The Sound of Silence


Name: BSM/ARM3 - The Sound of Silence
How to begin: talk to Bodenolf in Naldiq&Vymelli's in Limsa Lominsa
Areas: Limsa Lominsa, Hope's Bourn

Last quest: Song of the Sirens
Next quest: -

Requirements to sign up: BSM36 or ARM36, Song of the Sirens complete
Required items: Sound-proofing rubber, Bronze earplug mold, Bronze Ingot x2, Brass earplugs, Island coconut, Charred red newt, Bent glasses
Reward: ?


Coming soon


Coming soon



Bickering Guildmates

Bodenolf: <Player>! We's more siren work for ye. If ye be interested, come t' th' forges. But come quick, afore things get out o' hand.

Bodenolf: City saw rumors o' th' sirens die down fer a spell, but now th' 'Cudas be fixin' t' send a ship out t' find th' serenadin' strumpets an' riddle 'em wi' lead.
Long as they go 'quipped wi' them cannons we forged 'em, I rate they'll knock th' wind out th' vocalizin' vixens afore their melodies start messin' with th' men's minds.
But ol' Mimidoa don't reckon on it bein' so simple - an' he ain't often wrong. Add to that, this whole mess has got th' smitties an' armorers proper clawin' at each other's throats…er, more'n usual.
(quest accept)
Bodenolf: Sharp 'venturer like yerself more' n like sussed out that ol' Mimidoa lost th' workin's in his right ear durin' the last purge o' th' sirens. That bein' so, when he says he's got a 'feelin'' about the 'cudas' plans, I reckon it best we lends him our right ears, if ye catch me drift.

Bodenolf: Since we got a windwheel on most o' Limsa's ships, reports o' sinkin's have fallen faster'n a whore's undies - which would be all plums an' kisses, if the makin' o' said contraptions hadn't left the guild in such a sorry state. T' cut a long story short, blood be boilin' hotter than a midsummer noon's forge.
But ye not need worry yerself o'er such matters. Smoothin' things out 'twixt th' smitties an' wrights be my job - 'tain't no concern o' yers if the task be hardern' climbin' Widow Cliffs wi' me teeth…thrice a bleedin' bell! Anyroad, while I gets on wi' doin' that, speak t' Mimidoa an' partake in a sprinklin' o' his knowledge. The dusty ol' bugger's been up there musin' fer th' past few days.
Oh, and' tell him Bodenolf says as we shold take th' 'Cudas' coin an' make 'em all the bloody cannons they want. That way, when anyone asks, we can say 'twas none other than Naldiq an' Vymelli's what rid the world o' th' sirens!

Qhas Chalahko: There be sparks flyin' in th' forgemasters' alcove, an' they ain't cmin' from the poundin' o' steel. No, th' two've been buttin' their leaden heads th' past fortnight o'er that thrice-damned order from th' 'Cudas. Since lavishin' all our supplies on the makin' of their bloody cannons, there ain't been near enough ore left t' shoe a one-legged chocobo, let alone build a ship, an' th' wrights is startin' t' fall behind on orders fer other clients.

Martiallais: A smitty must attack 'is work in th' same manner a marauder attacks a ruttin' plague rat crawled out from 'neath a rock, savvy? So, won't none take offense at ye gettin' a bit zealous wi' that 'ammer o' yers.
Jus' make sure as ye don't go gettin' over-zealous, right? Them tactics may line yer pockets wi' gelt in a city o' gullible sods th' likes o' Gridania or Ul'dah, but all it'll earn ye in this den o' pirates is a rusty dirk in th' gut.

Iofa: The gall of them armorers to complain at a time like this! The title of senior forge master has fallen to a smitty, so it goes without saying that smitty projects'll take precedence over aught the shipwrights have planned. Same thing happened last season when their head was senior, and the same'll happen next season.
Just the way it is. Naught'll come of getting all unsettled.

Syngsmyd: Both smitties and shipwrights are swimming in a sea of pride broader than the Indigo Deep, and there'll be hoarfrost riming the Seventh Gate before either'll swallow enough of it to admit the other is even approaching as good as they are. Be that as it may, neither can they deny that the guild would be less than half what it is if either set was to bugger off.
Sadly, recent decisions by the acting forgemaster have rent a rift between us, and said ever-widening chasm is starting to affect our work. Yet even though there ain't a soul that cannot see the fix we're in, neither side's stepping forward to offer the other aught more than rusty jibes.

Joellaut: Just wait! When ye be out on th' sea, all by yer lonesome, without so much as a speck of ore in yer pocket, ye'll curse yerself fer not having' wits enough t' stock up at Joellaut's when ye had the chance. Don't say I didn't warn ye well!

