Excerpts from Adoulin

[Slycer]

This is a story discussion thread so I think we're safe to talk outside of spoilers.

At any rate, I don't think the mention of death has anything to do with anything. It just seems like the maid decided to spill a bit of the diary, which itself was only intended to be released after Arciela's death, to the public. Not that Arciela is dead or dying or whatever (the maid talks about Arciela in the present tense in the same note).

[Malithar]

True, but was thinking more of foreshadowing something that may happen towards the conclusion of SoA, rather than something wrong with her in the present. Nothing really to go off of, but I get a feeling there's much more to the sword she carries than we, or anyone currently in the storyline (except prolly Teodor, that fuck) knows.

[Kohan]

Can we all just agree that Teodor is the stupidest fucking name ever?

It's a real name that's still in use today, presuming you didn't know.

[Malithar]

New excerpt posted. Of note, there's also a synopsis of the current missions on the same page on the left, just click Summary.

Spoiler: show

Melvien's Personal Reflections: Fruits of Labor

Again I am confronted with the one subject that causes my head to spin and haunts my very dreams—the rift that the colonization movement has opened between Adoulin's citizens. The gap between the two factions widens with each passing day, and I fear that it will soon be impossible to construct a bridge long enough to span the chasm.

I consider myself a competent and devoted minister and council member, but this issue is fast seeming to prove too much for even me.

To wit, I met with someone staunchly opposed to colonization the other day who called for the closure of our Civic Arboretum.

I know not from whence he got wind of this information, but he was acutely aware of Chancellor Ygnas' clandestine support of the greenhouse. It appeared to me as if this information stoked the man's defiance, but any right-minded opponent of the movement should be overjoyed to hear that the city is striving toward self-sufficiency.

Should the fear mongers prevail and we retreat from the hinterland, we will no longer be able to rely on the good graces of the pioneers or the mountains of foodstuffs and fur they bring back with them from the jungle. Does anyone in Adoulin truly believe we can subsist only on that which we hunt and harvest on the archipelago? I sincerely hope not.

It boggles the mind how dogmatic people can be. Though the herd of colonization detractors should be concerned with the nation's welfare and thus the survival of the arboretum, they instead cast aspersions on the facility because it is supported by a prominent colonization proponent. The ignorance behind these acts is simply astounding.

While this is certainly unsettling, the more serious issue arises from within our own ranks—a faction of initiative supporters who argue that the Civic Arboretum should be abolished because it defeats the purpose of colonization. Their argument is that if such a facility exists, then we must surely be able to feed the whole of Adoulin, and therefore render pioneers and their services meaningless.

This line of thinking is quite possibly the gravest misunderstanding I have encountered in recent memory. The Civic Arboretum is currently nothing more than a place of research; the amount of vegetables grown there is insufficient to feed even a settlement, let alone a city such as Adoulin.

Others put their faith in the new MHMU-run plots of land our current government initiated on the archipelago, but only time will tell if they will provide the key to freeing our nation from the threat of starvation. We must resist putting all our eggs in one basket when it will take so long for them to hatch, especially since these gardens mostly benefit pioneers and not the public.

The Civic Arboretum must not be closed, but at the same time, I realize the facility does have its drawbacks. As the minister of finance, it pains me to continue allocating the alliance's budget to a mere "experiment" time after time. Should money get tighter than it already is, I fear that shutting down the arboretum would be unavoidable.

The only way to rectify this quandary is simple theoretically, yet excruciatingly difficult to implement in practical terms—the crops grown there need to sell. They need to be at least as delicious and appealing as those found in the Ulbukan wilderness.

According to Chalvava, though many speak of the tainted soil that covers much of the hinterland and the fevers caused by ingesting its bounty, oases of pristine and fecund terrain also exist.

These areas are supposedly so perfectly adapted to breeding plant life that should pioneers clear a stretch of their land one day, the flora will completely reclaim its domain the next as if it had never faced the blades or sickles of intruders. This phenomenon is reported to occur in pockets throughout the continent, so it is neither a localized incident nor a fluke.

Think of the possibilities if we could study and then harvest the secrets of these oases; we would be able to expand our agricultural repertoire in the waterways and ensure a stable source of food for the nation. The only cause for trepidation, however, would be finding the proper party to carry out the studies. Of course we could always ask the pioneers, but should we really burden them with our own problems more than we already have?

Come to think of it, I too have trod upon the jungle floor deep within the Ulbukan mainland. My father was an avid botanist and collector of both minerals and blossoms. He would often make pilgrimages into the wilds to sate his ever-growing desire to secure rare specimens, and he would occasionally bring me along. Those days, however, are naught but a distant haze of abstraction at the present. I do not possess the expertise necessary to...

That tangent aside, the essence of my argument is that our underground agrarian experiment is still not nearly as successful as its more mysterious and aboveground natural phenomenon. The plants grown down there develop more slowly and lack in both appearance and flavor.

I first tried the ruddy tomatoes grown in the waterways thanks to Chalvava, who warned me "This is the only-wonly thing we grow that'd be worth selling." The lackluster manner in which she presented them caused me to lower my guard considerably, and I was not prepared for the undeniably juicy sweetness that graced my tongue upon biting through its gently resistant surface. Apparently she and her subordinates had yet to begin the harvest in earnest, but there was no doubting the appeal of this succulent vegetable.



Though the first seedlings the researchers received were brought back by Arciela from one of the jungle's agricultural oases, it is exactly these origins that vex me the most. Shop patrons do not want to put something into their bodies that is associated with a vile and terrifying land that could possibly be cursed. While heuristics such as this are certainly not logical, they are an ineffable part of people's consciences.

Now, how to go about overcoming these negative associations... How do I sway the populace to purchase these tomatoes instead of their clearly inferior counterparts from the Middle Lands?

Wait a moment... What if... Yes!

If people's image of the Ulbukan jungle is the issue, then why bother mentioning it at all? The tomatoes themselves are grown in the Rala Waterways beneath our fair city of Adoulin, so why not emphasize the area in which they are raised rather than the place from which they originated? I could kick myself for not having thought of this sooner!

The only way I know Arciela brought the first specimens back from the mainland was because Chalvava let it slip after fielding numerous questions from me about the topic...

Therefore, it is likely that only a handful of people are privy to the tomatoes' true provenience.

Thus, why not dub them "Adoulinian tomatoes?" If the public then assumes the name refers to its origins, all the better for us. Moreover, "Adoulin" is oft seen as a land of opportunity for adventurers from the Middle Lands, which bodes well for our sales abroad as well as here at home.

