Courier De Bois - The Trappers of Tailfeather

Staff Writer: S'lyhhia Loha

To the north, in the Dravanian forelands, you will find the settlement of Tailfeather. If you are merely passing through, you’ll receive little regard and mayhap a comment or two. However, suppose you are seeking to employ a sturdy, surly sort as a tracker or wood courier or are looking to obtain a chocobo steed. In that case, you will arouse a seemingly sleepy settlement into a frenzy of savvy and shifty businessmen. However, a charismatic amber-eyed boy with ebon hair and reddish bronze skin managed to spirit me away from the crowd and introduce me to one of the wood couriers and expert trappers of his clan, Yvain Martel.Master Yvain made his initial impression by taming a wild chocobo when introduced. A stern, straightforward sort, he was rightfully protective of his people and their trade. However, he was kind enough to divulge the ways of his clan, allowing me a glimpse of their day-to-day lives and cherished customs. Not born a Martel but adopted, he explained that even those native to Dravania must prove themselves worthy of the name. This makes a number of the clans, including the Martels, remain diverse as a people. Trials that tested each member’s strength, skill, and quick wit are issued when an individual is ready, with each triumph inked into their arms as a badge of honor and pride. These practices vary between the families and factions, of course.“Different clans have different initiation rites,” Yvain explained, “but for Martel, you must lead your first bear hunt, brave the white water rapids of the Whilom in a cedar canoe, and of course, break in your first Chocobo. After every trial, you earn an additional component of your tattoo, and once you have the full sleeve, you earn the name 'Martel.'"

He cited the young boy who introduced us, Louis-Riel, as an example. Having broken his first chocobo by age ten, he earned the pair of eagle’s wings inked into his skin. Eager to display his prowess when I expressed interest in the family’s trials, I was invited to sit in on a canoe run. The vessel chosen was carved from a single red cedar log - the tree felled by Yvain himself. It was then shaped through a method known as steam bending, which makes the wood pliable enough to form the canoe into the desired form. It is then decorated with nature-related motifs - often the selfsame animals that adorn the arms of the clan in ink. We were joined by Yvain’s partner - the lovely Corveau. Terse and tough as she was lovely to look at, she, too, was in the process of earning a place in the clan.What was meant to be a practice run quickly became a dire situation. The river’s rush quickly claimed control of the canoe, sending us into a cluster of jagged rocks known locally as “The Maw.” The Maw promptly chewed up our beautiful vessel and sought to do the same to us. Under young Louis-Riel’s guidance, his quick thinking and our faith in his skill managed to see us through the worst of it. So expertly did he captain us that he and Corveau passed this trial. We all came out of it a little worse for wear, but the canoe suffered the worst of it as it began to take on water by the time we reached a calmer stretch of the river. Fortune was indeed on our side as we made it to the river’s edge, where several Martel women greeted us with shock at the state of the canoe and its crew. They saw to our wounds and made certain all were well.The tenacity and togetherness of the various people was inspiring thing to see. To survive a landscape that is as deadly as it is beautiful, one needs a healthy balance of reliance on self and others. The people of Tailfeather have mastered this balance since its establishment. And what I thought would be a settlement of one people was, in actuality, a town of numerous folks from different corners of the star alongside those whose bloodlines can be traced back generations. It would take many trips and reports to capture the history and rich diversity of the settlement truly - a challenge I hope to meet someday with the aid of the Martels.

