Fraeloef, a Yellowjacket on guard duty in Swiftperch, wants you to visit the Brewer’s Beacon and investigate the reason behind the waning light.
Fraeloef: You there. Adventurer. Cast your eyes towards the Brewer’s Beacon. Does the light not seem uncommonly weak? Fraeloef: It cannot possibly be bright enough to guide the ships sailing in the bay. I would march over to the lighthouse and investigate myself, but I am duty-bound to remain at my post. Fraeloef: I would consider it a favor if you could make a visit to the Brewer’s Beacon and see if aught has befallen Khanswys, the lighthouse keeper.
Khanswys: Ye say a Yellowjacket sent ye here? Eh? Me light’s grown dim, has it? Well, o’ course it bloody has! Khanswys: The bomb what fuels me furnace has up an’ buggered off, ye see. If I don’t get that beacon fixed up soon, there’ll be trouble on the water… Khanswys: I know yer just the messenger, lass, but I can tell a ‘venturer when I see one. I’m goin’ to need ye to chase down that bomb an’ bring back a claw what ye ripped from its smolderin’ corpse. Khanswys: Take this here iron brazier an’ set her down in the middle o’ the Flock─somewhere near the scarecrow, I’d say. Ye get a nice fire goin’, an’ that frisky bomb’ll soon be about. Watch ye don’t singe yer eyebrows, lass.
Khanswys: All ye need do is take down that runaway bomb an’ bring me one of its little claws. Khanswys: Ah, ye got the ashy bastard, did ye? Once I put this little firecracker in the furnace, that should keep things runnin’ for a while. Khanswys: I had meself a bit of a look while ye was gone, an’ Llymlaen curse me if the furnace weren’t all bent an’ broken. Small wonder the bloody bomb was able to escape. Khanswys: I patched things up as best I could, but I ain’t no smitty. Ye might want to have a chat with that Yellowjacket friend o’ yers in Swiftperch, an’ have him pass the word back to someone in Limsa.
Fraeloef: The furnace is damaged, is it? Very well, I shall write up the relevant reports, but these repairs must needs be effected without delay. Fraeloef: It seems I have another favor to ask of you, adventurer. Take yourself straightway to the Armorers’ Guild in Limsa Lominsa and explain the situation to Forgemaster H’naanza.
H’naanza: The furnace in the Brewer’s Beacon needs repairs? Byregot’s beard, I just sent someone out to tinker with it not a week past. Mayhap the bomb Khanswys had trapped in there was a touch too volatile…? H’naanza: I’ll have an artisan visit the lighthouse and pay special attention to reinforcing the casing of that furnace. Your work is done here, adventurer. May the Navigator guide you on your journeys.
Theodore is looking for an adventurer to deliver a message.
Theodore: It is─regrettably─my duty to stand watch over the road from here to Bentbranch Meadows. Theodore: The ranch has become a veritable institution of Gridania, so any threats to its continued operation are taken quite seriously by the Wood Wailers. Theodore: Which reminds me─mayhap it was my imagination, but I believe I caught a glimpse of some shadowy fellow not too long ago. Would you mind passing word to Roseline down below? I would go myself but, well…it’s hard enough marshaling the courage to walk the root for my shift…
Roseline: A shadowy fellow? Hmmm…now that you mention it, I may have seen something. Roseline: I dismissed it as a trick of the light before, but I thought I saw a shadow in the forest to the north. Still, I suspect it is nothing more than a Qiqirn thief on the run. Roseline: If you must sate your curiosity, by all means investigate. Should you actually find something of note, I would like very much to see it.
Roseline: Hmmm? Have you found something? Roseline: Remnants of a campfire and a forgotten bag…this could belong to any adventurer or traveler. And inside we have…a chocobo grooming brush and roseling oil? Roseline: But wait─why would a traveler make camp here, when it would be far safer to beg the hospitality of Bentbranch Meadows? Roseline: Bugger me, I think this belongs to that stranger said to be meddling with the chocobos! Thank you, adventurer. We have been lax in our duties, but no longer─I swear we will find this shadow.
