Original Ao3 chapter summary:

Hello! Still busy with work and figuring things out for the next main fic chapters, but I do have something for over here! A second batch of various moments from between previous chapters, this time focusing on the ARR Tribe quests— plus a little bit of the hard version of Sastasha for flavor.
Enjoy!

Kobold:

Agreeing to work with the 789th Order meant one had to recognize that they were actually working for the 789th Order.

Tired and hungry and thoroughly sick of performing thankless chores at the Kobold's Dig Site, (including, but not limited to, smashing up oversized Coblyns, sabotaging other Orders' excavation equipment, and swiping the lunchpots from the workers at other sites— all things he was good at, even if many proved ethically dubious) Joker's thoughts come evening were ceaselessly circling on heading back to Revenant's Toll and getting some hot food in his mouth while he still had the wherewithal to lift a spoon to it. Which was why he was not at all surprised to instead be approached with a sheepish request from one of the Dustmen— a particularly gluttonous Kobold named Bo Zu. And not at all for the first time today, either.

Joker bit back a sigh as he listened to Bo Zu's latest tale of woe— which was, of course, more of a story of peckishness and poor choices. The twitching Kobold explained, while furtively glancing over his shoulder between fearful breaths, that he was desperately in need of a fresh assortment of severed hands from a large number of Pygmy Bombs.

The limbs of the bizarre living fireballs were apparently an integral component of some of Acolyte Ba Go's most adoringly hand-crafted explosives, and Bo Zu had personally ruined the last remaining batch by… eating all of the fingers off of them.

A very dangerous act indeed— not so much for the consumption of perpetually combusting volatile gas and whatever else Bombs were made from, but rather for the fact Bo Zu's poor choice of snacky sustenance now marked him as Ba Go's enemy #1. And oh, did the explosives expert know how to hold a grudge…

Bo Zu sniffled pitifully as he clung to Joker's legs.

"Please, adventurer! You must bring fiery fingers to Ba Go's workshop before he comes hunting for Bo Zu! You would not want to see poor Bo Zu burn, would you?!" The beady red eyes behind the Kobold's helmet visor blinked for a hesitant moment, "No, no, you… probably shouldn't answer that."

Deciding to plead the fifth, Joker instead mutely turned on his heel, roughly dislodging the sniveling layabout. He sadly ignored his own rumbling stomach as he descended into the dark depths of the Order's sulfur mines in search of fresh Bombs.

Luckily they hadn't been hard to spot once he'd gone in deep enough— dancing balls of flame tended to stand out in dark tunnels. Joker had cornered one, managing to quickly cut the almost comically stubby arm where it connected to the spherical bulk of the creature's body. Of course, the cackling Bomb had then immediately exploded in his face, the resulting burst of fire singeing his hair and coat and leaving him choking on smoke. But the severed limb, separated before the owner's voluntary self-immolation, had remained intact, exactly as planned.

With a bit more care and a lot more shielding, he'd soon managed to gather himself quite the load of (somehow wriggling?) fiery hands. More than enough to make up for Bo Zu's peculiar appetite… or so he hoped.

Joker juggled one of the glowing appendages still squirming in his hand, staring intently at the tiny flexing digits. As he hauled himself from the exit of the mining shaft and began descending the half-collapsed stairs leading back to the 789th Order Dig Site, he had to confess… he was wondering what was so especially delicious about the red-hot fingers that Bo Zu would risk Ba Go's most infamously incendiary wrath by daring to snack upon them.

Which was a completely stupid line of thought. Joker couldn't speak for Kobold anatomy, but the hand, still softly burning under the surface of the reddened skin, would probably just sear his tongue off at best if he tried to take a bite. Maybe outright kill him if it got as explosive as it did back when it was attached to the rest of the body.

But then again, who knows? Maybe he was missing out on a taste sensation unknown even to the non-Kobold people of Eorzea!

…Unlikely. But the possibility still existed, and therefore was undeniably tantalizing.

Ah, but he shouldn't.

But he was really tempted.

But he really, really shouldn't. But he was so, so, so curious. But…

…Well, what kind of aspiring chef would he be if he didn't, y'know, just give it a teensy little taste…?

Joker had the fingers of the smoldering severed hand halfway to his tongue when Ba Go burst through the wild tangle of shrubs that had taken over the base of the stairs, loudly berating him for how long he had taken. Joker shoved the hand behind his back as swiftly as he could, sweating nervously as the Kobold narrowed his little eyes with suspicion.

"Ah, he's back!" Lieutenant Skaetswys cried out, straightening up from where she had been once again reprimanding the slacking Kobolds draped over half-collapsed scaffolding rather than so much as lifting a hammer to help with repairs. Not that anyone really wanted to see them handling the business ends of any rusty nails.

"Late, late, adventurer is!" Gi Gu snapped, extending his long, spindly fingers demandingly, "You claimed to have experience in thievery— Sneaking, stealing, swiping! Yet here we have been, waiting forever for promised supplies of electrum!"

"I did get some." Joker grumbled, tone a tad whiny from weariness. He hefted a pouch fit to bursting with the shimmering minerals, "Pilfered, purloined, pocketed from the 639th Order, just like you asked."

As he pressed the contents into Gi Gu's eagerly twitching palms, Joker tipped sideways a little, head light from the constant barrage of sulfur fumes that had assailed him for hours as he'd trawled the depths of the U'Ghamaro mines in search of enough quantities to satisfy Gi Gu's endless demands. No wonder the Kobold's categorically worst-performing Order had been exiled to this end of the tunnels.

Skaetswys turned to him, expression growing concerned, "…Ye good there, Joker?" The Roegadyn asked as she peered into his blown-out pupils.

"I think I'm seeing shrimp colors," Joker replied, letting his dizzy head loll back to the glimpses of sky visible between the rocks overhead. He pointed a finger at nothing, "I'm naming that one 'ourple'."

"Oh gods." The Maelstrom Lieutenant muttered, feeling his forehead.

With no concern for the man who had just risked brain damage for his ill-gotten gains, Gi Gu casually tossed Joker's earnings into the large pit at the center of the site with an array of other carelessly lumped minerals.

