she cradled the book she had with her since her left Sharlayan. It was one of the last things her parents owned that she carried with her—and that was now gone. 

Any thought of mending it seemed like a waste of time—as it was far too destroyed to recover. Not to mention it was missed quite a slew of it’s pages. The Auroch had finished the job of that. It was probably by the grace of the Dawn Father, and her parents that moved her to the right, despite her legs crying in protest. Had it not, she would have been the one impaled to the wall, and probably stabbed over and over until it was tired. 

She awoke the next morning, last night’s plague was just a passing nightmare at this point. She stretched, yawning as the morning sun reflected off the water dropping from the cliff above. She brought out several oranges from her sack, and ate a few for breakfast. Some galagos had started to perk their heads around at the sight of them. She noticed them staring, and she sighed. She packed quickly, putting out the fire, and as the last thing she could do, she left over ten oranges on the ground for them if they wanted it. 

She prepared for a long day again, as she stepped foot into Summerford Farms. She could feel the stares, but she ignored them as she walked up the hill to Staelwryn. He seemed surprised by her sudden visit, but not unwilling to tell her what was on his mind. 

Apparently Sevrin had received a letter early that morning, and had been acting suspiciously ever since. It wasn’t until he absconded with his pals that left a sour taste in Staelwryn’s mouth. 

She walked down to the gate, where she found the guards keeper. She asked about the whereabouts of Sevrin, to which she’d been told he was last seen heading in the direction of Woad Whisper Canyon. She had to head to the Descent, a man made bridge that led further into the canyon, and take to chasing them from there. 

The problem she had was she was still empty handed. 

Though that was of little concern, as the perceived threat of Sevrin’s actions led her to investigate further. It wasn’t until she started her descent down the overarching stairs when she found a hunched over Aylmer. He looked out of breath. 

“Az-Azlyn.” She leaned down to him, gauging his wounds. 

“Aylmer, what happened?” 

“Of all the dirty, deceitful, downright dastardly deeds that slippery bastard’s done! Claiming to that the lads out for a drink, only to lead us straight into a bloody trap! It don’t get no lower than that!” Aylmer vented, as she helped him up to his feet. 

It was then that he looked at her, and her lack of book. “Your book is destroyed too, thanks to that bastard.” He reached back into his pack, pulling out a dagger. “Take this, if you’re going after him, you’re going to need this.” 

He started to run up the Descent now, probably to get help from Summerford Farms—but if his hurry was any indication—his friends were in trouble. Gripping the knife, she started to sprint down the wooden path and straight into the gorge. It was there that she found a gasping Eyrimhus, as if he just escaped from trouble. 

Azlyn leaned down to help him. “Are you alright?” 

He looked up at her, as he crumpled at the sight of her. “Why ye—even after all the trouble we caused—if you’re going over there—you’d best be prepared. But seeing you up ‘gainst the Auroch’s yesterday made me think twice about ye.” He saw the dagger in her hands. He produced his axe, and handed it to her. “Take this. My axe may as well’ve been a white flag for all the good it did—may it serve you better—and give those sorry bastards what they’re in for.” 

She nodded, helping the man to his feet. 

“Don’t die now—I still owe you a proper drink.” 

Shaking her head, she pointed up to the Descent for him to make his ascent back up. When he had started up the path, she turned back to the gorge, axe and dagger in hand, and rushed down below. 

Sozai Rarzai was leaning against the cliff, clutching his side as she approached. She went to aide him, but he shook her off. “Sevrin might’ve got us into this mess, but I ain’t about to let him give his life for us. I’d sooner bow to a fish back than be a connivin’ bastard’s debt! To arms!” He tried to step out, but dropped to his knee once more. Azlyn shook her head, pointing back to the Descent. 

“You’re more burden than help—I have this. Go.” 

She didn’t wait for him to leave, rushing forward into the center of the chaos as a loud, azure-tattooed man looked down at a sniveling Sevrin. 

“A true knave! You even betray yourself, Sevrin!” He kicked him square in the solar plexus. Azlyn ran to a complete stop. Just behind the curled Sevrin to look at the bald pirate standing above. He had several of his tattoo’d bunch of pirates standing by with crossed arms. That was probably why he was so calm—despite her sudden appearance. 

