Beyond the Rift (WHF/FFXIV)

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It seems to be differnet world, however our dear Scions seem to think it's a different shard, given how they are calling the people around "Lalafells, Kobolts" etc in their head. So, i'm guessing they somehow connected to another world, but they think it's a shard.
 
This chapter reminds me of the districts of Ul'dah. Well, at least the Empire doesn't legally endorse slavery, so that should be a nice change compared to that pit of a city-state.
 
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XI - Rusty Remedies
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    • Chapter Eleven – Rusty Remedies

    Finding the apothecary Daubler proved surprisingly easy, for he had a fine reputation and was much in demand. A few polite enquiries saw her directed to the Nordgate district, on the northern edge of the city, where densely packed streets and clamorous foundries gave way to long tracts of fertile farmland and dense clusters of verdant forest. The sight of such natural beauty so close to the urban sprawl was an immense temptation, but eventually Elriza turned away with a sigh. She had a job to do.

    Rusty Remedies was a squat redbrick building tucked away down a small sidestreet, the exterior covered with vibrant flowers woven through a wooden lattice. The street outside was bustling with a peculiar kind of activity, well dressed townsfolk streaming in and out of the small building or lurking in dispersed crowds outside, and whenever anyone so much as coughed the whole gathering seemed to flinch. Elriza paid them no mind, entering the apothecary's building at a stoop and taking a seat in the well-appointed waiting area, feeling slightly awkward as the wooden chair creaked alarmingly beneath her bulk. A serving girl in a neatly pressed uniform waited by the door leading further in, and after a quarter bell or so beckoned for her to proceed inside.

    "Ah, a new face," said the man she had come to see, fixing her with his brilliant blue eyes and taking a puff on a curved pipe. His office seemed little more than a personal library, the shelves piled high with beautifully bound books and every square ilm of wall given over to some certificate or carefully preserved piece of correspondence. "I am Doctor Daubler. What ails you, my good woman?"

    "Personally, nothing," Elriza said with a shrug, bowing slightly to avoid cracking her head on the wooden beams of the ceiling, "but Captain Nierhaus sent me here, and he seems to think you can help."

    Daubler's eyes widened briefly, and without a word he rose to his feet and closed the door to his office before drawing the curtains across the windows. Only then, when he was certain they could not be seen or overheard, did he think to reply.

    "You know the Captain is dead?" he asked, and when Elriza nodded he sighed, "A shame, truly. He was a good man."

    "He told me to get these to you," Elriza replied, choosing not to comment on the dead man's character as she removed the notes and the book from within her pack, "seemed to think you could use them to treat the plague… and stop the rats who created it."

    "…these notes are in Gotthard's hand. He is dead too, then?" Daubler asked with a frown, and again Elriza nodded. "I feared as much. It is not well known among the populace at large, but this is not the first time that the Empire has suffered outbreaks of this nature. An old or otherwise preexisting plague, returned in greater strength at moments of great uncertainty or strategic weakness – most attribute such things to the servants of the Fly Lord, but they are rarely wont to be anonymous."

    "My comrade is speaking with the Shallyans," Elriza nodded, reminded of the epithet that the sister superior had used, "He believes the Ague to be more poison than plague, or at least to contain elements of both."

    "He does? An intriguing notion, one that would demand… yes, accounting for a subverted immune system… then how would…" Daubler murmured in thought, already leafing through the papers she had brought, "I will begin work at once, and send word as soon as I have something actionable."

    "We are staying at the Three Apples," Elriza nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. Part of her worried for the doctor's safety, but there shouldn't be anything to connect him to Widenhoft, and assassinating a man who lived alone in a lawless port town was surely less challenging than getting to one in his place of business at the heart of Talabheim. "How else can I help?"

    "Well, I… don't take this the wrong way, good lady, but unless you happen to be an apothecary of no small skill…"

    "Medicinal alchemy, actually, in the city of Ul'dah. Phrondile's Phrontistery hold a royal warrant for such things," Elriza said dryly, grinning at the flash of surprised chagrin on Daubler's face. "I doubt it will help though. Different ingredients, and our techniques rely on the manipulation of aether. Magic, in these lands."

    "Truly? Well I suppose it is gratifying to hear the trade flourishes even in distant lands," Daubler murmured, ducking his head in silent apology for the presumption, "As for your techniques – I've heard that wizards of the Gold college dabble in alchemy, and those of the Jade blend their techniques with medicine. Alas that I do not know any of them by name to make an introduction, but… you may wish to seek out the blacksmith Yavandir. He's an elf, and I've heard his people practice similar techniques."

    "An elf?" Elriza said, surprised. Such was the name that the Elezen were known by on the First, and she was surprised to find it used here as well. "Of course. Do you have his address?"

