Dubs

This is an aspect of the game I will have to get used to in terms of incorporating RP into the notion that one character can obtain / master all classes opposed to the more traditional single class role RP identity. It's sounds quirky but it feels like I've been caught cross dressing.:blush: "When did you learn the art of wind(aero), B'jaern?" ------------- *Eeep! hides behind tree, switches weapon and garb* *re-appears whistling nonchalantly* "What? Where? I have no idea what you're talking about" :lol:

Not too sure if this is an appropriate tangent however, with the onset of cross class skills do you guys intend to RP your acquirement of these skills with other LS or FC members? Asking them for tutelage etc. I ask this from a personal perspective because the whole "Ding! Look what I learned" concept seems to leave out for some potential relationship / mentor type RP scenarios with other characters who might offer more insight to those class specific abilities to foster personal growth.

You might know B'jaern from: Gridania Marketplace - courier and resident bane of price gougers Archers Guild - he checks in now and again to instruct White Wolves recruits the way of the bow and proper fletching Produce Stand- his family runs one near the marketplace- well known spiced cider Chocobo Stables - an avid racer and future breeder:chocobo: Prankster - if you have a pack of opo-opos obsessed with dry humping your leg, you might know him White Wolves - youth militia recruits will have affiliation Local taverns - known to throw some mean dice God's Quiver - the new kid Shrines to Nophica - frequents and leaves offerings Notice Boards - sometimes posts bounties for pelts Moogle Lore extraordinaire- sometimes it's just better to observe Candy kiosks - licorice hoarder / addict

Phew screen went black for a second thought I lost it. Here goes.

