The Legend of L'kega
Draga may be the descendant of pirates, he may come from a people born to sail the open seas, and he may have metaphorical ocean water coursing through his veins, but none of this changed the simple fact that this particular Rogeadyn hated boats. He found them cramped, unable to accommodate his hulking frame, and he was prone to seasickness; a fact that attracted derision from his fellow Seawolves. Still, travelling by boat was the only way to travel to Mist without anyone rooting around in his belongings. He couldn’t risk anyone finding what he had stolen, or as Kega would have called it: liberated.
The boat finally docked and Draga was all too happy to get his feet on solid ground. He paid the captain the rest of what he owed, which happened to be most of the gil he had with him, and got off of that stinking vessel. He was surprised to find the island was mostly residential. People milled about around him, simply going about their business. It was certainly nicer here than Ul’dah. Fewer people looked like they wanted to kill him, and the fresh ocean air was much easier on the lungs. Draga wondered if there was somewhere he could stay for cheap, just incase this job ended up being a scam. Kega had found most of their work; they were adventurers, specializing in deep recovery missions. They raided tombs and recovered artifacts for rich weirdos who wanted to own something legendary. It kept them fed and always provided them a bed to sleep in, but the Mi’Qote was always sad that no one could see the amazing things they saw. “This should be in a museum,” he would inevitably say every time they had to hand a priceless heirloom over.
But this job was different. It was still spelunking for the benefit of what Draga assumed was a rich eccentric, but Kega didn’t find it. This person had found them. Draga fished the letter out of his pocket to go over it again:
To the esteemed pair of L’kega Zotko and Bylgdraga Cwinsyngsyn,
I hope that this letter finds you agreeable. It has come to my attention that the two of you are the foremost treasure extractors in all of Eorzea. No doubt it is due to the special bond between you. I share your chagrin at the idea that that which you acquire is only enjoyed by the elite few. These magnificent treasures should be appreciated by everyone!
I have a proposition for you: I am opening a museum which I hope will house many artifacts and curiosities, but the problem is that I am rather short on both at the moment. There is a sword that I believe is deep within an ancient Amal’jaa ruin and I would very much like to have it. I believe that the two of you are just the men to retrieve it for me. I am not offering a substantial amount of gil, but I am offering something more; the chance to be a part of something greater than yourselves.
I have enclosed the location where I believe it is buried. Once you have procured the blade, you may bring it to building 5 of ward 15 on the island of Mist. There you will find a pleasant group who will be happy to see you. Gods speed and I look forward to a long and fruitful relationship.
A long and fruitful relationship indeed. Draga had not wanted to accept this job. He didn’t perform this work for the love of adventure like Kega did. For him, this was only a means to an end, a way to leverage what he was good at into a living, and this Rhotano character was not offering money. But Kega was adamant. This offer spoke to Kega in a way that no other job had, and Draga just couldn’t say no to the Mi’qote.
Draga walked the worn cobblestone streets of Mist, taking in all the sights. He made note of a lively looking inn and a row of shops. Clearly a lot of adventurers made their home here. Draga wondered if they would be competition for work or if he would find a community that he could be a part of. He was not optimistic. He did not have good luck befriending anyone, let alone other glory seekers. That is why meeting Kega was such serendipity. Kega understood him in a way that few had before. He was an optimist, and he would say that Draga was going to be just fine.
Retrieving the sword was certainly not what they had expected. The ruins were full of traps and perils. After plunging to the depths, the pair found the sword only to incense the ire of a tribe of Amal’jaa who had made their home in those ruins. They fled with the sword, the Amal’jaa in close pursuit. Draga made it across a particularly shaky bridge only to turn and watch the bridge collapse beneath Kega’s feet. He plunged into a pit that Draga could not see the bottom of. Draga waited for as long as he could, desperate for any sign of his friend, but the Amal’jaa caught up to him and he had to flee with his life, much as he wanted to hurl himself into the pit as well.
He thought long and hard about what to do with this cursed sword. He sat in his room in the Quicksand staring at it, loathing it. Maybe he could sell it and rid himself of this life for good. He thought of ending his own life with it, feeling it fitting that the sword would be the demise of both of them. But he knew what Kega would have wanted.
He stopped in front of building 5 in ward 15 on the island of Mist. Draga might not be able to bring his lover back, but he could complete the job that Kega was so enthused about. He approached the mansion and knocked on the door.