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**Unnamed Mercenary** · **08-08-2015, 05:06 PM**

((small snippet from a thread post))

His living conditions in Ishgard arranged, all that was left was to reply to Kageâ€™s letter. There was not much to mention. Thankfully the inn could parchment and ink that wouldnâ€™t freeze while writing.

Quote:You can find me in Ishgard now, Kage.

I do not know know who this Dâ€™ly is and have not moved your chocobo. Do such yourself.

I have no plans to speak with that family. It is better that way.

-Franz

Nameless Warrior · **08-09-2015, 02:02 AM**

(Disclaimer: Violence and gore)

Heâ€™d watched the patrols for suns, patiently stalking his prey and observing the behaviors of Gridaniaâ€™s Wood Wailers. They never once suspected that they were being hunted, eventually an individual had caught his eye. One of the Wailers briefly broke away from his partners during the patrol, slipping through the brush unseen. He met with an Elezen that seemed to be affiliated with the bandits known as the Redbellies, words were traded along with a scroll and a pouch of gil.

A sinister smile crossed his lips, The Viper had been correct in her assertion of the Wailers, corruption had even taken root here within Gridania. It mattered little to him now though, heâ€™d found his prey, and all he needed to do was wait.

A week passed, and each sun he stalked his intended mark, learning about him. Wailer Stephannot Gerson was his name, he was no rookie; having joined just after Dalamudâ€™s fall, he was careful and methodical, abilities apt for the life of a traitor. Today was the next intended meeting with the bandit contact, and it was this day that his luck was about to run out.

Bells later, Wailer Gerson separated from his patrol as expected; he carried with him the details and routes of the next weekâ€™s patrols. This arrangement had allowed him to live a more comfortable lifestyle, certainly more so than the average wailer of his rank.

He pushed away the brush and expected to see his contact waiting for him at the tree theyâ€™d designated, what he found was something much more horrifying. The body of whom he could only presume was his contact lie crumpled in the brush, reduced to a pile of gore amidst the foliage painted in hues of red.

Wailer Gersonâ€™s jaw dropped, and his heart rate quickened as he tried to take a step back and return to his patrol. Heâ€™d hoped to escape whatever had done this, but it was too late. He was grabbed from behind and shoved forward, his face slammed into the tree, a trickle of blood ran freely from a fresh cut upon his cheek mixing with that of his accomplice.

He tried to resist, tried to cry out, but he was quickly beset upon again. A metal clad hand constricted around his mouth reducing his voice to little more than muffled screams. Searing pain promptly followed as a blade found its way into his back, puncturing his diaphragm and lungs.

Void energy flowed down the arm of the armored figure and through the blade into his victim. It would not take long for the voidlings carried by the energy to establish themselves within the new host and begin to feed upon his aether. They would halt his ability to be healed via conjury, and in turn spread via aether to any conjuror that made an attempt to heal the infected man.

The attacker leaned in as he pulled the blade out and stabbed his victim again in the liver. The muffled cries of the man reduced to whimpers. â€œPrey, if you are fast, and your patrol manages to get you a conjuror before you bleed out, they might just be able to save you.â€

When the attacker pulled the blade out and released his grip, Gerson dropped to his knees amidst the carnage, crippled by his own agonizing pain. Turning slowly, as his assailant disappeared into the wilderness behind him like a ghost, he could feel the warmth of the blood that ran down his back. A tingling numbness had begun to take hold, as he pushed himself to his feet and staggered back to his patrol as quickly as he could, calling for their help.

The assailant moved through the brush with the practiced steps of a hunter leaving little trace of his passing. Gerson would be dead soon, Gridaniaâ€™s conjurors would attempt to heal him and fail, becoming infected in the process themselves. They would spread the voidlings to others and soon, it would be too late. His passing would mark the beginning of the outbreak of the infection in Gridania.

The assailant reached within his coat and removed a spherical device, he noted the message on its glassy surface "Them finding me will not bode well... for anyone. Otherwise, do as you will." He smiled wickedly beneath his helm and made his way to his steed. It seemed he would be returning to Ishgard sooner than expected.

Melodia · **08-11-2015, 08:48 AM**

Today was the day. Melodia stood upon the bone spire that rose high near Bronze Lake. The air crackled with lightning and the rain had made herÂ a mess, but she didn't care. She was thankful for the raindrops that washed away and masked her tears, the storm covering her quiet sobs. She stood at the tip of the curved spire and looked out at the landscape lit brightly on occasion by the flash of lightning, marveling at its beauty and hating herself all at the same time.