Chapter 2: Jailbreak It was eerily quiet in this wing of the lower ward, the echo of rat squeaking piercing the silence. Faint torchlight flickered across the stony walls lining the lallafel’s cell block. Inspecting her silvery hair leaning against a column, she reminisces about the simple amenities of life and scoffs at what she wouldn’t do for a simple tub of hot water. Another female lallafel sits down next to her sighing and staring at the waning and falling embers of an untended sconce. “We haven’t had a communication in three days, do you think we’ve been exposed?” she stretches with a whisper. Biting on and inspecting her finger nail, “Not sure but something’s going down because Ola mentioned that they were escorting all the miqo’te somewhere, could be another inspection or more indoctrination.” Rocking and folding her arms around her knees the other lallafel grumbles, “Or more experiments. Isn’t that why we’re here Mimori, to put an end to all this? Seems pointless if we’re just sitting here rotting away in these pens.” With a playful flick, “I know how you feel Majhala, but remember we only get one shot at this. Too many informants have lost their lives trying to figure out where they’ve been taking insurgent captives. Even if the plan works, we’re going to have more than our hands full if an Inquisitor shows up.” She shudders at the mention of Inquisitor. “Do you think they've located our crates? By Nymeia I hope not. Too much riding on this last batch,” Majhala utters. “Don’t think so. Using the inhibitor to slowly reverse the indoctrination takes time. With so many side affects it’s been hard to find those that have the constitution to manage the dosages. Sometimes even drives people crazy. Infiltrating and getting to Ba’srm took three months and this new batch has been pretty reliable with its withdrawal compensation rates. To say that he hasn’t turned on us is tough to say, he’s been so…” The sound of large frantic footsteps echoes from the entrance to the block. All the lallafel approach the front of their respective cells to get a better glimpse of what’s going on. Two guards a roegadyn and hyur can be seen discussing something. The resident hyur sentry posture shifts from complacency to immediate action and as he turns to close and lock up the main cell block doors, the roegadyn smashes his head against the doors knocking him out instantly. The two lallafels turn to each other with wide grins as the burly roegadyn approaches their cell. “It’s about time. Was starting get a flat butt,” Majhala cheers. “What’s the situation Quick Shroud?” asks Mimori. Fiddling with the key ring he finds the appropriate one and begins tounlocking the door when the prison alarm is sounds over head. “Most of the guards are outside with a few remaining at their posts. And yes we do have an Inquisitor here. I rushed down here as soon as I saw the slave carrier approaching. It’s only a matter of minutes before it gets here. The others are ready all we have to do is get to the armory and relay the other cell blocks so they can stock up.” The door creeks open and the female lallafel pour out. Quick Shroud hands the keys to Majhala who attends the other cells. Mimori jumps up upon a crate and blows a whistle between fingers to get everyone's attention. “I know a lot of you do not have combat training, but in order for us to get out of here together, you must fight.” She signals Ola exiting the cell Majhala recently opened to gather the others. “Ola here will keep you informed. Those that do have some experience head over to her!” She jumps down to meet up with Quick Shroud and Majhala near the exit of the block. “How many patrols are there between here and the armory Quick Shroud?” “It’s hard to say, it’s on a whole separate wing and we have to bypass the antechamber. Hopefully the chaos will divert a lot of the guards to the courtyard.” “Define chaos?" Majhala inquires. “That slave carrier I mentioned.” Pausing to look around the corner into the adjacent hall, “it's out of control.” A yawning jailer upon hearing the obnoxious ranting of one of the miqo’te signals for two others to follow him to the cell. “I have had just about enough of these shenanigans.” He stops for a moment just past the weeping miqo’te they placed in the first cell. “Who’s spraying the perfume?” “This heat, it’s unbearable,” one female miqo’te complains to another. She wipes the sweat away from her brow and sniffs the air the scent of lilac so heavy so intoxicating when a harrowing beguiling wail fills her ears from the first cell. She stands and others around stand with her in unison. Her breathing quickens she knows not why as others experiencing the same phenomenon look to each other in confusion and fear. Other occupants from adjacent cages all stand and turn their gaze to the miqo’tes and the guards opening the cell with the ranting lunatic. “Stand up filth before I raise the setting to your collar,” the jailer commands the hunched elderly miqo’te. Another louder wail entrances the miqo’te to their knees holding their hands against their ears. “That’s more like it.” he snorts in arrogance. Turning around, the jailer instructs one of the other two guards to go check on the screaming from the first cell. “She’s in labor!” the lallafel in the cage behind him yells. “So what! Sit down and shut up.” He aims the device at the lallafel when suddenly warm, red sputum fills his lungs spraying his fellow guard a couple feet away. Screaming at the