“We were prepared to overlook the matter of your desertion on the condition that you provided us with suitable replacements. That was the agreement. Yet your latest change of heart leaves your debt to us unpaid. Few are they who betray the Serpent Reavers twice. You will not do so a third time.”

It was then that he finally noticed her arrival. He stared at her squarely before shrugging back down to Sevrin. “Cowering behind your protector will only delay the inevitable. Honorless wretch—your life is all you have left. And worthless though it may be, we shall take it!” He then turned his gaze to a boulder behind them, Azlyn followed her gaze. 

It was then that she found a black cloaked figure standing by—she widened her eyes as she recognized the same patterns that ran down the sleeves. The black mask covering half their face—it was the same figure in her visions. Azlyn took a defensive stance, brandishing her burrowed axe to her side. 

The masked man started to speak, such a strange language flowed from his lips, even all the ancient languages she spoke was not apart of the ones he let slip from his tongue. It didn’t bode well for her, as the ground’s rock started to shift and float, melding together to create a giant rock golem. She looked down at her axe, and up at the rock golem with wide eyes. 

She was going to need to make a strategy, and quick. It charged her from the get-go. She swung at it’s weak-point, what she assumed was at his knee joint. It just clanged against the hard rock, and she found herself feeling the impending shake as the shock of the force went up her arms. 

She was going to need another strategy. 

It was then that she saw the glowing gem at the core of it’s being. She could swing her axe at it, but she would need to get it to drop down. Which brought her to her dagger. She pulled it out, flipping it up and catching it by the hilt in one hand, and then immediately chunked it with force. It landed with a decisive blow, as the creature dropped to it’s knee. She then charged forward, swinging her axe in a whirlwind of circles and thrashed against the gem until it finally shattered. It crumbled down, as the arcanima energy dissipated once the source of it's power was gone. 

Azlyn slammed the head of the axe down into the boulder in front of her, placing one foot on top staring darkly at the pirates in front of her. "I still have plenty more where that comes from."

The strange language filled the space, as she realized no one was in the gorge. While she was fighting the pirates must have fled the scene. She finally looked up at the mountain, where she thought she heard the strange mage talking, but found no one present. She frowned. 

"Azlyn!" She heard a familiar voice, the one Staelwyrn had formerly called Y’shtola, came running to her side. Turning, she saw her run to a stop, her hands at her side. Y’shtola sighed. “The snake slithered away.” 

Y’shtola looked back to the Descent, “Had I been a bit quicker—but I am only glad he did not only have the chance to sink his fangs more deeply into you.” 

Azlyn looked back to the cliff where she had thought that black hooded male was, “There was a —” She gripped her head as her head felt like it would be split into two. As she groaned, she saw her vision turn to darkness. A new scene played before her. She was within a cavern, where Y’shtola had been lying in wait. That was where she saw what Y’shtola was eavesdropping on three pirates. 

“Those pirates do not belong to any of the known Lominsan factions—whom then do they serve? The beast tribes? Surely not. But the timing of their appearance coincides all too neatly with the recent surge in Sahagin and kobold activity—something is afoot. The question is: what?” The vision Y’shtola spoke calmly as she watched from afar. 

Azlyn felt a shift in the vision, where she could see the cultured conjurer continue to surmise. “Twelve help us if it should prove so. Limsa would be hard pressed to keep a single primal at bay, let alone two. But all is yet speculation. I must needs find evidence.” 

The scenery changed from that cavern space with the paved tiles to the dock looking out to the ocean. Y’shtola looked out in the sea, observing. “The seas continue to rise—while the lesser moon continues to fall. And ilm by ilm, the world becomes ever more unlike itself. It is as Louisoix foretold.” Azlyn watched as the cultured conjurer looked down. 

“The coming of chaos  has rendered the laws of nature mutable, blurring the boundary between the material and aetherial planes—Little now stands between us and the primals.” 

Azlyn felt like Y’shtola was looking right at her within the vision, as she could see her look up to stare at the sky, presumably behind her in the vision. “But they are not here yet. ‘Though time be against us, hope shall ever be on our side’. Never did the creed of Sharlayan ring more true.” The seagulls flew above, as the scene changed once again. 

This time the cultured conjurer was sitting on a crate, her goggles were on as she was studying the aetherial energies.  “Never did I dream that I would possess the means to see aether—yet now that I do, I do begin to take it for granted. How swiftly do the wonders of Sharlayan seem commonplace.” 

