Your journey begins with "The Weaponsmith of Legend" quest. This is a one time quest and does not need to be repeated; further weapons will start from A Relic Reborn. For this quest, simply:
Purchase (or craft) the class weapon, then meld it with two specific Grade III Materia. In order to meld, complete the quest Waking the Spirit. Alternatively, Materia Melder NPCs can do the melding for you which requires ~ 1,000 gil per meld.
Bring the Amdapor Glyph back to Rowena; and then bring the book back to Gerolt to continue the quest.
Part 5: Beastmen Hunt
You are finally presented with your new Zodiac Weapon for the first time - through it's still unfinished. Equip your new weapon as your chosen job and defeat 24 specific beastmen in their respective stronghold for your job; then report back to Gerolt.
If doing this unsynced with a high-level character, note that this fight may drag on for a while - due to being unable to attack while in a Granite Gaol, and the damage down debuff it applies.
Jus' let me make one thing clear: it might be as I'm repairin' kettles to pay for yesterday's mead, but I still got me pride as a master weaponsmith. Ye'll get no less than the finest out of me forge.
An' it might be as ye've got that godsdamned slip of paper, but it'll only get ye so much. Restorin' relics like these calls for some rare ol' materials, an' I ain't got none. So if you want the job done, ye'll have to run along an' fetch 'em for me.
Fancy yerself a knight in shinin' armor, eh? Whatever floats yer boat, I s'pose...
Anyroad, it's Curtana ye'll be wantin'. 'Twas the blade wielded by Jhal Tristram the True, one of the three first paladins.
Story goes that, when the first sultan of Ul'dah formed the Sultansworn, he had three swords forged from the same ore used to make Oathkeeper─one for each of his champions.
Curtana was one of the blades, an' it was laid to rest with its master when he kicked the bucket. Rumor has it, though, that Jhal Tristram's tomb was plundered recently, an' Curtana taken.
I'd wager a flagon of mead it was them Amalj'aa what did the deed. Fair makes me blood boil imaginin' some filthy lizardman struttin' about Zahar'ak with such a fine blade.
Fancy yerself a dauntless warrior, like they had in the olden days, eh? So the rumors're true, then─the Company of Heroes did have one in their ranks... Bloody hells.
I'll tell you what, though─we weaponsmiths like a good axe, and them warriors' axes were better than good. Ain't no weapon more fearsome to look at, I reckon.
An' of all the kinds out there, there's none I'd take over Bravura. Aye, from the intimidatin' form to the destructive power, 'tis everythin' a warrior could ever want.
There's jus' one snag: the only blacksmith clan what knew how to forge Bravura died out years ago. The last of 'em didn't quite get 'round to trainin' a successor, see, an' the hapless sod took the techniques to his grave.
Might be some warriors out there bear the axe still, but if I was them, I wouldn't willin'ly part with such a prized possession. Nay, not for all the mead in Eorzea...or would I?
Anyroad, if yer to have any hope of gettin' a Bravura to call yer own, it'd be through the kobolds. The creatures're renowned for their skill at the forge, an' it jus' so happens they also have a penchant for scourin' ancient ruins an' mines for artifacts, precious ores, an' the like.
To find what we need, ye might try venturin' into U'Ghamaro Mines. Mayhap the kobolds have a Bravura stowed away in a repository or summat.
Fancy yerself a dragonslayer, eh? Well, I happen to know jus' the weapon for ye...but wouldn't it be quicker if ye had one of the Holy See's blacksmiths pound one out?
Hm, yer expression tells me there's a reason why ye came to me instead. Well, I ain't one to pry into the affairs of Ishgard. Don't fancy being branded a heretic, see. Also, I don't reckon I'd enjoy the view from the Gates of Judgement half so much if me head was on a pike.
Anyroad, it's a spear named Gae Bolg that ye'll be wantin'.
I've heard tell it's made of dragon bone, but how it's forged is a jealously guarded secret. Bein' the genius that I am, though, I reckon I can unravel the mystery if I could jus' get me hands on a sample.