As an added benefit, if we can convince the citizenry that the tomatoes are not from the jungle, then the colonization movement's detractors may lower their voice of opposition. Ygnas may still support colonization, but it will seem as if the facility is a completely separate matter.

Finally, if I were to inform colonization supporters that the tomatoes hail from the woods of Ulbuka, they would have to cease their hostility towards the arboretum. As long as I can keep that fact secret from the movement's opposition, neither side will have reason to complain.

This just might work.
One thing still bothers me, though. Could Ygnas have foreseen this turn of events when he made his decision to openly support the Civic Arboretum?

I never picked him for a particularly cunning individual, but...


Melvien de Malecroix

[Yugl]

http://www.playonline.com/ff11us/adoulin/index.html

Melvien's Personal Reflections: Curses from on High

What have I been thinking?

I had originally endeavored only to record those things that would prove of use in the future, as if the difficulties suffered today would (laughably!) lead us to a brighter tomorrow.

Never did I expect such dark clouds to hang over our horizons. The curse of the founder king certainly erred on the side of the…primal.

The existence of such a malediction has been known to me for some time, and I took care to pour over the tomes in Celennia Memorial Library to glean whatever information I could from historical accounts.

Other than the original conquest by the founder king, there has been only one large-scale attempt at taming the Ulbukan wildlands—a time we refer to as the "Great Expedition". The founder king's curse, predictably, befell our sacred city those many centuries ago.


The annals state that the founder king's ghost appeared in the bedrooms of the heads of each order to issue a warning. Strange phenomena occurred all throughout the city, and accident after coincidental accident struck at the heart of each colonization base.

In this, our newest foray into the continent, it was Ygnas himself who bore the brunt of the founder king's ire. Logical, to be sure.

But who among us would have surmised it would take a form so rooted to the land?

http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...020102/ss1.png

What happens to a man when he loses his humanity, when fingers become tendrils and flesh becomes fiber? Does he retain his faculties, or does the beast within take over?

I feel that Ygnas S. Adoulin is no longer worthy of being called a person. So how can he claim to speak for us all? Why should we pay his "telepathic musings" any heed?

And what of that pioneer? Am I to accept at face value the assertion that one so disconnected from our land can hear what the rest of us cannot?

Perhaps what looks like a monster can only think like one. If so, is it wise to trust in their words?

Yet my trepidation does not cease there. In fact, the mere thought of bringing this up before the others freezes the blood within my veins.

Was the curse really the result of recommencing the pioneering initiative? Or was he already bewitched, and his ceaseless orders to press ever forward were but a symptom of something that affected him?

It pains me to even consider this very real possibility, and causes me to reevaluate his every action up until this point.

Was this truly what caused him to lose his humanity?

http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...010101/ss3.png

Melvien de Malecroix
Male Elvaan

The leader of the Order of Woltaris, one of Adoulin's Twelve Orders. During his schooling he was consistently at the top of his class, and was widely lauded as a genius—as too was the one-year-younger Margret, leader of the Order of Haverton. As one of the youngest ministers of finance ever known, he is a staunch proponent of the colonization initiative. In recent years, he shouldered many a burden due to his stance on the issue—and these difficulties have only intensified due to the Grand Chancellor remaining shut in his bedchambers.

[Yugl]

Chapter 3: Shadows Over Adoulin

Arboreal Maledictions
"You and I both know that the best way to learn more about the colonization effort's progress is by going to the Celennia Memorial Library!" Familienne pursed her lips as she wagged a finger at Skeptical Owl.
Ah, yes, Skeptical Owl. Who else would the Elvaan be consorting with?

"And you're telling me this because...?"
"Tut-tut! No complaints out of you, Zegard!"

Famlienne had no apprehension about using Skeptical Owl's given name-after all, they had known each other for years upon years.

"Think of it as a sort of writing seminar! First, we have to figure out who our audience is, and once we start putting words to paper we'll have them eating out of the palms of our hands!"

Owl shrugged. Once Famlienne got a hare-brained idea into her head, no act of man or nature could convince her to give it up.

Still, her reaction was only natural, given the verbal lashing they had received from their editor. Their last article was more of a dissertation, and it strayed so far from the main topic of colonization that their readership was left scratching their heads as to what the point was.

But Famlienne was a fighter, and no harsh words would cause her to give up.
"All we needed to do was focus on colonization."
"If you say so."
"Yes, I do. Just keep it easy to read, and this time it'll be a hit for sure! That's why we have to keep our eye on the prize."
"Remember the last time you tried to 'focus on the big picture'? You were thrown out on the streets like last night's meal scraps!

Owl sighed. Ideas were nothing without proper implementation.

Famlienne had been visiting the Pioneers' Coalition every day like clockwork, pestering every Brenton, Eamonn, and Kithvalio in a vain attempt to pry information from them.

'I swear upon Altana herself, if you come here one more time I'll call the Peacekeepers to escort you out!'

"Was that any way for them to talk to a daughter of the Order of Woltaris? My reputation was besmirched as a result of the whole ordeal."
"None of this would have happened if you weren't so over the top. Adoulin wasn't built in a day, so why would colonization be any different?"
"But we need to know every last detail! That's why I've prepared this list of 256 handy phrases that could represent recent colonization events!"

Famlienne handed Owl the paper in a huff.

"Isn't it considerate of me to have prepared responses in advance? All they have to do is pick the most appropriate one!"
"You want them to choose from this list? Let's see... 'Can't be bothered', 'don't know which way to turn', 'nothing noteworthy', 'still in progress', 'gotta keep at it', 'somewhat looking up', 'neither this nor that', 'slowly but surely', 'made a bit of progress', 'progressing at a slow pace', 'made a bit of a leap forward', 'did my best', 'I've been a bit cowardly of late' ... oh, come on. Are you serious?"
"Yes, that is all they have to do, and not a single thing more. These 256 phrases are our keys to journalistic success!"
"You look like you're celebrating some historic victory, when we both know..."
"Know what? All they have to do is choose! I was thinking of how to make it easier for them!"
"You've got to be joking."
"That's exactly what they told me, too! Just whose side are you on?"
"You've gone completely mad!"
"Shhh...we're almost at the library!"
Yet even when Famlienne lowered her voice, it still carried like a bell's chime drifting on the wind.

And so it was that Famlienne had become persona non grata at the Pioneers' Coalition and turned her sights to the Celennia Memorial Library instead.