sight of the elder miqo’te’s hand puncturing through the torso of the jailer, a light red haze arises around its head then clamps its enlarged fangs into the jailer’s jugular. At once other males hiss and scream pouncing on the barely lifeless jailer, tearing the limbs off as if they were delicate as an insect. The guard outside the cell attempts to use full setting on the shock collars but it only serves to irritate them. Female miqo’tes begin assaulting and bending the bars to their own cell screaming with ungodly rage. More males tackle and feast on the irritant, projectile blood from severed limbs flinging into the face of the shocked lallafel. A male miqo’te bares his elongated fangs reaching for her. The guard near the first cell begins to panic and heads toward the engine room attempting to bar the door behind him. He looks up fleetingly to see charging snarling miqo’te attacking the other cells and some heading for him with blinding speed. With the latch snapping securely into position he begins to backpedal, halberd quaking in his grasp looking around for any means of possible escape. Pitch black eyes of a screaming elderly female peer through the window causes his nerves to leave him, leaving a trickling feeling running down his greaves. The face disappears when two more enraged miqo’te charge the heavy metal door, loud indentations erupting with each thud. Running over the overhead grating to a crossway he attempts to climb a ladder up to the upper catwalk, the roar of the engine turbines booming below. Sounds of scraping claws on metal come from the door when it finally gives way, flying from its hinges. Three miqo’te emerge into the room sniffing the air hissing up to their prey barely holding onto a steel girder. Two of them leap and clutch the bars and inner footholds of the ships interior walls their acrobatic agility proving no difficulty in their pursuit. Horrifyingly fast and slowly closing in, the guard screams in panic slipping off the girder he was standing, falling into a whirling gory death causing the turbine to explode. “Beacon sighted, preparing approach. Hmm, appears nan Daegon has arrived already.” “Joy. This should be entertaining.” the pilot snickers. “Nothing like having a psychotic, three faced megalomaniac telling you how to….” A booming explosion rocks the ship, his head violently jerking up hitting the ceiling of the cockpit. With blood dribbling down his face, the pilot attempts to adjust his vizer and regain control. “@#)(*#!!!!!! What hit us!?” The co-pilot slowly crawls back into his chair inspecting the dash, a variety of alarms filling his ears. “Engine two is out, rerouting power!” “Do we have bulkhead control?! Don’t feel like dying of inhalation trying to land this thing.” “No it’s out, they have to go manual. I’m on it!” The co-pilot springs up first leaning to regain his balance from the irregular rocking of the ship, “I’ll initiate the sequence from here and unlock the security lever. It’s going to take them a minute to close.” “We don’t have a minute, just go. See if we have any cargo that’s still alive." “Will do.” The co-pilot unlatches the security lever for the pit bulkhead in the floor climbing down into the ships small living quarters. Looking back at the slow closing bulkhead he hears a cacophony of screaming, hissing from the corridor leading out to the engine room and brig. “What in the…@#(*&!!! They’re loose!” “What!!”the pilot yells. “Get back,” the screams of his friend fill his ear, the bulkhead hatch shutting firmly in place. “!&$*, losing altitude too fast, gotta keep her nose up.” The scrapping of claws and thudding of fists on the bulkhead can be heard just a dozen feet behind him. Quick Shroud shoulder charges the door into the antechamber with the two lallafel in tow. “It’s not far, almost there. One more walkway and we’ll hit the armory. Just be mindful of the big windows looking out to the courtyard. We don’t want any undue attention from the guards along the balconies.” With the walkway just ahead the three can make out the increasing volume of panicking soldiers outside. Majhala heads to a window to take a peak, her eyes and mouth a gasp. “Whoa! You weren’t kidding!” “You’ll want everyone to get between the vanguards my dear Korvus. My paling barrier should prevent any damage to us or our equipment but it has to be timed perfectly so don’t get caught flat footed,” Daegon’s maiden voice chuckles. A deafening roar of engines befalls the courtyard, scattering frightened soldiers heading toward the palisade for cover. The carrier crashes through a cliffside control tower. Debris of concrete, metal and glass speeding through fleshy soldier bodies. An instant from impact, the vessel spins into a horizontal three–sixty eventually reaching the ground bursting shrapnel and dust flying everywhere. Rolling over soldiers, crushing all who fail to get to safety, the momentum of the ship continues to skid eventually crashing into one of the surrounding prison walls. The Inquisitor’s maiden face swivels back facing a coughing Doctor Korvus and the others. “See. I told you would not be disappointed.” The gangly Daegon pirouettes and begins dancing amongst the injured and deceased alike. “Tra-la la! Such sweet music in the air” kicking an injured soldier out of his way. Halting for a moment and looking toward the wreckage, Daegon raises his hand and snaps his finger, “Time to turn on the amplifier good Doctor! It’s time to finish this purge." TBC

