AFriendOfAFriend

"Man's life can be defined as a series of 'things.' Things he has, things he wants, things he needs. Things he covets, things he craves, things he lusts after, things he dreams of, things he'd pay for, things he'd harm for. Some men, they'll go about gettin' these things any way they can. They'll beg, cheat, steal and kill to get the things they desire. Other men, they don't got the stomach to just reach out and take it. "Don't mean they don't got the coin t'pay someone what will." -J'nye "Johnny" Tia

I'd be interested in seeing the Viera and Ronso. The latter in particular could be fun, seeing as they would physically appear to be an offshoot of the Miqo'te or Roegadyn (or both). To the gentleman who suggested Fenrir, he's already been kinda sorta confirmed in the form of ARR concept art (he also looks almost identical to his XI counterpart).

9/10 Fits the naming conventions, rolls well and it has a certain fantasy/mystic ring to it. Add to it the deeper meaning of Eldgammel and you've got a nifty name. Montague Morne is my attempt at following the Elezen naming conventions. It doesn't end in 'x' or 't,' but Montague is French in origin (I've handwaved the impropriety of the name by saying he's an orphan --__--; ). Morne comes from an old tradition of naming orphans after either the place or conditions in which they were found. Baby Monty was found in the rain, and so became Morne - French for dreary. (An aside to anyone having naming trouble, this website provides a Lore-Accurate name generator.)

Monty watched the girl climb, impressed by the ease of her movements - appearances could be deceiving, it seemed. He turned to the woman holding the ladder, stared for a quiet moment and decided that chivalry had been appeased. His decision had nothing to do with the fact that the Roegadyn looked like she could snap him in two. His thoughts did not show on his face as he merely gave her a respectful nod, shouldered his pack and climbed up on deck.

Monty watched Xha'something clamber up the ladder and blinked. He'd expected the nervous looking quiet fellow to be the first to make haste for slightly more solid ground. Turning his lone eye toward the man he barely spotted him before he too shot up onto the boat. Well, answered that question. He shook his head, sighed again and looked to the over-encumbered Miqo'te. "Ladies first," he mumbled, tilting his head toward the ladder.

Something no one has yet mentioned, but it appears that a few new emotes have been added. Of note are /visor and, more interestingly, /imperialsalute. Will we be able to join the grand ol' Empire in the future, I wonder?

Presenting Montague Morne. Poor guy looks like he could use a nap...

Standard bearer mammets! Must have standard bearer mammets!

