Nikolai

No worries! Life happens; take all the time you need. On a related note, I'll be going out of town with my family on the 10th. I'll have my laptop with me, but I doubt I'll be online too often for the duration of the trip. I'll be returning on the 16th though, and I'll be able to check up on the thread every-so-often in the evenings, so hopefully it won't be too much of an issue. D:

(Oh, man. I'm just imagining the accent. I love it.) As Antrekk stood towering over the crowd with confidence, having so brazenly inserted himself into the conversation, the midlander man shifted in demeanor once more; he now looked quite indignant. "Bah! Nonsense, she needs no hat! Here..." With another grand motion, he opened the left side of his coat, revealing pockets stuffed with all manner of odd contraptions; he began rifling through them all, until he procured a small vial of thick, translucent green cream. With a surprisingly dashing, though rather devilish smile, he suavely presented it to the woman, his now free left hand outstretched to point at it as he held the vial delicately in the other hand. "You'll like this one. This here is an alchemical substance of my design that I like to call Sun-Be-Gone! You merely massage the ointment into your skin, and instantly, you are warded from even the most insufferable heat!" He attempted, then, to press the vial into the hands of the woman; the polished glass was refreshingly cool to the touch. "You may consider that a gift; free of charge," he said with a satisfied nod, followed by a quick, mocking smirk directed at Antrekk.

Wounded by the woman's disinterest, the man set his hands decisively at his hips and seemed to pout. However, as the conversation redirected itself towards the other woman's plight, his posture promptly recovered, and he once again seemed to teem with energy. "Hm, yes, indeed! No need of this dullard," he scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at the Roegadyn. "Pray indulge me, precisely what sort of an establishment is it that you seek to open?"

In response to the Roegadyn man, the hyur simply shrugged. "Well, let me see if I understand. Your problem," he said, motioning to the girl, "is that you feel the rental fee for this stand is overpriced, whereas you, sir," he said, acknowledging the Roegadyn man with a nod, "feel that your fee is perfectly reasonable. Is my assessment of the situation accurate?" However, before anyone could answer, the trio was then approached by another miqo'te woman, who had apparently lost her hat. Without hesitation, the man responded with a great certainty, raising his right index finger into the air, "I have not! However," he continued, using his finger to gesture wildly, pointing all over with incredible confidence and looking a little foolish, "perhaps I can interest you in a scope? For only 500 gil, you'll be able to see several malms further than one could ever hope with just the naked eye. What say you?"

A sturdy young midlander man with long, matted brown hair was standing in the Octant, mulling over one of the aforementioned flyers. "Awfully vague," the man thought to himself, brushing some dirt from his long, sooty white coat, "but this could be just the sort of thing I've been looking for..." Just as he had that thought, his internal monologue was interrupted by a miqo'te woman shouting nearby. Vulgarities were commonplace in fair Limsa Lominsa, it seemed, though not often at such a volume. He looked over to see the woman locked in an argument with a Roegadyn man. Never one to pass on an opportunity to insert himself into the problems of others, he brusquely and with an air of great purpose strode over to the squabbling pair, and, patting each of them harshly on the back, bellowed out with a great smile, "Well, well! What seems to be the problem here, gents?"

Awesome. Puppetmaster happened to be my favorite job in FFXI. I loved how intricate it was, and I just love the style of it; the automatons are adorable~ I've been trying to whip up a Puppetmaster class for my setting, but it's proven rather daunting; there's so much to keep track of! Most of the attachments were easy enough to translate, but there are a lot of them. I've made it so maneuvers are essentially swift actions, allowing a puppetmaster to piggy-back them onto other actions so that one doesn't have to spend several rounds just stacking them. I also want to include a burden/overload system. I've even got some ideas as to how it would all work, but... like I said, lots to keep track of, and all for just for a handful of NPCs! It may turn out so stressful that I'd end up avoiding the use of them! As none of my PCs care to play PUP, I probably shouldn't even bother pouring so much energy into it, but, y'know... it's my favorite class. :< Haha, I guess what I'm getting at is, how did you guys manage it?

