Drusilla

Drusilla

Gender

Female ♀

Age

52

Race

Garlean

Job

Reaper

Zone

Lemures Headquarters (6.1, 6.0)

Organization

The Lemures

Relatives

Rullus (grandfather)

Services

Quest NPC

Patch

6.0

Drusilla Varus is a Garlean in Lemures Headquarters.

Quests Started

Quest	Level	Quest Giver	Questline
The Harvest Begins	70	Drusilla	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests
On the Hunt	73	Drusilla	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests
Dark Days	75	Drusilla	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests
Thicker than Blood	78	Drusilla	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests

Quests Involved In

Quest	Level	Quest Giver	Questline
The Killer Instinct	70	Flustered Attendant	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests
The Killing Art	80	Hermin	Disciple of War Job Quests ┗ Reaper Quests

Lore

"If you've any concern for the sanctity of your soul, then take your virtue and piss off!"

Born in a remote village to the Garlean clan that protected the reaper tradition for generations, Drusilla made her own pact with an avatar at a young age. Some twenty years ago, the voidsent Orcus seized control of her grandsire's flesh and murdered her husband, child, and every remaining member of her clan. Though she was powerless to stop the monster-a regret that haunts the fifty-two-year-old even now-she survived the encounter by some vicissitude of fate that saw her avatar's soul consumed in place of hers. Her grandsire having been branded a traitor to the Empire, however, she was forced to flee Garlemald, and wandered for many years before settling in Eorzea. There she found a band of Garlean exiles in need of succor, with whom she forged a new family—the Lemures. Reports indicate that she has no immediate plans to return to Garlemald, though she still prefers Ilsabardian vodka.

— Encyclopaedia Eorzea Volume III, p. 235

Dialogue

Drusilla

It's always a pleasure to see you walk through those doors, Forename. I know it's not very homely in here, but feel free to kick your feet up wheresoever you can.

What will you ask?

How fare the Lemures?

Drusilla

We're doin' as well as can be expected, all things considered. Arnegis left some shoes that're provin' hard to fill, and we've found ourselves with less gil at hand than we're accustomed to.

Hermin is doin' all she can, bless her heart. As much as she claims to hate usin' her head, she's shown a sharp mind for trade, and thanks to her our ceruleum business is gettin' back on track.

Arnegis's wife is makin' do, you'll be glad to hear. She's runnin' her own stall and doin' a fine job at it by all accounts. I just hope that if anyone in the family needs my help, I'll be around to give them what they need.

After progressing in the Endwalker Main Scenario Quests

Drusilla

I've heard tell of what happened in Garlemald. Just because the Empire is gone, it doesn't mean that everyone who's fled its clutches has a burnin' desire to return home. I take it the Lemures will be in Ul'dah for some time yet.

Can you tell me about reapers again?

Drusilla

A lot to take in, ain't it? As we've discussed, reapin' was passed down from my Garlean forebears in Locus Amoenus. A humble people who spent their days farmin', they were driven by invaders to an inhospitable waste...where they turned their tools to weapons.

But it ain't our scythes that people speak of in hushed whispers─it's our avatars. Through them do we receive a small measure of a voidsent's fathomless power, givin' us abilities that'd make even the most learned mages green with envy.

Of course, not everyone is able to bind themselves to the void, even if they're willin'. It takes a certain kind of person─a certain kind of soul─to resonate so deeply with a voidsent. One that thrives in the darkness as well as it flourishes in the light.

That's what I was referrin' to when I said you had the “killer instinct.” It's a rare sort of connection to the Thirteenth─much to Hermin's displeasure. For days she sat in front of one of those crystals, but heard not so much as a murmur from the other side. She was crestfallen, as you can imagine.

Those Garleans who are fortunate─although some might argue on that point─enough to be courted by the void are given gifts that nature has denied them. They're able to drink their fill of the world's aether, and much more besides.

For centuries my forebears were tied to the void, and we used the strength it gave us to defend hearth and home.

When invaders would threaten our borders, we'd be the ones to cut down their leaders. Under the cover of night we would strike, just another shadow cast by the embers of dyin' campfires. When the sun rose, only the dead would serve as trace of our presence.

Our enemies feared us, though they knew not what we were. Until the reign of Emperor Solus, that is. Now, when people think of the Empire, they think of magitek─that inexorable wave of hulkin' metal which few can withstand.

Gallery

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