Ghosts of Azai Island: Hingashi's Age of Strife Lives On

Editor-In-Chief: Sima Qian 司馬遷

On a crisp spring morning, I watch the horizon on the deck of a flat-bottomed lorcha as it crosses the salt. Before we set off, I provided the proper offerings to Mazu, ancestor spirit of the sea. Sure enough, the waters of the Ruby Sea are calm today, swelling my heart with confidence that my journey has been blessed by the ocean Kami. Not even overcast skies, a light drizzle and a blanket of fog can dull my sense of optimism. Bad weather is simply karma, neh?Suddenly, the silhouette of another vessel appears through the misty shroud. The next thing I know, I’m lurching forward, stumbling like a drunken granny on her third cup of baijiu. Our ship has been rammed, and we are being boarded! A squadron of Kojin vagrants leap aboard our forecastle, spinning like deadly dreidels launched forth from a string of malice. Limbs bursting forth from their shells, they brandish their swords and lances at us. Their leader steps forth, bellowing: “Wow, Yasuda really had these guys read! Now, which one of you runts wants to try their luck against Captain Koju?!”So much for an auspicious journey!Let us back up to where this story truly begins. In the nation of Hingashi, the age of strife has been over for generations, but in one of its constituent territories, the tiny island of Azai, war still rages on. Since antiquity, the isle of Azai was lucky to be a footnote in the historical record. Tiny, possessed of no valuable industry, and located along no lucrative trade routes, it drifted through the passing Astral and Umbral eras unnoticed. Ironically, the only reason there is anything worth warring over on this island is due to the efforts of a man who, above all else, sought harmony, balance and peace.Some centuries ago, as rival warlords kept the Hingan mainland bathed in an orgy of blood, a general known as Kikuchi Hajime arrived on Azai’s shores. He came not just with his vassals and his soldiers, but their families as well. Little is known about Kikuchi Hajime’s life before this, only that his given name, which means ‘beginning,’ was likely a pseudonym he adopted to hide his birth name. At one time, he had been one of Hingashi’s many marauding warlords, but after having supped his fill of internecine carnage, he grew tired of bloodshed. Like the ancient poet Bi Lai retreated to the Green Mountains to escape the cutthroat scheming of the Rijin Palace during the reign of King Seien, Kikuchi Hajime took his vassals on an exodus from the wartorn Hingan mainland to the unclaimed isle of Azai.Through artful diplomacy, the pre-existing fishing villages on the isle were integrated with the newcomers, and within a generation, they had become one community. To commemorate a new era for Azai, Kikuchi Hajime sponsored the building of a temple on the highest mountain, dedicating it to Azai, the Dragon Auspice for whom the island was named. For the next three hundred years, the descendants of Hajime, the Kikuchi clan, ruled as the Lords of Azai. Each generation of Kikuchi lords contributed to the islands’ growth, sponsoring the creation of mines, the expansion of fishing fleets, and fostering overseas trading connections. All of this transformed Azai from a forgotten and literally backwater islet, to an insular powerhouse in industry and commerce.For centuries, the peoples of Azai lived out the peaceful life so coveted by their forefather Hajime, but soon, this idyllic status quo was shattered. Less than a generation ago, the unbroken line of Kikuchi rulers was severed when one Yasuda Takashi, an in-law of the reigning Kikuchi lord, deposed his kinsman and took his place as the reigning lord of Azai. The true anatomy of this coup d’etat remains unknown to this day, but its oily tendrils likely writhe all the way to the highest levels of the Bakufu court in Bugyo. Azai, a trifling afterthought during Hingashi’s age of warfare, had grown prosperous enough to become a prized piece in the cutthroat politics of Hingashi’s age of peace.Naturally, many of Azai’s citizens, most of whom the descendants of Kikuchi Hajime’s followers, did not take kindly to Yasuda Takashi’s usurpation. They took to the hills, beginning a rebel insurgency led by the late Lord Kikuchi’s grandson, Hisao Kikuchi. Later, it was revealed that the rebel prince’s sister, young warrior Aiya Kikuchi was still alive, giving the rebels not one, but two totems to rally around. Thus, as of the writing of this article, Azai is an island at war, with the supporters of the usurper Yasuda seeking to put down the rebellion against their lord, and the rebels seeking to restore the rightful Kikuchi bloodline as rulers of the isle.This brings us back to where we began, with me, the humble reporter Sima Qian, stuck aboard a flat-bottomed lorcha presently being attacked by Red Kojin.Indeed! It turns out that, with his island being a warzone and all, the usurper Lord Yasuda has hired the Ruby Sea’s most infamous Chelonian mercenaries to seize any ships sailing into his waters, just in case the crewmen happen to be smugglers delivering weapons to the Kikuchi restorationist rebels. I and my intrepid field aide Qilin Kha aid our ship's crew in dispatching the Red Kojin back into the sea. Afterwards, I cannot help but wonder how Yasuda, whose coffers must already be