Faces flashed before her in her mind. People let down, others who'd left her, others who seemingly ignored or forgot about her.

The first step is the hardest....it gets easier afterward. Her own inner voice spoke softly.

Her right foot slid forward and she closed her eyes. Her lips mouthed the words but no sound came, "I'm sorry." The thunderclap hid the scuffle sound as her foot slipped off the tip and suddenly her body was falling, the feeling slower than she imagined it would be. And she remembered so much all at once.

The loneliness. Her marriages. Her infidelity. The counseling job. She'd been a Yellowjacket. And she'd been a pirate. A damn good one. She had-

It's time mommy.

Her eyes flashed open as she heard the child miqo'te speak and just as suddenly her world went dark as her body slammed to the ground.

**************************************************************

Â Two Moons After....

"Oy! 'Nother round here. Same's b'fore." The woman with the long black hair and clad in a black leather jacket and boots tossed some coin onto the bar and slid her empty mug to the barkeep, who took it with a nod and moved to refill it. The woman sighed and looked at her wrist with a puzzled expression before she slipped it off. Her eyes looked at it curiously as though it were foreign to her. On the inside it had an engraving which she squinted to see, and read it slowly.

"Your name is Melodia. You are a pirate. Try not to forget."

She said the words softly and felt her eyes going wide. "Melodia...me name's Melodia." The mug of refilled ale was set before her and the barkeep chuckled. "Aye you told me thatÂ earlier." He walked back to the other end shaking his head and she lookedÂ at the bracelet, slowly placing it back on, her stomach feeling heavy as she didn't remember telling him that at all. Her lips mouthed the words, but no sound came.

"Melodia. Pirate....Melodia."

Kellach Woods · **08-12-2015, 07:02 PM**

Before Ishgard opened its gates to all who sought to enter, actually setting foot in Ishgard was a feat known only to smugglers and citizens. Many attempted to go beyond the gates yet were rebuffed for not being pious enough, or not having the requisite rights. Even today, you are more likely to get rebuffed and executed for impiety than actually entering the city.

Being what Ishgard natives would consider a heretic, and not willing to deal with any sort of illegal activity in order to make it into Ishgard, Kellach Woods was wracking his brain in the Twelveswood, more specifically, in the North Shroud, while his steed, the ephemeral Phantom, was busy pecking at a bunch of gysahl greens his partner had set out for him. He was using his axe as a sort of footstool in order to look beyond, to see if there was anything of notice.

Phantom perked up and immediately started nudging Kell, pointing ever towards the west. Not knowing exactly what the creature had in mind, he shrugged and mounted the chocobo. Phantom seemed to know where it wanted to go, and Kell, ever the wanderer, did not exactly question the desires of his mount - Phantom came and went as he wanted, and Kell was merely a passenger that the bird did not mind ferrying over great distances.

It zoomed faster than what Kell thought possible, going alongside the western coast of Eorzea, finding ways through the cliffs and rough paths that had long been abandoned since the self-exile of Sharlayans returning to their island. Not wanting to deter his mount's enthusiasm, he scarcely dug his boots in beyond steering it away from less than obvious obstacles.

Eventually, after running over several malms, Phantom was tired and night fell. As Kell prepared the fire, he looked at the stars to try and locate where he ended up, only to find that he had absolutely no idea how to navigate, whether land or sea, using astronomy. Worse still, he did not even have the tools for that. The night was peaceful, the silent breathing of Phantom being a soothing sound for the otherwise weary traveler. He thought he was heading towards Coerthas, but the climate was far too warm for this to be anywhere near it.

For days and nights, they traveled like this until they stumbled onto some ruins, and subsequently, a goblin. Kellach jumped off Phantom, patting it on the head as the goblin began to get agitated.

"Is you friendly uplander? Dimwix not see anyone, gobbiefriend or gobbiefoe, in days! What brings uplander to lands?" it said, just happy that someone had shown up.

"Um, well, I was letting Phantom, this chocobo here, lead me where it will. I don't exactly recognize where we are, though..."

"Oh! Birdmount guide? Dimwix never heard of birdmounts being guides. Or birdmounts having names. Is uplander lost?"

"No, well, lost would assume I had any idea on where to go! Though I'd sure like to know where I am." Kell answered, while Phantom was pacing frantically.

