Mcmolly

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

And there went the monk.

Ianthe heard the concern in Edgar’s words, she felt the same. Though Avaddon had been a rather loud and seemingly excitable man, she doubted he meant to face a nesting of miniboros all by his lonesome. Still, intentions often held little weight to what could actually happen, and if he wasn’t careful—or perhaps even if he was—he may find himself in a dire situation without aid. She hoped not, not just for his sake, but for the group’s as well.

Balder seemed to be holding together well, which was a relief. She’d seen plenty of leaderly-types among the bandit troupes, and plenty of them were quick to crack when faced with a real threat. Of course, she didn’t want to compare the Hunters Guild to them, but in the back of her mind, the part that denied the existence of true altruism, she couldn’t help it. She felt like a mercenary.

The dragoon pulled her back, and it was nice to hear another voice of reason among the group. Ianthe shifted to the right flank, casting quick, occasional glances back at Luna, Artemisia and Blaike. She kept her focus mainly upon the fog, but pushed from her mind its more mystical qualities. Balder was right, forward was the only way. Everything had an end, and this forest—this fog—was no exception.

Unfortunately, neither were any of them.

You Can Become a Hero!

Kana shuffled after Wakako, adopting a fairly brisk pace to keep up with her. This girl was certainly…different, compared to most adults Kana had met, let alone people her own age. It wasn’t off-putting, but she did feel a bit guilty using her new roommate as what was, essentially, a social blast-shield. The way people’s eyes were naturally drawn to Wakako made Kana wonder if she hated it too—the attention, the spectacle. Did children shy away from her? Did men and women who were too old for petty derisiveness, still gawk and grimace at the sight of her? Did friendship come rarely, and unnaturally, and never for long?

Maybe she was overthinking it. Wasn’t attention part of the deal? People were supposed to look at heroes, and heroes were supposed to like being looked at. Kana had always viewed fame as an unavoidable drawback to heroism, something that had to be endured, but she also hated the sound of her own name, so really, what did she know? Maybe it was a good thing to be famous, even if the idea twisted her stomach into knots.

“…I can lift things real easy, you know.”

Stop. Spacing. Out.

It took her a painfully quiet moment to piece together what Wakako had said—or rather, asked. Kana looked down at her bag, which she hadn’t stopped holding in her arms like an animal since they’d left the auditorium, despite that it had straps. There wasn’t much in it, because there hadn’t been much to take, so it wasn’t as though carrying it was a strain. Did she look like she was struggling?

It’s called being polite, you moron. It’s something good people do. Take notes.

What was she meant to say? Was it polite to accept Wakako’s friendly offer, or would it be demeaning to make a hero’s daughter carry her things like some pack mule? She hadn’t known Wakako very long, but she was nice, and Kana was suddenly very sure that she didn’t want to offend her.

“Oh, ah…I’m sure you can. Y-you seem very strong.” She offered the duffel out, more than a bit sheepishly, and tried to put on a smile that was at least familial to gratitude. “It isn’t really heavy, but i-if you want to, then…thank you very much.”

---

@Naw

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

Well, that couldn’t be good.

In her admittedly numbered years, Ianthe had seen men turn tail and flee when faced with greater numbers or a lost cause. Wild animals, too, shared a similar instinct for self-preservation. Fiends, however…fiends didn’t care if they died, they hardly cared that they were alive in the first place. Fiends didn’t run.

Luna hissed beside her, flinching as if she’d been struck. Ianthe whirled, shield raised, putting Luna between herself and the other front-liners. Artemisia, while some steps away, was at least still standing and apparently unharmed. Ianthe kept her in her peripherals as she scanned the backend for whatever might have struck their nervous archer. Her hand, gripping the hilt of the blade at her side, still hesitated to draw it.

Not yet, she thought. Split hands, split mind. Wait. Wait ‘til it’s needed.

But nothing came. The fog grew heavier, sinking to the earth and pooling at their feet, but there was no sign of their assailant. She made a quick, sharp hiss to Artemisia, nodding for her to come closer to the group. Something told her the mysterious woman had more than a few tricks of up those viridian sleeves, and they’d need the arms still attached to make use of them.