considerably depleted due to wartime expenses, has secured the services of these testudinated freebooters. Likely, it is the peasants of Azai who are shouldering this financial burden. The Sage King Shoen of Doma once said: “A ruler who exploits his own people is no different from a gluttonous man who feasts on his own flesh,” but most regional despots with a feudal war to fund tend to ignore this wisdom, opting instead to plunder their subjects’ rice stockpiles to pay for the lances which will impale their dissidents.Upon making landfall in Azai, I make contact with the so-called “crab bandits,” the Kikuchi loyalists so named for the crab-infested caves in which they once hid from Yasuda forces. After examining my credentials and running a background check to confirm I am who I say I am, the crustacean vagrants take me to a coastal fortress which, for now, serves as their foothold on the island. There, I am granted an audience with the Lady Insurgent herself, Aiya Kikuchi in the flesh.The young scion comparts herself with dignity and grace during our interview, behaving with ren (humility), wen (cultural refinement) and li (etiquette). She explains to me the island’s history, and recalls the memories of her youth, speaking filially of the late Lord Kikuchi, her Grandfather, and the prosperity he brought to Azai before his deposition at the hands of Lord Yasuda. She also speaks virulently of Lord Yasuda’s rule, painting him as a limpid liege lord whose inept administration has seen trade suffer and taxes rise to make up the deficit, resulting in increased hardships for the common people, even before the outbreak of war.Of course, it is only natural that Lady Aiya would paint a benevolent picture of herself and her cause while portraying her enemies as the sycophants of a flaccid despot. She claims to have the people’s support, but I would be a poor journalist to take her at her word. Thus, to get a fuller picture, I disguise myself as a poor peddler and begin roaming the countryside of Azai incognito, aiming to gain a more well rounded sense of the mood of the common folk.Seeing me as nothing more than a wandering hawker of pinchbeck wares, the islanders are loose lipped around me. Few people buy anything from me, but many are happy to complain to me about their destitute lot. Many folks seem surprised that an itinerant merchant has traveled here at all, remarking: “you picked the wrong island to peddle your wares on, stranger.” In every village I visit, the men are surly, the youths are listless, the windows are boarded, and the fields are barren. Previously cowed into meek silence by Yasuda’s footmen, the presence of the rebels has made most of the local villagers bold and defiant, and they openly speak to me about the halcyon days of the late Lord Kikuchi’s rule, and the decay that followed his usurpation. “The Kami have abandoned these lands, stranger.” One old woman rasps at me, “You should go back to peddling on Koshu.”All in all, my itinerant experience led me to conclude that Lord Yasuda is a deeply unpopular ruler, and the majority of Azai’s population see the return of the Kikuchis as a liberation. Curiously, no one in any of the villages I visited appeared to be over the age of fifty. Elders are, of course, the source of any community’s wisdom, discipline and work ethic, so it leaves me to wonder, where have they all gone?Before I shed my peddler’s disguise, I decide to make one last stop on my sightseeing tour: the temple of Azai, where the island’s titular patron kami makes its home. As I ascend the mountain, it is a dour sight I am greeted with. The temple is in a sorry state of disrepair. The vermillion paint on the torii is chipped and faded; peering past it, the zen garden is unkempt, with bristling weeds encroaching upon what must have once been a lovingly cherished rock garden. The doors leading into the main hall are bolted shut, marred by large splintered cavities, no doubt indicating where decorative brass buttons had been gouged out to be melted down to forge weapons or mint debased coinage.Unfortunately, I do not have a chance to take a closer look, for no sooner have I approached the torii am I accosted by two guards girded with tachi blades and baring the Yasuda crest upon their kimonos. Tersely, they tell me that the temple is closed off to the public, and to shove off. I suppose that during times of war, it is normal for people to be suspicious of strangers. Even so, holy places are meant to stand apart from the squabbles of men, and allow anyone to find sanctuary in their halls regardless of the feuds of the secular world beyond its walls. Moreover, out of a sense of propriety and respect for the divine, a local lord will usually let the monks of the local temple manage their own affairs, yet in this case, the monks of Azai, and Lord Yasuda have assumed direct control of the temple grounds.As I return to the lair of the Kikuchi loyalists and trade in my peddlars rags for my silken kimono, several unanswered questions swirl about in my mind. Why are all of Azai’s villages missing their elders? Where are all of Azai’s monks, and why is entrance to the temple permitted? What revelations will come to light as Hisao and Aiya Kikuchi launch their campaign to dethrone their maternal uncle? All of these answers and more will be reported on as this story develops.

