Traveler

The following week had been a crash course lesson into learning the art of becoming a Marauder. She took this lessons late in the evening, and used her mornings to help her coinpurse at the Culinarian’s guild. On alternate days, she went to Melvaan’s Gate where she studied under K’lyhia for arcanima. While she may not have had a book, she could still study it and learn how to better harness the power. 

Azlyn had learned that Kujata, an Auroch known as the Stampeding Mountain, was a force to be reckoned with—as he completely saw through their bait and lure tactic. He sent over herds of plainstriders to them in response, causing many of the creatures to grow frenzied. 

To protect the cargo and everyone on site, Azlyn had to stop them from further destruction. It was a failure of an operation, but it was. A good opportunity to grow and develop as a Marauder. The travel over to Aleport wasn’t such a bad thing either, as it opened another Aethernet point for her to travel to when she needed it. 

Even though she was incredibly busy, Baderon had not given her a moment’s reprise—as he had given her plenty of work for her to become a more recognized adventurer in the lands. His last work had sent her back to The Descent in Lower La Noscea, where she helped with the deliveries and inventory being sent to this growing sky lift. She helped the Yellowjackets in the area, by keeping the monsters at bay with her axe, and also giving them a peace of mind. 

Her last job at the Skylift had sent her over to growing settlement, in Western la Noscea located in the heart of desert land Quarterstone. She delivered several bags of millicorn seedlings to a Yellowjacket named Lulyf on duty, saw how dry the farming lands were comparatively to Tiller’s Rest and Summerford Farms, and noted how miserable everyone was residing within. 

She made sure to attune to the Aerthernet Crystal in Swiftperch before teleporting by to Limsa Lominsa to report her completion of the task Baderon had given her. She had other things to worry about as well, as they had an early morning operation to slay another prowling menace in La Noscea. 

She found herself in the heart of Western La Noscea, where a monster had been terrorizing the inhabitants in Aleport. The Marauders Guild teleported over, to watch their princess in action as she took down a mighty Patripatan, a long whispered hunkering mountain lion cat. It’s hide had been hard to cut, and it was fast on all four of it’s legs—but she was able to get the job done. She had to avoid the spells it casted, as it shifted between a blinding flash to a mighty roar. 

The blood of it’s latest kill splashed against her cheek and upper torso as she put away her axe. Behind her, she could hear the cheers of them calling her their Bloody Princess of the Sea—to which to sighed. In her attempt to keep that title down, the Twelve above must have thought it most fitting—and spread the name through all of La Noscea. She would have grown red in embarrassment had it not been a week full of her being called as such. 

Axemaster Wyrnzoen was pleased with her progress, teaching her a new technique to train on. He then sent his guild out to train in the fields and help the townspeople in Aleport. 

With her morning exercise done, she went to Baderon in the mid-morning to afternoon for him to give her another assignment. This time, it was back to Swiftperch. A friend of his had requested for her to come out to help them out with a recent problem. 

This settlement was called Swiftperch, and it would be one of the many colonies that faced heavy hardships after the calamity. It was one of many colonies built to help rebuild the farmlands and aetheryte camps—but even still, the lands in Quarterstone were bleak and barren. The soil had taken a turn for the worst after the calamity. While few farmers remained, the lands were mostly used experimentally for crops.

And that was why Azlyn teleported over—to see what aide she could give, despite being incredibly busy. She looked around asking for Fraeloef, the one who initially wrote for her to come. It didn’t take long to find him, as he was standing on guard duty by one of the gates into the settlement.

“By the Navigator, did Baderon send me the Bloody Princess of the Sea?” Fraeloef called her, and she sighed. Her trepidation of the nickname continued to haunt her even as she moved further into the La Noscean coasts.

“You know a lot of people mistake me for her, it’s surprising how much that happens.” Azlyn deadpanned, wondering if he would buy it or not.

“It’s still quite the compliment lass! It’d sure be nice to meet her though, anyroad, the lighthouse over yonder has grown dangerously dim. You see, there?” He pointed over to the lighthouse in the distance, and she had to squint her eyes to see. The light was barely lit from her observation. “The problem is the ships out in the sea won’t be able to see it and might wind up sailing into unseen hazards. Could we ask you to go to Brewer’s Beacon, and check on Khanswys?”