"Hm... Village of uplanders in dragonforest to northeast! Go there, uplanders may be uplanderfriends! Dimwix not know if they are gobbiefriends, but surely they help!"

With a frantic wave, Kell waved off Dimwix as they continued scrounging the remainder of the ruins. Two days later, the unlikely duo had made it to the Chocobo Forest, and the truth of Phantom's mad dash was revealed as he bucked his rider off a few hundred yalms, in sight of another chocobo which it went to "Kweh!" and "Wark!" around. Readjusting his mask, Kell could only sigh. His chocobo's thirst had brought him to unknown lands.

He soon found Tailfeather, the encampment that Dimwix had been referring to as a village, and from there, he found that he was past the Gates of Judgement, just... very far from Ishgard. Thanking the chocobo hunters, also warning them about Phantom's loose partnership with himself, he readjusted his gear, verifying the mechanisms of his daggers, and left towards the inhospitable frigid western highlands of Coerthas... in nothing but a belly shirt, a mask and what looked like a long skirt.

Berrod Armstrong · **08-14-2015, 10:29 AM**

Show Content

The First Chakra
The Second Chakra
The Third Chakra
The Fifth Chakra
The Sixth Chakra
Grasping the Chakras
Monkhood and Balance

Berrod Armstrong · **08-14-2015, 10:44 AM**

Show Content

Aaron · **08-14-2015, 11:01 AM**

Aaron sat in his inn room by himself. . . the now medium sized wolf puppy he'd saved long ago sleeping silently across the room next to the giant sword he'd recently acquired. The black furred creature looked so peaceful. . . while Aaron sat at the desk, garbed in all black as he usually was. . . he'd take a piece of parchment out from the drawer and a quill and start writing. . .

"Dear Mom,

It's been so long since we've talked. . . and even longer since I've seen my father. . . but I guess being in the Maelstorm does that to some people. . . anyway I know this letter is long overdue but I. . . figured I should finally write back to you. . . Your little crybaby of a son has grown up a lot in some aspects (mainly physical) but still is a child mentally I hear. . .

First I'd like to say that you shouldn't worry. . . Aleria made it to me safely. .. I've been making sure no one messes with her, even then she's made quite a few friends already judging by how much she talks my ear off when we do talk. I let her look after Fenrir when I'm gone a lot, oh yeah. . . forgot to tell you I got a puppy, well, had a puppy. . . he's a little too big to still be called a pup. . Aleria and Fenrir seem to get along a lot, sometimes I think he prefers her even. Yeah, I'm still a negative thinker to an extent, I've always been like that. . Â but I'm trying to change. . . I really am.Â

When I first got here, ever since you left for the far east. . . I was hell on Hydaelyn. I got into a fight almost everyday in the tavern, I drunk non stop and almost died of alcohol poisoning several times over. . . I felt as if everyone hated my guts because I was so volatile and stupid. . . but you know me. . . I didn't care, kept that same old don't give a damn attitude which only made my reputation worse. . . even to this day I'm still cleaning up my first impressions I've made on people. . . but deep down. . . I feel like people will always be waiting for the day I pick a fight again and wound up killing someone. Just so they can lock me away. Maybe I'm being too depressing. I told you I'm trying to change. . . I haven't touched a alcohols drink in ages. . . I generally avoid fighting. . . and I even try to crack a joke every now and then, no matter how lame it may be. I also lost my accent growing up in Limsa. . . and I don't miss it to be honest. Was getting tired of sounding like a reject.

And I've made quite a few friends also, some through ways you wouldn't even imagine. Weird right? That crybaby kid from your years in LA Noscea now has a bunch of friends and even a bit of popularity around Ul'Dah. . . ain't that something? And I got to working for a new Free Company called Astral Agents. It's led by a big Highlander guy who I met in the dumbest way possible. We had got to fighting ages ago and needless to say he kicked my ass. . after that I guess we sorta just gained respect for each other and eventually he let me in his business. We fought again later and he still beat my ass but I did a lot better this time. Managed to get him on the ground one good time at least if anything. . .

There's also this Au Ra lately named flower who stays on my case about "holding back" at Grindstone. . . probably because she noticed lately I've been getting my ass handed to me a lot when I used to be so determined to win. Guess after you deal with hearing people bloodied and beaten all day you kinda lose all motivation to get into a scrap and try. Oh well. . .