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The View From Below - Townball

Staff Writer: Susuni Suni

If you’ve ever travelled north on the road out of Ul Dah and wound your way west, you’ve probably noted off in the distance a large but ramshackle stadium of sorts on top of a hill. Despite being so large it is so poorly made that even the distance cannot erase its obvious flaws. Seeing something that large in such a rural area you’ve likely asked yourself “what’s that about?”If you’ve been past recently, you’ve possibly seen that it had burned down. As it was on a hill and likely a fire hazard from the time it was built this only makes it slightly more likely that you’ll ask yourself “what’s all that about?”Townball. That’s what it’s about.Never heard of Townball? Most people haven’t, which makes sense given this is the only place it’s played.The rules for Townball are simple. There is a ball about the size of a large melon. It may be slightly oblong depending on who made the last one. Round balls are hard to sew. Try it sometime.There are two teams of twelve people on each side, called East and West, based on where they live in the area relative to the stadium itself. You put the ball in the middle of the field, blow a whistle, and the two teams proceed to kill each other using the ball as an excuse. Points are scored by putting the ball into a loosely packed bale of hay on the side where the other team stared.It doesn’t matter how you put the ball into the haybale. Get close enough that you can ram it in with your hand, throw it hard and well enough that it goes in, or grab whoever is carrying it and smash them into the bale. The bale is big and heavy, but if it moves during the game, you can play it where it sits.The only other real rule is that you can run when you get the ball, but once you stop you can’t start moving again. You can throw the ball to somebody else, hand it to somebody else, try to score if you’re close enough, or watch helplessly as the other team assaults you and takes the ball away. You can also try throwing the ball down in an effort to avoid death, but you’d be surprised how seldom players select this option. Traditions, don’t you know.Each team starts with twenty players available and the game ends when one team can no longer field twelve.If you think the rules above are prone to leading to violence, you’re right. The violence is rather the point. There are traditions that say you shouldn’t try to deliberately kill anyone, and the people there are traditional…most of the time.West’s best player for the last few years was a man named John. John wasn’t the largest man around, but he was smart and fast. This year, however, John’s son John was finally old enough to join the West team. Just to prevent any confusion they started referring to the two of them as “Young John” and “Old John”. This would have been a great system for preventing confusion were it not for the East team having a very good player named John Young.Simple folk having a limited supply of names, John Young’s father was also named John. This would have led to a double layer of confusion were it not for the fact that Old John Young had been trampled to death by his own horses when backing his wagon into the barn after a heavy night of drinking. Thus, Young John Young just became John Young.Old John and John Young didn’t really like each other much. The reason for this is obscure but probably had something to do with unwillingly sharing a name, though it could have been an argument over corn, since that’s also a source of deep disputes in the country. The end result of this was that they had a history of hard tackles against one another, whether one of them had the ball or not. Old John also had the concern this year that John Young might try to carry over their feud onto Young John.It's not that Young John was particularly vulnerable, as he was a much larger man than his father Old John. He was new to Townball though and unlike the equally-big John Young, he didn’t know all the dirty tricks.The game itself proceeded like it always did, with violence from the first whistle and not a lot of scoring for the first hour. At this point West was down to eighteen healthy players to East’s seventeen, but East was up by a score of two to one. The two teams called a break by mutual agreement to get everybody some water and bandages.Breaks in Townball were not an official thing. The ball was set into the middle of the field as usual, but the teams just left it there and warily walked off the field for the duration of the break. Play commenced by mutual agreement, with proper staring positions enforced by the threat of even greater violence than normal.It was at this point while everyone was mostly distracted that John Young showed his true cunning, and decided that now was the time to score, tradition be damned. He surged onto the field and before almost anybody could react, grabbed the ball, and began to run to the scoring bale.I say almost anyone because Young John, looking to impress his father and knowing what a thorn in his side John Young was, had been paying attention. Young John surged onto the field with a burst of speed that only comes with youth and applied a tackle to John Young that was so hard that John Young’s jersey came off as he dropped the ball. The jersey-wrapped ball proceeded to bounce away from where John Young and Young John both lay on the ground, shaken and insensate.The East and West teams realized about this time that something had happened, but it wasn’t immediately clear what. One of East’s players, trying to rouse his comrades to get back onto the field yelled “By the twelve they’ve killed John!”Knowing they had a confusion of Johns on the field somebody asked, “Which John?”, to which the East player responded “Young!”, as if this really was sufficient to gain any real clarity.This is where things began to go truly wrong.If you recall from earlier, Young John was a much larger man than his father (Old John for those of you who didn’t buy the program). Most of this size was a result of Young John’s mother.Young John’s mother was a woman commonly known as “Large Margret” because it was seen as rude to call a woman, no matter how big, “Huge Margret”. To properly picture Large Margaret, think of farm wife made of all the body parts that were too excessively disproportionate to be used in the construction of a hyur woman, and join them all together. Add to this a face made for expressing negative emotions and a temper any swordsmith would envy, and you gain some understanding of why Old John was still a good player even in his old age.Large Margret looked out on the field, saw her son’s body on the ground and an inside out jersey with a head-sized object wrapped in it bouncing away and came to two perfectly reasonable conclusions. The first was that the “John” and “Young” she’d heard earlier referred to her son, Young John. The second, possibly the less reasonable one of the two, was that her son had just been decapitated and killed on the field and people were watching his head bounce away.Had Large Margret given it a little thought she would have realized that somebody with his head removed is probably beyond medical assistance. In the few seconds before her mind was submerged in pure rage however, her only real thought was that she should recover the head, and she ran onto the field to do just that.The two teams were just beginning to raggedly take the field, mostly of them still not clear what had just happened, and Large Margret’s entry onto the field was greeted with additional confusion as nobody remembered her joining either team.Old John was close enough to see that Young John was down but just stunned, but also knew that the look on his wife’s (Large Margret, you’ll recall. Buy the program next time, huh?) face meant that somebody was about to be murdered for reasons that didn’t matter at that juncture. He took to the field to try to intercept her and limit the damage.This then left the West team with far too many players on the field, something the East team noticed and charged on the field in the direction of the ball, Large Margret, and every John that wasn’t an outhouse.To the spectators on the West teams stands it now appeared that the East team was rushing en masse to attack the mother of one of their players who admittedly was on the field for…reasons. The entire west stands and bench cleared at that point, answered immediately by the East stands doing the same thing.In the rush, several of the food wagons were knocked over, which started the fire that would burn the stadium down. Nobody really noticed as at this point the melee became general.Later, everyone was sprawled in the ruins of the stadium. The scoring hay bales had burned away and nobody could even find the ball. Neither team had more than a handful of players who could even get to their feet, never mind run. They agreed to call it a tie.Everyone agreed it had been the best townball game in ages.

