#astral agents

I joined the Astral Agents @astraladvent in 2015 wanting to RP. I was totally new to RP and hit the ground running. After years of many plotlines, story arcs and character development I’ve come to one understanding... Berrod @berrodtherapscallion has always been there for me, as a fair FC leader, a great RP mentor and cool gaming buddy. I’ve always felt welcome, at home and have met so many people thanks to our FC. It’s made my FFXIV gaming experience all that much better through the years. I’ve always got a safe place I can turn to when I need a break from IRL. Thanks for putting up with my Time Magick plot-hole-hand-wavy-body-age-swapping RP all these years, you’re the best Berrod @berrodarmstrong ! 🤙🏽✨

Some debts you could never repay.

((Constructed and deployed our first sub, thanks to our members who helped out!))

The hunt for Oenoa continued in the Peaks. 

"I don't hold with it, these foreign parts." "You've been to Limsa Lominsa and Ul'dah and even Idyllshire. That's foreign!" "That's not foreign parts. That's just--a long way off, that's not foreign. Foreign parts are where they gabble at you in strange lingo and eat foreign muck and worship--you know. Objects," said Gannet Fenstanton, good-will diplomat. "Foreign parts can be quite close too if you're not careful." The witches all looked at the red-haired man, who was self-assuredly stirring the cauldron. Gannet had been in a bleaker mood than usual ever since he'd gotten back from helping those Agents with that last job, the one where they went to help some man named Gideon or some such get free from having his soul taken by his old tutor. Gannet was an excellent sulker, he'd nearly turned it into a profession he could charge for; at the present, however, he was turning it all inwards which was never a good sign. Of course, they all knew why he was acting this way. He'd had to reveal he wasn't nearly as terrifying as he wished people thought he was, or rather, not in the way he wished they did. Gannet was a firm believer that respect was a dish best served with a side of fear and most everyone thought a witch consorted with the demons of the Hells and could turn a man into a toad with a word. That last part was true and while the first might be for others, no real upstanding witch with half a mind would consort with Voidsent--they simply knew Voidsent were nothing to be afraid of was all. Unfortunately for Gannet, he had been forced to admit aloud that he had no such pacts with any such beings which, naturally, left him feeling as exposed as a streaker in Ishgard--cold, humiliated and like important parts were about to fall off. "I don't think it really matters if its foreign or not," said Missus Pinte, a middled-aged wise-woman that had made her name by being the best chocobo witch in this side of the Wall. "It's just another place that has things that need doing and so someone needs to go do them." Gannet loathed her. She was simplistically practical when he didn't want to be. "And you're the only one that really has anyone what can take you over there, my lad." Brother Mars, who had been reservedly quiet during this entire discussion and coven so far finally spoke, turning his bound eyes towards (and by towards, it should be clarified as 'downwards') at Gugubu Gubu, the lalafell that acted as the sole representative of that race in their collection of witchcraft (though none of them held that against her). "Did you bring the biscuits?" "Well now, I thought I'd forgotten something! I'll lose me own head next...!" the elderly woman of a lalafell mumbled, fishing in her pockets for the biscuits she knew weren't there. "I have a toffee. It's only been in my pocket for a week or so...!" Gugubu had the habit of speaking loudly at first and then trailing off into an almost inaudible mumble by the end. "It's not like it was my turn to bring them anyroad, that's what I'm saying....It ain't like it was my turn, that's all I'm saying..." "That's alright. I was asking merely for information," Brother Mars calmly replied. Gannet's brow quirked at that--information was lethal in Brother Mars' hands. When you didn't have eyes, you had to make up for it elsewhere. "Gannet, I don't think you need to speak ill of foreign lands. I actually was going to say that I'd prefer you didn't go. It's best you remain here and keep an eye on things." "What?" The entire coven fell silent, the gossiping and rumor-mongering screeching to a halt. Everyone knew you didn't tell Gannet what he could or couldn't do. "I am saying that you will be better served to remain here instead of travelling to foreign parts. As a matter of fact, I'm forbidding you to go." There was a pregnant pause before he added, "And don't think of going to your Agent friends for help on it either. This is my final word on the matter. I'll get someone else to go for us." Everyone knew you didn't tell Gannet not to go somewhere. It was the fastest way to see to it that he did go there or did do the thing just to spite you. As it had been explained to them once by Brother Mars, it was a matter of 'psycholology' or 'Mindomancy'--that his eggo wouldn't stand for being told what he could or couldn't do. It had always worked for Brother Mars in the past and he saw no reason to stop now or any time soon. "Well. Fine then. I suppose I'll just go home and start packing." "I believe I just told you--" "Oh I heard you. And I ain't packing for foreign parts. I'm packing for--closer parts. Parts that are--you know. Not-foreign." Gannet tugged on the brim of his hat and turned, leaving the fire and the cauldron and the coven behind on their little spot on the hill in the forest and made his way back to his home. "He really does have a big eggo," Missus Pinte remarked as he disappeared from view. "I mean, he's sharp as a tack but that eggo of his..." "It's what makes him such a good witch, Missus Pinte. You need a will like that to get done the things that need to be done," Brother Mars remarked, taking up his mug and drinking a long draught of his tea from it. "It ain't like it's my turn to bring them....ain't been my turn in three moons..." mumbled Gugubu to herself, jabbing the fire with a stick, sulkily. @astralagents

