High above the Twelveswood, the raven circles, evermore seeking out truth hidden amongst the shadows of the trees. In today’s edition, field correspondent Oliver Goodfellow delves into the bizarre rumors that have surfaced in Gridania concerning the appearance of a moogle king of myth.
The Legend of Good King Moggle Mog XII That the moogles are our friends and allies is a fact all Gridanian younglings are raised to know. The relationship, however, has not always been one of amity. It was in the age of Gelmorra, back when the elementals did not suffer our presence in the Twelveswood, that the first contact between man and moogle took place. In the beginning, the moogles saw our ancestors as naught but an odious plague, whose existence served only to wake the elementals’ wrath.
But through great effort, our forbears eventually succeeded in communing with the elementals, and were permitted to abide in the Twelveswood. And with the elementals’ acceptance came the moogles’ grudging respect—a respect which grew into understanding and, over time, friendship. The moogles have since stood staunchly by our side, helping us to further our intimacy with the forest and its mysteries. Without their wisdom and guidance, I daresay Gridania would not have flourished into the great nation it is today.
But how well do we truly know the moogles? For the most part, our winged friends keep to the depths of the Twelveswood, seldom appearing in the city proper. Fellow residents of the forest we may be, but there the similarities come to an abrupt end; from physical appearance to culture and fundamental values, there is precious little we have in common with the moogles. For one, they possess their own unique mythology, separate from that of man.
Of the innumerable tales passed down through their race, there is one which claims prominence above all others: the legend of Good King Moggle Mog XII, which explains the origins of mooglekind. The legend holds that, in a time long forgotten, the moogles dwelled in the heavens alongside the Twelve. However, a great war broke out among the gods, and the celestial realm was laid to waste. Upon seeing this, the reigning moogle monarch, Good King Moggle Mog XII, lowered his subjects down a rope—the longest ever woven—to the realm of mortals, that mooglekind might again know peace. Or so the tale goes.
In contrast, our own histories mention naught of any such conflict among the Twelve, and scholars were unanimous in branding the tale a product of the imagination. Of late, however, events have transpired that serve to cast doubt on that conclusion. Recent moons have seen first-person accounts of encounters with Good King Moggle Mog XII being reported nigh without cease, and even the most orthodox of thinkers have been forced to reconsider their opinions on the matter.
By now, all Gridanians—and most adventurers—will doubtless be familiar with Louisoix, head of the Circle of Knowing, who has journeyed to our nation for no other purpose than to quell the mounting primal threat. The native of Sharlayan has identified the moogle monarch as a primal, whose voracious appetite for aetheric energy could end life as we know it upon Eorzea. Coming from such an authoritative figure as Louisoix, these tidings are grim indeed.
With fears of the Seventh Umbral Era still running rife, the air of tension enshrouding the nation grows ever more palpable. But come what may, you may rest assured in the knowledge that naught takes place that escapes the notice of The Raven.
Oliver Goodfellow
The Legend of Good King Moggle Mog XII That the moogles are our friends and allies is a fact all Gridanian younglings are raised to know. The relationship, however, has not always been one of amity. It was in the age of Gelmorra, back when the elementals did not suffer our presence in the Twelveswood, that the first contact between man and moogle took place. In the beginning, the moogles saw our ancestors as naught but an odious plague, whose existence served only to wake the elementals’ wrath.
But through great effort, our forbears eventually succeeded in communing with the elementals, and were permitted to abide in the Twelveswood. And with the elementals’ acceptance came the moogles’ grudging respect—a respect which grew into understanding and, over time, friendship. The moogles have since stood staunchly by our side, helping us to further our intimacy with the forest and its mysteries. Without their wisdom and guidance, I daresay Gridania would not have flourished into the great nation it is today.
But how well do we truly know the moogles? For the most part, our winged friends keep to the depths of the Twelveswood, seldom appearing in the city proper. Fellow residents of the forest we may be, but there the similarities come to an abrupt end; from physical appearance to culture and fundamental values, there is precious little we have in common with the moogles. For one, they possess their own unique mythology, separate from that of man.
Of the innumerable tales passed down through their race, there is one which claims prominence above all others: the legend of Good King Moggle Mog XII, which explains the origins of mooglekind. The legend holds that, in a time long forgotten, the moogles dwelled in the heavens alongside the Twelve. However, a great war broke out among the gods, and the celestial realm was laid to waste. Upon seeing this, the reigning moogle monarch, Good King Moggle Mog XII, lowered his subjects down a rope—the longest ever woven—to the realm of mortals, that mooglekind might again know peace. Or so the tale goes.
In contrast, our own histories mention naught of any such conflict among the Twelve, and scholars were unanimous in branding the tale a product of the imagination. Of late, however, events have transpired that serve to cast doubt on that conclusion. Recent moons have seen first-person accounts of encounters with Good King Moggle Mog XII being reported nigh without cease, and even the most orthodox of thinkers have been forced to reconsider their opinions on the matter.
By now, all Gridanians—and most adventurers—will doubtless be familiar with Louisoix, head of the Circle of Knowing, who has journeyed to our nation for no other purpose than to quell the mounting primal threat. The native of Sharlayan has identified the moogle monarch as a primal, whose voracious appetite for aetheric energy could end life as we know it upon Eorzea. Coming from such an authoritative figure as Louisoix, these tidings are grim indeed.
With fears of the Seventh Umbral Era still running rife, the air of tension enshrouding the nation grows ever more palpable. But come what may, you may rest assured in the knowledge that naught takes place that escapes the notice of The Raven.
Oliver Goodfellow