Prologue - A Prisoner of the Judges
The ravines edge yawned before them: steep, treacherous, and shadowed in darkness. Finley felt a slight tremble run through his body as he cautiously peered over, desperately wishing once more that he hadn't taken the mercenary parties gil for this assignment.
"Do the heights fear you so much lad?" The brash voice of the group's leader, Veetra, a burly, grey-haired Highlander, sounded out as he tromped towards him with a careless confidence. "You should have said, we'd have paid you less!" He boomed with laughter that echoed across the ravine, scaring a few nesting birds into motion from the treeline
Finley turned back, his slender Viera ears twitching as they often did when he was nervous. The treeline, just a few dozen footsteps away beckoned invitingly for him to run and hide in. "I'm not afraid." He managed in a squeaky denial. "I just er…think the view is better here" and he stepped firmly back from the edge.
Veetra slapped him heartily on the back with a guffaw, causing Finley to stumble back a step towards the edge. It took all his composure to not turn and flee to the safety of the trees behind them.
"Don't tease the guide Veet." The party's mage, a diminutive, flaxen-haired Lalafell called Bennet, picked his way out of the undergrowth to admire the view alongside them. "He's the one with the special skills you've always been 'short' on." Was that a snigger in his voice, Finley wondered?
Veetra chuckled again and gave the Lalafell a mock salute with one finger before they both turned to look out across the ravines edge.
Finley watched closely behind, his heart starting to calm. He enjoyed watching people, even in such unusual circumstances. The mage – calm, stoic, and centered. The leader – passionate, burly, and absently rubbing one callused finger carefully across the edge of the half-moon axe buckled to his belt. After a few moments of thought, Veetra then spared a sideways look back at the watching Finley.
"Well, he did lead us here…but I'm not convinced his self-professed ability to understand any language will come in handy here." The mercenary leader offered Finley a wicked wink at that.
"H…hey." Finley squeaked again; Gods he wished his voice didn't betray his nerves so casually. "I led you here, didn't I? Nobody knows these jungles like me!"
It was a truthful boast at that, for the Golmore Jungle was vast, untamed, and dangerous. However, Finley had spent the last thirty years exploring his way across the three continents with an inquisitive nature disdained by most of his fellow male Viera. He had wandered from Doma to the Sea of Clouds exploring and cataloging things mentally with a prodigious mind for detail.
Along with a fine sense of direction, Finley also seemed to have a blessing for good luck; he had a knack for finding unusual things, lost Allagan ruins, rare tomestones and other bits and bobs. Typically, he would trade these relics, or information thereabouts at local towns and villages that helped him pay his way and spare some gil to send home to his tribe, whom he hadn't seen in many years.
Out of all the natural wonders of the world, the Golmore Jungle fascinated him the most. The never-ending noise, the moist, wonderfully fresh air, and the near complete absence of other people. He tried to return here regularly, to seek out mindfulness for a few weeks at a time, particularly after stressful times, such as a near run-in with an Imperial patrol for example. At least when he was deep in the jungle, with not a person for leagues around, there was no risk of a bizarre vision seizing him suddenly, with no reason. This had happened on rare occasions where he had first started out and made the mistake of visiting larger settlements.
It was on his latest sojourn to the Golmore Jungle that he had stumbled across one of his greatest finds and mysteries. Returning to the nearby trading post of Lea Monde it had taken only two days before he found a group of self-declared adventurers (roving mercenaries to Finley's mind) interested in the potential riches within. Better yet…they paid in advance.
"Hux, is the airship tethered securely?" Veetra was shouting into his link pearl, his voice cutting through the natural sounds of the jungle.
Finley did not hear the response but knew the groups 'requisitioned' Garlean gunship was waiting half a league back in a small clearing Finley had directed them to. Finley once more thanked the Gods that he now had his own method of air travel, a second-hand, one-person manacutter he had picked up while visiting the newly opened Ishgard last year.