The library was more than just a collection of dusty old tomes containing irrelevant family trees of ministers and maesters-it was a veritable treasure trove of pioneers' deeds, exploits, and travels throughout the Ulbukan continent. Volumes upon volumes expounded upon the flora and fauna, contained fresh perspectives on the founder king's foray into the wilds, and boasted memoirs of those who called Adoulin their new-found home.

"We're here to research, right? Well, let's get at it."
"I think I'll start with some of the older manuscripts."
"That leaves me with the latest reports, then."

That said, Owl set off to pour over recent testimonials, journals, and reports from the front.
"Hmmmmmmmmm..."
A soft voice floated down to Owl's ears. Curious, he looked up.
Someone was standing on a stepladder nearly as tall as the Galka himself.
"What's this?"
Stretching his neck further upwards, where a dainty Hume female stood, reaching out toward the inner recesses of a shelf far above her head.
Though covered in long-sleeved robes, she could have been no greater than fifteen, perhaps sixteen years old.
No wonder she needed a monstrously large fixture to reach her quarry.
"Look out!"

"Just a little bit.... Aaack!"
"Damned fool!"
The girl's clog got caught on the edge of the ladder, sending her tumbling downward as the stepladder flipped on its side.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
It would have been quite a drop to the floor below had Owl not reacted quickly, reaching his arm out to break her fall.

Schwump!
Luckily for the girl, Owl's bulky frame was more than sufficient to handle the force of someone dropping onto him. She was not light as a feather, perhaps, but Owl kept her safe with only a modicum of effort.
"Phew."
The girl had no trouble finding the book she was looking for, as it came spiraling toward the ground and landed on her head with a resounding bonk, luckily-or perhaps not.

"I, uh..."
"Ow, my arm...
...Are you okay?"
"Y-yes! I'm just fine!"
"Zegard, what's all this fuss? Oh ho, is this sweet tart the latest report on colonization?"
Famlienne's piercing gaze stabbed through the eyes of the young girl, still wrapped in Owl's arms.

"I-I don't know how to thank you. My name's Yumela."
"Yumela, if you need to get something on a high shelf, you should ask someone to help you."
"You're r-right."
Owl gave a strained smile as he reached to the ground and picked up the book she had been searching for.
"Oh? What's this book about?" queried Famlienne as she tried to steal a furtive glance at the title.
"Dunno what it's about, but the title is 'A Beginner's Guide to Purification'."
"Oh ho! And what would a little thing like you want with such a volume?"
Famlienne turned her gaze to Yumela once more, her eyes scanning up and down the girl's frame. Suddenly, the Elvaan let out a short gasp and clasped her hands together.

"I've got it! You must be from the Order of Weatherspoon!"
"That's right! H-how did you...Who are...?"
"My name is Famlienne, and my churlish companion who saw fit to manhandle you is Zegard."
"Churlish!?"
"Fam...? You mean, from the Order of Woltaris?"
"Why, yes! How lovely to know that I have admiring fans!"
"Y-you're the daughter of a distinguished family of knights who's working as a reporter out in Ulbuka, right?"
"Exactly! Zegard, she's a clever one, isn't she!"
"You're the Headstrong Mistress!"
"The what!?"
Famlienne's shriek echoed through the otherwise silent chamber. Feeling the weight of a thousand cold gazes bearing down upon her, she smiled sheepishly.
"S-sorry for making you angry!"
Owl stifled a smirk.
"Mmmf, mmmf. I see her reputation for looking only forward precedes her. Can't say I disagree."
"Zegard!"
Famlienne snorted in a huff, though she was careful to keep her voice down this time.
"Who's the churlish one now? Forget that, and let's get back to this book. If you belong to the Order of Weatherspoon and are interested in this 'Beginner's Guide to Purification,' then that can only mean one thing..."
"That's right. I'm an exorcist-in-training."


An exorcist? Famlienne's eyes twinkled with a spark of curiosity. Of course, no one in Adoulin reaches the age of six before knowing what exorcists do for the city, but very few have the opportunity to actually see one in the flesh. Even if they do, exchanging words and earning their confidence is unheard of for all but the most important of city officials.
It doesn't help that each member belongs to the Order of Weatherspoon-a house of nobility far beyond the reaches of the common man-and holds a special place among Adoulin's ruling elite.

"Famlienne is hot on the case! So...what would an exorcist want in such a common place as a library?"
"W-well, I..."
Her eyes shifted back and forth, drawing little circles in the air.
"We can help if you need anything."
Yumela hesitated, falling silent for several seconds as she pondered her response. She eventually found fit to share her worries with the two.
"Did you know there's a new i-illness spreading throughout the city recently?"
"An illness, you say?"
"Some of those who go out onto the continent fall into a deep sleep after they return."
"Do you mean...?"
Famlienne seemed to recall something. And come to think of it, so did Owl.


The duo's first assignment as neophyte reporters was to search Ulbuka for an herbal remedy said to cure a fever-causing ailment. Could she be referring to the same malady?

"No one seems to know of anything to cure it, but I've heard that a certain plant taken from the forest is effective at relieving some of the symptoms."
"So it doesn't dramatically aid those who are suffering."
"Exactly. And worse, some people think it's not an illness, but rather a curse."
"You mean the 'curse of the forest'?"
"Yes."

Many exorcists had attempted rituals of purification, but to no avail.

"Maybe if Ingrid was here..."
"Who?"
"She's Lord Vortimere's secret weapon, silly, said to be the most skilled exorcist of them all. I've heard she's gone to tour the Middle Lands to acquire knowledge not found in our homeland."
Famlienne's connections as the daughter of nobility unsurprisingly gave her a certain insight into the movements of Adoulin's elite-an insight that one of common birth such as Owl was lacking.


"Ingrid is just so beautiful, and knows more than anyone about purging the land of evil spirits. You'd never guess from how young she was, but she has sent so many umbrils scurrying back to their place in the netherworld that not even the most venerable of exorcists can compare!"
Yumela's eyes flashed and an excited smile graced her lips.
"So, if she comes back..."
"I see. You think she'd be able to lift this curse."
"Yes, but...I don't think I can wait that long. That's why I'm searching for something, anything..."

No wonder she was after that primer, Owl sighed as he thought to himself. I suppose she did say she was new at all this...

"Why can't you wait?"

Famlienne knew the answer right as the words escaped her. Owl, for his part, was completely oblivious.

