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@the-burdened-blade
me: “I’m not sure I’m going to make one of these, it seems like a huge timesink. What do I even write down.” also me: “Well here we are.”
Rules: Respond to this with a reblog containing your filled out bingo! Want to make your own? Template available >>here<<
Enea is retired, but when I read this one i couldn’t help myself fill it out for her. You can see why. Do I get a prize?
Strong and Unified
This piece features prose contributions from @onwesterlywinds, @thelegendofivalice, @ivaan-ffxiv, @red-dlai, @thinkofduty, and @reflectionsofacreator.
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Enea unsheathed her greatsword from her back. As she lifted it, the rays of sunset reflected on the beads that adorned the necklace she attached to its hilt. Dark aspected aether filled her from within before plunging her sword into the ground
“We’ve been through so much.” She spoke, not only to herself, but to the memories of those that didn’t make it. The resistance members she helped train back at Reach, those that fought for freedom and died victims to their forefathers wars. She spoke to the memories of her friends who went missing in action.
“It is time to rest… Thank you.” Melancholy rung on her voice as the aether left her body. Her soul stone pulsated like a weakening heartbeat, it’s rhythm slower and slower as the light that glowed within banished. She reached for the stone to place it on the ground as an offering. Like blood red sand the stone disintegrated between her fingers, carrying her burden with the wind.
Ephitaph of The Burdened Blade. 2.5.
A wip. Out of internet today so I missed some quality rp and now you get a picture taken from my phone.
The idea being Enea leaves behind the sword she used all this rp arc in the graveyard of Ala Mhigo after its liberation. She carried in her back the hopes and dreams of those that couldn’t make it. The sword now the tombstone and Epithet of those that can now rest.
The heaviest necklace.
Enea walked the hallways of the Sandsea. It was almost time to return to the front-lines. There was much to be done, but she wanted to bring along one last thing. Memories of the ‘ghosts’ she’s seen rushed her head. The people of her village, the lost souls asking for help in the Palace of the Dead, the mihgans she helped train and that perished in the attack to Rhalgr’s Reach.
“We are coming home soon.” Her heart felt heavy as she stood in front of a room she had never enter before. “We are just taking one more burden with us.”
She stood in front of Sylvan Rain’s room.
Enea though of knocking but decided against it, quietly intruding inside. Her mind wondered. The few times they got to fight side by side. The immense respect she felt for the roegadyn. The time she almost gathered the courage to ask her for training. The time she watched silently from the sidelines as Sylvan left for the Far East. How that was the last time those who stay behind saw her, the sun as her beacon and her mother’s relic at her side.
“Maybe we could had been good friends.” Enea whispered to herself as she looked for something. After some search she found a peculiar necklace she remembered Sylvan wore a few occasions, especially during Ashelia’s wedding. The miqo’te examined the piece before securing it to the pummel of her great-sword. The necklace itself was a few onzes, but it felt immensely heavy. “You were great and you were noble-” Her voice quivers. “Maybe I am not the one who should do this... But we are going home now... and you are coming with us.”
An Epithet to The Burdened Blade. part 2
What this character meant to me:
Being the first one I made, this one was a bold step into the world of roleplay.
Her story was filled a lot of tragedy and angst. Too much if I were to look back at it. Maybe because at the time my love for tragedies was at a peak. Maybe I just over did it when I try to make it so she didn’t knew where she was from.
Torture, mutilation, kidnaping, slavery, a life of poverty in the streets and loosing the only person close to her before she became an adventurer.
She lost everything, and then lost everything again. BUT SHE STOOD UP, SHE FOUGHT, SHE KEPT WALKING. and I think that was her point. She was frail, silent and nervous. She put on armor and a shield and she walked forth.
She had a life magnitudes worst than my own but she kept going. She never gave up.
She was broken and shattered. She was scarred inside and out and she felt her body to be worthless and second rate. She felt herself to be unlovable, without merit.
But she found friends, she found love and she found a home. She learn to let go and put her guard down, she learned to smile and chuckle. She learned that drinking with friends is way better, even when you become a bit of a kleptomaniac.
To me Enea is that light at the end of the tunnel. Is a self reminder that sometimes you just need to put one foot in front of the other. Eventually you will come home.
An Epitaph to The Burdened Blade. Part 1
My usual character rambles, this time with more Oomph.
It has moved from being something a few people know to something that is more known, so I wanted to write about this.
I will be retiring Enea following the end of the current Risk rp arc. There is already a character made and polish to be my Riskbreaker so I am not going anywhere.