There was a current craze for the small, one-person airships with newer, more powerful models being constantly exported in ever greater numbers from Eorzea. Finley's was an older model with a low flight ceiling which he would hide at a remote location before exploring for weeks on end before moving on. His manacutter had proved a wonderful shake up to his explorations, and the exhilaration of flight had overcome his tentative fear of heights. On learning that the group had access to an airship of their own, he had offered to lead them by air, saving a significant overland expedition.
"Well, just keep the engines warm." Veetra responded to the groups pilot via linkpearl. "If we run into any trouble, you'll be coming in to get us!"
The final two members of Veetra's group (other than Hux who had remained with the groups gunship) appeared out of the treeline. One was a keen eyed Miqo'te with a wood bow slung over her shoulder, the other was a hulking Roegadyn bearing a sack bulging with huge coils of rope on one shoulder, and a large sword slung over the other.
Both joined their comrades and gaped down into the depths of the ravine. Finley mustered his courage and walked slightly closer for another look.
The cliffs fell away into a scar on the unbroken verdant greenery of the Golmore Jungle, the ground torn away into a deep, dark cut that seemed a malm deep. Across the gap, probably only two hundred paces away, old, gnarled trees clung to the opposite side of the ravine, grappling for purchase on the steep slope. But it was the prize deep below which Veetra's band were trying to search out.
From the heights, it looked to Finley's keen eyes like some ancient, Allegan airship of some sorts. A large, bulky, twisted superstructure now tangled with greenery, vines, and shrubs; almost hidden fully from sight by the deep shadows of the ravine edge. Finley wondered if it were the airship that had once cut this ravine into the Golmore long, long ago…or if the craft had simply had the misfortune to crash into the natural depths before them.
He had not ventured down into the shadows to visit it, but he knew the potential value of such a find. Allagan artifacts commanded a high price across most of the civilised world.
Veetra cleared his throat, rousing the group from their individual thoughts. "Scral, support the ropes to that tree for our descent." The Roegadyn moved to comply as Veetra winked at Bennet at the Miqo'te. "Let's go earn our pay day lads!"
Finley shuddered again, a feeling of unease gripped him – he could almost feel the trees whispering…something to him, but what?
"Well…" He stammered taking a half step back as Scral started unwinding the hefty rope from his shoulder. "I've er…done my part here…I'll be heading back to my manacutter now..."
Veetra threw back his head with a hearty laughter and Finley's keen eyes saw the slight hand gesture to his group, who then mimicked the laugh. The leader solicitously slung a hand around Finley shoulders (which wasn't easy, considering Finely was a good bit taller than him). "Nonsense lad, we can't go without our guide! Now you said you can understand a lot of languages, right? Might need your help down there."
He winked broadly at Finley, offering a thumbs down into the depths below. In the background, Finley could see the Miqo'te sharpening an arrow-shaft with a small knife she had suddenly produced…the juxtaposition of (what could be) a veiled threat, and the jovial manner of the mercenary leader sent a shiver through Finley's slender back.
"O…okay." He managed, hanging his head and ears in dismay.
For all of Finley's fears, the descent proved easier than he had feared. Veetra's group were clearly well practiced in this sort of manoeuvre and worked well as a group. The light footed Miqo'te (whose name Finley had yet to overhear) led the way, calling out hazards, and nimbly leaping down from outcropping to outcropping. Veetra came up next, his heavier gait carefully testing each foothold before gesturing the rest of them down, strung out of the line behind him.
Finley was sandwiched near the back, just behind the Lalafell mage Bennet, with the heavyset Scral bringing up the rear. The Roegadyn's heavy breathing as he laboured down the ravine always sounding ever so close to Finley's sensitive ears.
Finley slipped once or twice, but the clever buckles the group had festered to the thick safety cable helped arrest what could have been a fatal fall to the foot of the ravine.