Now then, did ye ever hear of Saint Reinette, the legendary dragoon? I only ask 'cause she's s'posed to have wielded the very same weapon, see.
Story goes that a dragon slew her sweetheart, promptin' the ol' girl to seek out the beast what did it an' put it down. Havin' exacted her revenge, they say she thrust her spear into the ground where the battle was waged, givin' up the life of a dragoon to become a woman of the cloth.
Unlucky for ye, the valley where the spear sleeps is Ixali territory─a stronghold called Natalan, to be precise. But if yer desire's strong, I trust ye already know what must be done.
Fancy yerself handy with yer fists, eh? Then mayhap ye've heard of the legendary monk Ivon Coeurlfist.
The man was mad about coeurls─proper bleedin' besotted, from what I hear. All sounded a bit...unnatural, if you ask me. Anyroad, he honed his martial prowess by wanderin' the mountains, fightin' all the coeurls he could find. An' by takin' the creatures' movements for his own, he devised a style of fightin' like no other.
But that ain't all. Ivon's, er...love of the felines was such that he had a pair o' Sphairai crafted─fists what looked like coeurls. Legends claim they allowed him to bring the sum of his skills to bear...or maybe cat, on his foes─on account of which, the design grew popular.
But now that tradition's in danger of dyin' out, what with Ala Mhigo's fall to the Empire an' all, leavin' nary a weaponsmith as knows how Sphairai are forged.
If yer to have any hope of gettin' yer mitts on a pair, it'd be from among the Amalj'aa host at Zahar'ak.
The lizardmen are known to round up enemy soldiers for the sake of their twisted amusement. Wouldn't surprise me none if they've claimed a pair o' Sphairai or three from their victims.
Them lizardmen might be savages, but even they ken a fine weapon when they see one.
Fancy yerself a ninja, eh? Well, drown me in wine an' call me a moogle─ye'll be wantin' a pair o' Yoshimitsu, then, won't ye?
That's two tricksy pieces o' steel! I tell ye, only a few in Eorzea have even heard the name. A few more know that old rhyme about the bloke what forged them. Mayhap ye are among them? No? Ah, well, it goes somethin' like this...
There once was a Far Eastern smitty, Well versed in makin' blades pretty. “Far thicker than most,” O' his dagger he'd boast...
And its thrust was well known in the city! Hmmm... Might be the prick in that poem ain't the point o' no blade. Er, anyroad, the man forged fine steel what bears his name. Fact of it is, his daggers have graced the hands o' many a hero an' heir to a high house.
Ye know, Yoshimitsu daggers have been on me mind o' late. Down at the tavern, I heard somethin' about Lominsans raidin' a Garlean ship, an' plunderin' a pair o' blades from her hold. Seems the privateers lost their booty when they ran afoul o' the fishbacks, though.
Now, the whole thing reeks o' grog─an' that oughta mean somethin' comin' from yours truly! But if there's an onze o' truth to the story, then yer daggers'll be somewhere in the Sapsa Spawning Grounds.
A bow-bendin' bard, are ye? That's a rare sight in this day an' age. Well, I happen to know jus' the weapon for ye.
But tell me, have ye ever heard the word “Godsbow”? 'Tis an epithet what's given only to virtuosos of the bow.
The first archer to be called such was one Gilbert, a man who lived durin' Gridania's fledglin' days. Legend goes he slew seven Ixali chieftains with a single arrow.
And if that weren't impressive enough, they say the lucky sod was blessed with the voice of a bleedin' angel to boot. On account of which, he had a bow 'specially crafted to be weapon and instrument both.
This tool of musical murder was called the Artemis Bow, an' for long years it was locked away in one of the fastnesses of the Gods' Quiver for safekeepin'.
Alas, some while ago, said fastness was overrun by the Ixal, who struck from above in their war balloons. They gave the place a thorough ransackin', an' took the relic with 'em back to Natalan.
If ye can but retrieve the Artemis Bow─even a part of it─we'd be well on our way to restorin' yer relic.
What? A relic weapon for...black magic, the arcane art of destruction? Sorry, lad, but that's a new one on me. Hm? What's that ye say?