Duskwight till Dawn - An Interview with Nivie Rothbart

Staff Writer: Ayana Rhelka

For this edition of The Looking Glass, I've decided to continue my Random Division Sampling Interview Technique, much like how I cornered Crym in the bath for my last article! That was Operations, now let's give it up for Security! This time, I've once again embraced my extreme bias and have chosen Nivie Rothbart, our Security Lieutenant and Big Boss Lady Of The Front Desk when it comes to Lounge Night![The Halcyon Assembly's Open Lounge commences every sennight (Monday at 8EST, Goblet Ward 8 Plot 60), we hope to see you all there!]
—QUESTION ONE: How did you wind up in the employ of the Halcyon Assembly?NIVIE: "The lounge itself is to blame for that, Miss Rhelka. 'tis what keeps me so focused on it. I first came as a guest. I was a woman of more ambition than means, and...a place like Reverie's open lounge appealed. Stylish. Opulent. Yet well within my means. I was an up and coming gladiator with grand plans to worm my way into Ul'dah's upper crust. It made a fine starting point.Of course, it also derailed those plans. I turned down the first job offer here. Then the second. But I started to make friends here. And then an old friend of mine took work here, too." AYANA: "--Ariane? Or someone else?" NIVIE: "Ariane, indeed. We grew up together, but, well, lost track of one another over the years. But I was making a name for myself in the city, and she was working as a guard on a caravan route that ended here in Ul'dah. It was only a matter of time before our paths crossed.Me, I was doing quite well for myself. I had my arena career. I had a full time spot in a ludus stable, a fair few wins, and was novel enough to catch the crowd's interest. So I turned down the offer. But when Ariane told me she got one, too, I encouraged her to take it. It was far, far, far better than caravan work.Why at Reverie, and not somewhere else, you might ask. That, my dear, would be Lyn's fault. Lynienne. She was a new friend, rather than an old one. She was already working here when I first came by, and she is a woman who leaves an impression. One sees far too few Duskwights here in the desert.The stereotype exists even here, even if it is not as strong as in the Shroud. Many are reluctant to hire us. Others are all too willing to hire us explicitly for less-than-legal work. Seeing Lynienne here made it clear that this place had no such leanings. And so, because you had the one, soon you had two, and then more besides."QUESTION TWO: What was it like starting out in the Security Division? NIVIE: "I might ask you the same question! I'm curious how our answers compare. But, fine, I shall stick to talking about myself. It was good fun in some ways. Frustrating in others. One always starts on the bottom, whatever one's past achievements. It takes work to prove your mettle.This is doubly true with Security here - or with similar work elsewhere. Whatever one puts down on paper, the current commander and officers have to know how you'll function in practice. Beyond that, one has to get used to the established team. No one likes dealing with some hot-shot new addition who thinks she already knows everything. And so I followed orders and made myself useful." AYANA: "What was the worst part of it, do you think?" NIVIE: "I clashed some with the original leadership. Less on fieldwork and more on the lounge. It was always my favorite duty. In the years I've been here, I've missed very few lounge nights, and that's a pattern that started early. After a few moons of that…... I started feeling like I knew what lounge work was about better than some of my superior officers. At times, it was frustrating to have someone who outranked me on duty, especially when they made what I thought was a poor call.And then, of course, there was the new uniform policy. I was a right catty bitch about that." AYANA: "I can only imagine." NIVIE: "Oh, you don't have to imagine. I shall tell you straight out. See, when I started, security wore combat gear even to the lounge. But it was eventually decided that this scared the customers. And it made little sense, since we never had a violent incident. That still holds true, by and by, all this time later. Never has there been a lounge situation where heavy armor would've helped.I was all for it. But I did not like the way the new rules were implemented. We were ordered to provide our own uniforms and pay for them out of pocket. 'A tabard with mail under, color coded by rank' was the rule. That's when the current colors started, too.And so, I did it. But I went all out. A 'tabard with mail' is a very general sort of direction, and so, when I next showed up, I had just about the fanciest godsdamned uniform that still fit it. Colored red, of course, to fit my rank. But it did little to hide the fact that I looked a damn way fancier than even the officers....Of course, once I was placed in charge of the place, I kept the look. But now I was the authority. And so, my old 'dress uniform' became the standard. Provided by the company, free of charge, to those agents who'll be working duties that demand it." AYANA: "You're a bloody hero, you are." NIVIE: "Oh, now, I wouldn't say that. Certainly not for this. It really was a petty sort of act of defiance. But if I was going to be paying for it myself, it would be something I'd look good in, and damn the expense.... And I dare say our security team looks quite good in theirs, too, even now."QUESTION THREE: Why are you so dedicated to your job? Lounge Night is infamously difficult to staff, yet you rarely miss a shift and take on duties most of us would rather shirk. NIVIE: "The most self-flattering answer would be that I've a will of sword-quality steel and endless stores of resolve. But the truth is that I enjoy it. I have fun with it! I