"Yumela, someone close to you is in trouble, aren't they?" Famlienne's initial skepticism was replaced with genuine empathy.
"Well, uh...I..."
Yumela's face turned as bright as one of the Civil Arboretum's tomatoes.
"Oh ho, my intuition never fails!"
"Why're you raving like some harpy?"
Owl furrowed his brow as he poked Famlienne in the back.

Ordinarily, the way he brutishly jabbed one of a higher class would have earned him the ire of the entire house, but Owl and Famlienne enjoyed a special relationship that transcended class.
"Ow!"
"You've got no shame, do you?"
"I suppose I did go bit too far. I'm sorry, Yumela."
"Oh, no, there's no need to apologize. The boy is a...childhood friend of mine."
"Oh?"
"He started working at the Pioneers' Coalition this past spring, and the illness took him not long after he returned from the forests. His fever has lasted for a week now..."
A new member of the Pioneers' Coalition who suddenly fell ill... Yes, Owl had heard of such a lad.
"I remember him."
"Do you know what caused it? Is there any proof that it was caused by the curse?"
"He...he doesn't remember much about that went on there. But something strange happened."
"Strange? In what way?"
"He mentioned a pendant that he lost there."
"A pendant, you say?"

The boy apparently dropped it somewhere in Yorcia Weald. Perhaps he had been accosted by one of the beasts lurking within-but if so, he had no recollection of the incident.

"One of my friends from the coalition went to look for it..."
"...but they weren't successful, were they?"
"No."
"Are you sure one of the nasties out there didn't pick it up?"
"They evidently thought of that, and sent some pioneers on a find-and-retrieve mission..."
"And they came back empty handed."
"Hmm...perhaps..."
"Owl? You've had a flash of insight?"
"I believe so."
"R-really!?"
"The best idea of all-we go the last place he saw it. Fam, are you-"
"-I'm ready. Not that your idea is necessarily original, but it's a great opportunity for us to show our personal growth to that stuffy editor! Come on, Yumela!"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course! Who better to protect you than me?"

Awfully sure of herself, Owl thought with a chagrin. And, as always, it falls to me to protect them both.

And so, for the first time in weeks, the reporter team headed to Yorcia Weald, this time with a young exorcist in tow. What made this journey different was that Famlienne was no longer hampered by legs that buckled after a scarce two hours of walking and she could now face danger head on rather than scream and turn to jelly.

"He said that it was somewhere around here."
Given the amount of time that had passed, neither Owl nor Famlienne were surprised that they turned up empty handed, despite combing over every errant branch and tuft of grass.

"Some damned beast or bug might have made off with it-but common fiends are no match for an adventurer's sword or spell."
"There must be some underlying reason for this. Have any more inspiration, Owl?"
"This might sound a little crazy, but something came to me when Yumela mentioned the curse. You know they sometimes appear when the sun sets."
"They?"
Owl stretched his arms in front of him, stretching out so that his biceps began to tense.
"I can't tell if that's supposed to be fear or bravado. You remind me of an overzealous father threatening his son into submission."
Famlienne narrowed her eyes and glanced at him askance. Yumela raised her eyebrows and said in a small voice,
"You can't mean...."
"Exactly. Umbrils."

True to their name, the umbrils are a blight upon Ulbuka, shadows that only take form when darkness chokes the land. In a word, they sow chaos in the slimy furrow they leave behind. Their bodies, nebulous in shape, twist and contort like a nightmare upon the wind. It is difficult to even call them humanoid, as their legless torsos leave trails of blackened slime wherever they travel, and their arms are but amorphous blobs. Though lacking in bones, they nonetheless have teeth sharp enough to slice through an adamantoise shell like a hot knife through Selbina butter.

"Umbrils only manifest at night. During the day, they slink off to who-knows-where. I'll wager that those pioneers who came out here left at dusk."
"I've heard that the fiends sometimes curse those who cross them."
"Then everything is coming together. It won't be the most fun I've ever had, but if we just wait until nightfall-what's wrong, Fam?"
"N-n-nothing!!! Hahaha. Why would something be wrong!?"
"Then why are you wailing like a banshee?"
"Wailing!? Who said I was wailing!?"
"Oh, come on!"
"Thank you both for coming out this far with me. Please, I'd like you to wait with me until the umbrils come out to see if one of them took it."
Famlienne found Yumela's sudden burst of courage just a tad too disagreeable. The protector and protectee roles appeared to have switched.

Dusk settled on Eastern Ulbuka. The chirps and chattering of birds and insects gave way to the howling and grumbling of myriad abominations. Owl and company recited an incantation that would shield them from sight and muffle their movements, and climbed a safe, sturdy tree for a better survey of the ground below.

Without any fowl fluttering about to block their view, the three had a clear glimpse of what was happening below-and were safe from any would-be predators. The moon was full in the sky, its pale cascade of light shining through the canopy and illuminating the forest floor.

When the moon was at its peak and the three were about to nod off, a dull sound like something being dragged across the ground jolted the three to full alert.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
The three fixed their eyes on the ground below.
Look-over there!

It was an umbril, mirroring the drawings in the library's tome portrayed them. Its ever-shifting form lumbered along-half above ground, half below-crawling slowly but steadily. Pioneer reports and anecdotes indicated that umbrils possess the uncanny ability to pass through both dirt and wall, with vegetation wilting and blackening in their wake. Though they were not strictly undead, their presence was accompanied by such a heavy sense of foreboding that even the most stalwart of heroes would be hard-pressed to hide their fear.

A sharp twinkle on the umbril's form caught Owl's eye, an unmistakable glint of metal dangling from the umbril's arm. Could that be-yes, it was! The pendant!

Yet as was often the case in the continent, all good news is followed by an equal measure of trouble. Their incantation started to undo at the seams, and the leaves on their perch began to rustle-or so was Owl's first impression.

Curse their horrible luck!

Owl glanced around him. The branches were bending awkwardly, as if the weight upon them had shifted suddenly. Confound it, were Famlienne or Yumela about to fall? Who was it!?
A tiny "Eep!" from Owl's right provided the answer. He whipped his head around, and there was Famlienne, grasping on to the limb for dear life, her legs dangling well below cover. Yet she was oblivious as to how exposed she really was.
Owl called out softly but crisply.
"Fam!"
His voice shattered the spell for good, but it was a necessary sacrifice to get Famlienne's attention. She looked up at Owl, startled.
Their eyes met. In that instant, Famlienne's grip loosened and the branch she had been gripping onto rebounded upward as she tumbled to the ground.