There's a lot more I want to talk about in this letter but I'd have sent you a novel by then off all the stuff and things I've did and experienced. We'll save that for another time. Just wanted to say me and little sis are doing just fine. Hope you come back and visit us again one day when you're done doing whatever you were doing.

Your white haired son,

Aaron Frostheart

P.S. - When you get back I'm probably gonna start crying again. You'll just have to deal with it like you always doÂ

Berrod Armstrong · **08-21-2015, 09:41 AM**

Show Content

The First Chakra
The Second Chakra
The Third Chakra
The Fourth Chakra
The Sixth Chakra
Grasping the Chakras
Monkhood and Balance

Berrod Armstrong · **08-21-2015, 09:53 AM**

"Vitala. Here you must gather your anger. Here you must gather your resentment toward all those in this world who have wronged you. All you have done is your best, and all your life, this world has sought to strike you down. No one is exempt save your self. You are not to blame. They are. And so, gather this fury into your thighs, and unlock the seat of power that lies there. Let it guide your legs and arms to lay your enemies low. Take vengeance for the havoc that they have wrought upon your livelihood. Do so in the name of your blameless place in this world. You have your orders, Gerdtrid. Carry them out."

"Yes, Master."

Aaron · **08-21-2015, 11:58 AM**

(This is really a pasting of a Skype rp between me and my roomate that we do since we cant be in game at the same time)

Aaron sat alone in his room yet again, the dim lit atmosphere barely letting enough light in to see him lounging in the corner. He'd look towards Aleria as she sat across from him, legs crossed and would watch as his puppy ran up and jumped into her lap. A slightly annoyed look etched itself across his face. "So you're stealing my dog now? Fascinating." He scoffed rolling his eyes.

Aleria chuckled smiling brightly as she began to stroke the dog behind the ears gingerly. Her voice soft yet profound. "Maybe if you stopped leaving him with me so often he'd be more attached to you! He's supposed to be your pet not your liability!" She frowned before nuzzling the puppy again. "Who's a good boy!? Yes you are!" She spoke to the dark colored animal before looking up towards her older brother once more. "Anyways what did you want to talk about? It's rare you actually call me let alone let me know your room to talk." Her voice curiously rose.

Aaron would look at her puzzlingly, a soft exasperated sigh escaping his thin pale lips. "Can I. . . can I not just see how my sisters doing every now and then? Tch." He shook his head.Â

Aleria suddenly scoffed. "Oh my god all I did was ask a question and here you go becoming a smartass to me." She threw her hands up and stood up after placing the puppy on the floor. Her pale white skin hair and eyes almost glowing in the dim light. "Like why are you so freaking moody all the time?" She questioned jerking a gloved finger at the man.

Aaron looked up at her bewildered. "Moody? You assumed I called you here because of something important, can I not just ask how my little sisters day is going without there being a need to relay some life or death matter? If anyone was jumping the gun it was you." Aaron rolled his eyes as he spoke and canted his head off to the side. "Whatever forget it." He waved a hand dismissively. "Do what you want, bye."

Aleria fell silent, as if she felt kinda bad all of a sudden. She'd walk up to Aaron, and then kneel down in front of him. Waiting for a reaction.

Aaron just avoided looking at her. "I said you can go, forget I even called you here." He said solemnly.

Aleria attempted to hug her big brother in a full on embrace.

Aaron was hugged and completely caught off guard! His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat from the sudden hug. ". . . what are you doing? Get off me!" He said trying to free himself.

Aleria giggled and released her brother, patting him on the head and standing up before she turned tail and walked to the door. "I love you too big bro!" She teased opening the door. "Bye little puppy! I'll come get you some other time." She said finally walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Aaron sat alone with the dog now for a long and quiet eon apparently. Before he suddenly smiled just slightly and laughed. "Love you too sis."

Jancis · **08-26-2015, 05:43 PM**

Across the land streamers of vibrant purple and bronze as hung in clusters near bonfire pits.Â

Alongside the other festivities bonfires blaze in the night, lighting up the metallic tones of the dancing ribbons. By both of them, trinkets and old items have been scattered around them; some are discarded for others to pick up, others thrown and burnt to ashes in the fire.

Cheering pilgrims and locals blow horns and make a racket when some bit of old sentiment is thrown in, calls for the Destroyer and releasing from strength-sapping bonds echoing in the late evening and night.

Around Ul'dah in particular other shrines are put up; the majestic resemblance to the white griffon and blue sword of Gyr Abania is kept in small decorations. Brass Blades seem more friendly than usual with an extra jingle in their pocket as they look the other way this Moon at the little setups.