Azlyn understood that quite well—after living over a decade on the Isle of Val one could easily get used to the tools and fun access to things. A young girl walked up to the Miqo’te in the vision, handing her a pretty white flower. 

“Here for you. Have you come for the festivities? Today the Malestrom officially makes that great hole in the sea its training ground. Join in the celebration!” Y’shtola accepted the flower from the young girl, lifting the flower to her nose to enjoy the fragrance. And then she hopped off the crates. She popped her goggles back on to look out into the distance. 

“Wait. A disturbance in the aetheric flow. But whence does it emanate? Seasong Grotto, perhaps?” And she started to run from Limsa’s port and out to where Azlyn assumed was the Seasong Grotto. 

The Au Ra shook her head, shaking the vision from her eyes as she tried to steady herself. This time she didn’t collapse from the vision taking her away, as she was still standing on top of the golem she destroyed with just an axe and dagger. 

Y’shtola was leaning by Sevrin, having taken the ropes off his arms and legs. “What have we here—? Can you walk?” 

 Azlyn blinked rapidly to help alleviate the pain. She stepped down from the golem, axe forgotten as she stopped just behind the Miqo’te. Sevrin got up, nodding his thanks. 

A buzzing sound from Y’shtola alerted her, as she tapped her ear where Azlyn could see the Linkpearl activate. She watched her talk into the device with a relative calm. “‘Tis I. Regrettably no. He eluded me. Understood. I will inform the commodore.” She ended the call, and then looked to Azlyn. “You zoned out from the overexertion—are you suitably recovered?” 

To this, she gestured to him by her side. “Sevrin here has apprised me of all that transpired. His account shed some light upon how you came to be attacked by a golem of all things. And at a heavy disadvantage at that.” She gestured to the axe still buried in the rubble.

“As you might have known, a golem is a mindless automaton. Common pirates could not hope to control such a thing, so arcane are its working. These tattooed wretches are no common pirates—they are the minions of the Sahagin. As to the purpose—well, I shall get to the bottom of it.” The Miqo’te promised, tapping her chin with her hand. 

“But first I must escort Sevrin back to his place of employment. I dare say Staelwyrn will be wondering what has become of him. And you too, for that matter. I will bear word to him of your preservation, but I am certain he would like to thank you in person. Pray pay the man a visit.” 

Azlyn nodded, about to walk away to retrieve the items she borrowed to save Sevrin. It was the least she could do to return them to their owners. Y’shtola called out to her, smiling. 

“He told me of you, but perchance he did not tell you of me. My name is Y’shtola. I am a naturalist of sorts—surveying the aether in the hope that it might offer up some clue as to our predicament.” 

“And I’m Azlyn. A mere traveler.” She gave her a small smile, tapping on her neck, referring to Y’shtola’s goggles. “I had a feeling—your goggles are a tool for measuring aetherial energy. I get it.” She reached down to the hilt of the axe, yanking it up from the stone. Sevrin looked uncomfortable, staring at the ground as she dug into the dirt to find the dagger now.

“If you permit me to ask—” Y’shtola crossed her arms, looking at the girl’s empty book holster on her side. “Whatever happened to your grimoire?”

She noted Sevrin’s tension rise at her question, and surmised it may have been his fault. 

Azlyn found the dagger, sighing. “I messed up in the Cookpot. It was my mistake.” She walked the dagger over to Sevrin now, and laid the dagger out for him to take. He gave her a wide-eyed look as she replied. “It’s not my place to tell you how to live your life—but you should treat your friends with better respect. Maybe extend it over to the farmers as well.” 

And she walked away. Y’shtola just watched the exchange silently. Before she could leave, Sevrin called out to her, gripping the dagger. “I’d say I owed you my life—but that don’t cover it. If it weren’t for you, my friends would be dead, an’ all. ‘Tis a debt I can never repay. But I’ll not make things worse by runnin’ away.” He looked to Y’shtola. He seemed compliant. “Take me to Summerford Farms, an’ I’ll face the consequences.” 

Sevrin left, holding the dagger in his hand. It seemed like he had quite a bit to think about. 

Y’shtola looked to Azlyn. “For reasons I cannot fathom, you seem—“ She paused. She shook her head, decided to follow after Sevrin. “Forgive me. Mayhap we shall have a chance to speak again when I have marshaled my thoughts.” 

