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Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Printable Version

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Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 08-28-2016

(Following will be entries relating to Tray'Ju's exploits. Please enjoy!)

Entry 1:

I've been carrying this empty journal around now for, what, two years? Two cycles already...damn. Just realized its already been that long. Yet days feel so long each.  It's mind blowing really. To think, two years ago already.  Feels like a dream. But everything has of late. And not just cause of the drugs. Though those are aiding this dream sensation.

I mean, here I sit, sober for the first time in weeks. I'm missing two teeth, my tail is broken, and I've got two stab wounds. I have almost no coin coin to my name and I can't stop the muscle twitches. Yet all I want is more of that damn drug.  I want it.

Writing this down, these thoughts, this is strange. Like I'm talking to someone else. Like I'm getting outside of my head at long last. Seeing myself objectively. And...I'm not enjoying it.  Sober and self reflective?

It's a bad combo.

I hate it.  I can't stop thinking. Thinking of the fire. I keep seeing Tessra and her screams keep echoing in my head.  I need the drugs. I need to stop the screaming. I

I just had a break down, had a break down. Snapped. Had to stop writing. Fucking Brass Blades keeping me here. I -need- my drug. I need to stop the screaming.

But it's that drug that landed me in the fucking cell in the first place.  It's karma maybe? Two years ago I walked into this city ready to find Tessra's killers.  I was gonna avenge her. Now look at me. I'm smuggling drugs, selling it, and hooked on my own Twelve damn supply. Broke rules one through seventy right there.

My own damn fault. Got cocky. Got greedy. Got caught up in the city. I deserve this I suppose. Maybe this is Tessra getting back at me for all the whores. I dunno. I got urges and-

I'm just not the same miqo'te that came into this city. I'm not. And if I'm not careful I'm gonna end up dead in a gutter.  Bleeding Boar is gonna be waiting for me once I get out of here. Brass Blades are easily bought off. But he's gonna wring my neck if I can't get him that shipment back.

Gonna be a hell of a time.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 08-30-2016

Entry 2:


Well, here I am again. Recording in this thing.

Events have gone, well, basically as I suspected.  Sure I'm not in that cell. But part of me wishes I was. 

My bail was paid by a 'mysterious donor'.  The Brass Blades dragged me out and took me to an alley.

And, lo and behold, who is there to greet me?

Bleeding Boar himself. Tricorn hat and all

Oh we had a fun time.  He knocked out two of my teeth, cracked a vertebra in my tail, broke my nose, and a few ribs too.  Such a swell guy

All things considered though, I got off easy.

Sort of.

The ass looted my store house, so my supply of somus is gone and almost all the gil to my name with it.  See, this is why I need to stop tying up all of my monetary gains in physical investments.

Anyhow, Boar has me owing him the cost of the shipment still.  And I've got a moon to come up with it.  Fucking ass. Pretty sure he's the one who tipped the Brass Blades off in the first place.  Heard he liked setting himself up with a legion of people indebted to him for profit. Just didn't buy it at first. Should have.  Man's got himself more assassins and goons than one can shake a stick at.

He left me bleeding in the alley and, thankfully, Doc still runs her aether clinic down in Pearl Lane.  Patched me up and all she wanted in payment was a romp after.  About the -only- good part of this whole, miserable weak. I'm sure her husband wouldn't agree but, eh, their marriage issues aren't my problem.

But now I've got to figure out who needs stuff smuggled, and fast.  I've got one moon to pay of Boar, but I still have my other debts after all. Thankfully got a few people who owe me favors. So I'll need to call them in. Hopefully next entry I write in this, it'll have something positive.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 08-31-2016

Entry 3:




I'm a dead man. I'm so fucking dead.

I just -had- to take this job. I, boy, was this a mistake.

Okay, get your brain in order Tray, get this down and THINK.

I managed to get a hit for a job through, Frandrin.  Someone Frandrin knew needed a smuggler, a good one, for a hells of a job, and Frandrin said it paid REALLY well. Frandrin couldn't take the job due to his issues with some vigilante group breathing down his neck, but set me up for the job. The money from this job could set me up proper with Bleeding Boar.

Should have been red flag number one. If anything is too good to be true, it always is.

Frandrin set up the meeting in Limsa.

Nothing seemed off at first.  I met them last night after sundown.

It was a small warehouse in Limsa. Nothing unusual or suspect.  They had two guards at the door. Two massive hyurs.  Something about them was off, but at the time I didn't put two and two together.  I told them who I was and one of the brutes went and got what I have to assume now is the ring leader.  He came out a few moments later.  He was thinner and more angular than the brutes but he didn't looked pleased at seeing me. 

He and I talked for a few moments.  He had wanted Fandrin -specifically- but I explained to the man that Fandrin had some issues of his own and that he couldn't make the run; but I had been sent specifically by Fandrin and that I was good for the job.

I handed over the letter Frandrin had given me. The hyur read carefully.  Thinking back on it now, the letter wasn't in written in Eorzean. That should have been flag two.  Flag three should have been Frandrin's admitted Imperial sympathies, but, again, all I was thinking about was gil.

So, at last, the hyur made his decision, though he was clearly still agitated as he held the door open for me. 

