An Unexpected Proposal

Sidequest1 Icon.png Lv. 60   An Unexpected Proposal
Quest
An Unexpected Proposal Image.png
Rewardsicon.png Rewards
Gil
Gil Icon.png1,071
Informationicon.png Description
Rowena is planning a trip to Revenant's Toll.
Objectivesicon.png Objectives
Issuing NPC: Rowena: Idyllshire - Rowena's Center for Cultural Promotion (x:5.7, y:5.6)
Type: Side Story Quest
Unlocks: Soul without LifeSidequest1 Icon.png
Requirements
Quest: Mainquest1 Icon.pngHeavensward (Quest)
Lore & Dialogue
Loremonger:An Unexpected Proposal
NPCs Involved: Ardashir

Rowena in Idyllshire - Rowena's Center for Cultural Promotion (x:5.7, y:5.6)
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Ardashir in Azys Lla - Alpha Quadrant - Helix (x:7.5, y:11.6)
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Gerolt in Azys Lla - Alpha Quadrant - Helix (x:7.4, y:11.6)
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Gerolt in North Shroud - Peacegarden - Hyrstmill (x:30.3, y:20.3)
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Sidequest4 Icon.png 
Ardashir in Azys Lla - Alpha Quadrant - Helix (x:7.5, y:11.6)
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  • You happen upon Rowena just as two unexpected visitors arrive. The first is an earnest young researcher bearing an urgent request, the second, Gerolt the ale-sodden blacksmith. Wasting no time, the researcher, one Ardashir, declares that he has been conducting research into the creation of artificial life─something he refers to as “anima.” Though all of his trials have thus far ended in failure, he is convinced that the Sharlayans' work on arcane sentries holds the key to success. Before he can continue with his suit, however, Gerolt decries him for his lack of imagination, and wryly suggests fusing the anima with a weapon─a proposal which Ardashir considers a stroke of genius. Never one to miss a chance to turn a profit, Rowena sets about persuading Gerolt to take part in the venture, and before you know it, you too have been roped in to test the finished product. You are to rendezvous with Ardashir and Gerolt in Azys Lla, where the pair will apparently be working.
  • You find Ardashir in Azys Lla marveling at the technological wonders of the once-great Allagan Empire. Now that you have arrived, he is ready to begin work on the anima weapon.