like mingling with people when I have the chance, and lounge work lets me do that. It certainly does now that I encourage such mingling, so long as it does not keep us from our main duty.I look forward to it every sennend. Have there been difficult nights? Yes. Sometimes, an unusual guest is a fun change of pace, and sometimes such a thing is a pain in the arse that distracts me from my main duty - which means other problems creep up. But all in all, I just like doing it. I'm quite good at it, too - and that warm and fuzzy feeling one gets in exchange for a job well done is also a big positive." AYANA: "An inspiration to us all, truly! I always enjoy watching you tackle the difficult situations." NIVIE: "In nearly every such case, the right approach will leave everyone feeling good about what happened. That includes the source of the problem.Sometimes, there's nothing for it but to ask a guest to take their business elsewhere. And I'll do that if it's a choice between that and making things unpleasant for other guests or our staff. But usually, there's a way through it all that works for everyone."QUESTION FOUR: What are some of the most bizarre things that have happened to you while on-shift for Lounge Night? NIVIE: "My! We finally hit a question I'm not sure I should answer. There are a few stories I'm all too happy to tell in private. But this is for the paper! 'Bizarre' is a judgment upon one of our guests. All of them put someone in a bad light, the way I usually tell them.Once, a long time ago, there was a lass who jumped off one of our second-story walkways - the ones that lead to the library - because a fellow she fancied did it first. But the fellow had quite extensive training and could do that casually. The lass did not and couldn't.Another time, we had a gentleman who was the sort of Dark Knight who wants everyone to know it. Grim and spooky armor, a fondness for dark corners, a love of brooding. I kept something like an eye on him the whole night, half to make sure he does not cause problems, and half because I didn't want him to get too lonely. An act like that oft leads to a very quiet evening of drinking on one's lonesome.... And then a drunken lass who looked entirely harmless until she put away all that alcohol started picking on him. That whole situation ended up with her running into him out in the yard. And then, when he tried to walk away from him, she tackled him from behind. Got his damn good, too. Right in the back of the knees. Don't matter how big and strong you are, that much momentum to the back of your joint gets you, you are going down.I don't even blame him for what happened next. Fwoooosh - spooky dark aether all over the place. When you are a trained fighter, you react to an attack. On instinct, really.Oh, the girl herself was fine. 'tis not a very directed attack. But it killed a wide circle of grass in our yard. Stayed like that for quite some time, but we eventually redid the yard and fixed it.It didn't happen inside, but I still consider it one of my biggest mistakes and miscalculations. These suns, I am far less willing to simply ignore when a guest drinks themselves well past the bounds of all common sense.Then there are a fair few guests who looked quite odd. But, to be perfectly honest, 'tis not my business, that. Whether they are simply wealthy eccentrics in some costume or something genuinely unusual enough to make a Sharlayan swoon, I'm happy enough to have them here. Just as long as they have gil to spend and follow the rules.I've seen a few guests that struck me as very strange, aye. But 'tis a personal judgment. Most of them didn't even do anything to trouble our staff or other visitors.... There was one fellow who kept checking in his shoes as 'weapons' and then tried to escape without picking them up.But I made damnably sure he got them back the last time he was here. I take that seriously."QUESTION FIVE: What advice would you have for agents trying to decide whether or not to attend a field mission? NIVIE: "My! A complicated question, that. Do I want to encourage it, or discourage it? On the one hand, more hands are always welcome. One need not be a career fighter to have skills that will come in useful. On the other, such missions are dangerous. If one panics when others are relying on them, it puts the rest of the team in danger. Yet, how can one ever gain experience if only the weathered and experienced are allowed to take part?"I think that last point is my biggest. Everyone must start somewhere. Fieldwork of that sort is a skill. And any skill can be learned. It just takes practice and effort."
I am, of course, assuming that I am speaking to someone who has limited field experience. Or perhaps only limited experience with our own field team. But if our hypothetical agent already knows what's what... then they know enough to make the choice without me.Veterans like myself are more than willing to work with agents new to the field. Really, I make a point of it to all new security members. They'll be working with people who might not have their experience. And that is part of the job.But, even with that said, I'm happy enough to have security agents of limited experience in such things. They just need to be ready and willing to learnEven if a few of my best do keep downplaying their own experience and record.”(As her gaze was directed at me, it was then that I stuck my tongue out at that point and asked her if she had any more words for our readers.) NIVIE: "But if I had to give anyone some general advice on how to be more like me, then…Then I'd say 'decide who you want to be. Then do what it takes to make it real.'”—As a person and professional both, Nivie is a delight to talk to and a fountain of stories and advice. I hope you enjoyed reading this interview as much as I enjoyed conducting it!

