Day 21 - Shade

Day 21 - Shade

"Why is it called the Black Shroud?"

The young, blonde Miqo'te looked up from under white tipped bangs, his tail flicking back and forth behind him as he sat on the log besides his mother, watching her wash their clothes and pestering her with curious questions, his sharp mind already on display as his ears flicked this way and that as he took in the sounds of the town in one direction, and the sounds of the forest in the other. His mom paused her humming, looking up with sharp blue eyes, her hair oh so similar to her son's blowing in the gentle breeze, just without those moon-kissed tips like her son had. She seemed to think, and then pointed towards the forest, one hand still massaging their clothes in the warm water.

"What do you see when you look between the trees?" The young boy sighed, rolling his eyes as he got yet another one of his mother's famous questions-as-an-answer. But, even if he was annoyed, he did still look, and he stared between the trees, and just...watched.

Sunlight filtered between dark leaves high in the sky, dilapidated patterns of light across the grass and shrubbery. His turquoise eyes danced with the light, following it, his head tilting, and he nearly jumped in surprise when he saw it. A shift, and a tiny little head lifted from its resting place in the grass, and with the head visible, he could see the rest of the doe's tiny body. Spotted, young like him, and with the dancing lights, impossible to see without that bit of movement, and even as he stared right at it, he found it hard to keep it in view, because its instinctual stillness played into the natural camouflage of its spots. But now that he could see the doe so close, he started to see other things.

A bunny, munching on a clover, watching him with interest. A snake, slithering right by the bunny, neither caring about the other. The mother deer, standing by a bit deeper into the woods, watching for anything that might hurt its offspring. And the little Miqo'te couldn't help but let out a little "whoa..." in awe, and turn back to his mother.

"I get it! It shrouds those living in it!" His mother laughed, and nodded, wringing out a shirt and looking at him.

"And how does it shroud them?"

"With shade!"

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Kaleh'a startled awake, his eyes flying open as he listened carefully from his perch high in a tree, taking in the sounds of the forest around him and slowly relaxing, unsure what had just woke him, but what he heard gave him no warnings about potential danger. He settled back in, thinking over the dream - no, memory - he had just had, and he smiled warmly as flecks of sunlight danced over his face.

It was warm memories like those that reminded him why he kept returning to the Black Shroud, to his home. This place, with it's shrouding shade and thriving wildlife, would always be special to the Keeper of the Moon, and he would forever be grateful for its lessons.

He closed his eyes, and let the dancing sun and warm day lull him back to sleep, just as much a part of the forest as the forest was a part of him.

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Day 12 - Quarry

Quietly he crept through the undergrowth with his bow at the ready, listening for the slightest sign of his quarry. All he had caught yet was one lousy Squirrel and that barely was enough for his own dinner, but certainly not enough to feed a whole tribe.

He wasn’t a bad hunter and of course he also wasn’t the only one of his tribe out and about looking for food. But since Menphina’s loyal hound, the lesser moon glowing red in the sky, had started to behave strangely, the animals of the Black Shroud had become more careful and harder to track down. Almost like they were hiding.

Nhagi’ra agreed with them. Whatever was happening worried him. Something was obviously wrong and the eldest of his tribe had decided to interpret it as a bad omen and spoke of their goddess being angry with them, sending out her loyal companion to punish them. Punish them for what, Nhagi’ra didn’t fully understand but if the wise women said so it had to be true.

But there was no time to worry about this now. The hunger of his family was a more pressing matter and it needed more than a squirrel and a handful of berries to sate it. For a while he had considered going to the city, where the Elezen and Hyur lived, and look for work there, hoping to be able to buy food instead of hunt. On paper it sounded like a good plan but sadly there was nothing other than hunting he was good at which sort of made the whole idea obsolete.

The good news was that Nhagi’ra had spotted a deer about half a bell ago and since then he had tracked it waiting for a good opportunity to strike. He had to make sure his arrow would find its target, this was too good an opportunity to miss.

The bad news was that the animal seemed to have sensed something or someone was stalking it. Always not quite in Nhagi’ra’s field of fire the dear had walked deeper and deeper into the forest and of course the Miqo’te had followed. Now he was no longer sure where he was at all and the deer had disappeared out of his sight entirely.

