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McBeefâ„¢ · **10-13-2014, 11:08 AM**

(Feel free to post any sort of response to the items given, or Nat's death in general. OOC comments are fine as well.)

A small, weathered, and frequently re-written will is found among Natalie's effects. It has a list of names, many scratched out, others crammed in where this is room. It seems to have been updated very recently, possibly even the day before she was slain.

I, Natalie Mcbeef, of sound mind and body do bequeath the following upon the event of my passing.

My sword I give to C'kayah Tia, my first and deepest love. I had always begged you to take up the sword for your own protection, though you never had a blade worthy of the name. My sword, nameless and plain as it is, has served me through untold trials. Somehow I am sure, even if I lay broken on some battlefield, it does not. May you wield it for the right reasons.

The armor of the Sultansworn should be returned to the order, however I wish to gift my personal armor to Jana Ridah, who was an unexpected and indispensable gift in these trying times. If this will comes to pass, it means I know far less of you than you deserve, but I care deeply of you, and hope my armor will protect better than it has me.

What meagre fortune I have, I wish to go to Franz and Kage, for the upkeep of our house. Both of them have supported me ceaselessly in different ways, and I can only hope they can continue to provide that support for others.

My papers, diaries and books I give to Iron Sea, my stalwart companion, confidant and protector in all things. I hardly need to say what we had between us, but hopefully I can continue to confide in you, whatever happens. Better keep up on your reading sessions.

To Coatleque Crofte, my wise superior and shield sister, I leave my favorite bomb earring. From time to time, please wear it and think of me, not as just an ally, but as a friend.

To Roen, my first and longest apprentice, I offer the words, "Never Falter" and a medallion of Nald'Thal. We have not seen eye to eye of late, and I can only hope someone can say them for me. I may not like the choices she has made lately, but if this will has come to pass, it likely means I have failed in altering. Roen, wherever you are, whatever you decide, do not falter. You probably think of our Eorzean gods as a strange superstition, but please take the amulet and remember that there are two facess to all things.

To Jameson Taeros I leave a set of matching dirks, and a case of wine. I had hoped to share both after this latest challenge was through, twin daggers defending Ul'dah from the shadows. I know not if you even care for weapons, but they and the wine both are well made. Use them if it pleases you.

To Aya, my constant companion at the Quicksand, I leave my Brass Blade mail. I know you'd likely wish to never see such armor again, but it is of good quality and make despite the color. Should you ever need to bear arms and armor once again, it will keep you safe, despite your reservations.

To Askier, whose arm was lost due to my plans, I leave a cannon, powder and shot. May he use it in the service of his new home instead of his old.

To Osric and Lieutenant Kahna'a of the Red Wings I offer each a well worn set of portable manacles. The Sultansworn are not enforcers of law, it is true, but these manacles have seen many a wrist, from the surliest lalafell to the most wrathful Roe, and have held them all. May the aid you as much in the pursuit of justice as they have aided me.

To Anelia, my lost friend and companion. I leave to you only some advice, you can serve the jewel, or you can serve yourself. Nothing will come of trying to tread the middle ground.

To Leanne I leave my flowered hat. Though many seemed to dislike it, I'm sure such a fellow lover of fine headgear will appreciate it.

To Lady Edda I leave a book of rather ribald love poetry. Perhaps you will read it, and open your eyes to those close to you.

To Gharen Wolfsong I leave a container of burn ointment. The gesture is only symbolic, but hopefully you can forgive me for the torture I put you through.

Likeise, to Delial Grimsong I leave a container of nail ointment. Symbolic, though you know what it is for.

To the Nightblades, should anyone find them, I leave my medical kit. Though I have not seen them in some time, hopefully Stanzie or Lum can make some use of it.

To Alexeria Whiteraven I leave a simple pair of cotton pants and shirt. Though I doubt you'll wear them, I hope you do if it gets cold.

To G'leo Nunh, I leave a pair of Couerl print underpants. He knows why.

To Suri, should anyone be able to find her, I leave my collection of berets. It was when I first saw you weaing one when I became fond of them. I havent seen you wearing one lately, hopefully they will remind you of simpler times.

To Otto Vann I leave a pair of linen tights. May you will someday look as fabulous as me.