Good mornin' to you, Forename. Somethin' on your mind? I've been called back to Revenant's Toll to take care of a new shipment o' wares, but if you've matters of money that require my attention─<sigh> Hold that thought. It seems I have visitors. Some more welcome than others...
Pardon the intrusion, Mistress Rowena. I realize I was here only a few days ago, but I really must speak with you about─
Good, yer still here. We need to talk about that promissory note. Now I know what yer thinkin': “That stinkin' sack o' goobbue shite ain't got me godsdamned money!” Well, yer wrong. I saved it up, every last gil. The thing is, me mates took me out for a drink to celebrate, and─
Excuse me, sir, but when people are talking, it is generally considered rude to interrupt. I know not what manner of business you have with Rowena, but I am quite sure it can wait. As I was saying, Mistress Rowena─have you perchance been able to arrange a meeting with your associates? There is much I would ask them about their work on arcane sentries.
Hold on a bleedin' minute! You are tellin' me to wait? Didn't no one ever teach ye to shut yer gob when grown-ups are talkin'? Me life and, more importantly, me note at the tavern's at stake here. Now be a good lad and bugger off till uncle Gerolt's had his say.
Gerolt! Mind your own advice for once and keep quiet. I'll deal with you soon enough. Regardin' your question, Ardashir─the answer's no. The client I had in mind's a bit of a recluse, and stubborn as all hells in her old age. She wouldn't hear of any meetin', and I ain't got time to press her on it at the moment. Too much to do by half.
Sounds like ye've got enough on yer plate without havin' to worry yerself over an old mate's owin's. I tell ye what, let's forget about it for─
I know not what hole you have drunken yourself into, sir, and quite frankly, I do not care. I have important business to discuss with Mistress Rowena, and I demand you leave us be this instant!
Bah, the youth o' today! Jumped-up, self-servin' little shites the lot o' ye! ...Fine! Tell us then, Yer Highness─what's this business o' yers that's more important than a man's life, eh? Well? Out with it!
Very well. If only to explain myself to Rowena. Together with my master, I have been conducting research into the manipulation of spiritual and aetheric energies in what you call the Near East. Our work has shown that the soul is in fact an agglomeration of a specific type of force. This force defines the quiddity of man and makes us who we are. While the soul is indeed inimitable, we believe it possible to create a quasi-soul. Thus we turned our attention to anima─the selfsame force which allows individuals to traverse the Lifestream via aetherytes. By infusing a soulstone with the requisite quantities of aether, this force may be harnessed. Yet after years of research and experimentation, we have naught to show for it but inert husks of stone. We repeated the process again and again, adjusting every element, but the result was always the same. At length, my master declared the project a failure, and turned his thoughts to other matters. But I could not give up! Not after witnessing the beauty of anima. Not after coming so close. And that is why I have journeyed hither to Eorzea. I am certain that with the Sharlayans' knowledge of arcane sentries, I can complete my project. I am also certain that the resultant souls will be worth more to mankind than the ale-soaked dishclout that passes for yours!
Finished, have ye? Well then, allow me to retort. Seems to me yer a cockered little brat as speaks a lot without sayin' aught. Ye talk like a man o' learnin' when 'tis plain yer just a boy what's never had a thought of his own, and couldn't even if he tried─not that ye ever would, o' course. And why? 'Cause the youth of today can't be bothered to do an onze of honest work for 'emselves. No sense o' duty. Things get rough, and ye run fer help, leavin' a trail o' piss in yer wake. D'ye reckon them scholarly folks from Sharlayan asked for the answer whenever they got stuck? Not bloody likely! 'Cause they used their bloody brains! 'Tain't even that hard! If I saw these soul things burnin' out too quick, I'd think about sealin' 'em inside summat strong, like a weapon maybe, to keep all that life from escapin'. It'd cost 'em a bit o' freedom, aye, but it'd keep 'em around for a damn sight longer than you managed. What's more, if the bloody things really are alive like ye say, ye'd end up with a weapon what could think for itself, which could be bloody lethal in the right hands! What do ye say to that, ye preenin' little shite?
An anima weapon!? That...that is absolute genius! A means not only to preserve created anima, but to employ it...
Anima weapons, eh? Aye, that'll sell. Quite an interestin' proposition, Gerolt. One that could be quite lucrative. Why not help poor Ardashir here with his work an' see what you can make of it?
Help that spineless streak o' piss? Yer jokin', ain't ye? Why in the seven hells would I play nursemaid to a watery-eyed brat like him? I was just spoutin' shite! I didn't really mean none of it!
Is that right? Pity. Sounded like somethin' we could've made a good bit o' coin out of. Enough to make me forget your debts, like as not... Your debts that I won't be forgettin' otherwise. Changed your mind? Good. Listen, Ardashir: he may be a drunken bloody fool, but he's also the finest blacksmith in all the realm. If anyone can forge a weapon capable o' holdin' your souls, it's him. And our adventurin' friend here, my dear sweet Forename, is a well-known hero 'round these parts. I'm sure he'd love nothin' more than to try out your new weapon when it's finished─ain't that right? Just think of it: you'd be the first in all of Eorzea to wield one o' these anima weapons─which ain't a bad name now that I come to think of it. “Anima weapon.” Aye, that'll do. Now don't be so hasty, Forename. This here is fate! What else could've brought the three of you to me at the selfsame time, eh? And don't go tellin' me the thought of a weapon that learns and adapts to combat don't interest you, 'cos we both know it does.
Gerolt, was it? Pray forgive me my rudeness earlier. If you truly are the smith she claims, I would be honored to have your assistance. And you, Forename. I gather you are the perfect candidate to test the weapon once it's complete.
Hmph. Well, if this'll get me square with Rowena, then I s'pose me hammer's yours. But don't think I'm gettin' roped into this alone. If I have to forge it, you have to wield it.
Thank you, both of you. I promise you will not regret this.
Nice to see you're all gettin' on. Now, you're goin' to need a place to work, and I know just the spot. Azys Lla, the seat of Allagan science, floatin' on high over Abalathia's Spine. Not that the equipment up there'll be any use to you, mind. Only the Twelve know how that stuff works. Still, it'll keep pryin' eyes away until the weapon's ready. I'll arrange for an airship to take you within the day.
The fabled Azys Lla... I look forward to seeing you there, Forename!
Today has proven to be more productive than I thought. Gerolt's out o' my hair, and soon I'll have new merchandise for the House o' Splendors. Assumin' this ridiculous plan o' his works. I'm countin' on you, Forename.
We come all this way, and we can't even use the godsdamned equipment. D'ye know how heavy this anvil is? Too bloody heavy! Should've given it to his lordship to carry─that would've been good for a laugh.
Aye, I know. I have to go and help that little shite with his godsdamned research. Still think we should've done the work here, but there's no arguin' with Rowena. <sigh> Just let me finish one more kettle.
The fabled Azys Lla. I'd heard stories, but who would believe such a technological marvel could exist, and floating in the sky at that. If only my master could see me now. But this is not the time for gawping. Come, let us begin our work on the anima weapon.
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