"Good, good. Now— away with the two of you! Away, leave, be gone!"

And Skaetswys scowled at him, "Wha's the big idea, you lousy lazy-arse lug?! First ye make us do all yer swivin' chores — nearly poisonin' the Warrior o' bleedin' Light in the process—" She gestured sharply at Joker, who was currently giggling softly at the sight of his own hands, "And now you try t' give us the boot without so much as a thank you?!"

"Because my darling Bi Bi will arrive any moment for a date! A meet-up, a tryst, a romantic engagement! And I do not want to frighten her with the conspicuous presence of Overdwellers, no, no! Over there you go! Leave us be until we are done with our rendezvous— complete, finished, sated!"

The Pickman shooed them away, dancing from foot to foot as he waved his arms. And Skaetswys and a still slightly giggly Joker looked at each other, mutually agreeing without speaking that they had to see this elusive girlfriend for themselves.

Thus did the two, instead of ascending the stairs back to the Maelstrom camp above, lurk inside the tangle of bushes, eager faces peering from the shrubbery. They held their breaths as a petite figure wove her way through the Dig Site with the pitter-patter of little feet.

And at last did Joker and Skaetswys behold Pickman Gi Gu's most beloved Bi Bi.

Turned out, Gi Gu hadn't been making up his conveniently absent girlfriend from another Order, to both Joker and Skaetswys' mutual surprise. In fact, she really was just as cute as he'd described— in a Kobold-y sort of way. She was very, very pink. With dainty limbs and sweet little eyes and a fluffy tail that curled just so. Frankly, Joker could see why Gi Gu was so smitten.

And while the biggest slacker of the 789th Order gushed over his love in a display of energy hitherto unknown to him, Joker shuffled closer to Skaetswys, a finger to his chin as he looked Bi Bi's figure up and down.

"So like," Said Joker, "Hear me out—"

And Skaetswys elbowed him in the gut before slinging his doubled-over body across her very broad shoulders, "Okay, tha's more than enough sulfur mines fer ye, young man." She said, carrying him away, "Le's go back to Camp Overlook an' get some fresh air topside while these two canoodle, hm?"

He groaned into her shoulder as she carried him up the stairs, feebly protesting by kicking his legs.

Sylph:

"Ah, the adventurer from the Ramuh incident!" Voyce, the scholar assigned by the Twin Adders to monitor the Sylphs, called out to him, "Here at Commander Heuloix's word, no? The Elder and the others have been most distraught!"

In what was a very uncharacteristic move for the reclusive Sylphs, their elder had officially requested aid through their contacts with the Twin Adders. Apparently something of great significance had fallen into the hands of the 'touched ones', and Frixio, now very aware of the value of outside assistance, had sought out Joker by name.

"I feel my introduction last time was not entirely adequate. I am Voyce, Gridania's foremost scholar of Sylphic customs and lore, at your service! ...Well, at least that's what I told the commander when I volunteered for this mission. Just between you and me, I'm actually rather new to the field." He rubbed the back of his neck, "But I've long been fascinated by these cute little critters, and I thought this the perfect opportunity to make a name for myself. Which brings me to the current matter— I was just thumbing through one of the tomes I, ah, borrowed from Stillglade Fane, when I came across a particularly fascinating passage of a legendary Sylph who is said to possess such power that she controls the very fate of her people. The Chosen One, they call it— a most grandiose name, granted, but—"

"Bumbling one should consider becoming silent one." Frixio muttered, his usual grandfatherly congeniality lost to thoroughly frayed nerves. He cleared his throat, turning to Joker with a far friendlier bearing, "Kind one! Allow this one to explain. These ones are concerned for the fate of the Chosen One… the one who embodies the spirit of all trees that have ever lived or ever will live in these ones' forest home. Once every ten hundred years does Chosen One sprout forth, to lead these ones into a new era before returning to slumber. Birth and rebirth, such is the cycle of these ones' civilization."

"Oh, how fascinating!" Voyce blurted out, causing Frixio to scowl, "But, ah, why exactly does this legend matter right now?"

"Because the rebirth of Chosen One is imminent!" Frixio snapped at him, "This one has met many walking ones, but foolish one has all the wits of a wingrat! These ones can feel the change in the whisper of the trees— and touched ones know it too. The pod Chosen One slumbers inside lies within the deepwoods. Touched ones cannot be allowed to have the Chosen One, or else touched ones will surely use Chosen One's power for wickedness!"

With Frixio providing guidance on where to find the pod incubating the most sought-after sleeping Sylph, Joker, his thief's heart singing, gladly agreed to swipe it… And so did Voyce.

"My expertise shall surely come in handy with this task. I shall join you anon, adventurer— as soon as I figure out where I could have possibly misplaced my underclothes. I know not if this is related to the coming of the Chosen One, but the Twelveswood is terribly chilly these days…"

Behind him, a fluttering Sylph let out a quiet giggle.

While the scholar's assistance would seem like a boon in theory, it was to no-one's surprise, Voyce had almost immediately gotten himself captured the moment they had entered the deepwoods.

He was presently tied to the trunk of a tree, looping vines tight around his body. A purple-skinned Sylph, the mark of one tempered by Ramuh, stood watch over him, routinely prodding his cheek with the end of a small tree branch as they kept a careful vigil. Unbeknownst to either of them, Joker had slipped into the canopy above, a peculiar white cocoon cradled under his arm.

Voyce wiggled futilely against his constraints, tears spotting the lenses of his glasses.

"Oh, p-p-please, oh please, please don't eat me— oh, but your kind don't exactly eat, do you? I hear most of your nutrition comes from water and sunlight, which is terribly convenient. Although some have been known to recreationally imbibe 'milkroot' as a form of—"

"Silence!" The Sylph swatted Voyce's head with the branch, "Be silent one! This one hears sneaking one! What one goes there?!"

And Voyce's constant stream of academic babble was cut off by a high-pitched squeal as a throwing knife narrowly avoided his wrists, tearing clean through his bindings. He blinked, staring down at his hands as the vines fell away from them.

