Final Fantasy XIV: The Winter Calamity

I couldn't be blamed for fainting right there and then right? I had made an understandable mistake when I awoke here. I had forgotten that while, yes, Eorzea was a world of war, death, and corruption it was also colored as a world of light, laughter, and miracles. 

One of those miracles was giving me a hitch on his cart at that very moment. 

"Don't stare at me so lad, it's strange."

His name was Fridurih. His carriage, a floating balloon construct being pulled by a pair of Chocobo, was returning to Ul'dah, but he stopped upon seeing my head sticking up in the sand.

"You were completely buried! Thought I spotted a sugar beet I did! Har Ha-Har!"

So he said. Sugar beet in particular because my skin was a dead and ghostly pale. My hair... was pink. A disgusting and blinding bubblegum pink! My eyes started bleeding when I held a bang up to the sun at the wrong angle! If I were growing green leaves from the top of my head, I'd call myself a sugar beet too! 

While I was fighting for my sad and miserable excuse for a life last night, I never found the time to inspect myself thoroughly. Even if I was unfazed by my traumatic transmigration, it was nigh impossible to see, well... anything! Let alone myself. No mirror, pitch black, rambling to the sands to keep my spirits high.

I had bigger worries than if this body's dick was 2 inches or 9. I thanked the gods of this world when I got my answer though.

Was pink worse than being inflicted with the Hair Bleaching Calamity that impacted the majority of the main patch 2.0 cast?

Perhaps not.

Fridurih gave me food, drink and even a fresh set of clothes. Though they were too big for my wafer-thin form, I was happy to take them. A simple set of cotton trousers and a linen smock. I tried to wash myself thoroughly, but there was only so much I could do with no shower or tub, in the back of a cart.

"I was just thinking about how I could make it up to you Fridurih."

"Bah! Didn't I tell you not to? Just think me an upstandin' citizen who's doin' his civic duty! And tell the guards that too! Har Ha-Har!"

The duty he spoke of is disposing of corpses too close to the road. They tended to draw monsters and those monsters required mercenaries to deal with them. 

Ul'dah had a city guard, but they seldom left their posts. So the City of Gold paid sell-swords to do their dirty work. This could come in the form of the Brass Blades, the elite mercs paid by the most wealthy of citizens, or it could come in the form of adventurers, which Ul'dah welcomed in swarms depending on the time and year.

However, even the cheapest merc wasn't free. It would reflect poorly on the sultanate if monsters were allowed to roam the city limits freely, but similarly they couldn't go around hiring every sell-sword to be road maintenance. 

And so a deal was struck. Merchants who cleaned up the roads to and fro would get something equivalent to tax credits and favor that they could use to bribe their stalls into better market positions. Common sense back on Earth says that the stores closest to the entrance have the most success. How much of that was true here in XIV was beyond me. 

Most of that wasn't something a common merchant would know. Or at least I assumed so. Regardless, Fridurih is amazing isn't he? 

"It's strange lad! Strange I said!" 

---

"It's quite unusual for one to wind up on Ul'dah's sands in such- unique garb. Wouldn't you say, lad?" 

I could see the Desert Rose in the distance. Her walls stood tall and proud against the fierce conditions of Thanalan's landscape. She slightly distracted me from the subtle probe in Fridurih's words. One that had to be handled with care. 

Indeed, what was a bubblegum pink stranger doing buried and half-dead in the golden sands of Thanalan? Do I pretend I have amnesia? There was no mind reading magic in Eorzea as far as I knew. But could I keep up the lie? 

Of course I could! 

"The truth is oft stranger than fiction, good friend." I stated with what I hoped was a forlorn look on my face. Oft? They say that right? I should've read that role-play forum post after all. I knew it'd come back to bite me. I just knew it.

I proceeded to yap out of my ass to him about a terrible party I ended up going to. A party in which a series of guests were murdered and I ran off into the night with no direction nor overcoat. The gore that covered me had dried into a dark shiny crust overnight.

If it wasn't for the change in clothes, I doubted I could make it past any town guard without a heavy round of interrogation. 

"Even now, I'm not sure where the airship has taken off to or if anyone has noticed my disappearance. I must write a few letters when I find the time."

This time the melancholy was authentic. 

Maybe someone was missing me. No... Him. Did this body have people looking for him? Would they assume he was dead? Would they cry for him? I didn't get a rush of memories and a headache upon waking up. 

Just hands full of viscera and lungs choking from corpse stink.