    -/-

    Nordgate boasted a great many smiths, forges and metalworkers, the sound of hammers and pistons echoing constantly through the warren of soot-stained stone, but few facilities were quite so distinctive as the shop of the elf blacksmith Yavandir. The elegant pale stone was free of dirt or discoloration, and the air around it seemed somehow cleaner than any other, but most striking of all were the sets of worn and bloody armour hung up just outside, each one bearing the ragged punctures and ugly stains of a single mortal wound. As warnings went, Elriza had to admit she had seen few better.

    A small bell rang as she stepped through the door, but to her surprise there was nobody behind the counter to greet her, only the first of over a dozen wooden mannequins that stood silently around the shop. Each bore a set of beautifully crafted armour, and next to each stood a rack or case bearing a selection of magnificent weaponry. There were swords and spears, daggers and polearms, a hundred different varieties of sculpted death to whet the appetite and inspire the soul, and Elriza could not help but hum in appreciation as she moved quietly through the displays. The craftsmanship on display was truly exquisite, the beautiful elegance of metal brought forth in a way that complemented the practical function of both arms and armour, and even without touching them Elriza could tell they were perfectly designed to resonate with the wielder's aether.

    One piece in particular caught her attention, seeming to exude a quiet gravity that drew the eye to its mount above and behind the counter. It was a sword, so slender it appeared almost delicate, and there was something about the metal that seemed subtly different to those around it. It was darker, paler, shining with a quiet light that entirely failed to make sense, and after a moment Elriza realised why it felt so oddly familiar.

    "Chondrite?" she murmured, slowly extending a hand towards the gilded hilt, "But how…"

    "I do not know that name," said a voice from behind her, causing Elriza to almost jump in place, "but I am intrigued by the notion that you would find it familiar."

    Mastering herself, Elriza turned. Behind her stood the elf Yavandir, with the pointed ears and pale hair so common among the Elezen, his heavy leather apron festooned with tools of the blacksmith's trade. He was as tall as her, or near enough, and only a hair less broad and muscled, legacies of his ancestry and trade both, and right now he was studying her with remarkable intensity.

    "We harvest it from meteors, or from… further afield," Elriza explained, looking back at the sword and its position of prominence. "It's difficult to work, but there's nothing like it for aetheric resonance."

    "In this land it is known first as Star Metal, or to the dwarves as Gromril," Yavinder said slowly, still studying her intently with those dark blue eyes. "Born to this world by meteors, such as the one whose shadow Talabheim stands within. Shards are found within the Taalbaston on occasion and are much prized by the city's wizards and learned folk. Tell me, and speak true – have you worked this metal yourself?"

    There was a significance in the question that Elriza did not understand, but in the end she nodded, and with care drew the axe from her back. It hummed slightly as she held it up, the edge limned in blood-red light born of the burning runes, and Yavinder eyed it as one might a crown, or perhaps a deadly snake.

    "I worked with a man named Gerolt to make this," Elriza said, smiling ruefully at the memory, "Or rather, I sourced the raw materials and forged the core. It was he who did the detail work, and our… patron who helped cleanse the last impurities and align it with my aether."

    "Remarkable. May I?" Yavinder asked, and when she nodded, he stretched forth his hand and brushed the fingers lightly across the surface of the weapon. "Truly remarkable. Are you aware that you are currently speaking Eltharin?"

    Elriza blinked, then coughed awkwardly. "Ah, sorry. I can use the local tongue if you prefer – Reikspeil, right?"

    "No, please, to speak with another in my mother tongue is a rare pleasure," Yavinder smiled, a wary, tentative thing, "I merely thought to ask where you learned it. If, perhaps, some of my kin had come to live alongside and teach your ancestors."

    "No. Or, well, there are Elezen – elves – in Eorzea, but nobody taught me," Elriza shook her head, carefully returning the axe to its mount on her back, "I bear a gift, a blessing of light from… well, we call it the Echo. Speaking every language is one benefit among many."

    "Fascinating. I wonder…" Yavinder mused, before shaking his head, "I am from Laurelorn, far to the north and west of here. I came to this city to demonstrate my craft and that of my kin, in hopes that it might one day rival the regard the humans show to dwarf work – and I confess, in hopes I might learn to work such shards of gromril that I could lay hands upon. Perhaps we might speak at length, and demonstrate our techniques?"

    "Happy to," Elriza grinned, rolling her shoulders, "been a while since I worked some metal, and I've questions aplenty of you and yours. Lead on!"

    For those curious – Gromril is among the rarest possible material in the Warhammer world, one that only the dwarves really know how to properly work. It is generally said to come from meteorites, and some sources claim those meteorites enter the world through the Polar gates, leading to Gromril being frequently found in proximity to warpstone.

    Chondrite is a spectacularly rare material in Eorzea, found in meteorites… and in Ultima Thule, the absolute furthest end of the universe, a place where physical law breaks down and the land is shaped by emotion and memory. The Realm of Chaos, if it was really fucking depressing.