"Don't just stand there!" Joker shouted at Voyce, throwing the Chosen One's pod down to him. Possibly a mistake— the 'bumbling one' was truer to his name than Joker would have liked as he fumbled, nearly dropping it. But blessedly he managed to keep his grip, drawing the silken cocoon close.

"W-what should I…?" The scholar whimpered as a horde of dark eyes turned upon him from between the leaves.

"Run—Take it back to Little Solace!"

"But what of you?"

"I'll catch up!"

Voyce nodded so vigorously he nearly dislodged his glasses. He stumbled away, half-tripping over a tree root as he threw himself back the way they had come, the hefty pod awkwardly clutched to his chest.

A crackle of electricity sounded, and Joker leapt aside, hopping from branch to branch as the tempered Sylphs hurled bolts of lightning after him. Determined to keep them off of Voyce's tail, he deliberately dove deeper into the Sylphlands, drawing the furious little creatures after him instead.

And after quite some time weaving between trees with sparks zapping at his heels, Joker at last slipped back into Little Solace, having given the tempered Sylphs a thorough run-around. He rushed into the clearing, seeking Voyce and Frixio— who both flinched back in alarm at the sight of him.

"Okay," Joker gasped, rubbing at a stitch in his side, "I'm back. Where's the pod?"

Voyce blinked dumbly behind his glasses. He titled his head, confused.

"But… Wasn't it you who offered to take it from me…? I already…"

And Joker's stomach dropped as he realized what was going on.

Sure enough, an amused chuckle that he definitely recognized echoed down to the clearing from high above. As he should— given that the voice was his own.

Voyce looked up.

"Oh." He said, face paling.

For standing high above them, perched victoriously upon a tree branch, was Joker. Or a very good Sylphic glamour of him, anyway.

The Sylph that had assumed his form had gotten him down to a T, dark hair and coattails whipping dramatically in the wind. They practically oozed smug triumph, chest puffed and red-gloved hands upon their hips. And in the air behind them did a duo of their unglamoured, purple-skinned conspirators balance the Chosen One's pod between them, giggling softly.

"This one is surrounded by fools. Makes this one's task all the easier!" Cackled the mimicked Joker with cruel delight, putting a hand under not-his chin for extra villainous flair.

Frixio gasped with horror, wiping at his spectacles. And Joker openly stared into the exact copy of his own face. He let his eyes slowly trail the length of himself from head to toe.

Oh? Hmmm. Well now…

"Foolish ones are foolish indeed to try to outwit this one. But worry not, foolish ones─ Chosen One's podling is safe in hands of this one."

With that did his doppelgänger jump from their perch, landing smoothly before the three with a dramatic flutter of their copied coattails. Voyce and Frixio stepped back as the Sylph grinned into Joker's face in a most familiarly lopsided way, his own gray eyes glinting with mischief.

"This one is called Diluxio, and at long last, this one will finally reclaim the forest for these ones. With Chosen One's power, these ones will be pushed aside by walking ones no longer!" They continued, raising Joker's red gloved finger high into the air.

But Diluxio's grand villainous monologue slowly trailed off as they realized the main target of their audience was not at all having the intended reaction to the sight of his own face. Their hand slowly dropped as Joker's eyes narrowed at them, scratching thoughtfully at his chin as he continued to take them in.

…It wasn't like he hadn't seen himself lately– there was a mirror in his room at the Rising Stones. He just didn't really have the time to properly linger before his reflection of late, outside of making sure he wasn't a total mess.

Furthermore, there was just something fundamentally different about seeing yourself outside of yourself, y'know? Really put things in perspective.

Joker watched Diluxio blink in confusion as he leaned in closer. He audibly hummed as he scanned his exact double, slowly circling the increasingly confused Sylph's magicked form to better examine it from all angles. He lifted a coattail, letting it dangle between his fingers as he looked up his own coat. Diluxio let out a startled squeak.

Huh! So, this was how he looked now. He trailed a finger up Diluxio's chest. More disheveled, sure. But not bad. Kind of a roguish charm, right? That was good. Still worked with his aesthetic— less debonair than the 'gentleman' angle Arsène's image was predicated upon, but still very 'thief' in its own way.

The doppelgänger flinched as he practically pressed his nose to theirs, trying to pull away with slightly flushed cheeks.

"S-stop it! Cease at once this debauched gaze upon walking one's own figure!"

And Joker firmly shushed the Sylph, grabbing the copy of his chin and tilting 'his' head.

"Quiet. I'm busy." He muttered, peering into his own eyes.

Stolen face now completely red, Diluxio shoved him back with both hands.

"Enough!" His own voice shouted at him, desperately clawing for some dignity as Diluxio once again made a show of puffing out their chest, "Silence— Listen to this one! This one will teach Chosen One the way of almighty one, Lord Ramuh. This one will teach Chosen One of all those who are enemy to these ones─ walking ones, steel ones, treacherous ones… And then debauched one will be sorry, yes!"

Some semblance of wicked pride restored, they sprung away on Joker's copied heels, vanishing alongside their fellows and the pod with cackling laughter echoing among the trees.

"Not to worry, my friend! For I have a plan that will most surely allow us to retake the Chosen One from the tempered!"

Joker, prepared to cross the bridge that separated Little Solace from the Sylphlands proper, turned at Voyce's bold declaration.

Only to find himself meeting possibly the worst (and most certainly custom-made) Chocobo outfit he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, mind— but it was simply no contest.

The head, a crude approximation of a bird-shape, including a conical beak, flopped unevenly to the side— so much so that Voyce seemed to be struggling to peer out of the obvious eyeholes. The body looked as if it had been padded with pillows, and stuffing spilled from visible seams. And there didn't even seem to be anything to cover below the knees, the man's obviously Hyuran legs and shoes poking out.

"Yes, feast your eyes on this glorious plumage! I shall slip my way past their defenses in disguise." He crowed, the flapping fabrics that made for very sad false wings raised high, "And simply take back the pod while the miscreants are none the wiser. They will never see it coming!"

…Did Chocobos even live this far into the woods? Honestly, the two-men-and-a-sheet approach to making a comical fake horse probably would've worked better than… this. Not that he really wanted to be a part of that either. Joker winced as Voyce cleared his throat, giving his best impression of a Chocobo's 'kweh' that sounded more like a strangled cat in heat.