Famlienne's posterior met the ground with a resounding thump, the moonlight outlining her agape mouth. The umbril froze in its tracks.
She'd been noticed.
It slowly turned its lumbering frame a full 180 degrees to stare at her.
And then it began to crawl.
"Fam!" Owl called out as he jumped down, placing himself directly between the two. He unsheathed his staff and brandished it menacingly before him.


"Fam, get outta here!"
He turned around quickly to catch her gaze and realized that his words had fallen on deaf ears.
Famlienne stifled back a sniffle and her eyes began to water.
Of course...she could barely stand the sight of slugs or snails, so it was no wonder she would be petrified of something similar, yet far more sinister.


"Damned fiend! No way I'll let you touch her!"
In an ideal world, it would be the paladin in front protecting the white mage, but this particular circumstance called for a bit of improvisation-and Owl was good at thinking on his feet.

Rustle, rustle, rustle, CRASH! Out of the corner of his eye, Owl spied a dainty form careening toward the ground. Though Yumela had attempted to jump, the end result was anything but graceful.

The umbril spied its opening, and swung its arm toward Owl's torso like a whip, connecting with a resounding squish. The galka snarled and raised his staff over his head with both hands, striking downward with all his might, but succeeded in doing nothing but covering his weapon in a translucent gloop.

He heard a soft chanting in the background.
A brief moment later, a blinding ball of light passed under his legs and struck the fiend in what likely passed for its abdomen, filling its innards with a brilliant white light. An unholy scream pierced the heavens as its body twitched and convulsed. Unflinching divinity filled every last crevasse of its twisted form and dark, viscous liquid begun to ooze out from its form.
"Holy!"
Even the same spell takes different shapes depending on the skill of its weaver-and this was not the work of an amateur.

It only made sense that a being of pure darkness would writhe in unbearable agony when faced with such unwavering purity.

Not content to let things stop there, Yumela began to recite another spell, her words identical to the ones before. Exorcists' forte has always lied in more offensive forms of white magic. In other words, Owl had best be careful, for Yumela was unlikely to provide much in terms of backline support.

He who falls first loses, Owl thought as the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smirk. But no way will I be the first to go down. Fam would never let me hear the end of it. This was more than a struggle against a foe. It was a matter of pride, as always.
Owl raised a war cry and began to pummel the umbril with everything he had.

A second blast of radiance slammed into the unholy blob, and it began to quake furiously against the combined might of Yumela's invocations and Owl's redoubled pummeling.
"Grr....wha...!?"
A foreboding reddish-black fog swirled about Owl's form and began to envelop him.
"This must be the curse!"
It was only later that he learned it was referred to as "necrotic brume".

The umbril's form began to blur as Owl's vision grew cloudy. His arms and legs slowly stopped responding to his command, and his staff began to slip from his fingers.
It was time for the monstrosity to strike. It lowered its jaw and stretched outwards, rushing toward the Galka and threatening to consume him from the head on down.
"Grgh..."
Owl's arms began to burn as the beasts mouth came down on his shoulders and the blots holding his armor together began to dislodge.
"Zegard!"
Famlienne voice wafted to his ears...but from where? He felt the calm waters of healing wash over him, but he still received no succor.
"Altana...help me!"
His knees buckled...
...and he could swear the umbril flashed an evil grin at him.
Its jaw relaxed its death grip, only to open wide again in an attempt to bite back down, this time redoubling its fury.
The hairs on Zegard's arms began to stand on end.


"Zegard! You've got to run! Now!"
Owl thought he must be hearing things, because it sounded like Famlienne was right next to him. As he grimaced and looked up, his eyes widened, as his longtime friend had imposed herself between the two!

Right as the umbril was readying to chomp down on Owl yet again, Famlienne raised her tiny buckler and smacked it across the face, dazing her mark.
Altana's loving embraces wrapped around the Elvaan's shoulders, Famlienne was glistening with a brilliance that far outshone that of the moon above. She stood up straight and proud, facing the umbril with courage and conviction.
Sensing that feeding time would have to wait, the denizen of the dark turned to focus on the Elvaan. The Goddess of the Dawn was the mortal enemy of such a creature-and this was Famlienne's best chance.

"Now!" Owl cried as he rose to his feet. The Goddess's protection was not infinite, and there was only a small window to make their move. What's more, Famlienne's blade was likely to be about as effective in harming the beast as Owl's now drenched staff.
She was utterly dependent on Yumela and Owl's magic.

The two mages began chanting, but Yumela was just a hair faster. She must have some kind of quickening charm, Owl convinced himself. The searing white light cleaved the umbril in twain, and before Famlienne could draw her next breath, Owl's spell came crashing down with equal ferocity.
"This ends now!"
The umbril howled in agony as it convulsed but once before lifelessly seeping into the ground. A faint grunt not unlike the sighs of the three Adoulinians escaped its mouth.

Only a single appendage of the umbril could be made out amongst the liquid mass that remained-the arm that bore the missing pendant like an ill-won trophy. Yet that too slowly began to dissolve, seeping into the ground like well water into a potted plant. All that remained was the young man's bauble.

Owl scooped it up from the ground and ran a wrinkled cloth along its surface. As he turned it over to clean the other side, he noticed a series of letters engraved into the back of the locket dancing in the moonlight.
"Look at this." he said as he handed it to the approaching Yumela.
"It's definitely his pendant. See? That's his name right here."
"Hm?"
Yumela held the pendant up to the light and angled it from side to side. She blinked three times in rapid succession, and Owl and Famlienne pretended not to notice her blush.
"Y-yes, this is the...right pendant."
"Then we've got what we came for. Come, it's too dangerous to stay here much longer. Let's go home via scroll."

Not only was such passage quicker, but it was undoubtedly safer. And as the curse had overtaken Owl, he was of no mind to stay out any longer than he needed to.
"You're right."
"You can go on ahead. We'll be back a little later."
"O-okay! I'll make sure to thank you in full once you return."
She removed a tiny yellowed parchment from her pouch, unfurled it, and read its words under the light of the moon. Her form began to twinkle and fade as she was teleported back to Adoulin.

Once she had vanished, Owl looked behind him. Famlienne had slumped to the ground where she now sat, arms wrapped around her knees.
"I shouldn't be surprised that you're all worn out."
Still, he thought it odd that she was barely moving.