Featuring @mikhasunthistle

The door was there, mocking him. It was a reminder of everything he had worked to avoid. He had never wanted to step through this particular type of door. He’d always been nervous about them, prisons. Who could possibly say why? It wasn’t as if he were a swindler of swindlers, the man who was a confidence man to fellow con-men. It wasn’t as if this was the exact type of situation he never, ever ever wanted to find himself in at any point. And yet here he was, about to walk through this door to see someone else that had managed to get themself into the same mess Tarot had more or less feared he would wind up in for the past--well, really ever since the Calamity. He sighed and murmured the bruised statement that had tumbled its way through the ages; “What would it hurt?” And then​ he was through the threshold and looking at the bound and gagged and--they really had done a number on him, hadn’t they? Or rather, hadn’t he. That was the thing, wasn’t it? Mountain wasn’t here because of anything or anyone but himself but--and this was what Tarot half-suspected ever since the nasty bit with Rysswilf--Mountain’s punishment wasn’t imposed by the law or the Company or anyone. No one but himself. Mountain was many things but Tarot had a solid and sneaking suspicion that the man was not the kind to take undue punishment. The Agents were his responsibility but Mountain also was very good at avoiding damage or blame when he wanted to avoid it. This was--it had to be--something more. Self-flageralation, he believed it was called in Ishgardian circles. As the door shut behind him, Tarot looked at the Roe in silence, doing his best to try and pick what to say exactly. What was there to say? He could always go with the tried and true ‘I told you so’ but that would be expected and a bit boring. Maybe something like, ‘I won’t take up too much of your time since I can see you’re a bit tied up at the moment’ but he felt that somehow that would come back later to haunt him. That left--ah yes, this would do nicely. “You know, in Amdapor, there’s a several constructs that are interesting. You’ve probably read about them, but they’re called kuribu which some people think are actually creatures themselves. Pretty looking, which is probably why people made statues of them that can kill a man with Cure. Anyroad, I did some digging and apparently, kuribu are sort of the opposite of Voidsent. Holy and goodly and protectors and all that.” Tarot made his way forward towards the bound and stricken Mountain as he spoke, drawing close but not too close. Respect was important in situations like this. There’s a few stories of them coming into contact with mortals to grant them a second chance--another go at things. They also swoop in sometimes at the last minute and save the hero’s life or blast the evil-doers into dust or whatever.” Honestly it was a loose translation since in most cases this was guesswork done by scholars on translations but it sounded pretty good right now. “The thing is, Blue, they’re supposed to be in touch with Hydaelyn herself--or the gods or whatever--” he repeated the ‘whatever’ to drive home that this wasn’t much to him. His tone was conversational, the sort of tone you used while speculating with a companion if there was a meaning to the universe while you were preparing to indulge in your third or fourth hit of a questionable substance. “And like I said, they come in and tell the hero that they’re all free and clear and redeemed and able to continue on with their story.” He folded his arms and looked at the ex-Director with a smile that went unseen but no doubt was felt. ‘Trust me’ said this particular smile. “So I just want you to think about that while I reminisce for a bit.” He took a seat on the floor, folding his legs up and giving the ceiling an appraising glance. He had lived for this moment--the chance to sit and tell Mountain, Big Blue, everything he thought about him. How he thought he was a worse swindler and crook than even Crooked Tarot--how he’d actually been a bit jealous that he’d managed to schnooker everyone for so long. That he, Tarot, had the high ground on this point since he, Tarot, had been honest. He told people he was tricky and yet they still trusted him. But that was because he--well, he wasn’t Mountain. Dissimilar eyes glanced up at the Roe and he considered his