I'm leaning toward the :chocobo: chocobo raising and racing route appealing to B'jaern's empathy with wildlife and taxonomy. That's why I'm hoping there's going to be some kind of breeding type option. Also having an obsession with everything moogle doesn't hurt to round up some comical quirks. Even if he's caught in that stereotypical romance novel embrace (que music) and leaning in, if there is any mention of moogle lore or new behavior it's complete roadrunner dust trail animation.

Chapter 1: Sorrow, Jubilation and Malice The echoes of shuffling feet bounce fleetingly among the high arches of the auditorium ceiling. It was his first time working in the field, the itching desire to prove himself made his grasp clumsier than usual, dropping an empty vial to the floor. “You’d best wish your hands be more steadfast once testing begins,” a voice scolded from around the corner. “The other researchers don’t need a giant flittering gnat flailing about the laboratory. And if you think I am as tolerant you would not dare such incompetence around his grace. You are here to perform without question, to obey, understand?” “Yes sir, Dr. Korvus sir,” he stutters, beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face. The gaunt, bald headed hyur steps forward violating the young man’s personal space, “Oh and just a friendly bit of advice, don’t do that, especially when you first see him,” casually patting the side of his disciple’s face. “He loathes it.” The adolescent hyur nonchalantly brushes the sweat away with his sleeve in order to save face, nodding compliantly. “Make sure you get this stasis cocoon to the landing pad before the carrier arrives, my colleagues shall do the rest. If you have difficulty, get a roegadyn to help you. Also,” he snaps his fingers repeatedly in order to remember, “have the amaljaa retrieve the miqo’te slaves from the lower ward and bring them to the palisade near the pad. I’m off to receive his grace; the missive mentioned a treat, whatever that may be.” “He’s coming here?” the enormous armored miqo’te sighed grabbing the syringe from a compartment underneath the desk. The new recruit grimaced at the sight of the injection discoloring the veins of his superior’s neck. “Yes sir. He and his escort arrive within the hour.” “Fantastic! Let’s give… mmmph …his grace… the grand welcome he so deserves,” gesturing in false bravado. Picking up his helmet and over-sized two-handed axe, another knock emanates from the door. “Doctor, do come in,” nodding to the sentry to proceed. “Spare me your insipid sarcasm Ba’srm the necessary preparations better be in place?” “Relax. You bookworms always wet yourself when there’s any threat of imminent danger around. Accompanied by his usual vanguard is he not?” The doctor shrugs, acknowledging the warrior’s reasoning following him out of the conference chambers. The crashing of waves can be heard hundreds of feet below the edge of the cliffside landing pad. A solitary flashing beacon guides the way when an utterly immense floating dreadnaught escapes back into the black clouds in the distance. A small vessel is seen jettisoning from its much larger host heading toward the reception. “The generators for the amplifier are at optimum efficiency,” one of the researchers whispered. “Was he of any use?” Korvus replied. “He was more in the way than anything but he did show some promise in calibrating the ceruleum spectrometers.” “I see,” he murmured giving his apprentice an approving nod. When the ship lands, an organized precession splits into two columns, their banners lining the path from the landing pad. “Is the perimeter secure?” the warden asked. “All protocols have been met sir.” Ba’srm leans over the railing of the stockade overlook to glimpse the three dozen miqo’te slaves within the palisade, “Why just the mi…is he mocking me?” he snarls under his breath. “I’m sorry sir it was a request from Doctor Korvus.” He motions for the sentry to return to his post. “I guess the good doctor and I have much more to discuss after this farce is over”. The apprentice stretches to steal a glance through the group of researchers in front of him, the sound of the rear bay doors to the airship slowly opening and descending upon the ground. The echoing clang of metal legs and hissing of steam come forth out of the ship. “Vanguards,”he whispers excitedly to one of the researchers. The nearest one leans over smiling at the enthusiasm, “These ones are a bit different. The Inquisitor had them specifically customized for his overly ostentatious dramatic flair, hence all the spikes.” Two ten foot tall silvery monstrosities marched forward while his first glimpse of nan Daegon comes into view in between flickering banners. There was subtle elegance in the way the white cloaked and cowled figure strode