Bring Me That Horizon OR Stand Together and Smile (As Heroes Do)

Bring Me That Horizon or Stand Together and Smile (As Heroes Do)

Chapter One

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My death could have been a more impressive one, that much was certain to be true.

Granted, I don’t know how I died, but the last vestiges of my old life linger into my new one as sheer, appalled incredulity. Not the most heroic emotion, obviously, compared to something like ‘resigned determination’ or even ‘desperate hope’. Obviously, I hadn’t died pushing a child out of a speeding car’s path, or taking down some villainous thug, and I found that inordinately depressing.

Or, at least, I would have, if not for the fact that I was still alive. Although, perhaps ‘alive again’ was a better way to put it. And not even in a particularly religious way (though divine intervention had to feature somewhere, I was sure), but the very literally ‘reborn as a new person in a new world’ way.

You know those memes in fan groups on Facebook? “You just woke up in the last video game you played/your favorite video game, where are you?”

Well, on the plus side, I can say that not only are those two factors actually the same exact game, but it had actually happened to me!

On the other side of things, there was the fact that I was in Final Fantasy XIV.

Now, I’m sure most people would think to themselves something along the lines of: “Wow, that’s amazing! Magic, high fantasy, gorgeous women including cat-girls and bunny-girls and Amazonian muscle-mommies, that sounds like an amazing place to be reborn!”

Fair enough, your point is well taken. Allow me to counter it.

Multiple Apocalypses. Routinely Summoned Mind-Control God-Creatures. Rampant Banditry. Evil Midgets. Evil Capitalist Midgets. Oh, and lest I forget: The Sad Bird Girl with the Weaponized Entropy Accelerating the Heat-Death of the Universe.

Yes, much like its many siblings, the universe of FFXIV was a terrifying Death World.

Not that I wasn’t happy to be here, of course, I was just trying to temper expectations and excitement.

My own, actually, since I’ve been talking to myself this entire time.

I really thought I had broken that habit.

I blamed the shock of waking up in and discovering that I was sitting in the main communal room of a Limsan galleon.

“Looking rather deep in thought there, lad. Young fellow like you, oughtn’t you be enjoying the trip with some of these fine sea-sirens we have about?” a deep voice rumbled from a few feet away, and I blinked to myself for a moment before glancing over at the man who had spoken, who turned out to be a miqo’te of all things. Gesturing to the room around me, he continued. “It may be different in Hingashi or Doma, may not either, but in Eorzea you’ll be seeing this quite a bit more often. Even Sharleyan has a spice to their lives, for all that they pretend to be scholarly types.”

“Sharleyan?” I muttered, turning to regard the room as well, something I hadn’t done in the interminable amount of time that had passed since I had ‘woken up’ here. Not with any detail, anyway, after I spotted my first miqo’te and shut down mentally. What I saw was more than enough to distract me, so much so I barely took note of him confirming that Sharleyan herself was our next port of call, before we could continue on to Limsa Lominsa.

It was large, big enough that it could (and probably did, when passengers weren’t the main cargo on a voyage) act as another cargo hold, laid out in a series of circular levels. Each level, or section perhaps, had its own tables, benches, and chairs, arranged as space allowed, and as need required. I, apparently, was sitting on the very lowest and smallest of the tiers, something that in many ways resembled a pit, and despite my bafflement and concern over how the hell I was here, I couldn’t help but admire the architecture of the ship.

The game had, perhaps unsurprisingly, not quite managed to do these ships justice. Despite the magnificent graphics and detailed environments, Square Enix hadn’t quite managed to capture their smooth, sleek beauty. The dark, lacquered wood and polished steel were elegant in their simplicity, keeping the usefulness and strength that survival required without giving much ground on the matter of aesthetic appeal. Indeed, there were plenty of railing caps, beam braces, and lantern hooks that were clearly shaped with the intent of beautifying the space. And the seating arrangements and tables, not being depended upon for structural stability, were almost approaching lovely. Of course, they still would have been considered utilitarian in many ways, compared to similar furniture in the nicer homes of the various nations, but that didn’t really subtract from their appearance, simply made it different.