We entered the building. First thing I noticed was how much it smelt like tobacco.  The place was almost pungent.  Several brazers full of smoldering tabacco leaves sat on a few tables scattered among the large number of crates taht were staked neatly..  Additionally, more tables were covered in all sorts of alchemy equipment with three our four chemists moving between them, studying the gear.

My hyur host led me over to a table with a leather satchel.  He picked it up and looked over at me with a grunt before he began speaking with a subdued accent.

"Alright, smuggler, this is your load.  You make sure this gets to where it needs to, you'll get your payment and that'll be it. But." He grunted, seeming reluctant to hand it over. "This stuff is somewhat fragile and dangerous.  And if you mess this up, Frandrin and you are going to find your heads rolling."

I nodded, putting on a front to seem far more cocky than I felt as I reached out and took the satchel in my right hand.

"Keep your threats. It'll arrive safely." I flashed a smile.  The hyur stared for a few minutes longer before he relinquished control of the satchel. 

I slung it over one shoulder and was about to say something, when there was a sound from outside. And not the good kind.

Well of course the hyur glared at me and it was clear in his eyes he thought I double-crossed him.  The other four inside the building immediately went for firearms and started shouting in a foreign dialect.

Then the explosions happened. My back was to the door so I'm not exactly sure what happened. But there was a blinding flash and a shrill nose. My nose stung and my ears rang. All I wanted to do was puke. I tried to stagger away as the hyur was screaming and covering his eyes. Something was happening. Gunshots maybe? I'm not sure. I managed to stagger down a row of crate and duck behind one, my hands over my ears.

There was a fight, though what exactly happened during the minute or so I was recovering from the blast is unknown to me.

Once my nausea and the wretched ringing plaguing my ears finally abated, I drew both of my flintlock pistols and held them tight as I peeked over the top of the crate.

The hyur who had just hired me was clutching a bleeding knee and his crew was either dead of injured. Three figures wearing some sort of leather/metal masks were standing there. One was obviously a female elezen, but the other two were probably hyurs, though could have been miqo'te. It was hard to tell. Their heads were covered by wrapped cloth and they wore long, brown coats.

The elezen was standing by the door while the leader of the attackers approached my recent employer and chuckled behind the metal disk built into the mask over where his mouth and nose would be.

"Well, well, did we ruin your little operation?" the lead attacker snorted. Meanwhile, the third stranger, who was massively broad in the shoulders suddenly shouted through his mask as he slung an axe onto his shoulder.

"Trrray isn't herrre, boss."

The leader in the mask made a grunting noise as aimed a firearm at the hyur who had employed me.

"The red-headed smuggler. You tell me where he is and I'll pretend I never say your little operation. Even as nice and-" the leader lifted his head and looked over at the table. Something he saw made him pause.

The leader then walked over to the workstation and picked up a vile of the blue fluid the alchemists had been working on.

What followed was a string of swears as the leader turned on his heel and stormed over to the wounded hyur.

"This, where did you learn to make this!" the lead attacker shouted behind his mask as he knelt down and shoved the vial in the hyur's vface.

The hyur tried to squirm away from the vial as he gave a pained grunt.

"Thought you wanted the smuggler."

"Yeah that was before I-Shit."

The wounded hyur pulled out something and the next thing I knew the half the warehouse was ablaze. Green flames shot around me and I turned and started running for the far end of the building. There was a lot of screaming and shouting and burning.

I reached the back and, Twelve bless me, there was a sliding door for loading. Granted it was locked but both bullets from my guns ruined the cheap lock and I shoved the sliding door open.

The green flames danced around me, eating through the wooden timbers faster than normal flames. The ocean rolled before me asI threw myself into it's cold embrace and began free stroking for me life.

I didn't swim too long though. I pulled myself onto a dock and made tracks for Costa, where I sit now.

I'm a few drinks in and my nerves are better and my ship will be pulling out on the tide. But, I keep looking at this satchel beside me. I'm not sure who those masked persons were, or what the hell I'm carrying, but I have a -really- unpleasant feeling Frandrin has gotten me involved in something way outta my league. I have a sinking feeling, Frandrin's -business partners- are Garleans and, not only am I running around with something I am clueless about, I obviously have bounty hunters after me who know -exactly- what the hell I'm carrying around.

And worst part is, I have too complete this job. Cause if I don't, I can't be sure I can get Bleeding Boar's gil.

Well diary, I've got Bounty Hunters to the left of me, possible Garleans to my right, and I'm stuck in the middle with you. I'm not drunk enough for this shite.

Cheers.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 09-01-2016

Entry 4:

When it rains it pours.

You know its never gonna be a good day when you wake up and some asshole you don't know is smiling at you and chatting as if they know you.

So, after yesterday's sail over to Thanalan from Costa Del Sol, I pulled my boat into the Silver Bazaar's dock. I was too tired to go on, so I tossed out my bed roll and slept on my boat. Slept fairly well.

But damn it if waking up this morning wasn't a right bitch.

Woke up, and, while climbing onto the dock so I could take a leak, this voice reaches my ears trying to be all social. I looked over, yawning, and, lo and behold, I see a blonde, female Doman leaning against some crates, dressed in armor and toying with a spear.

That's a nice sight, right? Wrong.