She nodded, now walking her way up the long winding dirt path to Brewer’s Beacon. The path was littered with monsters and creatures more hostile than the last. A pack of desert wolves tried to attack her, but with her axe she was able to take care of them with ease. Some Qiqirn scavengers tried to ambush her on the road, those rodent-like beastmen, but they also stood no chance when Azlyn brandished her axe.

Azlyn wondered if her prowess as a marauder had finally paid off somehow. While she missed arcanima, there was nothing she could do until a substitute book was found for her to take with her. She borrowed one for her training with K’lyhia in the mornings but needed to return it back as soon as they were finished. She hoped her book would arrive soon, Baderon said they were able to get ahold of a copy. Except it would take a bit of time for delivery.

So, she had to wait—and wondered how they were able to obtain a book with Sharlayan markings. And it wasn’t as if she could ask for further explanation, as she had been sent out to Swiftperch to deal with this lighthouse issue.

Steadily she climbed the path, going up the cracked pavers of the lighthouse. She could see a large doorknocker on the wooden frame. Lifting it up, she dropped it twice on the door, alerting the occupant of her arrival. “Excuse me! My name is Azlyn, I was sent over from Swiftperch to check on a Khanswys?”

There was a hurried response behind the door. The shuffling of feet behind made her wonder for a moment, but not long to worry as the door thrust itself open. She could see a distraught lighthouse keeper adjusting her soot-covered pants and shirt with dirty black hands.

“Di-did you say Khanswys? That’s me—yes. Yes. I’m in a bit of a jam, sorry could you just inform them that I’m working on it?” She was about to close the door on her, but she prevented her from doing so. She placed her whole body in the frame, catching the door before it was shut.

“Whatever is the problem? If it’s something I can do to help, feel free to ask. You look—” She tried to find the right words. “nervous.” Azlyn threw out the first word that rose off her lips.

“Ner—nervous? No-no, I’m not nervous. Just a bit over my el-element.” She sighed, opening the door to the lighthouse. Khanswys gestured for her to come inside.

As she entered, she could see quite the struggle that had happened inside, and she walked over to a broken iron furnace. The floors, the walls, the person herself—Azlyn could see black soot everywhere now. “Can you explain what happened? Did someone rob you or something?” She didn’t mind the black soot, as her boots stepped into it.

“Un-unforeseen accident, t-the furnace broke and the bomb that was in-inside went berserk. Caught me off guard it did. I tried to contain it, but…” She gestured to the broken tool. “Without the bomb, I can’t light the beacon above. I’m worried I’ll lose my job at this rate.” She looked ready to breakdown. Azlyn walked over to comfort her.

“It’s going to be alright, where did you last see the bomb? Maybe I can lure it back.” The woman pointed to the broken window heading out into the farmland. Azlyn could see a scarecrow in the distance.

“If it’s still alive the furnace won’t do any good. The thing is broken.” She sighed.

Azlyn pondered hard. “Would a remnant of the bomb suffice for the time being? Until someone can come by to make the repairs?”

Khanswys sniffled, wiping the soot from under her eyes. “May-maybe the claw can produce better lighting until a repair can be made.”

Then that as the plan. Azlyn pulled her axe out, and then pointed to the furnace. “Mind if I take your furnace and bring it with me? I think I can make this work out for you.”

She nodded, accepting the help.

The Au Ra walked out to the pasture, placing the furnace down on the ground by the place the bomb had retreated to. She then took out a piece of metal stone, and a rock; striking them against one another to start a small fire within the furnace. Maybe this would incite the bomb to come out and wreak more havoc if it was looking for revenge.

As the fire grew, she could feel the heat pick up—and it wasn’t from the afternoon sun. She found herself standing off with the bomb that picked the fight with the lighthouse keeper. Azlyn brought forth her axe, preparing her stance as she cracked her neck. “Come on little bomb-bomb, let’s see what you got.”

It grew brighter, casting fire spells one after the other at her. She tried to get closer, hoping to get within a short proximity to it, but the bomb was great at retreating back when she got too close. She heaved a sigh—she was hoping to use this new technique she learned from Axemaster Wyrnzoen soon, but not this soon. Taking aim, she drew the bombs attention and tomahawked her axe right into the center of it’s face. Or what should have been its face. She watched it get brighter and brighter, until finally it burst into an explosion of bits and fire flesh parts. Her axe dropped to the ground, a bright red hue to its metal as it was buried deep in broiling hot fire.