The reasons for this are many, and i have trouble finding the right words to express it.
Long story short, her story was completed a while back. This is one of the first characters i made for RP ever and she has gone through a LOT of tweaking over the years. I think it is time to give her a much deserved happy ending and use what I have learned to make a kick ass new character with RISK in mind.
Make a new character with the specific campaign in mind. If the feedback I have gotten for dear Priscilla is any indication I am well on the right track.
It's Not Like I Planned To Ship It
A novel by me
Ashelia Riot is staring out over the falls, very much lost in thought. Enea Mohnesh approaches silently. Her face, paler than normal, carry bags indicating tiredness, crying, or both. She tries to utter a greeting but ends up just sitting down, making her pressence known. Ashelia Riot: “Enea.” Ashelia Riot breathes a sigh of relief, but when she sees the woman’s face, she doesn’t know what else, if anything, to say. Enea Mohnesh: “Lady Ashe. How are you faring?” Enea Mohnesh attempts a polite smile. Ashelia Riot stands, and makes to approach her friend. Ashelia Riot: “Well enough. I was… I was worried for you, but I’m glad you’ve managed to find us here.” Ashelia Riot doesn’t yet ask what Enea Mohnesh was doing; truth be told, she envies her the ability to cry privately right now. Enea Mohnesh: “Sorry to make you worry. What… what do we do now?” Ashelia Riot: “We gather ourselves here, if only for the time being.” Ashelia Riot sighs again. Ashelia Riot: “Bull knows people here in Ala Gannha - friends of his late mother - but I dare not linger here if there is any chance that the imperials might track us. It would put too many innocent lives in danger.” Enea Mohnesh nods, relieved to find hope in Ashelia Riot’s words. Enea Mohnesh: “I agree, the hospitality is most welcome, I would hate for them to suffer for their kindness. If there is anything I can do to help just say the word. Twelve know I need to keep myself busy, my sleep have not being pleasant.” Ashelia Riot steps forward and places a hand on Enea Mohnesh’s shoulder. Ashelia Riot: “How are you feeling? Are you fully recovered from…” Ashelia Riot can’t bring herself to say Zenos yae Galvus’s name. Ashelia Riot: “…the duel?” Enea Mohnesh looks away momentarily. Enea Mohnesh: “He….” Enea Mohnesh focuses back on Ashelia Riot. Enea Mohnesh: “He was /strong/. Stronger than I thought possible. Like he has lived his life for the purpose of fighting /and then some/.” Enea Mohnesh places a hand on her chest, where the legatus’s last hit wounded her. Enea Mohnesh: “I am still recovering, full glad I got healed when I did. But that is just physically… There were some things I wanted to talk to you about.” Ashelia Riot: “Of course.” Ashelia Riot glances at the spot Enea Mohnesh touches, then looks back up to her face. Ashelia Riot: “I’ll answer what I can.” Enea Mohnesh: “I keep having… visions of sorts. Started a while back, but died down until this last fight. Maybe is my mind and my worries playing tricks, but I saw the life and death of some of the Resistance members. Their lives under imperial heel, the hope in joining the fight. I see myself, from their eyes as I helped them trained and then their deaths by the hands of the Skulls.” Enea Mohnesh’s eyes tear up again. Ashelia Riot’s face grows serious, then sad. Ashelia Riot: “What kind of visions? Dreams at night? Premonitions during the day? Or something else?” Enea Mohnesh: “Usually at night, of people who already died. With what happened days ago it only got more frequent.” Ashelia Riot: “I see.” Ashelia Riot wishes she could offer some sort of comfort, knowing all the while that there is none. Still, Enea Mohnesh is an experienced warrior; if even /she/ is affected by nightmares as a result of Rhalgr’s Reach, then any advice she might have had would be useless. Ashelia Riot: “I… I don’t often dream of things that I myself have seen. I wish I could help in some way, but all of my sleeping aids are back at the house.” Enea Mohnesh: “We will made do, friend. There are more pressing matters than my nightmares. Besides, if your algoat horn paste could work miracles for a wound I am sure someone here might have a remedy for me.” Enea Mohnesh offers a genuine smile. Ashelia Riot beams with delight at Enea Mohnesh. Ashelia Riot: “Still. It’s important to get as much rest as you can. If you still feel exhausted when you wake up in the morning, don’t worry about contributing to operations. It’ll be important to stay rested while we are able.” Enea Mohnesh nods. Enea Mohnesh: “We don’t want to be exhausted if they come again. Speaking of, I should procure some chunk of metal I can swing around.” Enea Mohnesh gestures to her missing sword. Ashelia Riot: “Gods, I… I didn’t even realize.” Ashelia Riot looks a little panicky to see that Enea Mohnesh’s sword is gone. Ashelia Riot: “I’ll make as many discreet inquiries as I can.” Enea Mohnesh: “Maybe it will still be on one piece when we retake Reach.” Enea Mohnesh lets out half a smile, a bit more life returning to her eyes. Enea Mohnesh: “But enough of that. I will go on a watch and see if I can secure some provissions. Don’t want to impose on their generosity too much.” Ashelia Riot nods. Ashelia Riot: “A good idea. I’ll be awake if you need anything. Anything at all.” Ashelia Riot hesitates, biting her lip, then continues her thoughts. Ashelia Riot: “…It may be just the five of us now.” Enea Mohnesh’s heart skips a beat at her words. Enea Mohnesh: “… For now. If- If I can see the lives of the departed, I will take solace I have not seen our friends.” Ashelia Riot: “…There is that. Regardless. Good hunting. I’ll help you prepare whatever it is you bring back.” Enea Mohnesh salutes Ashelia Riot. Enea Mohnesh: “Be safe.”
