Dark TIdes

The night brought a gray shadow to the companions all gathered along the beach's hovel, just north of Costa Del Sol. The jellies and gulls knew aether, and rightly steered clear of the men gathered in solemn meeting. The tide was a gentle reminder of the freedoms they were afforded for so long, and the perils they would face sooner or later.

These men would always opt for sooner.

"I'm not sure where to go from here, friends," said the scholar, thumbing through his Allagan book casually with a feint grin upon his lips. "The politics have been eliminated, and our lives have been given back to us. What say you?"

Garflex the Conjurer yawned and stretched, though he was not particularly fatigued. His cane was planted firmly in the ground where he sat. "That girl-boy thing... not Alphinaud but... oh, what the hells was her name?"

The shuffling of red and black steel meant a pointing gesture from Urumi, the paladin turned warrior. "Alisae."

"Yeah, her. She said something about a second coil."

"I'm aware of that as well, actually." Sand Dunes scratched his head, then absently dusted his already flawless black robes. "That elezen girl mentioned that this coil is of a stronger nature than the one we faced those months ago."

"That just means more problems," said Katara, twisting the point of his sword against the ground like a spinning top.

The black mage shrugged and then went back to his dusting. "Never stopped us before, if that whole Allagan armor debacle was any indication."

"Remember when primals were trouble?" mentioned Rha'qa, squatting like a typical mi'qote, his ears tipping this way and that as he quizzically studied the horizon.

The bard named Xillian was strumming his bow, playing the Army's Peon in a low and non-battle-worthy fashion, meant more to soothe the ears than ignite the fire of war. "I dunno. That Leviathan fella was a real bitch to take down. Kept knockin' us around that rickety little boat."

"Hmph," grunted Uther with a look at his own Allagan book, a star contrast to Shane's. "He fell all the same. As will many others should they know our wrath."

"Seconded," replied Rha'qa cheerfully. "So Shane..."

The odd and ominous leader shut his book at the mention of his name. He knew the question before it was even asked, but gave his ally an even glance over his shoulder.

"... how 'bout it? We headed to another coil of Bahamut?"

At length he took a few steps toward the sea, the toes of his boots nudging the edge of the tide, then turned to all of them. "I don't suppose you all would like to visit your respective cover stories before we make the trip?"

No one replied, which was answer enough.

Rha'qa and Garflex had rejoined Ferret Company under the new leadership of Firefox Seraph and Skymaera Duskrider. The guild of assailants was still reeling from the political onslaught when it was discovered that the former company master was stealing from the bank and falsely implicating his subordinates in crimes against the Imperial forces. With help and financial support from Rha'qa and tactical lessons from Garflex, the company was very close to the 180-degree turn they longed for.

Sand, Uther, Xillian, and Katara joined Hydra, a former rival of Ferret Company. It was an olive branch between the companies to assuage past transgressions against one another. At least, that's what the politicians believe.

Knowing that threats even greater than the primals and Twintania existed, Urumi and Shane joined smaller, less known free companies in an attempt to raise a new set of defenders against the coming tide of aetheric evil. To the masses, they disappeared from known memory, rumored to have spirited themselves away to Ishgard somehow. No one would suspect that Shane simply changed his hairstyle and eye color, and that Urumi had taken up the warrior's axe.

"I'll take us to Fallgourd. We'll have our contact get us into the coil undetected." Shane began the teleportation spell. The others readied themselves to be carried by it.

They stood, gathered their weapons and belongings with just the right amount of haste, and in the blink of an eye, they were all gone.

And so the tide was upon Eorzea, and the story reinvented itself in the Fabled Eight, the realm's own heroes of chaos.