A song in the sails
From the verdant trees of the Twelveswoods, to the warm sands of Thanalan, and over the tides of the Rhotano Sea to the white walls of Limsa Lominsa…
Lyrian awoke with a jump. It wasn't the first time he had nightmares, but this one was particularly unpleasant. Fighting a creepy man in dark robes that reeked of darkness wasn't his definition of a sweet dream, especially if it left him with the gut feeling something bad was about to happen. Dreams were meant to fade when you woke up.
The Duskwight grumbled. He had nothing against the rolling and, in fact, he found it rather soothing. It also made him hungry. He took his knapsack and dug a ginger biscuit. A little away, a merchant in red dress was trying in vain to strike a conversation with a pair of Elezen twins. This made him smile. The kids looked no older than sixteen, not even grown adults yet.
Not that he had any room to complain. At nineteen, he had just finished his own growth and was standing a little over seven feet, as tall as a full-grown Roegadyn. Combine this with a deep bass-baritone voice, ashen skin, silver hairs and vibrant purple eyes and Lyrian was pretty much your archetypal Duskwight. Except most of his kin was bandits and he was a bard, just like the man who had raised him after the Calamity.
Lyrian didn't remember anything before the cataclysm. Whatever had happened to him during Bahamut's temper tantrum had left him a physical and mental mess. Jehantel had been clear on the matter: that he wasn't physically crippled was a miracle given the blood he'd found the boy covered with. Sure, he was amnesiac, but others had suffered much worse fates. Even better, the amnesia was temporary. Slowly, drop after drop, Lyrian's memories were returning. The first one to return had been his mother's voice soothing him to sleep. The Duskwight had good hopes the remaining missing pieces would return within the next two years. Not that much was missing, now.
What annoyed him was that the still missing parts were the most important. His hometown's name, as well as the names and faces of his parents and family members, the name of that Hellsguard Roegadyn with whom he spent most of his time as a child – his best friend. Why couldn't he recall his best friend!? Anyway, it was getting on his nerves. Taking a breath, he decided to get out. He needed to clear his head. The merchant followed him.
"I get it the kids are bad company?"
"Aye." The man sighed. "Not very talkative, that's fer sure. Are ye fine, by the way? Saw ya trash in yer sleep…"
"Just a nightmare. It happens. The roil was soothing."
"Eh, yer lucky it dinna gave ya sea-sickness. Not the first time gettin' on a ship?"
"Well… It's the first time, actually." Lyrian shrugged. "I grew up in the Black Shroud. Vesper Bay was the first time I saw the sea. It made me feel peaceful."
The merchant laughed.
"Then ye be feelin' just fine in Limsa Lominsa! Simple question, though: why did ye leave? I heard life in Gridania's pretty quiet."
Lyrian winced and looked away. It was a little more than a week since Foulques had died, and the wound was still fresh.
"I was exiled for hitting a Padjal."
The merchant made an about-turn.
"Ya hit a Padjal? Those horned folks that commune with the elements and rule the city?"
"I was trying to heal someone and they told me to stop because his death was the will of the Elementals. By the time I was done arguing, Foulques had died, so I got angry and slapped O-App-Pesi across the face. Kan-E-Senna kicked me from the city for it and I told them good riddance. Now, between Ishgard's isolationism and Ul'Dah's corruption, Limsa Lominsa was pretty much the only city-state left for me to go."
The merchant whistled.
"Yer lucky them dinna have ya killed."
"Funnily enough, the same Elementals that let Foulques die insisted that I was kicked from the Twelveswood. Had it been anyone else, it would have been death but, for some reasons, the fey spirits personally declared that my fate was to be exile. I remember Kan-E-Senna listening to them before calling the sentence. No one could believe someone who hurt a Padjal could get away with his life but, well, no Gridanian worth his salt is stupid enough to argue with a spirit of the Woods. So, here I am."
The merchant nodded.
"That's quite the past, ya got. That Foulques guy, was he a friend or…"
Lyrian looked away, uneasy. He didn't really know how to answer.
