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Myths serve myriad purposes, but one of the more prominent sorts is cautionary tales. Among such stories, those of Ker may be the most terrifying.
It is said that Ker appears on the battlefield to feast upon the souls of the dead, hunting down the living she lays eyes upon unto the ends of the earth. She brings naught but a swift demise to those who dream of glory.
If I was to postulate that Ker is not merely mythological — which I do — she must be some manner of ashkin. “Undead,” in layman’s terms. This would explain how millennia can pass without a sighting...
However, legend has it that her “shrouds” are ever in search of new prey for their mistress, so hope yet remains. Should you glimpse these spirits in reddened rags as you sheathe your own bloodied weapon, pray keep your wits about you...
As you may already be aware, there is research being performed on animal husbandry in Labyrinthos. One subject of that research is the Azim Steppe’s species of yakow, the dzo. The Xaela keep them as livestock, so we hope to find some success in maintaining them as a food source.
Alas, one of our dzo recently sent for slaughter managed to escape before it could be delivered, and is now...well, running amok, so to speak.
The dzo responds to “ü-u-ü-u” — which is, in fact, a herding call employed by the Xaela, though no few gleaners have mistaken it for a personal name. Should you find this difficult to pronounce correctly, however, more rudimentary methods of quelling the beast will suffice.
Are you familiar with a species of seedkin called the “genomos”? Yes, well, while their resemblance to topiary does render them absolutely adorable, they are also quite carnivorous.
Genomoi typically prey upon small animals that draw near them for shade. Alas, a particular specimen has grown enormous with its insatiable appetite, and mice and the like do naught to satisfy its hunger.
We have termed this specimen the “green Archon” in hopes that the name will give unwary scholars pause ere approaching, but I fear that their desire to study it will soon outweigh their sense of self-preservation...
Though built from an enormous natural cavern, Labyrinthos nevertheless required extensive development of the surrounding terrain. In the process of excavating layer upon later of land, an unusual seed specimen was discovered. Unearthed after millennia...
Sharlayan’s researchers, naturally, planted it in fertile soil and watered away. Lo and behold, it sprouted right before their eyes! They were positively overjoyed.
Alas, their joy soon turned to terror when the fully grown specimen began to sing a most bewitching song. A full day passed before the researchers were able to cease dancing hysterically and term her “hulder,” after beings from local folklore.
The Central Circuit — the deepest layer of Labyrinthos — houses facilities called “elemental reactors”, which are used to adjust its climate.
Recently, a pair of trolls have been causing mischief around one such facility, each trick less amusing than the last. Indeed, for reasons known to none but themselves, the two even captured a small serpent they found amidst their trolling, and hurled it into the elemental reactor!
A few weeks passed before the serpent slithered out of the facility, unharmed, but no longer small. Nay, after absorbing an exorbitant amount of aqueous aether from the reactor, our little Storsie had grown to an enormous size and developed a ferocious nature.
The massive trolls you find throughout Labyrinthos have long inhabited the wilder parts of the Northern Empty. They were taken from their natural habitat to act as apex predators in Labyrinthos, and are absolutely essential in maintaining its ecosystem.
The ones that do not attack people, at any rate... Which brings us to Burfurlur, the wizened leader of a veritable horde of his kin. As for his appellation — he’s remarkably quick-witted for his kind, and has even managed to craft armor and weaponry from tree bark.
Naturally, Burfurlur has been classified as an essential specimen for ongoing research into the intelligence of trolls as a species, but this is somewhat difficult to accomplish whilst he’s still roaming free, taking bites out of researchers.
It will be no simple matter to draw out such a cunning mark without raising suspicion, but observation from afar has shown that he tends to let his guard down at the sight of younglings at play on a pleasant day...
Ah yes, Iravati. The name is a rather ancient word for a medicinal plant — or so my colleagues among the Arkasodara say.
Evidently, this particular specimen grew inordinately powerful after menacing several alchemists and subsequently downing half the Great Work’s supply of potions and elixirs.
The professors of the Studium’s Faculty of Medicine were ecstatic to hear of this, and have requested samples to facilitate the study of the effect alchemical potations have on animals. Alas, for various reasons, few are willing to contend with a rampaging gaja.
Thavnair is home to a plethora of rare and unusual fauna, but there is perhaps none so unique as the vajralangula. These creatures use their tails to pluck fruit and wave it about as a means to court mates.
Said three-pronged tail clasped about an amra bears a mighty resemblance to the vajra—a weapon oft depicted alongside local divinities—hence the species’s name.
