This is Just a Tribune III

Moving on with our incredibly hilarious series, we got a humdinger of a hoodilly.

Yes! YES! YEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!1!!!111!!!11one

Christmas event! Event in general! EVENT!

I love the Christmas event. Even in FFXIV, it's one of my favorite. The development team really captures the holiday spirit with all the lights and the music and the snow sometimes.

So let's take a look at what the Tribune had to say about the most wonderful time of the year!

You've probably seen the sparkling trees in San d'Oria, Bastok, and Windurst. If not, let me explain where to find them. In San d'Oria, visit the parade grounds in Northern San d'Oria to see the city's most impressive display. The trees standing on either side of the fountain are draped with red and green streamers that form an archway leading to Chateau d'Oraguille. No one seems to tire of gazing at the colorful decorations adorning the tree branches. When the sun sets, the trees go from striking to spectacular. They seem to beckon the viewer to an irresistible fantasy world. Many spectators stood beneath the trees the night I went out to gather information. One group of adventurers had settled themselves in the square for a full night of merrymaking under the lights. Nearby stood Antonian, a merchant selling specialty goods. He was catching the snowflakes that drifted down from the sky and gazing at them in wonder as they melted in his hands. I passed through Victory Arch into Southern San d'Oria. Beautifully decorated city streets greeted my eyes and cheered my heart. Even the tireless Raminel took a break from his labors to see the sights in Victory Square and Pikeman's Way. An old woman living in a house along the street merrily said, "My balcony has the best seats in all of San d'Oria." In Bastok, the trees in the market district are drawing the most attention. The four trees that surround the fountain are supported by a giant metallic brace, the frame itself covered in decoration. The overall impression is of a very technically advanced country. "Are crystals making it shine? Magic? Those surely aren't jewels!" laughed a goldsmith, shaking her head at the dazzling display on Gold Street. The tree in Port Bastok is quite impressive, reminiscent of a bell. That tree greets customers visiting the Steaming Sheep restaurant. Pelinvarde, a fortune-teller standing outside, smiled as he watched a pair of lovers taking in the sights. The tree in the fountain plaza of Windurst Woods is certainly worth a look. Windurst has always cherished harmony with nature. So it is no surprise that its residents chose to decorate the trees that have long stood there rather than set up new ones for the occasion. If you look closely, you can see Star Tree and fluoro-flora motifs running through the ornaments. I met Seno Zarhin in the square. She seemed quite happy with the decorations there. With tail waving as she walked, she never wandered far from the tree. A pair of Tarutaru sisters romped about the outer steps of the Manustery, a spot which offers an excellent view of the lights. They had gotten some of Professor Koru-Moru's latest fireworks from a moogle and were tossing them about, innocently exclaiming, "They're beautiful! The professor is amazing!" It was a heartwarming scene. The girls said that besides Koru-Moru's newest fireworks, "San d'Oria Flash" and "Bastok Snow" are also being handed out. When I went to talk to the moogle, he gave me some unusual fireworks that were actually different from the three types that the girls had mentioned. Seeing the trees in all three nations and talking to the citizens there reminded me how much people can love their homelands. Their pride was evident as they watched over their trees. Only one thing worries me: What has become of last year's trees? What happened to the large trees with the strange faces that the Rhinostery presented to the other nations last year? Am I the only one who has a bad feeling about this? Rirukuku

Picture it: Logging on, running through Bastok Markets towards Port Bastok square (I'm assuming everyone made the right nation choice), gazing upon the enormous tree decorated with ribbons, and popping a few fireworks as the sun goes down and the tree illuminates the night. 

Nothing in this world fills me with more holiday spirit. Except maybe a Christmas eve Ouija session gone awry.

My favorite part was doing all the little events they had set up, mostly giving out presents to smelly Galka orphans, and receiving something to place in your mog house and forget about. Usually a tree or snowman or something stupid. But I loved it.