Drunken Stag wishes to repay your kindness with some useful information.
Drunken Stag: You’d like a chance to make some money, right? Then I know just how I can repay you for your kindness. Drunken Stag: Swarms of sun midges have been harassing travelers along the road connecting Horizon to here. It’s gotten so bad that the Brass Blades have started paying folks to keep the roads clear. Drunken Stag: If you find it hard to believe that swarms of tiny midges could be so troublesome, then you’ve never seen a chocobo driven into a frenzy by one. There’ve already been some terrible accidents. Drunken Stag: Do your part and slay a few swarms. After that, let Fufulupa know. He’ll reward you for your trouble, and maybe even offer you more work.
Fufulupa: Greetings and salutations, adventurer. To what do I owe this─ What, you’ve slain how many swarms of sun midges!? Fufulupa: You have my sincerest thanks! The Brass Blades have been struggling to keep them in check, so your assistance is greatly appreciated. Fufulupa: Will you be staying in Horizon long? If so, there is much and more you can do to help here.
Wyrkrhit, a Skylift operator, needs you to recover a cargo load abandoned by a terrified wagon driver and deliver it to its intended recipient.
Wyrkrhit: Glad I am to see ye again, lass. A wagon driver just returned in a great bloody hurry, screamin’ about some monstrosity what sprang out from a millioncorn seedling in his cargo. Wyrkrhit: Seems the gutless bastard tossed it over the side afore turnin’ tail an’ runnin’ for his life. I need ye to head down the road, recover that seedling, an’ deliver it to Lyulf over at Swiftperch in western La Noscea. Wyrkrhit: Whatever he pays ye for the cargo is yers to keep. After all, I don’t rightly know what else is lurkin’ inside that plant, an’ ye deserve to be rewarded for yer troubles. Wyrkrhit: Oh, an’ ye’ll also find an aetheryte in Swiftperch, so the journey should be worth yer while.
Lyulf: Has Nymeia Herself forsaken this desolate land? Though I understood there were risks in gambling my entire fortune on a crop of millioncorn, I at least expected the seedling to be delivered before disaster struck! Lyulf: Is…is that my millioncorn seedling!? O joyous day! It may seem a paltry beginning, but the yield of this particular variety of crop plant is nothing short of astonishing. Lyulf: As you have undoubtedly noticed, Swiftperch lacks a certain, shall we say, vital energy? Thus I mean to restore a modicum of hope to its residents by growing a veritable ocean of corn! Lyulf: You, madam, seem fit to burst with vim and vigor! Might I persuade you to abide a while and help nurture this ailing settlement?
Osha Jaab, a Wood Wailer at the Matron’s Lethe, is looking for a sure-footed adventurer to pluck blue trumpets from the root of the nearby heavenspillar.
Osha Jaab: Ho there, adventurer. You seem light on your feet. Fancy a quick skip along the root of the heavenspillar here? I need someone to pick off a blue trumpet or two. Osha Jaab: I know what you’re thinking: it’s naught more than a mushroom, so why the commotion? I’ll tell you why. You allow that fungal menace to multiply, and within a moon they’ll be covering the whole damn root and rotting the wood clear through. Osha Jaab: Just watch your step while you’re up there, though─the diremites on the ground won’t waste any time adding insult to falling injuries. Osha Jaab: Once you’re done, head up to the top end of the root and report to Theodore. He’ll be glad to hear someone’s taken care of one of his more dreaded chores.
Theodore: Oh, you’ve cleared the root of blue trumpets? Wonderful! To be quite honest, I have this teeny-tiny problem with heights. (sigh) No, this is not my ideal posting, but we all do what we must. Theodore: Keeping the root passable is an important job, you see. It’s one of the few ways folk can traverse the Central Shroud since the Calamity all but split the area in twain. Theodore: It is not, perhaps, the easiest pathway to walk, but there are those who believe the will of the Matron Herself caused this tendril of a heavenspillar to remain thus suspended, that it might serve the forest’s people. I’m rather fond of the notion, myself.
Drunken Stag needs someone to retrieve the raw Nashachite he dropped outside the mines.
