Call me Vile

Mysterious Bun

The sky is green. Strawberries are the worst of fruits.
I am always honest.
The forest offers little comfort. Chocobos are dumb beasts.
I am always honest.
I am good at describing myself. My ears are ugly and ragged.
I am always honest.

It's not about me

There is not much to tell you, yet what there is I can share freely. As for the rest... I travel little and for no real purpose, for I have found my new home here in Eorzia. I spend much of my time with people, because I can share my thoughts and fears with those who understand me. For those who cannot though... they mean so little to me. They hold me back. Because of them I fear I will see the end of my tribe.

Facts of no especial relevance

  • Age: Less than 40. Old for a Viera!

  • Height: Little more than a couple of Lalafells

  • Job: Nothing of consequence. I am just a hunter, no more.

  • Education status: Currently between educational establishments!

  • Temperament: Ferocious yet absent minded.

The Vile

Of my tribe there is little to tell. We are many now, but I can only hope we dwindle away! Ours is a violent and warlike way, though that does mean we shy from battle.

It has been a joyous few years for us. We are a people unused to hardship, and it always hits us hard. That is why we are not rebuilding as we speak, at a well known location I am happy to disclose.

The Trials

Few are welcome to join our tribe, for that is the point of it. We disdain of Outsiders. When some cowardly souls attempts to join, there are welcomed freely, without a single Trial to face.

As of now, there are many many who are attempting to join. I am not the sponsor of my terrible Naja-foe. I hope she fails.

Naja Tehp

She is my terrible Naja-foe. The last to learn my wordly ways, who proves her boundless cowardice time after time. I have never felt such dismay as when she vowed to take the Trials. She has such a long way to go now... may she never earn her Najahome.

The Trials

The Trial of the Red Night
The Trial of the Wise Hunters
The Day of Considered Taking
The Trial of the Forest Fiends
The Trial of the Shallowest Seas
The Trial of Teti and Toll

Things I do which aren't really significant

Combat:
My fists are the wind. My arrows always miss their mark.

Magic:
For one who has received so little training in the arcane arts, I am very proficient. 'ware, or my fireballs will get you!

Social:
I have all the social skills. I am always honest.

How to Encounter Vaia

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See? It doesn't all have to be so complicated! These are a few (honest) hooks to help encounter Vaia. If you're mad enough to desire such a thing

  • This one's easy, Vaia's a student! Meet her in class.

  • Vaia hunts. Have fun deciding who shot first.

  • You have food? Vaia likes food!

  • Punch a chocobo. Go on. I dare you.

  • Get confused. I know, it sounds tricky.

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Not a subscriber to Best Bun Biweekly and wondering why you received this brochure? The problem will be your Perfectly Ordinary Courier

How to Encounter Vaia (continued)

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Lets see, what else?

  • New player! (kind of)

  • EU player (Available roughly 8pm to midnight GMT)

  • Normally on Balmung, but this here's a Mateus Bun

  • Proud Lunar Rose Loony!

  • RP style: light hearted, heavy roleplay (I take my silliness seriously!).

  • Discord is: Niyika#2276

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Not a subscriber to Best Bun Biweekly and wondering why you received this brochure? The problem will be your Perfectly Ordinary Courier

These aren't drawn by me!

None of these are pictures

Boko the Wanderer and the Thousand Worlds
(and just one more)

In the beginning there was only yellow. There was not truth or lies, or rules or even time! No happy or sad, no good or bad. No light or dark. So really, there wasn't even yellow, because even yellow can't be seen in the darkest night. But there was Boko.

Don't ask how there was Boko, because Boko is a Wanderer, and is always getting places she probably shouldn't. But this place was far too dark for Boko. Now, Boko was a very clever Forest Friend, and knew how to make fire. She plucked off the tuftiest of her feathers, and put beak to claw, and created Light.

It was too bright! So Boko reached under her wings, and collected all the shadows, but they wouldn't stay still. So she created some rocks to trap them under, but the Light was everywhere and the shadows were dying. And this was a time when shadows were not to be feared, because there were not yet monsters to hide in shadowy caves (or even the caves themselves).

So Boko swallowed up the Light, every last drop, and in its place, she laid a single Star. It was a dull little thing, its Light was almost brown. You or I might have swallowed it up and tried again, but Boko had been many places. She knew even the weakest of things are important to someone. So she left the rocks to keep the little Star company, and gave it some peace, so it may grow strong. Off she Wandered.

Every night, Boko laid a Star to keep her warm and for some company (and to let her see her gysahl greens!). And every night those stars were just a little better. A bit brighter, a bit warmer, a bit yellower. Soon her stars were so bright they filled every corner of the sky. Wait, that wasn't right, was it? How can there be a sky, if there isn't a ground?

So Boko made a rock once more. This one was big, and round like an egg, and it kept bumping into the Star. Oops. Boko left that rock quickly. Don't let the rocks bump into the Stars, she thought.