To Fiona, I leave a case of laundry soap, hopefully you learned enough to use it yourself now.

To S'imba Tia I leave a jar of healing ointment, and the hopes he'll someday wear armor to the trouble he constantly finds himself in.

To Marrow, wherever she is, I give back the scale. Perhaps you can wear it as I have worn it.

To Honzo, who turned our house into a home, I gift a set of bed reinforcements. In case you have another oversize guest.

To Koporo, apprentice and destroyer of shins, I leave my tower shield. May it protect you through many misfortunes, as it has done so for me.

To Aldyet, I often regret that as a teacher I failed you in so many ways. I hope you indeed have found the life you seek. I leave you with a letter of recomendation to join the Free Paladins.

To Siben, a long time friend I offer a fruit knife, in memory of a lazy afternoon spent together as you recovered from your injuries.

To Denn I leave my old sword, since it's not like I can get it back now.

To Obsidian Hornet, I leave a sketch of the face you loved to punch.

(There are more pages to the will, as well as series of sealed letters.)

McBeefâ„¢ · **10-13-2014, 11:11 AM**

(Coatleque is the executor of Natalie's will, so most of you will recieve these items and messages from her)

Aldotsk · **10-13-2014, 11:59 AM**

Anelia reads the will and leaves it on the table. She lowered her head down, having her hairs cover face to prevent from anyone seeing her cry. She smiled a little from Natalie's will.

"In the end, you still loved on what you wanted to do. I'll respect that at least. I'll see you in the afterlife once I finish what I have been fighting for... maybe that time, we'll sit down and have a drink or something."

She takes a deep breath and sighed a bit.

"I won't say good bye, because I know you aren't the type that would say it either. But I'll say that I'll see you again."

She walks out with a slight weak smile in her mouth. She felt that she should stop weeping for Natalie. She remembers that one day when Anelia was weeping for her foster father's sickness, Natalie came up to her with a silly jokes to make her smile.Â

Even though a drop of tear fell down, that was her last tear that dropped for her friend.

DoomsdayClock · **10-13-2014, 01:11 PM**

He had tried to remain home the night before, but the walls, the memories were far too strong. What little he needed, Iron hadÂ packed up and departed the home of his companions, the place that Natalie had dragged him off to when she learned of him sleeping out in the sands.
How ironic was it that he would return to that same locale? That under the stars the big man sat perched atop a dune with that parchment held within his hands. He had cried, publicly broken down. He had prayed, for the first time acknowledging a higher power in some hope to just feel his words had reached her....but that night had ended and given way to a great void within his heart the following day. There was no comfort, there was only a wracking guilt and a searing sting that he would never see her stupid face again. That he would never spend an eve goofing off and playing along with her antics...
He remembered the previous week. He recalled the image of her standing by that pillar in the Quicksand in her armor just like the first eve the spoke. His lips trembled at speaking the same words he had to her that first day, jokingly and her playing along.
A gust of wind let the sands wash over his side, pulling him away from those thoughts. Eyes lingered on the words written about him, and with a groan the big man crumpled it up within his hands, dropping it to the earth.
"Stalwart indeed......protector......don't mock me in death lady. Had I been anything of the sort.....you'd still be here with me..."
And with that spoke, he lowered his head to his hands.

Whittledown · **10-13-2014, 01:12 PM**

Obsidian Hornet was wrestling a fence post into the it's hole when the notice arrived. The letter went unopened for some time, shoved roughly into her back pocket until she was finished with the days work.

By the time she had returned to her half-built house that night she had forgotten all about the letter. It wasn't until she slumped onto the thin mat she was sleeping on that she felt the letter and pulled it out. It was crumpled but she did her best to straighten it out before reading it.

In a single fluid motion she opened the letter, read through the contents, glanced at the sketch, and threw the bundle into open pot bellied stove to be burned when she made her morning tea.

Aya · **10-13-2014, 01:16 PM**

Aya sat alone upon the floor of the small, simple room that had become her home in Ul'dah.

It seemed like yesterday that Natalie and Kage had greeted her with welcome smile, and raised mugs.Â Their cheer, and their hospitality had set her upon the course that brought her to the heart of the desert.Â Now, months later, many of their friends, struggles, and trials were her own.Â She had become intricately tied into the world in which they had lead her.