Pilgrims dress in thin comfortable clothes for staying out in the desert in summer, or enjoy the bustle of the Jewel as they make their way to Little Ala Mhigo.Â

The bell tolls at Rhalgr's stone soon, pilgrims.Â

cuideag · **08-31-2015, 12:25 AM**

The door closed behind her, set back into place by the weight of the body that remained leaning against it. Delial allowed herself to slump just slightly, sighing loud enough that she could have been heard had anyone been waiting immediately outside. Someone suggested it as an exercise before, that she might clear her mind and relax her spirit after a particularly trying event. It rarely ever worked.

It took them far too long to fish for anyone who held even a passing interest with speaking with them, and then that was swiftly sabotaged by a lunatic with an enormous sword. They were left with three dead bodies but upon reflection Delial began to wish for the fourth: the last of their contacts had gotten away maimed and terrified, and she would be surprised if he had not been telling his peers and others in the Brume to be wary of a group of foreigners with gil and questions moving with a dark skinned highlander woman. Given what she had seen of the populace so far, it would not be difficult for anyone to make the connection to her. Even Kiryuu had been met with open suspicion, and no doubt a lalafell with a white beret and a large axe would be difficult to miss despite his stature.

Delial counted one, two, three, and pushed off to stride across the room. At Kiryuu's insistence they had shared the room, albeit briefly. His generosity was unnerving at times, and she could not quite figure if it was an attempt to make right the slights once inflicted by his then partner in the Sultansworn. She hardly saw him at the inn regardless: her hours were intentionally tuned to be opposite his, that she might have privacy during his waking hours and that might have his during hers. It was simpler that way and he did not complain. Nor did she complain when he moved his things out and took another room elsewhere in the Knight, citing concerns for safety. That the girl's death bothered him was plain, for Kage Kiryuu was not very good at masking his worries.

Early on she had laid claim to the armoire and it was there that she stopped. Her wardrobe shrunk considerably since departing Limsa Lominsa but she still had a few things worth keeping safe. The heavy wood creaked open at her touch and she withdrew something nearly as tall as her, carefully wrapped in burlap and twine. She had hardly touched it since Windsoul and his friends helped her retrieve it from a cursed burrow deep beneath the Shroud. That it was even there to begin with was a travesty and insult, one that she wondered if Hrathi even knew.

The pitiful tome she had relied on for most of her time in Eorzea laid on the bed beside the ones Kiryuu brought with him: studies on aether and the nature of fire, plucked from the shelves of the Ossuary. She gave her prize a few quick tugs and twists, letting its wrappings fall to the floor as she turned to cross it again, and laid that down as well: a black staff of uncertain make, smooth like steel but light as wood. She remembered how it seemed to hum in the Witch's hands, how the black coils and curves seemed to shine in oily shades of emerald and heliotrope.

The girl's neck snapped like a twig in the warrior's hands. Surely she knew she had slim chance of walking away and she put up a surprising fight when it became apparent that the ruse was not quite good enough. Her strikes and blows combined with Delial's spells hardly even made the man flinch. Killing the man would have been the better option than letting him run free but that was clearly beyond their capabilities. It was only a matter of time, Delial was certain, before he ceased to be amused by them. Sooner or later, his blade would be at their throats.

It was her birthright, her key to a power she had not even the decency to devote herself to in her youth when still she had teachers willing to put up with her delinquency. "There is fire in your veins," the Witch was always fond of reminding her though she rolled her eyes and dismissed her wisdom. The staff laid there before her dull and silent, the orb that crowned holding a particular shade of cold grey better suited to tombstones and crypts.

Useless.

Berrod Armstrong · **09-03-2015, 03:14 PM**

The following story contains a bit of non-explicit IMPLIED SAUCIFICATIONS. Do not read it if references to adult fun times is not your thing.

Show Content

Spoiler

Berrod Armstrong's back hit the rug with a light thud that was mostly drowned out by the chorus of deep and heavy panting. He couldn't help the way in which he pulled air into his lungs and released it in exerted bursts -- nor could the short-haired man next to him. They laid there, side by side, upon a rug in front of a fireplace; Berrod and Caden Agron. Sweat drenched them, among other results of the activities the two had just engaged in. The only light came from the fire itself; it glistened orange upon their wet skin. Berrod's thick thigh still remained entwined with Caden's, even as his heart thundered in his chest.