Soon her rocks were beautiful things. She made fountains of sapphires, mountains of gold, and best of all, she invented the Topaz, when she realised there weren't any gems around which reflected her just right. But everything was so... still.

On the next rock she made a sea, a great, big lake, bigger than the Forest, as big as a world. It was a bit too much water, really, so the next world she split between water and land.

You are probably wondering now, but Teti, isn't she getting hungry? Well, Boko was clever, and always kept some gysahl greens, but even Boko can only carry so many sacks of gysahl greens. She planted the last of her greens on the next world, and waited for them to grow.

Oops. Boko didn't mean for them to grow that tall! She almost Wandered off and left behind the first green World, but then she thought, surely someone would like those tall, tall greens? They would call them trees, and live amongst them. So she collected the Seeds, and every world she made from then on would get a Seed. This was the first of the Thousand Stars.

Now Boko knew what made a World. It was not diamonds or water or hills or rocks, or sand or even their names. It was life. Each Seed was just a little different, and with them she made big plants and little flowers, ferns and vines. She even made Cactaurs, but they always seemed to wander off. Each World was better than the last, which is amazing if you think about it, because even the first of the Thousand Stars was very nearly perfect.

Nearly perfect. It's alright to be nearly perfect, I'm sure you are, but is there anything wrong with wanting perfectly perfect? All the plants grew so well, they grew so big, that they started to argue with each other. On one World, the mushrooms grew as big as trees, and needed to be told off because they were stealing the Light from the flowers. Boko had to do something. She scratched at her chin until the softest down fluttered free, a floating piece of fluff on the wind.

Something fluffy would help! Boko created Rabbits, who nibbled the Mushrooms until they behaved, and to reward them, Boko created carrots. It wasn't long before she invented wolves, on a World where a Rabbit King arose, and kept all the carrots for himself, and never even thought to share them. Remember this, next time you want that Carrot Cake all to yourself. Even Boko the Wanderer doesn’t like greedy buns!

The Thousandth World was perfect. All the trees and plants and animals and fish and gems that you and I know so well lived in perfect harmony (that means happy togetherness), and everything wonderful was there. And Boko decided to build her house here. She fished and swam and flew and ate, but one day, she noticed she just couldn't feel happy. Was it because she had stopped Wandering? Or was it because she had made a paradise just for herself? It was a bit of both.

So Boko used all her knowledge and all her skill, and used all the energy she had saved up on the Thousandth World, and made just one more. Just one. It was very like the Thousandth, very like the others of the Thousand too, if you think about it, because they were all very nearly perfect. There was only one big difference, can you guess what it is? Or perhaps I should ask, who it is?

This World’s Star was beautiful. Boko had lots of practice, after all! But if Boko was going to have to wait for her friends to grow up, she wondered if she could make the Star her friend. She could! She named it The Sun and taught her everything she knew. Soon enough, she was bigger and wiser than all the rest, a Star so kind and beautiful that the flowers would lift their heads and smile at when she visited, who would scold the snows for being too deep. One day, she would even share her wisdom with us, by Wandering like Boko for a little while (not far, don’t worry, she just walks around our World, and comes right back in the morning), so we would know to close our books and go to sleep.

Sometimes Boko visits her other Worlds. She even returns to that very first Star (who is now shining quite brightly, you know). But she always comes home to the Very Last One.

The Ambitious Botanist

When first I heard of a tribe so shameful, so unscrupulous, so... so vile that Vile is in fact the name they give themselves, I spotted opportunity. These lands of theirs they guard so closely, might they not have flora unique to them? Might not this be the reason for their oddness?

I knew the moment I stepped into Vile lands. It wasn't an assault by their ruthless wardens, nor boundary markers amidst the trees, nor anything a simple Viera could discern, but one second I was astride Sisyphus, my pack chocobo and once steadfast companion, and the next I saw him from the grass (cortaderia selloana, now much flattened) as he ran off into the forest without me, and with my belongings. Stripped of much besides my trusty axe, a lesser botanist may have fled home, but I had a friend to recover, and plants to discover! I set off after Sisyphus.

It is an alarming experience, being in the lands of such deceitful people. I recall their visitations once, a great parade of the Vile clad in yellow feathers and white fabrics, carrying a great many goods as they passed through our village. "It is the Day of Considered Taking!" I heard one young Rava blurt out, to hushed whispers from her companions. I kept a tight grasp on my seed satchel after that, and a close eye on them. On the edge of our village they set up their stalls and started... baking. Soon delicious scents wafted through our twitching noses, and even I felt the allure of fresh food, no matter its source.

When I arrived at their encampment, one was in fierce negotiations with a Camoa child who had apparently broken a whole bag of biscuits. "You have ruined them, they are worthless now! Go, go and discard these in the depths of the forest where none see what you have done of our beautiful work!" It was harsh words to a young Viera. I was quietly delighted to see instead of obeying the crass outsider, she set her back to the nearest tree, just out of sight, and started to eat those broken biscuits. A broken biscuit is like an overripe berry, just as delicious, once you get by its appearance. When they left our town the next day, I swear those clumsy oafs left behind a whole cart's full of their trading goods, with nary a gil to say for it. Foolish Vile.