"I...I'm a daughter of one of the Order of Woltaris's most decorated knights. How can I let anyone see me like this?"
"Anyone...except me?"
"Oh Zegard, you're not just anyone."
"W-what are you implying!?"
"We've been over this before. You've been important to me ever since I was just a toddler!" She said, extending her arms toward Owl.
"You're completely mad!"
"That why I'm out of sorts like this. I can't stand up on my own."
"And this is acceptable behavior for a daughter of noble birth?"
"Well...everything has its exceptions."
"Oh ho."

But Owl did not offer to help her up. Instead, he bent down, hoisting her limp form onto his back.
"H-hey! What are you doing!?"
"Stop squirming! You know those things are still out there!"
"Still out there!?"
Famlienne visibly shriveled up and clung to Owl's back for dear life.
"That's my girl," Owl said as he began to walk forward.

They weren't safe there. Maybe Famlienne would be able to get a hold of herself if they got a malm or so away from the scene.

"We're going home," he said gruffly.

"Right," Famlienne whispered.

The Curse of the Forest Revealed!

Dearest readers, without doubt you have heard the recent rumors of a strange illness bearing down on the town. Victims suffer from uncontrollable fevers and sometimes go unconscious for days-yet no one knows of any remedy.

In fact, some have taken to claiming that it is the curse of the founder king made manifest, punishing those who dare set foot in the jungle.

Is this really the case? If so, it must have something to do with colonization. We were not content with simple rumors, and thus decided to find out the truth for ourselves.

Our investigative reporting began with a trip to the Celennia Memorial Library, where we happened to come in contact with the friend of someone who was beset by the malady. This victim was assaulted by a creature in Yorcia Weald and fell prey to the curse while within its confines.

But just what kind of creature was it? Naturally, we proceeded to the weald with all due haste. As luck would have it, we managed to confront the beast who attacked the poor lad-an umbril.

One of your faithful reporters was infected by the curse laid down by this monstrosity. But fortunately-if that is the appropriate word-he did not come down with any of the symptoms characteristic of the strange disease.

In conclusion, we are unable to deny the possibility that some of those in pain encountered umbrils in the forest and succumbed to the malediction. However, that is all we are able to discover at this time.

It is still too early to tell whether the umbrils are the sole cause.

We must further study and investigate the phenomenon if we are to get to the bottom of this.

Fam and Owl, special Eastern Ulbuka field reporters

Famlienne
Female Elvaan

Famlienne is the daughter of Order of Woltaris nobility. At seventeen years of age, she never misses an opportunity to put on airs, and her long, silvery hair is her main pride and joy. As the daughter of a decorated knight, she has been trained in the arts of warfare— and though she had never previously put those skills to use in the field, her practical training has begun to pay dividends of late.

Skeptical Owl
Galka

Skeptical Owl is a white mage whose technological prowess is put to great use by the Inventors' Coalition. He prefers actions over words, and, given that he has known Famlienne ever since she was but a child, often takes it upon himself to reign in the Elvaan whenever she gets too absorbed in her task of the day. An avid reader, Owl often takes trips to the Celennia Memorial Library, where he loses himself in the encyclopedias of flora, fauna, and monsters.

Images
http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...030201/ss1.png
http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...030201/ss2.png
http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...030201/ss3.png
http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...010201/ss4.png
http://www.playonline.com/ff11/adoul...010201/ss3.png

[Spira]

Interesting article, if a bit lengthy..

At least we now the exorcists name is Ingrid

[Malithar]

Lengthy, but a pretty good read. Kinda sad that there's really no new information to glean from it, cept for Ingrid being the big bad ass of exorcists. I always like how game mechanics are described in stories like this, the details given on TP moves, para, holy, how the kid was prolly /Rdm or had FC gear, and how a single shield bash stole hate from a melee Whm lol. Good stuff.

Wonder if the upcoming missions will focus on explaining the curse or have to do with exorcists. These excerpts have kinda followed the main missions in some fashion so far.

[Spira]

im think the PLD used Shield Bash -> Invincible? that would explain the bit about the Goddess's embrace/protection.

btw, Ingrid

Spoiler: show

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H4BogiaFXv...s1600/girl.png

[Malithar]

im think the PLD used Shield Bash -> Invincible? that would explain the bit about the Goddess's embrace/protection.

Yeah, for sure. Been awhile since I've fought an Umbril, do they give ST20 with their curse? Would explain the bit about getting cured, but not receiving succor too.

Remember seeing that model you mined, it's got my vote for Ingrid. Wonder what we'll be doing with her exactly. Still curious if that male model in the armor is going to be the Founder King from a CS or what.

[Yugl]

Grennith's Diary

Like many who have come before me, I entered into service for the Order of Adoulin at the age of sixteen.

As maids to one of the most influential families in the west, we must perform a veritable cornucopia of duties. Though none of us has ever set foot into Ulbuka's hinterland, I won't hesitate to say that our work is as hectic and demanding as that of the pioneers, with the castle halls as our battlefield.

...Hm, perhaps that is a tad hyperbolic, but I still stand by the fact that there's more to our work than meets the eye, especially during the busy periods.

To add to the combat imagery, we have a genuine drill sergeant in Eryphonia, our 80-year old commandress. She likes to joke that "I'm on my deathbed, so I have to make sure you're all worthy of carrying on in my stead before I kick the bucket!" but seeing as how she still has the energy to keep cleaning for a few more decades, I can't help but feel embarrassed by my own lack of discipline.

At any rate, my point is that this is my inaugural diary entry because I've had neither the time nor the will to write one up to this point, so chaotic has my life been.

In truth, this may be the first time in weeks I've even laid finger to quill, which I suppose raises the question: Why now? Because of a little incident that served as a respite from my trying schedule.

Master Ygnas has just turned twelve, and while I was under the impression that children were their worst at two years of age, he does his darnedest to give credence to having the phrase be changed to "terrible twelves." He always returns from playing outside covered in mud, and never seems to tire of having me chase him throughout the castle and over the extent of its grounds. I'm not the only one who has to brave this battle of endurance, either, as many of my coworkers report scraping their knees and tearing their blouses in pursuit of that fox-like youth.

His mischief even sets Eryphonia to sighing, despite the fact that she's lived long enough to see the worst from multiple generations of the Adoulin family.

What worries us the most, though, is that Ygnas's rambunctious nature will rub off on the princess, who is currently at the impressionable age of six. The last thing we need staining our records as caretakers is to have little Arciela grow up a tomboy. Therefore, Eryphonia has taken it upon herself to hire the most knowledgeable tutor of civilities on the continent. We all pray her efforts will bear fruit, but that may indeed be all we can do at this point...