As they descended, the trees appeared to Finley's eyes more twisted and blackened, the temperature dipped, and the jungle sounds, normally reassuringly constant, died away. The ancient Allagan airship came more and more into detail, its gnarled mould covered hull bent and shadowed from the light of the sun in the crater. It increasingly seemed more and more menacing to Finley's nervous mind.
Finally, they reached the bottom, landing directly on the main superstructure of the ship. Veetra was down before Finley, landing with a loud metallic bang which produced more hearty laughter from him and the crew. When Finley landed, he nearly slipped on the smooth section of the hull. His natural Viera grace seemed to have temporarily deserted him.
Finally, they were all down, Scral landing with a hollow crash that sent a flock of bats noisily into the air. One by one they disconnected from the heavy-duty safety rope, Veetra and the Miqo'te moving further up the plating, drawn by something they had spotted on their descent.
Bennet the Lalafell remained where he was, fiddling with his small wooden staff which bore a simple gemstone at its crest. He caught Finley watching him and hawked, before spitting a glob of green phlegm to the surface. Noticing Finley continuing to stare, he offered a feigned apologetic shrug, "I just hope the bosses' instincts are on the money, don't want another 'Isle of Val' incident all over again." He turned and moved off towards the rest of the group further up the ship's hull.
Finley stayed for a moment, rubbing the greyish outer hull of the airship with one foot; It seemed like no Allagan material he had come across before. His eye was suddenly caught by some faded colour peeking through the mould spread across the hull. Absently he knelt and picked away the moss with his finger to reveal a faded circle filled with blue and green splodges, the coloured circle surrounded by some faded yellow stars.
"Oy, Finley get up here!" Veetra's voice boomed through his moment of peace and his trail of thought was abandoned. Finley rose swiftly and without looking back picked his way across the hull to where the group surrounded a large gash in the hull.
"What do you reckon made that?" Bennet pointed at the deep cut through the outer hull, and the group turned to look at him expectantly.
"Ah…there are Chimeras in this part of the Golmore." Finley felt his ears fidgeting back and forth as he studied the gash. "Assuming the damage wasn't on impact."
Veetra grunted and motioned to Scral, who had already pulled forth his impressively sized sword. "See what you can do Scral, might be our entrance way."
Using the sword handle like a wedge, Scral pushed and heaved at the warped hull, steadily widening the opening from Lalafell size until it was just large enough for the group to all drop through.
Without needing a prompt, the Miqo'te slipped forwards and peered down with her sharp eyes, a moment later she hoped down and vanished into the darkness. Finley gasped, but then her voice drifted up. "It's just a short way down, seems stable enough!"
Scral produced another furl of rope from his seemingly empty shoulder sack. Bending down to the warped hull he tugged with pure brute strength, broad muscles knotting until he had twisted it back to form a lever which he could carefully fasten the rope around while Veetra watched impassively.
Finley found himself staring at the Highlander when suddenly,
Flicker,
a great red moon filled the sky above a great battle, wretched screams filled the air and overhead a red banner, the banner of the Mealstorm flapping defiant…
He clutched his head, as a blinding wall of pain rolled over him.
He sensed Veetra approach and felt his heavy hand on his shoulder, Finley managed to look up as waves of nausea rolled through his head, which seemed to clear slightly at the genuine look of concern on the mercenary leader's face. "You alright lad?" He asked gruffly.
"Yes…yes…" Finley steadied his breathing as he had taught himself to do so when the visions struck, the pain slowly started to recede, his head still throbbing. "Sometimes…I get these…visions, I think of peoples past, its only for a moment…"
"And what did you see?" Veetra asked as Bennet tested the rope and disappeared down the hole.
Haltingly, Finley described the vision, it must have only lasted bare moments, but he could still hear the screams…the screams had been so vivid.
Veetra offered a pained chuckle when Finley stopped. "Sounds like the Battle of Carteneau to me lad, I was there with Scral and Hux too, part of the Maelstroms division holding the right flank of the army against the Imperial Magitek division…aye a terrible day to be sure."
