Friday, June 29, 2007

We heard there was a Minotaur

So, to help the fair refugees of the Tavnazian safehold, we've decided to exterminate the threat and follow Nag'molada.

It's kind of weird, the way our powers become limited when we step foot into certain areas, but there's something about these sewers, the mold and the mildew and a pressing energy that weakens us to a certain point. But Cieria and I, and our usual crew suited up and dove in.

Melchaia led us true to the Minotaur, and Pavan, as an actual Paladin kept the mobs attention until the monster's gaze filled him with panic and terror and he dropped to the ground. Cieria took over, with her calm and infuriating manner, and the Minotaur never noticed Mel's scythe and my arrows draining away his life. But Cieria too became doomed, and only one thing could be done.

That thing went down flat, even if we've heard that it sometimes takes an entire alliance of adventurers to get the minotaur dead.

The six of us retreat and rest up for the journey ahead.

We needed to find a gate, locked and made of iron, and the keys are kept by the ghosts of adventurer's slain in Tavnazia. Slaying them again leaves a dark stain of blood on the armor, and no matter how one tries and tries to clean it up with deodorizing spells, it sinks into one's skin, in a taint that is both physical and spiritual. Once upon a time, I slew some in an adventuring party and obtained a tiny bronze key, that I've kept in my Mog House, so this time, we could all clean the taint from our skin and leave the fomors to live their undead lives in peace.

But before this, we'd seen a notorious taurus monster the Mahisha wandering the path between us and the Minotaur. The victory over the big bad gave us the confidence to smash his named skull in and try to claim his prize. Pavan had learned the secrets of not getting doomed by the Mahisha's gaze (looking away) and the fight went much smoother than the Minotaur's did.

Melchaia led us to the gate, and up a ladder where we caught up to Nag-molada, lazy bastard making us do all the killing, killing work and risking our hides. And we walk into a library like room, complete with hidden passages...

And our heretofore trustworthy guide takes us through the wrong door and the back of a Doom Toad guards our only way out. Melchaia drops through, without the oil to quiet his movements, and we must fight our way past the giant blob of flesh.

We survive, but we have a new problem. My old key broke in the gate, and so we have two options, kill these fomors, that we would have rather left alone for our safety, our sanity, and our mog cleaning bills, until we find one who has another bronze key, or we could find someone who get get in the less honest way...

We tried to kill the fomors, but two of them sapped our strength to the max. No way we could fight through them all, and who knows when a key would drop, so I mention another solution.

I suppose it's no secret that I used to be one of Mihgo's burglars. Not a good one, but good enough I guess. Never really had the passion for the work, but I did have the training, and since Ranger gear is so similar to the gear I used for thief, I stepped forward.

We could go back to the safehold, I said, I could get one of my associates to send me lockpicks. And that's what we chose to do. Our fighting was done mostly, though we needed to clean off the stench of the two fomors we killed. It took longer than I thought to get the lockpicks, but get them I did, and we headed back to the gate. Though my skills were rusty, the lock was even rustier, and broke apart easily.

Back to following Nag'molada, we found the right passage this time, and found ourselves in a corridor filled with oil lamps. Melchaia and Kysenna knew the secret of the lamps and the pressed two. I don't know which, not my job to know. But they opened the last door and Nag'molada found his precious object in the aqueducts.

Oh, and as we fought our way out and back to the safehold, I came to a new understanding of thievery, a realization if you will.

It was, as they say, an adventure.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Almost a memory now.

I should be a little more hesitant to post about this, but it's important, and I think I have the words now.

He's my adopted brother, and something of a mentor. He raised my adventurous spirit, took me to places a young thief should never go, glaciers, ferries, islands. With his help, I managed to show the archduke I was worthy of riding on his airships. When he went to sky for the first time, he brought me along to Hall of the Gods, and then described what he saw in the world above, and I knew I'd get there someday.

She's my twin sister. I met her after I met my bro, but for a while, we were almost on the same paths, two thieves on their way to Norg for the first time. I guess she was always a little harsh, but she was very nice to me. And though our jobs eventually grew apart, we still stayed together. We crafted together. And together we found the twin keepers of Blighted Gloom and enlisted their assistance.

They're together now, in the way Cieria and I are. Partners in life and adventuring, and I believe they are happy. Yet, our paths have taken us separate ways, sometimes in a friendly way, sometimes in an angry way. And now separate enough, that we've chosen to go with another group of people to let the good memories survive and the bad ones fade away.

Right now, I know they feel betrayed by us, not just by Cieria and I, but the whole group of us that formed our own shell to make new memories for ourselves, and let our pasts with them come down to fond memories, and greetings in Whitegate.

I suppose, I can't speak for anyone else, but I don't hate you guys. Quite the opposite, in fact. And I leave so that I will never have to stop loving you both.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Moghouse Style: Inspiration across Vana'diel

As a general rule, adventurers don't spend much time inside their moghouses, but that doesn't mean they must come home to an empty room bereft of style and substance. With a little work any adventurer can turn their mog-house into a warm an inviting space they can call a mog-home.

Davoi is always a wonderful place to find chic and contemporary items for your home, for less than Auction House prices.

As this Toraimarai Canal room shows, the lived in look will always be in, and the Tarutaru skull on the chair adds a touch of creepy charm to an otherwise classic and elegant library.

