Dear Mr. Digimus
It has been five days since the day my dear mother booted me out of the house and bid me seek an adventurer’s life. Like any Elvaan youth, I naturally sought a Warrior’s path…which I had been told was best fit for me. However, my love for magic and need for better ways to befriend others led me to discover and trail the path of a Red Mage. This caused quite a bit of disproval from my elders, so I sought alliance with the Republic of Bastok…a more open and free kingdom to my knowledge.
However, I have encountered several things that have led me to much frustration in my already challenging life.
One such thing, during my warrior days, was that whenever someone healed me, I would take time to stop and thank them. However, when I changed to a Red Mage’s life, whenever I healed someone only 10% of those adventures took the time to thank me. This made me feel very saddened to see such ungratefulness from my fellow adventurers.
Another problem is that I have had little fun in my beggining days. Starting out, I have nearly no money and all I am strong enough to do is fight killer bees and tunnel worms. My dreams of an airship ride or a gallop through the hills on a chocoba, are alas, long coming. I can handle the wait though, what I find frustrating is when I accept a quest to help a fellow peasant and learn, after dying and being reborn, that I am not at the level to fufill that quest. It would be nice if the people informed you before journeying out, that you should be a little more experienced then you are. But alas, death is the only one nice enough to inform an adventurer such as myself.
“Sir”, “Sir Digimus”. I wasn’t knighted by the Queen of Roshtaria just to be called “Mister”, thankyouverymuch.
To your letter…
Yes, since the dawn of time, when the first proto-yagudo was booted out of its nest, parents have known the freedom, nay, PLEASURE of removing that which leaches away their time and money. Don’t worry, the slight satisfaction they feel now will soon be replaced with emptiness and a lack of purpose. Before you’ve had time to begin your adventuring career, they’ll will be begging you to return home with offers of food and gil. Moreso than they EVER would have offered had you still been living with them. This “empty nest” syndrome will continue, until you see fit to end it. For although the temptation to remain “taken care of” by one’s parents may seem tempting, it also allows them to continue to exercise control over your life, and no one wants to see a grown man being nagged by his mother. You must look the woman straight in the eye and say, “I recognize your bribery as an attempt to trick me into rubbing your bunions for the rest of my adult life, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” That’ll show her.
Welcome to the life of the Red Mage. Be prepared to be forever scolded for your decision to choose such a path as an Elvaan With a long-standing linege of Warriors and Paladins, the Elvaan seem to view themselves as unfit for magically inclined occupations. Those who choose magehood do often find that San d’Oria is not a welcome home. Hence, why I saught refuge in the nation of Windhurst. With its large schools of magic, and cute little Tarutarus, it was hard to pass up. You are indeed right that Bastok, as a nation, is more open to diverse choices, lifestyles, and occupational orientations. Mainly due to the fact that the Humes seem to neither be weak nor strong at any one thing. Many have heard tales of a similar Elvaan city, San f’Ran s’Ko, but in my travels, I have seen no evidence that it actually exists. Oh, and if anyone gives you grief about being an Elvaan Red Mage, just remind of them of Raimenard, that usually seems to shut them up.
Not receiving a thank you for healing in a party is a lot like not getting dessert with your dinner. Although not a necessary part of the meal, it is quite tasty and satisfying to eat. Of course, I was once in a party where the White Mage insisted on constant thanks for heals. To say the least, battles are already filled with the clanging of swords, explosions of powerful magic, and shouted orders from the leaders. Adding the constant “Thank you” or “Thanks” often was distracting and took focus away from the combat. (Which, ironically enough, would often cause the person who had just been healed to be seriously wounded…again.) As a healer, you have the choice, “to heal or not to heal”, and if you refuse to act as a healer if you will not be receiving thanks, that is your perogative. However, you may find that you are suddenly invited to join in fewer parties as word gets around. As rewarding as that verbal gratitude may be, most of us have grown not to expect it in the line of duty. In summary, I wouldn’t get my loin cloth in a bunch over it.
Is this a sign that the great populace of Vana’diel is on the decline in the areas of chivalry and respect?! Yes, of course it is. But that’s why I’m here!
Money, in our world, is indeed a huge stumbling block which we must all overcome. We all started out as the impoverished young adventurer who had to climb the ranks. In short, there is no “easy” way to greatness. Great things come from great effort. The life of an adventurer would not be nearly as fulfilling or rewarding if everything was handed to you on a silver platter. (Although you may be able to sell the platter at the Auction House.) Quests, in themselves, are a test of your mental preparedness to complete them. If someone chooses you to compensate your time with a few gil, don’t look a gift Chocobo in the mouth.
Death is a part of the game of life. You adventure, you win, you lose. In all my journeys, I can safely say that the complaint of death is one that bothers me the most. Why? People should know better. If you enter in a dungeon to complete the quest and a monster stands there that looks incredibly tough, why proceed further alone? Sure, you can try and sneak your way around the hazards, but the possibility of being caught is always there. It is a matter of taking responsibility for one’s actions. You took the risk, and thus, if you are smeared upon the cave walls like jam, have nothing to complain about.
Anyway, I have looked over your letter again, and, in doing so, have realize that you did not actually ask a question. Here, permit me to show you how this difficult nuance is tackled…
Dear Sir Digimus,
Is Sokaku, the Moogle, really a moogle?
I am afraid, my good lad, that is really a question for Sokaku’s wife.
Not a rubber of bunions,
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