Blaike, who she saw with the steadiest flick of her eyes was within comfortable reach of Mitra, put forth the idea that they split up, and Ianthe nearly broke form to gawk at him. She supposed under normal circumstances, that might have carried some merit. Splitting up against human foes was, well, suicidal at best—and, really, at worst—but fiends had no mind for strategy, or lack thereof, and could perhaps have been…surprised? But these were clearly not normal fiends, which only made the need for closeness even more pressing.

Whatever science he had studied in Alexandria, it had not been the science of war.

Luna winced again, and Ianthe adjusted, cursing herself for missing yet another strike. Only, no, there had been no attack. Luna wasn’t injured, she was…oh, dear.

“Easy, easy,” Ianthe offered, quiet and gentle-like, as she’d spoken to a few of Argo’s more nervous defenders in the past. “We’ve got you. String up that harp.”

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

It really was a harp, wasn’t it? Ianthe hadn’t been sure whether the extra strings served any practical function or if they were purely decoration. Instead, it seemed to be a combination of the two. She still wasn’t sure why the bow had a harp fashioned into it, but she also would have been lying if she said it wasn’t damn pretty.

Perhaps it was a magical thing, the girl had slotted aldite into it, after all. That was good. Old-fashioned archery would likely match the miniboros just fine, but if the mission grew a little more severe…well, the more Ianthe considered that possibility, the more grateful she was to have prospective mages on her side, like Luna, and the foppish Blaike, and…the other one. The winded one with the good sense of danger.

“Guess you’ll be writing all the ballads, then, about our mighty triumphs over the…ah…rioting cabbages,” She said, and offered Luna a smile in return. “Ianthe. Uh—I mean—my name is Ianthe.”

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

Forests, were unfamiliar territory for Ianthe. Aside from the crops, Argo had been a fairly desolate place insofar as flora were concerned. And fauna. And people. Desolate of just about everything but bandits and fiends, really. But the unfamiliar beasts hanging in the guild hall hadn’t dissuaded her, and a few trees certainly weren’t going to, either.

She hadn’t fussed over the supplies too much. Potions and the like were standard, as Balder had mentioned, and while the aldite was a slight divergence from that, the stones were—practically speaking—entirely useless to her. Ianthe had seen magic only a few times, and most often it was wielded by whatever eleventh-rate mage the bandits could get their hands on, or by a traveling magician visiting the market towns. Neither had particularly impressed her, but then, being inept with the arcane herself, she wasn’t exactly a good litmus for what was and was not “good” magic. Regardless of all that, the closest thing she had to slots in her arms and armor were the countless chips and dents riddling them. So the tiny gemstones stayed in their bag. Maybe they’d fetch a few extra coin when this was all over.

She kept her sword sheathed as they walked, though her hand rested upon the hilt, and the shield strapped to her offhand was more important if they were going to be ambushed. There was something wrong to her about traveling with a naked blade, something almost feral, like an invitation to violence. Weapons put people on edge, that was half their job, in her mind, and it seemed like most of their group was wound up tightly enough as it was.

She’d watched the tinker boy cobble together a few grenades, and that was entertaining, if completely beyond her. The spear-wielding girl joined her and Avaddon at the front with Balder, and that was pleasant. She was confident, like the rest, but less…abrasively. And that weapon, Ianthe guessed, had seen its share of uses.

Behind them, among the parts of the party she and the others at Balder’s side were meant to protect, Ianthe couldn’t help but notice Luna looked…off. Nervous was the word, like the boy Edgar had seemed back at the hall. Now that they’d left the warmth of the city though, and the tinker no longer seemed as worked up, Luna was still the same, if not worse. Ianthe had made a point not to judge those who looked out of place, but it would have been beyond bad form to leave that sort of nervousness unaddressed.

It was too bad she had absolutely no idea how to go about addressing it.