Thanalan Summer

Staff Writer: Wilberga Lowe

Distant clouds fade on the horizon
mud the only sign of their passing
The thirsty desert drinks desperately
a brief reprieve from parched lipsThe morning sun steals what drops remain
Mud withers to cracked earth and sand
The desert stubbornly resets
Pretending the rain a distant memoryYet the rain cannot be erased
Hiding in the desert sands seeds awake
Green things blanket the Thanalan waste
Attired in their finest for the ballPinks and purples dancing together in the breeze
Yellows and oranges host a banquet for the bees
The revelers fill the air with sweet perfume
Rejoicing in their seasonal bloom

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Motherhood Wisdoms

Staff Writer: L'ihr Iahe

Spring is officially here! Hatching-tide is still in full swing and there are babies absolutely everywhere! Fluffy little lambs and tiny aldgoat kids just make the heart nearly explode with the joy of life. Perhaps it may even bring about your own baby fever, seeing the cute little animals following their mothers about. If you fall victim to this ‘ailment’ and decide it is high time for you to lug about your own roly poly bundle of joy, allow this humble writer to offer you a few morsels of advice. In this article, we will go over a few things to do to get yourself physically prepared for the long journey to parenthood!First and foremost would be your altered diet. While it may all sound appealing, being able to use the excuse, “I’m eating for two now”, is not necessarily the case. Depending on the advice from your local healer, midwife, or chirurgeon, you may not even have to increase by much. However, what you eat is going to be the important bit. Leafy greens are your best friend, the darker the better! Even before pregnancy, eating your greens will help prepare your body and make it a healthy environment for a growing little one. Dairy products such as milk, cheese, and yogurt help keep your body strong and sturdy for all the extra weight you will be gaining.Though another thing to keep in mind would be what you cannot eat as well. While meat is a good source of nutrients, making sure it is fully cooked is highly important. Sushi, sashimi, and other dishes containing raw fish are to be avoided as the parasites that can be found in the flesh of the fish can be dangerous to a developing child. Other raw meats can carry harmful illnesses if not fully cooked, which much like the parasites in raw fish, can cause damage to your little one while still in the womb. More foods on the list would be soft cheeses, specifically veined cheeses. While tasty, they can also carry bad illnesses that would be made worse by your condition. Wine, beer, and liquor consumption are highly thought to cause terrible conditions in newborns so it is heavily suggested to avoid these substances. Coffee is advised against, but certain midwives swear that a single cup a day while pregnant will help with tiredness as pregnancy progresses, aiding you in being able to go about your day and take care of business until you absolutely have to start slowing down.Physical activity is important as well when preparing for the arrival of a little one! You will be up and down and running all around after the child comes, even before they become mobile, so it is best to keep yourself in good working order. Before conceiving and in the early stages of pregnancy, you can exercise as usual. The only limitations would be your energy levels, which will be up and down throughout, and your range of motion once limbs and belly begin to swell. Make sure to keep up with regular visits to your local healer or midwife to make sure your exercise routine is still acceptable.One last thing to bear in mind for preparation is one directed to the village and people in the lives of one who is about to embark on this crazy journey. Support your person. That is what they need most at this time. Cook them a meal, rub their feet, help them clean and organize so it is one less task invading their already whirling mind. Even just letting them know you are thinking of them can be such a relief on their mental health, which could arguably be the biggest loser during these long moons. Your support to your loved one will mean the world to them and be perhaps the most important thing for them during pregnancy.

