Roen

There was tension in the air. It penetrated through the biting chill of the northern wind, lending a certain heaviness to the very air itself. The harsh lines that etched the expressions of each Ishgardian knight seemed deeper, their grimaces more somber. There were whispers of rising hostilities, as reformers and traditionalists clashed in their views of what Ishgard should be, and how to prepare for the conflict that seemed imminent on the horizon. Perhaps this was why the Durendaire knights seemed to pay little--if any--attention to the paladin that strode past them without meeting their eyes, her stride crisp but not too hurried. She was trying to avoid any unnecessary attention, after all. But as Roen walked about Falcon’s Nest, her eyes scanning both for the Miqo’te captain and Khadai, she could not help but overhear passing words here and there upon the lips of traders and artisans. Was there a true confrontation with the Dravanian Horde headed for Ishgard? It was the same threat that had always hung over all of Coerthas for as long as she could remember, but since she had returned from the Shroud, the unease amongst the residents seemed almost palpable. She had dismissed it to the ongoing political strife that had been on the rise since the shift in power within the Theocracy itself, and had done her best to keep herself out of taking sides. She was only here to do what she can, taking a single step whenever possible. Perhaps assisting the stranded Maelstrom Captain and her crew was but one of them. As she made her way toward the gates, Roen spotted Khadai on the road. By his slowed pace, she could tell he was exercising caution. His stride was usually long and agile, but today he walked up past the guards like a weary traveler. The paladin sighed inwardly when they only gave him a passing glance. A second figure drew both the paladin and the Au Ra’s attention as a familiar Miqo’te approached both of them. Captain Mirke was as Roen remembered, petite but with a hint of wiry fortitude to her frame, and her stride sharp with purpose. The Miqo’te exchanged glances with both the paladin and the Au Ra warrior, her eyes narrowing only slightly at the latter. Remembering their less than affable encounter the first time, Roen drew her lips into a polite expression. "I hope I had not pulled you away from other important affairs,” Roen said matter of factly, greeting Khadai with a nod. She then turned to the Captain. "I had asked him to join us since another set of swords in the Highlands is never a bad idea." Khadai seemed indifferent. "I am undergoing preparation for an expedition into Dravania. I am willing to hear out your request of assistance in the event that the location of our goals coincide." His speech was still somewhat stiff, but it lacked the element of hesitation that it once held. "How fortunate then,” Mirke answered nonchalantly. “Yers and mine own paths lie in similar directions. West, far west." Roen could see Khadai’s eyes squint ever so slightly upon being reacquainted with the Miqo'te's Noscean accent. The paladin moistened her lips in relief that he made no note of it this time. "I have prepared a mount and thirty days' worth of provisions for one individual.” The Au Ra took inventory of his supplies. “Spread across three persons it can be stretched to roughly ten days. The bird can be used as a draught animal." Roen could not help but arch both her brows in pleasant surprise. “You actually kept your mount!" she marveled out loud. Last time they spoke, his frustration with his new bird was clear. "It was necessary.” His tone remained stern. “This expedition was intended to be long-term. The bird can be used for sustenance in an emergency as well." Khadai tilted his head slightly at her. "And you did note that I was not utilizing my gathered currency very often." Both the paladin and the Maelstrom Captain made a face at Khadai. "I'd hope it not come to that,” Mirke said dryly. “I've meh own foodstuffs as well. Provisions fer near a fortnight if I pace mehself.” Roen quickly dismissed the frown from her face. Khadai never failed to remind her of his practicality at every turn. "You do seem prepared," she murmured. "I also did not realize you were leaving for Dravania so soon." She heard her tone dip slightly and wrinkled her nose again. "Well, at least all our paths coincide.” Mirke glanced between them both, and tucked her hands into her pockets. “I paid fer a bird, but I left it with the knights back a ways, on the off chance one of yeh lot couldn't ride?" Her gaze swiveled to the Au Ra pointedly. Khadai shrugged. "Khadai do not utilize mounts, but I am certain it is not something beyond my learning. If it came to it, I would simply use it as a draught animal." When the Captain looked to Roen for a decision, the paladin shook her head. “Best not learn how to ride while we are trying to search for your comrades. We can use the mounts we have to haul our supplies. If we travel mounted, the birds would need food and shelter sooner." She looked up at the clouds. "The sky is light enough, perhaps the heavy snow will hold off for a bit." The Miqo’te nodded in agreement. "Settles that then. We go on foot." "What do you pursue this endeavour for?" Khadai inquired, his deep green eyes intently regarding the Captain. The Miqo'te cocked her head, a slight puzzled look