Days had passed, and she had hardly the opportunity to grieve.Â Now it seemed to come at once, behind closed doors, where the need to be strong, to comfort, and to support faded into lingering shadows.Â

Stained cheeks gave testament to sorrow.Â She lifted a peanut from a bowl resting on the floor, staring at it intently, as if it could summon back that goofy smile.Â Instead it summoned only its image, from the bittersweet of pleasant memory.

Coatleque · **10-13-2014, 02:29 PM**

Coatleque positioned her beret upon her head and looked over herself in the mirror. She was clad in her ceremonial blue and white uniform that she had not worn in moons. It was Natalie's favorite of the two uniforms, whenever the stubborn woman could even be made to wear it. She did so prefer the color red.

It took all her resolve not to break down again. The red had finally gone out of her eyes that morning when she learned that she was to be Natalie's executor. She had not been finished her own mourning, but for the sake of the others she would have to wear a face of understanding indifference. Otherwise she would never get halfway down the list.

What items could be mailed, had been sent. For items that could not be easily moved, recipients would be sent summons to the estate. The rest would require a more personal touch.

With a deep breath and a slow sigh, she folded the list of names and pocketed it before heading for the door. It was time to put aside her friend for her duty once more.

cuideag · **10-14-2014, 10:54 PM**

As a rule, they did not speak. Their interactions were brief and quick (albeit with rising frequency these past suns) and as discreet as could be made given that they could only meet in public. Eyes never met and in quieter moments (ones accompanied by copious drink), Delial occasionally wondered if they ever could.

She handed over another handful of sealed envelopes. Surprisingly dextrous fingers (paws?) plied them free, giving what she assumed a glance over the addressees. Heads nodded in acknowledgement and Delial was ready to turn and go back the way she came when a paw rose, gesturing her to wait. The moogle made a quiet series of odd hooting sounds as it dug through its big red bag. How it ever found anything in it was a mystery to her: some form of moogle magic, she assumed, some trickery beyond the wits of men.

It produced for her a single thick envelope, whatever contents it bore greatly distending its packaging. A quizzical glance rewarded her nothing but a shrug. You know the rules, it seemed to say, and Delial did not press upon it. It was worth a bit of worry, however, as none of the letters she had been sending would warrant anything more in return. Most peculiar of all was the sender's name: Coatleque Crofte.

So she nodded her silent goodbye to the moogle and turned upon her heel. Horizon was not her preferred place of business but it beat Ul'dah. As she strode away, making for the shade beneath a store front awning, she neatly tore open the envelope in question and fished about inside. Between her pointer and middle fingers she caught a tiny plain tin with a lid sealed tight over its contents. Had she asked for evidence...? No, no, only information. Unless Ser Crofte is being crea--

Delial's brows pinched. She spun the tin around until the label came into view and she stared at it for many moments. Ser Crofte did not seem the type to jest with a woman she hardly knew, particularly not a jest in such poor taste. Sultansworn. Natalie.

No more than five minutes would pass before Delial would find herself trying to explain to a shrivelled little woman and the Brass Blade she had summoned that yes, of course she would pay to repair that perfectly lovely and also outrageously expensive window and no, no, she had absolutely no idea what possessed her to throw a perfectly harmless and ordinary little tin of nail care ointment straight through it. It was a lie of course and she knew it well, but she could not find a way to put to words what blind, unthinking rage could express just so succinctly.

**Unnamed Mercenary** · **10-15-2014, 10:59 AM**

Franz was sitting at a small table enjoying a quiet breakfast by the airship docks when it had arrived. The moogle had rustled in its bag and dropped off an envelope with the most gaudy and eccentric writing he had seen. Nearly engraved in gold leaf was the name "Porkchop".

He looked in shock. Garlemald did not have mooglesÂ deliver mail, if any moogles even existed there at all. Was he supposed to pay for the delivery? Buy it a drink? Pat its fluffy head and say 'thanks'? "You must be special, kupo~" was the only thing it had said before it flew off to deliver what he could only imagine would be more letters.