Maybe I was a character from a later expansion? A story that would have been explored in Shadowbringers? Unfortunately, right about that time the expansion was teased, I stopped playing.

Nothing pushed me away, it was just that other games started eating up my time. I had finished Stormblood, the majority of side quests, and had gotten all the combat classes to at least level 50. The gathering and crafting classes... Not so much. The Botanist reached 40 if I recalled correctly. 

I wished that I knew more. My knowledge sharply cuts off after Stormblood. A few spoiler-y posts here, a few trailers there, and a rare cursory glance at the wiki was my claim to knowledge past that.

"Hells of a tale lad! Till make a good story over a few pints and a healthy lass aye? Har Ha-Har!"

I wasn't sure if he bought it, but I liked the story well enough. More importantly, it fit.

In the opening quest, if you chose to start in Ul'dah, you'd witness a fight that turned pretty nasty. In 1.0 I believed a monster was set loose and even killed someone... Who was it again? Were they important?

Ul'dah was easily the most violent city-state. Blood flowed through the cobbles of the street just as gold lined the cracks in the walls. Whoever they were, their fate may as well have been sealed the day they chose to travel to the City of Gold. 

---

I cherished this time to rest and plan. I knew nothing of when in the story I was. Last night I couldn't see Dalamud. So either it hadn't reached the point of descending yet or it already happened and I was in A Realm Reborn.

Most players didn't experience the 1.0 version of XIV. Myself included. As I understood it, it was a mess of terrible mechanics, a lack-luster story, and technical instability.

I wasn't sure which signs would clue me into knowing when I was. Maybe the lack of refugees crowding the walls meant something? Or perhaps the majority simply didn't hide out at this particular entrance. Even if it was 1.0, Ala Mhigo should be currently occupied. So where were they? Was I thinking of the Doma? The stories jumbled in my head.

It went without saying that the scale of XIV didn't at all match up to what I've had to experience these past couple days. Despite Ul'dah being my home Aetheryte in-game, it was almost unrecognizable in my eyes.

The roads, the flat-lands, the canyons on the horizon, those strange floating sandstone structures that sat as a pair next to the gate, I couldn't guess where I was at all.

Even the city herself proved to be a stranger. Massive was an understatement. As we continued to ride towards the gargantuan walls I could feel the silhouette of the city eclipse the sunlight and plunge me into shade. No matter if looked left or right, the city's wall was unending. 

Which side was I on? Where were the features I had grown so used to? I somewhat missed making that obnoxious trek on a Taxi Chocobo, to and from The Waking Sands. 

"Halt! Papers."

Fridurih smiled slightly and handed a thick parcel to the city guard. I could see the carriage lot ahead. I had no idea such a place sat in-between the loading screens that'd take you into Ul'dah proper. 

The city guard walked away and Fridurih turned to face me. His eyes were almost as dark as his heart, but they held a glint that seemed to be poised to dig for gold. 

"Cease ponderin' strange things, lad. Listen careful."

Was I that easy to read? 

"This is as far as I can take ya'. In the heart of Ul'dah, there be a glorious tavern known as the Quicksand. Owner there's name is a Miss Momodi. She's a sweet thin' if ya treat her well. Ask her for work and tell her Ole' Freddy sent ya."

Momodi Modi was the first real quest giver in XIV. She'd be the start if a Chain Quest that would put you on the route of meeting key members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

"Thank you for everything Fridurih. Truly."

"Har Ha-Har! Tis no trouble lad. The next time you're ready to hit another one of those Airship Parties, give Ole' Freddy a tap! Waking up buried in sand and covered in blood is nothing but a good time! Har Ha-Har!"

Parting with my savior was a difficult, but necessary step for me. I left Fridurih behind at the checkpoint and walked directly into Ul'dah proper. The sudden change from sand to ancient cobblestone was difficult to adjust to. 

 Occasionally near the entrance I was stopped by guards. I was ready to answer whatever questions they could throw at me, but was quickly underwhelmed by their monotonous and scripted voices asking the same sets of questions. 

"Your business in Ul'dah?"

"Meeting a friend."

"Move along."

"..."

Not one question about my obvious suspicious traits? Where did I come from? How was I outside without a weapon? And the most important question that I prepared myself to answer- What did you do to your hair? 

Tax payers fund these slackers to roam about, drink, and fix a problem that's already been solved. It was absurd. How much must be wasted every year by this farce and not a single soul to question it? I figured there was simply too much gil lining their pockets to care.