    Given the similarities, I decided that for the purpose of this crossover they were the same thing.
     
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    • The following conversation is either going to clear a lot of things up for Elriza, or only confirm her biases more. Wonder if she'll ask about the dwarves - having seen rotund lalafel, there's not many options for what the dawi could be as an eorzan race.
     
    Maugan Ra said:
    "I worked with a man named Grenoldt to make this," Elriza said, smiling ruefully at the memory, "Or rather, I sourced the raw materials and forged the core. It was he who did the detail work, and our… patron who helped cleanse the last impurities and align it with my aether."
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    I'm cackling at Elriza burying the lede of 'our patron cleansed the impurities by flexing at it really hard'

    EDIT: I misremembered!

    The lede was, in fact
    "Our patron cleansed the impurities by sweating on it."
     
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    Yavinder is certainly polite for an Elf. The Elves of Warhammer (be they High, Dark and Wood) are known to be haughty towards humans and other races they deem inferior.
     
    Artemis1992 said:
    This one lives in a human city.
    Not in an Elf-quarter like Marienburg and Erengrad have, but right there among them.

    Toning down the arrogance is propably pretty important for his business and possibly his life.
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    Also Laurelorn is an example of a Woof Elf culture that has to live with the Empire in close proximity without Athel Loren- so iirc they're not… as arrogant.
     
    As far as I can tell Laurelorn entirely exists so role-playing parties can have an Elf since, as mentioned above, every previously existing kind of Elf either would never actually do productive heroing stuff or wouldn't stay unstranggled for more than five minutes once the constraints of a campaign setup remove the power differential between them and those that have to suffer them.
     
    We have no idea how arrogant he normally is, but he realized she had knowledge he wanted before greeting her.
    He might at least be smart enough to tone it down when making requests.
     
    Yeah the absolutely flawless Eltharin- which iirc is an incredibly difficult language- probably short-circuited the arrogance as well.
     
    It's worth noting that the arrogance of Elves in WHFB is also far from universal. They're isolationist, and Dark Elves are especially arrogant (with true Wood Elves especially isolationist), but they absolutely can and do get along with people at times. If anything it's more often paternalistic "Oh you misguided little puppies" from a few demographics.

    ... Speaking Eltharin probably helps, since if you know that at bare minimum you're better learned and more genuinely interested in Elvish society. At most already proven yourself to be somebody they trust to [and have spent the time learning from] teach.

    Elves get kind of a bad reputation in WHFB between 8E / End Times silliness and people exporting Eldar characteristics to them. Not helped in-universe by most people who don't live on the coast rarely seeing them unless it's a congregation looking to deal with Waystones [relatively few between, if seemingly frequent in their inspections] or Dark Elves having pushed inland. 6E makes a point that most people who wander through Wood Elf communities don't even realize they've done so, which suggests they aren't "Kill anyone who gets close to our home" and more "Won't get in the way of any Forest Spirits deciding you should leave / become fertilizer".

    E: Like, to reiterate, people learning Eltharin is not a "Obscure Eldar Scholar operating under the table and avoiding Inquisitorial execution" in WHFB. It's a thing that many learned people just. Well. Learn. Heck Nehekharan Lich Priests picked it up over the years back when they still had bowel movements. Elves go places in the Empire. They tend not to stay unless Reasons, but it's a significantly less strained relation and only more aloof in comparison to the Dawi.
     
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    Acacia Eocene said:
    A non-elf who speaks flawless Eltharin is interesting enough to be worth being polite to.
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    Speaks flawless Eltharin AND seems to knows stuff about the real reason he moved to that human city in the first place. We're talking "good chance this person can advance one of my life goals". ...which is absolutely the case. WoL crafter is kind of wild.
     
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    Eltharin is a highly melodic language, and emphasis on certain words or syllables can eliminate subtleties or intended meanings. But not just that, it's also the sort of language where every word has multiple meanings, and those meanings are often antonyms to one another.

    The elven lifespan means that they have all the time in the world to get used to it and grasp the relevant subtleties.

    For instance, Yenlui means balance or harmony, but it also means chaos (or possibly Chaos). Sendai means dedication, sacrifice, and also resentment. And my favorite, Tavlu is the rune of Hoeth (god of knowledge), and it also means 'the tower, wisdom, misery'.

    So certain complex concepts are just implied into the language, like how dedicating yourself to something or sacrificing your time can make you resentful, or how being wise also means being miserable a lot of the time.

    Regardless of speaking it due to a gift, speaking Eltharin perfectly is remarkable.
     
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    Is she gonna be confused when she gets to fight Wulfric the Wanderer and he insults her in her native tongue? Inquiring minds want to know how two gifts of universal language interact.
     
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