Enea walked around the Peaks, each step frail and weakened. She carried no sword and wore no armor. The Riskbreakers had managed to escape from the assault Rhalgr’s Reach by the skin of their teeth. While Etone managed to heal the wounds Enea sustained, the old scars that marked her face burned like that first night. She tried to walk back to the Reach but her feet could carry her no longer… she hid and tried to rest.
The Miqo'te thought she could still hear the crackle of the fire and smell the stench of ceruleum. She tried to brush away the grief and the sadness. She knew there was work to be done. The fighting was not over.
And then it hit her, a pain on her head as her vision blurred. She staggered, and as she came to, her surroundings changed. The time of day and her footing was different. The hands her eyes saw were bigger, darker and callous. This person’s build suggested that they belonged to a man from Ala Mhigo .
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The fighting spills out into the courtyard, with Skulls and Lupin putting tents to the torch. One Skull aims for the tent belonging to the Riskbreakers as Enea arrives to support Crimson Bull. The scene quickly turning to that of fire, blood and destruction. The scene too similar to one that took her home away. But she is not a child anymore. She grips her sword and grit her teeth, a swirling of shadows and aether. She doesnt say much but fights her way to Crimson Bull’s back.
“Come to join in the fun!? There’s plenty for everyone!” he lets out a mighty laugh and charges forward, swinging at anything resembling an enemy.
“Excuse me Mister Bull.” She says as politely as she can, a great deal of anger in her voice. She runs towards the Skull reaching for the Riskbreaker’s tent, using Crimson Bull’s back as a launching point, her light and nimble body coming overhead to cleave the assaliant. The Skull falls; in the distance behind him, emerging from behind a column of flame, can be seen Legatus Zenos yae Galvus of the XIIth Legion. He stands and waits, sizing his new toys in search of a potential challenge.
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Ashelia Riot leads them to a spot in the Peaks that’s little more than an alcove in the cliff face, but it serves their purpose of a hideout for the time being. Ashelia Riot sets down an injured Enea Mohnesh as gently as she is able. Ashelia Riot: Nive’s gone. Ashelia Riot’s voice is still matter-of-fact; she turns on her linkpearl and hears only static. Ashelia Riot: Damn! Etone Greennote kneels beside Enea, huffing and gasping for breath as he attempts to work healing energy into the prone Miqo'te. Crimson Bull looks to Ashelia Riot, frustration and anger weighing heavy on his mind. Ashelia Riot: There was never any Vegnagun. We’ve sent the others into an ambush. Enea Mohnesh lies on the ground, her breathing a bit stable as she slowly opens her eyes. Enea Mohnesh: Ugh… where- where are we? Enea Mohnesh tries to sit up but the sharp pain suggests her to do otherwise. Enea Mohnesh: Agh! Ashelia Riot: The Peaks. Ashelia Riot stares up at the smoke coming from the Reach; some part of her father’s memories reaches her, and she feels physically ill for a moment before she is able to push the sensation away. Crimson Bull stands, throwing a mighty punch into the cliffside. Crimson Bull: We never had a chance, did we… Ashelia Riot hesitates for a very long moment, then shakes her head. Crimson Bull sighs, and without a word, begins to limp away. Enea Mohnesh strikes her fist to the ground, and remnants of aether and shadows wave away as tears roll down her face.