Finley said nothing, and after a moment Veetra continued absently, his eyes far away. "We fled when Dalamud unleashed Bahumut…me and Scrawl teamed up, found our way to the free cities in the east, met up with Bennet and Kieria – fellow Carteneau survivors and we've been making our way together ever since."
Their eyes now locked until Finley awkwardly dropped his gaze to the mossy plates. The moment passed and Veetra rose, turned, and moved towards the gash in the hull as Scral heaved himself down with a crash below.
"Come on then!" Veetra loudly gestured to Finley. "Earn your keep and you'll never have to see us again."
Reluctantly Finley moved over to the edge and peered down expecting darkness. Instead, he saw the three other mercenaries just a few yalms below, illuminated by a ball of flame resting in the Lalafells hand, casting a warm, flickering light over a stark, interior passageway of some sorts.
After a final moments hesitation (and aware that Veetra was between himself and the rope line back up to the forest level) Finley judged the distance and leapt down, landing deftly on the cold metallic surface.
It was even colder inside the dark passageway. All the surfaces were metallic, speckled with dark patches of mold and moss where the rain had penetrated through the gash. What limited light there was from above was momentarily cut out as Veetra lowered himself carefully on the rope to join his gang.
"This is like no Allagan ship I've seen Veet." Scrawl murmured; his deep voice surprisingly soft for one so large.
"Aye, a bad feel to this one." The Miquo'te chimed in, her sharp eyes shifting from side to side.
"Calm down, all of you." Veetra pulled a stick device from his belt and a moment later it cast a wan red light to join Bennet's magelight illuminating the local area. "Remember that shipwreck off the Indigo Deep? That was bad, why Scrawl you saved my life at least thrice from those darn voidsent and this by contrast – well I don't see a critter in sight!"
Finley shuddered, looking around in the gloom. In one direction, the passageway buckled and had been crushed in from either side, being completely impassable. The other way extended into the gloom out of sight.
'…?'
Suddenly, he felt a distant presence brush briefly against his mind.
It was gone in bare moment, a whispered, distant probe at best and then it had faded.
He looked around every which way, ears pivoting wildly drawing the attention of the group.
"Spirits caught your tongue?" Bennet wryly asked. He and Veetra certainly seemed the most comfortable out of the group.
"I thought…I thought I felt something just now…" Finley stammered, trying to restart his breathing exercises again. "Maybe I should just stay here…and…"
"Nonsense!" Veetra's hand slapped him heartly on the back, his voice booming around the passageway and Finley stumbled forwards once more. "This is the main event pal, no cold feet now." He gestured into the darkness. "Bennet, lead the way."
The mage advanced into darkness, magelight held atop his one-handed staff, Scrawl and the Miiqo'te followed with the reluctant Finley and Veetra bringing up the rear.
For a few moments they walked in near silence, the only noise being that of their footsteps scudding on the metal. Somewhere, Finley could hear water dripping and he continued his steady breathing exercises. Over the years he had felt other minds brush his before but there had been something…calculating and malevolent about this presence, something he deeply disliked.
The shadows loomed up before them as Bennet's magelight reflected off a cold, dark door. Above which there were some large, strange symbols stamped in gold.
"You're the language specialist." Veetra shoved Finley forwards roughly, "What are we heading for?"
Finley steadied himself and looked up, feeling a frown cross his face as he studied the strange symbols. "Ah…its nothing I immediately recognize, certainly not Allagan script or any of the other common languages."
"I thought you said you could understand any language?" Bennet chided with a sharp look.
"I can understand any spoken language." Finley replied, still staring at the symbols, trying to understand them. "At least with most written languages I can understand basics…or what language they are…but this…I'm not sure, sorry..." Again, to the right side of the symbols was the blue sphere speckled with green colours (islands?), less faded than the one outside, surrounded by more printed stars.