'Mrs. Self Righteous' starts in on me, making taunting remarks and I learn she's a vigilante who's interested in taking out some of my employers. I have to assume this woman is ope of the assholes harassing Frandrin's efforts in the area.

Well little 'Miss Idealist' basically puts me into a position where I'm either gonna have to draw or let her become a problem later. S I took some sniffs and quick pulled. Fired and tore a chunk out of her shoulder/throat area and smashed her face with a blow to her face. Sadly she did a number on my knee and ribs. Thankfully, I still had a pouch of my powder and she got a face full and a free 'trip' on me.

As she was zoning out as the drug rushed her brain, I crawled into my boat and painfully, cut my craft free. Was a good wind in my sail so made good time, problem is I'm now needing some fixing thanks to that Doman. I've set sail to Vesper Bay. Been a few healers there in the past and hopefully at least one of them is still operating out of that small town so I can get back on track.

The package is still secure, but I VERY much want this drop made so I can pay off Bleeding Boar.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 09-06-2016

Entry 5:

Been a busy past few days. Gained a new smuggler, am now a member of a new organization that going to be making me a captain of one of their vessels, and managed to piss off a very dangerous mother.

All in all, a successful time.

Overall. Granted there has been one small hiccup.

Other than the murderous mother.

I finally took the satchel to Ul'dah, the still very likely Garlean contents within. Frandrin's Estate shouldn't have been too difficult to reach. I mean, just a walk through Ul'dah over to the Goblet.

It wasn't.

I got to have an entirely too close encounter.

As I entered by the gate, I saw him. A white haired, onyxed-flesh miqo'te bounty hunter clad from neck to toe in armor plates. Think he introduced himself as Hojo or something.

But, from the moment I saw him strolling through the crowd, that sinister axe on his back gleaming in the sun, I wanted to haul.

Then he tried to stand before me and I heard him call my name in this weird, feral growl pf a voice that caused him to roll the 'r' in my name. I'm guessing he was a bounty hunter but I didn't stay around to chat. I bolted. And, right on cue, the bounty hunter gave chase.

Worst part was, he could keep up in that plate!

So down the streets of Ul'dah we go. I shoved my way through loving couples, upset orange merchants, and even barreled through a parade of mourning persons. I swear I apologized as much as I could.

But he was like a dog on a trail and I couldn't shake him. So I took a corner and stopped, reaching into my coat for the bag of my favorite drug. I hated using it this way, again, but I couldn't take him down physically and my flintlocks aren't powerful enough to punch holes in armor. Glad I ordered some new ones the other night.

Anyway, the hunter swings the corner, metal sketching on stone and I fling. A face full of white powder smashes into him and he starts coughing and sputtering. I turned and ran again.

I didn't see him after than and I'm pretty sure he's -still- in a bit of a daze from that blast.

I managed to slip over to the Goblet and reached Frandrin's massive house, Though I can't shake the feeling I've been tailed to here.

Anyhow, the butler let me in and gave me the guest room to ready up as Frindrin is off at a meeting probably continuing to push his Monetarist agenda. No matter, least it gave me time to clean myself up and get this entry in. I'll get another entry in here soon as I can.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Tray'Ju - 09-11-2016

Entry 6, Part 1

I was, indeed followed, and this hasn't ended well.

Frandrin Andrin Mandrin and I have had a long talk and some things have come to light. But it took someone smashing their way through his mansion with an axe to put us on the same page.

I'll make two entries. One, about the mad axe miqo'te, and the second about what was discussed as his servants mopped blood up off the floor.

I need to avoid politicians in the future.

I was eating dinner in Frandrin's massive dinning room when he returned home. It was late and Fradrin, despite welcoming me warmly, asked that he could have the satchel and discuss payment in the morning. I've smuggled on and off for the lalafell for years so I'm not concerned with a cross so agreed since I had a guest room already. It was a fine night as the lalafel turned in and the butler continued to pour expensive whiskey into my glass till I succumbed to the drink.

Truth be told, I drank too much, as usual, and don't recall anything till I heard the banging. It was loud and thunderous and reverberated around the first floor.

I raised my head and checked the hour on a clock in the hall as I staggered out of the dinning room towards the source of the nose. Apprehensive, I pulled two of the four revolvers Ratio had built for me and eased into the large room before the front door. The door was shaking from a tremendous force and the elezen butler, clad in only a robe, was already at the door, and slid open a section to peer out and say something I didn't make out.

The voice that returned was more a growl and I froze as I heard it mention my name and that whoever it was knew I was inside.

The butler politely told the person to fuck off and that was the wrong call. The door slammed in on its hinges as it dragged the butler away and bashed him between the wall and the door.

Stepping in from the darkness of the Goblet streets, looking like a thing from the hells itself, stood the armored head-hunter I had avoided earlier, his lone, white eye blazing as his massive axe spun in his grip.

"Therrre you arrre." the bounty hunter leered as he stepped into the room, his metal cover body clanking as he moved.

Yeah, I'll admit I turned and ran. My initial reaction to danger has always been to try and avoid first and fight second. And, at the moment, I didn't realize I had nowhere to run and no real great escape options. I ran down the marble hall, my bare feet slapping as the iron monster stormed behind. I looked back to see that great axe head swinging at me like the wrath of all Twelve. I threw myself into a room as the axe missed and caused a section of the wall to explode into an aerial dance of splinters.

