#garlean wol

[radioinactivity]

we’re both machines in our own way

[vwffxivocs]

Made some art of Mireille/Ava! This is taken right before her deployment in the Eorzean theater.

[jenessa-mercier]

Everything was wrong. Her limbs were too short, the armor didn't fit quite right, and each step threatened to trip her in the snow with legs that she was used to being a full three ilms longer. And that wasn't even getting into the sensation of utter wrongness that pervaded her being, the sword in her hand familiar and yet alien as she glared at the standard issued sword of the Garlean army.

It was a cruel joke, Jenessa stepping over the unfortunate opponent that had attacked her, his body already cooling in the fierce Garlean winter. Everything in her body ached; this body was not nearly as strong as her own, Jenessa moving through the alleys and destroyed buildings with the ease of a lifetime of navigating the capital. The patrols were evaded despite her inexperience with her forcibly swapped body, nearly tripping and banging on debris that she would normally avoid.

The few lone tempered soldiers she encountered were dealt with as best as she could, doing what she could to spare them in the hopes they could be treated later. But as severely weakened as she was meant, that less than she would have liked were rendered unconscious rather than slain, having to fight tooth and nail to keep herself safe.

Her stolen body heaved, crimson spilling through the mouth vented helm, an errant heavy blow from her previous opponent having smashed against her chest, and judging from the pain, at least several ribs had been broken at the very least. It was becoming clear that her time was running out, Jenessa forcing herself to breathe normally even as she could feel the wetness in her throat. Gods, it hurt more to not breathe...

The sound of conflict drew her attention, her head turning as she beheld a group of Garlean soldiers fighting a group of the tempered while civilains in winter clothes ran for the outskirts of the city, following the tracks towards the waystation where Julius and his crew had been holing up. It was like a jolt of aether through her body, Jenessa forcing herself to her feet and towards the conflict. Each unsteady step was quicker than the last, crimson marking her path as she reached a full sprint.

The tempered about to behead his kinsamn was crashed into with all the force her body could muster, the hoplon smashing against his helm with enough force to send the tempered sprawling across the ground. A wordless hand yanked her kinsman to his feet, Jenessa falling into formation in the line with the ease of a thousand drills as for a moment, she was not the Warrior of Light but once again, another soldier fighting to protect her people.

Her body screamed in protest with each swing, lungs burned, and the arcs of crimson marked the desperate struggle to buy the fleeing civilains as much time as possible. Blows were felt, ignored, and returned, the Garlean having no choice but to trust in this body's gear to keep her going.

The sound of a shuddering walker charging its primary cannons drew her attention too late. One of her kinsman's screaming about its core overloading reached her ears half a second before it detonated.

There was no sound. No light.

Agony.

She opened not her eyes behind a ruined helm, her limbs feeling like they weighed a tonze, forcing herself to a sitting position. The walker was no more, a smoking crater of ruined machinery and cerelum. Any standing close to the explosion no longer resembled figures as much as blackened messes of ruined metal and meat. Some of the others had fared better, looking over the fellows and urging others up.

One grabbed her shoulder now, speaking, but she didn't acknowledge him as she pushed herself to her feet, her armor smoking and ruined. The heraldy on her armor was still burning in places as she paused long enough to withdraw the scant few medical supplies she had scrounged, wordlessly pushing them into the youth's hands.

She didn't know how she looked, but the fear in the young man's face told her enough. Taking her fallen sword and pressing the other hand to her ruined side, Jenessa moved away from the survivors of her temporary company. Shifting her attention in the direction of Camp Brolen Glass, she began to walk; one agonizing step after the other, her boots no longer scraped the snow, crimson now lining her strides.

She prayed the few lives she had saved would not come at the cost of others.

[cassandra-wol]

Well after the events of Endwalker, Cassandra asked her father if he would like to join her and the rest of the family on the island. As his role in Werlyt was winding down and, although his age and the years had made his role in Werlyt further into the past, he was still a painful reminder to some and so he accepted a graceful retirement and took her up on the offer.

As Gaius grew older, the warmth was appreciated as it was gentle on his aging joints and body... especially as arthritis caught up to his knees.

[witchofthegermanforest]

Finally got the Bomber Dragon

[marionmaverick]

A rushed attempt at Eryn’s mom and dad. I love them and their secretly anarchist beliefs.  Hopefully living their best lives and were smart enough to get the heck out of dodge. 

[remnants-of-a-star]

I had a dream about us once. We were happy.

[porta-decumana]

Compromised - Part 4: And Each Their Role to Play

Full Chapter Here

Gaius’s office was usually where the Wolf was found and Cassius was brazen enough to waltz in without knocking.  A mistake, clearly, that he realized too late.  He came through the door and found that the viceroy was not alone.  His company gave even the confident Cassius a moment of pause.

The Black Wolf sat in his armchair behind his desk, a surprised expression crossing his usual stoic face.  Before him stood a man cloaked in black cloth, adored with strange markings unlike any that Cassius had ever seen.  When the man turned to glance at him over his shoulder, only the lower half of his face was visible.  The rest was covered in a crimson mask, a grim expression etched into it.

And who is this, I wonder?  ‘Tis not like Gaius to mingle with those outside of his inner circle.  Nor strange Eorzean sorcerers for that matter.

“Am I interrupting something?” Cassius finally managed out.

“Cassius…” Gaius began, voice husky and low.  And then his amber eyes moved to the hooded figure.  “Apologies, Lahabrea.  I can send him away if—”

“There is no need,” came the hooded figure’s abrupt retort, looking from Cassius to Gaius.  “I do believe we were concluding our meeting.”

“… Very well,” Gaius replied.

Cassius watched as Lahabrea extended a hand, a dark flame of magic bursting just ilms away.  The blond instinctively drew back, almost colliding with the door behind him.  The magic grew until it was roughly the same size as a hyur, emanating a strange aura.  Lahabrea cast another look to Cassius before stepping into the magic, vanishing a second later.  The darkness faded in a blink of an eye and Cassius was left standing there wondering if he had gone mad lately.

“Care to explain who that was?” Cassius looked to Gaius.

The Black Wolf looked none too pleased about the question.  “An unexpected ally.”

Cassius sat across from Gaius, brows still arched high.  He was not one to judge books by their covers but perhaps a bit of judgment was merited here.  “Ah yes.  My favorite ally.  The mysterious hooded man with evil magicks.”