Colson: Forgemasters left fer th' Coral Tower lookin' t' garner the Admiral's gratitude fer takin' on th' cannon order…an' perhaps a second chest o' gil fer a job well done.
But if ye ask me, they'll have been glad jus' t' put a few malms 'twixt them an' the forges. Can't say as I blames 'em, neither.

Hihine: What to do!? What to do!? There's naught but tension 'twitx the guild's two ever-bickering branches!
Oh, I pray this does not come to anything as malapropos as mud-slinging, or, still more awful, ore-slinging! A deftly chunk could well put out an onlooker's eye!

Sosoze: What to do!? Wat to do!? The once-sporadic squabbling has become inconveniently incessant since our all-important ore supples started to dwindle!
Oh, I pray this does not come to anything as barbaric as brawling. A conscientous craftsman must always take care to keep his hands from harm!

Trinne: Ever wonder why, when ye drop 'em in the sea, a shipwright's steel don't sink like a smitty's iron does?
'Cause Llymlaen ain't no smitty!

Essential Supplies

Mimidoa: T' arms, lad! Tonight we dines on siren!
Heh heh! Word's reached me good ear that them 'Cudas be plannin' a good ol' fashioned purge o' the outlyin' isles. Fixin' t' follow in the steps o' one Mistbeard, they be. Well, we can't go lettin' that happen. Got t' get there afore th' 'Cudas make a right mess o' things, an' a mess they'll make, oh aye. A bleedin' mess an' a half.
I'd sail meself there if I could, but lately me eyes been followin' in th' footsteps o' me ears, if me ears had feet - which they don't, mind. Anyroad, I needs meself a navigator, an' I ain't talkin' th' godly kind. Ain't afeared, now, are ye, lad? Sirens don't have no power o'er a man so long as he cannot hear their sweet, sweet song.
An' that be where ol' Mimidoa can help ye, but only if ye help ol' Mimidoa first. Now, take this piece of sound-proofing rubber an' this recipe fer a bronze earplug mold, an' craft us one good 'n' quick. I'll do th' rest.
(obtain a piece of sound-proofing rubber, recipe for a bronze earplug mold)

Mimidoa: Eh? Waitin' fer th' bronze earplug mold t' craft itself, are ye, lad? Ye have th' recipe, an' the piece of sound-proofing rubber, now get t' work! Oh, an' ye can find two o' them bronze ingots ye need somewhere around th' city - if ye ken where t' look, that is. Heh heh.

(after crafting the bronze earplug mold)
Mimidoa: Fine work. Yes, yes, this'll do. Fine work, indeed.
Eh? Frettin', are ye? Wonderin' whether or not an ol' 'Fell like Mimidoa here can hold his own in a heated battle 'gainst a slitherin' swarm o' swarthy seductresses from th' sea?
Hahaha! Been wonderin' the' same meself! Ain't nobody seen a siren an' come back t' tell th' tale. Nobody but me, that is. Back durin' the first purgin' led by Pirate King Rycharde Mistbeard, I was a cannonboy on th' flagship herself. 'Twas how I came by this bum ear o' mine!
'Course, them cannons more'n like saved me life. See, as me workin'-eared crewmates was all droppin' their blades an' divin' fer th' Deep, I still had a fraction o' me wits.
An' when I returned from th' carnage wi' me cap'n, one ear short, but none the worse fer wear, I swore on th' lives o' me fallen brothers t' spend th' rest o' me days workin' t' see history didn't repeat itself. One o' th' fruits o' said labors be a pair of brass earplugs, which I'll now whip up usin' the bronze earplug mold what ye so kindly crafted fer me.
If Mistbeard wiped all th' sirens off their rock, how'd I go about testin' these here plugs, ye ask? Hah! This be the test, lad! All's ye have t' remember is t' make sure an' shove th' beauties snug-like in yer listeners afore we gets too close t' the saucy buggers' lair. What happens after that, well, we'll just have t' wait an' see what happens after that, won't we?
(you sail on a ship towards a small island with a lighthouse. You and Mimidoa take a boat ashore)
Mimidoa: Eh? What's that? Hear somethin', do ye? I don't hear naught, but then again, I don't never hear much of anythin'. Hie then, lad, hie! Time to put in yer pair of brass earplugs!

Island of Sirens

(Hope's Bourn instance)
Mimidoa: If them sirens be anywhere, then here be the anywhere they'll be - Hope's Bourn! Also known as Hope's Edge an' Hope's End! Safe t' say, there ain't no hope beyond this forsaken rock!
Now, first things first. Afore we go in, pokers swingin', we must needs unfetter th' piteous souls as was lured t' th' island by th' sirens' mellifluous melodies an' now be slaves t' th' sound.