I entered the large ballroom. It was filled with tables and and various furniture that was clearly used for large parties. The entire wall opposite the door had been cut out and replaced by a window overlooking the lower sections of the Goblet. The night sky was slowly warming with the far off, but inevitable, light of the dawn and the sounds of confused servants filled the rooms above.

The bounty hunter filled the door as he surged across the room, swinging at me as I retreated. Tables were cleaved, pianos ruined, and a great, gorgeous golden harp was hacked in two. But I managed to avoid that hunk of lethal steel as I backpedaled wildly. Thinking now, I was panicked, because I had forgotten about the twin firearms in my hands as my need for survival selected flight over fight and it wasn't until the axe sailed and nicked my shoulder, drawing a spray of blood, did the urge to fight kick in.

I recalled the weights and my mind focused in desperation. I spun and fired.

The bullet tore into the man's gut and stopped him, dropping him to a knee as he coughed, blood oozing through the iron plates onto the floor.

I'm not sure which I was more impressed with: how well Ratio and Corvus had crafted the firearms and the armor-punching rounds, or the fact that I had missed so badly. I had only been aiming at his knee after all.

I backed up more, placing my spine against the great window, both weapons aimed at the male as I chewed my lip.

His breaths began to grow faster, angrier, and he began to snarl as one thought kept going through my head:

Don't make me kill you, don't make me kill you, don't make me kill you

"Don't make me kill you." I whispered softly, chewing my lip.

The bounty hunter roared and rushed me. I opened fire, pouring round after round into the iron man. Blood splattered across the floor but on he came. I went wide-eyed as my weapons emptied and I threw them at him and jumped aside as he brought the weapon down at my head.

The window exploded as the axe slammed into it instead of me.

I hit the ground and rolled, pulling out my second brace of firearms. I rose and looked at the hunched male. He was breathing heaving, blood staining his armor. Our eyes locked and I saw pain in those white irises of his. I drew the hammer back on my weapons. But then lowered both of them.

A shot rang out and the bounty hunter jerked backwards out the window and went tumbling down the slope of Fanrdin's garden, ripping up rose shrubs as he went.

I turned to see Frandin's elezen butler standing there with a smoking firearm held in both hands. His face was a bloody mess but he was composed as he he lowered the weapon.

"What the blazes is going...my ballroom!" Frandrin waddled in on his short, stumpy legs and looked around in horror at the damaged done to his property.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm fine." I shot sarcastically, lowering the hammers of my weapons.

"Tray!" Frandrin looked at me and then the pools of blood. "What-" he was interrupted as a cleaning staff, in their sleeping attire, was rushed in by the butler to begin tiding up the mess.

"'What' is what we need to talk about." I growled, eyeing the small monetarist. "Whatever I just brought you has had more snoops and complications associated with it than I care to mention and I think I deserve a damn explanation!"

"What did this?" Fradnin inquired.

"An uncouth man who is currently in our garden." the butler explained to his master. "I'll go and -tidy up- the garden, sir." the butler left as the few maids yawned as they mopped, clearly confused but not at all concerned about the blood on the floor. Frandrin paid them extremely well for a reason after all. Their silence.

Frandrin eyed me and jerked his head.

"My study." he turned and left and I followed after him, seeking answers.

Answers I'm somewhat sorry I got.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 08-18-2017

((Tray'ju was a pen name I was using but forgot password to account and e-mail associated with account was corrupted so back to using main account.  Rolleyes))

Entry 7

Hello, Diary.  How have you been?  Sorry it's been so long since I scribbled all over your pages but, well, things have been a bit hectic.

See, following the near death of Hojo'to at my hands and the meeting with Frandrin, I became primary target number one for lots of very unhappy people with weird affections to the retarded meat-head.  These affections, unfortunately meant lethal ramification for me.  Between Bleeding Boar, Kanako Moonweaver, Sun'ra Zhwan, Mergrey, Korofi, and a half dozen others, I was constantly looking for someone to come out of the shadows and lop my damn head off.

To compound matters, my high profile in a certain organization, as well as the work I continued to do for Frandrin, was putting me front-and-center with various law enforcement agencies as my import business, (hehe imports, gonna remember that one), exploded with demands.  One could say I had too many investors.

Well, I figured my number was gonna be up anytime and was making plans for the orphanage when He-Whom-I-Shall-Not-Name-in-Case-This-is-Picked-Up-By-the-Law recommended a ploy. 

I won't get into specifics in case I need to do it again, but you may have heard I was dead, Diary. Well, -someone- did die.  But, wasn't me.

Now, moment I got wind, I dropped my colors and fled.  Right into hiding.   Granted had to watch most of my contacts and venues get absorbed by various sects but I was alive and was worth it.  Spent a lot of the time in the orphanage fixing it up and working with the kids in the moons following.  Had plenty of money saved over so no trouble.

For awhile.

But, the money began to dry up after several of my accounts were seized upon by agencies or former allies and I've had to come back out of hiding and resume my trade. 

What can I say?  I have a legendary skill at turning shit into gold.