She ran over to examine the parts that fell, looking for the claw that Khanswys had told her about. After several minutes of searching, she finally found an intact claw by the scarecrow, glowing an orangish hue. Azlyn scooped it up with a nearby shovel, running it over to the furnace to place the object inside. Then she went to retrieve her axe, as it had been given a bit of time to cool down.

As a precaution though, she wouldn’t use it for fear the metal would be soft.

Retrieving the furnace, she slowly walked it back inside to a waiting Khanswys. She was nervously watching from the window, and when Azlyn returned, she threw her arms around her thanking her profusely. The girl brushed off her thanks and offered to help clean the place up.

“The way you wielded your axe! It’s as if you’re the Bloody Princess of the Sea in the flesh!” Khanswys threw some water on the floor as Azlyn mopped. She scrubbed the floorboards hard to get the black stains out.

“Coincidence.” Azlyn replied, rolling up her sleeves to continue her task. “Khanswys, how long do you think this repair will last?”

She was hoping with the redirection, it would bring the topic away from the Bloody Princess title.

“Hrmm—not long I’m afraid.” The lightkeeper shook her head, wiping the walls with a damp cloth. “It’d probably last a week or so, but that’s wishful thinking.”

Azlyn quirked her head. “So you need repairs sooner rather than later.” She finished cleaning up. “I’ll inform Fraeloef of what happened and see if there’s anything he can do to get you some more help over here.”

Khanswys nodded, thankful for the additional help. “Thank you Azlyn, I appreciate your time. Thank you for cleaning my floors!”

She bid farewell once her task was complete and made her way back to Swiftperch. It wasn’t long before she approached Fraeloef with her report on the lighthouse.

“Strange—I’ll go ahead and create a report on what you’ve investigated for me. Could you do me a favor since you’ll be heading back to Limsa? I’m afraid with the furnace’s condition it might be too fragile.” He quickly jotted down a missive and handed it over to her. “Please deliver this to Forgemaster H’naanza in the Armorer’s Guild. This missive should be all the information they’ll need.”

Azlyn bid them farewell. She teleported back to Limsa Lominsa. She had gotten used to using the crystals around La Noscea and was happy that it saved her some time and energy. It helped her tight schedule too, although it did cost Gil to use it. She paid her fee to the guard who first told her about teleporting, thanked him, and quickly headed to the Armorer’s Guild. She knew where it was at, as it was close to the Culinarian’s Guild where she baked in the mornings.

It wasn’t hard to find the Forgemaster, as they were in the middle of lecturing a trainee about the ironwork and proper melding. Azlyn slowly eased her way forward, producing the letter for them to see. As if thankful to not have to lecture, the Miqo’te master sighed, reading the missive.

“We’ll take care of the furnace and do all the necessary repairs. But that’s strange. I could have sworn that it was just recently fixed. Maybe the bomb was overtly volatile? Or—” The Miqo’te shook their head, deciding to drop the matter. “No worries, we’ll take care of the rest. Oh—ain’t you that lass over in the Culinarian Guild? You bake them fruit tarts every now and then, right?”

Azlyn was surprised someone liked those. She always added foreign fruits on it, which didn’t seem to appeal to many there in Limsa. “Oh yeah, I made those back when I was living in Sharlaya. My parents grew their own fruits.”

The forgemaster smiled, “They’re pretty amazing, I always buy out the lot. It’s too bad the rest of those pirates are missing out on a good dish.” They winked. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Unless you’re interested in making armor? I wouldn’t mind someone as talented as you.”

The Au Ra gave it some thought, before deciding why not. And that was how she became an armorer. Her first initiation test wasn’t bad—and she passed with flying colors. She wondered if everyone had a test like this before joining the guilds. She shrugged, all it presented for her was more opportunities to make money.

It was shortly after completing her first task for Forgemaster H’naanza when they approached her with another written missive. The forgemaster smiled at her proud of her quick ability to pick up armory work. “I’m quite surprised at how versatile you are, maybe you’d be pretty good at being a blacksmith—don’t go, I want you working for me.” They pleaded at the end, to which Azlyn chuckled. The armorer guild had been butting heads with the blacksmith’s guild for quite some time.

