Well-traveled Merchant: Well, I’ve heard nothing of the sort. Perhaps all this brine has started to pickle your brain.

Anxious Adventurer: You hear somethin’? ‘Cause I hear somethin’. Somethin’s goin’ on up top. An’ that somethin’ ain’t quite right…

Anxious Adventurer: I’d go up an’ see myself, but I don’t want my adventurin’ days endin’ before they start! Why don’t you see what’s afoot?

Austere Adventurer: They say the seas around Limsa Lominsa are guarded over by a goddess called the Navigator. If her temper’s as bad as this accursed storm, I’d say we’re all doomed.

Astute Merchant: You say you heard singing? Well, maybe it was ol’ Llymlaen laughin’ at us mortals seeking to trespass in her fair demesne. Or maybe it were them silky-voiced sirens the people back in Limsa are a-fearin’. Guess some places just ain’t meant for an honest man.

Grinning Adventurer: I heard Limsa Lominsa’s a filthy cesspool overridden with pirates and pillagers, wenches and wastrels… Heh heh, sounds like my kind of town!

Prattling Adventurer: Then it is set! Once we arrive in Limsa, we shall make our way to the Adventurers’ Guild and find us a noble quest! (One that will make us rich, of course! Ahahahah!)

Prattling Adventurer: Hm? You say you’d like to join us? I don’t know… You don’t look like the adventuring type…

Undignified Adventurer: Hmph. From that blank look in your eyes, I would guess you are not too well-traveled. Best scuttle over to that corner you were cowering in and go back to sleep.

Voluptuous Vixen: Unable to sleep, friend? How about a drink to calm your nerves?

Lanky Traveler: Have you decided what endeavors you will undertake once you’ve arrived in Limsa Lominsa? That is, unless you’re on a sort of spiritual journey to become one with your inner self…in which case, I assume you won’t be doing much of anything.

Lanky Traveler: Remember, only you can give your life any meaning.

Cultivated Tender: These seemingly endless sea voyages can truly drain a man’s soul of its vim and vigor. Might I offer you a drink to enliven your spirits?

Indifferent Passerby: I knew I should have taken a private room… One more bell amongst this rabble, and the smell alone will do for me.

Indifferent Passerby: *sniff* It’s heartening to know at least one of you practices proper hygiene.

Undignified Adventurer: Hah hah! My arrival in Limsa Lominsa marks the beginning of a new legend! Call forth the bards, for my adventures will inspire epic tales that shall be sung in the halls of kings and queens across the realm. You, my good lady, are a witness to history!

Well-traveled Merchant: Last night…I believe we were witness to something well beyond our comprehension, and I believe it is best to leave it at that.

Well-traveled Merchant: As a merchant, it is never wise to ponder over that which can not earn one a profit.

Muscle-bound Deckhand: ‘Tweren’t all smiles ‘n’ handshakes when they first let you adventurers into the city. Lot o’ me mates lost their jobs, and I reckon it won’t be long afore I meet the same fate…
Pearly-toothed Porter: We’re sailors. A little wind or rain won’t keep us from findin’ our way to port. Bloodthirsty aurelias on the other hand…well, those we could do without.

Hob: Some say a man o’ th’ sea ain’t truly become a man ’til ‘e ‘as a ship t’ call ‘is own.

Hob: But I says it ain’t th’ ship what makes th’ man―it be th’ man what makes th’ ship. Same goes fer ye adventurers an’ yer weapons o’ choice.

Lanky Traveler: Ah, and our adventure on the seas comes to a close, only to make way for a new one upon the shores of this quaint island.

Lanky Traveler: Perhaps our paths will cross again…and if you are planning on a visit to the Adventurers’ Guild, then perhaps they will cross sooner than we think.

Lorhzant: All ferry routes had been closed until the Knights of the Barracuda were successful in neutralizing the Sahagin threat. However, an official announcement was recently made deeming it safe for the lines to be reopened.

Gert: After the Sahagin sunk the last ferry, sending her passengers and crew to the bottom of the abyss, the Admiral ordered that each line be closed until the Knights of the Barracuda could guarantee the safety of the seas. Now that they have guaranteed us that safety, the ferry lines are open once again.

Voluptuous Vixen: Is there anyone more reliable than a man of the sea? Perhaps I should have stayed on the ship rather than disembarking into this den of wolves.

Pasty-faced Adventurer: I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage a trip all the way back to the mainland. I’m feeling sick just watching the ships bob up and down…

Muscle-bound Deckhand: Ye say ye saw a powerful sorceress weavin’ her magicks ’round the ship, and that it’s her what saved us from the serpent’s minions? I ain’t believin’ what I ain’t seen with me own two eyes, and I ain’t seen no magickal wench, nor no serpent’s minions.

Muscle-bound Deckhand: But that storm we had─that be true enough. ‘Tweren’t fer our fearless Cap’n Hob, we’d all be rottin’ at th’ bottom o’ Rhotano’s belly! Don’t ye go forgettin’ that now, eh?

Lorhzant: Step back, madam. All passengers must be inspected prior to being granted entry into the city. Quietly wait your turn or I will be forced to call the Yellowjackets.

Gert: First time in Limsa? Then take this bit of counsel―keep your head down and your blade handy. Talk with Captain Hob if you’re looking for a decent place to spend the night.