Azlyn called out to her. “Until our paths next cross.”

She smiled, nodding. “Farewell.” 

She waited quite a bit to give them a bit of a head start. Azlyn didn’t want Sevrin to be uncomfortable if she were right at their heels walking. So she went to the golem’s carcass and started to pick through the rocks. She found the piece of the gem she shattered, or pieces of it, and collected what she could. 

Before she realized it, an hour had passed and she decided it was a good time to start her trek back to Summerford Farms. Azlyn took the long route, enjoying the warm sun on her back. Her black shirt that had been washed last night felt just a little damp in the crisp air. 

Azlyn found herself getting used to swinging an axe around, but she did miss her carbuncle. 

As she crossed the gates of Summerford farms, and up the hill, she found Staelwryn at his usual spot, with Sevrin right beside him. 

“Lo! I knew you’d return! Y’shtola delivered Sevrin a bit ago. Tales of your heroic deeds precede you. The rest came shufflin’ back, too—the lot of ‘em sportin’ the same haunted expression.” 

Azlyn pulled out the axe that had been given to her, and handed it over to Staelwryn. “For Aylmer, he was kind enough to let me borrow it.” 

Sevrin stepped forward, his face resolute. “It’s me who’s to blame for that—that an’ the rest.” he sighed, revealing his connection. “I was once a Serpent Reaver.”

Staelwyrn gave him such a complexed expression. It then hardened as he stated. “A thrall to the Sahagin? Seven hells—Reavers may look and sound and act like pirates, but they’re naught but the fishbacks’ flunkies.”

Sevrin nodded. “Us pirates ain’t much for laws, but there’s things we won’t do. We’ve got a code—see, but the Reavers’ve never followed a word of it. A few years back, they started snatchin’ law-abidin’ Lominsans. I’d only just taken my oath when our captain bent the knee to his new Sahagin masters. I knew I had to get away.” 

Azlyn crossed her arms. “So you gave them the slip?”

He sighed, “I crept off one night, got myself a new name—Summerford Farms. Trouble is, secrets don’t stay for long ‘round here, an’ word spread—all the way back to the sea.” Sevrin scratched his head, knowing what he was about to say may lead him to a straight execution. “The penalty for desertion if death, but the Reavers offered me a way out instead—my freedom in exchange for my mates’.”

Staelwryn presented crossed his arms. “Was that what the letter was about?” 

Sevrin nodded. “I dunno what I was thinkin’” He snorted. “I wasn’t bloody thinkin’. Too busy soilin’ meself.” He was wiping his face with his arm. 

Staelwryn shook his head. But was giving the lad a way out it seemed. “Aye, but you got there in the end, didn’t you? When the time came, you made the right decision. The men say little to me, but I hear ‘em talk of how you stood up to the Reaver’s at the last—of how you tried to give your life to save theirs.”

Azlyn nodded. “Aylmer, Eryimhus, and Sozai Rarzai also said the same to me—even though they were being betrayed. They still wanted to help their friend.” 

“Be that as it may, no deed, however good, can atone for the crime of betrayin’ your brethren.” This time he looked at Azlyn with a sad expression. “You were right. I should have respected the code—the code of my brethren. And I failed.” Sevrin lifted both of his arms up, as if ready for them to tie him up with rope. “I know that now, I do. That’s why I’m going to hand myself over to the Yellowjackets. I’ll bring shame to the farm no more.”

Staelwyrn scoffed. “You’ll hear no arguments for me. Each man must sail accordin’ to his own moral compass. I just hope yours guides you back here someday. There will always be a place for you at Summerford Farms Sevrin.” 

This caused the young lad to smile, some tears to start welling in his eyes. He wiped them away with his arms. “An’ I’ll always be in your debt, Staelwryn. You as well.” He motioned to Azlyn. “I’m truly sorry about your book.” 

She waved off his concern. “It was my fault. Go, make peace with your choices.” 

He nodded, sniffling as he walked away. 

Staelwryn looked down at her, curious about what happened to her book, and judging his expression, he must have figured Sevrin was behind it’s disappearance. “I owe you a debt too Azlyn. Not once have you let me down. Thank you for savin’ the men of my farm. If I could ask one more favor of you, it’d be this: tell Baderon what’s happened; from start to finish. I’m certain he’d put in a good word for Sevrin if he knew the whole story. And he’s one of the few people I know who the Yellowjackets’ll listen to.” He gave her a relaxed wave. “Well, I reckon I’ve asked all I can possibly ask of you. Safe travels, Azlyn.” 

