Never take a pirate at his word. Theirs is a lot given to exaggeration and hyperbole—those of our own Lominsan waters not least of all. For something in the pirate mind compels them to lay claim to the greatest boast, no matter how unlikely or unbelievable. No doubt they would all swear before Llymlaen herself to having seen a sea serpent as long as a galleon, or a dazzling storm of shooting stars that light up the night as bright as day. Ever dragon nest gold have these free souls of the seas told the most grandiose lies at every possible utterance, just as naturally as they cast their sails or row their oars. But such is not always the case, as I recently discovered...
Allow me to share with you a certain tale from the lands of Coerthas in the north, told to me by a pirate who earns his keep sailing up the White Maiden to sell off his plunder. The following words are his own, untouched by mine own quill.
“Aye, ’at bleedin’ meteor plopped down right there on the outskirts o’ Owl’s Nest, it did. ‘Fore I knew what was what, a bomb bigger’n an aldgoat rose up from that selfsame spot. Watched with me own eye as it took to eatin’ e’erything around it, growin’ bigger ‘n bigger all the while. Finally made its way right up to the gates of Ishgard, it did. Gahaha, I bet them fancy-as-you-please knights roastin’ in their armor made for a tender meal! Tell me they didn’t! Gaha— Hm? What else, you say? Not much, really. I heard them Ishgard folk are callin’ the thing a Bombard, but that’s all I know, Twelve take me if it ain’t.”
Were this but a sole account, perhaps it would be easy to dismiss as idle banter—the boastful stylings of some pirate raconteur. But what if I were to tell you that before ever speaking to this man, I had word from one of the Herald’s own correspondents in Ishgard? A man of unquestionable character, he claims that a tremendous explosion could be heard and felt throughout the city from the direction of the Gates of Judgment. Moreover, a number of fully armored knights were reported to have suffered severe burns, and a wave of heat washed over the entire city and lays there still now, plaguing the Ishgardians day in and day out.
By now no doubt all have heard of the Firefall Faire being prepared for in Eorzea’s cities. But tell me this—do you not find something strange about these festivities? Why, I ask, in the midst of these the year’s hottest days, must we be forced to look upon balloons fashioned in the likeness of bombs, and everywhere reminded of this unbearable heat from which we constantly seek even the briefest of respites?
And is it not a particular peculiarity that the Adventurers’ Guild, in dire straits as it is in recent days, has seen fit to affiliate itself with these so-called faire chaperones? Little and less of this faire sits well in the belly of this reporter...
One rumor maintains that said guild received an extremely generous boon from the city-states’ coffers in exchange for rallying adventurers to help eradicate these infernal bombs. And what of the balloons, then? All part of the plan, it would seem. Some go so far as to make them for decoys meant to deceive the eyes of these explosive monstrosities. Perhaps you thought yourself safe behind city walls? Perhaps you thought that such tales were no more than stories told by wetnurses to children in faraway lands? The fact remains that a meteor fell to Eorzea, and an outbreak of fiery chaos has followed in its wake. And as if that were not foreboding enough, I leave you with this final disquieting thought.