My eyes swept the room from left to right, a slow scan of environmental inspection as I now focused on the people that I had absent-mindedly ignored in my confusion and delight. Confusion (and delight, it must be said) that only grew when I realized that the vast majority of the people in my sight were women of varying races. Now, I knew as well as the next person that Etheirys, despite being in something akin to the Middle Ages, was a bit more fair when it came to the sexes than Earth had been in the same time frame. Aether, or magitek, making a magnificent equalizer when it came to physical feats, an advantage that hadn’t existed in the world that I had once lived in. Besides that, though, it didn’t really seem all that different from…

My thoughts stuttered to a halt, and with very good reason, as my eyes fell on a threesome directly across from me, on the far side of the pit.

A large Roegadyn was sitting across the pit from me with a cute little brunette Midlander bouncing on his cock in reverse cowgirl. I took a moment to admire her bouncing breasts and to marvel at the fact that she was capable of taking the large shaft that was rhythmically plundering her depths, before glancing further down, towards where their thighs met. A pair of crimson tufted cat ears could be seen twitching excitedly, the tip of a tail waving back and forth like a flag, and I mentally saluted the other man as one girl fucked herself on him with every expression of blissful delight while another had her face buried between his legs, though whether the Miqo’te was giving her attention to the place man and woman met or was ‘simply’ worshipping his balls, I couldn’t tell from here.

As I tore my eyes away with a faint blush staining my cheeks and an erection growing between my legs and looked anywhere and everywhere else, I felt my mouth dry and my heart pound, and with good reason. There were more than a few females from various species eyeing me with a speculative gleam in their eyes. Not any lalafell, thank God, which might have scarred me enough to throw myself overboard as soon as humanly possible, but I realized what the miqo’te fellow had been suggesting when he had first spoken to me.

I could probably just crook my finger at one or more of these girls and bury myself in sex for the next several hours. Something that was obscenely tempting, no pun intended, but as much as I did want to find out what it felt like to indulge in some public sex in my new body, I also wanted to get myself more information. Fortunately, over the course of my inspection of the room, I had spotted a good source of it.

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ve never been on a ship before, and simply sitting here is the best I can manage at the moment. To much energetic movement, and I might find myself…well, suffice it to say that no ‘sea-siren’ would be particularly impressed, yes?” I responded aloud, flashing him a wry smile, and he chuckled even as he met the eyes of a svelte Midlander girl and arched a brow. She immediately started making her way over towards him with an eager stride, and I got to my feet somewhat unsteadily with a chuckle. “Enjoy yourself, friend, I’ve a mind to find a meal and hope it will stay put.”

He gifted me with a distracted farewell as his hands started to work on his belt, even as the Midlander hitched up her skirt to show off a distinct lack of a loincloth, leaving her neatly trimmed and glistening sex free for viewing. I took a moment to enjoy the sight before starting forward again, lips quirking slightly at the twinned sighs of satisfaction that resounded behind me as she settled into his lap.

Leaving them to it, I plotted a course straight to a crimson clad form before settling myself into the seat beside him. I couldn’t, nor did I try very hard to, quite manage to restrain a small smile as I greeted the blond-bearded tradesman who was regarding me with a surprised but warm air of welcome. I couldn’t remember which of the triplets he was (Brennan, perhaps), but any player in the game would recognize him and his brothers all the same.

“Hey now, welcome back to the land of the woken!” he greeted, giving me a nod and a casual wave of his right hand as he got more comfortable in his newly-claimed seat. “You’ve been asleep for a while yet, seemed to be a bit feverish actually, but one of the lasses who is,” he praised, looking around the room for a moment, before shrugging with a brief moment of wry amusement. “Somewhere around here knew a thing or two about healing. Said you were fine and that it was naught but a bit of seasickness, what with how choppy things are starting to get out there. What can I do for you?”