It had been a bit of a risky endeavour, doing what they had done in that location. The basement floor of the Free Company house was quite open to all, and there were very few hours when activity in and out of the area ceased. That night was one such night when they found a window of opportunity. They'd both come home to meet the place dark and shut up for the day, with notices from the two Hyur at staff that they would resume operations in the morning. After a brief inspection of the ground and basement floors, Berrod lit a fire in the lounging area downstairs and sat upon the rug to enjoy some conversation with Caden. One thing led to another, and the rug became the grounds for their carnal indulgences.

The Agron turned his head to the red-haired highlander and idly lashed at his stomach with the back of his hand. It elicited a turn of Berrod's head, complete with a gruff, exhausted chuckle. The toothy grin on his face quickly vanished as he caught a shadow of hasty movement on the staircase that led up to the ground floor. With only the dying light of the fire, he could make out nothing more than a hyur sized silhouette.

Berrod sat bolt upright and tapped Caleb's thigh twice with his fist. The other Highlander frowned and rose a bit more slowly, scanning the direction to which his lover's gaze was affixed.

"Don't bother runnin'. I done saw ya," Berrod called loudly and boldly, "An' I can catch up wit' ya before y'reach either o'the doors." He gave a pause of consideration. "Come on out. If yer peekin' in y'coulda at least done it right."

Caden leveled him with an exasperated look; obviously the black haired Highlander would have preferred to allow their voyeur his or her freedom. Yet, he didn't protest. Instead, he simply reached across the rug for his trousers. Berrod on the other hand, stood up, quite in the raw, drenched and reeking of the night's indulgence.

"Don' make me come up there," came the final warning.

The shadowed figure reappeared with sluggish motion that spoke plainly of an burden of horrified embarrassment -- and perhaps a fear for their life. It lingered on the stairwell like some sort of terrified animal.

Berrod gave an impatient, snorting grunt. "Well, come closer, you was peekin' before so this ain't nothin' you ain't done seen. Makes no sense playin' shy now." As if to make matters worse, the red-head set his hands on his hips and stood in proud display -- one that may not have been as intentional as it looked. Caden had already pulled on the trousers, having already decided that he'd just leave Berrod to his whims.

With a whimper the shadow slinked down the stairs and drew close enough for the muddied orange light of the fire to wash them into dim release. It was a Highlander fellow -- blond, somewhat short and slender, but no less sturdy than the rest of his kin. He was young -- could not be more than nineteen summers in age. His blue eyes stared at anything but Berrod's direction; an unconvincing display.

Berrod on the other hand made a sharp sound of recognition. "...Bolie?"

Bolieron Stonesthrow was the son of an Ala Mhigan refugee, born into ragged poverty in the piss-stinking alley of Pearl Lane. He was a few years younger than Berrod and a bit...slighter and less prone to doing what it took to survive out on the streets. Berrod had never paid much mind to him; he was too busy trying to find food for himself and those around him to focus on protecting a weakling. As time passed and the red-haired Highlander rose from poverty into decent living, he reached out to the youngster and offered him employment in the form of retainership. Only recently had the young man expressed an interest in mining and Gladiatorial combat, and was clearly seen practicing with weathered weapons and tools.

At that moment however, he stood before his bare employer, staring with intense focus at a portion of the wall. He was dressed for bed; a loose shirt and slops, all colored as white as his pallid, terrified mein. "Yessir," Came the meek response.

Berrod was taken aback for a moment -- he had planned out a cruel punishment for their voyeur, but he knew that he had a soft spot for the lad -- regardless of if he'd ever admit it or not. At that point he even slightly regretted not putting something on. Still, it wouldn't do. Berrod was the one who caught him; who knows how many other people he had been peeking in on? Granted, the basement rug was...not exactly the place for an encounter usually reserved for privacy. With an internal gnashing of his teeth, the redhead pressed on. "I suppose it's our own fault we got caught down here, but yer still gonna pay." His tone was serious; almost malicious. A bit of guilt struck him as he saw how much paler the poor boy got.

"So, yer gonna be the one ta clean this rug in the mornin'. Make sure it's scrubbed good as new and ain't stinkin' o'fun times." Berrod folded his arms. "That, an' yer gonna keep an ear out for anyone who's havin' a good time on this rug in the dead o'night -- we know we ain't the only ones, we ain't stupid -- an' clean the rug every time that happens. S'part of the job now. Got that?"