Our naturalists would like to study the aforementioned tail, and require a specimen in its youthful prime as a sample. Naturally, they’ve gone and set their hearts on a particularly ornery one, and naught else will do...
Sugriva once led a pack of wolves in the north of Thavnair, within the dense jungle of Vanaspati. By all accounts, he is a truly enormous specimen.
Nevertheless, the previous alpha returned to reclaim his pack and successfully ousted Sugriva, who migrated south. He now wreaks havoc in his exile, and the people want for someone willing to slay the beast.
Fortunately, a professor of biology filed a request for a vibrant pelt the other day, and Sugriva happens to fit the bill. For once, the faculty’s timing couldn’t be more perfect!
The Au Ra’s flavor of Hannish once used the word “yilan” to mean “snake,” though I fear that fails to capture the — frankly repulsive — image of what the Faculty of Medicine has requested you hunt down.
According to reports from the local naturalists, the creature emits aether from its photophores that crushes its prey into a more diminutive form, the better to swallow it whole. Not pleasant, oh no.
Nor is it technically a serpent. Rather, ’tis a quadrupedal scalekin that is equally dangerous on land and in water — though at least it’s not subtle.
Sphatika. It goes without saying that pisaca are the apex predators of Thavnair. With their elongated, whip-like tongues, these scalekin abominations make prey of even men.
Worse yet, the pisaca has an additional weapon at its disposal — nigh-impenetrable scales partially composed of metal — that has garnered the interest of the Faculty of Engineering. You can imagine where this is going, but for the sake of thoroughness...
Our engineers have requested the scales of a particularly large pisaca for one of their projects. Though the creature was rather euphemistically named for quartz, “sphatika,” I fear that obtaining its hide will require courage of adamant.
Sphatika is known to mercilessly attack any rivals that would encroach upon its territory, and many a hunter has become the hunted in its domain. Perhaps these are merely rumors... but I suggest you don’t count on it.
A massive morbol from Dalmasca, the Emperor’s rose was originally presented in offering to Solus zos Galvus. Subsequently, it was kept in a greenhouse located in the imperial botanical gardens.
The creature escaped its enclosure some few years ago, and made its way to the frigid Eblan Rime, where the Garleans believed it had perished. Thus it was with great surprise that they discovered the creature had not only adapted to the extreme cold, but begun to propagate itself.
One of our biology professors is perplexed by how this seedkin, born in the hot and humid climate of a jungle, managed to adapt to the polar opposite so swiftly. Much to our collective dismay, there is only one means by which to find out...
Ah yes, the warmonger...Developed at the Enceladeum, this autonomous, cutting-edge piece of magitek is programmed to ruthlessly slaughter whosoever it determines to be “the enemy.” As you may have guessed from its name, it is not particularly discriminating in said determination.
Nevertheless, the Garleans are one or two steps ahead of Sharlayan when it comes to mechanical engineering, so faculty and students both are champing at the bit to study it.
Given its nature as an unfeeling machine of mass murder, it would be difficult and likely unwise to retrieve in an operational state. However, should it be appropriately dismantled, its parts ought to be sufficiently edifying.
Though researchers in Labyrinthos have pioneered technology capable of controlling the local climate, such control requires an immense amount of variously aspected aether to maintain.
We must find a means to guarantee healthy crops without such technology, in even the most extreme of climes. The capability to do so is vital in cultivating untamed reaches — but also for ensuring stability for already established populaces.
Thus did the Studium’s biologists set their sights on Aegeiros, with bark so resistant to cold that it thrives in the most frigid of climes. Admittedly, harvesting a bit of bark would require no great expertise...if our subject weren’t known to prey on great bears and the like.
The Studium’s engineers are currently developing a machine capable of operating in freezing temperatures, and have requested the procurement of a certain warmachina to aid in their project — Minerva.
Don’t be fooled by the familiar name — this is a cold and unfeeling magitek avenger prototype that we are discussing. From what I understand, the machine was affectionately named after its creator’s daughter.
Which gives rise to the question — what kind of parent gives a magitek weapon modeled after the sasquatch the same name as their daughter!? Perhaps there is some manner of Garlean tradition here to which I am not privy...but I daresay dismantling the thing would be doing the poor child a favor.
The Enceladeum is—er, was—the Garlean Empire’s greatest magitek manufactory. Many an innovation in engineering technology developed within its intimidating halls.
Most recently, its engineers were focused on the development of humanoid machina. One of their latest models, dubbed “Armstrong,” was designed with a self-regulation system never before seen in the Empire’s machina.
