WoV, Book 1, chapter 10: Shopping trip!

“Vaguely? I have heard the term in passing a couple of times, but that’s it.” The lizard woman replied with a helpless shrug.

“Prepare to hear it more often than not then,” Kofle quipped, staring into her glass of probably-whiskey. Definitely had the right look and serving style, “The realm owes its survival to them.”

“Aye. Kofle has the right of it here. They’re a… complicated topic. We all know their deeds, we’ve even records of them. But–” The older woman stopped, trying to find her words, but coming up short.

“They were burned out the world,” Came a voice from behind. Turning Muur could see a fully armored man, his heavy plate concealing every bit of him as he crossed his arms, “And no. I don’t mean that in any fanciful way. It’s bloody literal,” Pulling out a paper from a pouch, he gave it to Momodi, “‘Pologies for interrupting, but one caravan arrived in town safely and whole,” The lalafel glared at him a little, until he pulled out a leather bound journal, “Here. Have a look.”

Flipping through the pages, he placed it on the counter, “Been an adventurer since the guild started, and kept records of my work. Just like Old Lodewic taught me, I was lucky enough to work with the Warriors. So, into the book they went and now look at it,” The paper was old, the ink faded, but otherwise it was completely pristine. If you ignored the seemingly random black blotches that covered the pages. Each was like someone had taken a burning coal to whatever had been written down, burning all traces of the words and leaving only blacken ash and soot that Muur kept finding her attention slipping off of, “And what’s in here,” he tapped at the side of his head, “isn’t much better. We call them Warriors of Light, because that’s what we see them as. Cutouts in the shape of a man, letting in burnin’, blindin’ light that washes away every feature that they had.”

“No one’s quite sure why’s that. Some will tell you that it’s so they can be our guiding star into the future. A shining example of what to be… Personally?” He spit the next few words, “I think Bahamut didn’t have the fucking decency to let us honour the heroes that slayed him.”

“Sounds about spiteful enough.” Muur agreed easily after a quick tap on her fabricated memories. Apparently Mr Bad Dragon had glassed a fair chunk of Eorzea.

“Aye, point is,” He motioned to a group of four people. A large, well armored man making grand motions towards an almost wilting looking girl wearing a large witch’s and robes, both white. Leaning against the table, an archer looked at him almost sultrily, her fingers tracing circles around the rim of her mug of ale, “Newer adventurers like these lots don’t see it as a job. They fancy it as a means to ‘honor’ the Warriors, of upholding their legacy… A whole lot of chocobo dung. Half of them think that glory and fame’ll come to them just for taking up weapons and playing at heroes.”

“Hey, ‘s long as they get the job done right, who gives a toss?” The lizard woman said with an easy shrug, before a grimace pulled at the side of her face. “Although I know how… effusive idealists get sometimes, so I get it.”

“And here’s yer payment,” Momodi said, a touch too sweetly as she put down a bag of gold, “Is there anythin’ else I can do for ye?”

With a scoff, the man grabbed the hefty pouch of gil, “A warm meal, a cold drink and someplace to drink it without havin’ to see this sorry lot.” Picking up his book, he left with not so much as a single goodbye.

“Well, someone’s had a day.” Muur snorted, a plume of smoke flaring from her nose with the sound. It was nice being able to breathe easy about her aether. “Anyways, where were we?”

“Don’t mind him much. He’s part of the first members of the Guild, to him adventuring will never be more than being a sellswords,” Momodi said with a shrug, “And he’s not entirely wrong either. Plenty of people joined after the Warrior’s disappearance. A fair few with nothing but starry eyes and highborn ideals, not all of them took the job– and it is a job, make no mistake, seriously and paid for it. But even so, the realm would’ve never have recovered so fast if not for the glut of adventurers. Lodewicus died with the calamity, but I reckon he’d be happy with how things have turned out.”

“If they fuck around, they better be able to deal with finding out.” The mage grunted in agreement, “Thankfully, people have a way to shape up more often than not.”

“I suppose they do, yeah,” Kofle eventually said, sadness tinging her voice, “Question is if their new shape’s a good one or not…”

“That’s somethin’ only the gods can know, I’m afraid,” Momodi sighed, her good cheer flaking away to give a glimpse of just how world-weary the woman really was. How many people had she seen come in with bright eyes, only to never return, or do so a broken shell? “In any case, that concludes my recountin’ of our guild’s history. I could waste plenty more time talkin’ about this and that. But I wager you’ll be wanting to register now?”

“Aye, got some errands I want to get out of the way before sundown.” Muur replied with a bob of her head, all too happy to push to the side the depressing direction the chat had been taking.

“Right then, it’s not a particularly long process,” The inn’s owner said as she pulled two papers… that Kofle immediately did a double take at, “Especially in your case! As part of the Ossuary, most of the stipulations and rules are already taken care of on their side. So all you’ve to do is read these, sign at the bottom and then sign your name in the guild’s ledger.”