Oh, wow! Always good to see other table top FF players. Personally, my friends and I use this system as a base: http://www.returnergames.com/ord/index. ... e_Rulebook I've been putting together a campaign set in Vana'diel for my friends to play through, and in the meantime another of my friends is running a game that's more similar to a cross between Warhammer and FFT. Both required a number of alterations to the mechanics, but I feel FF lends itself much better to a d10 system, not to mention this system was specifically made for FF-themed games to begin with. Also, three cheers for the puppetmaster I hope she wins~

At the woman's beckon, Fejar approached hesitantly. At her words, he simply nodded. She was right; it was time to observe. What a display it was... it would seem their culture allowed for public, unrestrained discussion of assassination in broad daylight. Was the act of murder, then, acceptable as well? He pondered for a moment. This city was fascinating-- to observe, at any rate, but he could not live here. How could anyone? Yes, as soon as he had the money and supplies, he would travel elsewhere... but what if murder was the only means of earning your keep in this place? He shuddered at the thought; he did not think himself capable. He wished he could just leave, but now was not the time. There was something bigger at work here, and he had a feeling that this woman knew what it was. Besides, he was guaranteed a place to sleep safely here tonight. He thought back to the lalafell from the alley. He had said to ask for someone... "the fisher", was it? He stood, watching. Was the fisher here amongst the crowd? Or perhaps this eccentric man was the one they sought? Now did not seem a good time to ask, and so he remained vigilant; time would tell.

Within moments, they had arrived at the Drowning Wench. None too soon, either, Fejar supposed; he moved hastily, for the noontime sun bore heavily down upon his fair exposed skin, and as expected, there had been far too many curious eyes. To his relief, none had made an effort to converse with him, and so quickly and without a word, the pair moved along. Now, here they were, at the morbidly-titled inn where they would find food and lodging. Finally, Ko broke the silence. Did she just call him a lamb? ... Not too far off, he supposed. However, such an implication... He began to wonder if he had gotten involved in something he did not yet comprehend. He knew his hands would inevitably get dirty if he were to remain here long, as he was quickly coming to realize just what sort of a city Limsa Lominsa was. He further reasoned that if he was going to make a living here, he would be in need of a friend, and so far, this hardened woman was the closest he had. Perhaps she saw also benefit in having made his acquaintance; it sounded as though she was offering him work. Although, she had just been mugged; he wondered if she had any means of paying him. His curiousity got the better of him, though, and he decided he would hear her out. "Pray tell," he began, attempting to brush his hair aside once again, "what do you suggest?" He then took notice of an eccentric looking man rallying the bar-goers with a rousing speech. "Moreover, precisely who is that man over yonder?"

Vijako D: Where have you gone? Kinda need you in order to progress T_T

Stopped in his tracks by the woman's firm grasp, Fejar grew tense. She was certainly being awfully demanding. Her map was marked the same as his, with the Drowning Wench circled, and little notes here and there. The inn was not far, but he did so dread drawing attention. Alas... He sighed, relaxing slightly as he turned to face her. "Very well, the new cloak can wait." His voice and expression had in them subtle hints of frustration. "To the Drowning Wench, then?"

*shrugs* Well now that he's no longer covered by his cloak, I felt a more thorough description was in order anyway. Just curious though, where in the city is this all taking place? If we're already in the Hawker's Alley, then I need to make a minor edit to my most recent post. Nothing too huge.

Fejar was visibly relieved when she declined; she was, after all, still covered from head to toe in the muck of the alley, and even if she were not, it would have been awfully awkward. He relaxed and allowed his arm to hang at his side. Then, suddenly, the woman's demeanor changed, and she demanded to have his cloak? His eyes narrowed slightly as he once again stumbled a few steps backward. "My- my cloak...?" Was she threatening him? No, it did not seem so; she was simply exhausted, and it was making her irate, he reasoned. "Well, I suppose I can always weave another," he acquiesced, swiftly setting his pole on the ground, removing his possessions from his cloak's pockets and and placing them into his vest's many pouches. In another swift motion, he shed the ample cloak, and handed it to the woman. "You can keep that," he said wryly, looking her over. Although she no longer smelled of the alley, she was yet irrevocably covered in filth. No amount of laundering would ever remove the inevitable stains... Fejar retrieved his pole and brushed some dirt from it with his free hand. Without his cloak, he looked awfully thin. He wore a snugly fitting, long-sleeved dark brown hempen vest with the cuffs turned up and folded back. The vest had six small, rectangular pouches about the chest, each with similar, but differing black buttons; they each looked full enough to burst. He also wore flowing slacks of a lighter brown tucked into high leather boots that matched his vest. Overall, his outfit was very brown and very neat, in stark contrast to his messy, rust-colored hair that ever insisted upon settling over his right eye. Although a Seeker of the Sun, his skin was very fair. He preened apprehensively. "Well, it seems I now have a need to gather a few materials, so perhaps I shall meet with you later." He simpered at her self-consciously, and laughingly added, "Do be safe, won't you?" With that, he futilely brushed his hair aside once more, and started off towards the Hawker's Alley.