Azlyn accepted the missive, looking at it curiously. H’naanza explained. “The person that will go to is called Ahtbym. They’re the head shipwright at Moraby Drydocks.”

She had never been to this place before, so she produced her map to find it. H’naanza rolled out the parchment and pointed it out within the Gods’ Grip region of Lower La Noscea.

“Moraby Drydocks was spared fortunately from the calamity, however it’s been swamped with long queues for repairs on all the Lominsan battleships. Currently Naldiq & Vymelli’s is the main office over there, overseeing the work being done—and I’m stuck over here unable to supervise.  So I’d like for you to go over to assist, since it’s quite important for our fleet. It is heavily protected by The Maelstrom itself. Surprising, I know.”

The Forgemaster pointed out a quick route for her to take, as she’d never been that direction. “I’ve heard they’re almost done with the Victory, one of the first battleships to be produced after the Calamity—but who knows what actual stage they’re at. They’ve hired all sorts of folks from adventurers to former pirates. We used to do the work, but the Calamity saw an end to that.”

H’naanza shook their head. “Well, no need to head out tonight. It’s much too late, just head on over in the morning. Excellent work Azlyn.” They winked, and she waved goodbye to the friends she made over there.

She went back to the inn where she went up to her room to do a bit of reading before bed. She wondered when G’raha would write back to her, since it was already past a week since her last letter. They’d been penpals over the years, as she regaled him of her journey through Carteneau and helping the smaller communities on the outskirts of Eorzea. He’d been pretty good with his replies back, normally coming within the week. She asked Baderon about it earlier that day, but he said he did deliver the letter, and to ask the postmoogle about it. 

And the moogle’s response was as expected. He delivered the letter, but no response had been written to be returned to her. She thought it was strange, but decided maybe the Student’s of Baldesion were busy in something—maybe something required their full attention. 

It happened from time to time, so she decided not to worry about it too much. Maybe when she was done at Moraby Docks she could pen another letter to them. 

The night went by uneventfully, and she awoke early in the morning to head out at first dawn. She teleported to Tempest Gate, where she travelled south instead of her usual trip northeast to Red Rooster Stead. Her walk was peaceful, granted a few hostile creatures every once and a while. Azlyn felt the travel time matched the same length as it would to head to Red Rooster Stead. But what surprised her was Moraby Drydocks itself. It’s tall, porcelain white walls that towered high. She couldn’t see any of it on her way over, as the mountains were blocking the view of the coast—but it was a sight to behold. 

She approached the gates, they were the type that rose up when the guards posted above gave the order. 

“Who goes there!” A group of three dressed in red Malestrom uniforms approached from the southern side, brandishing their weapons at her arrival. Azlyn reached into her satchel to pull out the Missive she received from H’naanza yesterday evening. “I was asked by Forgemaster H’naanza to come.” 

The tallest of the guard, a gruff Roegabyn plucked the letter from her hands, looking at the contents before staring Azlyn down. He folded the letter and handed it back to her. 

“Welcome to Moraby Drydocks. Don’t cause any troubles—or you’ll be facing the Maelstrom. Understand?” The Roegabyn replied, and the other two officers were waving up to the guards above. Azlyn watched as the gate slowly rose. 

“I understand—and if there’s anything I can do to help out—feel free to ask me.” Azlyn smiled, and the male scoffed. 

“I’m sure you’re busy with the requests from others Bloody Princess, but it’s good to see a face to a name. Reckon the rumors were a bit off, since you’re not covered in blood.” He laughed, walking away with the two officers. 

Azlyn sighed. “That was only one time!” She called out to them, deciding to give up. 

She made her way inside, and found out why Moraby Drydocks was as guarded as it was. Massive ships docked in repair docks, many shipwrights and craftsmen and women were running around with tools and equipment. The settlement was well off—probably closest to build to Limsa Lominsa itself, with it’s white buildings and paved grounds. It became evident that this place had not been hit by the calamity as other places had been. 

She walked over to a group of repairmen on lunch. “Excuse me—I’m looking for Ahtbym. Can you point me to him?” 

A Lalafell pointed over by the Drydocks. “Over yonder. He’s havin’ a tough time with bein’ swamped by all these orders of late. Poor fella.” 