between his armored bodyguards. The airship takes off with a wave of the warden’s arm. “These Inquisitors always give me that queasy feeling, especially this one.” “What do you expect when this one has a particular obsession for reverse engineering classified magitek,” two roegadyn banner men share a whispered exchange ten yalms from the passing figure when the rhythmic stomping stops only accompanied by an eerie silence. The heads of the two ebony vanguards swivel around revealing a beautiful ebony metallic face of a wide smiling woman with white light strobing through pupilless eyes. The banner men then peer to their left, the inquisitor’s cowl was lifted from the back revealing the same ebony face and strobing light eyes, his torso remaining ever forward. With a feminine chuckle and lowering his cowl he ventures forward, the clunking metal and whistling of steam follow. “What just happened?” the apprentice chortled. “You’ll see soon enough” a different researcher grinned. “Your grace, I hope your transit wasn’t too uneventful?" a kneeling Korvus greeted. “Oh never” a metallic feminine voice cooed, an outstretched hand leaning against Korvus’s lips. “Rise my dear Korvus, as I said this evening’s festivities will not fail to disappoint,” pointing up to the now red-orange moon. Emerging from the back of the group, the apprentice finally got the full profile of what stood before him. The lower limbs appeared to be fentlocked in nature much like a reptilian beastman or equine while the upper forelimbs exhibiting elongation and streamlined by the golden armor even encapsulating the overly long slender fingers. Turning toward him, the apprentice kneels with his face toward the ground, the quickening pulse accelerating within his veins. “Korvus you sly imp, is this your lovely assistant? Stand boy; let me see your face.” The cold metal fingers trace the contours of his jaw and cheekbones. “Such a beautiful face no stubble either,” turning the young man’s head to the side. He captures a short peripheral of the vanguards near him, all staring at him with a different face, a white fool frowning at him, the visage of the other researchers is that of predatory elation. “Can he be my present Korvus?” the ebon maiden swooned. “Well your grace, it’s entirely up to him.” The golden fingers twist the man’s face to meet the flashing gaze of the white lidless eyes. A sudden feeling of dread then came over the young man when his fate was determined by the crawling droplet of perspiration trickling down onto a narrow golden finger. His smile then turned into a shuddering frown. “They never lie you know,” the Inquisitor mused wiping the disgusting droplet onto the tunic of the sobbing man. With a slow tortuous thrust, Daegon hoisted the body above his so he could see the terror. The man screamed down at the new face that swiveled into position. Four growing metallic horns slowly being protruding forward around the helmet. A dark red demon-esque persona took over, its eyes glowing with fury aiming its gaze into his eyes. The man could no longer blink, could no longer smell, nor breathe, his body went limp. “Such a shame,” the maiden’s voice giggled, tossing the faceless body to the ground and brushing his bloodied hand on a clean researchers tunic. “Why isn’t everybody else laughing? LAUGH!” he commanded with a loud guttural growl. The entire courtyard and surrounding perimeter erupt in feigned laughter. “Are you quite finished” Ba’srm yelled, the laughter dying. “Miqo’te are so cute when they get mad, it’s those ears. They way they just flatten rarrr” the inquisitor claws playfully. “I tire of this insolence and waste of my time. If there is no reason for this charade I’ll make sure that van Baelsar hears of this personally”, irritated he begins to order troop withdrawal. “Tsk tsk tsk, speaking of charades, over exerting your own self importance a bit too far now are we, especially for undercover insurgent,” Daegon taunts tossing up vials of inhibitor drug into the air then crashing to the ground. "How do you know if it wasn't he that sent me?" Ba’srm halts, looking around in denial the attempts to reach for his axe as numerous sentries swarm around him. “Disarm him and bring him to me.” “Your grace!?” Korvus interrupts intrepidly. Pivoting toward the doctor facing the direction of the landing pad a streaking smoldering slave carrier is seen in the distance careening out of control toward the prison. “Ahh the main event, places everyone” the metallic maiden voice squeals. Ba’srm looks up to the skies uttering a soft solemn prayer, “Azeyma help us.”As soon as he finishes the last syllable Daegon grabs his neck and pulls him closer to his frowning helm. “It’s not going to help you at all. I've something better in store for you”, the sobs mocking him. TBC