There was only a single person who could have thought that addressing an envelope this way was correct, let alone a good idea. Natalie

"Even in death, she'll have the last laugh I suppose." He took a small sip of the tea that accompanied a small meal of sweet frumenty with some fruit in it and some scrambled dodo eggs. But as he had resolved the previous day, moping around would fix anything. He had moved on and as long as Kage would allow him to stay, he would reside in that house. He'd leave the letter sealed. Whatever its contents may be, they were likely not life-threatening.

Leanne · **10-15-2014, 06:55 PM**

Leanne closed the door of her room before stretching herself. Ever since she adopted the name of 'Agatha', her life seemed more exhausting than usual, having to act and behave like a person she never was for starters. "Tiring..." she whispers to herself while taking off her bandana, flipping her red hair to unflatten it.

Her exhaustion gave place to curiosity though, as a closed letter with a package was to be found in her desk. She figured out the delivery moogles would easily find her new location, yet was more curious about who was sending her the letter. A brow was raised as she inspected the letter, finding Crofte's name in it. An even bigger expression of surprise and worry came to decorate her face, as she inspected the package, finding a rather colorful flowered hat. "What the..." she mutters, finally opening the letter to read it's contents.

Golden hues slowly widened in horror, teeth clenching as the grip on the letter increased until she completely crushed it. In a fit of rage, she threw the crumpled letter away, elbows being slammed on the desk as she began to breath very slowly, the anger towards herself increasing steadily. "...E-Even though I tried my b-best...I couldn't stop this f-from happening..." she mutters. "H-Hope people are happy now...isn't that the...justice all of you wanted...there it is. She's dead...she's...dead...and I couldn't..."

Words trailed off as her vision became blurred, tears the girl held for so long now coming out in a cascade caressing her cheeks, and destroying her make-up. Lowering her head till her forehead met her arms, Leanne quietly wept to herself.

Melkire · **10-17-2014, 04:40 PM**

Crrrrrrrriik.

He frowned, reached for the key on his office desk, and undid the clasp once more. He spun it once, twice, three times around the first two fingers of his other hand, then took hold and snapped the cuff closed again.

Crrrrrrrriik.

The key again, the one in his right hand; the keyholes, the ones on the handcuffs; a simple twist of his wrist and a turn of tumblers: freedom took due process, whereas imprisonment was a simple matter of a moment's pressure. He snorted. How completely opposite from the city to which he'd sworn service. In Ul'dah, an arrest required strenuous effort and undue cost, whereas freedom for the unjust was a simple matter of a moment's pressure - be that gil, connections, influence....

Never expected symbolism out o' the likes of you, Nat, 'specially not t'this extent. The chains that bind us... they go both ways, don't they? And there are so many kinds... loyalty, duty, obligation, employment, grievance, grudge....

He pocketed the key, then threw the manacles onto his desk, stared at them over his steepled hands.Â

Your choices, your actions, your resultin' history, your growing reputation... these things bound you, the cuffs you made yourself, the ones you entrusted to....

The midlander buried his face in his hands and broke into laughter.Â

Gods, you were never that complicated, troublemaker. You probably just meant t'tell us somethin' along the lines of, "just fucking do your jobs already, morons". Suppose you never did learn....

He shook his head as he pushed himself to his feet, pulled his coat off the back of his chair and drew it on over his shoulders with a shrug and a quick tug of the lapels. He walked around his desk, boots echoing on the wooden floorboards.Â

I'm a soldier. I'm not law enforcement either...

A moment's pause. He sighed, then smirked as he turned back, plucked the handcuffs from where they sat, and stuffed them inside his coat.Â

...but mayhap I'll make an exception. Just this once.

Sergeant Melkire closed the door behind him as he left.

Askier · **10-18-2014, 11:33 AM**

Askier read the letter slowly, his golden eyes tracing the written words carefully. Â As Askier finished the letter, his face began to twitch on the left side as his lips pulled into a smile.

The metal hand crushed the parchment into a ball and held it in a tight fist. Â His fangs flashed and he threw his head back in a cackle of joy, his eyes staring at the blue sky above.