An endless stream of new adventurers aspires to the stature of the great defenders of our age. But the recent and sudden rise in novice adventurers has affected many aspects of life in Vana'diel. The most striking effect is the new makeup of the conquest maps. Tragically, many regions have fallen into the horrific grip of the beastmen. "I'm stunned. All of a sudden, the beastmen suddenly started taking control all over the place," said one adventurer. "We haven't seen beastman activity like this since the Great War," said another. The beastmen, aware of the newcomers' inexperience in the ways of war, believe they have found the perfect opportunity to launch a counterattack. Meanwhile, the growth in the number of adventurers has also had an impact on everyday life. One adventurer complained, "I have some fairly unusual equipment, so people are always checking me out. It's embarrassing." Many veteran adventurers remain puzzled by the inexplicable behavior of their younger brethren. Gutti, a longtime adventurer, had this to say: "It looks to me like they're running around without any idea of what they're really doing. They're not taking their own strengths and weaknesses into account when they choose their battles or their strategies. I think they need more guidance from experienced adventurers." Gutti might be right. But is there anything the veterans can do to help the rookies? Some veteran adventurers are making an effort to support and mentor the newcomers. Among them is Ppe, who provides advice for fledgling adventurers and answers their questions. Ppe is right at home in this role, though at first he was at a loss trying to teach even basic strategy. He said, "When I met them, they were marching around trying to kill whatever they happened to come across. The deepest they got into strategy was to know that the sharp end of the sword will kill the goblin. It was just shocking. I started by explaining to them that they need to divide up duties among themselves." Ppe even joined them on the battlefield, showing them how different tactics work. The improvement was apparent immediately. There are other veterans like Willtopower, who purchased a new linkshell and joined a young party in their adventures. Hoping to show them another way to earn money, Willtopower also gave fishing rods to the group. Such generosity is the hallmark of his teaching. Willtopower does not limit himself to passing on his knowledge of adventuring--he also freely gives food and equipment. In the end, he went so far as to present the group with the unopened linkshell so they might help each other in the future. "Some might say that I'm trying to do too much, but I'm only giving them an opportunity. Whether they make use of it is up to them." His pupils, now far from amateurs, expressed cheerful gratitude for his work. "When we first started out, nobody was willing to share their knowledge of the world. I was extremely lucky to meet someone as generous and helpful as Willtopower, " said one. Most of that group have found their own style and are now based in Jeuno. "I believe that, when you help a newcomer, he'll turn around and help someone else later. That's why it's so important for experienced adventurers to go out and help younger, less experienced people," said Willtopower. As Willtopower indicates, we need to think of the future and help adventurers who are still wet behind the ears. Someday, they will be experienced and, with proper mentoring, become stalwart allies in future battles. Contributor : Storm / Kujata

I wholeheartedly agree with this article. New adventurers are a bane to the very foundation of our existence. Not only do they disrupt the marching conquest over the beastmen hordes we worked so hard to attain, but they're just plain stupid. Running around in subligara and BDSM harnesses. 

The nerve! 

And the /tells. Jeebus Cripes, if you were a Mentor, you know the struggle. Keep your M flag down, or you'll get the stupidest questions.

Please stop giving them fishing rods. They are just finding new ways to impale themselves.

Food is an indispensable part of life. But it is chefs that transform it into delicious works of art. Have you ever wondered how these culinary artists polish their skills? I traveled to the Culinarians' Guild in Windurst Waters to find out. While I was waiting in front of the guild, a Tarutaru named Rukah and an Elvaan named Pharis approached. They hesitated when I told them what I was looking for, saying that neither of them had any experience as a chef. I believe it was more than a chance encounter, for when I suggested that they try their hands at the culinary arts, they looked at each other and nodded. They mustered their courage and entered the guild for the first time, deciding that their first challenge would be a simple dish: grilled hare. After consulting with experienced craftsmen, they took up fire crystals and focused hard on the finished product. The air was soon filled with the aroma of grilled hare. The two slices of meat represented their first steps into a larger world. "Delicious," they said in unison. Smiling ear to ear, they partook of their handiwork. To the outside observer, the food was not worthy of note, but to Rukah and Pharis, it was the best meal they'd ever eaten. Encouraged by their first taste of success, they spoke of a sudden desire to continue their studies. "I'm going to be a master chef!" said Rukah with pride. "I want to enter battle strengthened by a meat mithkabob that I made myself," said Pharis as she savored the last bite of her grilled hare. Whatever the skill, mastery requires a great deal of time and practice. But the reward is a taste of the satisfaction and joy known only to those who make the attempt. I wish them only the best as they begin their journey. The next to visit the guild was Tsukito, who has attained the rank of artisan in the guild. When I asked him about his love of cooking, he began by expounding upon the importance of ingredients. Tsukito has spent a great deal of time gathering ingredients since he reached the rank of amateur. With the beastmen growing in power and seizing control of more and more territory, specialty goods have grown scarcer. Sometimes he might be required to travel around the world just to gather ingredients for a single dish. But the thought of people smiling as they enjoy his food keeps Tsukito going. After I finished speaking to Tsukito, I sat down on a bench in front of the guild where other guild members had gathered to chat. Gallve was a very imaginative person who talked about his own original recipes. Listening intently beside him was Nats, smacking her lips at the thought of a tasty treat that she has yet to see. Evityu employed his cooking skills solely to make bait for his fishing hobby. Before going after big game, he catches several small fry and cuts them into appetizing morsels to lure the larger fish. Foxtail also started out just making bait, but he later came to the Culinarians' Guild to try making food for himself. "I also make a mean deep-fried Tarutaru," joked Gagman, to peals of laughter from the gathered crowd. As a Galka black mage, Gagman says that juice is an absolute necessity for him. Seeing such a large cook reminded me of my own father's rather unrefined cooking. The guild members chatted deep into the night about efficient use of materials, cooking haute cuisine, and where to find rare ingredients. Hearing this, a Tarutaru named Poto whispered to himself, "Now I want to give cooking a try." The guildsmen gave him a warm welcome. That night, even the plainest of foods looked somehow better than anything I had ever eaten. Perhaps that is because I have started to appreciate the subtle flavorings of "dreams" and "devotion." Contributor : Myhal / Gilgamesh