The other shipwrights looked weary, as they were tired from the same overload. 

Azlyn bid them a good lunch, walking over in the direction they indicated. She found a Roegabyn male yelling out to several workers on the Drydocks. She approached. “I was sent to help out an Ahtbym. Is that you?” 

The one she asked looked down at her, surprised by her sudden appearance. “I am Ahtbym, but who are you?” 

Azlyn showed the missive she received from H’naanza and waited for her to read it. When he finished, he seemed less worried of her. “Sorry—it’s not everyday a stranger comes out here.” 

She agreed, “You’re right, but the Forgemaster thought to ask me to help out. So what can I do for you?” She smiled. 

 This was how she got her first assignment—to find a missing crew member who was late for a delivery. She had to head further west, to an outlying post where the delivery was supposed to come from, only to find out from Halbroda that they didn’t see the man in question. 

“Not sure of who you’re speaking of.”

Azlyn narrowed her eyes to Halbroda. “Really? Is that all you know? I find it kind of hard for a person to go missing in his delivery route.” 

He raised their arms in defense. “Look, it could be he died on the Salt Strand—I don’t know. People have been dying more than usual these days with all the craziness going about.” 

It was unfortunate as Azlyn was thinking about how to break the news that this Fyrilsmyd may have died on the salt strand. Although it was still kind of weird, as their wasn’t enough evidence to reach that conclusion. That was until Halbroda brought her out from her reverie. 

“There’s been an accident recently, where survivors have washed up. This person you’re looking for might be one of them. Why don’t you go over and see for yourself?” 

Azlyn rolled her shoulders, grabbing a hair tie from her pocket to pull her curly white and black toned hair into a loose high ponytail. She didn’t have to worry about her hair flying in her face as the wind started to pick up. She could see a storm brewing in the distance. 

“Then I’ll go do as you recommend. Thank you for your time.” She pulled out her axe, and walked her way over to the route of the Salt Strand. The storm had come as abruptly as it started, as Azlyn combed the beaches nearby. It must have been by some fortuitous event that she stumbled across another Roegabyn shipwright nervously huddled by a rock. His clothes were soaked from the rains and sticking to him. He was staring off into the distance. 

Azlyn ran over, also in a similar predicament. “Hey! Are you Fyrilsmyd?”

He jumped at her arrival, the wind made it heard to hear. “Aye—who are you?” He was gripping his arms to prevent himself from shaking. 

“I’m Azlyn, I was sent to find you. Shipwright Master Ahtbym was concerned for you since you missed your delivery!” She shouted over the storm above, the lightning danced across the skies. 

“I can’t head back! The cargo I need is over there!” He pointed, and Azlyn had to squint in the weather to see a small camp set up to withstand the weather. A small fire under a shaky covered tent, and several rodent beastmen were huddled near it. 

Azlyn sighed. “You can’t just leave the cargo?”

Fyrilsmyd shook his head. “Those parts are what keep the Victory held up in from it’s completion. They need those parts.” He explained, starting to shuffle in the sand caked with water.

Azlyn sighed, she wouldn’t be able to go into that camp stealthily, since she’d probably be sighted. However the weather would help in her endeavor to get closer. She brandished her axe, feeling the weight of her water drenched clothes and hair. Despite it being up in the ponytail, she had a feeling it would take a bit of mobility away during combat. She turned to the delivery man. “Stay out of sight. I’ll be back with your cargo. Was it one box or multiple?”

He looked relieved, “Three boxes in total. They’ll have this symbol on the front of it.” He produced a patch out from his pocket. This was more than likely a patch that had all the shipping and data for the delivery stamped on the back of it.

She studied the picture. When she thought she had memorized it, she stalked off into the beach up north. The weather did get worse as the could rolled in angry dark grey clouds, and at times thunderous downpours of rain pelted down from above. Azlyn timed her approaches with quiet footsteps, taking her time around the outskirts. There were two Qiqirn beachcombers sitting at their lookouts but hadn’t been able to see beyond the thrashing elements of the storm. She kept low, hoping the weather would keep it up. She timed her next approach, to crouch beneath the large boxes the Qiqirn were standing next to. Another boom of thunder, and she shuffled over.