Drunken Stag: The “product” you heard Dadanen going on about is a valuable gemstone known as raw Nashachite. I managed to dig up a goodly amount just before the mines were closed off, actually. Drunken Stag: Packed it up and hauled it out, even. But then them Twelve-damned coblyns came along. Not like any coblyns I’d seen before, and hungry only for the good rocks. They had eyes for my gemstones, so I had no choice but to oblige. Drunken Stag: The Stone Torches had their hands full evacuating the mines, so they ignored the beasts. Even now, they’re only concerned with keeping people out. Please, friend, if you’re willing to face the coblyns, would you bring me my Nashachite?
Drunken Stag: How did you fare, friend? Did you find the raw Nashachite? Drunken Stag: Beautiful, isn’t it? Rarer than many stones, and more expensive than most. They say the green is the same as the eyes of Nanasha Ul Nasha, who once ruled as the sultana. Drunken Stag: This should save Dadanen from his troubles…if there’s enough left. There’s far less here than what I found. I reckon those coblyns made a meal of the stuff. Bloody waste…
Baderon, the proprietor of the Drowning Wench, has a suggestion to put you on the road towards new adventures.
Baderon: ‘Ow do ye fare, Meredith? Rested and ready to expand yer ‘orizons? Baderon: Well, then, I’ve an idea o’ where ye might try ‘eadin’ next. ‘Ave ye ‘eard o’ the Skylift out in middle La Noscea? Baderon: If ye’ve ever visited Woad Whisper Canyon, then ye must’ve been up and down the thing at least once. It’s that big bleedin’ scaffoldin’ attached to the Descent. Baderon: Ye’ve likely seen the lads and lasses out there usin’ it to ‘aul cargo up the cliff face. ‘Ard labor, that, and I ‘ear they could use an enterprisin’ soul to pick up the odd jobs what no other bugger ‘as time to deal with. Baderon: Track down the ‘ead o’ the operation─bloke by the name o’ Wyrkrhit─and ‘e’ll be sure to put ye to work on a task or two.
Wyrkrhit: Baderon sent ye out here, did he? Then consider yerself welcome at the Skylift. Wyrkrhit: Look at that bloody cliff, will ye? One blast o’ fiery hell from that huge dragon was all it took to split the ground in half. Wyrkrhit: Cargo still needs to get through, though, so this mess o’ wood an’ pulleys was our solution to the problem. Wyrkrhit: Well, one of ’em, at least. If the gods were kind─an’ they ain’t─I’d have about a dozen more workers to handle me growin’ list o’ headaches…
Keitha, the head wrangler at Bentbranch Meadows, appears most distraught. See if there is anything you can do.
Keitha: Seven hells! Some bastard Qiqirn has gone and broken one of me chocobo eggs! Keitha: The filthy little thief was busy lootin’ the barn when a guard startled it, promptin’ the damn thing to drop the egg it was clutchin’ and run. Some of the lads gave chase, bless ’em, but when three more of the vermin appeared, me lot had no choice but to turn back. Keitha: Somethin’ has to be done about those Qiqirn… Would you mind headin’ over to the Matron’s Lethe and havin’ a word with a soldier named Roseline for me? The ratmen nest in her neck of the woods, see… She’ll know what to do.
Roseline: You’re here on Keitha’s behalf? Hm? I see. Broke one of her eggs, you say? And there were four of the creatures? Roseline: The Qiqirn are a nuisance at the best of times, but we must now add trespass and chocobo murder to their list of transgressions… They have forced our hand. Our retribution must needs be swift and decisive. Roseline: And who better than you to deliver it, adventurer? Find the lair to the west of here and make an example of exactly four Qiqirn scramblers. We can send no clearer message.
Roseline: The deed is done? Good. A grim task, but a necessary one. Roseline: You have shown them the folly of inciting the wrath of those who consort with adventurers. Perhaps now the Qiqirn will think twice before giving in to their larcenous proclivities.
Dadanen would like you to deliver a message to Copperbell Mines.