twisting her features. It was as if she was trying to figure something out about the Au Ra. "I take it Roen didn't 'ave a chance to explain. When yeh found meh in Coerthas some time ago, I were headin' from meh crew's shipwreck in Dravania to civilization to get contact with Limsa. Now I've done that, a rescue party is on their way. I need to be back wit' meh crew when they get there. And round up any stragglin' scouts too if it comes to that." Khadai stared at her briefly before nodding. "As you say. The location of our objectives coincide, then. This arrangement can be upheld." He turned his attention to Roen. "This is something you wish to participate in?" Roen flicked a glance at him. That was an odd thing for him to ask. With all the discussions and arguments that the two have held in the past, she found herself peering up at him, as if trying to glean some second meaning behind his question. "I had made an offer of aid when we met her the first time, and I intend to uphold it. And…” She lowered her voice. “It was a good reason as any to get out of the city for awhile." The paladin did not want to say more, lest she seed any suspicions of legal troubles in the mind of a Malestrom officer. "As you say." Khadai nodded once. "We have reached an accord, then." The Miqo’te captain snorted. “Shite, if I'd known yeh were tryin' to get out o' that bleedin' city, I'd 'ave asked yeh sooner." She made a lazy wave of her hand before turning back to the Au Ra. "Seems we 'ave. I promised compensation fer Roen's contributions to the Maelstrom. Yeh can be rewarded as well if it suits yeh." “I will require some short time. I left my provisions in a location outside of the city, and I will have to retrieve the bird from the stables." Khadai replied to the captain in turn, and Roen was relieved to see that their exchanges were somewhat more cordial than it was the first time. As both the Au Ra and the Miqo’te made their way to the stables, Roen squinted up at the skies. The grey clouds were still, and there were even patches where the sunlight was almost breaking through. Perhaps this journey would be uneventful after all. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She did not want to admit it, but she was glad that Khadai had agreed to come after all. She glanced back to the two before they were out of ear reach. “Best get started while the winds are quiet."

Roen shoved the letter into her belt pouch, blowing on her fingers to warm them before sliding them back into the protective shelter of her woolen gloves. The ever-present Coerthan chill seemed especially intent on seeping through her armor this night, and the flickering brazier flames that danced violently in the wind seemed unwilling to lend their warmth even as she sat close enough to to read the letter. She dared not linger at the Forgotten Knight, not when so many authority figures frequented the inn. And the fact that it served as a gathering place to many adventurers on cold nights like this, it would also be likely that those looking for her would search the tavern. The dark alleyways of The Brume, on the other hand... those the champions of the Holy See seemed less inclined to roam. It reminded the paladin of the last city that she had fled, Ul’dah, where one had to take care to walk through the backstreets of Pearl Lane for the fear of being robbed or becoming the target of extortion by the Brass Blades. She had left the Jewel and all the troubles there behind, to find a new start here in Ishgard. And yet here she was, again hiding her face and ducking away from the eyes of the law. Only this time she knew she had done nothing wrong. Neither had Khadai. But the fact that there were armed men searching for them both had returned her to that familiar feeling of unease. Like many outsiders, she had learned quickly that in any inquiry that even hinted at some Dravanian threat, the Inquisition’s unforgiving justice was soon to follow. Steering clear of any disfavor from the Church was an easy lesson learned by any new outsiders arriving in Ishgard. But what exactly was the trouble? The part of her that still demanded fairness and justice -- this the paladin reluctantly acknowledged with some irony -- wanted to know what spurred on this investigation. “They were looking for those associated with the events at that garrison, Dragonhead,” Khadai had told her. What little he had been able to learn while eluding his pursuers at least gave her some direction in which to start her probing. She wanted to send a missive to Ser Tournes, her former commanding officer and knight-captain, to ask him if he knew anything of this. But Khadai was quick to remind her that the Elezen knight, like every other devoted Ishgardian soldier, would be beholden to whatever authority was seeking them out. Roen shifted in her seat, the old wooden crate beneath her creaking with the weight of her armor. Perhaps she could ask her current patron, Lord Theron, for assistance. Not only was he a personal friend of Ser Tournes, but he had also entrusted the education of his adapted Elezen son to her care. And he was part of the Ishgardian nobility besides. Would he sympathize for or against mine and Khadai’s predicament? Roen let out a long frustrated exhale as she extended her hands toward the flames, casually glancing to those also gathered near the fire. Most of