("Small Mercies", Beq Lugg's Tales from the Shadows backstory, shows the tank role quest story from another angle, and why our nu mou buddy hid themselves away for so long, and the backstory for this particular mob as well).
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Anne-Sophie and Oberic stood on the shores of the lake that had buried a city; his city, Voeburt, gone from bustling metropolis to moss-covered sunken ruins while he spent a hundred years spelled into stone on its outskirts.
The midlander spoke after a long moment of silence. “When I read about this place, the wings on the castle were sketched differently. Smaller; still growing. The Hingan mystic who penned the tome that ultimately led me here, led us to be having this conversation; he swore that one could climb the castle, make a wish on those wings, and it would come true. If that is a sound theory—which I have some doubts about—would you do it, Oberic? And, if so, what would you wish for?”
Oberic chewed at his lip in thought. He followed her gaze, though he frowned as an errant bout of fog rolled in. His eyes instead turned to the water that had drowned the village beneath the castle. “There’re so many things I could ask for in that situation.” he said openly and quite honestly. His arms folded across his chest as he thought. “…to go somewhere that I’m needed. A new home that has need of an old Knight.”
The knight-scholar watched the gleaming wings as they were subsumed by fog. “You wouldn’t ask for all of it to be undone, then? All to be returned as you remembered it?”
Oberic hesitated at the question, furrowing his brow before responding. “Voeburt had fallen before the Flood. That was simply the knife that cut her throat.” He ran his left hand over his hair to smooth it down. “And if I were to undo all of that, where would that leave you, after all? If I were not encased in stone? Would you go looking for another Knight? Would there even BE another?”
Anne-Sophie turned a curious little grin to him. “The nature of wishes is truly one of the last great mysteries, I should think. There are no magickal disciplines that deal with such capricious fates; no way of knowing if your wish upon those wings would simply restore your lost kingdom while leaving everything else intact.” She paused a moment, running the possibilities through the sieve of her mind, arriving at a few possible conclusions dense enough to withstand its scrutiny. “Theorem the first! You do not climb the castle. Nothing changes. Theorem the second; you climb it, and everything changes. I am awoken back in Ishgard; or, more likely, reduced to a dream in this world, much like…hmm. That is…never mind. Theorem the third; we consider this a thought exercise, and you do not actually wish to climb the castle.”
The knight of the ruined kingdom listened as she spoke, rolling his neck. As she finished the end of her haphazard presentation, he raised an eyebrow. “And if that were the case. The wish was true, and I chose to climb the castle, would you want me to?” He closed some of the distance between them as he spoke. “…would you want to climb the castle yourself? Presuming the same rules would apply? What would you wish for?” he asked before looking over his shoulder to the Shelves. “And what if the wish granter was a malicious entity? Would it be worth the risk? There are stories where such things exist, you know.”
Anne-Sophie tilted her head, then began restlessly pacing while postulating, as was her wont; he’d gotten her started. “Even with my aetherically-augmented strength, I doubt I would be able to reach some of the finials, nor could I guarantee my step would be sound on the corbels. Even assuming that I reached those wings—which are quite material, as you can see by their shadows moving across the lake—I am uncertain if I would have the wherewithal to make my wish upon setting a hand upon them. What is their nature? Am I aetherically shocked by them, tossed like a ragdoll into the lake below, landing at terminal velocity? Do I enter the castle’s confines by interacting with a very visible form of its magicks, wherein I encounter this hypothetical malicious entity? One merely cannot say, Oberic.” She finally paused to breathe, fussing with her embroidered sleeve cuffs. “Though…truth be told, I have spent much of my life forming a wish, if one could call it that, though it was actually a ritual of exacting specifications, and if it failed, I would have…well. My ‘wish’, if we are reducing it to that? Was to come here. And you said earlier, that I was perhaps not meant to find you…but I am telling you, I saw other worlds, and none of them had you, or any facsimile thereof.” Turning her eyes to his, she jabbed at his chest with her index finger for emphasis. “My. Wish. Came. True. I came to this beautiful, sleeping, dreaming kingdom, and I awoke a dreamer within it. Thus, it is no longer a wish, but a rite manifested.“
Her scholar’s fury left her all at once, her fingertip still resting on his exposed chest, and she faltered, drawing her hand back as if she’d touched live coals. “Ah—that is—that is to say. I am glad I met you. And…no, I would not wish to go back, nor to change anything along the way.” The pair of them watched the fog melt from the beauty of Il Mheg, revealing the castle, the mountains, the rivers in all their splendor. “I should think that is clear by now,” she murmured; she was here as long as she was welcome to be.