Uh-huh... So this Ququruka bloke had a rod what looked like a comet, did he?
Well, that could only be a Stardust Rod─assumin' yer admirably vivid description was accurate. A number o' these were made, accordin' to tomes datin' back to the Fifth Astral Era.
Ages ago, there lived a female mage of no small repute who was known by all sorts of unsavory epithets. “Death's Handmaiden” was one, “The Black Witch” was another...an' the proper half-wits called her “She-Devil.” Her name was, er...Shantotto. Or was it Shatoto? Ah, right─Shatotto. Aye, that's the one.
The woman's credited with devisin' countless destructive magicks, an' for a pastime indulged in creatin' enchanted arms, the most famous among 'em bein' the Stardust Rod.
This goes without sayin', but none save their creator knows how they were made. Lucky for us, though, I have an inklin' as to where we might find one of the actual relics. An' once I've got one in me hands, I doubt it'll take me long to unravel its secrets.
Some years ago, a Stardust Rod was put up for sale at a Lominsan auction for plundered goods.
No one knew for sure if it was the genuine article, but it didn't take long for the various bidders to talk 'emselves into thinkin' it was, an' a proper scramble looked to be in the offin'.
Ah, but ye'll never guess what happened: scarcely a bell afore the auction was due to start, kobolds attacked the pirates' storehouse an' plundered all the plunder. Irony at its finest, eh!?
Anyroad, in all likelihood, the rod now rests inside U'Ghamaro Mines, collectin' dust. So that's where ye'll need to take yerself.
Did I hear ye rightly? Yer sayin' that you revived the long-lost Allagan art o' summonin'? Bloody hells, I'd always thought 'twas naught but a myth...
If it's as ye say, the tales I heard growin' up might well have some truth to 'em. In particular, the one about the maiden Wiyu springs to mind. 'Twas the most detailed among 'em, ye see.
She was a right ravishin' lass, this Wiyu, with bright, green eyes an' a fiery spirit to match. Alas, she goes on to meet a premature end.
Accordin' to the tale, she an' her comrades square off against Odin, the Dark Divinity. When the battle takes an ill turn, she sacrifices herself to save her party. Right tragic, I know.
Now, the encounter s'posedly took place in the Sylphlands, over in the East Shroud.
Assumin' there's any truth to the tale, might be as the grimoire used by Wiyu's still lyin' out there somewhere. To be sure, the Allagan Empire's three eras gone, but there ain't no harm in takin' a look, eh?
...Eh? ...A relic weapon for white magic? Never heard of one. Ye sure ye ain't been on the drink? ...Hm? What's that?
Uh-huh... So, this A–Towa–Cant was the keeper of white magic, was he? If it's as ye say, it might be as I know of jus' the thing: the enchanted staff Thyrus.
It's a priceless heirloom what belonged to the Cant clan, one of the foremost families in Gridania. Thing is, it went missin' some decades ago, along with its owner, none other'n A–Towa–Cant.
The bloke was known for bein' a bit of an eccentric among his kind. Whereas most Padjals live out their days in the Black Shroud, he went off in search of elementals in distant lands.
With Thyrus for company, he roamed the realm, lendin' a helpin' hand to the folk he met on his travels. Seems, though, he couldn't do much to help himself out when he set foot in O'Ghomoro─the man was never heard from again, an' neither was his staff.
As fate would have it, A–Towa–Cant was the last of his blood, an' his line guttered out with him. Right tragic, I know, but we can shed tears for him another time.
Gettin' back to the matter at hand, it seems a fair bet that Thyrus is lyin' around somewhere in U'Ghamaro Mines, just out of the poor sod's skeletal grasp, like─gods rest his soul.
Fancy yerself a scholar, eh? Like one o' them as helped the nation o' Nym preserve its sovereignty durin' the War o' the Magi way back when? I know a bit about 'em, as it happens.
They were a right clever lot, those scholars. Thanks to their brilliant strategizin', the Nymians never failed to throw back would-be conquerors no matter how badly they were outnumbered. Like I always say, it ain't the size what matters, but how ye use it.