She nodded, looking over the cliff down at Summerford Farms. The last three days had been eventful, and she thought she’d miss being on the outside—but she had other pressing concerns to attend to. Such as finding a new book. 

Azlyn bid goodbye, walking a few back away before activating a teleport spell back into Limsa Lominsa. She had saved a bit of Gil from her time traveling between Tiller’s Rest and Summerford Farms. 

The smell of the ocean came across her senses first, as she then found herself in front of the giant crystal aetheryte in the lower decks of Limsa. She didn’t bat a lash as she raised her hand up to begin a quick transport to the Upper deck through the Aftcastle. 

Slowly, she walked over to the Drowned Wench where Baderon was wiping his counter clean. She pulled up a chair. “How’s business.” 

“Pretty good—how’s it going lass?” He looked up, and noticed her dark circles under her eyes. “Holy shite, ye look like ye’ve been through the ringer.” 

She smiled, “Thank you for the compliment.” And she started to explain everything that happened, from when she first set foot in Summerford, to the very end. She neglected to add the part about the odd ball jobs, or the Auroch incident in the Cookpot. 

Baderon was playing with his beard. “Bloody ‘ells! Life on the farm ain’t quite ‘ow I pictured it. But don’t ye worry yerself over young Sevrin. The Yellowjackets as ‘ands out the punishments is a good mate o’ mine. If I ask ‘im nice, I reckon ‘e’d be willin’ to commute the lad’s sentence from ‘angin’ to keelhaulin’. Kindly gent that ‘e is.”

Azlyn nodded, agreeing to the terms as well. She wasn’t one for hanging a young kid—even if he was a spoilt pirate brat. 

“I’m only jestin’ with ye! I’ll see ‘e’s treated fair.” He winked, but Azlyn was still kind of hoping he’d get keelhaulin’ anyway. It sounded like a tough job. 

“And I must say, it sounds to me like ye’ve done everythin’ ol’ Staelwryn asked of ye an’ more—justifyin’ me generous finder’s fee in the process. Much obliged, lass.” He winked, and Azlyn shook her head. No wonder he was all hyped about getting her over there three days ago. She should have known, money makes the world go round, and she needed it in order to get by. 

Baderon seemed to catch her disapproval, and sighed himself. “Let me finish lass—since I knew ye were a bit tight on Gil, I pulled a couple strings and managed to get you free lodgin’s—‘ow’s that for a reward, eh?” This caught Azlyn’s ears, as she felt her jaw drop. He chuckled at her, tapping on the bottom of her chin to bring it back up to her face. “It’s the least I could do fer ye. But that ain’t all, as an agreement I had to sign yer name on some leveboards. Simple work, which pays well mind ye, so it’s a good bargain. Ye did say ye’d do ‘nythin’.” 

She nodded, thankful for an opportunity to make more money. Legally even to boot. 

“Go give T’mokkri a call when yer ready for some work. I already mentioned about ye to her. She’ll always have some work available for ye.” 

Azlyn smiled, her face full of relief at the thought of a free room, but work that’d be available whenever she needed it. This went from the second worst day to the best day in her life. That was saying something.

Baderon leaned on the counter, his keen eye never missing the details. “Mind explainin’ what the devil happened to yer spell slinging book?” He wouldn’t drop the topic until she reluctantly pulled it out from her bag. He lifted up the tome, eyes wide with horror and fascination as he could see straight through to Azlyn. 

“Bloody ‘ells. What manner of beast did this?”

She sighed, “An Auroch. I managed to get out of there, but — the question remains where I can get a new one just like it.” 

Baderon laid the book on the counter as gently as he could. “S’pose ye could check the market boards. Maybe someone is sellin’ one? Or perhaps them spell slingers might have one fer ye.” He offered some valid options, so she nodded. 

“I’ll check it out tomorrow morning. I’m going to take full advantage of that free room you’ve set me up for.” Azlyn grinned like a kid on Christmas. Baderon nodded to her, as she gathered her book back into her bag. She bid him a good night, and gleefully ask the innkeeper for a place to rest in for the remainder of the day. Azlyn was going to enjoy the quiet space of the room, and finish reading that book Thubyrgeim gave her.