“You seem a well-traveled fellow, aye, and one that’s been to my homeland and to Eorzea both. I know little and less of the world outside the Azem Steppes and Othard, but even we of the Xaela know that tradespeople are the best source of knowledge on many, many things. So, in preparation for my arrival to the homelands of my parents, I thought it would be wise to ask such a man what knowledge he might have to offer.” I responded, meaning every word. Offering my hand, I introduced myself, ‘my’ new memories offering themselves smoothly. “Altanbataar of the Dotharl Tribe of the Azim Steppes, though the elders tell me that my birth parents had another name for me. Atreus, I believe is the way that you would pronounce it in Eorzean.”

“Atreus, hmm? Doesn’t sound Gridanian to me, nor Limsan or Ul’dahn. Was one of your parents from Sharleyan, perhaps?” he mused thoughtfully, and I raised my eyebrows slightly in surprise at how quickly he had guessed. Seeing the gesture, he grinned at me. “Brennan Bronnson, at your service. Merchant, tradesman, and traveler extraordinaire! As you said, my young friend, I’m a well-traveled fellow. My brothers and I have been too damn near every part of this planet at some point in our lives, and gotten more than a little familiar with the peoples that inhabit it. More than enough to know that one of your parents was a Sharleyan, and even more obviously that the other was a Gridanian.”

“Right and right again. My father was a sage of some kind from Sharleyan, and my mother was from Gridania, but how did you know? Surely, even if my name alone could tell you one, it couldn’t tell you the other.” I responded with a feigned curiosity, knowing perfectly well what had proven to be all the ‘hint’ he required.

The two elegant, regal horns of pure ivory growing from just behind my ears that marked me as a Padjal. A hyur chosen by the Elementals to act as their intermediaries in the mortal world, found only in the lands of the Black Shroud. It was only the ‘normalcy’ of the knowledge and the lifetime of memories that I held that kept me from freaking out quite noticeably when that information presented itself. Fortunately, it seemed that ‘my’ new memories held dominance over my old ones, at least when it came to emotional reactions, and at least in this circumstance.

“Well, I suppose if you grew up in the Steppes someone having horns might not seem too strange to you, but surely you noticed yours were a bit different than everyone around you, hmm? See, horns like yours mean you’re what is called a ‘Padjal’. They’re only found in Gridania and the forest it’s in, The Black Shroud. They’re…very rare. Only about a half-dozen of them alive now, I believe, and there can’t have been more than thirty in the last several centuries.” He explained, scratching briefly at his beard before waving over a serving girl, one whose top was askew and moved with a slight hitch in her step. I didn’t even try to hide it as I examined her appreciatively, even while Brennan ordered the pair of us the night’s special and some ale, finding that the tousled hair, swollen lips, and visible bruising of her ‘freshly-fucked’ glow made her look more striking that she might have been otherwise. Once she had departed to pass the order along, he continued. “You’ll want to be careful in the Shroud. Your kind are damn near messianic to that lot, and Padjal…aren’t often seen outside Gridania, never mind the forest as a whole. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to be born so far from your parents’ homeland?”

“Well, you were right about my parents being researchers, of course. They were studying the Steppes and its people as a whole, and the Dotharl tribe in particular. More specifically, they wanted to study the Dotharli belief that souls reincarnate, and can be recognized as such.” I explained factually, though I wondered if (knowing what I did about the Ancient World and the Aetherial Sea) they, perhaps, had been involved in the Ragnarok project and the Atiascope. Next time I saw Venat, I would ask her, I think. “They died when I was little more than a babe in arm, during a Garlean raid on the Steppes. According to Sadu, my childhood friend and our future khatun, they had been in charge of safeguarding the children and the injured while the rest of the tribe fought back the invaders. A duty that they performed until the very end, and on seeing their deaths my…you called it Padjali? My Padjali nature awakened quite wrathfully at the sight. The Garleans within my sight died rather painfully as aether tore them apart, and the Dotharli, both impressed by said wrath and grateful to my parents, adopted me on the spot. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“A hell of a story, my friend, and I’m sorry to hear about your parents.” Brennan said heavily, patting my shoulder in commiseration, before continuing in a determinedly lighter way. “Still, they died protecting the helpless, a good death if ever there was one, and it was a damn fine thing to do for the Tribe to adopt you. So, what caused you to leave the Steppes, then? Wanted to learn more about your kinfolk and their homelands?”