A-Ahem! Aaanyroad, 'tis a copy o' the Omnilex ye want, a right bleedin' rare grimoire what's supposed to contain all the military tactics ever conceived by man.
Unlucky for ye, though, they don't make 'em like they used to. Which is to say, not anymore. But if yer heart's set on a copy, ye might try rootin' about western La Noscea.
If I remember rightly, the Nymians used to have a port over there, but it's long since become a Sahagin lair─the Sapsa Spawnin' Grounds, 'tis called.
Anyroad, ye'll need to retrieve <relic-specific weapon> one way or another, though how ye go about it makes no odds to me. I fancy ye'll have to pry it from the hands of a dead <relic-specific race>, though.
Well, bugger me... Never in me wildest, drunkest dreams did I imagine ye'd actually find the bloody thing... Bah, so I'll have to fire up the forge, after all.
Havin' said that, the relic's in far worse shape than I thought. It ain't like to survive much poundin' in this state. Truth be told, I'd be worried about sneezin' near it.
<sigh> We're gonna need a new host what'll give itself for the restoration.
Bring me <relic-specific crafted weapon>, one with two grade three <relic-specific materia> materia melded to it. This'll serve as the vessel for the restored relic.
Remember, that's two grade three <relic-specific materia> materia. Aught less, an' ye'll get naught from me, no matter how many slips of paper ye wave in me face.
Ye need to bring me <relic-specific crafted weapon>, one with two grade three <relic=specific materia> materia melded to it. This'll serve as the vessel for the restored relic.
Hm? Aye, I could hammer one out in me sleep, but then I could wipe yer arse without much trouble, an' I ain't plannin' on doin' that neither! Seems ye'll jus' have to do both yerself, eh?
Ah, 'tis a fine base ye've brought me. Aye, jus' the thing to host yer relic.
I've merged what was left of the relic with the host weapon, so the groundwork's done. But don't go jumpin' for joy jus' yet -- there's still more to do.
I need to work on the finishin' touches, but due to the reinforcement work I've had to do, the weapon's provin' rather stubborn to shape.
To get 'round this, we'll be needin' some alumina salts, a substance made by grindin' a rock called alumina into fine grains. Unlucky for ye, though, it ain't easy to get hold of.
Mayhap ye already know this, but there's beasties out there what devour their prey whole. An' some of 'em swallow rocks so as to aid with digestion.
The dhorme chimera what terrorizes the central highlands o' Coerthas happens to swallow alumina salts for this purpose.
Slay the bugger an' bring me the alumina salts, an' I'll see to the finishin' touches on yer weapon.
The dhorme chimera can be confronted via the Duty Finder upon examining the quest destination situated at the Weeping Saint in the Coerthas central highlands.
Please note that the trial “A Relic Reborn: The Chimera” must be completed as a <relic-specific class>.
Jus' a dozen more kettles, then it's off to the tav─ You again!? What in the seven hells do ye want this time!?
...An' o' course, the adventurer comes back triumphant. <sigh> Should've bloody known not even the chimera would be able to put ye out o' me misery.
Hand over those alumina salts, an' I'll get right to work.
There, the deed's done. I've squeezed out every onze of me skill to restore yer weapon, an' I think ye'll agree it looks the part.
Yet there's summat...missin' somehow, though I'm buggered if I know what. The piece jus' lacks a certain glow, as it were.
We need to learn more about the relic. Literature surroundin' the hero associated with it would be a fine place to begin...but I ain't exactly a scholarly an' haven't the slightest inklin' where to get me hands on such stuff.
As much as I hate to say this, Rowena's probably the one to talk to. Thing is, I'd sooner shove hot kettles up me arse sideways than owe that thrice-damned harridan another debt.
Yer gonna have to make yerself useful once again. Take yerself to Rowena an' ask for her help, an' return here once ye've learned summat what might be of use.
You're lookin' a bit more run-down than before. Your dealin's with Gerolt takin' their toll? Actually, forget I even asked. My mouth tastes o' bile if I so much as think o' that sorry specimen. So, is there somethin' you need?
...Literature on the hero of old who once wielded your weapon?