Sorry, in need of collective community bonding moment.:love: Did anyone else have a spontaneous nostalgic nerdgasm when they saw this? q8RuIXX4ntc

Hi Callipygian, I didn't really get this information from anywhere. It's just pure Dubs created fiction, from the ol noodle. I'm kind of just running with it :cactuar: to see where it takes me and if it comes down to someone way more knowledgable about the Garlean /Allagan technology helping me a long the way so be it. Always have a willing ear open for input.

Thanks a bunch Freelance. You've really provided me with some insight and much needed perspective about how to approach this. The gradual discovery of how my character might approach a racial connection, whether or not he can deal with being a possible pariah in the Miqo'te community as well as discovering who he is or even if he really wants to know why. I guess it's all up to the linkshell leader and willing participants who wish to accept this kind of character arc within their own personal RP community. That is until SE releases a bunch of historical information in which we all have to experience a collective retconning enema. :dazed:

The idea of automatically changing your hair color and hair style too might seem a little "clone-ish". Well then again we are all pretty much going to find some means to meander around our individuality with everyone getting the same armor / weapon models. Ahh vanity. Actually, the giant waffle iron monk weapons are strangely appealing to me. *belly grumble*

I totally agree with you two, to an extent. Hear me out. I think the appropriate feeling that I am experiencing is conundrum. If at all the concept that I am thinking of is a Miqo'te that doesn't understand what it means to be a member of it's race which pretty much epitomizes what we are trying to establish here, the definition of a cultural framework while carefully sidestepping the formulation of some authoritative lexicon of cultural standards shared between RP communities. The problem is, I think this might be inevitable. I have no problem writing backstory as long as I can keep it non-obstructive or establishing a constant that is contrary to the consensus of what it means to be Miqo'te and all the cultural framework definitions that eventually evolve from what little information we have. I think part of the fascination of a sort of Miqothropology (Sorry made up word) is creating taboos, sociological dynamics between different tribes (Sun Seeker especially), tribe specific holidays, acknowledging specific pathological disorders maybe strains that are restricted to certain tribes etc. It's the proverbial Pandora's Box of who's toes am I going to step on because an illusory high council says "Lalalalala nope can't happen, impossible". Back to my concept. Here's another dimension to the angle I was thinking. I have been interested in the notions of Allagan Empire's delvings into genetic research on other races and the Garlean Empire's obsession with replicating the technology. Maybe keep it specific to a particular legion. That is in essence who the Eohji are. Genetically grown Miqo'te sent to infiltrate tribes to produce a specific genetic mutation. Could you transpose this idea to other races? Sure why not. Is it completely unfeasible that the notion of the Allagan Empire having this capability? Why not? Like I said, a slippery slope.

Hey guys and gals, Ok I'll admit , I have yet to play FFXIII, I know blasphemy right? I decided to skip the current console generation to solely keep to PC gaming. Not sure if this has come up in any other threads and honestly I'm a bit too lazy to dig at the moment. Anyways, what's your thought on this? Do you think it's controversial, conflicting to the current story arc from an RP standpoint or meh go with the flow? From my perspective I'm a bit more "meh go with flow-ish". 6THblrX01N4

Gonna have to dust off my copy of that DVD. Listening to that tune is driving me to want to drink in a merry way of course.

Hey all, I just wanted some input about RPing a Miqo'te with no current tribe. In fact he really has no idea about his racial culture whatsoever besides natural base instincts identifying more with Lallafell type mannerisms (He was raised by one). His base race is Sun-Seeker (in game) but the lineage of his tribe isn't really on the main list. I'm basically just creating one from scratch that diverged from the beastkin-scalekin totem based tribal system pre fifth Umbral Age. The idea of a lost tribe is based on the race that Miqo'te evolved from. (I understand this opens up a whole new can of worms-which can induce synapse screeching in logic centers). Some subtle hints can derived from my backstory below. Do you find this kind of character concept to conflicting to current style Miqo'te RP and or should RP be confined with what tribal lore we currently have within the time frame? Or do you think it's entirely up to the linkshell and it's leaders to accept the concept? Is deviation too problematic or refreshingly innovative? Thoughts.