Dadanen: It so happens that I’ve a situation that must be resolved posthaste─and I do mean posthaste. Dadanen: I’m plumb out of premium product, and my latest order has yet to arrive! If I keep my customers waiting any longer, this could irrevocably damage my reputation! Dadanen: What’s worse, I paid my man in advance for his services. Despite his assurances that it would be a simple affair, I’ve heard nothing since he departed for Copperbell Mines days ago. Dadanen: Find Drunken Stag and give him this notice. I cannot afford any further delay.
Drunken Stag: What do you want? Hm? Dadanen’s product? Drunken Stag: He can send all the notices he likes, but it won’t change a thing. Drunken Stag: The Concern has closed the mines due to some incident in the depths. Drunken Stag: It’s a godsdamned shame too─lost a decent haul just over yonder during all the chaos…
Staelwyrn has reason to believe that Sevrin is up to no good. Something must be done.
Staelwyrn: I’ve come to expect a great deal from you, lass, and you’ve never once let me down. Staelwyrn: Yet what I’d ask of you now goes beyond aught I’ve asked before. Would you hear my plea all the same? Staelwyrn: It eases my mind to have your ear. Staelwyrn: You’re no doubt familiar with that scoundrel Sevrin by now. Staelwyrn: Well, the schemin’ scapegrace is at it again. Since that letter came for him, he’s been skulkin’ about in that manner he does when he’s up to no good. Staelwyrn: Now he’s rounded up his rogues and buggered off, with nary a word to anyone. Staelwyrn: I’ve grown accustomed to his insolence, but somethin’ tells me this is different. It ain’t exactly damnin’, but when last I had words with him, he didn’t look defiant so much as hunted. I can’t help thinkin’ he’s gone lookin’ for trouble and found more than he wanted. Staelwyrn: So I was hopin’ you might hunt his sorry hide down and drag it back here before it’s too late. Staelwyrn: The ungrateful little cur bites me every chance he gets, but I can’t quite bring myself to cut him loose. I s’pose he reminds me a bit of my younger self. Staelwyrn: Suffice it to say, I’d rather he didn’t come to a sticky end. As for how to find him, I’d try askin’ Grynewyda at the aetheryte. She was the last one to see him. Staelwyrn: I daresay she’ll be able to tell you where he was headed.
Grynewyda: Nothing that passes through those gates escapes my notice! Grynewyda: I saw the rouser and his rabble set out for Woad Whisper Canyon not long ago, singing about drinking themselves stupider. Cheeky sods said I should join them! Grynewyda: I told them I’d rather shrivel up than sip whatever it was that had pickled their brains. If you find the idle swine, be sure and give them a cuff ’round the ear from me, will you?
Aylmer: Of all the dirty, deceitful, downright dastardly deeds that slippery bastard’s done! Aylmer: Claimin’ to take the lads out for a drink, only to lead us straight into a bloody trap! It don’t get no lower than that! Aylmer: ‘Course, I’ve learned to stay a step ahead of ol’ Sevrin, so I was ready─but the others weren’t so lucky. You’ve got to help ’em!
Eyrimhus: My axe may as well’ve been a white flag for all the good it did… Hope you fare better, or the sorry bastards in there are done for.
Sozai Rarzai: Sevrin might’ve got us into this mess, but I ain’t about to let him give his life for us. I’d sooner bow to a fishback than be in that connivin’ bastard’s debt! To arms!
Tattooed Man: A true knave! You betray even yourself, Sevrin. Sevrin: Ugh… Tattooed Man: We were prepared to overlook the matter of your desertion on the condition that you provided us with suitable replacements. That was the agreement. Tattooed Man: Yet your latest change of heart leaves your debt to us unpaid. Few are they who betray the Serpent Reavers twice. You will not do so a third time. Tattooed Man: Cowering behind your protector will only delay the inevitable. Honorless wretch…your life is all you have left. Tattooed Man: And worthless though it be, we shall take it!
???: O mournful voice of creation! Grant ye this humble stone a soul, that it may wake to life! ???: That the golem could be vanquished… ???: That woman is no ordinary adventurer.