“The wonders of communication across organizations.” Muur chuckled as she got to work.

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“Alright,” Muur’s catfriend grumbled, finally done with glaring a hole in the lizard for the temerity of not suffering the woes of paperwork as she had, “Now that we’re done here, you were wanting to come along while I bought a few things, right?”

“Yep. Want a new staff and some chainmail, plus some clothes since everything I brought with me sans the boots are just about worn to rags.” The lizard wizard said with a bob of her head as they left the inn.

“We should be able to find all of that for relatively cheap. As a mage, you’re lucky that most of the armor for sale around here doesn't look horribly out of place as regular clothes. First though,” The cat took the lizard to the aetheryte shard next to the Quicksands, “You’d better attune yourself to this shard, and all of the other shards we’ll come across. There’s around two dozen of them in the whole city, so we won't be hunting them down, but we’ll pass by a few as we shop.”

Well, here was hoping doing it herself wouldn’t feel like her soul was being treated to Chinese foot binding.

Reaching out with her aether, Muur felt it buck and struggle against her control as the fabricated memories said it always did when trying to weave it into complex shapes. Without Cocobezi’s help, it was a challenge to mold it into what she needed. She could tell it wasn’t clean, or anywhere near perfect. But it was good enough, and sometimes that’s all that mattered as the shard’s aether reached back towards her.

All told, the whole affair only took ten seconds, and for all it wasn’t exactly pleasant? It blew both what she’d dealt with at the Ossuary, nevermind what her implanted memories said, straight out of the water.

“And that’s that. So, anywhere around here that does heavy duty staves? Having a frontliner is nice and all, but I’d rather have something able to crack skulls in my hands if push comes to shove.” The lizard woman asked as she stepped away from the magic crystal.

“Maybe? It shouldn’t be too difficult to find.” Kofle said with a shrug.

It was, in fact, difficult to find, “What about this one?” her companion asked as she pointed at a large wooden crook.

“That’s softwood, will snap like a twig the moment it takes a hit.” Muur replied with a shake of her head the moment she grabbed it. The weight and texture said it all.

“Alright, guess we’ll be looking for a different seller then…”

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“This one?”

“Balance’s all over the place.”

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“One of these maybe?”

“...We’ll come back to these ‘bold designs’ if there’s nothing else.”

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“These?!”

“They’re hollow. I’m not sure if they’ll even work as foci.”

“...We’re reporting hi– and he’s gone.”

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“Okay, this isn’t working,” Rubbing at her face, Kofle took a seat on one of the benches that lined the streets, “What you want is just too specific. I don’t think we’ll be able to find anything like them for sale at a reasonable price.”

“I mean, those hideous ones two sellers ago would work. I’d need to find someone to strip off that sorry excuse for ornamentation, though.” Muur offered weakly. 

“That would cost more than having one made from scratch, which I was kind of hoping wouldn’t be something we’d need. Because it’s gonna cut into your budget really hard, but at this stage? If you don’t want to compromise on the staff, but you’re fine with not buying as much stuff, I…” Kofle hesitated, tongue darting out to lick her lips, “Might know a place?”

“I was already lowballing my purchases big time. Staff is the biggest priority, chainmail after that, then it’s just whatever thrift store clothes I can scrounge up.” The lizard woman chuckled, shaking her head softly, “Come on, let’s give it a shot. Worst comes to worst, I just wrap up one of those ugly staves in a burlap bag like they deserve to.”

“Alright. Fair warning, I haven’t seen them for five years. I don’t think they would have closed down, but with the calamity… Just, don’t get your hopes up too high?” Climbing to her feet, Kofle then proceeded to guide Muur through a dizzying maze of alleyways and sidestreets that seemed to loop in on itself more than once.

It took them through rich neighborhoods, just as it took them through the poorer parts of the city. Until finally they arrived in front of a heavy, but unremarkable, wooden door, “Here we are, this used to be the place. Hopefully it still is,” Lifting her hand, Kofle softly knocked at the door.

Nothing seemed to happen, prompting another set of knocks. Slightly more forceful this time.

Just as it seemed that Kofle would need to knock harder still, both adventurers heard footsteps coming their way from inside of the building, “What do you want?” Asked a pair of hazel eyes when a view port slid open.

“We’re here to commission a staff.” Muur said, making sure her sorry excuse for a magic focus was in plain view.

“Where did you even hear that this was a service we offered.” The person at the door asked suspiciously.

“From me,” Kofle said, “I ordered one for a friend–” “Right, I’m sure you did. Goodbye.” And just like that the slide was closed.

The cat sighed, “That’s… about what I expected. One sec.” Putting her bag down, she rummaged through it before pulling out a twisted something wrapped in a bundle of singed midnight black cloth. Carefully, Kofle pulled the bundle apart just enough to extract a sort of tube from it.

Whatever it was, it had seen much better days. Muur’s friend's face was carefully blank, drained of emotions as she looked down at a twisted amalgam of wood and metal. A sort of metallic tube with splintered, broken wood poking out at both ends, at one point it had definitely been part of something greater.