Its was poetic, Askier thought. It had been Natalie's first plan that had broken him and, unexpectedly, it had been Natalie's second plan that had restored the mentally ruined Garlean. When he had seen that warehouse torn asunder and seen the life blood of Natalie gushing across the deck of that ship from Oscare's bullet, he had finally crushed his mental demons Itar had created in him. Â He was whole again.

The Galean opened his metal hand and shoved the parchment down the gun barrel he had built into his magitec arm. Â The Garlean then aimed the gun into the air and, in imitation of a Garlean military send off, fired six shots into the air, shredding the parchment and empting his weapon's six cylinders.

Askier's eyes watched as ash and smoke flickered on the air before him as he continued to grin.

"Keep Itar company in the hells Natalie. I'm sending a few more your way before I join you down there."

Gharen · **10-18-2014, 08:58 PM**

The campfire's glow reflected on Gharen's face as he sat in the dust and dirt with his back against a rock, the nights catch cooked over the dancing flames. He held the package before him that the moogle had delivered, he'd had much to think about as of late, Hornet's words for him before she left, and a plan set in motion that had been brought to a grinding halt with an untimely death.

At this moment though he quietly wondered how the little fuzz balls managed to find him in his camps every time someone sent him something.

He regarded the name of the sender surprised somewhat to see Miss Crofte's name on something sent to him. He removed the twine and heavy paper, revealing a container of ointment. He unfolded the letter that had been enclosed with it and began to read.

He set the container down and quietly folded the letter back up. He looked up into the clear night sky of Thanalan. He'd never hated Natalie even with all that she had done, he'd certainly been angry with her, if anything he'd seen potential in her despite her hard headed approach to a situation.

He placed the heavy wrapping paper and twine into the fire and removed the meal he'd been cooking. As the paper and twine were reduced to ash the Flames popped and cracked, sending embers skyward into the Thanalan air, he quietly issued a prayer to Thal to look kindly upon the stubborn girl that recently entered his halls.

Coatleque · **10-20-2014, 01:58 PM**

Fiona Arasgain looked down at his notepad. Despite being dressed in a feminine manner, the Miqo'te was using a slightly masculine voice to go over the it, one line at a time. "Salmon, mahi-mahi, shrimp, tuna...", Fio had a quill, making additional notes all the while. "Going to have to get this stuff on ice for his birthday tomorrow. Ah, right, that Doman seaweed crap. Have some of that. Sticky rice won't be hard to find. Just a stroll down to the market...". He rounded the corner of the strip to the location the letter had sent him to.

Coatleque was sitting at her desk in the small and barely lit office. Still no bigger than a closet, the Order had no need to move her to more spacious surroundings despite her increased work load. She looks up from what she was reading as Fio rounded the corner, her door being open. "Lieutenant Arasgain!" Fio snapped out of the list and nearly dropped it to the ground. He yelped rather loudly, really bringing out the masculine edge before switching into something more feminine. "Ah, yes, Miss Crofte? What can I do for you this evening?", he replied while tucked the paper away in his chef's uniform. Turning, the Miqo'te's sky blue eyes met with the Sultansworn. There was the odd spot or spill staining Fio's apron.

She smiled and gestured for him to come into her office, or what would pass for 'inside' the doorway of the cramped space. "I had written you a summons, I assume you were here to answer it?" He nodded once, a hand drifting up to his face. "Yeah. Got a little distracted planning a birthday meal for a friend of sorts." A slight blush tinted the blonde's cheeks. "Of course, he wants foreign cuisine from Doma, so I had to go out and do a bit of reading and trading to get the necessary skills and tools. What's going on, Miss Crofte?"

Coatleque nodded politely along as Fio spoke trying to feign interest in some stranger's birthday dinner plans. "I had two matters we needed to discuss.", she replied, "The first is in regards to the last time we had a proper discussion. Something about going to Coerthas, and the transfer of ceruleum if you recall?"

"No, I transferred it at a dock warehouse in Limsa Lominsa. No idea what became of it. It was shuffled out pretty fast, according to my sources."
She nodded and folded her hands on the desk in front of her, trying to emulate the manner of how her Captain had grilled her so many times before. "Yes, I understand that. I had hoped to observe the exchange and follow them. You never contacted me to let me know when it was happening." "Yeah. Sorry about that. The target got a hold of me and rushed me on it. There was nothing I could do. Seriously, I was wearing a dress something like you are now, waiting for the okay, when he comes up to me all rushed-like. I didn't even have time to change into something better for manual labor."