Joker slowly looked him over again, grimacing. He hesitated, wavering between responses…

Then gave a firm thumbs-up.

"You got this."

Voyce beamed behind the poor excuse for a Chocobo head, delighted.

"Very good! I shall be but moments, mark my words. Now— I away!"

And Voyce sprinted into the dark depths of the Sylphlands, his bumbling motions creating a crashing, chaotic path through the brambles that would surely draw the attention of everything in this neck of the woods for malms around.

With a mental apology to Voyce for what barely qualified as deception, Joker snuck away to take back the pod himself. Godsspeed, useful idiot…

The Sylph Elder had been so visibly relieved at Joker's return with the pod cradled in his hands— and the absence of Voyce at his side— that he'd let out a merry cheer, wheeling through the air without a care for his advanced age. With the youth inside free to be safely incubated among the Sylphs of Little Solace and his job done, Joker prepared to depart, glad that the new child would grow free and loved among the kinder of its kin.

"What a splendid team we made, eh, adventurer?"

And stumbling through the trees at the edge of the settlement came Voyce, head angled awkwardly to better peer through glasses thoroughly askew. His blonde hair was now an utter mess, alternating between sticking up in random directions or else slicked to his forehead with sweat. Leaves and twigs protruded between the tufts, and his cheeks were thoroughly littered with scratches.

Faring far worse was his Chocobo disguise, the false head long lost and the pillow-stuffed body in sad little tatters that clung in trails to his regular clothes beneath. Not that any of this seemed to dull his enthusiasm.

"Thanks to the two of us, the Chosen One's pod has made a safe return to Little Solace— and now so have I!" He placed a hand to his heart, fingers protruding from torn gloves, "Why, upon witnessing my return, Elder Frixio put his head in his hands and started crying! Clearly, my absence had taken quite the toll on his gentle heart."

And Joker, a strained smile on his face, gave the poor fool a pat on the shoulder that he seemed quite pleased with.

Amalj'aa:

G'raha's impulsive decision to take the search for a pure fire crystal into his own hands the day they had first met had only served to delay Joker's inevitable repeat confrontation with the Amalj'aa.

High Commander Swift had delivered to him grim news— a fresh new spate of Amalj'aa kidnappings. Not only of the citizens of Ul'dah and soldiers of the Immortal Flames, but also of the Miqo'te that inhabited the Forgotten Springs. So dire was the ever-escalating situation that the proud hunters had forsaken their solitude to beg for aid. Joker's heart lurched at the news. As frustrating as the Nunh's trials had been during the Company of Heroes fiasco, he had been quite fond of how accommodating his people were.

And under such dangerous circumstances, it was again understandable that the Flames should seek Joker's assistance— especially given what had happened the last time they had confronted the local Beastman tribe.

Squashing down the lurch of fear at the memory of his hands bound behind his back, Joker had moved to intercept the Amalj'aa's horrific tempering ritual at once. He slipped easily among the great shadows of rocky pillars cast by the intense desert sun, sneaking into the prison compound at Zahar'ak— this time willingly.

Within a metal cage in the stronghold's depths did he come upon the prisoners. An eclectic mixture of Ul'dahn civilians, Flame soldiers and U tribe Miqo'te, quaking as they huddled together against the steel bars. Joker gently shushed them, a finger to his lips, as they jumped in alarm at his sudden presence. With plenty of experience under his belt and his best reassuring smile, he had the cage door unlocked in moments, quietly leading them away on unsteady legs.

But, of course, things could never be so simple.

So, so close to the edge of Amalj'aa territory did the Beastmen's scaly guard-dogs finally catch wind of their escape. A flurry of snapping Drakes descended upon the panicking crowd, eager to either corral them back to their jail or else simply tear them apart. Sizing up what little distance remained between them and freedom, Joker threw out a hand. Yelled at the prisoners to make a break for it. They did so, bolting through the gate he had opened, as Joker turned and stood his ground.

Of course, a pack of Drakes was hardly anything to the man that had felled the very god of this land— a god that he simply turned upon them. The link between him and Ifrit thrummed with a vibrating delight as the Primal's eager claws tore through their flesh, caring not for who its foe was allied to as it shredded easily through their thick hides.

And then there was only one of the poor things left, fear for its life overriding its caution. It threw itself at Joker's neck, maw open wide and fangs bared. Joker shifted his footing, knife at the ready and a smirk on his face. Too simple…

Only he did not get the satisfaction of the final blow. A whistle pierced the air as an arrow streaked through it, soon lodged deep into the Drake's throat. The creature collapsed immediately, skidding to a halt as its body grooved a furrow through the sands.

For an utterly foolish, beautiful moment, the familiarity of the scene made Joker's heart soar. He turned to the cat-eared silhouette on the rocky bluff just above him, ridiculous hope rising.

…But, it wasn't G'raha, of course. Of course. And it was stupid of him to let himself entertain the notion for even the briefest of moments.

Lifting his hand like a visor against the bright sun, Joker forced his face to stay neutral as he peered up at the dark-skinned young Miqo'te woman, her bow still raised. A member of the U Tribe, come to liberate her kin? Unlike the others he had seen, this one bore an unusual wooden mask. Painted with swirling patterns, it obscured her face entirely.

He was about to consider it suspicious, but then realized the blatant hypocrisy of that line of thinking. Joker smiled pleasantly as he pushed his own mask, returned now to his face, up to his forehead.

"Thanks for the assist."

But the Miqo'te did not lower her weapon. In fact, she nocked herself a fresh arrow, aiming the tip squarely at his forehead.

Joker sheathed his dagger. He casually raised his empty hands.

"I'm not here to pick a fight with you."

The young woman's tensed muscles held steady as she continued to keep the arrow trained upon him.

"You are the champion of the 'civilized' people, are you not?" There was the slightest growl to her words, "They say you consumed the Lord of the Inferno. That you took his power as your own."

"That I did." Joker continued, tone unconcerned, "Does that bother you?"

The girl gave an indignant huff, tipping her head back proudly.

"Know this— You may see before you the body of a Miqo'te, but my soul burns bright with the pride of the Amalj'aa!"