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Ice, Blood & Voidsent

Staff Writer: Xanatos Tiva

Coerthas is home to plenty of things that do their best to make that frozen hellscape so difficult to inhabit. The temperature and frigid weather make growing crops difficult. That same difficulty leads to a lower amount of kindling to keep spaces warm. Deep snowfalls make it easy to get lost or hide treacherous ice. Any step you take out there can very easily be the last you or any other foolish adventurer take if you are not prepared.Even with the dragon threat being greatly diminished, there are plenty of creatures that call that tundra home and are not at all opposed to ensuring that there are no newcomers to also settle in their frozen home. Wolves, Yetis, Slimes, Deer, Birds, Bears, Zoblyns, cultists, the living dead, and yes even a few renegade dragons and dragon-kin all pose a danger to each and every adventurer or Knight in that accursed highland. Despite the beauty some might find in such icy environs such dangers tend to keep those without a very strong reason from venturing too far from the Ishgardian border fortress. Reasons like the one that brought my own company out far from that fort and into a bake for our very survival. Yet as I pen these words, the reason I favor my newly mended side and listen to the pained breathing of my sleeping partner, has nothing to do with those earlier dangers.No.The entire reason for this writing is to spread awareness of a growing threat.Voidsent.Now for those who can count themselves lucky enough to not run into one yet, a Voidsent is a being of corrupted aether coming from a whole plane of such corruption. Everynow and then through chance or design our planes rub a bit much and tear. Leading to the creation of a Voidgate or an opening that lets them slip through. And I do mean by design as well. Some select few think it's a good idea to bring over corrupted beings starving for aether and thus do their best to create such tears.But as for how I found myself in my current state, that would be thanks to the Free Company I am a part of. The Invictus Company. We are a gleaner-based acquisition group that can usually be found in Ul'dah or Ishgard. Taking all kinds of work from acquisition, deliveries, and mercenary work. Now that I've got that little bit of promotion to keep my boss from coming after me, we can get to what would end with our party of eight left limping and maimed.As if it had simply appeared overnight, a Voidgate had formed in the Western Highlands of Coerthas, and the company had been requested to seal or destroy said gate. No big deal. Any adventurer worth their salt has cleared out some dungeon or location with void presence. Also per usual the Intel on them was spotty. Even still, we met in advance, organized a formation, and headed out….only to immediately have everything go wrong.A late arrival managed to keep us from being ambushed by packs of void-kin that even still managed to come close to breaking our formation. If it hadn't been for our frontliner pushing through the group in front of us, and a bit of my own daring spellcraft to stop the group behind us, I might not be writing this account. A gate that had only appeared recently had poured out swarms of the vile creatures. Hellhounds came at us from all sides while a massive Gargoyle guarded the gate. Without the guidance of our Company leader, the daring work of our frontliner and my own partner, and the specialist we brought to close the gate myself and my fellow mages would have been overrun.But that gate is now closed. The remaining voidsent are either dispersed or ended. However, this is a growing problem. As a long time Void Hunter I can safely say that these gates are appearing more and more. Now I must conclude this and check on my partner.For now, be careful adventurers. There are many stories out there, but all stories must end.Don't let them be yours.