Crofte sighed and looks down for a moment before raising her gaze back to Fiona's level. "I understand, sometimes things just do not go as planned. With the death of my comrade, you are the only remaining lead I have on the whereabouts of the Pirate. If you have anything else for me, please let me know as soon as you can." It was a half-truth, of course. She did have another lead which was being followed-up on by someone else. But the information there had not yet pointed back directly to the Pirate. Fiona did not need to know this, and having a sense of importance in the matter may provide faster results. "Unless you prefer I blindly search the cliffs of Providence Point for a hideout that may not exist?", she asked.

Fio nodded once. Upon hearing her question, his head shook. "The location's been broken down. No need to trek out there. I'll let him know I'm looking for more work on the linkpearl he gave me. Oh, and another thing I need to discuss. If you catch him, I need total immunity from anything he tells you. Mostly because they're lies." Fio waved a hand dismissively at the notion. "My goal is only to stop him. I care not for whoever else he tries to implicate in whatever scheme is his hatching.", Coatleque replied. "Thank you for understanding. To my second point then... I have been charged with settling the estate of Ser Natalie Mcbeef. She had set something aside for you."

The Knight removed her glasses and pointed with them to a crate sitting just outside her office. It was a wooden crate with the top pried off so the contents could be examined. The smell of a strong, flowery perfume emanated from it, wafting into the office. Fiona blinked a few times. "Huh. He may have tasked me with taking her out. Thank the gods I don't have to do a damned thing or force her into hiding.", he said, not overly shaken up over the news. Or even shaken up at all. How much death had this Miqo'te seen in his days to be able to shrug off the death of acquaintance? Fio walked over to the crate and took a look inside, sniffing on the way over. "It's soap. Laundry soap. She tried to teach me how to do laundry. For some reason, it's one of the things my brain just doesn't get. Like math, counting, or business. I have to hire an accountant to take care of it all for me. Sorry, you must think I'm a little slow after hearing that." He just looked back up at Crofte. "And how in the hells am I going to haul it out?"

Coatleque shrugged at her desk. "That is your problem now, unfortunately. You need not do it now, of course. The guard in the hall has been notified you will be collecting it at some point. I'm sure you fan find some strapping young lad to help haul it away." She wrinkled her nose. "The sooner the better, if you please. The scent is giving me a headache." "Of course, Miss. I'll try to get somebody to haul it to a place where I can give it to the woman I pay to do my laundry and clean my room." Fio paused for a few moments. "Gods, I really am pathetic." The Miqo'te's voice dropped from it's matter-of-fact tone to something rather pitiful.

"Some of us have not the hours to spare for such things. You need not explain yourself to me of course. Gratitude for your promptness though." She paused for a moment. Had she really just said Gratitude? Her thoughts went to Roen briefly before shaking her head. "It's not that I didn't try. It's like I'm mentally incapable of such things, Miss. And don't worry about that. It's the least I could do on the way back to the tiny room I rent out here." Coatleque smirked to herself. It couldn't possibly be worse than the hole they made her work out of here. She returned her glasses to her head. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Please keep in contact."

"Of course. I'll send somebody by for the crate. A damned shame you lost a comrade, though." He stepped forward and around her desk at these words and gave her a hug from the side. An unusual display of emotion from him. Coatleque found herself leaning towards him but was in no position herself to return it from where she sat. "Thank you for your condolences. It was very unexpected." Fio took a step back and re-adjusted his glasses. "The hells were you expecting?", an eyebrow lifted curiously. "I do not know what I was expecting, but what I was not expecting was an improvised explosive before negotiations could be completed."

Fio's head jarred rather quickly as he was taken aback by the news. "Improvised explosive? Negotiations? What were you all up to, Miss?" The Sworn shook her head in disgust. There was plenty she could tell him on the matter, but the question was more of what she could trust the Maelstrom Lieutenant with. He was not yet aware that his own background had been recently suspect. "I cannot discuss it further right now, though you should find what you need to know from your superiors back in Limsa Lominsa. Ask about recent mishaps at Moraby Drydocks. I am sure Lazarov will need help replenishing some stock."