((This thread is dedicated to the dreams/nightmares/visions/echoes of Montague Morne, telling the life story of a Garlean soldier. They will be presented chronologically, not necessarily in the order Monty experienced them. As always, comments and criticisms are welcome.)) The Wolves (Act I & II) She giggled softly as she led him deeper into the wood, away from all that might overhear. He smiled at her excitement, letting her drag him by the hand to wherever it was they were going. Some time later they came to a stop in a small clearing, and she spun around to wrap her arms around his waist. "What's so important that we had to come all this way?" He asked lightly, putting his arms around her shoulders. Her smile turned impish. "I couldn't risk anyone finding out." "Finding out what?" She just smiled harder, making him roll his eyes with an exasperated sigh. She giggled again, stood on her toes to peck his lips and whispered "I'm with child." Several emotions played across his face in rapid succession: confusion, shock, astonishment and finally unbridled joy. His hands fell to her hips and he hoisted her into the air, spinning her around as he let a whoop. "Hush," she admonished between laughs, "my family will hear you!" He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. "Hang your family, I'm going to be a father!" He brought her back down into an embrace, and for some time they just held each other, reveling in their happiness. "Come away with me," he whispered into her hair. "Back to Ala Mhigo? But, my family-" He shook his head. "No, not Ala Mhigo. I won't have my children raised there." She frowned and took a half-step back, remaining in his arms but enough to look up at him in confusion. "Then where?" "Home," he answered with a smile. "Garlemald." "Garlemald...? What are you talking about?" He looked away, something approaching shame in his eyes. "I'm afraid that I've misled you..." Her eyes grew wide as she took another step, breaking his embrace. "You're an Imperial?" "Please, let me explain-" "I've heard such horrible things..." She took another step back. "W-why are you here?" He reached out to her, trying to be comforting, but she just took another step. "I'm sure what you've heard is untrue. The Empire means well, love. Truly." "Why are you here?" She asked again. He frowned. "I'm just here to gather information, nothing-" "What for?" "Never you mind that, now-" "Is that... Is that why you're with me? Are you using me?" "No!" He cried, stepping toward her. "No. At first I may have sought answers from you, but I swear-" "What is your name?" "Look, that's not-" "Answer me!" The tears streaming down her cheeks, the betrayal in her eyes, they broke his heart. "Marius..." he sighed. "My name is Marius." She choked out a sob. "Do I even know you?" "Penny, please, just calm yourself. We can discuss this-" "No," she shook her head sharply. "I have nothing to discuss with a stranger." She turned to leave, and he drew a deep, shaky breath. "Is that the end of us, then?" "There never was an 'us,' Marius. You cannot end what never began." "What of the child?" "I will tell them their father is dead. I will offer you that courtesy, for the man you might have been," her voice was cold as she walked away. His shoulders slumped, his knees felt weak. "Will you tell anyone of me?" She stopped, half-turned to stare at him over her shoulder. "Will you kill me for knowing?" "Never." "... If I ever see you again I will shout the truth of you at the top of my lungs. Leave this land, go back to your 'home,'" she spat the word like poison "and you will never have to fear." With that she left the clearing, and a broken man, behind. ~ "Laurie!" She called out into the trees, hand on her hip. "Son, come here!" For a moment she heard nothing but the wind rustling through the leaves, but just as she was about to shout again the soft, steady thump of a child's footfalls echoed back to her. A small boy, no older than five, burst into the clearing, dirt staining his fingers and the odd leaf sticking out of his dark hair. "Hello, mother!" He smiled brightly, hoping against hope that- "Don't you 'hello, mother' me young man," Penny admonished, a stern frown on her face. "What have I told you about running off alone?" The child looked down and scuffed his feet into the grass. "Not to?" She sighed at his pitiful look, a grin stubbornly tugging at the corners of her mouth. Giving in she knelt down, holding her arms out expectantly to the boy. He looked at her inviting pose, sniffled a bit, and ran into her waiting embrace. "M'sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder, but she just shushed him and held him tighter. "Just try not to do it again." He nodded and stepped back, blushing a bit at appearing so weak in front of his mother. He was too old to get all weepy every time he was scolded. "What did you... What'd you want me for?" He asked, frantically wiping away any stray tears - and smudging dirt all over his face in the process. She smiled at his act - this last cycle her son had begun trying to be 'manly,' and it never failed to amuse her. "Well, I need to ask you a very serious question." "What is it, mother?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Whenever mother said something was serious it was... well, serious, and he did his best to pay attention. "What do you think of Bo?" The boy frowned in concentration. Bo was her mother's friend, a kind man with weathered skin and solemn eyes. He always took time out of his day to help and teach the boy, and to make sure mother was happy. He liked Bo very much, and told his mother so. That brought another smile to Penny's face, and made her much more confident in asking the next question: "How would you feel if Bo became your father?" ~ The boy stared, wide-eyed at the small bundle wiggling in his mother's arms. "Is that..." he whispered breathlessly, tugging on Bo - no, his father's pant leg. "Is that her?" Bo glanced down and gave the boy a gentle pat on the head. "That's her," he confirmed. "Big brother." "Wh-what do I do?" "Love her," his father said. "Protect her." The boy nodded seriously. "Beat up any boy who comes within six yalms of her." "Bo!" Penny seethed quietly, glaring at her husband. The man grinned, and the boy laughed. ~ The day had begun normally. The family had traveled into the city proper to trade, as they did every few moons. This was a special occasion, though, as it marked the daughter's first time within Ala Mhigo. The little girl toddled along next to her brother, gripping his hand tightly as her head swung back and forth, bright eyes taking in all they could. The day was supposed to be simple, joyous. Explosions rang out, women screamed, smoke poisoned the sky. The crowds ran to and fro, no one quite sure where to flee. In the midst chaos stood the family, huddled and shivering. "What's going on?" the boy asked, clutching his sobbing sister closely to his side. "The city's under attack," Bo murmured, voice torn between horror and disbelief. It had taken the combined might of the other city-states to beat Ala Mhigo back in the past, who in the world would be brave - or foolish - enough to fight them? A large, winged tower flew overhead, drawing gasps from the people below. "Marius," Penny whispered. ~ He couldn't hear, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Smoke choked his lungs, his ears rang from the war raging around him, tears stung his eyes, his skin burned, his bones ached. Where was his mother? Father? Sister? Oh, Twelve, his sister! She had been right by his side, he couldn't remember letting go of her. Where was she? They had been running, trying to get out of the city, then a bright flash and so much pain... Something sharp and heavy hit his side, rolled him over on his back. He hissed. "Survivor," a deep, distorted voice rumbled above him. "Put him with the others." He heard no more as his world faded to black.