Now, everyone here knows my stance on crafting (hint: assfuck). But Culinarian was actually my most leveled craft. I did it for the (incoming pun) sole purpose of crafting sushi. 

That is, until everyone got that exact same idea and a stack of sole sushi went from 20k to 2k overnight.

At least I have this handy chef's knife to stab myself.

My first morning in Sarutabaruta was surprisingly cold. Awakened by the chill in the air, I wrapped myself in my threadbare cloak and decided to take a walk along the Zanbibi River. Looking down into the river's clear waters, I could see the occasional fish swim by. I had lost myself in a childlike daze as I watched them slip in and out of view when I was startled by a nearby moan. My heart nearly leaped out of my throat, stifling a shout of terror into a mere croak. Looking around in a panic, I found an Elvaan woman lying in the grass at my feet. Her face was pale, but I could detect no obvious wounds. "What's wrong? Hang in there." I heard a voice work its way out of a dry throat, saying, "Water... water..." She stretched an arm out toward the river. I lifted her up and helped her to the river's edge. She was like a doll, her body drained of all strength. Crawling up to the water like an infant, she plunged her face into the river. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds passed without her making the slightest movement. Worried, I tapped her shoulder to see if she was still alive. Only then did she raise her head again. "I feel a great deal better now. I'm afraid I overindulged last night." So it was nothing. She had simply had too much fun the night before. I sat back, exhausted. She said to me: "Since I have already received the benefits of your kindness once, I wonder if it might not be too much to ask for a second favor. I have heard that there is, in the region of Norvallen, an Elvaan graveyard. Might you be so kind as to inform me how to find that place?" Her eyes were suddenly sharp, as though she had become another person. I figured she was referring to the Eldieme Necropolis in the Coveffe Barrows. I marked the route on her map and gave her as much detail as I could, noting shortcuts as well as places that were likely to be hazardous. "Perhaps you already know this, but that graveyard is dangerous." "I am going solely to look; I have no intention of spending any significant length of time there, so I foresee no problems. Still, I do appreciate your worry about the welfare of one unknown to you," she replied, running her fingers through her wet hair. "I would like to look upon my father's final resting place just one time, with my own eyes. I have sailed all the way from the southern islands to do so." An Elvaan old enough to be her father? Buried there? That could only mean one thing. "I don't mean to pry, but did your father die in the Great War twenty years ago?" I ventured. Her hands, reaching for her belongings, froze. "Yes, he did," she said. Just as I had suspected. I stopped myself from saying anything more. "I feel it is safe to assume that you also have heard the stories of the small country to the west--one which saw its end with the close of the Great War. My family served the marquis that ruled it." I said nothing, and she continued. "My dear mother fled with me to the southern islands when I was but mere days out of the womb. There she waited for my father, but he perished in the climax of the Great War. History has it that he offered up his life to protect his liege and prove his loyalty to the last..." She paused. "Pardon me. I fear I have been dominating the conversation. I beg your forgiveness." "No, no, that's quite all right. I was just thinking how good it is to meet a fellow countryman." She looked up at me and blinked. As morning drew on into afternoon, the sky began turned a brilliant blue. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky like a herd of sheep, eventually vanishing over the horizon. We sat by the river and talked of our long lost homeland. "There was a river alongside my house. When the weather was clear like this, my brother and I would often go out there to play," I told her. I spoke of my father and brother, with whom I had long been out of contact. It was the first time I had ever volunteered information about my past to anyone. "What was the river like?" she asked. She explained that her mother preferred not to discuss the past, so she had grown up knowing almost nothing of her homeland. Even the smallest details were of interest to her. "It was far bigger than this river," I said. "Of course, maybe it seems that way to me since I was a small child then." She sat hugging her knees, head tilted in my direction, her gaze fixed on the river's surface. "I know nothing of the lands of my home. I cannot even recall the face of my own father. But I have always been proud of my birthplace, and I have always been proud to be my father's daughter." A dry wind began to blow, sending ripples across river's bright surface. I squinted in the glare. She paused and asked, "Say, have you ever been to the island of Elshimo?" "No. I've only heard about it." "My mother and I reside in the port city of Norg. They say Norg is home to numerous people who escaped from our country. You might find a clue about your family there." A flood of emotions welled up within me at those words. My heart began to ache. What if my father and brother were in Norg? No. I shouldn't get my hopes up. For twenty years they have only been dashed. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. We went our separate ways as evening fell, she to the north and I to the south. As we parted, she extended her hand and said, "It has been a pleasure to meet you. I would be greatly like to hear your stories again someday." "Somehow, I have a feeling we'll meet again, though I don't really know where," I replied. "Maybe..." "Back home in Tavnazia!" We shook hands firmly. Her eyes sparkled with all of the strength and beauty of the Tavnazian sunset.