Enough with the digressions. I described Ygnas's character in length so that I could set the scene for this particular episode. Like many active children, while he loves to paint his clothes and himself in the most natural of earth tones, he absolutely loathes removing them by taking a bath.

Once the time comes to wash off the dirt of the day, he's nowhere to be found. The duty of chasing him through the castle fell to me today, and I was all the more nervous since it was my first time ever undertaking this most hated of tasks.

That the Order of Adoulin remained slightly elevated in stature compared to the others even after the monarchy was abolished and the council erected in its stead exacerbated my fears. For someone of common birth such as myself, simply walking through the halls of this majestic estate could cause one's legs to buckle under the grandeur. Yet I knew that I couldn't allow myself be floored over such trivial things as appearance and décor if I wanted to prove I was worth my salt.

After finally grabbing hold of the elusive child, I endeavored to remove him from his vestments and force him into the tub. It was imperative that I finish the task in time for the boy's dinner, but that was looking increasingly impossible as time ticked by.

Eventually, I knew I would be foregoing my own supper to ensure Ygnas would be ready for his. That was no reason to rush him out in an unkempt manner, however.

"And make sure to wash behind your ears, too!" I chided sternly from the other side of the curtain surrounding the tub. I was completely exhausted by this point and could do nothing but plop down in the corner, catch my breath, and savor the momentary calm within the eye of the storm.

Once I had regained a modicum of composure, I set out Ygnas's change of clothes, prepared the next few buckets of hot water with which to reheat the bath, and tentatively inquired, "Is the bath hot enough for you, Master?"

"Yeah, it's perfect."

"Splendid. I've taken the liberty of setting out your change of clothes, so please call for me when you're finished."

"Alright. ...By the way..."

"Yes, Master?"

"What's your name?"

"Grennith, sir."

"Grennith, you're pretty fast. You're the first maid to ever catch up to me."

"Well, I did always place first when we raced back at my home village."

"Hmmm..."

"I may not be the most well-rounded housekeeper here, but I am confident I can outrun everyone in the castle."

"I wish I could do that."

"Be fast...?"

"Be the best at something. Melvien and Margret are both about the same age as me and they're both better than me at everything. I'll never be able to stand out as long as they're around."

Every maid serving the Adoulins knows the names of those two individuals. The phrases "child prodigies" and "geniuses" are constantly used to describe them, and they are indeed incredibly close in age to Ygnas; Melvien is two years his elder while Margret is only one.

"Eryphonia always tells me 'You just have to find something that you and only you can do, and then do your best at that,' but I don't know..."

That's as fitting a piece advice from a veteran maid if there ever was one, I remember thinking even in the heat of the moment.

"If it makes you feel better, I might be fast, but it's not like I'm proficient at anything else."

"That's not true. I overheard Eryphonia talking about you just the other day."

"Hm?"

I swear that my heart skipped a beat when he said that. I couldn't believe Eryphonia would bother to mention my name to anyone. Perhaps Ygnas had misheard?

"She said that this year's crop of maids has the most potential she's seen in recent memory. She wouldn't compliment you like that if all you had going for you was your speed."

"But she said 'this year's crop.' She could be referring to any number of people, and I could be the worst of them all."

"True...except that you're the only new maid this year, Grennith."

Just then, I heard droplets of water plink against the flooring and the rustling of a curtain. I screamed in surprise and covered my eyes with my hands. Peeking through the crack between my fingers, however, I saw that there was no cause for concern, as Ygnas had covered himself with his washcloth.

"Where's my change of clothes?"


"R-r-right here! Sorry to keep you waiting, Master!"

How utterly embarrassing—I was completely flustered by a boy four whole years my junior.

"I guess I could change even with you here, but do you really want to watch?"

"I'm s-s-sorry! I'll leave immediately!"

In my haste to flee the room, I slipped and just about fell head-over-heels onto the cold, hard stone floor. More vivid to me than my fall, though, was Ygnas's voice as he laughed his head off at my clumsy display.

Up until that day, I had contemplated quitting numerous times. I just couldn't endure the stress any longer. Hearing that Eryphonia expected great things from me, though, gave me a second wind. It felt great to be recognized for all my hard work and have someone place their faith in me after all I'd been through.

As for Ygnas, he still doesn't get showered with the same sort of accolades that Melvien and Margret do, but he is indeed trying hard at what he does best. Hopefully he receives the same second wind he imparted to me and he gets the recognition he deserves.

Grennith

At the relatively young age of twenty-eight, Grennith already heads the legion of maids that attend to the various whims of the Adoulins. Adding to her pedigree is the fact that she ascended to her current role in a mere ten years and that she has the undying support of Grand Chancellor Ygnas. She also possesses the imposing attitude often sought in leaders, which her subordinates more than verify with their expressions of fear every time they see her approaching. Grennith hails from a small village on the archipelago, and was faster than even the fittest men on her island, making her surprisingly athletic for a maid.

[Spira]

hmmm so Ygnas is only 24 years old.. and Arciela 18.

[Odin'sLaw]

hmmm so Ygnas is only 24 years old.. and Arciela 18.

does that make her the oldest female protagonist then? (besides lion she seemed like she could be in her 20's)

[Darkmagi]

No, prishe is the oldest. lol

[Odin'sLaw]

No, prishe is the oldest. lol

12 year old's body no "magic box" would stand up in court lol

[Fwahm]

That's only because there aren't any magic boxes in real life.

[Spira]

im missing the reference :\

Prishe is hella old tho. she's what.. 34?

[Yugl]

http://www.playonline.com/ff11us/adoulin/index.html

Melvien’s Personal Reflections: Box Garden World
Children live in their own little world and play around oblivious to this fact.

During a major restoration of the mansion, a very nostalgic playboard reappeared. Its reappearance reminded me of a distant memory.

It’s a story of when both Margret -- the current head of the Order of Haverton -- and I were both still students, making it eight years ago.

Margret created a playboard.

The game was themed around the colonization of Ulbuka during the era called “The Great Expedition.”
Players would work across a map modeled after Ulbuka’s terrain, striving to increase the number of their own markers while taking away those of the others.

To make this game, Margret visited the library to study historical references of the past. From this, she managed to recreate an extremely accurate representation of Ulbuka as it was during The Great Expedition.