options. “You have to know that people would start to see a pattern, Blue. Ever since the Corporation you’ve been doing this--this awful little circle of climbing up and falling down.” He traced the circle with his finger a few times to exercise the point. “You were in charge, you have a slip-up and get knocked down, you get up again and say, for all intents and purposes, no one’s ever gonna keep you down.” He leaned forward, murmuring quietly, “But we know different. You will get knocked down again but it always happens. The Corporation, Rysswilf and now this. You can go on and on about the Company. You can rail and rant and smoulder and be smug until you’re blue in the face but I don’t think that’s all there is to this.” He felt his features soften as he sat back again, fingers idly playing with the hem of his pant legs. “You’re doing this because of you. That’s what I think. I think you--feel this is necessary for yourself. I have a few guesses why but the truth is the ‘Why’ doesn’t matter in the long run.” His voice dropped off again, quiet and almost introspective. “You did help me though. Because of you, I started to see where my train of thought was going off the rails.” Gold-tinged eye turning up, he leaned back and planted his hands on the ground behind him. “You can’t treat people like they’re anything but people. That’s what I learned from you. Also that you can’t make happiness for others. You can give them all the pieces--blankets and food and medicine. Roof over their heads. But the moment you start actually trying to make their happiness and tell them what’s good for them is when things turn bad. You stop seeing people as people that that’s...probably about as evil as it gets.” And he had been like that; he had gone those first few years so set on buying whatever he thought people wanted or needed--deciding what they required rather than letting them figure it out for themselves. How many times had he insisted on giving them something because ‘he thought it best’ instead of what was called for? How many lives had he made more difficult because of it? Tarot wasn’t sure but he was definitely sure he had picked up right quick that it was wrong when he saw how it turned out in the end. “It’s like--see I was thinking that it’s like this. How do you make sure someone really does live happy ever after when they fall in love and get married? You’d have to cut their heads off at the altar. You can’t realistically do it. So I did the math and figured that the same thing applies with the Company. I could sit there and play the books and scrap numbers and sweat coins and try to push things in the way I thought best--thankfully it never got so bad as to make people miserable. But it still was wrong.” It was as bad as not trusting people. As bad as looking at them as children or pawns and just extensions of a property. “I really, really hope we can put the Corporation behind us, Blue. The way they did things and the way they treated us--and the Company and the people in it. So! That’s why I’m here!” He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up quickly (not too quickly) and grinned that smile of his. “I’m here to play kuribu to your--well, oubliette-bound self. I’m going to put money that when you come back--if you come back after you’re out of here--that you’re going find the company a turbulent place. All kinds of questions and people wanting answers. Probably even demanding them, which is always fun. But if you need it--and I do mean it since I’m sick of the whole ‘I can do good all by myself’ attitude that most everyone in the higher echelons seems to have in this Company anymore--then my door is open. I could always use someone to work with me in piecing out the dig sites and sussing out treasure and finding things worth finding so other people don’t find them first. Not an underling, mind you. Just a partner...well, Junior Partner to start. Moggie will review your work ethic and then consider you for promotion after your initial probationary period is up.” He stretched, the tone returning to the calm and casual one he’d been using before. “You have people hereabouts that want to try and see your face, Blue. I promise that the majority of them probably will be alright with what they see if you showed them.” He held up his fingers in a weird little salute, “Mogsguard’s Honor.” @astralagents