"Told you we should have paid him less." Bennet snorted to Veetra who in turn gestured to Scrawl.
"Think you can open it?" He challenged his taller colleague.
The Roegadyn moved forwards and Finley awkwardly stumbling to one side. With both hands, Scrawl gripped along the central grove of the door. His muscles knotted once more, and his teeth clenched together as he strained against the metal. Then with a deafening roar of effort the two sides of the door were flung aside.
He stood there panting for a moment as Bennet and the Miqo'te slipped past into the darkness beyond. Veetra motioned for Finley to follow them.
They had moved into a much larger room which to Finley's amazement had some operating lights. Around the edge of the room there were dull red panels that cast a wan glow like Veetra's glowstick.
The light also helped show up the bodies strewn around the room.
The Miqo'te was already examining the closest one which lay crumpled next to a fallen chair near the door they had entered from. Finley nervously edged closer, peeking over the back of her slender frame as Veetra and Bennet moved in closer to examine the corpse.
The body looked Hyur in shape and form, but had been clearly dead a long time, the body shrunken and a shriveled within a shiny, black tunic of some unknown material. The groups eyes were all drawn however to the large, golden shoulder pauldrons.
"Twelve be good…is that…" The Miqo'te whispered.
"Gold? Aye." Bennet replied, tapping the oversized pauldrons which made the reassuring ting of 'money'. Each shoulder pauldron was huge, and shimmered with gold luster, the left being relatively plain (if overlarge), the right was crafted in the shape of a bird of prey, perhaps a griffin? They looked oversized and awkward on the decaying corpse.
"Certainly, looks impressive and impractical, not quite the Allagan style mind." Scrawl murmured, sliding up to join the group.
"And check the belt too!" Bennet was fingered an otherwise plain belt with a hand sized golden badge the size of his hand. The badge was again a likeness of a griffin. Within the gold bird was a square of red and white stripes alongside three stars on a blue background.
Finley looked away, and saw other bodies strewn around the room, a few slumped over other chairs, others just spread across the floor. Several others had the gold elements to their wear, but many others looked more plainly dressed in olive and grey tunics. Between the magelight, dead bodies and the red glowing panels…Finely shivered, it was a disquieting sight. Was this some sort of ancient control room he wondered?
Despite his nerves, he slowly drifted away from the mercenaries as they continued to talk eagerly about profit. Scrawl was already starting to unfasten the golden segments of armour to refill his shoulder bag. Finley for his part continued to try and understand this room, if it was a control room, where were the windows? What was the power source that was producing the red lighting, how long had this airship (and Finley was starting to have doubts about it being an airship at all) been here?
He was halfway across the room when he felt that other mind brush past him again. A distant word that passed through his mind.
'Hun…gry…'
Finley froze, apart from his ears which swiveled left and right. Then, ignoring the noisy chat from the excited mercenaries he noticed a half-opened set of doors close to him, two decaying bodies to either side.
Feeling strangely…compelled, he moved closer, straining his eyes to try and see through the shadows beyond. Against his better judgement, he slipped through the gap between the doors into the darkness beyond.
Allowing a moment for his eyes to better adjust, he first noted more dead bodies on either side of the door. These bodies bore the golden griffins atop their shoulders, staring lifelessly up at the dark ceiling. Behind these bodies, stark, silver bars dissected the room from floor to ceiling, these bars in turn were intersected in an 'X' by two long fabric banners. As Finley moved curiously closer, he noticed to his disquiet, that the runes inlaid on the banner glowed a faint green as if alive.
His brain screamed at him to stop walking closer to the bars, but he was…drawn by some unknowing curiosity. He could almost…make out some sort of motion beyond the bars. Something glimmering and bobbing from side to side in the gloom, three glowing lights of some sorts...
His hand rose, unbidden to the conjoining of the two rune banners – they looked faded, fragile…he had an overwhelming urge to tug them free…
Then there was a sudden screech of metal behind him, and he leapt back from the bars.