And Joker kept his stance casual, shrugging his shoulders, "Going to shoot me, then? Revenge for your fallen god?"

She snorted with disgust, "We of the Brotherhood of Ash reject such misguided worship! If you have no desire to serve Zagozz Teh and his Flamefangs, then you are no enemy of ours."

"I assure you, I don't." Joker said, eyes hard, "I came here to free their prisoners, in fact."

"As I saw." The woman said simply, at last allowing the arrow to drop, "I wished merely to test your mettle. The stories we hear say that you remain untempered despite being bathed in Ifrit's flame. That you instead force him to serve you. I had to be certain that you and your power were no threat to us."

Once Joker had ensured the safety return of the prisoners to the care of the Immortal Flames, he allowed the puzzling Miqo'te to lead him to the Ring of Ash: the home of the Brotherhood of heretical Amalj'aa that refused to bow to the will of Ifrit.

The girl calling herself Loonh Gah had taken him to meet with the group's Warleader— an imposing Amalj'aa dressed in cerulean blues named Hamujj Gah. And, it seemed, the Miqo'te's adoptive father.

Impressed by the blow Joker had struck against their enemies of Zahar'ak, he seemed open to a dialogue. And Joker seized the opportunity, the better to forge possible relations between the people of Ul'dah and a potential ally in the Brotherhood of Ash. Hamujj Gah, cautious but excited by the prospect of working with the 'Ifritsbane', had given his conditional blessing… provided that Joker take it upon himself to learn their ways. An offer he eagerly accepted, to Loonh Gah's great consternation.

"Do not be bothered by Loonh's spitting flame. It is merely her way." One of the more approachable Brothers, Yadovv Gah, told him as the two sat by a campfire at the Ring of Ash's center. They each held a spit, the incendiary glands of wild Drakes skewered on the ends and roasting carefully over the open flame— apparently an essential ingredient in the carefully curated meals of the tamed scalekin that the Amalj'aa kept as cavalry.

Joker had spent a good portion of his inaugural day with the Brotherhood slaughtering beasts and cutting out their various organs. He supposed he should be thankful to Momodi's earliest adventuring jobs that he had learned how to harvest body parts from a variety of creatures without making too much of a mess. He wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell that wafted from the roasting flesh. At least he now knew how to cook Drake organs for himself, if he ever had to resort to that.

Yadovv Gah adjusted his posture, his small red Amalj'aa eyes flickering fondly to where the lone Miqo'te that lived among them carefully tended to her personal mount, "She was of the tribe that lives among the springs to the south. Little more than a hatchling when the Warleader took her in. She and her mother were captured by the Flamefangs— kept as trophies of their leader, Zagozz Teh. Despite her youth, she barely managed to slip away before they offered her soul to Ifrit. Loonh is as one of us, and has since earned her place with fire and steel."

Creeping among the long shadows cast by the light of a full moon, Joker slipped casually to Loonh Gah's side as she hesitated before the border to Zahar'ak.

She did not seem surprised to see him.

"I did not ask for you to join me."

"I know." Joker answered easily, "But here I am."

The Miqo'te, crouched behind a large boulder, glowered at him from behind her mask.

She had come here against the word of the Warleader— against her father— in light of rumors of a Miqo'te woman sighted among the Flamefangs. A name whispered fearfully among the hunters of the Forgotten Springs that had made the hairs of Loonh Gah's tail stand on end, no matter how she tried to hide it.

Hamujj Gah had shaken his head grimly at the news that his daughter had vanished in the night.

"Loonh Gah is beyond our help now." He told the frantic Yadovv Gah, whose face was twisted with worry, "This is her battle, and her battle alone. Amalj'aa law forbids intervention in such vendettas. If she wishes to perish in a blaze of false glory, then that is the path she has chosen."

The Warleader had turned sharply away, leaving his kin to scowl at the sands, despair visible upon his face.

And so Yadovv Gah had looked to Joker.

"Honored ally! Though I risk bringing shame upon myself and the Brotherhood, I beg you hear my plea! As an Amalj'aa, I am bound by our laws and customs... but you are not."

And Joker picked up on the unspoken implication— Yadovv Gah and his kin may be unable to aid their sister. But Joker was beholden to no such rule.

Loonh Gah slowly relented to Joker's stubbornness with a sigh.

"You have braved their camp before. You know where they keep their prisoners." Joker nodded. Loonh Gah thought to herself for a moment, before standing tall, "You will take me there. The rest will be my duty alone."

Taking the lead, Joker was the first to spot her. Within the prison compound's steel cage was a lonely figure. A Miqo'te woman with familiar off-white hair, dressed in tattered rags. Turned away from him, she huddled in the corner, rocking slightly with her arms curled around her midsection.

Once more picking the lock upon the door, Joker stepped forward. The woman whimpered. She drew further into the corner, her limbs tightening.

"St-Stay back! You stay away!"

"It's alright." Joker murmured softly, slowly inching closer with a placating hand raised, "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to get you out of here."

And the eyes that turned to glare at him glowed in the dark. Unnaturally bright yellow, slitted pupils sharp and serpentine. She hissed, baring fangs excessively long and pointed even for a Miqo'te.

"I know why you're here! Filthy kidnappers! You've come for my little Loonh, haven't you?!"

Clawed nails dug into the object she held against her breast— a plain rock bundled in shredded cloth like a swaddled babe.

Joker heard a sharp intake of breath as Loonh Gah caught up, hovering before the cage door. She stiffened.

"Mother…?" She breathed out, voice almost like a child's, "You still live…"

And the wild woman lunged forward, "Well, you can't have her! No one can have her! She's been promised to the Lord of the Inferno!" She threw her head back, her lengthened canines glinting, cackling madly as she tightened her hold on the stone.

Loonh Gah took a step back, peering into the horrific mirror of the fate that would have befallen her had she not been taken in by the Brotherhood. And Zagozz Teh surely knew it as keenly as she did.

For several seconds did she merely stand, transfixed with dread. Then she dropped to her knees. Her hands fumbled at her side as she produced a pouch full of pure white ash. Joker recognized it as the kind the Brotherhood used in their purification rituals.