Confident that the trio of Balder, Avaddon and Mitra could handle the front for the moment, Ianthe dropped back a few paces, beside Luna. She gave the girl a gentle nudge with her elbow, hoping not to spook her, and offered a reassuring thumbs-up. Or maybe it was more of an inquisitive thumbs-up. Or maybe it just seemed patronizing, and made her look like an asshole. Maybe it was an asshole thumbs-up.

Words, Ianthe. You’re a big girl. Use your words.

“Hey,” she offered. “Uhm…cool bow.”

Cool bow. Cool Bow. Cool Bow. Cool Bow. Cool Bow. Cool Bow. Cool Bow.

You Can Become a Hero!

Kana blinked, and suddenly the assignments were through. People were starting to disperse, and as the crowd began to thin, so too did the invisible weight constricting her begin to lighten. Briefly, she allowed herself to believe that the hardest part was over, at least for the day.

"—Penny for your thoughts?"

“Wh—?” Kana nearly leapt at Wakako’s question, and her face flushed immediately. It shouldn’t have startled her, it wasn’t as though she’d forgotten the giant of a girl, nor that she’d said anything even remotely harsh. Perhaps she’d just expected that, though. People didn’t often call upon her with friendly intent, and she was usually right to be skittish whenever the name “Mutsuki” was mentioned.

“My…” She mumbled, fingers fidgeting over her bag.

You think it’d be an absolute disgrace for this poor girl, the daughter of an actual hero, to be stuck rooming with someone like you. If—no, when—something terrible happens, what do you think that’ll do to her future reputation? Or her mom’s reputation? If you had even the tiniest shred of decency you’d offer to transfer to another room. Maybe you’d get lucky, like Shun, and get cordoned off alone.

So much for the hard part being over.

“I…think it’s very nice to meet you, and…I…think I already said that. I did. I’m sorry.”

Before she could rail on herself for that one, a sudden commotion pulled her attention away, as their upperclassman guide took a rather unceremonious fall. Shun, thankfully—and with notably impressive speed—was at her side offering help.

Kana took the opportunity to push onward, and returned her attentions to Wakako. No, she was not jumping ship just yet. She would swallow that awful thought and stick by this. For now.

“Maybe…uhm…would you like to get our rooms settled, first? It’d be a little quieter, and we could talk. If—sorry—if you want.”

---

@Naw

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

Names, those were nice. She’d missed the opportunity to offer hers, but she was happy enough to learn the others. Mitra, Avaddon, Blaike, and some Alexandrians too, by their names, Edgar and Luna. The other woman hadn’t introduced herself though, so at least she didn’t feel singled out.

She was apprehensive to hear that Blaike worked with Cid’dan Falreath. She had no idea who Cid’dan Falreath was until that moment, but the words “Royal Scientist” sat uncomfortably with her. What was a man who worked in the lap of luxury doing here, trudging amongst the common folk?

It didn’t seem like she was about to get any answers. Avaddon, loud as he was, had moved forward with the comraderies, and while at first she’d found his boisterous nature somewhat endearing, what he said settled as unpleasantly with her as Blaike’s profession. It wasn’t as though he’d said anything wrong, but it stirred within her a familiar distaste for the lifestyle he lauded. The adventurer’s life.

“Wandering,” he called it. It was an appropriate word. An aimless journey, fueled by hope and the lust for excitement, something which had sparked the imaginations of plenty of Argo’s youths. There was nothing wrong with adventuring, of course, it was as skillful and respectable a life as any, but so often she’d heard—as she was hearing now—how easy it was to conflate adventuring with heroism. Ianthe was confident that the warmth Avaddon spoke of was real, but she was not convinced that it came from the joy of helping others. Rather, she’d always believed it was the glory that warmed them, the challenge of a worthy foe and the thrill of conquering it, the fame and recognition, and of course, the coin.

She respected the Hunters Guild, but the Hunters Guild had never come to Argo. There was no profit in it, no glory.

Of course, she was one to talk. She’d never stepped foot outside of her hometown before coming here, never thought about the problems facing the world beyond her own borders. Even now, it would have been a bold-faced lie to say she was more concerned with Ferris Wood than being paid for defending it.