Unlike your standard machina, which require mission parameters and combat protocolos be programmed in advance, Armstrong is highly autonomous—and indeed has been described as having “a mind of its own.” If it sights allied troops in danger, for example, it will rush to support them.
With Garlemald in its current state, however, who knows what it’s getting up to? The Faculty of Engineering certainly doesn’t, but is nonetheless determined to find out what makes Armstrong tick...which is, of course, where you come in.
Tell me, do you know of the phoebad? ’Tis a natural type of golem born of a surfeit of aether in mineral formations. Its cousins, of course, may be composed of other substances in which aether accretes, such as snow...
Thus, it stands to reason that at least one variety of phoebad, or something altogether similar, should exist on the moon! ...On second thought, I mislike the sound of “should” verberating from my lips. Lunar phoebads DO exist, as we shall soon prove!
Call it premature, but I have named our find the “genesis rock”. We may throw it in the faces of those idiot astronomers the moment you deliver my sample.
Ahem! Volcanoes have been found to erupt in pillars of smoke that reach beyond the clouds. Now, suppose an organism of some kind — one capable of withstanding significant heat and pressure — was not only carried aloft by that eruption, but show beyond our sky...
Even if the chances are one in ten thousand — or one in one hundred million, or one in a trillion! — there need only be a single specimen on the moon to prove my theory. I can see it now... the shape of my dreams incarnate!
...Or invertebrate, as the case may be. Yes, a species of crustacean fully adapted from generations of life on the moon — “daphnia magna”.
As one should hope you are aware, summoning a high-ranking voidsent to our plane requires a vast amount of aether be manipulated to tear a hole in the veil betwixt this world and the void.
On extremely rare occasion, however, a tear may naturally form, creating a planar fissure from which the likes of low-ranking voidsent, such as the imp, squirm their way into our world. Obviously, this phenomenon must also occur on the moon.
Now, without a satisfactory vessel to inhabit on the moon’s surface, I am quite certain the voidsent would be forced to dwell in an amorphous lump of lunar soil. The only true question is what to name the resulting specimen... but I think “mousse princess” sounds rather sweet, don’t you?
You are aware that “falling stars” observed in the night sky are, in fact, meteors formed of stone, metals, and minerals from beyond our star, yes? Though they do often burn to nothing during their journey, some few survive to impact Hydaelyn’s surface.
When a large meteor collides with the star, an explosive burst results. Now, what do you suppose would happen to seeds buried in the land impacted by a meteor of truly astronomical proportions? Would they, snug in their chunks of earth, not be sent soaring to the surface of the moon?
I notice your skepticism, but consider the irrepressible nature of seedkin such as the sabotender... Then consider how fascinating it would be if their seeds were to blossom on the moon! Why, such hardy specimens might evolve into true queens among sabotenders — nay, lunatenders!
Our star shields us from what are doubtless many perils beyond. One need only look to the moon to see that this is so — whether the result of scouring sun or the harsh chill of darkness, ’tis a grim and barren face it shows us.
I do believe, however, that certain organisms may be suited to its harsh climes. Myriad fungi, for instance, are deceptively resilient — and would doubtless be even more so should they be exposed to trying circumstances for centuries!
This brings me to my hypothesis, which is thus — over the course of generations, lunar fungi will have developed the capacity to think! Perhaps ruminate over the meaning of their very existence...
Regardless, these sentient fungi will have learned to communicate with one another by now. The ability to alert other members of their colony to incoming danger would be exceptionally useful for survival, after all.
Legends of a great whale that roams the skies have been passed down from generation to generation the world over. Bismarck, the white whale worshipped by the Vanu Vanu and said to dwell amongst Abalathia’s clouds, is merely the best-known example.
Perchance such tales originated solely in the mind—ancient peoples shuddering at the sight of a vast wavekin, and imagining what horrors would reign should one take to the skies. Or perhaps, in the distant past, a creature akin to the mythic Lord of the Mists truly did inhabit the clouds...
I believe it so—yet I need proof. My research indicates that the ancient creature would most closely resemble the south sea isles’ legendary “Shockmaw,” but even if I am wrong...I must know.
Ah, this one is most intriguing. There is a myth passed down in the far west—in the land known as the New World—that tells of a deity named Yumcax, believed to rule over agriculture.
In this legend, Yumcax is described as an enormous tree that not only levitates, but is also possessed of a singular eye. Though there are certain similarities with the species of seedkin we know as treants, the differences are too marked to ignore.
