Hydaelyn Role-Players

Costa del Sol blazed with rumors.

"Somebody tore down the poster."

"I head them say he's back."

"But he died five years ago."

"He was at the festival. Stalking Lily."

"She's a disturbed child. She was seeing things. Probably a fellow who looked like him."

"But the poster."

"That thing was years old."

"And so are the transgressions. Just leave it."

"You don't understand. If he's still alive... he's got something coming to him."


Somewhere up the shore and far away, a man walked alone. His robes, several sizes too big for him, billowed in the wind. 

Stormclouds rolled with the waves. Rain applauded the sand and water. Soon, he stopped, looking out at the roiling waves with a detached, amused look on his face.

"Selfish." He scoffed at the sea, then smiled. "Not sure what I can do about that, Eduard. Everyone's selfish." He worked his hands into his pockets, bowed his head, and kept walking. "I can't do a thing. Not a thing."

Wineport wasn't far. But it was farther, if you walked. Perhaps days, at this pace.

It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be.

A laugh, and the sound of chart wheels on dirt can be heard.  "Really, Papa, it's been quiet," a female voice can be heard in the distance.  "Next time, get one of the boys to do the run up to Wineport."  As the cart comes into view, a female Seawolf can be seen driving the chart.  Her hand is at her ear, tilting as she listen to something on the other end.  "I can handle myself but once I'm back, I have to head for Ul'dah."  She smile.  "Ah, I'll be careful.  Yes, I love ya too."

She settle back in the seat, direction the two Chocobos on up the path.  It took a moment to spot the figure moving along the road.  Far to thin for her liking and she had extra.  "Hey, you..." Kestlona call, making the chocobos pick up the pace.  Once she caught up, she slow the chart down.  "Ya, need a lift?"

Khyran stopped at the sound of rolling wheels upon the road not far from shore. He squinted at the sight of the chocobo-drawn cart, against the rain and sand blowing in his face. 

"Perhaps," he answered as he examined the Seawolf, his expression detached and cool. "Where are you going?"

Kestlona offer up a smile to the cool and detached expression that she was given.  "Ah, just some supplies to Wineport.  Mostly fresh fish and some crystals to help 'em with wine making."  She points toward the back of the cart, where ice shards were pack around fish, and also several crates of produces.  "Papa ask me to deliver them to Wineport on the way back to Lisma."

She move over to allow him to climb into the front next to her, unless he wanted to sit with the food stuff in the back.  "Brought some extra food while in Costa so help yaself is ya hungry."  She gave him a smile.  "Look like ya could use a few good meals on ya."

"Names Kestlona Guhtgeiswyn," she says.  "Nice ta meet ya."

"Wineport," he echoed, then nodded once. With considerable effort, he climbed up into the back of the cart and settled himself down on a crate. Idly, he rifled through his side satchel and took out a loose coinpurse. He pinched out a couple gil and held it out to her.

"Not going to eat your cargo," he said, "but this should suffice for transportation, aye?"

He didn't give a name.

Kestlona reach out, closing his fingers back over the coins.  "Nah, ya keep it.  Not take good Gil when it looks like they need it more."  She pulls her hand back and turns her eyes back to the road.  She rummage under the seat, pulling out a small box, and setting it next to her.  "This is what ah brought, ifna you don't mind dry fish and oranges."

In the back of the cart, he would find an Ul'dahian private jacket thrown into the back.  He would be able to see a patch on the shoulder, a falcon in flight, red as sunset...or blood.  A notebook can also be seen just under the jacket.  "So whata brings ya to this part of La Noscea?" she ask, making conversation.

Heavy jungle rain seems to pummel her eyes as she stumbles through the undergrowth of the forest. Nearly three suns come and gone without food or a wash, the scrawny miqo'te stumbles over a tree's root into the mud. 

"Grnnh..." she growls, lifting herself up with two arms that seem little more than bone and a thin, stringy layer of shaking muscle. Gritting her teeth, she spits out mud and wipes her eyes with the back of a callused hand. Her face is riddled with small knife scars, most notably one across her right cheek that follows across the bridge of her nose.

She leans against the tree, rain pounding against her with a weight that seems heavier than a buffalo to her, in her current state. Dirt and grime trickles down from her short-cropped hair, dirtying her face again. She seems to be trying with the last of her strength to hold back tears from joining the rain.