These floors in the Hall of the Gods are expensive to install, but their special effect will make it a showstopping centerpiece to your front entrance.

Adventuring brings many relics and gifts from grateful townspeople and by all means display these in your mog house, but remember, too many knick-knacks will make your room cluttered.

After a long day of killing beastmen and taking their stuff, nothing beats a soak in this backyard hottub, based on a similar one on Horlais Peak.

Dynamic artwork warms up this cold stone wall, but all aspiring interior designers remember, when attempting to decorate a Tonberry stronghold, ask permission first.

Greenery makes any moghouse come alive.

Ever since the seaway to Aht Urgan opened, the Middle Lands have fallen in love with Corsairs. As this room in the Maze of Shakrami shows, a few antique accessories--lanterns, coins, treasure boxes-- and distressed furniture, can turn your place into a pirate's hideaway.

This hat-rack, custom-made by Shantotto, not only hangs your hat, but with the special curses placed on it, can also hang your enemy's head. Beautiful and multipurpose!

Mannequins have had some stigma across Vana'diel for some time now, but their look, storage, and fuctionality should inspire any adventurer to overcome their fear of what promises to be the next exciting home trend.

Aquariums make a dramatic statement in any room, but there is such a thing as going overboard.

May your Mog-house always be in style.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Quiz Time!

Q: When faced with the choice of hunting bats in a moldy ruin, where the floors are littered with holes, and adventurers from all sides of Vana'diel are literally killing themselves to see who has the most bats and beetles on them or taking a cruise out to a beautiful tropical isle with more exotic prey and wonderful seafood lunches, which does a true Star Onion Cat choose?

A: The seafood lunch, of course!

Q: You see a Red Mage being chased by a couple of ardor-rabid opo-opos, what is an appropriate thing to shout at him?

A: "Shock the monkey!" or "Shock 'him monkeys!" depending on whether you like the Red Mage in question or not.

Q: You're having one of those pesky nightmares again, where the beastmen take over your hometown and you and your fellow adventurers must raid this world. However, things are not going so hot and your group stands on the brink of annihilation again, what do you do?

A: Run like mad and/or start muttering something from "The Charge of the Light Brigade"

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

By some bard, Lord Tennyson.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Any Publicity is Good Publicity

The Star Onion Cats in conjuction with the Fuzzy Pickles linkshell provide for you tonight the latest and greatest entertainment on all of Vana'diel: The death metal barbershop quartet Duct Tape Zombies!

Don't be the only one in your Big Game Linkshell to miss what promises to be their Vana'diel shattering debut at the Nashmau dome. Naja Salaheem would give her pointy mace for front row seats, so why wouldn't you?

Listen to the old classics, "Baby I'm gonna Eat Your Brains (and Rock Your Body too)", and "Death Comes from All Sides and Has a Handful of Tarutaru Entrail" as well as their upcoming singles, "My Bomb Core Looks like a Demonic Vagina" and "Nomad Moogles Never Call for Help (That's what I Like about Them)."

This night promises to be one you never forget, but just in case, tickets to the Duct Tape Zombies Eat Nashmau include a dinner cruise on the Silver Sea Route and the masterful break dance stylings of Cookie-Master Solare.

Tickets are flying out the window as we speak! Get yours today!*

*We accept Gil and Kraken Clubs as payment.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Be here in my dreams.

I was young when I killed the Shadow Lord, and with the Zilartian princes making their move, I had more important things to preoccupy myself with.

But lately, as I reached the limits of a Dragoon's potential, I've been feeling strange. Well, mostly dreams. It start's the same, I'm always by the Mog House, and there are these markings on the ground that I've never noticed before. And I have this hourglass that I set upon the trail markings.

When I do, the city darkens and statues of beastmen roam the streets. People surround me, but we are few in this city controlled by beastmen. Some of them I know, Cieria is by my side always, and so are some people from our linkshell. Most are strangers, though.

We swarm monsters, and monsters swarm us. Many times we fall to their numbers, and unlike the monsters out in the world, these beastmen are stronger, more intelligent. The cities we thought of as our havens become the enemy's base, and we infiltrate.

The battles stretch out for hours and days it seems. Each individual falls quickly, for the combined prowess of adventurers exceeds that of any Orcish mob. But they come in waves and waves to drive us out or destroy us.

We prevail at least, and the tomb of the Overlord rises and falls, and many of us fall with it. Upon the earth where it died, I see the scepter of the fabled Hydra Corps. Then I wake up, in my mog house dazed, and a little woozy too. I swear I dreamed the whole thing, but in the secret secret pocket of my Gobbiebag there are six bronze coins, the currency of the old San d'Orian kingdom before gil became the standard currency of civilized nations.

And I walk out of the Mog House, still a bit sick, and what does my feverish mind see:

And when I see Ettie again, she's gnawing on something, as though it were a rare treat.


Tuesday, June 5, 2007

We love this man.

We love him. We've loved him the minute we saw his cold Aht Urgan heart through the vest of his Sha'ir Manteel.

We love his shaved and tattooed head, his dark and mysterious spectacles, and the aforementioned Manteel.

In fact, we might even go straight for him.

He could warp me to Aht Urgan *any* time *winkwink*