No, you were right, it's a full cloak. In my character's profile, it's described as "an ample dark brown cloak with a hood". Sorry I didn't describe it better within the story itself. x_x

"Goodness," Fejar began quietly to himself after a moment's hesitation, looking sheepishly at the woman, "what a strange little man." He looked over the map he had been handed. "The Drowning Wench;" he read, "a lovely name, no?" He looked up at the woman again. She was a strange one herself. He struggled to understand her accent; where was she from, he wondered? Perhaps he would ask her later, when the time felt more appropriate. Fejar pulled his hood back over his head. Although he knew when he left home that few would have ever seen a male miqo'te, he was yet unaccustomed to the gawking droves of curious eyes that followed him on the streets. He acknowledged that a mere hood would not sufficiently hide his gender, but at least this way he could not see people as they stared, and he felt comfortable. Fejar turned to face the woman completely, and began again, gesturing somewhat extravagantly as he spoke, "Well, although I do not suppose a woman such as yourself truly needs an escort, it appears as though our destination is one and the same, so..." he turned again such that his left side faced her, offering her his arm and nervously, awkwardly looking over his shoulder at her, summoned a strained smile, "perhaps you would like to take my arm?"

Yeah no worries, I was trying to direct it away myself, I just felt that the guard needed to do that one last thing before leaving. Now that that's taken care of, we can continue. :3 And you have nothing to be embarrassed about; if anything, I feel my posts have been to short. T_T

PUP was the same way; I don't think we'll ever see anything quite like it. It really was a lot of fun; it kept me playing for months after my linkshell fell apart. It easily could've been the most expensive class to play, though; I found myself dropping millions of gil to collect all of the attachments... but personally, I found it well worth it.

"Ah? Oh, oh dear..." Fejar faltered, fumbling the bottle slightly. "I... Well, I simply cannot afford it." He said with a grimace, and attempted to hand the bottle back. "I am embarked upon a..." he paused, "pilgrimage of sorts. Although, I, too, could use lodging..." Guard Todd sighed. He really did not like this at all. "Well, Sweeper," he began with a subtle hint of contempt, "it sounds as though you have things under control here, and I suppose I have no reason to suspect either of the two of you of foul play, so I just have one more question and then I must return to my post. Miss-- Ko, was it? Were you able to identify your assailant? Any features you could give me would assist greatly in the location and apprehension of the criminal." He hated it. No reason to suspect either of them my ass. He knew how the city worked; she had done something to deserve that beating. The arrival of the Sweeper only added to his suspicions, but it was clear he would not receive any information from them that could lead to a conviction of any sorts. He wondered what it was that the bottle contained, though. He would check it out later. For now, he resolved to simply finish his report and be away; he was wasting his time here, but perhaps he could yet track the attacker. One criminal off the streets was better than none.

Sorry about the wait. A group I volunteer with was coming to an end yesterday, and so we were all throwing a "last hurrah" sort of party, and I ended up busy with that all day. Got a post coming in a bit. RIP PUP, you shall be missed, if only by me D:

The Silver Anvil... First founded by the mysterious "Mistress Hiname" as a general crafter's guild, it is currently undergoing many changes under Nikolai Petrilio's leadership. It is said that Nikolai seeks to expand the guild's horizons to include foragers, hunters, and mercenaries alike. With this bold new direction, he hopes to breath new life into Hiname's flickering dream... --- So exactly what is the Silver Anvil, then? The Silver Anvil is a moderate RP guild that strives to provide top-notch quality goods and services to the people of Eorzea. To this end, we need people of all disciplines! Disciples of the Hand form the core of the guild. Without our dedicated artisans, we would have very little to sell! Among this discipline, we are currently particularly looking for: -- Tanners -- Weavers -- Armorsmiths -- Goldsmiths Disciples of the Land are also essential. Without dedicated gatherers, our artisans are forced to use precious time venturing into the wilderness in search of materials themselves. Finally, Disciples of War and Magic are also quite welcome for a number of different roles: they can defend our gatherers and artisans; they can hunt for materials that can only be obtained through combat; they can outfit themselves with our latest creations, showcasing them to the community; and particularly ambitious disciples of war and magic might be hired by other guilds for (hopefully) lucrative missions (at least IC). So whatever your preferred role, the Silver Anvil could use your support! We hope to become a one-stop shop for any and all needs. "Looking for a new weapon? Look no further! Need an extra bit of manpower to help with that levequest? We've got you covered!" We'd like to make these promises a reality, and if you think you can help us get there, you can apply here! Planned Events: The Silver Anvil hosts an open market and auction outside of the alchemist's guild in Ul'dah twice every month; generally on the second and fourth Saturday. Meant to be an in-character flea market, all role-players are invited to buy, sell, and trade goods, be they crafted, harvested, or hunted. At the end of the event, items of particular interest are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Cross-Guild interaction: Eventually, we hope to have many goods and services available to other linkshells, such as, but not limited to: -- Mercenaries-for-hire -- Large-scale shipments of goods -- Appraisal -- Basic commissions However, as we are still a relatively small guild, we are limited in what we are able to do. That said, we very much enjoy inter-linkshell RP opportunities. If you have an idea for a joint event or would like to request a service, contact Nikolai Petrilio in-game, or send me a PM. tl;dr