She held her breath as she heard the broken common from their tongues. “Strange rains—uncommon—Sahagin upset.” Was the most she could pick up between the broken language of their race and the few common words they spoke. She heard one of them squishing their feet into the sand, and the footfalls seemed to move back to the camp. Deciding to quickly take the opportunity, she eased her way around the crates to see only one Qiqirn nibbling on some food. Azlyn rushed him.

It was a quick exchange, where she jammed the wooden end into the creature’s solar plexus to have him keel over, then she expertly reached down to it’s sidearm to retrieve his whip. She wrapped the coil tightly around it’s snout and mouth before it could call for help. She then proceeded to knock him out with a quick thrust to the back of his neck. He slumped with ease, and she carted him around the crates. She positioned him into a sitting position. She reached up to his hat, angling his large fluffy gathering hat to cover most of his face. She guessed she would have about thirty minutes to get in and out.

Azlyn exhaled a long, steady breath that she held in. That could have ended way worse than it had. She waited for another opportunity, where the rains were heavily pouring. Five minutes now, she had three Qiqirn knocked out when they came over one at a time to inquire what happened to their buddy. She moved over to the side of the tent, keeping to the shadows as she gauged the rest of the camp. She counted at least six more. Those weren’t the ones she was worried about though. The ones she was worried about were the ones she couldn’t count, the ones beyond her sight.

She felt confident that she could take care of six of them with just her axe—after all she had faced down several groups of aurochs before. Though she hoped not to have too much blood spilt.

“Intruder!” Azlyn froze, her whole body frozen. She darted her head to look all around her—but couldn’t see where they spotted her.

“Knocked out…must be near…search!” Through their broken common, she realized they had come across the unconscious four that she rendered useless earlier.

Well, she shouldn’t keep them waiting. She steeled her resolve, and walked confidently out from her spot to the camp. Several Qiqirn beachcombers froze at her just waltzing up, and seemed unsure of her presence. She flashed them a dazzling smile, before raising her axe up. In their tongue as best as she could muster, she replied calmly. “Let’s talk.”

Their conversation turned more into a battle frenzy as they all lunged for their weapons and other things that they thought would be good to use against her. The thunder continued to boom overhead as she cleared out several of them in swooping arcs. She downed several in seconds, and then more tried to jump on her—to stop her from murdering the rest more like—but she was prepared for this and dealt with this offensive maneuver.

It wasn’t long before she was soaked in the blood and rain that fell above.

She scanned for the boxes she needed, finding the three stuff in the back of the tent. She also saw several Qiqirn sleeping inside—probably unaware that their brethren had been slaughtered outside. She left them be, as she quietly pulled what she needed, and left. She carried the three boxes with ease, as many of her deliveries prior to this had been larger, and heavier.

The weather had started to calm itself, as the storm slowly began to break. Fyrilsmyd was still pacing the beach when she approached with the boxes. He paled at the sight of her, as she dropped the boxes at his face. She wiped the rainwater from her face.

“D-Di-Did you kill them all?”

She shook her head, and then sighed. “I’m drenched in blood, aren’t I?” She looked down at her clothes and then at her hands.

He nodded vigorously.

She wiped her hands over her cheeks to see if there was blood on her face as well. She saw the water mix in with the red fluid against her fingertips. “In answer to your question, no. I only took out the ones who were hostile. There were some that were just knocked unconscious, or just sleeping.” Azlyn hoped the blood wouldn’t stain her clothes again, it was hard enough to get them out from her clothes before.

Fyrilsmyd knelt to check the crates she brought back, as he did Azlyn ran into the water of the sea to get rid of the blood. As she gave herself a temporary washing, she came back super soaked with salted water and most of the blood gone. He looked up at her with an awestricken expression. “Everything’s in place—I’m so fortunate to meet the Bloody Princess of the Sea! I heard the rumors, but—” He smiled down at her. “I’m glad you’re on our side—but could I ask you to complete this delivery for me? I need to check in with my crewmates, and the travel would set me back a bit.”

Azlyn nodded, wanting nothing more than to return to the Drydocks to find a room and bath. As the storm began to slowly abate, she bid farewell to the Roegabyn, who ran off the beach and headed back to safety. She reached down to collect the crates, and slowly made her way back to Moraby Drydocks.