It was a cruel and unfair sentence, but Bolie nodded in obedient terror. "Yessir."

"Look me in the eye, Bolie, not like you wasn't gettin' a eyeful quarter bell ago."

With a monumental effort, he managed to let blue meet green. "Yessir."

"Now go on, get some sleep. Y'got a busy day t'morrow."

The younger Highlander brooked no delay in pelting off at top speed, vanishing into the dark and up the stairway. He didn't even bother to close the Private Chamber hall door quietly. It slammed like a firesand explosion. Berrod sighed and shook his head. "Stupid kid. Least we got somebody ta clean the rug now."

Caden got to his feet with a bundle of clothes in his hand, half of which he shoved into Berrod's chest. "Yer too tough on 'um," He commented with mild disapproval, "Just a curious kid is all. Now put those on before ye poke somebodyâ€™s eye out."

Avenio Naemig · **09-07-2015, 04:47 PM**

(( Disclaimer: Discretion for mild expletives, violence, gore.))

The Xaela clan known as Buduga is identified - and sometimes dreaded - for its unique look on proliferation.Â They recruit only males, and therefore cannot produce more members sexually.Â Instead, to swell their ranks they will resort to kidnapping and brainwashing, either ignoring or slaughtering the remaining souls that do not stand up to their arbitrary inspection.Â Oftentimes there will be recruitment raids, generally comprised of a cadre of specially trained Au Ra who will descend upon a settlement and either raze it to the ground, or operate covertly.Â Either way they will strip the town of all males deemed fit, or die trying.

During one such raid over a decade in the past, the Buduga descended upon a Xaela encampment of the Himaa tribe, known primarily for the strangely common trait of multiple births.Â The attack was swift and merciless, exacted with near-surgical precision.

Screams and shouts permeated the air, transforming the small camp into a bloody battlefield, yet it was hardly worthy of the title.Â The tribe's meager defense force had been the very first target, and had been quickly overwhelmed by the highly trained Buduga.Â Some of the male fighters had been clapped in irons, though the majority were slain on the spot without mercy.

In one of the nearby tarpaulin shelters, yet untouched by the carnage, a set of young boys barely approaching pubescence cowered.Â Not two or even three but four identical boys hid under blankets and stools, and could do naught but listen to the horrific noises floating through the walls and the single window.Â Shock and fear gripped the lads, suppressing them into inaction.

"Do you think they'll see us?" one dared to query of his brothers.

"Shut your mouth!" came the hissed reply, "You're going to get us found!"

"These bastards hardly seem like amateurs," mused the third as he rose to his feet from behind a dresser.

"Evan!Â Get down, you fool!Â Do you want to get killed!?" admonished the second.

"I don't think they're going to kill us," said the lad with trepidation.Â An uneasy silence followed as all three of his brothers very specifically did not voice their opinions on the matter.

The boy who had stood approached the window, ignoring the hastily whispered warnings (and then insults) floating from behind him.Â He came close enough to see his reflection in the window, and through it the view of mind-numbing violence.Â Blood ran freely through the dirt, bodies of the dead piled up, all of whom had been walking, talking, living, breathing only hours before.Â The staggering horror clawed its way through the young Au Ra's stomach, instilling in him a resentment which already festered hotly.Â His vision blurred, and refocused on the reflection.Â He, like his brothers, was coming into adulthood boldly.Â Dusky skin of rich mahogany, and hair of starless raven cut a striking figure, along with the radiant blue limbal rings.Â A perpetual frown graced the youth's face, framed by long lashes that made it easy to understand the boys' popularity in their daily lives.Â Or... their former lives.

But vanity was not what had taken the lad's attention.Â He saw with rising dread that there was a dagger poking through the canvas behind him.

Without thinking, the standing young man dashed to the back wall, to the confused cries of his brothers.Â He arrived just in time to watch it fall away, sliced into ribbons as a huge Buduga raider dropped the jagged dagger he'd used to peel open the tent.Â As soon as he spotted the lad, he grinned vibrantly from ear to ear.

It all happened so fast.Â While his brothers could do little but look on with stunned horror, the boy puffed up his chest and pointed back over the figure's shoulder, "Get the seven hell out of here!"

The raider's grin barely wavered - in fact, it only grew.Â He seemed almost proud of the youth... or was it proud of himself for his find?Â He drew a wickedly curved blade from his hip, and thumbed over his shoulder where the boy had indicated, "Sure will.Â And yer comin' with me, pipsqueak.Â Got a set 'a stones on yer, doncha?"