Her mother recoiled, a low hiss on her breath. Loonh Gah looked to Joker sharply. He mutely bent down at the woman's other side, prying her fingers from the rock she cradled as she howled and wept.

With his help did Loonh Gah bind her hands firmly behind her back with a length of rope. She growled as she glared up at them, slitted pupils boring into their faces.

Loonh Gah exhaled behind her mask. Stuck a hand inside the sack, coating her palm in powdered white.

Her hands shook fiercely as her mother's snapping fangs lunged at her, desperately trying to bite off her own daughter's fingers. Joker pressed his hands down firmly on the woman's shoulders. He watched nervously as Loonh Gah placed her palm to her cheek, thickly smothering a layer of ash upon her mother's face.

She hissed and snarled. Her tail thrashed in the sands. But as far as Joker could tell, the reaction was more like a captive animal's wild flailing than any sort of purifying pain.

Though he couldn't see her face behind the mask, it was clear Loonh Gah was deeply disappointed. She fought back a flinch as her mother spat at her, yellowed eyes glaring starkly among the white now smeared on her face.

And Joker sighed. Of course it didn't work. If it was that simple, it would have been done already. But it was still horrible.

Loonh Gah's legs were unsteady as she stood up. Joker joined her, stepping back as the tempered woman's aggressive posture began to falter. As her shoulders dropped, voice breaking as she gave plaintive beckon for supplication to the god she was forced to worship.

"Lord Ifrit…" She mewled, swaying against her bindings, "Lord Ifrit, please hear me… Please save my darling Loonh, as you saved me…!"

He heard Loonh Gah's breath shudder. She turned to him again, the slightest gleam of wet eyes behind the holes in her mask.

"You… You bear Ifrit's power, no?" She whispered hoarsely, tail trailing low. And Joker's heart began to hammer as he realized what she was trying to ask, "Is there… is there not… anything…?"

She raised her dusty hand to her heart. Joker forced himself not to look away from her pleading eyes as the horrible, cruel idea simultaneously sunk his stomach with dread… but also carried with it a rousing spark of hope. The conflicted feelings curdled, twisting into a horrible, contrasting amalgam that tightened his chest.

It… wasn't the first time he had wondered something similar. But he didn't… Well, could he…? Was it possible?

Joker's breath shook much as Loonh Gah's had. Yes, he was Ifrit. In a loose sense. He possessed a fragment of the Lord of the Inferno, drawn into his very soul. Still a far cry from the true entity the poor woman was enslaved to, but maybe it was enough to… to command her. To take ownership of her mind, and from there… untwist it. Straighten it back to how it was.

Perhaps he could take hold of her reins for the purpose of unshackling her. Setting her free.

It was a vile thought, to play with another's soul. But then, hadn't he already done something like that before? He had helped Cid that time aboard the Enterprise somehow, had he not? Lifted the veil upon his memories, reached into his heart. Different circumstances, certainly, but maybe. Maybe…

His mouth twisted as he gave Loonh Gah a nod.

"I'll try."

Pushing down his doubts, Joker closed his eyes. He plunged into his mind, seeking hellfire and brimstone. Embracing the flames that washed over him, he let horns curl from his skull and embers dance on his tongue as Ifrit rose from his heart.

He felt Loonh Gah stiffen beside him. Desperately ignoring how the power that thrummed through him was so, so terribly like the Monarchs that ruled the Jails of the Metaverse, enslaving and commanding the minds of their victims, he they spoke.

"Look at me." They growled together, eyes blazing gold as they reopened.

The woman's eyes widened. They drank him in as her feeble resistance faltered entirely, her body almost boneless— now willingly upon her knees. Her neck lolled back, gazing upon him as if he was a specter of divinity.

Which he supposed, to her tempered mind, he was. His chest squirmed so horribly at the sight, utterly repulsed… And yet also… intrigued…?

He recognized that feeling, the smallest hint of satisfaction at watching another's will bend, as originating from Ifrit. He stamped it down harshly, smothering that foul ember before it could catch. Oh no, no, no— we certainly weren't going there.

"Come here." Their dual voice crooned, hand extending, clawed fingers scraping lightly at the ash upon the woman's cheeks.

And oh how she threw herself at him, his nails nearly cutting into her skin. She leaned into his touch, the slightest keening purr to her breath. Loonh Gah's hands twisted at the sight.

Repulsed, attracted, Joker bit his tongue. Felt his way through swirling fire, seeking the flickering flame that he hoped would be hers.

His eyes slipped closed as lights danced behind them.

"Come on…" He whispered under his breath, fingers twitching, nails tightening, "Be undone… go back to who you were… Come on…"

And among the dancing, kaleidoscopic spiral of… of everything, the veritable whirl of chaos and light and delicious sweetness that bloomed tantalizing across all of his senses, he felt a spark. A something, more tangible and solid than the ephemeral spectral display around it. A weak, weak voice that called out so softly.

He reached for it. Held onto it with mental hands that he could feel extend from himself, beyond the ones that pressed against the ash-coated skin of Loonh Gah's mother's cheeks. Gently cupping… yes— her. That faint little glimmer that was the Miqo'te's being. Crackling with heat, like the remnants of coals at the bottom of a hearth.

So carefully did he reach out to her. Into her.

And words bloomed between their entangled minds as he gave a most tentative greeting:

CAN YOU HEAR ME?

donotbealarmedimeanyounoharmiwishonlytohearyourwordsshareyourfeelingsandknowyourthoughts

He saw it without seeing— A flicker of emotion. Inside and out, fire dancing in her eyes, in her heart.

— Fear and anger. Repulsion.

And Joker's head spun wildly as the woman smacked his hand away with one of her own, torn free from its bonds, wrist marked with bloodied grooves from the press of the rope. He staggered, the connection between them severed as abruptly as a knife cutting a cord.

"Get away from me!" She howled, tail stiff and fangs bared, "You are not Lord Ifrit! Away, imposter! Away!"

Joker backed off as she snarled and spat and snapped, thrashing and writhing. Desperately trying to untie her other arm, the foulest curses hurled at his retreating figure. His legs shook as he withdrew further and further, until he was pressed against the opposite side of the cage. His shaking head spiraled with so much of everything at once, still dancing upon aether and fire and feeling.