For now, most think I'm still dead and I'm -very- happy to keep up that visage up while I work.

First though, Frandrin and I need to have a little chat about his -friends-.  Never did update about his little package did I? Well Diary, I'll keep you in suspense for a bit longer.  You know how I like to be a merciless tease.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 08-26-2017

Entry 8

Dear diary,

I know you are just a book and don't think and all but I've missed writing you. It's nice to have a someone I can talk too without feeling judged. Far as I'm concerned you are the best sort of friend, silent and willing to just listen.

And right now, need it. I'm a few bottles in and feeling reflective ya know?

Went looking for Frandrin but he's out looks like for the time. So turned my aim towards other matters.

Good news, found new employ with the White Wolf Syndicate for the time being. Capable group though Lotus might take wrong aspect. This is for safety, but could need to mention. Blood oaths are not light in Doman culture and I technically still have mine.

But I need contacts and protection. And, I dunno. Ever since Tessra died, things just seem so strange. I remember back then that everything was a big deal. I stressed over everything and everything seemed so wonderful. But now? It's just so meh. Maybe I'm wiser. Jaded? But things don't get to me the same way. I mean people point guns at me and instead of losing my mind, I just react. I'm mean I get scared sure, but I'm also so logical. I don't loose myself in the same way.

Whatever. Enough edge lording.

The orphanage is doing well. We're up to six kiddoes meow. Fixed the roof. Took forever to re-shingle but least it isn't leaking anymore. As for the rest of of the building, working on it. Got the gang new bed sheets and mattresses too. Course it's amazing I get any work done when I'm there. Those kids harass the hell out of me to play with them. It's exhausting trying to keep up with six kids but I manage somehow. Think they are all great and looking forward to seeing them all again.

Also of note is the fact that I've managed to avoid any interactions with the 'crew.' Sooner or later we might run into each other but for now I'm feeling optimistic that this shift to operating around Thanalan after having laid low for so long is going to keep my profile low enough to be missed.

Well, I've rambled enough. Sure I'll have interesting news soon.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 08-31-2017

Entry 9


Dear diary, shall I tell you the tale?

The tale of how I slipped into Frandrin's mansion and made myself known to him with a dynamic reveal?And how I wrapped him around my finger?

I shall? Splendid?

Well, there I was, inside his mansion, comfortably sitting in a massive, leather chair with golden trimmings. My legs were crossed and I had my revolver pointed at the entrance to his bedroom.  I recall I sat there for about an hour, casually waiting for him to return as I read a book.  The book was pretty good actually. About this anti-hero fellow who was - eh that's not to the point here, is it?

I heard the door start to open and cocked my revolver. 

Well, let my tell you, both the butler and I were surprised.   We were both tense and neither of us spoke for several moments as we sized one another up.

To the butler's credit, he, in his aged, elezen way took all this in stride.  He casually folded his hands before him and bowed.

"Ah, Master Estinoch, I had heard you perished. I am sure my master will be thrilled to learn of your continued exuberance."

"I...I'm sure you are right." I chuckled sheepishly, not lowering my gun.  "Is he home?"

"Not yet I'm afraid." the butler explained.  "He's currently out playing polo."

"Right, right, I forgot the day.  So how have you been?  What have you been up too?"

"Butling." The butler joked and I laughed with a nod. 

"You know I can't just let you walk away.  Would ruin the surprise."  I added.

"This mean you intend harm on my master?" the elezen's grey eyebrow's slanted over his green eyes and I swallowed.  I didn't know what he'd done before he'd come to work for Frandrin but I had seen first hand this old man's combat prowess and it was, despite his age, frightening.

"Not at all, just a joke of sorts. And protection.  After all, I like to be careful when dealing with Garlean sympathizers."  I explained, giving a fake smile that was full of teeth.

"Has my master ever given you the impression he might want to silence you?  He came to rely on you rather heavily before your death...disappearance."

"You master is both a Monetarist and a Garlean sympathizer." I retorted with a raised eyebrow.  "What about that invites true trust?"

The butler shrugged and we then spent the next bell or so making very awkward and light chit-chat.  I was very grateful when another set of foot steps began to walk down the hall towards the room. I heard the lalafel call:

"Ah, there you are.  Could you bring a bit of tea to my study, I..." Frandrin paused as he came into sight through the doorwar and turned to follow his butler's gaze towards me.   A Cheshire grin took my lips and I twitched my tail lazily.

"Hello, Frandrin." I purred and the lalafel went pale.

"Tray..Tray'ju.  I..thought you were dead." 

"Indeed." I mused.  "But I'm not.  It's cause of you I had to fake being dead.  You know why?" I narrowed my eyes.  "Because you had me smuggle in those damn vials of Blue Blood!"

"Now look, I paid you for the delivery." Frandrin began.  "I told you everything and-"

"Except how half the damn world would want to kill me to get to you over it!" I snapped, anger suddenly flushing my face red as I recalled how everything I had built was gone because I had to drop colors and run for my life because of this man.  "The Maelstrom, bounty hunters, hell even other crooks were after me cause of that shipment.  And for what?  So you could have them in case you needed them?"