No, Ianthe had decided long ago that heroes weren’t real. Ideas could be heroic, intentions could be heroic, but in this world, people could only be close—the Hunters Guild, fantastical and genuine as it might have been, was the perfect example.

Proctor Grescott handed out the risk sheets, and she wondered for a moment if any of them were actually going to back down. Who would possibly come this far just to turn tail now? The boy, Edgar, who was quite unassuming compared to the Alexandrian scientist and the man from Fabul, was the first to turn in his sheet. Brave, that one. She hoped he held onto that.

Finally rising from her seat, bones a bit stiff and nowhere near as rested as she liked, Ianthe scribbled her name in a barely-legible scrawl of someone who had never made a serious commitment to literacy, and handed it back to Grescott. Then she collected her things and made her way to the door alongside Edgar.

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

Ianthe

Ianthe listened while the room began to fill, and pursed her lips. She knew it was best that they get started soon—after all, the sooner they did the job, the sooner they got paid—but part of her wouldn’t have mourned another hour or so to sit there with her eyes shut, legs propped up on the junker of a shield she’d brought, trying to eek out a few minutes of true rest. Gods knew she hadn’t gotten any the night before.

The city was a lot of things. It smelled like industry, which was to say it smelled like the shit of an iron horse, but it was also burdensomely crowded and unrelentingly loud at every hour. She’d only just managed to find a room last night, with a hard bed and a window that wouldn’t shut, which let the sounds of city nightlife flood in until sunrise. Argo didn’t have a lot of things, but it did have silence, and she’d taken that for granted hard.

The Guild Hall had a homey quality to it at least. It looked handmade, sturdy. Ianthe recognized the heads of a few of the fiends she’d met at the border, and was pleased that the sights of the unfamiliar ones didn’t daunt her. There was, of course, a difference between bravery and stupidity, and it was a line drawn in the ever-important sand of self-confidence and self-assessment. Did she wish she’d come to this better equipped? Sure. The shield was, as she’d noted, a hunk of junk, a poorly-cut slab of metal with leather straps and shoddily-soldered grips. The sword wasn’t much better, but it was sharp and she kept it well cared-for. It would have been stupid to go into something like this, as she was, alone, and while she’d done her fair share of stupidly bold things as a youth, age and injury had tempered her well. Well enough to be thankful that there’d be a group of them going out.

Cracking an eye, she spotted a few noteworthy fellows. Big spears and frilly clothes were quick to catch the eye, but Ianthe knew the value of a humble appearance. It was easy to discount someone just because they looked like they didn’t belong. Ianthe wasn’t about to make that mistake.

Final Fantasy Crystallum en Absentia

big

Name
Ianthe

Race
Human

Age
22

Class
Fighter

Place of Origin
Alexandria

Personality
-More like PaciFIST
-Honor or gtfo
-Talk is cheap, but medicants are expensive
-Respect and provide for your peasantry so I know it’s real
-I want to like you, but I don’t have to like you to tank for you
-Sword and Bored
-If I hear the words “proper lineage” or “unfit for knighthood” one more time I am going to snap
-The strong who don’t protect the weak are weak themselves
-Motivate don’t dictate
-Just a small town girl
-Don’t have to worry about having big shoes to fill if your family can’t afford shoes

Backstory
Growing up along Alexandria’s border, Ianthe learned early what it was like being invisible. Argo was a small village of only a dozen or so families, most of which were farmers. Ianthe’s parents maintained meager if consistent crops, and made their living at the markets of bigger towns. The Alexandrian regency only ever remembered them when the levies were due, and the soldiers came knocking, equal parts expectant and disdainful of the place and its people. They didn’t care whether the harvests were barren or bounteous, they didn’t care if the bandits had come through and left them empty, the payment could be coin, it could be property, it could be conscription, so long as the crown received its due.

The bandits who trolled the edge of the Free Cities, fearing no retaliation, had fallen into a routine with Argo. They came, they took, and if they felt generous, they left enough for the levies. The fiends had no mind for negotiation, and though they came more rarely, their attacks never went without casualty. When it became clear that no help was coming, no matter how desperate Argo’s pleas, most of the families resigned themselves to their fate.