For a moment, the rain seems to grow louder, and louder, and... like wheels rolling fast over a stony path. Her ears fly straight up. 

A road!

With a burst of strength, she sprints toward the sound, unthinking. She runs, feeling the muddy ground through her worn-out caligae. She leaps through a thick line of vegetation to stumble to a halt on a narrow road bordering the sea. The carriage she had heard jostles along ahead of her, ten yalms away. She can see two figures riding along, drawn by two chocobo.

In a half-starved frenzy, she reaches for her tomahawk and jerks her arm back, aiming for one of the rear wheels. The sweet scent of fresh fish fills her nose as she hurls the makeshift weapon at the cart with desperation. Her other hand moves to ready a knife strung to her belt.

The wheel broke the moment the tomahawk hit it, throwing the cart at an angle, one of the produce crates getting thrown out, and causing the chocobos to start shrieking.  Kestlona caught hold of the pole that held up the covering over the seat before turning toward the stranger in the back of the cart.  "Ya alright?" she ask, her eyes shifting over the hyur to make sure he hadn't been injury.

She jumps from the seat, moving to see what had cause the wheel to break, and spotting the tomahawk embedded into the broken wheel.  She curse under her breath, "Ita was going so well..." she mutter, eyes scaning the road behind her through the rain.  Behind them, a miqo'te, in about or worst shape then the hyur in the back of the cart.  Her mind began to work, was the hyur in with the miqo'te, or just an odd bit of luck.  No, he would have try to subdue her if that was the case.  "If ah tell ya to run...then go..." she whisper to the hyur.

Kestlona held up her hands, moving to place herself between the miqo'te, and the cart.  The miqo'te would be able to see the pugilist's weapons at her hips.  "Nowa ah don't have much ina way of gil," Kest said, keeping her eyes on the other female, "but ya welcome to it, ifna ya go on ya way."

Khy withdrew his handful of Gil. When the cart-master turned around again, he spied the jacket... Then stuffed the Gil within a pocket on said jacket, ignoring the journal therein.

"Not going to eat your rations, either." He said in a low voice. "I'm from here. Was just taking a trip back home. Now I'm leaving."

The rain-soaked stranger didn't seem to have a clue what was going on until it was happening. The miqo'te was suddenly there, a cart wheel suddenly damaged, chocobos squawking and cargo flying.

He, too, made a jarring collision with the ground. His thin body smashed into the wood and he gave a quiet groan. The cart master was telling him to run. He scoffed. He was tired of running.

He pushed himself upright and faced the desperate, starved girl. "That's enough of that," he said. "If you want something, you'll take it from me. Leave this merchant be. You will regret it if you lay one hand on her. You don't know what I can do to you if you don't heed me."

Expressionless. He spoke in a dangerously calm tone. Given his physique , it was not likely he could do much in the way of harm... But something about the way he said it presented an idea of finality.

Nhalki's eyes dart between the roegadyn, the hyur and the fallen crate. Her left hand curls around a throwing knife. Her eyes halt on the roegadyn's pugilist arms.

No wounds. I don't think I can take both of them... 

The hyur stands and confronts her with unusual calm. She scans him for a weapon as he speaks. She barely hears him through her frenzy, aside from his final threat. In her state, she takes it as a threat, gold eyes opening wide in anger.

Let's see what you can do.

Swiftly, but roughly rather than gracefully, she hurls two knives toward him. She leans forward, and sprints toward him, body close to the ground, and another knife primed to slash upward in the direction of his throat.

He doesn't try to dodge. He would let the knives hit, both in his arms. He wouldn't move or make a sound. When she's upon him he would make a grab for her weapon, to clasp the blade in a gloved hand. The other hand would launch towards her head. If he succeeds, he will have her forehead in a vice grip...
All this, assuming his Roegadyn companion wouldn't think faster... 

((Forum rp is tough for high tension. Hope I'm doing ok. 
If he grabs her head and gets away with it, something weird will probably happen to her which I would definitely need to explain, but I'll just inch this ahead a few split seconds and see what you guys wanna do about it XD))

Kestlona only has a second to call out a warning to the hyur before the throwing knives find new homes in the man's arms.  "Twelve!" she curse.  She moves, jamming her weapons on her hands.  "Ya fool," she said, "ya trying ta kill yaself."