“That, aye, but for adventure as well! The Steppes are neither safe nor boring by nature, nor even what you might consider small in scope, but I desire more from my life than remaining there hunting the same beasts and fighting the same fights.” I responded, and he hummed with a nod of understanding, looking thoughtful.

“Well, you’re certainly heading to the right place if it is adventure you seek, my friend! If it had been wealth and glory, earned by fighting before a cheering and bloodthirsty crowd, that you sought, I would have told you that you had boarded the wrong ship. Thanalan’s Ul’dah and her Bloodsands would have been a better pick were that the case. But if it is adventure, women, and good ale that you seek, the City of Pirates will offer you all that you can handle and have still more for you besides.” He chuckled, and I didn’t try to stop an answering chuckle from following it.

While it was certainly true that gaining fame and popularity, not to mention money, as a gladiator in the Bloodsands would have been a good start to this new life of mine and made plenty of sense for a Dotharl, it might not have ended well for me. A significant portion of a Rejoined Azem or not, a lifetime of experience fighting on the Steppes or not, the gladiators of Ul’dah were specifically trained experts whose entire lives revolved around fighting and beating other professional fighters in one-on-one combat. Not something to deal with lightly.

Besides, while I had every intention of getting to Ul’dah and meeting Nanamo at the Sultantree to build that professional relationship as quickly as possible, I had to admit that I had a far greater fondness for La Noscea than I did Thanalan. Not least of which was because Limsa Lominsa came with Y’shtola, compared to Ul’dah’s Thancred. If I had to pick which Scion of the two to meet and befriend first, Queen Sass-Catte was going to win without much of a fight.

The serving girl returned then, carrying with her a sizeable platter laden with food and drink, and Brennan clapped my shoulder cheerfully as she started to lay it out across the table.

             “Come, my friend, let us eat and drink and put such things aside! Let us speak as friends do, and share tales of the women of our homeland!” he encouraged grandly once she had left once more, leaving a steaming plate of meat, vegetables, and grains that smelled truly spectacular, with a mug of ale that was closer to a small pitcher in size, in front of each of us. That made sense, I reasoned. Aether probably helped dilute poisons like alcohol quite nicely, even if any booze here in Eorzea was probably stronger than back home, thanks to being made with that self-same aether. Besides, what better way to deal with long, sickness-inducing nautical voyages than being as drunk as possible as often as possible?

He told me all about his wife, and three or four lovers he had across another handful of settlements, waxing lyrical about their differing attractions, assets, and natures. The fact that he spent the most time elaborating upon and extolling the apparently-extensive virtues of his wife, a Roegadyn women he proudly proclaimed could crush his head like a watermelon between her thighs, was actually somewhat reassuring. I approved of polygamy and polyamory, not disloyalty.

That being said, getting reincarnated into this world didn’t change my lack of attraction to that particular race, and as happy as I was that the two of them were deeply in love, I really didn’t see the appeal. When it came to abnormally tall women, I very much had preferences that lay in a different direction. The kind of direction that involved long and luxurious legs combined with rabbit ears.

Still, I genuinely appreciated the gestures of companionship for what they were, and happily told him of Steppes women. Of sweet, gentle, quiet Cirina of the Laughing Reeds, next head of the Mol Tribe, who despite her kind nature could put an arrow through your eye at a thousand fulms. Of Sadu Heavensflame, who is brash, brave, and addicted to the thrill of battle, where she thrived as a thaumaturge of prodigious power. I added that I desired both and intended to court them, but the ways of my people required that I first prove myself above the proverbial herd before they would ever consider me, Sadu especially. The fact that we had grown up together was a boon, certainly, even a powerful one, but Sadu was Sadu. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t have her be any other way.

“Well, my friend, it has been a fine meal with finer company, but my bunk calls me quite insistently. I recommend you get some rest as well, if you want to be awake and rested to see Sharleyan when we make port there.” Brennan finally said, nearly an hour of conversation and ale-drinking later, rolling his neck on his shoulders as he clambered slowly to his feet.