Hm, I reckon I can find what you need. Might take a bit o' time, is all.
'Course, this ain't a charity I'm runnin' here. I can get you what you want, but you'll have to do likewise for me.
I'll track down literature on <relic-specific hero>.
For your part, you're to bring me an Amdapor glyph. You'll find this inside Amdapor Keep, a ruined castle situated in the South Shroud.
Clear on the deal? Then run along and fulfill your part of it.
Back to pester me so soon? Judgin' from that smirk on yer face, I take it ye've found what ye need?
Aye, this text is about <relic-specific hero>, all right. But gods, would it have killed the bugger that wrote it to use normal bloody words!?
It'll take me bleedin' moons to get through this lot─time I could be spendin' on kettles! Gah...while I try to make head or tail of it all, why don't ye take this here unfinished <relic-specific weapon> an' try it out?
As I mentioned before, it's still missin' summat, but it's all there shape-wise, meanin' it should serve ye jus' fine as an ordinary weapon.
Seein' as yer a ripe ol' <relic-specific class>, mayhap ye'll be able to feel out exactly what it wants for.
That's to say, get out there an' fight some nasty foes, as <relic-specific hero> must've done back in the day.
<relic-specific location> oughta serve yer needs. Pit yerself against some <relic-specific foes> -- eight of each, say -- then come back an' tell me what ye've gleaned.
With the information in the text an' yer firsthand experience, I reckon we'll solve this puzzle yet.
I want ye to get out there an' fight some nasty foes, as <relic-specific hero> must've done back in the day.
<relic-specific location> oughta serve yer needs. Pit yerself against some <relic-specific foes> -- eight of each, say -- then come back an' tell me what ye've gleaned.
Back already? By the frown yer wearin', I take it ye've got nothin' to show for yer time with the <relic-specific race>.
Hmmm, might be as ye want for better sport. An' I know jus' the creature what'll give it to ye -- the hydra what reigns over the fiends within Halatali. A nasty piece of work, that. Try not to piss yer britches when ye see it.
The hydra can be confronted via the Duty Finder upon examining the quest destination situated by the entrance to Halatali in eastern Thanalan.
Please note that the trial “A Relic Reborn: The Hydra” must be completed while equipped with the unfinished <relic-specific weapon>.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains tales of Jhal Tristram's exploits. Turns out I already knew most of it.
To give ye the gist of it: a young Tristram goes afore the sultan, he pledges him his sword, the Sultansworn are formed, Tristram defeats an Amalj'aa pugilist in a famous duel, then sets off on a quest to retrieve the Sacred Goblet...
Things get a bit fanciful from then on, but cuttin' a long story short, Curtana does get a mention.
Four crystals embedded in the guard an' the ashes of a saint in the hilt─these're the sword's secrets.
In the old days, it was common practice to forge a weapon usin' body parts. A bit morbid, I grant ye, but folk back then believed the spirits of the dead offered the bearer protection.
Unlucky fer ye, the relic's hilt was in 'specially bad shape. I tried to make do with only the host weapon's, but it seems it weren't enough. Ah, but never ye fear─with me bottomless well o' talent, I'll work somethin' out yet.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It follows the life of Iron Eater, the legendary sellsword...or maybe sellaxe, who lived five centuries ago.
The man was the ultimate warrior, if the account's to be believed. With the amount of coin Iron Eater demanded for his services, they say ye could hire a whole bleedin' army.
...That, or keep me in mead for a fortnight! Hra hra hra!
A-Ahem! Anyroad, I managed to find mention of Bravura in amongst all the maimin' an' killin'. Like any warrior worth his salt, Iron Eater wielded a Bravura...but there was a tellin' difference: his axe head was forged to weigh double the usual. Not a weapon for the faint of heart, I tell ye.
Needless to say, the thing was a bugger to wield. But gods, if ye had the brute strength to swing it... Hoo hoo! Ye could make a proper mess o' someone!
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains an account of Saint Reinette's painfully pious life. Seems to be a part of Ishgard's holy scriptures.
Be true to the Fury, live in virtuous penury, dedicate yer life to the blah-bloody-blah...