"He was… It's complicated. He was someone who has suffered a lot, and I was the only one trying to soothe his pain. The others treated him like a criminal. I tried to save him…"
His eyes clouded with tears at the memory. It hurt. A lot. It hurt so much…
"I could have saved him! I was about to save him! I had prevented him from falling in a chasm, and he was crying in my chest… All the pain, all the anger in him had found an outlet and he was releasing it all, and we were going to confront the authorities on how they mishandling him had turned him into a criminal in the first place and it was their fault all this mess had happened… But then! But then… one of the Wood Wailers threw his spear in his back. It didn't kill him on the spot, but the wound was severe. I got so mad I took the spear and threw it at the Wood Wailer. It struck his heart. Then I tried to heal Foulques, but O-App-Pesi stopped me and he… He…"
Tears fell freely as Lyrian relived the scene once more. Foulques had uttered a thank you before passing away, grateful of Lyrian's efforts to help him.
"I couldn't save him! They stopped me. That's unfair! He didn't deserve to die!"
The merchant nodded pensively, fully understanding the Duskwight's grief. He watched him cry over the rail. Obviously, the young man had been bottling his feelings for awhile. Lyrian sniffled and whipped his nose.
"Feelin' better, lad?"
"Yes. You're the first person I'm sharing that story with. I… didn't really mean to, but I guess I needed to get it out."
"Sure looked like it weighted on yer heart somethin' big."
"Yeah… Speaking of big, what's that?"
Silhouettes appeared one by one on the horizon. One of the sailors gave it a look before jumping back.
"Llymlaen helps us! Pirates!"
The merchant's reaction was to gawk like a fish. Lyrian's reaction was to take his weapon, a bow whose shape made it also a harp, and notch an arrow.
"If they want my riches, they'll have to kill me for it. I am going to kill them first."
The pirates fired several times, cannonballs hitting close to the ship. The merchant ducked safely as a sailor came to them.
"Get inside! You will be safer here."
"I am a bard and former member of the Lancer's Guild." Lyrian retorted. "I know how to fight, and I fully intend to do so."
The sailor took a good look at the Duskwight. The man was a bit taller than him, clad in outlandish blue, white and red clothes. His boots were a deep crimson shade while his top and pants seemed to have some kind of scale armor. The burning spark of trained fighters shone in his eyes.
"Very well, sir. If they get too close, feel free to send any of these sons of fishes to the Seven Hells."
"It will be my pleasure…"
Fortunately, the wind was with them and the pirate ships never got close enough that Lyrian had to demonstrate his skills. Once the ship was safe and the harbor was in sight, the red merchant returned to the deck.
"Ya got nerves o' steel, lad. To stay with the crew to fight those bastards…"
"I've seen worse odds than that."
"Well, I'm not gonna ask. Still, pirates hittin' Lominsan ships in broad daylight… Where goes the world?"
Lyrian didn't answer. He just wanted to recover his memories.
"…To be truly honest, I'm amnesiac. Something happened during the Calamity that made me lose all my memories. They've been coming back for the past five years, but it's not really enough to tell me who I am. I know my name is Lyrian Sombréclipse and I'm nineteen, but when I awoke in the Twelveswood, this was as far as they went."
"Nineteen… This would mean ye were only fourteen when the Calamity struck? Hey, but yer pretty young!"
"Younger than I look, I know."
The merchant laughed.
"I thought ye were in yer late twenties at least and ya haven't even hit 'em yet! Ha! So, first time settin' to Limsa Lominsa?"
"Yes. I traveled to Ul'Dah to learn fist-fighting and some thaumaturgy, and across the Dravanian lands with my master in a quest for a legendary song. I was sixteen at the time. But I never went to Limsa Lominsa, and the less we speak of Ishgard, the better. I don't know which is the coldest." The Duskwight joked. "Ishgardian weather or Ishgardian temper!"
The merchant laughed along.
"True that! Been to Ishgard once or twice. The folks don't like foreigners, that's fer sure! So about Limsa Lominsa, sit down and listen, lad. I happen to know the city like the back of me hand…"
They talked until the ship docked at last. Thanks to the merchant, Brennan, he mostly knew the city's layout and where to find what he wanted, as well as the city's history. Brennan even gave him a small ring as a parting gift. Lyrian's next step was to locate the aetheryte and attune with it. If he was going to make Limsa Lominsa his home, attuning to the stone was mandatory. No sooner was he done that a Yellowjacket accosted him.
"Hey, you! I don't recall seeing you around. Are you new?"
"I just arrived." Lyrian explained. "I'm a bard."
"A bard, eh? One of those wandering minstrels singing songs and telling tales to those who want to hear them…"
"I'm looking to settle in Limsa Lominsa. I… don't really have anywhere else to go at the moment."
The Yellowjacket laughed.
"I hope you know more than knight tales then, because we ain't the kind to sing for pretty knights in shining armor!"