Carefully he moved through the bushes, trying to remain silent and hidden, but at the same time hoping to catch sight of his prey again. Then he heard a sound further ahead and followed it and finally there the deer was again - standing on a clearing with nothing but a single tree on it. Nothing between his arrow and the game that could feed his family for at least a few days.

He was so focused on the deer that he hadn’t noticed that by now he himself had turned into someone else’s quarry.

Slowly Nhagi’ra stood up and drew his bow, when suddenly a voice appeared behind him.

“Lower your weapon! Now!”, a man commanded.

Alarmed the deer raised its head and leaped away. Nhagi’ra whirled around angrily only to find a spear pointed at his throat. At the other side of the weapon stood an Elezen, staring at him angrily.

“What is it that you think you are doing in this holy place?”, another voice asked and to his left a Hyur woman stepped out of the bushes with a drawn bow in her hands.

Nhagi’ra recognised the armor of the Adders but not yet the situation he was in. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you not just trying to shoot this deer next to the hedgetree?”, the woman asked.

“I was but -“, the Miqo’te started but was interrupted by the Elezen.

“And where are your poacher-friends hiding, mongrel?”, the man scoffed.

“What?”, Nhagi’ra exclaimed as he realised that he was in trouble. “I am no poacher!”

“Didn’t you just admit so yourself?”, the woman asked with a mocking tone in her voice.

“No! I did nothing wrong! I only tried to —“

“Tell that to someone who believes it!”, the man barked and used his spear to knock him off his feet.

Roughly Nhagi’ra landed face first in the mud and before he even realised what happened to him the Adders had shackled his hands behind his back and dragged him off to throw him into a prison cell.

Yeah, they Bi,

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Day 25 - Perpetuity

"Sergeant Fiske!"

Brynhorn Fiske paused, his Maelstrom hat under his arm, the red and black uniform once more worn by the ex-soldier as he met the eyes of a young officer, the soldier actually saluting Bryn first as the old dog chuckled, and saluted back, the smart, sharp, straight right hand grazing his right brow before they both dropped the common greeting. "Sorry sir," the younger man blurted out, speaking rapidly, "didn't mean to surprise you by calling out, but I saw you and had to talk with you!"

Bryn turned fully towards the man who, by all accounts, outranked him, but the respect he saw in his eyes was genuine, and he had a good idea why. The Silver Wolf was well known now among the ranks of the Maelstrom, both for his time in the corp, and for the years after helping them. Now, with the threat of Ultima dealt with, a dragon slain, and a relatively peaceful future stretching ahead, Bryn had returned from his snowy vigil in Ishgard to receive an honor bestowed only on a few lucky soldiers.

"Speak, Lieutenant," he chuckled out, and motioned for the man to walk with him. "Time is short before the ceremony begins."

"Right!" The young man jumped forward into step with Bryn, and for a few steps, seemed to be visibly wrestling with his words, before finally sighing. "I have a...problem. Or really a short coming. I'm a Lieutenant, already, but I'm so young that a lot of my men don't respect me. I know that you were given a command very young too, Sergeant. So how did you earn their respect?"

Those intense, brown eyes lifted to silver ones as Bryn met his gaze, reaching up to gently stroke his well kept beard, humming thoughtfully. "Respect, hm?" A tricky subject. He remembered how he, a fresh faced twenty year old, holding a rifle he barely knew how to use, had stared at the ten men and women meant to be under his command, and felt so...small before them. Like he didn't deserve this honor or their respect. But he also remembered how he had earned it. "When was the last time you shared a meal with them?"

"Shared a - what?! I eat with the officers!" He seemed shocked to be even asked such a question, and Bryn stopped to look at him with a sharp eye.

"That's your issue. You are separating yourself from them." The Lieutenant flinched slightly at the harsh tone in Bryn's voice, and he relented slightly, sighing heavily. "Look, they are all acutely aware that you outrank them. That you, somehow, so young, could order them to lay down their lives and they would be expected to do so. What they don't know is if they can trust you. And that means you need to ask yourself a question. Do you want to be their leader, or do you want to be their dictator?"

For a moment, he watched as the young man's head wrapped around the question, worked through it, and formulated an answer, his mouth opening to say something, but was silenced by a firm pat on the back from Bryn. "Don't tell me," he chuckled out, "tell them." And after a second of embarrassed nodding and a quick salute, the Lieutenant was gone, off to find his command as Bryn continued on his way towards the ceremony.