Even as the hyur reaches for the knife, she's launching a fist into her side, while trying to keep an eye on him.

(I'm find with what you might have plan.  Sorry if this is rush, posting at work.)

((Hey! I'm alright with anything short of instant death. Go ahead and run with it! Sorry for the delay—I was driving for the last hour or so.))

The miqo'te attempts to rip her blade arm from the hyur's grasp when she feels the searing crunch of a pugilist's knuckles against her ribcage. 

She violently attempts to wriggle out from between them when the heel of a palm suddenly blocks her vision and her forehead is secured in a vice grip. 

Her free hand reaches up to wildly scratch and grab for the man's long hair but she visibly struggles for air and strength after the firm blow to her side.

Blood rolls down Khy's injured arm, limp at his side. The other is raised, firmly latched upon the Miqo'te girl's head. His fingers press deeply into her scalp. Even as the pugilist slams the assailant, Khy's grip is held fast. Not once did the man make a sound, any hint of emotion on his face. There's just nothing.

"Don't hurt her, ma'am." He urges to the Roegadyn. "...Let me handle this."

He looks down at the Miqo'te girl's face.

"You're sleepy." He murmurs, his voice dull and dreamlike. "Your mind is going blank."

Should the mind-mage's strange magic work... the Miqo'te will find a strange buzzing in her head, a warmth spreading from one end of her scalp to the other, seeping into her skull.  She will find her mind, perhaps against her will, clearing itself... as if she were falling asleep.

"Now... where is your will to fight?" A voice would permeate through her thoughts, if the mage was successful in getting this far. He was looking for something. An intruder in her head. "I don't think you need that, now... do you?"

He was looking for a memory. Where did she learn how to fight? Where did she learn the means to wield a blade against strangers? If he could just find that memory, and take it out of her head... then she wouldn't be a threat at all...

Would she?

((Definitely going to incorporate this memory loss as soon as I can into my RP in-game. What a great concept!))

Nhalki's blind rage sparks fiercely as an unfamiliar sensation creeps across her scalp. She shudders, and suddenly can't discern whether her left arm has ceased its frustrated clawing due to exhaustion or something else. Her tail's fur stands on end when she hears the hyur's voice echo as her own thoughts would.

"You're sleepy."

"Your mind is going blank."

"Now... where is your will to fight?"

"I don't think you need that, now... do you?"

What remains of her consciousness clings angrily to lucidity. It struggles against this foreign voice as if it were an unwelcome thought or nightmare. Beyond her thoughts, her emaciated form sinks toward the road. She can just barely smell the heavy rain that continues to soak the road, the muddy chocobos and the richly fragrant fish.

The concrete images tied to these scents abruptly mingle with an overwhelmingly vivid memory...

"This be how ye pick one out, Ki."

The spirited voice of a teenaged girl. The scene shows dusk setting over a trail that winds through green and golden fields and shallow valleys. The vantage barely can see over the tall grass and directly in the field of vision two tiny, dirty hands grip an already-bloodied tomahawk. 

Eyes turn to look up at a tall, beautiful Sea Wolf girl crouched a fulm away: wavy, black hair swept behind an ear and silver eyes focused across the plain to the road below. The girl presses a full-sized bhuj against the grass below, hiding it from view as she kneels down to whisper.

"The Crows'll always travel in pairs, ye see. See the archer? Aye. If ye can crack 'is skull 'afore the other gets a chance to charge us, the battle's good as won. Aim fer it, just like ye would one o' them toad's great big eyeballs. Just like I showed ye."

A warm smile accompanies these instructions as the roegadyn lass looks directly to the tomahawk's holder. With a reassuring nod and grin, the girl grips the handle of her bhuj and motions for the viewer to attack the pair of pirates that seem to be patrolling the road below their position. What ensues is the bloody, ungainly slaughter of the pirates and the ensuing feast of stolen rations.

An incredible sense of affection permeates this memory, for a moment. It then begins to slip away, detail by detail. Somewhere in the depths of I'nhalki's consciousness there is an urgent, dire sense of panic. The minutest of minute wisps of aether vainly pushes back against whatever magic the hyur employs.