"Oh, I know. I think I got a few sea shanties up my playlist. Something to drunkenly sing along to. Besides, I am not a minstrel. When I say I am a bard, I mean I'm one of those archers who sing during battle to motivate troops. I am… better than you would expect with a bow. Much better."
The Yellowjacket's eyes widened.
"You're a fighter as well? That pretty face and exotic clothes could've fooled me! Well, if you got skills with a bow, I'm pretty sure you'll find some targets around. We're always taking volunteers for pest control."
"As long as I can afford a meal, I'm good. I don't mind sleeping under the stars, but starving is out of question."
The Yellowjacket nodded.
"Very well. Go up to the Drowning Wench and talk to Baderon. You don't seem to be an adventurer, so no need to sign up, but if you offer your talents as a singer, I guess he won't mind giving you a spot. We Lominsans are always ready for some fun."
Listening to the man's indications, Lyrian set to the inn. Baderon was a brown-haired man in his forties, clad in green and brown and spotting a white bandana. All in all, the archetypal Lominsan sailor.
"Greetin's to ye, lad. What'll it be?"
"Some orange juice, a spot as a singer if you need one and the names of people who could use a handyman, or maybe even a hunter."
Baderon raised his head and raised a brow at the sight of the outlandish Duskwight.
"Ye sure yer not an 'venturer?"
"No. Just a bard looking to settle in Limsa Lominsa and find a stable job."
Baderon nodded. He could see the white harp in the Elezen's back.
"A singer, uh? Aye, the Drownin' Wench could use an 'tertainer. But ye better not be singin' flat or me patrons be hoistin' ya from the yardarm!"
"Then, will you be satisfied with a demonstration?"
"Go ahead, lad."
As he prepared the juice, Lyrian sat in a corner, took his harp and began to sing a lively tune.
Out on the endless ocean,
We tear along the gales
With rum inside our bellies warn
And freedom in our sails.
A wayward bunch o' scoundrels,
Assassins, thieves and slaves,
The rich and blue blood fear us
When we hunt upon the waves!
And when you see it coming,
That flag of baleful black,
No point in turning tales,
There's no escaping our attack!
Baderon and most patrons turned to the Duskwight, eyes wide.
"Beneath the Black Flag", a song famous among pirates during their golden age. The song was old and few sang it nowadays, especially now Merlwyb was cracking down hard on piracy, but it was still heard once in awhile. It was also very catchy. Now, where did the Elezen learn it?
Lyrian kept singing, oblivious to people's surprise, merely happy to partake in his craft.
Someone sang along, a Lalafell with a high-pitched voice who wielded a pair of knives.
Defy the odds against us,
A pirate knows no fear,
Our steel is ready and
Our retribution is severe.
We plunder from the greedy
With blood and with our steel,
We rob the rich of their ill-gotten gains
And make them kneel.
Behold the ocean's mysteries,
The tales of ancient deeds.
We follow in the footsteps of
A silent, secret creed…
A small number of patrons joined the song.
YO-HO! YO-HO!
We row beneath the black flag
A rollickin' we go,
We own the sea and sky!
YO-HO! YO-HO!
We row beneath the black flag
A rollickin' we go,
We bleed the kingdoms dry!
"Hoist the colors, lads!" Someone shouted enthusiastically.
Everyone laughed. Baderon gave Lyrian his cup of juice.
"Congrats' lad. Yer hired."
The Duskwight grinned.
And here we go again. New story, and still no guarantee I'll finish it. But it still got eight chapters so far, so... Let's try out and see how far I'll see this one through.
Anyway, as those who read me already know, I am not a native English speaker, so writting English isn't exactly natural to me. Lominsan accent? This is gonna suck... I'll try my best, but no guarantee I'll get it right all the time, so advices are appreciated.
Otherwise, yes, we got a Miracle of Sound song. Can't help if I'm a fan, and a pirate song for a pirate city seemed fitting. And besides, Lyrian is a bard, so expect songs to pop up once in awhile. It won't be a song fic, though. Don't worry.
As many may have understood, gameplay-wise (because I like to include gameplay mechanisms when I can afford), the Lancer quest line is conplete, but Lyrian having been kicked from Gridania means he didn't become a Dragoon. He is only a Bard (for now...). As for the Bard questline, completed to Lv. 60, but with a twist and it happened years before the story begins. Case in point, the armor Lyrian is wearing is the Torrent Aiming set, which means he at least crossed Dravania.
I think I covered everything. I may update tomorrow or soon after. Until then...
See you soon.