“I don’t expect I’ll have much time in my father’s homeland, at least not on this trip, but how long will we be in port there?” I asked, eager to see Sharleyan in person, but considerably more interested in getting to Eorzea and starting my story.

“Not long at all. Enough time for you to visit the harborside markets, perhaps, but we’re only stopping there for water and to pick up some passengers. A couple of hours, at most. From what my friends in the crew have told me, we wouldn’t even be stopping there at all if it wasn’t for those that were boarding.” He sighed, shaking his head, before shrugging demonstrably. “Still, short a visit it might this time be, I should imagine you would at least like to lay eyes on some small part of your paternal heritage.”

“Your are quite right in that, my friend, and I’ll take your advice and seek out my own bunk. Sleep well, and I shall see you on the morrow.” I agreed, getting to my own feet and trying to remember just how to reach my room. Unfortunately for me, ‘I’ had spent virtually the entire journey in my room, and between the lack of familiarity with the galleon’s interior and my intoxication, my memory seemed woefully inadequate. Sighing in bemused aggravation, I found the nearest crew-member, a lovely miqo’te girl, one who eyed me with interest as I loomed over her to drawl with the sort of eloquence that seemed to become ever-more-prominent whenever I got drunk. “Forgive me, but I’m afraid I can’t quite remember the way to my room. If you would be so kind as to lend a hand, I would appreciate it greatly.”

She blushed a bit and ducked her head in what seemed to be a strangely shy nod, before turning and starting to walk away, beckoning for me to follow with a waved hand over her shoulder. I followed a bit numbly, brain foggy with exhaustion as mental as it was physical (not to mention a fair bit of alcohol, and felt rather proud of myself for resisting the urge to give an entirely unsubtle and lecherous whistle at her swaying rear end as it made it’s way down the corridors in front of me.

God damn, I couldn’t wait to get laid. All I needed to do was find myself a good partner.

“Here you are, sir. Is there anything else I can do to help you tonight? I’m more than happy to service any need you might have, anything at all~!” she chirped cheerfully, gesturing to my cabin door with bright eyes and a swaying tail.

“Ah, no thank you, good miss! Ahh, your captain must be proud to have such a dutiful crew-woman!” I denied, proud of my self-sufficiency, as I went to pat her on the shoulder, though I missed rather badly and ended up stroking her head instead. Planting my other hand on the door jam, I fumbled with it for several long moments before giving a not-so-soft exclamation of satisfaction when I finally defeated its uncaring face and the door swung open. “Sleep well, good miss!”

She mumbled something as I left, something about disappointment and wasting a decent line as I shuffled across the threshold and closed the door behind me, removing the most uncomfortable pieces of my armor before slumping into bed and passing out.

Some hours later, as I stood with bleary eyes and relieved my over-full bladder into the small tube-port in the deepest corner of my cabin, a thought occurred to my somewhat-more-sober brain.

“Ah, fuck me, she wanted to sleep with me didn’t she?” I groaned, palming my face with my unoccupied hand in abject disappointment. Way to go, me, you accidentally invited a cute catgirl to have sex with you, she was into it, and then you gave her accidental headpats before passing out drunk in bed.

Clearly, my heroic high-fantasy and sexually-charged adventure was off to a good start.

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Since the name isn’t a pun anymore (Steel->Steal), I opted to change the MCs name. Altanbataar would translate to either ‘golden hero’ or ‘red dawn hero’, depending on if you go with the pure Mongolian or the Turkic. Either way, I thought it appropriate for a reborn Azem. Atreus, likewise, is a famous hero from Greek mythology, the father of Agamemnon and Menelaus. He may also be known from Hittite records, interestingly enough, though there is some debate on that matter. And, naturally, the Atreides of Dune are said to be his descendants.

I almost had this be a Gridania start instead, with the MC waking up in a cart a la Skyrim, captured alongside others by the Ixal to be a sacrifice, but opted not to. I really liked the interactions the MC had in Steel Hero, and want to preserve that opening here, if modified.