"Ah.   So you have come for revenge then?"  Frandrin swallowed nervously.  Beside him the elezen flexed his fingers.  I glared at the lalafel and grunted.

"No." I replied and saw Frandrin's face relax some.  "I came here because word is you've been a bad little bee."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Oh yes. I heard all about how you've 'helping the war effort against the Empire'. How noble of you to send supplies. Especially those 'special' boxes."

"How did you.."

"I'm a bad little bee too, Frandrin. I still have a few contacts. And after I got word you were hiring people to move those 'special' boxes to make sure they got aboard vessels bound to the front, I got curious and just had to look inside. And whoop boy. I don't know much about bombs, but whoever you've got making these babies is a master. And let me be the first to say that there are not many bomb makers in Ul'dah who are that skilled. So what's the angle? Make sure that the bombs blow up the ships full of supplies on the way to the front? Or you waiting till they reach the front to detonate them?"


"You have a point? Frandrin grunted, clearly holding back his anger. He was caught but was avoiding answering my questions.  That didn't bother me.  I'd done my research before coming here.

"Well, you are going to pay me to keep my mouth shut and ensure myself and my organization is left alone by the Brass Blades.  You are also going to put some bounties out for me. And any jobs you or your friends have go through me now. And if you think about killing me, I have left several identical folders with various people who all have instructions to open the files should I vanish or turn up expired; and then turn the documents over to various groups. These documents detail your busy little schemes, all your little secrets, and just how far your Garlean strings go. And if you think I'm just talking the Brass Blades, you missed the mark. I'm talking vigilant groups. You know, the nut jobs who you can't bribe with your authority.  The idealists."

Frandrin was grinding his teeth and glaring.

'So it's blackmail is it?"

"More like a forced merger." I replied.  "You now operate through me at my rates. You pay a lot for quality you know. The envelopes are just insurance against you and your Garlean puppet masters."

"You've become far more cut throat." Frandrin commented.

"Life does that to people." I remarked. "Do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"About as much choice as you offered me when I moved the Blue Blood." I answered sardonically.

"I see."

"To a beautiful partnership." I said with a pleased smile.

"To something." the lalafel growled.

Ten minutes later I left by the front door and, Diary, I don't mind telling you I wore a shit-eating from on my face the whole way home.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 09-11-2017

Entry 10


Diary, there comes a time in a man's life where he has to really consider everything he stands for.

Now, I consider myself a reasonable person.  Sure, some might question my moral code, but I strive to be a slice better than the normal criminal.  To be a better sort of being than most degenerates out there. 

But here, in my trying times, I find it neither repulsive nor reprehensible that I permit myself to harbor thoughts about breaking my oath to never kill. 

Sun'ra Zhwan has forced my hand.  He's come for my head, kidnapped a white Wolf member, and driven a wedge between me and the organization.  He represents the most vile and base parts of both this profession and the miqo'te race.  I didn't want this conflict, but I no have no choice but to play with the hand given me.

I will not run this time. I will not flee. And I won't die.  I have orphans to protect and my Free Company to see raised to the top.  I will not watch everything I've built up be taken from me again!

I didn't start this conflict, Diary.  Sun and his brother did when they tried for my head and stabbed me in the back.  I wanted to live and let live.  To make gil and call it good.

So here I am, writing in you as I wait to speak with Frandrin.  Will update you as things develop further.

Oh yeah, Kanako and I actually had a -civil- conversation the other day, so I do need to thank Reed for making that happen, supposing she doesn't break my face for this Sun business.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 09-19-2017

Entry 12

Ever have nightmare's that seem so real you swear they happened? 

Well I just had one.  Damn was weird, and woke up in cold sweats.

I was there, inside the White Wolf mansion, but the halls and room were all wrong.  Doors went everywhere and nowhere and the only light was from these strange candles with green, oily flames.

Everywhere these heavy shadows seemed to boil and pop and whispers came from them.

I recall looking for the kitchen to have some dinner in the dream but was lost.

And then I entered the wash room and there was Hojo, the damn nightmare himself inside my nightmare.  Dressed in that armor of his, drenched in blood and tearing flesh from some arm.  He looked at me, I at him, and like in real life, I fled.

The whole house was filled with screams and the snarling, snapping sounds of Hojo at my heels. 

I ran, ran as my lungs filled with blood and ice.  I ran as my feet fell apart and I collapsed.  I crawled, dragging my ruined self and yet, I could not escape that thunderous advance of that blood soaked, iron bound abomination. 

I turned to see the white-maned monster coming for me, hands dripping in ichor as the air filled with the sounds of Sun'ra's nightmarish cackling.  I screamed in terror as the axe of Hojo's rose high.

And then the -thing- rose up behind me.  I...I have no way to describe that hideous, etheral thing.  It was solid yet not, it was blacker than the shadows and yet visible.  A mass of teeth and claws, tentacles and limbs.

It made Hojo snarl and angry yet it caused the male to retreat as the -thing- spoke.

Little Hojo, don't you know,
Death is where you must go.

The lights began to fade and the things looked at me with countless eyes as the light went out.

So, that was it.  Not fun.  But don't think I'll sleep tonight.  I...I just cant.  I feel cold.  And I'm hungry but kinda afraid to go get food.  Funny how nightmares can haunt us in the living world, eh?  But if there was something to make Hojo back off like that I'd take it.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 09-27-2017

Entry 13


Went out to La Noscea.  Was worth the sail. 