Thanks Teardrop. I look forward to the input.

[align=center]"Rabid teeth with gnashing maws...[/align] [align=center]"Screams of rage from bloodstained claws...[/align] [align=center]"Watch for signs and heed your ears...[/align] [align=center]"When lilac comes reassure your fears...[/align] [align=center]"With the Mother's wail,we'll all rise ...[/align] [align=center]"No escape from Flame Tail's cries..[/align] [align=center] [/align] [align=center]-Eohji Children's Prayer[/align] [align=center] [/align] [align=center] [/align] [align=center] [/align] Prologue: The Night of Hunter's Moon Sixth Astral Era , Day 23, Year 1557, Ala Mhigo Outskirts A violent rumbling and a high pitched hum awake her from her unconciousness. The accumulation of strange sensations made her almost fade back into the darkness. As her eyes began to focus, a smiling face of another miqo'te greeted her, cradling her head in her kneeling lap. "Shhhh, be at ease, you're safe for the moment," the elder miqo'te caresses her ears, inspecting the garb and tattoos of the one laying in her lap. Raising her head, she looks around bewildered as the budding fear begins to sprout into her psyche. Numerous other races in cages similar to hers line the elongated airship cabin. Across from her she can see a diminutive creature leaning against the bars sobbing in despair. The Lallafel briefly wipes away her tears once she’s noticed and manages to give a beleaguered smile only to jump back as an armored figure bangs her cage with a halberd. “Stop your mewling slave”. Beside her cage are male miqo’tes young and old alike, some barely conscious, others tending their wounds. “What is your name my dear?” Sitting up and rubbing the back of her head responding with a wince, “M’Haeli.” As soon as her voice is heard the elder female’s eyes widen and ears perk. The elder female looks around at her fellow occupants oblivious to the tone. Hearing the accent, an elder male comes closer to their cell. “Let me take a better look at you.” He reaches through the adjacent bars and gently turns her chin to reveal her tattoos and necklace and then to her bulbous belly. “Impossible,” he whispered in both fear and amazement. “How much longer,” a voice came from behind. “Not long, get back to your post and get them ready for landing. Make sure the shock collar triggering is calibrated. I wasn’t overly fond of the mess you grunts left us last time." “Messy business that,” the co-pilot grumbled. “Lucky we didn’t mention it to Cearnus nan Daegon or you would have been stripped of rank and fed to the coeurls.” “The minister loves his test subjects and bringing them to him headless isn’t what I’d call a productive day,” the pilot chortled. “Oh and relocate that one female miqo’te to an empty cell. He was especially interested in that one.” The guard salutes then exits the cockpit. “What is it?” she whispered to him. The old miqo’te squirms toward the small circular window of his cell attempting to peer at the passing clouds. “I can’t see it,” he murmurs in agitation. “See what?” she said. “The moon”, he replied, sitting back down against the bars adjusting the uncomfortable collar around his neck. “You don’t know what she is do you?” A loud grating metal sound emanates further down the corridor, M’Haeli notices the tension and fear rise in the hall as the clang of metal boots echo closer with each step. She backs up and huddles against the metal wall as the elder female comforts her, the guards stop at their cell. “This one,” the guard points to M’Haeli. She looks to both the elders and to the other young and middle aged females around her. “Leave her alone!” the elder screams, hovering over the frightened youth. “Outta the way or I’ll,” the guard presses the button on the device anyways. The elder convulses violently and falls back against the wall. “See told ya. Take her down to the first cell,” he orders the other three. One guard grabs M’Haeli by the hair and yanks her up laughing at her futile clawing attempts when she suddenly feels a wrenching pain from her belly. “No!”she moans while the others grab her feet. As the cell door closes the elder male reaches through the bars to the female recovering from her outburst and grasps her hand consolingly. As the troupe of guards take their prisoner down the hall the old male glances at his brethren all noticing the whiff of the scent. “Lilac?” he mutters in disbelief. Everyone else appeared confused by this ever so slight trace as he returns to the window, the overwhelming anxiety quickening the pace of his heart. The old shaman was just a loon he told himself, his breath fogging the window. The airship banked when the orange hue gleamed through the cloudy sky. He wiped away the condensation to reveal his terror. The female lallafel sniffed the air and looked to her kin. “What’s that smell?”The others in her cage simply shrugged at her as she turned around to look at the stirring miqo’te. An older one begins laughing hysterically. Other miqo’te give him space for they know what’s soon to come. M’Haeli stumbles through to door falling to her knees into small puddle of her own vomit. She could hear the guards laughing at her prompting her to break into tears. Wiping away her mouth she crawls to the corner sobbing when another kick from her abdomen doubles her over in agony. Down the corridor, she can hear the faint laughter of the older male. “What’s gotten into you,” the elder female reaches out to the male as he clenches his head between his arms, pacing back and forth in the corner of his cell. “She must….she must…it’s all true haha..it’s true, no longer myth, no longer fable..she’s here, in the flesh and it’s going to happen." “What’s going to happen old fool?” an agitated male growls. The females in the next cell mumble to themselves taken aback by the tone of the other male as tension raises the hairs on the nape of their necks. “If you don’t quiet down they’ll come back,” the elder female pleaded. As she finished her sentence he continues to gaze at the window laughing louder and louder. “Pffsshha, it has to end someway,” he snorts. “Better this way, she has to.” “She has to what?” the lallafel whispers obviously frightened. The old miqo’te scrambles crazily to the front of the cage, kneeling down pushing his face into the bars to be at eye level to the lallafel. “If we want to live….she has to die. Now! She has to die. She has to die. We’re all going to die!” his laughter echoing down the corridor reaching M’Haeli’s ears, clenching her teeth to keep the pain at bay, tears rolling down her cheeks. TBC