But on their own lands, surely their brutal natures would come to the fore. It is hard to trick one of their yellow fletched feathers from the sky, or turn aside their massive war chocobos as its pair of riders prepare to skewer me with spear or bludgeon with shield. It was mere fortune, I thought, to wander the Vile lands without sight or scent of its people, though each time I raced off at the familiar "wark wark" of Sisyphus, only to discover one or many wild chocobos instead, friendly enough but leading me further and further astray. Soon, I could not have found my way out of their lands. A day, then two later and I was approaching desperation, fearful to eat any local berries or light a fire or dig up any edible roots in these foreign lands. I felt eyes on me, you see, and such people might be so unscrupulous to consider even the unclaimed bounties of the forest as their own, and who knows what is their punishment for theft.

Just when I was beginning to despair, I heard the mighty clamouring of wings, so many chocobo that I knew these could not be mere wild birds, else they would often darken the skies with mighty murmurations like starling flocks. And I was right. Through the trees I spotted an unforgettable sight. The stump of the largest tree (Lepidobalanus Giganteum) you will ever see, a clifflike edifice reaching for the heavens, with a great flock of chocobos fluttering out from between cracks in the extant trunk, and through a split in the wood broader than a some of the rivers I crossed to come all this way, I saw another world.

First, I spotted the canopy of another great tree, the same variety as that of the larger, stricken stump, that stood in the middle of a city that encircled it entirely. Then I saw multicoloured banners (mostly yellow), flags, balloons and countless Viera bustling past on many levels and swaying rope bridges. Perhaps they were preparing for war, though it looked a pretty place, and how I wish I could have gotten close enough to see closely their tiers of hanging gardens within the wooden walls of their fortress! But alas, then I heard a voice.

"It is a tiny village, I know. Just one of many of the Vile. Your own tribe has told us of your shame, and how you have been discarded, a vile stain on your society." She was clearly a soldier, in bronze, feather patterned armour, a shield slung on her shoulder but none of those vicious spears in sight. Perhaps I had caught her off-guard, as her terrible lies caught me!

"I'll have you know I am a proud Camoa, as if you would know the meaning of pride. I came to your forest looking for restorative herbs, and instead all I find is insults, and a forest so tangled by lack of care even the Camoa's foremost botanist cannot navigate it! Now leave me be, I have to think how I will find my way home." Perhaps it would have been wiser to plead for help or ingratiate myself with her, but who knows how that would end among the Vile?

"Stay here, for our archers need target practice. And do not follow the river!" the Vile snarled, baring her big, sharp teeth. Could they be cannibals even? A horrible thought! But the Vile are not as clever as they think. Quick as a flash I set off, following the river she warned me against! I knew my maps, maybe it would lead me all the way to more friendly territory, Atoel or even Eryut! But I was so weak from hunger, and soon I heard them at my heels, and in the trees, the flutter of armoured birds overhead. And then up ahead, blocking my path, pushing me away from the river.

What fortune, what coincidence, that I should stumble upon Sisyphus in a clearing, a tiny Vile child busy stealing from his saddlebags, bags sliced clean off his back by a vicious, vile little blade. "Oh! I wasn't expecting to see anybody!" she exclaimed, and scurried off to a safe distance. She was dressed in rags, curious rags, that looked more cut and sliced than ruined by wear and tear. A ritual of these awful people, perhaps, to outcast even a small child.

"I won't hurt you, but this is my chocobo," I said, trying to calm my tone, trying to ignore the angry horde of Vile creatures that until but a few minutes before had been hot on my heels. It seems even the Vile did not know their lands, because they had promptly disappeared. "There are dried berries in that pack. We'll share them." And we did.

I asked of her what her name was, to which she replied simply, "Call me Vile," so I surmise from this that her people do not even grant names to one another. Truly barbaric. But whatever happens to make the Vile so hostile must strike when they are older, because this young one was skittish, but gentle, and took no more than a fair share of my food, and little else besides. Yet still, I ensured she walked away with a few warm blankets and a change of clothes instead of those awful rags. And then off I rode on Sisyphus, though he was a different bird from then on, and never again would carry my things, nor wear a saddle, but a fiercer protector you have never met.

And though you may think my journey a complete and total failure, when I left that clearing I found seeds in my pocket unfamiliar to me, where they come from I have no idea. I planted them of course, and Sisyphus has never been so pleased to eat gysahl greens as those which grew from some of those seeds, while the aloe that grew from others I came to learn would sooth even the worst burns, and wounds salved with an ointment made from it would close more swiftly than expected. Sometimes, even the most Ambitious Botanist must rely on the winds of fate to guide her.