Veetra was forcing his bulk through the half-opened doors which Scrawl was pulling wider aside.
"Found something lad?" The mercenary grinned, his gaze taking in Finley and the bars behind. "What's this, some sort of ships gaol?"
The Miqo'te slipped in under Scrawl's arms as he labored to pull the doors more fully wide. Her sharp eyes focused into the gloom beyond the bannered bars. "There's something in there Veet…" She cautioned.
Veetra pushed past Finley and walked up to the bars, holding aloft his glowstick, looking to penetrate the gloom as Finley watched, seized with anticipation.
There was a horse whisper, a rattle of wind and a flickering shadow drifted forward, floating whispery above the ground.
Veetra took a half step back towards his fellow mercenaries, hand falling to his axe as Finley remained rooted in place.
The…creature fluttered against the bars, incorporeal and whispery, a presence wreathed in grey shadows of similar height to Finley. At the creature's apex there were three, dull yellow lights which dimly shone – were they eyes of some sort?
"What is it…?" Scrawl breathed, now fully in the room, standing alongside Veetra and the Miqo'te.
"Well guide!?" Veetra asked, his hand moving away from the axe as the creature fluttered passively along the bars.
"Well…it could be a voidsent…but I'm er…not sure," Finley stammered, continuing to watch this creature. Surely an incorporeal being like this could pass through the bars. Was the banner of runes some sort of warding spell keeping this voidsent in captivity?
As Finley spoke, the creature suddenly stopped bobbing from side to side and its three yellow eyes(?) fixed on Finley, who felt a shiver run up his spine.
'You…you I understand…yes…yes, you will release us.'
It had no mouth to move, but Finley 'heard' the words whispered across the room. It sounded akin to a dozen people talking at once, a jumble of age, sex and accents mixed together.
"What did it say!?" Veetra asked urgently next to him. "Did you understand it?"
"It…it understands me" Finley squeaked. "It wants us to free it."
"I just heard a strange jumble of murmuring…" The Miqo'te rubbed an ear thoughtfully.
Finley took a reluctant half step closer to the bars, curiosity overcoming fear. "What are you?" He asked hesitatingly. "Why are you imprisoned in here?"
The creatures shadowy frame flickered and broiled around like a thunderstorm, only its three yellowed 'eyes' remained motionless on Finley. 'We are Occuria…undying, immortal, perfection…rejected by mortals we guided for eons, imprisoned…exiled into the void to be destroyed.'
An image was suddenly forced into Finley's mind, it showed the ship flying through a sea of stars approaching something that glowed and trembled the very filament. A realisation was placed in his mind; this was some area of unimaginable pressures which would swallow and destroy anything that crossed its threshold. Even Gods.
'We fashioned an intervention in the void.' The Occuria continued, Finley suddenly realised the jumble of voices had now been replaced with just two whispery ones, a male and the other female. 'But rather than deliverance, we were stranded, imprisoned still, far from home.'
Finley hesitantly repeated the Occuria's words to the mercenaries.
"Occuria…never heard of them!" Bennet had joined the group as Finley was speaking. He eyed the creature beyond the bars warily. "From another star it sounds, no business of ours, we should leave."
"Agreed." The Miqo'te nodded firmly. "Veet, we should get out of here, leave this…this thing here."
The creature swished on the air from side to side suddenly as if in agitation.
'For too long have we been trapped, able to gaze but not influence this star. To see the endless cycle of ruin, of life and death. Yet over the eons the seals of this prison have weakened. Now mortals stand before us, we will not…be denied.'
A compulsion washed over Finley and his head span, he clutched at his ears as a sharp keening noise cut through the room. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the rest of the group in similar spasms of pain and anguish. Next to him Veetra, his eyes rolling wildly in his sockets took one halting step towards the bars, then another…and then with a single motion his arm reached forwards and with one sharp tug, tore the runed banner in twain.
