Post by Fyursos on Apr 22, 2018 0:55:14 GMT -5
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’Sir’ if you’re smart, ‘Fursie’ if you want to be slapped.
Hydaelyn (Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward)
None of note.
Fyursos is, and always has been, a believer in upfront solutions to problems. He is an aggressor in negotiations, forceful in conversation and in combat. It was necessary to be successful as an officer in the Illuminati, where only those who were open and honest could be trusted with any high position. His dislike of subtlety made him an ideal tactician for shock operations. Thus, most of his time commanding troops dealt with the armored sort, with mechs and machina.
He is an enthusiastic leader and conqueror. His tenacity in this regard has made him a source of inspiration for his subordinates. Many who have worked beside, above or under him have even described him as 'zealous'. The devout few who work alongside the Illuminati for purely religious reasons see him as a righteous leader, one of the small number truly worthy to do the Collective's work. He, meanwhile, just sees himself as someone who feels that, if someone is not strong enough to win with power and skill, then they lack the merit needed to be a good warrior, let alone the leader he aspires to be.
Though he admired the progress that Allthoughts was able to make with the Alexander project, he holds many issues with the specifics of how it was handled. In his eyes, allowing key machina like the Cruise Chaser to enter combat with minimal support, if any. Fyursos believes that Goblins, as a race, are meant to face problems as a collective body, as is the nature of both the Illuminati and the newly-formed Collective. He embraces this idea in combat as well. Very few times will he try to meet an opponent alone. Instead, he often tries to travel with a team of allies, and will rarely hesitate to call in help if he has the chance. His subordinates, ever loyal, will always be listening for his voice, ready to answer on a moment's notice.
As upfront as he is in combat, this is partly a ruse. He doesn't use force just for the sake of simplicity. Rather, he does so in order to disrupt and overwhelm his opponent. If he can't, then he always likes to make sure that someone else has a chance to so he can set up the rest of whatever plan he has in store- Plans which usually involve something really important being blown up.
Fyursos was born into a tribe of Goblins that had long since been assimilated into the Illuminati. This massive collective, with its familiar name, preached and honored their single goal without falter: World domination. They have tried many methods over the years since its inception, and though it hasn't yet succeeded it has gotten the attention of many others. The nature of this attention has ranged from direct opposition to some who beg on their knees for a chance to get in on the action. All are either consumed or destroyed once the Illuminati come close, assuming they don't flee somewhere else, and it's this consistent track record that has allowed them to pillage a number of smaller tribes.
Their most recent plan involved gathering all the different cheese recipes of Dravania's Goblin tribes. With them, they could dominate a large part of an international trade, and gain a massive fortune with which to fund their war effort. To do this, they called on the Primal Alexander, and nearly succeeded in piloting the machine into an open space from which to launch a proper invasion of the surrounding areas, including Ishgard. Alexander's high demand for fuel left it beached, however, and a team of insurgents was able to shut it down before it made any further progress. This was the 'Alexander Disaster', which punched a great hole in the Illuminati's leadership, funding, and even the loyalty of its tribes. It was during this time that, in the absence of the assassinated leader, Fyursos rose to power.
The Illuminati was crippled and fragmented now, and plenty were sure that it would never recover enough to pose the same threat it used to, but Fyursos, a mere officer at the time, saw an opportunity. He took those who still listened and raided the yet-unexplored parts of the dissipating Alexander, taking with him a number of metals, crystals, automatons, weapons and vehicles. With these, he inspired three tribes to come back together. Firebloom and Shotlance were two, and the third, whose name is now lost, soon attempted to split away again. They were made an example of, and those who weren't killed in the fighting were absorbed into the ranks of the other two. These became the two Divisions of the New Collective, headed by Fyursos himself. He had already proven himself to be a decisive leader, with the same ruthlessness that only Allthoughts, summoner of Alexander, had ever dared to boast before.
Fyursos brought danger to himself with these actions, though, and soon his Collective was put on watch by the authorities of Dravania and Ishgard. With the issues of Thordan and Nidhogg having been fully dealt with, they were fully free to put their eyes on a fledgling warmonger like him, and he knew it. He proposed as a solution that they leave behind their current home and find another land. Whether they would go to Garlemald or Eorzea, they were unsure, but they knew they couldn't allow themselves to be followed. In the end, Fyursos came to a conclusion: No one could follow them if they didn't know where they were going.
So they build a rocket. A grand, hollow thing, with engines no one tested, fuel no one measured, and no way to plan or navigate to any wanted destination. In theory, it would take them somewhere far, far away. Hopefully, they could land in some place where no nation of note held ground, with locals who could be easily subjugated and resources that could be harvested freely. What they didn't know was that, with their lack of control over the machine, they would leave their World entirely. Moreso, that the rocket would break up along its journey out of orbit, causing a quarter of the passengers to crash back down to Hydaelyn from the sky, unintentionally left behind by their one remaining leader.
This is the story of Fyursos Shotlox, who would later grow to become an unrivaled conqueror of men.
Gods help us all.
”The Whirlicogs is not a ‘Primal’, per se. It is machina, as pure as any other vehicle.”
It was already done. Fyursos, the lone soul who had brought back together the warmongering clan he'd lived as a part of all his life, considered what he'd done and what he'd seen. The rocket was built without flaw, and his loyal subordinates had all done their part in loading it with arms, armor, food and everything in between before they boarded it themselves. In theory, it would bring them to a new land, where they could grow as a people without fear of the Dragons or even the Holy See. No one would ever be able to follow them.
The machine itself was built of mythrite and rocksteel- Both were strong, versatile metals that worked well in building plates and pipes. With that on top of his own mastery over engineering and construction, the rocket should have been perfect. It was to be an invincible carrier, with its creators and their devices as its cargo. The whole thing was all he could have wanted from an escape and more, in that it couldn't be brought down even by Nidhogg himself. Now, in the air and passing heights that no dragon would dare to tempt, he and his sort were proven wrong.
When they finally pierced the heavens of Hydaelyn, that was when it happened. Something in the rocket had shifted, and from his glass-cased cell in the side of the hull Fyursos could see the damage. He was there, watching from the head as fire burst from the atop the engines, swallowing the lower cells. When the smoke and flame had mostly cleared, he saw the lower third of the rocket, split off and broken apart in the air, falling slowly back down once their momentum was lost. It carried many of his comrades, whether they be soldiers or engineers, back down through the clouds with no way to return to the leader they had trusted to help them escape.
And there was nothing he could do, for it was already done.
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