Must... stop... pressing... random...

The Garleans tend to be a mix of the Romans, Nazis, Amestris from FMA and the Galactic Empire from Star Wars in my head (this is mostly from the childhood indoctrination/rampant racism/their military dividing nicely into Marian era units, with Latin-appropriate names/Magitek being somewhat reminiscent of automail/the fact that Gaius reminds me rather strongly of Darth Vader). I make certain assumptions based on that; that they have a Senate, maybe a noble caste, enough political intrigue and backstabbing to gag a poli-sci major, et cetera and so on. The Elezen fall rather heavily under Tolkien mythology, with the Wildwood being the Rivendell elves and the Duskwight the Wood elves (there's some form of dramatic irony somewhere in that statement, but it's 1am and I can't be arsed to find it). Having read the Silmarillion eight-hundred-bajillion times I have a hard time not filling the gaps in Elezen lore with the tales Fingolfin and company. Also find myself reciting A Elbereth Gilthoniel in my head when thinking of this particular race. What else, what else... The whole Beastmen summoning the Primals thing makes me think of the Call of C'thulhu (Ifrit fhtagn!). That's all I got at the moment.

What I could find:

Hello and hats off to the name, definitely a keeper (no pun intended). The naming conventions can be tricky to work with on certain races (Miqo'te and Roegadyn specifically), but I am very grateful to the Loremaster for providing them. In my opinion it helps the characters further blend into the world. Montague came from my attempt at a proper French-sounding name that didn't contain an uncomfortable amount of 'x's, and also served as a shoutout to an old MMO buddy who used it regularly. Morne means 'dreary' in French, and comes from the old tradition of naming orphans after the place/conditions they were found in. Monty was found as a baby in the rain, and so Morne he became. Not to mention I like the alliteration, it rolls off the tongue well...

Thanks for the info, everyone. The Empire's quite a bit darker than I'd expected, it'll be fun to poke around their sandbox a bit.

Monty stepped on the boat after Xha'... Xha'... Xha'something, doing a little dance to keep himself upright. He'd forgotten how annoying reacquiring your sea legs could be, and quickly took a seat beside the tailless Miqo'te to prevent any mishaps. He brought his pack down from his shoulder and placed it on his lap, keeping a hand tightly gripped on the drawstring - Maelstrom lesson number one: You can trust a seadog with your life, but not your belongings. Just as they were about to get underway another Miqo'te came sprinting toward them, wearing armor that looked a size too big and displaying her purse a bit too proudly. He sighed again - that seemed to be quickly becoming habit -, and the good Captain waved his approval for the girl to board. One more couldn't hurt, he supposed - in the likely event the privateers decided to rob them they'd have decent numbers on their side. Not long after casting off the commotion he'd heard along the docks finally reached them in the form of a pissed-as-all-seven-hells Roegadyn, shouting and gesturing like mad in their general direction. Monty had been half expecting a contingent of Blades, so learning of the lover's spat was something of a relief. He idly wondered how the promised introductions would go. Xha'something shifted next to him, suddenly sprouting a tail, and Monty's lone eye blinked. He nodded at the quick explanation, he could appreciate the sentiment. He himself wouldn't miss emptying the sand out of his eyepatch. After a moment of silence his ears twitched, and he turned toward their gracious hosts. "Um... What're the chances that, uh... Lover-boy back ashore has his own ship?"