Hob: Welcome t’ Limsa, younglin’. If ye’re lookin’ for an apology for the rough ride, ye won’t find one from me or any o’ me crew. Ye’re here in one piece, and that’s more than ye were guaranteed when ye boarded me ship.

Hob: I lost more’n a few good lads to that infernal storm, yet here ye be without so much as a scratch. I’d say ye’ve someone watchin’ over ye…and that ain’t no bad thing, ’specially if ye’re thinkin’ o’ seekin’ adventure out in the wilds.

Hob: I’m bound for the Mizzenmast, where me fill of ale and a soft bed await. Ye can follow me so far if ye please.

Hob: Then away we go!

Baderon: Why, look what the tide’s carried in today, mates! Another fearless adventurer, newly come to this forsaken land to save us from our woes. The name’s Baderon, and this most ‘ospitable of ‘ostelries is the Drowning Wench.

Baderon: Now, I ain’t got nothin’ against yer type, but I feel it’s me civic duty to tell ye: Eorzea’s no place for the light of ‘eart. What with slaverin’ beastmen and power-’ungry imperials, I reckon ye’d be well-advised to scamper off to whatever boat ye came in on, and ride ‘er all the way back to yer mammy’s teat.

Baderon: What’s this now? The lass says she’s seen a mighty sea beast? Hmph. Ye ain’t the first drylander to come in ‘ere spoutin’ such bilge, and nor will ye be the last…

Baderon: Why, look what else the tide’s carried in today, mates! And if this one ain’t a pretty flower all decked in fancies.

Baderon: Come to the Drowning Wench to play adventurers with me and me boys, eh?

Y’shtola: Boys? Why, perhaps I am in the wrong establishment. I heard I would find men here.

Y’shtola: Men that could provide me with information on a certain “treasure” I’ve heard whispers of.
Baderon: Oooh, a feisty one. Aye, I could tell ye all about the ‘idden treasure, as could any o’ these scrags. Not a soul in Limsa what wouldn’t want to get ‘is ‘ands on that there bounty.

Baderon: But ‘ere’s the rub: ’tis rumored to be buried on a tiny island by the name o’ Seal Rock, and ain’t nobody but them grunts what call ‘emselves Knights o’ the Barracuda or them scholarlies o’er at Mealvaan’s Gate allowed within fifty malms o’ the place.

Y’shtola: In other words: not one of your “boys” has the stones to find a way past those obstacles and onto that rock. What a peaceful little town this is.

Baderon: Peaceful? This cesspool ain’t nothin’ but a boil on Eorzea’s arse, and it be festerin’ with more scum than ye’ll find in me pub’s privy. ‘Case ye didn’t notice, lass, the town’s crawlin’ with pirates, an’ I don’t mean the kind with parrots an’ eyepatches. I mean the kind that like makin’ what’s yours theirs, and don’t mind cuttin’ a few throats while they’re about it.

Baderon: There’s a war goin’ on ‘twixt rival factions: Rhoswen and ‘er Sanguine Sirens against Carvallain and ‘is Kraken’s Arms…with each an’ every one of ‘em lookin’ to dispose of Limsa’s new Admiral an’ take the spot for ‘emselves. Problem is, they’re too busy rippin’ out each other’s gizzards to get ’round to doin’ the chief ‘imself.

Baderon: And we can’t forget about them fishbacks now, can we? The Sahagin been breathin’ down Limsa’s neck for nigh on five years…and there ain’t no signs of ‘em lettin’ up.
Y’shtola: What of the Empire?

Baderon: Why, they’re just sittin’ up there in Garlemald, waitin’ for this city to burn so they can fly down ‘ere in their aero-ships and sweep up the embers.

Y’shtola: Surely the Garleans would not declare war on an independent Eorzean commonwealth?

Baderon: Thal’s balls, lass! The imperials declare what they like, and “re-educate” them what think different. Any sprat on the spit knows that. Ye ain’t from ’round these parts, are ye?

Y’shtola: You could say that. But I plan on staying, so do not think this the last you will see of me.

Y’shtola: Unless you have information on the Empire, you may take your pleasantries elsewhere.

Baderon: Now wait… Where was I? Ah, right. Young fledglin’ like you want to make a name for yerself in this piss-’ole, take me advice:

Baderon: Find yerself a guild and get to work. Ye be less than naught in this world if ye ain’t got gelt. And by the looks of yer purse, naught’d be a step up for ye…poor sod.

Baderon: Let me see…

Baderon: ‘Old on a second, what’s that there ye got in yer bag? Ye may be in luck, after all.

Baderon: Ye say ye found a fish floppin’ about yer boat when that storm ‘it? Well, at least ye ‘ad ‘alf the sense to stick it in yer pack there.

Baderon: Hmmm… Maybe it be time ye step out an’ see the world fer what she truly be―a stinkin’ maw lined wi’ razor-sharp teeth ready t’ rip yer arse right out yer trappin’s…an’ I know jus’ th’ place. ‘Cudas call ‘er Camp Bearded Rock.

Baderon: Unfurl yer map, and I’ll point ye rightwise.

Baderon: Camp Bearded Rock. ‘Tain’t more’n a stone’s throw from th’ Zephyr Gate.

Baderon: And before ye go, take this ‘ere linkpearl. No strings attached. If ye find yerself in trouble, just call on me on the aether… Can’t guarantee I’ll answer, though.

Baderon: Now off with ye. I got casks to tap.