The book fair put me to sleep, an' not even eleventeen flagons of mead can do that.
Anyroad, one bit touched on ol' Saint Reinette's time as a dragoon. That's where I found a passage describin' the relic spear Gae Bolg.
Turns out the base of the spearhead─that's the bit what looks like wings─ain't jus' for show. Apparently, it helps dragoons get their arc jus' right when they're leapin' on their prey.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It outlines Ivon Coeurlfist's martial philosophy as set down by the man's foremost disciple.
Accordin' to the writer, the Sphairai ain't no ordinary weapon.
Apparently, they're tools for tappin' a monk's “chakra”─whatever the hells that is─throwin' open the floodgates...or summat.
Buggered if I know how it works. But I do know the fists need some crystals embedded in them.
Eh? Chakra's the aether what courses through yer body, ye say?
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains an account o' how a Far Eastern ninja named Sasuke brought ninjutsu to Doma.
Seems ninjutsu was invented in a land far to the east of Othard's shores─same isle as where Sasuke grew up. The bloke was the best ninja about, so he gets secret orders or summat to cross the sea, an' makes his way to Doma.
Life for the Doman commonfolk was shite back then, what with the starvin' an' the poverty. The worst, though, was the bleedin' tyrant what ruled the place! Well, bein' the charitable sort, what's Sasuke to do but teach the smallfolk ninjutsu so they can win back their freedom?
So yer man trains some ninjas, an' together they boot the ruler's royal arse off the throne, an' put a dagger in his back for good measure. Well, with the dynasty dead, yer ninjas go lookin' for the spoils o' victory. An' what should they find in the palace vaults? Aye, a pair o' Yoshimitsu!
After that, the lot o' them headed to the outlands o' Doma to build a hidden village, so's to live as ninjas away from pryin' eyes. 'Tis there they wrote a bit on the Yoshimitsu, enough that I know now what's wrong. Seems the rhyme about the smitty ain't about his member's thickness: The daggers themselves are too damned slim!
See, the vamper's knives make a good host, an' what ye got now will slip 'twixt a man's ribs jus' fine. But Yoshimitsu were made o' folded steel what could pierce armor without shatterin' nor crumplin'. A thick blade─aye, that's what yer weapons are wantin' for.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains the complete works of Gilbert the Godsbow, the great archer-bard.
Porin' over the tome, I couldn't help but wince at the man's prudish bloody rhymes. There weren't a bawdy ballad among 'em! But personal preferences aside, I was able to track down the information we're after.
The final pages contain what appears to be the Godsbow's commentary regardin' the finer points of performance.
The man wrote that the weather─heat, humidity, an' what have ye─greatly affects an instrument's timbre.
An' the same's true for bows─they're more or less flexible, see, which can be the difference between an arrow in yer enemy's eye, an' one stuck in the ground half a yalm in front of him.
For this reason, Gilbert had tunin' pins installed on his weapon-cum-instrument. This much was written in the text.
Truth be told, I thought the bloody things were jus' elaborate riggin' for the strings. Who'd've thought ye could learn summat useful from a book of verse, eh!?
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains endless anecdotes of Shatotto's spine-chillin' endeavors.
As ye likely know, the woman was unsurpassed in her gift for destructive magicks. What ye might not know is that she was also prone to fits of boredom─a fine recipe for mayhem.
Durin' one of her many bouts of ennui, Shatotto thought it'd be a jolly jape to cast Meteor, the ancient spell used to bring down a star. An' cast it she did...
When even that didn't cure her bloody boredom, she decided to forge a rod usin' fragments of the fallen star─which is how the Stardust Rod came to be born.
If we're to do a proper job of restorin' the rod, we're gonna need fragments of a star. But even assumin' we could bring one down, I ain't sure we should─like as not the bloody thing would fall on our heads.
Ah, but don't despair, 'cause the text goes on to reveal more. It says that the star what fell shattered into a million pieces, each of which merged with whatever it touched. Aye, ye guessed it─dark matter.
'Course, I used plain ol' metal to patch the rod up, which is clearly where I went wrong.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains the many trials an' tribulations of our green-eyed heroine.