"Not on your life!" replied the boy, surging forward and throwing a punch towards the large man's neck.

"It's not mine that's in danger here, laddie," chuckled the raider darkly as he swatted the attack aside carelessly.Â He raised the blade then, already stained with the blood of the townspeople.Â He did not seem like the type to bluff.

But the boy did not back down.Â He launched another punch, but the raider's patience had already grown thin, and his weapon swung down to meet the second attack.Â Stunned into shock, the Au Ra youth staggered a step backwards, staring at his maimed hand as if unable to understand what had happened.Â He looked up, into the eyes of his assailant, and heard the sound more than he felt it.Â It sounded wet, and sticky, and wholly unpleasant.Â The man was grinning again.Â Then there was the sudden realization that the raider had already attacked.Â And this time, the sword had gone right through his belly.Â Both of his hands trembled as they gripped the weapon impaling him. He gasped for air that would not come.

"NEVAN!" one of the boys finally found his voice, but the display of unfettered violence had cowed him into torpor.Â The raider's grin remained, and he noted to himself to search the dwelling thoroughly.Â These Himaa camps were great for recruitment.

Yet recruitment did not await the boy who had been brave.Â With hardly a thought, as if he were simply some monster that had dove upon the sword, the raider extracted his weapon and swatted the youth upside the head, toppling him over into the growing pool of his own blood.Â His last thought before darkness came was of his mother.

Leggerless · **09-07-2015, 06:35 PM**

Elise glanced down at the map, scrutinizing the details the paper held with its black sketches and red markings. Her eyes drifted over the map towards the Shroud, landing on a spot directly south of the Redbelly Hive. She placed a hand there, touched the map with her index finger, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, exhaling just once...

She opened her eyes and found herself in the Twelveswood once more. The ambience, the air, and even the sounds of animals in the distance made the experience surreal. Sitting behind a rock, she quickly examined her gear once more. Blades, knifes, medical supplies, a book with a few geometries; all of her gear was still intact.

Peeking up from cover, she scanned the area for others nearby. Besides herself, she saw a patrol of two Redbelly archers making their rounds in the nearby area. Elise unsheathed one throwing knife from her coat and held in it her right hand. She was at a disadvantage; the enemy knew the territory better than she and they outnumbered her two to one. Her only advantage, however, was the element of surprise--Redbellies aren't used to dealing with a Rogue's tricks, and they certainly aren't expecting a lone wanderer to make an attack out of nowhere at them. Weighing her options, she stealthfully made her move across the terrain, hiding behind a tree and waiting for the Redbellies to pass by.

As planned, both archers passed by the woman without detecting her. With the chance at hand, she crept along and kept her distance for a few yalms. When both archers had turned their heads forward, she charged towards the nearest enemy, covering his mouth with her left hand and stabbing him in the right kidney with the sword in her right hand. A muffled yelp was given for half a second, but the other archer kept walking ahead unaware. When her first target stopped struggling, she darted eastwards into another bush to get out of sight.

The other archer took a few more steps but stopped, muttering to himself a few words. He slowly turned around and saw his dead companion on the ground. For the archer still alive, what was supposed to be another daily patrol became a life or death situation. Drawing his bow he prepared himself for combat, occasionally rotating while pacing towards the dead corpse to avoid another ambush. The moment he kneeled down next to the man, Elise made her move and appeared from the bush. The rustling of the leaves made the archer turn around, quicking taking an arrow and almost firing his bow in the direction of the sound... but it was too late. Elise stood behind the man with the small knife in her hand and made a stab at his left temple. The shock and sudden surge of pain paralyzed the man into letting out a quick gasp, stopping him from yelling for help. Pulling the blade out from his head, blood spouted out for a brief moment and soon turned to a slow, steady stream.

Her targets were down on the ground and the mission was done. She glanced around the area and darted off once more towards the trees, taking cover. Seating herself on the ground she pulled out a small cloth to wipe the blood off her blade and sheathed the weapon again. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and finally relaxed once again...

Eyes opened once more, she kept her hand pointed at the spot on the map before returning to her scrutinization. She lets out half of a sigh.

"At least the map will prove useful when I roam Eorzea." She lets out half a smirk. "Even the finer details are sketched so nicely..."

Rolling up the map, she pockets it back within her coat and soon heads out the door. It was time to do another job as Lynx.

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