Y’shtola: (sigh) …The snake slithered away. Y’shtola: I am only glad he did not have the chance to sink his fangs more deeply into you.
Y’shtola: Those pirates do not belong to any of the known Lominsan factions… Whom then do they serve? The beast tribes? Surely not. Y’shtola: But the timing of their appearance coincides all too neatly with the recent surge in Sahagin and kobold activity… Something is afoot. The question is: what? Y’shtola: …Could it be that the tribes are planning to summon their primals? Y’shtola: Twelve help us if it should prove so. Limsa would be hard-pressed to keep a single primal at bay, let alone two. But all is yet speculation. I must needs find evidence. Y’shtola: The seas continue to rise… Y’shtola: While the lesser moon continues to fall… Y’shtola: And ilm by ilm, the world becomes ever more unlike itself. Y’shtola: It is as Louisoix foretold… Y’shtola: The coming of chaos has rendered the laws of nature mutable, blurring the boundary between the material and aetherial planes… Little now stands between us and the primals. Y’shtola: …But they are not here yet. “Though time be against us, hope shall ever be on our side.” Y’shtola: Never did the creed of Sharlayan ring more true. Y’shtola: Never did I dream that I would possess the means to see aether…yet now that I do, I do begin to take it for granted. How swiftly do the wonders of Sharlayan seem commonplace… Flower Girl: Um… Flower Girl: Here, for you. Have you come for the festivities? Flower Girl: Today the Maelstrom officially makes that great hole in the sea its training ground. Join in the celebrations! Y’shtola: Wait. A disturbance in the aetheric flow. But whence does it emanate? Y’shtola: …Seasong Grotto, perhaps?
Y’shtola: What have we here…? Can you walk? Y’shtola: ‘Tis I. Regrettably, no. He eluded me. Understood. I will inform the commodore. Y’shtola: You collapsed from your exertions. Are you suitably recovered? Y’shtola: Sevrin here has apprised me of all that transpired. His account shed some light upon how you came to be attacked by a golem of all things. Y’shtola: A golem is a mindless automaton, inert save when commanded to be otherwise. Common pirates could not hope to control such a thing, so arcane are its workings. Y’shtola: But then these tattooed wretches are no common pirates─they are the minions of the Sahagin. As to their purpose…well, I shall get to the bottom of it. Y’shtola: But first I must escort Sevrin back to his place of employment. I daresay Staelwyrn will be wondering what has become of him. Y’shtola: And you too, for that matter. I will bear word to him of your preservation, but I am certain he would like to thank you in person. Pray pay the man a visit. Y’shtola: Ah…he told me of you, but perchance he did not tell you of me. My name is Y’shtola. Y’shtola: I am…a naturalist of sorts, surveying the aether in the hope that it might offer up some clue as to our predicament. Sevrin: I’d say I owed you my life…but that don’t cover it. If it weren’t for you, my friends would be dead, an’ all… Sevrin: ‘Tis a debt I can never repay. But I’ll not make things worse by runnin’ away. Take me to Summerford Farms, an’ I’ll face the consequences. Y’shtola: For reasons I cannot fathom, you seem… Forgive me. Mayhap we shall have a chance to speak again when I have marshaled my thoughts. Y’shtola: Until our paths next cross, farewell.