/waves sheepishly 'Lo, everyone. I've been looking into Garlean lore, searching for more information on their... aggressive conscription methods, and I'm coming up blank. I've got a few ideas stewing that involve the topic in one form or another, and I'd like some more concrete info before I start digging myself a hole. That being said my question to you, denizens of the RPC, is this: How exactly does the Empire brainwash people? Is it magic? Magitek? Subliminal bombardment? Beating people upside the head with a herring? Or, deadliest of all, the mystic handwave? Alternatively: In the event that the lore just doesn't exist (which is not outside the realm of possibility), what method do you think would most likely be employed? I'm inclined to believe it's either magic or some kind of technology, as effectively mass-brainwashing a traumatized populace a la the Ala Mhigans doesn't seem practical without some sort of supernatural assistance.

((Takes place prior to Monty's involvement in the 'All Aboard!' thread.)) The Crippled Lion Leaving is more painful than he cares to admit. He cannot call the men and women around him friends, cannot remember a quarter of their names or half of their faces, but for five long cycles they have been his family. He has broken bread with them, slept by the same fire, shared in their victories and frustrations. Each of them makes a point to meet his eye as he walks out of camp, and many solemn nods are exchanged. For the first time in his life he feels like he is leaving home, and the pain in his chest is bittersweet. A rough hand lands on his shoulder, stopping his exit. He turns, the glum face of his foreman filling his vision. Hollow Mountain is aptly named, a hulking beast of a man with skin like leather and a hideous smile. All his treasures had been plundered long ago, but still he remains, a fixture in the land itself. He is one of the few men in life Monty has looked up to - figuratively and literally. "Leavin' withou' sayin' g'bye?" Mountain asks, something approaching humor in his cavernous voice. Monty gives a helpless little shrug. "I've never... done this. Goodbyes, I mean." "Always time t' learn, Monty lad. Always time t' learn." Hand still on his shoulder the Roegadyn steers him away, off toward a small gathering of workers. He recognizes few by face, less by name and most by trade. Fellow carpenters, blacksmiths, the odd alchemist, a fisherman or two and the 'van's chef, all huddled together and shooting him nervous smiles. Monty feels his heels dig in of their own accord, instinctively shying away from such attention, but Mountain's firm grip keeps him moving. "We didn' wan' ye headin' off an' forgettin' abou' us," Mountain rumbles, dragging him to a stop before the group. "So's we all pitched in an' made ye summat." Monty feels his cheeks heating. "I... I couldn't possibly-" Mountain claps him firmly on the back, sending him stumbling forward. "We insist." The next several moments pass as Monty tries to accept their gifts as graciously as his social ineptitude will allow, which judging by the occasional snicker is not very. From the fishermen he receives a rod and reel, from the cook a few meals for the road, and a potion from the alchemists to help him sleep. The latter makes his gut twist, the thought of sleep still unpleasant, but he thanks them all the same. "This is from the rest of us," a Hyur blacksmith says, reaching forward and placing a small object in his hand. His eye widens as he gets a good look at it: in his palm, attached to a fine silver chain, sits Dalamud in miniature, perfect down to the finest detail. He can almost swear it glows. A Miqo'te carpenter steps forward, standing on her toes to reach up and take his hand. Monty frowns in confusion, but she merely smiles and brings a finger to the little moon, pressing down on the topmost spire. Monty's ears twitch as something within clicks, the moon's shell cracking open to reveal a sight that stops his heart. Bahamut glares up at him, coils and scales deftly carved and painted. He wants to drop it, but the small hands wrapped around his hold him steady. "Ne'er forget, Montague Morne," Mountain says, voice softer than he's ever heard. The Miqo'te steps back as he reaches a calloused hand over and closes Monty's fingers around the gift. "Ne'er forget th' things ye've seen, th' path tha' led t' t'day. Ye are where ye've been, what ye've done an' didn' do. Don' know who ye were 'fore ye found us, an' I don' know who ye'll be from now, but fer five cycles ye were a good man. "Fer five cycles, ye were a good man wit' us, an' we'll miss ye." Not for the first time in life, Monty can't find the words.

Monty stared at the man like he was crazy. Judging by his words, he was expecting that. The now-named Agile Wolf and Salaah brushed past him as they made for their boat, both looking rather off-put by their captain's words. He imagined everyone else looked much the same. Was this worth the trouble, he wondered? Sure, he'd be saving a few (tens of) thousand(s of) gil, but the already sketchy ride now had a distinct air of danger. He had been rather actively avoiding danger for a number of years... "I want a discount," he sighed, before adjusting his pack and following.