Was good to be at the helm of a ship again.  With all the backroom deals and cloak-and-dagger drama that is my life now, I forget just how big and carefree the world can be. 

The salt spray, the wind at your back, the sounds of sailor's cursing; makes me wonder why I stopped sometimes.

But then I went to the orphanage and remembered.  Seven years, seven years of hard work and somehow our orphanage still thrives, thanks to the large river of gil I keep directing it's way of course

The kids tackled me the moment I got there and I was forced into playing games before knew what was going on.  Hide and seek was fun but the constant presence of the extra security I've hired for the place reminded me of the less than savory matters going on back in Thanalan.

Thankfully, I was able to get some alone time with my son after dinner.  Miss Perkins, in her aged wisdom, cleverly seperated me and my boy from the rest and we went to his room to talk.

Twelve bless me, he's grown so much this past cycle.  He's twelve now, twelve cycles, can you believe it?!  Were has time gone?  Just yesterday I seems I had him crying in my arms as a storm rolled through the coast.

And now?  He's growing up.  He's sharp as a tack and was going on and on about how the doctor we had come teach them anatomy for a few moons had really inspired him and he wants to get into medicine.  He's already started filling his shelf with medical books and seems extra interested in the spine of all things

The spine!

Seeing him go on and on, grinning and excited to talk, makes me remember that all this shit I deal with on a daily basis is worth it.  Thanks to all this illicit money, my boy and the rest of the orphans here are going to get a shot at any life they want.

It wasn't fun having to explain why I don't come visit them more often though.  I think he's starting to figure out that pop's income is less than savory and it's hard to tell your kid to live one way and stay away from drugs, when you're nightly breaking both those rules. 

But I've decided to stay the night here in my old office.  Just a bunk, a chair, and a desk really.  But it feels like the coziest room I own anywhere.  And right now it feels good to simply feel like I matter to people again.

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 10-11-2017

Entry 14

Bells.  Tolling bells.  And thecackling laughter of a thousand hungry ravens  filling the chalk-white sky.

Bells.  Tolling bells.

I stood hunched against a bitter wind over a grave.  My grave.  Name, date, and cause of death all written plainly. 

Cause: Sun’ra Zhawn.

The cackling birds sounded like that vile miqo’te as they fluttered.

Bells. Tolling bells.  I clenchedmy jaw and gnashed my teeth violently.  Even in my dreams this bastard torments me, haunts me. 

No escape. Not in life.

A black, twisted, incorporeal shadow image of the man rose up beside me.  It snickered as it began pissing black vapor onto his gave.

Not in death.

No way out and the walls were closing in; the fog wall closing in; and within those white walls were lurking a thousand blades waiting to slice me to ribbons.

Bells. Tolling bells.

A black raven landed upon the tombstone.  It’s onyx eyes peered into my soul as it opened its mouth.  A flap of it’s winds stopped the wall’s advance.  A second made the mist retreat.  A third flap and the date of death upon the stone vanished.

Another flap. It rose high and circled overhead.

The thing cawed wickedly as the fog wall began to advance once more now that the raven had departed.

I knew, somehow, that if he but held out my hand, the bird would light upon it and I would be safe.

Safe.

Yet, despite this knowledge, why did this bird make me so afraid?

Bells.  Tolling bells.  And a raven’s cackling laughter.

And then from the hellish landscape I woke. Once more in the world of the living.  The world that is slow crushing my skull beneath its boot as I flail, trying to stay strong. Stay alive. I feel like I am fighting against the whole world.

I'm not sure how I can go on. How I can overcome all this.  The bottle does nothing.  All there is is violence, abuse, and mockery. Who can I trust anymore now that I can't even feel confident in my own Free Company leader?  Who has my back?

I'm trying to drink myself to sleep, kill the dreams. But I feel like I'm being watched. All the damn time.  Yet whenever I look out into those shadow drenched streets, all I see is darkness, whores, and a raven. 

Hells take Sun'ra for doing this to me.  For taking my arm from me. For imprisoning me.  For tormenting me as he does now. Damn him!

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 12-22-2017

"Tray?! Where the hells have you been? You look like a bag of chocobo shit."

Diary, no matter -who- says those words, its not the first thing you want to hear after a long night of drinking.  I mean sure, Y'Mara looked alluring as always standing over me, even if she was wearing way more clothing than I normally see her in; but when your head is splitting, and your mouth tastes like dried bile, no amount of eye candy makes you feel less like you got run over by a marching legion of Roes.

I recall trying to move and sit up, but the twist of my guts squeezed me tight and a final wave of rum-tainted acid rushed out of my lips and splattered onto the cobblestones.  Y'Mara wisely took some steps back as her face wrinkled from the smell

"Oh for fuck sakes." she muttered, twisting that fluffy tail of hers in a gesture of annoyance. 

"I'm fine." I moaned, slowly sitting up with my back to the alley wall and my booted feet kicked out in front of me.  I realized then my shirt was gone and I stared at my bare chest in confusion.  I'm still not sure where it went.  "Just a little hung over is all."