"Well hold on, now," the guard maintained, "What happened here? I'll need to file a report in regards to the happenings here; I'll need both of your names, and for you both to tell me anything and everything you know. Leave nothing out. Understood?" "Fejar," the young man replied, nodding. He removed his hood and brushed his bronze hair from his eyes, which promptly settled back into his face, seemingly of its own volition. His sharp, brown eyes wide, he looked to the girl, and continued, "I discovered her lying there," then looking back to the guard, "no more than a few minutes prior to seeking your aid." "... That's all?" By the tone of his voice, the guard must have expected him to know more. He was notably less warm in demeanor now. Fejar simply nodded. The guard slowly nodded back, then looked to the girl, and asked, "Very well then, let's hear your side of the story, shall we?"

Hey, well thanks! Yours are really awesome, too. When I saw this thread, I knew I had to get involved somehow. I've actually never done any forum-based RPing before, so I'm just glad that I'm not butchering the thread or anything. As far as a set posting order goes, my schedule's kind of all over the place, so I don't know how well I'd be able to adhere to that sort of thing. I could certainly try my best, though?

The guard winced empathetically at the woman's evident pain. "No, you are not fine. We need to touch you to the aetheryte." Looking back to Fejar, he called, "You there; can you help me carry her?" As the miqo'te woman crashed into the alley wall, it had become clear to Fejar that she was indeed in sore need of attention. Resolutely, he announced, "I can do one better." Hastily, he joined the guard at her side. His figure looming over hers, he requested calmly, "Just hold still..." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, retrieved his pole from his back, and began to mutter unintelligibly under his breath. As he focused upon the pole and channeled his energy through it, it glowed a deep green with an otherworldly warmth. Finishing the spell, that warm glow was then transferred into the body of the girl. It was eerily soothing. Slowly, bruises began to fade, and wounds began to mend themselves, as if naturally, but quickened. It was then that Fejar realized that, the entire time, something had been attacking his nostrils. Good Gods, she reeked! He took a few steps back involuntarily. Hesitantly, he prompted the girl, "How do you feel...?"

The following morning, the sun shone bright in the clear blue sky as the hooded figure of Fejar wandered about the city, a long pole strapped to his back. He stopped occasionally to ask for directions from random passersby, but he had no real destination: he merely wished to learn the layout of this new city he was to reside in for the time being. He continued his wanderings until he happened to stumble upon an unexpected sight: a miqo'te woman, body battered and beaten, lying in an alleyway in a pool of what was likely her own blood. "Perhaps I would do well not to linger here," the young miqo'te man thought to himself. He stared down the alleyway, pondering. Could she be dead? She may be in dire need of medical attention; he could even provide such attention, but there was too much he didn't know. He knew this place was a haven for pirates, and helping this woman may later put himself in her position. Besides, she looked tough; far heartier than he. Still, he could not ignore it. Resolving to inform a guard, Fejar hurried off in search of one. Finding an authoritative-looking man with little trouble, he stammered, "S-ser! In an alleyway a few yalms yonder, a woman lies beaten near to death..." The guard he had found looked reliable. There was, in fact, nothing about the look of him to suggest otherwise; he was very well-kept, his face was assuring, and his shining armor glinted gracefully in the morning sun. Fejar was certain that he had made the right decision. "Right. Lead the way, then," the man replied certainly; so certainly that Fejar could not help but wonder just how often this sort of thing occurred... Having led the man back to the scene, Fejar stood watch at the end of the alleyway, satisfied, but still curious. The guard calmly approached the woman where she lay, and kneeling over her, examined her, rather less certainly asking, "Lass, can you hear me? Open your eyes," prompting Fejar to call after, "Will she be alright?"