The sharp keening noise instantly stopped, and the group gasped, released from the compulsion. Finley was vaguely aware of Bennet retching noisily at the back of the room as Veetra stumbled back from the bars, staring at his hand in sudden disbelief.
"What in seven hells did you do that for!?" The Miqo'te gasped, her tail erect in fear.
"What…what happened?" Veetra only mumbled in response, still staring at his hand. Finley saw the whites of his eyes stark in their socket.
The Occuria rippled through the air, and slowly passed through the bars. As it did, its outline wavered and the creature convulsed and withered as it passed slowly through, before emerging to float in place before Veetra.
'Ahhhhhh…' It breathed out greedily, and Finley had an overwhelming sensation of satisfaction and joy wash over him. 'Cursed judges and their silver bars…but we are free again…and might serve once more, serve…so that we can return home…'
None of the group asked Finley for a translation, but Veetra, perhaps in an agony of guilt ripped his axe free from his belt and with furious bellow brought it slicing down on the Occuria's form…
…and it simply passed through the creature's form and Veetra stumbled, off balance, falling to his knees before the Occuria that loomed up before him, yellow eyes balefully staring down.
'We will serve…tell us mortal.' It swished down closer to Veetra. 'Tell us what you desire...'
"What's it saying!?" Veetra tried to scramble back on his hindquarters, crasping the axe with one hand.
"It…it's asking what you desire!" Finley stammered out as he cowered in place.
"Nothing save it bugger off!" Veetra rose back to his feet panting, holding the axe firm as the Occuria swished back in forth, in amusement Finley thought in a sudden moment of clarity.
The spectral creature turned in place and its yellow eyes suddenly fastened on Finley, and it suddenly swooped forward causing his stomach to knot and twist with fear.
'Yes…yes you understand us…so we might serve…' It slowly lowered its eyes to Finley's trembling own. 'Tell us mortal…what do you desire?'
Finley suddenly felt a compulsion wash over him, like a warm wave of soothing water and he felt his mind calm, and his lips loosen as he spoke the first thing that came to mind.
"For there to be peace and plenty, for all." He paused for a moment, then continued in the sudden silence. "For our world to be a paradise, where nobody goes hungry or sick. For our summers to be warm and peaceful, our winters short and gentle."
The compulsion rolled off him and his senses returned to normal leaving his brain fogged and confused. Had he really just said that?
'Ahhhhh.' The Occuria rumbled in satisfaction. 'A good wish, a chance to serve indeed!' The creatures' energies and mist form swirled around as it pulled itself upright. 'We will give you the perfect world you want, a true Teleios Kosmos for all, and break the cycle that enchains this star.'
It swished around to face the others, clustered up around the entrance. 'You will take our gift, invite others into our embrace, sate our hunger and bind us to this world.'
Finley remained frozen in horror as a sudden white mist emanated from the Occuria, pouring over the rest of the group. Although he was not directly in the path of the mist, he nevertheless smelt a pungent odor of salt and garlic caused his nostrils to flare, and he covered his mouth against the sudden wracking coughs that came on in a flurry.
For a few moments, the mist drifted and there was only the terrible smell and the coughs of the other mercenaries, but after a few moments the mist and smell faded. The Occuria swiveled its eyes to Finley.
'They will be our harbingers, they will go and spread our grace far and wide so that we might nourish ourselves…and gift our perfection to the world.'
Before Finley could say anything there was a blast of heat and a fireball smashed into the Occuria's head. The creature recoiled with a high-pitched keening noise, swiveled to face Bennet who was advancing with staff held high, Scrawl beside him.
"Not bloody likely." The Lalafell muttered grimly, raising his staff again.
The Occuria swooped forwards with a keening screech, but Bennet didn't flinch. He ceased his advance and leylines glowed in place before lighting cracked and pulsed over the Occuria, and the creature flinched back. A storm of ice now blasted out and the Occuria touched the silver bars at its back, and it screeched again, a horrific assault of high-pitched noise that rebounded round the room.