"Hah, 'little.'" Y'Mara grunted.  "So, do I asked why you haven't been by first, or where the metal arm came from?"

I couldn't see her face but I could tell by her tone there was come concern mixed with her chastising.  I glanced at the metal where my left shoulder had been and the bolts that affixed the polished plates to the bones within my body. 

"A gift." I gurgled weakly as I slowly rolled the fingers of my magitek limb.  "A gift from Sun'ra." 

"Him." Y'Mara growled.  I'd informed her of the conflict prior some time ago and she had taken my side whole-heartedly.  "This has gone on long-"

"It's fine." I wheezed, digging into the pockets of my trousers for a flask of water that was...in my coat so I was out of luck.  Where was my coat?  "We've... come to an understanding."  I muttered.  "For the time, we're no longer trying to kill each other.  Might even say working together." 

"Only cost you the arm?" Y'Mara snorted distastefully.  "What a deal.  I'll happily kill that son-of-a-"

"Y'Mara," I grunted, forcing a pained smile to my lips.  "It's fine.  He's no longer a threat and he's easier to control than I thought he would be.  For now, let him be.  He's profitable."

Y'Mara flicked her tail and gave an annoyed grunt.

"You just want to kill something."  I joked.

"Maybe." Y'Mara replied.  "So where have you been?" 

"Took a business trip." I explained as I tried to get to my feet.  Y'Mara slipped up to help me and I could feel her coils of powerful shoulder muscles rippling beneath the white fabric of her linen shirt.  I draped my arm across her shoulders as she half-aided, half-carried me down the street.  "Had some stuff to think about, and some deals to make.  Very successful trip, I must say."

We walked through Ul'dah, the other pedestrians leaving us a wide berth as we passed.  Probably cause of the smell.

"One of these days I'm going to find you dead in these streets." Y'Mara muttered, shaking her head.

"Not if I can help it." I coughed as I chuckled.  "I have a new goal.  A political one..."

"It's with the Moniterists, isn't it." Y'Mara sighed.

"How did you-"

"You've talked in your sleep before."  she answered quickly.

"Wait, but that was months ago we-"

"Yeah."  Y'Mara confirmed as we took a corner and were hit by the full light of the rising sun.  I hissed as my eyes began to water from the glow.  "It was.  I think it's a stupid idea."

"I wasn't aware I paid you to think." I retorted with a wry smile. She drove a fist into my ribs and I wheezed in pain.

"Consider it a free bonus." she stated dryly.  "My place or yours?"

I had to wait a few a few moments to get air back into my lungs to answer.

"My place, would you kindly?"

RE: Diary of a Red-Headed Drug-smuggling Widower - Askier - 01-03-2018

ENTRY 16

"Last chance to back out."

I glanced at Y'Mara. 

She looked almost nightmarish as she stood to my left, dressed in her Brass Blade uniform.  The faint light from the moon was casting deep shadows over her features and glinting wickedly off the sharpened edge of the sword she was spinning in her right hand.

Behind her was another ten or so Blades; each just as imposing imposing as they mulled in a ragged formation, casting quick glances around the Goblet street. 

All of the houses were dark and only a few lanterns were flickering, most having long since burned themselves out.  Not even a wind stirred the streets.  It was only myself and this band of thugs, and our dark intentions.

"Too late. I need to have you earn that gil lining your purses." I replied quietly, glancing at the large manor of our target as it rose into the night sky.

"Could always turn you in for attempting to bribe an officer of the law." Y'Mara smirked as she placed the flat of her blade to my metal arm.  I glanced over at her.  She had pulled her lips back into a deviant smile that revealed her pointed fangs.  I couldn't see her eyes behind her mask, but I knew there was a mad twinkle in them.

"You'd miss me." I answered, slightly anxious at the idea of her turning on me.

"I would.  You're lucky."  Y'Mara chuckled as she turned to look the manor's front door.  "Everything will be where it needs to be?"

I nodded.

"It'll be where I told you."

"It had better be, Tray.  Or you and I could both hang for this."

"Don't worry, tomorrow, your band is gonna be heroes, a Garlean sympathizer will be in chains and-"

"A sudden vacancy among thelower rungs of Moneterists opens up." Y'Mara filled in the rest of my sentence.  I gave her a nod and accepting shrug. 

"Almost like clockwork."  I added.

"Almost indeed."  she snorted.  "Won't raise any questions."

"Have fun." I said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Always." Y'Mara sneered with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm.  Violence was her drug and she was clearly jonesing for a fix.  This was going to get messy for everyone inside.

She gave a hand signal and her band followed after her as she strode forward towards the door.  I turned and began to walk away.  I had only gone a block when the banging and shouting started before the door was kicked in.  After that, I couldn't hear much but I didn't need too.  It was all in Y'Mara's hands now.  I simply had to play my part.

It was a slow walk from the Goblet back towards Ul'dah.  And the sun was just rising as I began to ascend those long steps up towards the gate.  But as I looked up and saw the first rays of sun gleaming over the spires, I smirked.

Diary, my goal is to die with my pockets crammed full of gil.  And this city is going to make sure that happens. 

I'll give it a few days...and then Frandrin and I are going to have a little chat about his ally vanishing like that.