He held his breath, fingers curling against the steel bars. The right thing to do now, he supposed, was to… kill her. It hadn't worked. He had failed. And now she should be put down. Like a wounded animal, out of her misery. Like the captured Immortal Flames and civilians the day he had been brought before Ifrit. Like Ungust. Like the man he had shot between the eyes, the gunblade's barrel rattling so hard.

Joker's stomach lurched violently.

"I'm…" He gulped, pushing down rising bile in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to look at Loonh Gah, "I'm sorry…"

He felt the girl shake at his side with a fury that practically radiated from her. He couldn't react in time as she bolted from the cage, a furious scream tearing her throat.

"Zagozz Teh!"

Fire danced as they clashed. Loonh Gah roared like a beast, wild and enraged, loosing arrow after arrow at the Amalj'aa priest decorated in splendid regalia. His face showed wicked delight behind his mask, his sharp teeth bared as he countered each blow with a swirl of flame conjured from his staff.

Joker beheld the fight atop the stone pillar from below. Though strictly ordered not to interfere, he had at least kept away any Flamefangs that would dare approach the two combatants. His fingers now twitched at the Soul Crystals that held his array of new weapons. He wanted to help, he really did… but Loonh Gah had been insistent. And he didn't know if he should dare to impose himself any further against her peoples' customs. Against her pride.

Joker's eyes lifted to the other silent figure that watched the engagement— Hamujj Gah, himself stolen into Zahar'ak in the chaos. He stood upon a rocky outcrop, his arms folded across his scaled chest. Though he almost seemed the picture of stoic serenity, Joker could see his small eyes studying the fighters so keenly, his muscles taunt with nervous anticipation.

Zagozz Teh was indeed a formidable fighter. His mastery of fire magic was a sight to behold. But even that faltered against the blaze of Loonh Gah's fury. The wicked fire that erupted at her face sputtered out before the magic that swirled down the shaft of her arrow. The tip tore through the flames, sinking deep into the startled Amalj'aa's stomach. He dropped to his knees, gasping in pain. His staff clattered from his hand, rolling away.

Zagozz Teh's clumsy attempts to lunge after it were halted by a flash of silver. His wide eyes took in the sight of Loonh Gah, silhouetted against the moon as she towered over him, the sharp tip of an arrow angled at his forehead.

Her furious breath came as a hiss as she pulled her arm back.

And the leader of the Flamefangs threw himself pitifully at her feet.

"M-Mercy! Mercy, I beg you!" He wailed into the sands, a pathetic display, "The will of our god is overwhelming! Spare my life, and I shall become your slave instead!"

There was a long pause. Loonh Gah breathed heavily, the arrowhead jittering as her hands shook.

And then she slowly lowered her bow.

"Pitiful creature." Loonh Gah spat, glare intense behind her mask, "If any bring shame to the Amalj'aa, Zagozz Teh, then it is you. Your power is broken and my vengeance complete. No more of my arrows need be stained by your coward's blood. Crawl back under your rock, lizard!"

Loonh Gah stowed her weapon at her back. Stiffly, she turned her back to him—

And Zagozz Teh stood, sharp teeth grinning and hands twitching to the sash at his waist.

"Gullible fool!"

There was a flash of steel. And Joker deftly caught the knife that suddenly dropped down before his eyes, a smirk spreading across his face.

Zagozz Teh lunged before Loonh Gah could fully swivel to face him, a blade in his hands angled for her belly—

And then the Amalj'aa broke off in a horrible gargle, blood erupting from his fanged mouth as the shining blade of a completely separate knife protruded from his throat. He swayed for a moment, breath rattling weakly, before he collapsed dead to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Loonh Gah stared upon the corpse for a moment, shocked. And then she slowly turned, her head jumping between Hamujj Gah's stoic figure on the adjacent rock pillar, down to Joker below, his hand outstretched.

"Oh, whoops!" Said Joker, raising his hands up with a casual smile plastered on his face, "It seemed Warleader Hamujj Gah, enraptured by the fight, just so happened to drop his knife at my feet. And me, not being an Amalj'aa, very ignorantly threw it at Zagozz Teh's neck without concern for your cultural customs regarding interference in personal vendettas. What a terrible misunderstanding!"

He winked. And Loonh Gah let out a huff of laughter behind her mask, shaking her head.

She allowed herself to slump for a moment, the fading adrenaline sapping her strength. And then her hand rose to her mask. She pulled it off, turning her bare face to the night sky.

"Were you watching, Mother? You have been avenged."

A tear caught the moonlight as it dropped from her chin.

Sahagin:

Sastasha Seagrot was a natural network of caverns carved out of a rocky cliff that littered the coastline of western La Noscea. Once used as a hideout for a notorious gang of pirates, it had been thought to be abandoned after said buccaneers were routed and captured by Sahagin forces eager to reclaim their territory. But evidently enough of their number remained to be a recurring problem for the local Lominsan settlements— especially as the ones that still lived were now among Leviathan's 'drowned'.

Clean-up duty, Joker supposed. The few tempered Serpent Reavers not slain in the Scion's and Maelstrom's dual assault upon the Sapsa Spawning Ground had to be dealt with. A grim responsibility that Ceana saw a unique opportunity in.

Eyewitnesses to the ghastly men had stated that their forms had become truly monstrous— their prolonged existence as tempered thralls warping them in a uniquely grotesque way. But rather than appropriately appalled, the young scholar was instead brimming with scientific curiosity.

"If we are to make any headway in devising a cure for tempering, we must study the phenomena in all its forms." She explained to Joker at Novv's nursery, holding up a dog-earned journal filled with copious notes taken during the duration of her studies, "Especially such extraordinarily advanced cases as these. Please, please do allow me to accompany you!"

And though it felt wrong to drag a civilian into such open danger, he couldn't deny the importance of her research. Clutchfather Novv set his mind at ease by agreeing to accompany the both of them, as he had before on numerous occasions now. Joker smiled, truly grateful that he had befriended him.