"I'll do that, Miss. Thank you.", he said taking another step back, then cursing loudly. "Fuck!" Those slender fingers of his wormed up under the glasses to pinch of the bridge of his nose. "I'll be hearing about this from Nero, soon enough. Probably going to have to replace that ceruleum. Getting more's going to be a pain." The Knight's ears perked up slightly. "Yes well, perhaps you can keep me in mind this time again." "I will. But I'll need to get creative with procurement.", he replied in thought. "I'll need to check my sources. Getting my hands on such a material is difficult, to say the least." "And rightfully so.", Coatleque interjected. Then an idea sprung to mind.

"The name Lucaniel Clarke may interest you though. Yet another smuggler I have been keeping my ears open for. May be transporting ceruleum in bulk for resale. You did not hear this from me, of course." He nodded quickly, pulling out a small pencil and the scrap of paper that had been used before. "Lucaniel Clarke. Thanks. How do I get a hold of them?" "If I knew that, he would be in the gaols.", she remarked in amusement. "May have gone to ground. It is the only lead I have that could help you, though. Trading one evil for another as it were. Lazarov is the bigger target in this case, and if it gets the stuff OUT of my city, all the better." "Hm, right. Can't blame you. I'm not fond of smugglers, either. Oh, and one thing. Lazarov said he wants to use this ceruleum for mining so he can muscle his way in on Ul'dahn trade. Almost forgot to mention that. I had to tell him one hell of a huge lie to get that far." Her expression turned to a smirk. "I doubt he would say what he really needs it for. A highly controlled explosive fuel? I am tired of dealing with the stuff myself." "Of course. I wouldn't be in this job if I was stupid enough to believe everything somebody says. Well, I am stupid, just not that stupid.", he said with a grin, but the slight furrow of his brows betrayed his conflicted feelings about self-deprecation. "We all are in our own ways I suppose.", she said as she leaned back in her chair. It creaked loudly as if the wood is ready to snap, but still held for some reason.

Fio nodded quickly. "Right. Sorry to bore you with the details. I'll get that immunity, right? This is going way deeper then I had anticipated, and I may need to do some unsavory things to get to the bottom of this." "Just don't do anything too unsavory? I would be remiss if the Bismark should lose one of their prized chefs. I should get back to my reports, though. The less glamorous side of my job..." Fio looked a little antsy upon being denied. "And risk getting myself killed? Miss Crofte, I may have to leave you with no leads if you can't guarantee my safety here in Ul'dah. I hate doing this, but still." She looked back up with a slight curl of her lips. "T'was merely a suggestion, Lieutenant. We all operate how we see fit, Aye?" Fio's lips thinned. "Right. Good evening, Miss." He was quick to leave, clearly agitated. She may have seen the Miqo'te toying with a knife on the way out. "Twelvespeed, Master Arasgain."

Coatleque · **10-24-2014, 12:32 AM**

Coatleque sat in her room at the Hourglass that night staring at the orange globe in her hands. A single earring of what looked like glass, shaped like one of those bomb creatures everyone runs from. She tried her best to draw some sort of meaning, some significance from the item. There had to be some deeper interpretation as to why this was left to her. Her eyes began to well as she could think of none.

So this is how it was to be then. Natalie was gone. And now Coatleque was left with the burden of not just placating Taeros, but stopping this Pirate by herself. She knew that was not true, there were many already on the case. But Natalie was in the forefront. By far the most aggressive. And with her gone, others would begin to look to Crofte. She could feel the weight already pressing down.

Holding up the earring she looked at it through the light of the window. She turned it this way and that watching it. In truth, it was the ugliest, most gaudy piece of jewelry she ever saw. Taking a deep breath, she gently stored it in the same box where she kept a certain shell ring. Her mind was made up. She would need to be more stern, shrewd, and willing to do things others were not. For the memory of her friend, and for the safety of those still with her.

But in this one case... she would need a whole new outfit to match it.

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Remnants of a Life Inexpertly Led (Open, OOC comments ok)

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