I left the tunnels below the reach in time to watch Meffrid Noward being run through. His killer was young, younger even than me. Though she led her own unit of Garlean troops, the rage in her eyes marked her as an Ala Mhigan.
But a girl in red took up the fight against her once Meffrid fell, and I was halfway across the courtyard, and I was drawing too deeply on my father’s energies to entertain grandiose notions of vengeance for a man whom I had not truly known since the darkest years of my life. I permitted the Echo to wash over me, just as my namesake had done in this same place so many years ago when he laid siege to the Temple of the Fist. I let go of Hirokage’s words, of the strange specter I had seen in his cell, of the knowledge that every Riskbreaker I had sent to the Far East was likely dead or in chains - until nothing at all remained but intuition.
Some of the worst damage dealt to the Resistance came from the XIIth’s magitek armor; more suits were gathered in the Reach than I had seen in one place since the Praetorium. For them I used every grenade in my arsenal, and some sufficed to disable or incinerate their cermet cores.
And then the legatus himself walked through the columns of smoke. Even before he threw Crimson Bull back, even before he cut down Enea Mohnesh, I knew we would only have one course.
It was my first order of retreat since the company’s founding.
Bereft of Hearth and Home
In the moons and weeks leading up to the incident at Baelsar’s Wall and the Riskbreakers’ subsequent push into Gyr Abania, Ashelia Riot had often described to her loved ones her sense that something was coming in the near future, gathering on the horizon like a storm. That same sense weighed heavily on her mind for most of the day upon her return to Rhalgr’s Reach, as thick and oppressive as humidity.
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Ivaan Arkwright: That is an impressive axe, Mister Bull. Where did you find it? Enea Mohnesh waved her hand as she approached the pair in the middle of a conversation. Her face carried the faintest smile. Crimson Bull: It’s a long story, but… Crimson Bull looked to the axe, smiling. Crimson Bull: It belonged to my mother, left behind when she fled Ala Mhigo. I’m assumin’ she thought she’d be back for it. It’s a fine piece. Enea Mohnesh: Greetings… Ivaan Arkwright: “Incredible…” Ivaan Arkwright looked over his shoulder upon hearing Enea Mohnesh, and turned to face her. Crimson Bull looked to Enea Mohnesh, a large grin on his face. Crimson Bull: Oh, well hello there! I remember you, from the meeting! Don’t believe we’ve met though. Enea Mohnesh nodded to Ivaan Arkwright’s acknowledgement. Enea Mohnesh: That can be fixed. I am Enea, my pleasure. Enea Mohnesh bowed courteously to Crimson Bull. Ivaan Arkwright: Welcome to the Vanguard division, Miss Mohnesh. We are glad to have some reinforcement, things have been stretched a little thin.
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Your scars are a warning to all future monsters, of the hell you have survived before them, every demon you vanquished, and every battle you won.
Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)
The road to the resistance was arduous and perilous. In contrast to the other side of the wall, this side was a battleground filled with vestiges of a lost war and the brimstone of the ongoing conflict. Enea avoided a few Garlean patrols as she made her way to the encampment, patiently observing their routes and choosing the paths with the least amount of risk. She could not afford unnecessary fights when she carried supplies and food for the Reach.
The Reach was breathtaking, even in its almost ruined state, the waterfall and the statue of Rahlgr imposing over the Ala Mhigan Resistance. For a moment she forgot the gruesome battlefield at her back and she stood there to take in the scene. Moments later she was stopped by resistance member, snapping her back to the mission at hand. She stated her name and her cause, was shown around the area, and escorted to the storage rooms so she could finish her delivery.
Her mission was done. I should wait for further instructions, she thought for but a second before shaking her head. I will make myself useful. Her acute senses and her predilection for dark places made her choice simple: the night shift.
And so she found a place to station herself at night, a higher vantage point where she had clear view of the points of entrance and her fellow allies. The night was quiet but busy. There was no celebration , no music. The only pleasure some of these soldiers allowed themselves was a drink - maybe not even pleasure and just a relief from their pain and what they have endured. The people here fought to free their land and their people. They fought to remove the shackles of oppression. They fought for retribution against their oppressors.
Here we fight the continuation our fathers’ lost war, so the next generation won’t have to suffer. With the statue of Rahlrg as witness, she vowed to see the liberation of Ala Mhigo to the bitter end.