In the interest of respecting your time, I shall get right to the point—I believe Yumcax once existed, in a time before memory. Even should it be a mere twig or scrap of bark, I am counting on you to procure a sample that proves my theory.
An Eorzean acquaintance of mine recently informed me of a most confounding incident. Evidently, a shark walking upon two legs assaulted the site of an annual faire! Though it defies reason, I cannot but feel...excited.
Why, you ask? As a matter of fact, a creature with the selfsame description appears in Nymian mythology — a creature known as the “petalodus.” I always found it an amusing thought, though of course the notion of a shark with ambulatory limbs beggars belief.
...Or does it? If we can verify that the petalodus once existed, I have my proof that certain Nymian myths must be founded in reality. And you shall have a charming story to share with your own friends, I’m sure.
Though I am not proud of it, there was a period of time when I spent a fortune collecting Allagan tomestones, intent on scouring them for information pertaining to mythology.
One such tomestone related a tale from the southern continent of Meracydia. It centers a spirit that resembles a crocodile — a spirit by the name of “Gurangatch.” Curiously, the myth claims that Gurangatch stands upright on its hind legs, roaming the land in search of...
Never mind, that’s not important. What matters is that I believe this to be more than a mere cautionary tale about the danger of crocodiles to their immediate community. Its inspiration must have been found in reality, and we are going to prove it!
Comparative mythology is a field founded upon the close examination of myths of different cultures, with the aim of identifying any common traits they may share. Amongst these commonalities, one in particular has fascinated me — the multi-headed snake or dragon.
Ophioneus is just such a creature — a divine serpent found in several of the oldest legends that remain extant today.
Initially, I believed it to be inspired by the hydra — a draconic creature bred artificially by the Allagans — until I discovered legends that predate even the Allagan Empire!
There is a distinct possibility that a multi-headed serpent — this multi-headed serpent — once lived. Also, it likely ate cloudkin eggs. Write that down.
My dearest gleaner, consider how the Allagan Empire deployed Omega to capture the dreadwyrm Bahamut. Consider the mighty clash between Omega and Shinryu at Baelsar’s Wall! Do you not sense the presence of a hidden through line connecting these incidents?
If we accept that there is some truth in the name “dragon star”, and examine Omega’s encounters in this context, is it not clear that BOTH Omega and dragonkind hail from other stars — stars at war for untold ages!?
I shudder to think what ruthless machines such as Omega would do were they do make captives of the dragons, so very thrilling are the possibilities! Of course, it will be difficult to prove the existence of mechanical dragons without a complete specimen... but I shall accept any trace.
If Omega was created by a civilization hailing from the depths of the sea of stars — as I theorize — then it must be far more advanced than we in the realms of science and technology.
It is inconceivable that such intellectuals would not keep records on their mechanical devices. Furthermore, as competent scientists, they surely would have wished to ensure the data they collected was never tampered with — save in ways they saw fit.
If only I could prove that such a mechanical creation existed, I might be persuaded to add your name to a footnote in my book on the subject...
What trait marks organisms as “alive”, you doubtless wonder! Ahem. Most possess reproductive capabilities, the ability to evolve and adapt, and survival instincts or mechanisms. Even a machine, should it possess all of these traits, would be classified as a living organism.
Which brings us to Omega. Was it, in fact, alien life? Yes, says I!
To prove this, naturally, I require evidence both that Omega came to us from the sea of stars as the Allagans wrote, and that its species satisfies the conditions I described. Evidence of evolution from its home star, in other words!
The half-wits who mock me with taunts that xenofauna do not exist ought to march to Dravania, that they might be devoured as penance for their stupidity!
You must agree with me! ’Twas an ally of the Scions, after all, who spoke of how Midgardsormr did once travel the great expanse. This can only mean that the Father of Dragons and his offspring are technically alien life!
If we can prove this scientific fact rather than hearsay, I will take great satisfaction in the dumbfounded expressions writ across the faces of those fools who banished me from the astronomical society...
The great expanse is overwhelmingly vast... ’tis why its names are uniformly grandiose, you know. Having developed without contact to us, sentient life hailing from other stars would display cultural, intellectual, and indeed physical differences to ourselves.
On a related note, do you know what I abhor most about our own physical forms? The spine, of course! I simply LOATHE this incessant lower back pain. Think of how liberating it would be to shed this mortal shell and break free — to transform into a purely intellectual being!
Regardless of what corporeal woes once plagued them, others amongst those boundless stars must have found a means to lay them aside. As their minds were once governed by biological impulses, you may find that the strong prey on the weak even so... but that is a risk I am willing to take!
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