Weaving through the abandoned den, they crossed rotted wooden beams coated in thick layers of dust, weaving through tunnels formed into stone by the relentless press of sea water. And when they had reached where the cavern opened to the sea did the trio encounter their targets.

The last of the Serpent Reavers hardly resembled men at all. The nearest one that turned to face them let out a gurgling cry, lungs so thoroughly drowned with water that it gushed like a faucet from a crooked mouth that gaped open wide, jaw barely hinged. The top half of his head was now melted into a semi-translucent dome, throbbing and roiling with thick gelatinous liquid. It was as if his body had been fused with a jellyfish, trailing tendrils where arms had once been, bulbous globules protruding from pale, blue-tinted skin, looking ready to rupture.

Though his tentacled appendages made his grip on his axe clumsy, it did not stop him from making an attempt to lunge for Ceana, the bladed end raised high. Ceana gasped, scrambling back.

Within seconds was Joker standing over her, Zantetsuken raised to catch the head of the axe between the groove of the blade. Ceana, meanwhile, blinked as her brain slowly registered that she was currently held within a pair of strong, scaled arms, Novv having scooped her up into a bridal-carry. She let out a belated squeak of surprise as he leapt away, taking her to safety.

Sweeping the axe aside, Joker steadied himself. He brought his blade down.

The bulbous head dome split open, splattering apart with a gruesome mixture of viscous clear fluid and still grotesquely human brain matter and blood. It spilled thickly at his feet, rotted and rancid.

The rest of the drowned pirates gargled angrily as they lumbered towards him, weapons drawn. And Joker set about putting each of them down one-by-one— gutting them, crushing their heads in, slitting their throats. The very last of them he laid low with a wide sweep of lightning from Ramuh, the Primal's elderly face scowling in the cave's dim light.

And when the flashing lights from magicked thunder had at last faded, leaving burnt limbs seizing and twitching upon the floor, did Novv leap back down, Ceana still cradled against him.

He gently set her upon her feet. Already absorbed in study, the girl drifted closer, minding the few remaining sparks that danced at her heels among the waterlogged rocks.

"Thank you, mister Joker." She mumbled distractedly. Ceana's nose wrinkled as she leaned over the nearest body, trying not to recoil at the smell. She put her hand over her nose and mouth, peering closer.

"How fascinating…" Came her muffled voice, "It is as I hypothesized— this man's unnatural form can be attributed, I believe, to the excess absorption of water-aspected aether." She ran a finger through a glob of translucent fluid that dribbled from his leaking head. Her mouth twisted with a brief flash of repulsion, flapping her hand and sending the droplet flying away.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself back into detached professionalism, "A living being can only absorb a certain quantity of aether before suffering adverse effects. To be altered so drastically ordinarily requires a fatal dose, yet our subject here lived long enough to be struck down. A most peculiar case indeed…"

Joker had to hand it to her— the young scientist may be hopelessly afraid of ghosts, but where her area of study was concerned she was surprisingly gutsy. Sort of like Makoto when she got going.

Novv nodded at Ceana's assessment, a webbed hand tracing his chin, "Lord Leviathan creates thralls by ssshowering mortals with its own aether. Could this be an extension of that process?"

Ceana nodded, eyes still trained on the new appendages of the horrifically warped corpse, "I daresay you have struck the mark, Novv, sir. If being exposed once to a Primal's aether is enough to corrupt the mind, 'tis plausible that repeated exposure corrupts the flesh. But rarely do the tempered live long enough to see such a severe transformation…"

And she stood suddenly, wheeling around to face the both of them with eyes shining with morbid fascination, "...We must bring a specimen back with us for further study!"

Novv and Joker looked at each other. The Sahagain shook his head with the slightest grimace, before dipping low and slinging one of the more intact corpses across his shoulders.

Joker pushed his ever lengthening hair out of his eyes with a slick hand, "Okay, the Reavers have been routed, and Ceana has her 'specimen'. We should head out now before any unfriendly Sahagin come chasing after us."

Still riding the high of her academic discoveries, Ceana seemed like she wanted to protest. But she closed her mouth and nodded.

Novv took the lead, the swollen legs of the deceased pirate dangling limply from his back. He dutifully began to escort Ceana back through the winding tunnels as she mused aloud on various theories.

"I'll admit that I am presently stumped as to what could possibly reverse such severe and gruesome effects… But if we apply ourselves, surely a cure for tempering will one day be found, I am certain!"

A truly wonderful thought, for sure. Joker wanted to share her optimism, especially after his failure to do anything for Loonh Gah's mother. He wished so badly that all of this could be like home, where enough perseverance would ultimately see changes for the better. But it was increasingly harder to hold onto hope in that regard.

He lingered behind the others to bring up the rear, one last scan of the sea cave to ensure there would be no more surprise attacks. His gaze passed over the scattered Serpent Reaver bodies littering the slick ground, their bloated, water-logged corpses creating a horrific tableau— a testament to the 'Warrior of Light's' passage through Sastasha.

Joker swiped the layers of blood and mesoglea fluid from Zantetsuken's blade, before dismissing it with a wave of his hand, letting the steel melt into aether.

He supposed he should be relieved that the killing had been so much easier this time.

Original Ao3 endnotes:

Hey, what was that something there in the Amalj'aa quests…? Nah, don't worry 'bout it.
As for the Ixal… I'm saving the finale of their questline for after we visit a certain location in Heavensward, to better tie in some stuff we learn about their origins there. ;)

Bonus sketches!

1. After an interesting back and forth, my sister and I decided this is what the doppelganger!Joker disturbed Y'shtola with back in chapter 28

Y'shtola isn't actually that attracted to Joker, but we know from 6.1 that she went through a Magical Girl phase as a kid — and we all know that that often comes packaged with a silly baby-crush on the idea of a handsome bishounen CLAMP-esque prince that she's currently extremely embarrassed about. And the Sylphs know it too…
Now Joker DOES find Y'shtola attractive… because duh. But outside of teasing and joking around (because that's literally in his name!) he'll never act on it. For he is acutely aware that Y'shtola has the power to tear his soul into tiny pieces worse than any Sundering if he tried. (see: "Little sun"...)

2. Gods help us, it's the return of the Blunderdome…