You force the plugs deep into your ears.

Pleading Petticoat: My head…
(give charred red newt)

Squinting Ser: My spectacles… I cannot see without my spectacles…
(give pair of bent glasses)

Murmuring Maiden: I'm all alone!
(bring stentorian shipwright)

Sprawled Starveling: So…
So very…
(give an island coconut)

(night-time. People are partying at the lighthouse. Mimidoa is looking for something, and then approaches the singer girls when the party is over. You follow, but collapse when you reach them)
(Limsa Lominsa, by Naldiq&Vymelli's)
Mimidoa: Finally awake, eh? Was wonderin' when ye'd come wanderin' back t' th' land o' th' livin'. Wonderin', I was.
Eh? An' ye was wonderin' where here was, was ye? Well, there ain't no cause fer worryin', lad. Ye're sittin' safe an' sound in th' guild. Well, ye was sittin', but seein' as how ye're now standin', I reckon 'twouldn't be right t' call yer current state sittin'.
Eh? The sirens? Hah! While ye was out cold, I learned them sultry sturmpets a lesson they won't soon forget! A few firm words, a few hearty swings o' me poker, an' them formerly fatal females came o'er all aquiver.
Twelve willin', this'll keep 'em quiet fer a spell.
(you see the singer girls from before in the background)
Mimidoa: Hehehehe, wish ye'd been wide-eyed n' woken t' see me in action, eh? Well, I don't blame ye! I daresay 'twas quite a sight! Felt like I'd seen but fifteen summers once more, I did!
Though none can deny yer own role in the day's adventures. Ye have me thanks, lad. Have this as a token o' me appreciation.

Hearing Waves

(instance at Naldiq&Vymelli's)
Syngsmyd: Now that business with the sirens is behind us, maybe the smitties and the wrights can get back to working together.
And you can get back to the forge, where you belong. You'll make a fine crafter yet, <Player> - of that there ain't no doubt.

Joellaut: An' our champion's returned from his noble quest! Did ye slay the evil dragon an' rescue the fair maiden from her tower? An' were ye rewarded fer yer just deeds with a purse full o' gold an' pearls? Eh? Ye were!? Then what better place t' spend yer newly won riches than here!?

Colson: Me forgemates seem right chipper these days…
Might be it has somethin' t' do with that moot they called while I was at home tendin' me sprat when he come down with th' Rot.

Hihine: <sigh> Mimidoa will have our sanity!
Now that he's silenced the sirens' song, no shipwright nor smitty will know a moment's calm!

Sosoze: <gulp> Mimidoa will have our heads!
Now that he knows our secret, no smitty nor shipwright will be safe!

Trinne: Pounded some sense into them sirens, I hear. 'Tis a fine thing ye did fer th' city. A fine thing, indeed.
But 'tis an even finer thing ye did fer us armorers. Now, might be as we have enough ore t' start workin' on buildin' ships once more.

(you approach the singer girls. They're talking. Then you Echo)
(at the lighthouse on Hope's Bourn)
Mimidoa: …an' after returnin' from the island o' th' sirens, I slept fer five score an' ten nights. An' when th' haze finally cleared from me head, I couldn't hear bugger all in me right ear…
…but wi' me left, I could now hear things a man ain't never heard. I could hear th' waves o' sound, like one sees th' waves o' th' sea. An' that got me thinkin' - if ye can make sea waves bigger by splashin' an' trashin' about, then there must be a similar wise t' make sound waves bigger.
R'piqoi: And you found it, didn't you?
Mimidoa: Aye, I did! An' I called it th' gramophone! But fer many a year I couldn't bring meself t' tell a soul about this wonderful invention…fer I knew of its danger.
Ye see, in sound lies color, an' th' color o' sound be more colorful than any color ye can see with yer eye. The color it paints can stain a man's heart an' make him forget what's right an' what's not.
Jus' like what happened with that poor adventurer. Poor, poor adevnturer.
While tickled rosy I am that ye 'ppreciate me craftsmanship, I'm afraid I cannot lend ye me gramophone 'till this whole affair blows over. Understand?
(back to the present)
R'piqoi: <sigh> Well Ailissie, you heard him. Do you think that the little man will ever lend us his contraption again?
Ailissie: Of course he will, my dear R'piqoi. Not a man in this city…not a man in the realm can resist the plea of a poor, young 'siren'.
Ceryth: Hahahaha! No matter how big or small!

Category: Quests


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