This is an article about Elvaan doing Elvaan things. Probably. It was kinda boring. 

NEXT.

11/13 The rain in the Pashhow Marshlands falls cold. By the time it finally stopped this evening, Leada had already fallen ill. She lay huddled into a ball on the ground, trembling. The cold was closing in around us. Leada warned me, saying "No light fire in swamp. Is bad." But there was nothing else I could do. Leada was right. Soon a Quadav soldier approached with sword drawn. He stomped out the fire and growled as he glared at me. I could not run and leave Leada helpless, so I grabbed my wand. At that moment I heard another growl from afar. I spun and saw a second, larger Quadav approaching from the other side of the swamp. I would have been no match for both of them. But the first Quadav left when he heard the other growl; I had the impression he did not wish to deal with the newcomer any more than necessary. The tall Quadav approached us and spoke to Leada in the Quadav tongue. I did not understand what they were saying, so I was stunned when he lifted Leada over his shoulder. I prepared to attack, but Leada stopped me. "Is OK. Josea, follow. Is OK." I followed the large beastman, who Leada said was called Topaz. We reached the underground Quadav city of Beadeaux before sunset. We passed a machine like a large windmill and many dwellings made of metal as we were shown to our room. It is clear to me that the Quadav are far ahead of other beastmen in the ways of working metal. Once we were alone Leada rested on the metal table where the Quadav had set her and explained to me what was happening. She told me that Topaz is a Quadav priest. Apparently he will treat Leada's fever and we are considered his guests. Goddess, I beseech you to bestow your blessings upon that beastman. 11/14 It seems that Leada has not yet told Topaz that I am a missionary. He brought us breakfast and bombarded me with questions. Leada was still unwell, so she interpreted from her makeshift bed. Are my parents still alive? Grandparents? Are my ancestors the subject of legend? Do I carry my family tree with me? When I finished answering, he looked at me and said "Poor shell-less child." When I asked him what this meant, he related to me an ancient Quadav legend. In the beginning, two giants emerged from the sea of flame. They were Gu'Dha and Do'Nhu. Gu'Dha pressed the flame into earth with his feet while his scales fell and became trees and beasts. Do'Nhu laid countless eggs and her tears formed the oceans and rivers. Many Qua'dav were born from those eggs. But the eggs also yielded people and other beastmen. That was because Do'Nhu loved Gu'Dha's creatures too much. Gu'dha did not blame Do'Nhu for this, and instead promised to care for all of her children. But he would not allow any but the Qua'dav, who resembled him, to wear shells. Hearing this shocked me. This legend was, of course, a fallacy. But for beastmen, who were created to fight people, to realize that we can live as brothers... The legend continued. Do'Nhu raised the shell-less children together with the Qua'dav. But the shell-less children were unhappy. One day they killed the Qua'dav in their sleep and stole their shells. Do'Nhu's grief transformed her into a swamp. Gu'Dha burrowed into the earth in grief and rage, leaving behind only the words "I shall return, someday, as darkness." I decided against contradicting the legend, in the hope that we might one day grow to understand each other. He says he will be back to visit us tomorrow and the next day. I will show him the light of Altana then. Goddess, bestow your love upon the shelled ones. 11/15 Beadeaux has been ringing with shouts of "The Adamantking has returned!" Topaz told us that Za'Dha the Adamantking was leading the Royal Guard home from victory against the Orcs. Topaz urged us to leave. He had led us into the city against the protests of his comrades by saying, "One should not fight people when the Adamantking is away." Now that the king had returned, Topaz's words carried no force. Leada began to gather her belongings as soon as she finished interpreting. If this was her decision, it must be right. I decided to leave Beadeaux. "If the Adamantking is Gu'Dha returned to us, the world shall fall into darkness. Unshelled brothers, have you awakened to the blessings of Do'Nhu?" asked Topaz as he showed us out. His words sounded like prophecy, but I could not divine their meaning. I feel that something awful is coming. What it is, and from where it comes, I do not know. Chills run down my spine. Leada is back to her old self, beside me and singing off-key. Perhaps she is just trying to distract me as I write.   Rich man, rich man   Scattering gold in the streets   If I could have just a copper piece   What it means, what it can buy   I don't understand   I don't know why In any case, I should send word back to the Cathedral. Goddess, shield our mother world from the darkness of Gu'Dha.