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"Sergeant Brynhorn Fiske."

Rising, his hat under his arm, Bryn took the few steps forward on the makeshift stage the Maelstrom was using the Limsa Lominsa to hold their ceremony, the applause of both civilians, soldiers, and veterans filling the air as Eynzahr Slafyrsyn turned with medal in hand towards Bryn, the old Sea Wolf's eyes gleaming as he pinned it on the red and black of Bryn's uniform. "Apologies Merlwyb herself couldn't be here, sir, but she sends her regards and congratulations."

Bryn chuckled, and shook his head, his voice soft as he shook his old Grand Marshal's hand. "It is of no consequence, sir. The honor alone is enough."

"Speaking of, she asked me to impart another gift besides the distinguished service medal." Bryn's eyebrows shot up, but Eynzahr was already turning to the crowd, and announcing loudly the second gift for Bryn.

"By order of the Chief Admiral, Sergeant Brynhorn Fiske has received a distinction for his actions during the fall of Dalamud, and the many years of working with us and the Scions to protect Eorzea. As a result, despite leaving our ranks, he is to maintain and hold his title as Storm Sergeant Second Class, in perpetuity! Thank you, sir, for your service!"

The roar from the crowd as the Grand Marshal turned and saluted Bryn barely registered for the Silver Wolf, his salute more ingrained instinct than anything else, his expression one of shock as he tried to form words to say something, but already the Grand Marshal was moving on to the next person on the stage, and Bryn dutifully retook his seat.

Storm Sergeant, Second Class, in perpetuity. Until death, and after, Bryn would hold that rank, and be able to leverage it wherever he went. It was truly, one of the highest honors. Almost made him wish he had made it to a higher rank...

He jumped as his linkpearl went off, and he quickly lifted a hand to his ear and answered, listening, nodding, and confirming he would be on his way. Perfect timing too, as the last man received his award and the crowd clapped. It was a simple matter to slip off the stage and head for the aetheryte plaza, humming to himself.

"Well...it never ends, does it?" He muttered dryly, but still, his feet carried him surely back towards Ishgard, and whatever new threat existed.

Day 13 - Butte

"We have to hold this position."

Storm Sergeant, Second Class Brynhorn Fiske of the Maelstrom stood beside the map as his commanding officer pointed out the different positions of interest on the Cartineau Flats, small black markers denoting the approaching Garlean army, while an array of red, yellow, and blue marked the opposing Eorzea one. It was just one legion, the VIIth legion, but the numbers... The colored markers looked small compared to the darker ones on the other side.

"This, here. We can't let them take our flank." His commander, pointing to a short, flat hill, close enough to rain fire on the advancing left flank of the Eorzea force, and Bryn crossed his arms over his red flame jacket and nodded.

"I see it. But we don't have forces to spare."

"Not in the contemporary sense, we don't." When the seasoned soldier's silver eyes lifted, he understood almost instantly what was being asked of him, and he scowled.

"That's a fool's mission," he growled back, gesturing to the butte. "I would need twice the men I have-"

"I'm not asking you to hold it." His commander cut him off, Bryn's penchant to call out stupid plans well known by this point, and the Storm Captain would be foolish not to listen to him. And they both knew it, which was why the Storm Captain quickly grabbed a marker to denote the scouting group Bryn commanded. "Look, your squad is fast. Quick to get into places, quicker to get out. Not to mention, you are almost all ranged combatants. You would see the enemy coming, rain fire on them, slow them down until you could escape and get us a signal to send reinforcements."

Through it all, the Storm Captain played out the scenario on the map with the markers, and Bryn's expression slowly turned from a scowl of defiance to a scowl of pondering. It wasn't ideal, not by a long shot. But the idea itself... "Alright," the Silver Wolf agreed. "Give me ten to prep my men, and we will move out."

"Perfect. Thank you, Sergeant."

"Thank me with an ale after this fight."

And as the Captain laughed, and Bryn ducked out of the tent, he couldn't help but look up at the looming red moon, and silently pray for his small detachment of soldiers, that their lives would burn bright and strong for years to come.

But the gods were silent, as Dalamud fell, and the butte that Bryn and his men made a stand on was wiped from existence.