((Big hugs to @knight-in-voeburt ; all of Oberic’s dialogue and actions are his from tonight’s RP, which just happened to align perfectly with the prompt!))
Every now and then I try and draw a location from the game for practise in an hour or so (never quite exact), and I generally try to do it without references or opening my game to look, partly cos it’s meant to be for fun and for practise, but also to see how well i can still depict the area even if its not 100% exact.
Here’s one from each expac so far that I’ve done, I mainly post them to twitter but I might do another collect post here if i do more later.
Central Shroud, Tam tara area (Surprisingly few pictures of this upper area so no references even if i wanted them without logging in x-x also posted today so more recent compared to the others)
The Dreaming Dragon (the first one drawn so a bit sloppier)
Royal Menagerie (Mainly a focus on the flowers cos what is perspective and brickwork)
Voeburt Ruins, Il Mheg
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“Remain steadfast with conviction, that the King may love thee.”
“Speak truth, even upon the penalty of death.”
“Safeguard the weak and woe betide the wicked; that is your oath.”
“Rise now, a Knight and Protector of Voeburt.”
Upon the command the cadre of individuals rose from a kneeling position, among them were seven Galdjent, five Drahn and a single Hume, complexion dark and tanned, shoulders broad and face clean shaven with a prominent square jaw. Sapphire eyes shining in the robust colors that danced across the room from the tall stained glass windows, each of them depicting a scene of gallantry and martial prowess in some form or another.
The Hume, hair pulled back and tied with the sides shaved close allows a small, nearly undetectable smile to touch the corners of his mouth. The moment it seems does not go unnoticed as the King, a massive Drahn with ivory scales adorning sharp, angular features speaks.
“Are you proud of yourself, Ser Oberic?” he asks, the question directed towards the single Hume in the line of thirteen, an eyebrow cocking as if to make this particular individual question the one, single hint of pride that has graced his features as he remains seated at his throne, one long leg bent over the other.
“Yes, Sire...” Oberic says, pausing for a moment in hesitation. “...n-no...Sire?”
The shuffle of feet and the heavy atmosphere begins to settle on the newly Sworn Knights of Voeburt as they fight the urge to look down the line to the last in their number, each pair of eyes affording a glance out of their right corner to the increasingly growing nervous Hume.
The Drahn remains seated upon his throne even as his head cocks slightly to the side, his gaze growing ever more intense at the young Knight before him. A single finger begins tapping at the arm of his throne as if to say “Well?”.
“Speak truth, even upon the penalty of death.” the young Knight, now identified as Oberic recites quietly to himself, even though the words had just reached his ears. “Yes, Sire. Proud I am. Proud of what I have accomplished, of what I have strived and fought for. At times for my comrades, and at times to prove them false.” the young man says as he returns to a kneeling position.
“And proud to have done so, so that I may protect my Liege and my Kingdom, as it is my home and my heart resides within.” he states not in defiance but with the conviction of which he has been charged to hold to. The others remain silent for a moment, waiting for a reaction from the King, as if to take their cue. As he begins to applaud, the others follow suit, some even going so far as to cheer openly the words of their comrade.
“My conviction and my blade is yours to command, Sire.” Oberic says over the din of the crowd as he pulls the cobalt colored zweihander from its harness and offers it to him, the blade resting across the outstretched hands of the kneeling Knight. “...so say we all!” he adds, leading to the others to follow suit without hesitation and following his example, offer their weapons in an identical gesture.
“So say we all...” the words echoing from the lips of the slumbering Knight, his head now resting on a sack of grain as a makeshift pillow.
Raised: Villiage of Eastridge in Abalathia’s Spine
History: She’s a shepards daughter born in Wolekdorf in Voeburt on the First. She ended up being dragged to the Source at thirteen by one of the Exarch’s early attempts at calling the Warrior of Light. (little did he know she was the one he was attempting to call) and dropped in the village of Eastridge in Abalathia’s Spine.
After too many times of being told that her home didn’t exist and getting in constant fights that her adoptive Grandmother Whispering Willow kept getting in trouble for she began to just be silent and tend the flock avoiding speaking with anyone. Once the Calamity came she did everything she could to help the village survive. Five years later when Willow passed she made the decision to become and adventurer and attempt to find answers about how she ended up here so far from home.
Personality: An extremely gentle soul Rose is as kind as they come. Reluctant to get close to others due to all that she had endured coming to the Source it is very hard to get more than a handful of words from her if she is not familiar with you. She has a fiery temper and is not shy about throwing blows over it especially if accused of lying or being told she has made something up. Inspite of that or because of it she will help anyone who needs a hand.