This meant monsters lurking in forests of evil, swamps swirling with noxious gases that obstructed paths, and legions of the impure, seemingly spawned out of darkness itself. All these things were actual hardships that tormented the trailblazers, as written in the tomes of history.


This playboard became a huge hit at school.

Students may not have a lot of coin, but they have mountains of time. The playboard became so popular, it was said there was no one at school that had not played it.

Margret began to visit the library ever more zealously and continued to add element after element to the game.

However, the more Margret added to the playboard, the more accurate the recreation of “The Great Expedition” of the past became, which led to more and more players abandoning the game.

The game became so difficult there was not a single player who could make it to the hinterlands of Ulbuka. The number of players decreased day after day. The more they played, the more they felt their own powerlessness against the dreadful might of Ulbuka. Such a depressing game could not hope to be popular among children.

Then one day, like the receding tide, the players had all disappeared.

After that, Margret seemed to fiddle with the game for a bit longer, but then one day, even she tossed it aside.

“After all, it’s only a game.”

Saying this, Margret never touched the playboard again.

“Not enough markers…”

I remember hearing her mumble such words. At the time I couldn’t understand; why would such a persistent girl like Margret suddenly give up like that?

But…

The clocks of this world tick inexorably on. Time marches forward, ever forward, into the future.

These last few years, the tide has turned. Ever since the exorcists under the jurisdiction of the Order of Weatherspoon crossed into the Middle Lands, I think people have begun to realize the smallness of Adoulin.

Roger, Brian, Gertrude – the three of them brought back much important information from their journeys, from experiences gained in the towns of the Middle Lands they visited. Most surprising of all was their mention of the adventurers who had helped them in their exorcism.

Though these may be affiliated to our land, they do not serve her interests. Their exploits as they have traveled across Vana’diel can even be read about in a certain newsletter called the Tribune.

Ever since Margret became head of the Order of Haverton and master of the Scouts’ Coalition, she has been a passionate voice advocating the necessity of such adventurers.

Recently, I think I’ve finally come to understand.

It’s only been a short time, and already even Svenja has become a firm supporter of adventurers.

It’s so clear.

Margret is playing her game again.

Except…

As one who has entered the grown-up world a step earlier than the rest of us, a mere box garden of a world was much too small for her, and she has decided to play in a bigger world.

And the markers she mentioned lacking that one time – I think she has found them now…

Melvien de Malecroix

[Spira]

Thats how i used to play Risk.

[Yugl]

From Melvien’s Journal: The Ingrid Nobody Knows
Ingrid has returned.

She had been visiting the Middle Lands in order to learn more about the ways of the outside world.
Though she may have gained knowledge and worldliness, her personality has not changed a bit.

Heavens!
Still as fiery a temperament as ever.

Her face was quite the sight to see, that time her purgation ritual failed.
Stunned, and drained of all color, it was – white as a marble statue, yes.
Afterwards, there she was, chewing away on her nails as usual, her eyebrows knit tightly on her forehead.
She could have frightened a stone gargouille!
It was as if she herself were some demoness who had emerged from the underworld.

They don’t call her “the Merciless One” for nothing!

But...I can understand.
You see, I know what led her to become the way she is now.

It’s something only the current leaders of the Twelve Orders know about, but I should record it here in this journal...as a small honor to Ingrid’s good name.

*


Ingrid’s mother, Alucia, was also an exorcist.
Not only was she exceedingly beautiful, even more so than Ingrid, but her personality was as warm as a pool of sunlight on a cold winter’s day.

“Alucia the Merciful” She was called.
So merciful was she that she never forgot compassion, not even toward those who had already departed from this world.

But it was this kindly personality that was her undoing.

It happened over ten years ago.
There had been a rumor spreading that the undead were appearing at a graveyard outside of town.

Alucia was to go to the graveyard and perform a transcendence ritual.
A transcendence ritual is one in which the exorcist speaks to the wandering spirit, calming and releasing the restless soul.
This is how it differs from the purgation ritual, which forcibly banishes impurity.

Now, I’m no expert on the spirit and the soul, but apparently a successful transcendence ritual is cause for gratitude from the wandering spirit, as the spirit is finally released from the bonds of this world.

This is all just based on what I’ve heard from others, you understand.
I don’t know if it’s true.
Is the soul really something that can be influenced by the paltry power of a mere human being?
It seems like that’s more the work of a higher power – for example, the Goddess...
That’s how I feel.
“Release from the bonds of this world” all sounds very well and good, but who knows what the reality of it is...?

But I digress.
Alucia’s transcendence ritual was a failure.
A more common undead creature would have been just another day’s work—but this was a wily dullahan.
Disguising itself as a timid spirit, it tricked Alucia with this little speech.

“I have one regret left in this world. A music box I treasured in life is buried underneath a tree on the other side of town. Please retrieve it for me, as I long to hear its tune just one more time.”

The kindly Alucia did as she was asked, and dug at the roots of the tree.
There, she found the small, ancient music box...and opened the lid.

The Dullahan revealed his true form as soon as Alucia lifted the lid.
“Ha! A pesky exorcist used that music box to seal away my powers, but you have broken that seal! Now rue your foolishness!”

He then placed a powerful curse upon her.

When Alucia realized she had been tricked, she used all of her last remaining powers to recite an incantation of purgation.



With a piercing scream that echoed in the night, the Dullahan vanished.
But, in the same instant, Alucia collapsed to the ground.
The incantation of purgation heavily affected her now cursed body.

As the sun rose on the graveyard, its rays fell upon a shattered music box and Alucia’s collapsed form.

Perhaps due to the weight of her own powerful incantation, Alucia lost all of her exorcist powers and was forced to retire. To add insult to injury, any name she had built for herself was ruined, as it became known that she was an exorcist who had allowed herself to be cursed.

It could be said that is when her only daughter Ingrid’s trials began. Her family faced expulsion from the Order of Weatherspoon, and Ingrid became their sole support. To endure the most grueling training and harshest criticism required in order to claw her way up as an exorcist of Adoulin, Ingrid needed an iron will.

And it was in that harshest of environments that The Merciless One earned her epithet.

People are inherently weak.
That’s what I believe – weak.
Each of us throughout the five races harbors some darkness in our hearts. And the harder we forge ourselves to resist one darkness, the easier we fall prey to another.


That said, Ingrid surpassed her mother and acquired power as an exorcist of Adoulin–power acquired as a result of and in direct contrast to her mother’s moniker of “The Merciful”...


Melvien de Malecroix

Usual site.