Hey, look who it is. Our lovable level retard white mage Elvaan.

Whichever genius saw it fit to dub this walking Raise /shout a missionary should be fired in actual fire.

This is why we can't have peace with the Quadav. They don't take us seriously with this guy fainting every time he trips over a rock.

That, and the fact I happily murder Quadav babies. Shell or no, they all must die.

Hello. This is Professor Emanritan again. How are you? Are you adventurers out there participating in the Conquest? Huh? You're spending all your time making things at the guild? That's good, too. Today's lesson on names will be our last lesson. What a pity! Our final article, then, will be on the names of the Tarutaru and the Mithra that they share Windurst with. I myself am from Windurst.... Surrounded by nature and with such clear air! What a wonderful place. Though it has suffered some awful wars, with the help of Tarutaru magic and the cooperation of the Mithra, Windurst is recovering. Even now, the city is a beautiful center of education and development that any country would be proud to call its own. Doesn't that sound nice? Let's start with Tarutaru male names: "Aram-Param," "Baren-Moren," and of course we can't forget "Emanritan." As you have noticed, the last part of a Tarutaru man's name rhymes with the first. It has been said that this is how ancient spells of the Tarutaru worked. By the way, my name has no relation to any spells. My parents told me that they gave me a name that fit the moment. They wouldn't tell me any more about it... Back to the subject at hand, let's have a look at Tarutaru female names. I think that "Finene," "Chomomo," and "Kerutoto" are all good examples. As you can see from the examples of "nene," "toto," and "momo," the last two syllables of the name are the same. This syllable is not just assigned randomly. Surprisingly, the names are based on the orientation of the child in relation to the famous Star Tree at the time of birth. All rather mystical, don't you think? This ancient practice shows how much the Tarutaru have come to revere the Star Tree. Perhaps this changes the way you see the Tarutaru. While I'd love to continue talking about the Tarutaru, I think it's time to move on to our final subject, the names of the Mithra. The Mithra are a very clever race, making them excellent hunters. But what are their names like? Examples include "An Shanaa," "Hanaa Punaa," and "Fo Mocorho." Because Mithra are called by their first and last names, their names tend to be slightly longer than those of the Tarutaru. While out hunting, they call each other by only the first part of the name, "An," "Hanaa," and "Fo" would be used in the examples given. In fact, they seem to do this whenever they are closing in on something or in a tense situation. One might surmise that, if their names were as long and elegant as those of Elvaan men, they'd bite their tongues and whatever they were chasing would slip away. But I wouldn't go so far as to say that for fear of offending my Elvaan friends. Well, I'm afraid that's all. I hate to finish so soon, but this is the end of the series. Until we meet again, stay well!

Yet another article that completely forgets people like to name their characters "xCloudx" and "Sluttycat". 

Back stories to race-based names are fine and dandy, but when you see fifty bastardizations of Sephiroth running around, you start to lose faith in whatever humanity actually remains.

That's it for issue 20. Tune in whenever when I whatever with something.