Staelwyrn: Lo! I knew you’d return. Staelwyrn: Y’shtola delivered Sevrin a bit ago. Tales of your heroic deeds precede you! Staelwyrn: The rest came shufflin’ back, too─the lot of ’em sportin’ the same haunted expression. Sevrin: It’s me who’s to blame for that─that an’ the rest. Sevrin: I was once a Serpent Reaver. Staelwyrn: …A thrall to the Sahagin? Seven hells… Reavers may look and sound and act like pirates, but they’re naught but the fishbacks’ flunkies. Sevrin: Us pirates ain’t much for laws, but there’s things we won’t do. We’ve got a code, see─but the Reavers’ve never followed a word of it. A few years back, they started snatchin’ law-abidin’ Lominsans. Sevrin: I’d only just taken my oath when our captain bent the knee to his new Sahagin masters. I knew I had to get away. Sevrin: So I crept off one night, got myself a new name, an’ found myself a new home─Summerford Farms. Trouble is, secrets don’t stay secret for long ’round here, an’ word soon spread…all the way back to the sea. Sevrin: The penalty for desertion is death, but the Reavers offered me a way out instead─my freedom in exchange for my mates’. Staelwyrn: The letter… Sevrin: I dunno what I was thinkin’… (snort) I wasn’t bloody thinkin’. Too busy soilin’ meself. Staelwyrn: Aye, but you got there in the end, didn’t you? When the time came, you made the right decision. Staelwyrn: The men say little to me, but I hear ’em talk of how you stood up to the Reavers at the last─of how you tried to give your life to save theirs. Sevrin: Be that as it may, no deed, however good, can atone for the crime of betrayin’ your brethren. Sevrin: I know that─I do. That’s why I’m going to hand myself over to the Yellowjackets. I’ll bring shame to the farm no more. Staelwyrn: Hm. You’ll hear no arguments from me. Each man must sail accordin’ to his own moral compass. Staelwyrn: I just hope yours guides you back here someday. There will always be a place for you at Summerford Farms, lad. Sevrin: An’ I’ll always be in your debt, Staelwyrn.
Staelwyrn: I owe you a debt too, Meredith. Not once have you let me down. Thank you for savin’ the men of my farm. Staelwyrn: If I could ask one more favor of you, it’d be this: tell Baderon what’s happened, from start to finish. I’m certain he’d put in a good word for Sevrin if he knew the whole story. Staelwyrn: And he’s one of the few people I know who the Yellowjackets’ll listen to. Staelwyrn: Well, I reckon I’ve asked all I can possibly ask of you. Safe travels, lass.
Baderon: …Bloody ‘ells! Life on the farm ain’t quite ‘ow I pictured it! Baderon: Ah, but ye needn’t worry yerself over young Sevrin. The Yellowjacket as ‘ands out the punishments is a good mate o’ mine. If I ask ‘im nice, I reckon ‘e’d be willin’ to commute the lad’s sentence from ‘angin’ to keelhaulin’, kindly gent that ‘e is. …Ah, I’m only jestin’ with ye! I’ll see ‘e’s treated fair. Baderon: Now, it sounds to me like ye’ve done everythin’ ol’ Staelwyrn asked o’ ye an’ more─justifyin’ me generous finder’s fee in the process. Much obliged, lass! Baderon: As fer a reward…well, she’s a lonely lady, this Drownin’ Wench o’ mine. ‘Ow’d ye fancy keepin’ ‘er company fer a spell…with free room an’ board? Baderon: ‘Venturin’s a tryin’ business, after all. Them as don’t rest their bones every now an’ again tend to end up with broken ones. An’ take it from me: fightin’ ain’t nearly so much fun when yer nursin’ a shattered arm. Got that? Good. There’ll always be a free bed fer ye, so make use of it. Baderon: Not that ye’ll ‘ave much time fer lyin’ around, what with all the leves ye’ll be doin’. Oh, didn’t I mention? I’m puttin’ yer name down fer leves. Baderon: Our guild draws all manner o’ clients, offerin’ all manner of odd jobs. Honestly, ye’d be amazed ‘ow much folk’ll pay to avoid doin’ an honest day’s labor. Baderon: Just give T’mokkri a shout whenever ye feel like makin’ a few extra gil. She’ll always ‘ave some task or other fer ye to do. Baderon: Oh, an’ it’s all above board, ‘case yer wonderin’. We’re careful to stay on the Admiral’s right side in ‘ere─unlike some pirates I could mention… I tell ye, if it turns out they ‘ad aught to do with them kidnappin’s, there’ll be seven hells to pay. A proper bleedin’ reckonin’… Baderon: Mayhap that’s what Limsa needs, though. On rough seas, sometimes ye ‘ave to rock the boat to right it. Baderon: But we’ll ‘ave time fer such talk when yer well an’ rested. Till then, enjoy the Wench’s ‘ospitality!
Keishinrei 