Than Saga 07: Full Stormblooded Nelson

-Throne Room of Ala Mhigo-

Zenos yae Galvus, the crowned prince of Garlemald sat upon the former throne of Ala Mhigan kings as he watched his war council scramble for ideas to repel the Ala Mhigan resistance now marching their armies with the aid of the Eorzean Alliance. Useless, the whole lot of them he thought. Trained and graduated from their respective classes of the Garlean military academies and yet each and every one of them was naught but a spineless weakling. 

Boredom, there was nothing more to it than that reflected on the face of the Crowned Prince. The ground shook beneath his imperial feet, light tremors could be felt by all who were present before him. Sounds of shockwaves carried in the desert winds, resonated within the halls of ancient Ala Mhigan kings. Incompetent as his subjects maybe, but they've all witnessed these unnatural symptoms before. 

March of an army, the prologue of an upcoming battlefield. 

"Ahahaha...Hahahahaha! Yes, yes! Such desperation! Such tenacity! This is the hunt I desired, the ravenous beasts we thought defeated still had fangs to bare!"

His face lit up into a wide smile. For a brief moment, he had considered the option of starting a coup d'etat if it would mean hunting his own kin was the only sport left for him to hunt. Good, he thought to himself as he sat eager to greet the prey he spared. 

"I feel their uncontrolled rage beating beneath our feet, ferociously marching what remains of their strongest survivors to slaughter or to be slaughtered. To think how disappointed I was when I expected naught resistance yet these blasted lands carry the sounds of their war drums all the way across our halls!" 

None of his officers dared to say a single word, lest they speak out of line and spoil their lord's amusement. Save one individual that stood out from the rest of his officers. 

"Ay? What you say qunt?" 

A voice came from a man who was one-third of the size of a regular Hyur. Heavily armored from head to toe, but he could have easily been mistaken for a young whelp judging from his size and the youthful tone of his voice, had it not been for his large unkempt beard that smelled of tobacco, booze, and gunpowder. A lalafell, they say his people hail primarily from Uldah, a cursed race muttered one officer who found the second in command of the XIIth Legion, intolerable. 

He was a dark-skinned man, his body under the armor was filled with grotesque scars received in his service in the Garlean military, warmongering and brutal was his nature that even Zenos acknowledged the tiny man's abilities as the real talent for war. As a matter of fact, there were only a handful of men on this world who did not cower before him and this outspoken dwarf with a foul mouth was one of them. 

Barbas Tol Barbarius. Some called him Mad Barbas, a veteran who would readily jump through a storm of firebolts and bullets wearing absolutely nothing and wield a butcher's cleaver with such proficiency that he'll emerge bathed in blood and guts with hundred lives claimed. He was a simple man that loved swearing, drinking, whoring, and violence despite being shorter and leaner than most lalafells. 

"Roight yeah nah farkin oath sound like a shitload o fight comin right at us mate. Farq me, ye should pick up the pace you slack qunts!" 

Drums of war so distant that you wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for one's battle instincts.  

Meanwhile...on the sacred palm of Rhalgr's Reach where ancient Monks trained in the mystic art of bodily Aether manipulation and the deadly martial art One Shadow Nine Fist. 

Updated with HEAVY Ala Mhigan Accent. A what-if scenario if Ala Mhigans had a local accent/dialect.