Given the circumstances, Muur would bet good money it was a magic focus. Had Kofle been a mage before this?

Sighing, the cat knocked on the door again, “Look, we keep records of every client and you’re–” The slit opened again to allow the person behind to glare at the adventurers. Only for Muur to shove the piece in their face.

“I ordered it before the fall,” She said with her own glare, “and if you don’t believe me. Look at the artisan’s stamp there!”

Whoever was beyond the door stayed quiet for a long while, “It looks authentic,” They eventually agreed, “But we will run a test to ensure it is,” A delivery slot opened in the door, “And if we discover that you’ve lied. I can assure you that very few people will ever do business with you.”

“Fine by me,” Kofle said with a shrug, dropping the staff’s fragment, “I wouldn’t want to do business with myself anyway…”

She sighed as the box was closed and the person left, “Don’t… don’t ask about any of this, please?” She eventually asked– or rather pleaded to Muur, as she leaned against a wall, her eyes closed.

“You aren’t the only one with a messy past you don’t want to explain. Just return the favor with all the weird shit I do and say, aye?” Muur grunted as she leaned right next to her, scaly tail giving the cat’s waist a reassuring squeeze. “God knows that having footslogged here from the other side of the world only covers for so many sins.”

“Sure, I can do that,” She agreed, “From the other side of the world, huh… Hey, can you tell me more of the place you’re from? I’ve always wanted to travel. Sometimes it feels like I was born with a need to keep moving and exploring. And also help people, but with Eorzea the way it is…”

“Would’ve felt like leaving your place with the stove five seconds away from turning the whole thing to a tidy haul of charcoal.” The lizard woman finished with a smoke-laden chuckle, shaking her head softly even as she drew up on the fabricated memories, “Sure, I can tell you about the Azim Steppes, although don’t take any of it as gospel. Even if I hadn’t gotten my braincase swirled around like a cocktail, I skedaddled pretty young.”

“Now that I’m back after five years, yeah it’s something like that. But when I was younger and just started adventuring, it was more a case of almost every method for leaving being unavailable for someone as broke as I was,” She said with a shrug, “Now, let me think of a question… Hmmm, how’s the religion over there? Eorzea’s pretty religious, if you haven’t noticed. We don’t have a single city that’s not dedicated to one of the Twelves.”

“Well, you got the white-scaled Au’Ra, the Raen, with their Dawn Father. Then you got us Xaela Au’Ra, with the Dusk Mother. I could spin you a whole tale, but it boils down to them calling our goddess a bloodthirsty hardass and us calling their god a fuckin’ pansy pastel princess like them.” Muur said with a wry laugh, cradling her head on her interlaced fingers. “Which they sure aren’t beating the allegations of by hiding in their wee lil mountain pass enclaves away from the free for all that are the steppes proper. Bit of a pity, honestly, they’re cute enough if you ask me.”

“‘Dusk Mother’ and ‘Dawn Father’? Sounds like the godly ancestry where you live’s a lot less of a headache than ours,” Kofle said with a slight smile, “I honestly couldn’t tell you who’s married to who, or sired who… I’m also pretty sure that some of our gods just sort of showed up and they all shrugged.”

“Proper names are Nhaama and Azim respectively, there’s Nhaama desert but I dunno if anyone actually lives there rather than just pilgrimages to the Dusk Throne.” Muur rambled on happily, borrowing the implanted memories but otherwise simply… letting go of all the charades. Just vibing with a friend, “As for your gods, any of ‘em spring from a literal head-splitting headache? Athena got banged out of Zeus’ brow by Hephaestus in greek tradition. Ol’ Thunderhead had absorbed the essence of another goddess and it had some unfortunate side-effects.”

“I… don’t think any of them are born like that? I’m pretty sure that Oschon, the… sibling? I think? Of the Twins just sort of… made them out of fire and rocks?” The cat frowned deeply, “I just realized that the ones I’m the most familiar with are the sun and moon Azeones too. Huh… It’s super weird though, it’s our Sun Goddess that’s called Azeyma. Wonder how that happened, considering the whole Dusk Mother thing.”

“I think I heard something about Dalamud being under Menphina’s control, which is kinda funny because Xaela believe that’s Nhaama’s turf. Everyone in the steppes must’ve just about shat out their hearts when they saw it poof five years ago.” Muur hummed and wasn’t that timing suspicious given Kofle’s own timeline. Still, she wasn’t about to pry into any crazy unbelievable bullshit her friend may have hiding under the rug, not when she could never whisper a single word of what truly happened to her and it’d still be too soon.

“It was considered Menphina’s loyal hound. Basically her big dog, with it being called down and Bahamut coming out… Well, you can imagine people’s opinions of it now.” She told the lizard.

Their little talk was interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking, “The maker wishes to see you,” They simply said, before waving them inside, “And they are not keen to be made to wait.”