Bennet redoubled his efforts with more flaring fireballs, the ley-line circle of runes sparkling around him. The heat crackled and the embers sparked of the wall as fireball after fireball rolled into the Occuria's outline.
Finley was closest to the maelstrom of flames and saw the Occuria suddenly jerk towards him, yellow eyes flickering a multitude of colours, then with a gut-wrenching, final screech it imploded into the void and Bennett's next fireball splashed against the silver bars instead.
…And then Finley felt something force itself deep within his mind, something alien, unwelcome and unwanted.
'Now we are one…'
Finley remained frozen in place as the mercenaries looked every other way. Bennet ready in his ley-lines, the Miqo'te with her bow drawn and Scrawl with his sword readied.
Veetra however was still on the ground and was coughing badly, axe dropped on the ground, one hand over his mouth.
"Veet, are you okay?" The Miqo'te was the first to lower her arms and walk over to their coughing leader.
"I'm fine cough cough" Veetra wheezed, offering half a thumbs up. "Just need some blasted clean air."
"Let's withdraw for now." Bennet spoke up, the ley-lines fading but his staff remained ready, his eyes twitching left and right.
Nobody voiced a word of disagreement. Finley wanted to speak up, wanted to tell him that his head burned with a fierce headache, and it felt like something was…burying its way into his spine, yet he remained silent, numb, and followed the group back the way they had come.
Back atop the strange craft, the group surveyed their options. Veetra's coughing had slowed, but his face had gone a curious shade of green.
"We need a proper healer." Scrawl was saying to Bennet as Finley hauled himself out of the break in the ship's hull and breathed in the fresh, wonderfully clean air.
"Fine." Bennet agreed, looking down at Veetra who still seemed dazed and confused. "We all breathed in that stuff, but Veet was the closest, best we get a proper checking over."
"We going to make the dash to Ul'dah then?" The Miqo'te quipped up. "We've got a few contacts there."
"Right, let's get back up the rope then!" Bennet decided, before sparing Finley a curious glance. "You were right by the voidsent…or whatever it was…breathed in at least as much as Veet, you feel alright?"
Finley felt rough; his head was throbbing, his body felt like it was sweating out of every pore, his ears were rooted in place, and he opened his mouth to express this and the words came tumbling out.…
"I'm fine."
Bennet's lips twisted, but he said nothing, turning over to Scrawl. "Stow the loot over the side, you'll need to help Veet up, we'll come back for it."
"But…" Scrawl started, putting a protective hand on the bulging bag of gold armour pieces.
"Ah just stow it, we'll be back." The Miqo'te said harshly, starting up the rope. "Boss has been good to us, lets repay some favours."
Scrawl shrugged and dumped the sack with a loud crash that echoed through the ravine. Then, with surprising tenderness he picked up the burly Highlander and slung him over one shoulder, before starting to haul his way back up the cliff side.
"Well, are you coming bun or not?" Bennet scowled at Finley who was stock still in place. "Once we're up, you can go your own way, just keep your mouth shut about it all."
'Yes, let me see our world…'
"Sure…" Finley stammered, and started to haul himself up, and away from the wrecked craft.
The setting sun bathed the clouds in a crimson glow as Finley's manacutter soared into the sky. His head felt much better now - surely there was nothing to worry about now that he was away from that horrible place.
He turned the steering stick north, no specific destination in mind and adjusted the luftsail in position.
Things were going to be better now.
The Garlean gunship flew at full power west, its powerful engines whining impatiently as it thrashed towards distant Ul'dah.
Veetra sat alone in the cargo hold, his eyes open and unblinking, staring off into the distance, air rattling in and out of his mouth. He had stopped responding to the group shortly after take-off.
At the front of the craft, sat in their respective seats, the rest of the group kept their eyes fixed forwards, Bennet and Scrawl coughing steadily.