Not Ianthe.

They didn’t have weapons, really. Farm tools and slabs of wood bound with rope were just about all she had to work with, at first. She was tough, weathered even as a girl, and put up enough of a fight against the smaller bands to drive them off. She gathered scraps of armor and shoddy old swords this way, which came in handy, because meeting fiends with nothing but an old scythe and hammer wasn’t going to cut it. Hell, the bandits’ rusty swords and roughshod armor only just had her scraping by.

Iron and steel sated the taxmen just fine, and the viscera of fiends pulled interest at the markets, which meant that Argo was, for the first time, making a profit.

As Ianthe grew older, the bandits grew indignant and sparse, the fiends only grew fiercer, and the international relations grew tense, but by gods were the levies as steady as the day she was born. People had begun noticing Argo’s greater contributions to the markets, and eventually word began to spread of Ianthe and the few villagers who had taken up Argo’s defense alongside her, too stubborn to just roll over and let fate befall them. Merchants tried to hire her on for protection, mercenary bands offered her more money than Argo had paid since she was a child, even the regency came asking after her enlistment, citing her duty to the crown, and to the people of Alexandria. It was the Hunters Guild that intrigued her.

Ianthe, admittedly, was not very adventurous. She had a small life in a small home, and had spent most of her years focused on protecting it. The Hunters Guild, however, was genuine in a way that she admired: it wasn’t about debt, or civic duty, it was just about keeping people safe. She understood that, she respected that, but she couldn’t reconcile leaving home for it. Not until the borders shut, suddenly and almost inexplicably, and the levies increased. It seemed as though Alexandria had entered into some sort of national emergency, perhaps even all of Atles.

It was then she realized that Argo had overestimated its profits. With the borders shut, that meant the Free City markets and bandits were gone, which left only the distant Alexandrian markets, whose competition had only grown fiercer. They could bring crops, but they couldn’t match prices. Soon they would be back where they started, penniless and at the mercy of the regency.

So, Ianthe made a difficult choice. She left Argo in the care of the men and women who had protected it with her, and set off for the Hunters Guild. She hopes the steady work, and maybe a bit of luck, will be enough to keep her home above water until Atles settles down.

If it settles down.

You Can Become a Hero!

Kana had a knot in her stomach the size of an anchor.

The big girl who stepped forward had a familiar name. Not overtly familiar, but there was a time when it had seemed beneficial for Kana to know some of the more famous heroes, at least by name, and Tanegashima seemed too unique to be a coincidence.

It ought to have excited her. It was exciting after all. Getting to share a room with the daughter of a famous hero, getting to see firsthand what that sort of parental-guidance could create, what a hero was supposed to be like. The Tanegashima girl looked like a testament to hard work and diligence, was that her own mother’s doing? With how…rowdy some of the other students had seemed from the brief time she’d been around them, it seemed as though Kana had struck oil insofar as roommates went.

She still felt like she was about to be sick.

The look on Aia’s face was more familiar to her than her roommate’s name. The furrowed brows, the confusion, the feeling of that can’t be right, can it? Was it her mother’s name they knew, or her alias? Sometimes people didn’t ask questions, they just jumped to—admittedly correct—conclusions. Aia, however, took an extra step.

I was wrong, Kana thought. Lie. Definitely lie. She gave you an out. Say you’re from Kagoshima, that’s still kind-of true.

“Uhm…”

Yeah, okay. Or just stand there like some mute freak. Cool.

Blessedly, or at least so for the moment, someone else interjected. A girl that Kana could describe instinctually as “pretty,” and then more thoughtfully as…“blue.” She seemed to recognize the Tanegashima girl—Wakako, she’d heard Aia say—and the Tanegashima girl only.

It was enough of an opportunity for Kana to shuffle over to Wakako and politely bow her head. “Hello. It’s…very nice to meet you.”

There was a rather significant difference in height between them, and while it seemed a bit crass, Kana found herself, almost on reflex, standing with Wakako between her and the cat-eared upperclassmen, as if she might suddenly—hopefully—become invisible.

---

@Naw