As ye might expect, the tome tells ye a fuller story than ye'd get from yer grandmama. Thankfully, one o' the chapters happens to describe Wiyu's grimoire in detail.
I thought that the studs what adorn it were only good for holdin' the bloody thing together. But it turns out they're meant to channel the wielder's aether as well. Ye learn summat new every day, eh?
Anyroad, it should be easy enough to replace the studs with summat more suitable for the job.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains the writin's of a thaumaturge of Arrzaneth Ossuary.
The bloke wrote of his meetin' with our Padjali friend, A–Towa–Cant, who was payin' visit to Ul'dah at the time. Can't blame the man for wantin' to have himself a bit of fun, eh!?
Their conversation bored me nigh to tears, but ye'll be pleased to hear the name Thyrus did eventually appear. As yer no doubt aware, wood's the most common material used in the makin' of conjury arms.
But on seein' that A–Towa–Cant's staff was wrought of stone, our thaumaturge decided to inquire as to its makin'.
'Course, bein' a Padjal, A–Towa gave his “answer” in the form of a bloody riddle...
But I'll spare ye the headache an' give it to ye plain: Thyrus is made of petrified wood, an' therein lies our problem.
I went an' used ordinary stone to fill in the missin' bits, see, an' it obviously didn't do the trick.
But what's done is done...or in this case, not done. Anyroad, let's talk about that text ye brought. It contains accounts o' the major clashes what took place durin' the War o' the Magi.
The entry on the Battle o' the Gods' Grip jumped out at me. This was when the Nymians took the Amdapori host by surprise as it made its beach landin'─takin' the siege to the besiegers, as it were.
As they're wont to do, the scholars played a key role in the victory, though that didn't interest me near as much as the passage what touched on the Omnilex.
Turns out the patterns on the cover are meant to improve the flow of aether from the wielder's hands. An' I'd thought 'em merely decorations. Ye learn summat new every day, eh?
As ye can see, I've done me research. I trust ye've also been pullin' yer weight, puttin' the relic to use like I said. Well, go on, then -- tell me what ye've learned.
Is that so? Aye...I'd wondered about that.
Based on what we've gleaned from the text an' yer firsthand experience, I'll rework the relic so as to improve yer affinity with it. Hand it over for a second, will ye?
There, the deed's done. That leaves us with one last step.
That is, fully mergin' the old relic, the new host, an' the soul of the bearer -- aye, that's you. Only then can the weapon be restored to its former glory.
But to do this, I need a fire what's hotter than the seventh hell. An' to keep such a fire alive an' ragin', I need a wind what's fiercer than the...than the...er, hangover I had last week. Gah, ye know what I mean!
Jus' get me a white-hot ember, a howlin' gale, an' a chunk o' hyperfused ore, an' I'll finish yer bloody weapon! Ah, an' I need me a bottle o' Radz-at-Han quenchin' oil as well to cool it off!
The white-hot ember, the howling gale, and the chunk of hyperfused ore can be obtained by defeating Ifrit in the Bowl of Embers (Hard), Garuda in the Howling Eye (Hard), and Titan in the Navel (Hard), respectively.
The bottle of Radz-at-Han quenching oil can be obtained by exchanging 15 Allagan tomestones of poetics with Auriana, one of Rowena's assistants at Revenant's Toll.
So yer back... Never doubted for a second ye'd trounce all three primals an' come back to pester me again.
All right, then, let's see the white-hot ember, the howling gale, an' the hyperfused ore.
Aye, these oughta get me the levels o' heat I need. Which leaves just the Radz-at-Han quenchin' oil for coolin' things off afterwards. Ye've got that, too, I assume?
Ye've done yer part, an' so I'll do mine.
Watch now, an' try not to bat yer eyelids─ain't every day ye get to see a relic reborn!
Muahahaha... MUAHAHAHAHAHA! These gods-given hands've worked yet another miracle! Feast yer eyes on <relic-specific weapon>, jus' as it was in days of yore! 'Tis a sight to move a man to tears...ye lucky bastard. Ye'd better bloody well take care of it!