:moogle: Hi all, First and foremost I'd like to commend you all on a wonderful job of providing everyone with the cornucopia of information to get us all started. I'll start with a short dossier about myself:8-) Age: 36 Gender: Male Time Zone:EST (NE Ohio) Occupation: Medical Imaging (MRI, CT, X-ray) MMO History: Ultima Online (Late 90s), NWN1, SWG(PreCU), WoW(Burning Crusade). FFXI(Garuda), NWN2( Moonlight & Shadows ), GW1&2, Neverwinter(sigh). I would consider myself an avid RPer in the terms of an environment that allowed for complete immersion, however, I have yet to really dabble into large scale MMO RP due to the numerous distractions that prevent me getting in the mood. I'll elaborate. My primary lore focus stemmed from 3.0 and 3.5 Forgotten Realms D&D which enabled me to provide customized content as a GM & Builder on the NWN2 server listed above. We were a strict bunch with heavy RP based guidelines: Naming conventions ,story application, metagaming enforcement etc. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I felt that there was more control in educating our community to fit our RP standards and reflect the level of immersion that we desired with the content that we could build to foster personal character growth & development and member satisfaction. When you have that chemistry of everyone who is on board as well as the right platform that's what leads to memorable characters and triggers the nostalgia. To date I haven't really experienced that "place you call home" feeling again that I did back then.:frustrated: This is why I am currently here and hope I can rekindle that creative aether from those good ol days with the help from a new community. Even though the platform is a bit more restrictive I'll give it my best shot. So I guess I'll start with a question for the RP community beta testers. Do you think this game has the right combination of tools and mechanics to foster an immersive RP experience for someone RP spoiled like me?