The Elezen sniffed a bit before doing as told and following the tailless Miqo'te, grumbling in his head about being called timid. He wasn't timid, was he? He was just uncomfortable around people, and shy, and nervous, and blessed Twelve he was timid. As he came to that horrible realization some sort of commotion began at the other end of the docks, which he quickly dismissed as not involving him. He sighed through the Miqo'te's introduction, though still caught the shorter man's name, and as Xha'li ducked down to rummage through his pack he cleared his throat. "Monty," he offered quietly to anyone listening.

A one-eyed Elezen wearing a long, ragged coat made his way hesitantly along the docks. He turned his head and twitched his ears as he weaved through the evening bustle, trying to keep as much distance from the ever-flowing crowd as possible. He paused mid-step, shifted his pack on his shoulder, mumbled to himself that he was probably making a huge mistake, shook his head and began again. The causeways rang with hawkers advertising their wares, from goods to fish to safe passage. He had no interest in the first, despised the second, and with each shout for the third his hopes dimmed a little more. He wasn't quite broke, but doing what amounted to charity for five years did not leave one swimming in gil. And, really, 50,000 for a damned ferry ride? Did everyone strike it rich after the Calamity and no one told him? "Passage to Limsa Lominsa, leaving at midnight! Any offer considered! Don't pay outrageous prices for that 'official' ferry when you can sail with us!" His ears perked, singling out the voice in the din. That was the best offer he'd heard all evening - rather depressing, given how vague it was, but he'd take what he could get. His eyes fell upon two women, a bright-haired Miqo'te, shouting and waving out into the crowd next to a dark Roegadyn. He slowly made his way forward. "U-um... 'Scuse me," he stammered, trying to grab their attention through his nerves. They turned to him, gazes searching, and he gulped. "Will... uh, will a thousand do?"

Dapper Bernie is dapper. I'd stick with the solid background, anything else would detract from the crabby elegance. Also: Easily recognizable as the dreaded crab, so no worries there. Keep up the good work.

The Beta Test Phase 3 Client Both the Windows and PS3 clients used for beta test phase 3 cannot be used for beta test phase 4 or official service. Please delete the client at the end of this beta test phase. Character Appearance Data Character appearance data saved during beta test phase 3 can be used when creating a character during beta test phase 4 and official service. Those who wish to use their appearance data should not delete the following folder: Windows My Documents -> My Games -> FINAL FANTASY XIV - A Realm Reborn (Beta Version) PlayStation®3 (From "XMB") Game → Saved Data Utility (PS3™) Official SE post on the subject.

You might know Montague Morne from... 1559-1566: Bustling back and forth between La Noscea and the Lominsan shipyards, working as a logger. 1566-1571: A lifer in the Maelstrom, serving tours both on and off shore. 1572: A participant in the Battle of Carteneau Fields. 1-5: Part of a traveling crew of repairmen working to fix the damage from the Calamity.

Sounds like fun. Seasonal seems appropriate, often enough to become kind of a tradition but spaced out so no one gets sick of it. Now, to think of a story...

[table] [tr] [td]Item Name[/td] [td]Drop Chance[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Unseasonable Coat[/td] [td]100%[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Worn Carpenter's Tools[/td] [td]80%[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Myths and Legends of Hydaelyn[/td] [td]20%[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]18gil[/td] [td]100%[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Eye Patch[/td] [td]100%[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Bubble Chocolate[/td] [td]50%[/td] [/tr] [/table] Unseasonable Coat: Old and out of fashion, this coat is likely to roast whomever is wearing it. Monty despised the cold to an unhealthy degree, and now you can, too. Worn Carpenter's Tools: Aged but well cared for, these tools provide everything needed for the aspiring woodworker. Monty used them to help rebuild after the Calamity; could be worth a quick buck. Myths and Legends of Hydaelyn: Little more than a book of children's tales, dog-eared and faded. Monty read it on sleepless nights - guess he won't be having any more of them. Gil: There are many things Monty was not, and a rich man is one of them. Maybe a barkeep will take pity and let you sniff the cheap stuff. Eye Patch: A bit self explanatory. Pretend you're blind, amuse your friends, annoy a pirate! No safety guarantees. Bubble Chocolate: A touch melted from being in the stuffy-coat's pocket, but chocolate is chocolate. Monty would have wanted you to have it.