them did not meet her eyes; many who sought the warmth of these outdoor fires had nowhere else to go. Roen imagined that their minds were already preoccupied with not freezing to death through the night. Still, a few men tossed a look or two her way, and perhaps it was the fire’s light etching harsh lines upon their face, or their shadows that wavered chaotically behind them that seemed to turn their gaze into glares. She lowered her head and pulled the hood a bit lower over her eyes. Perhaps I too should have decided to stay out in the country as Khadai had chosen to do. Roen frowned at the memory of it, though a part of her did not know what vexed her more: that she chose to remain in Ishgard in a futile attempt to discern the truth of the matter regarding this Dragonhead investigation, or the lingering thought that Khadai was planning to head out deeper into Dravania to continue on the mission that had brought him to Eorzea in the first place. She had gotten nowhere on the former, meeting either uncooperative silence or dead ends, and on the latter… Dravania was a dangerous place, one that the Au Ra might get hopelessly lost in, yet again. The latter was not what was causing her disquiet, Roen told herself with a snort. The paladin rose to her feet, the quickness of her movement betraying her annoyance. She ignored a few more glances thrown her way. Perhaps it was best that this summons came now rather than later. Despite the fact that Roen had only known her for a better part of a sun, this Captain Mirke seemed an honest sort, very matter-of-fact in her answers with an unpretentious personality. She also seemed to not mind answering many of the paladin’s questions regarding the rest of Eorzea; the Miqo’te seemed quite knowledgeable when it came to the political tension between the Limsa Lominsa and Ul’dah. Considering her own knowledge on the matter, Roen could not help but press the subject a bit to glean more recent news from the Miqo’te. The fact that Captain Mirke was also an Ala Mhigan with strong opinions regarding the fate of those who shared her ancestry… the paladin did find herself drawn into the conversation with this Maelstrom Captain. Roen shook off what snow had gathered from her hood, before she marched up the stairs leading back up to the Forgotten Knight. She was thankful that the innkeeper was either sympathetic to his patrons who sought privacy, or too busy to get involved in the first place. He accepted her letter addressed to Capt. Mirke without even a second look her way and tucked it under the counter. Careful not to be seen, the paladin then made her way toward the Pillars. It was against her better judgement, but she had to at least give her wards some notice of her prolonged absence yet again. Lord Theron had been a more than generous in allowing her some freedom to attend to personal affairs and even taking some freelance jobs now and then. Perhaps the nobleman also suspected that his Elezen son was taking to the lessons in arms quite slowly and reluctantly. That was to say, not at all. As the cobbled streets began to ascend toward the more polished and majestic part of the city, Roen withdraw a pearl from her pouch and inserted it into her ear. “Khadai,” she called out quietly. “Captain Mirke has hired me to guide her back out through the Western Highlands in search of her crew. I have asked her to meet me at Falcon's Nest in a few suns. I was wondering... if you would accompany me?”

I have been feeling guilty about overthinking everything RP wise and because I am overthinking it, I don't actually do much. I have two prompts/forum RP-ish thing sitting around waiting for my response and I have yet to type a word because I am just thinking about what my response should be, what the post should entail, where it should lead... I used to be able to just respond to it like reacting in live RP. I need to just relax, not overthink everything, and just answer the friggin' thing. I've also contacted a few people going "Hey it would be cool to meet!" only to then realize I don't have any solid idea beyond just "meeting" so I don't follow through until I think of something more elaborate. Also, last time I queued for a dungeon, the tank ran immediately ahead, while I was buffing. He didn't get SS nor Protect because he ran out of range. I then refused to put protect on him nor do anything other than regen him until we got to the first boss. If he ran away from my buff, I wasn't going to chase him down to give it to him, nor was I going to do anything more than minimum to keep him alive. I didn't bother to stance dance and DPS the trash either. ...Until Kas poked me about it (he was DPS in the group) and the tank pulled adds off me (I got aggro from regen ) then I started to contribute again in earnest. My guilt did not last long though.

[[Events here follow this post.]] Delial stood by the railing overlooking the water, wisps of black hair wafted by the gentle afternoon breeze that rustled the leaves above. The pounding of the waterfall moistened the air around the Bobbing Cork, the cooling caress of the wind providing a soothing company for those who lingered on the side deck. It had been almost a sennight since the meeting at the Sanctum of Twelve, where Roen had confronted her brother along side Delial and Kiht. The meeting ended on a note of animosity, somewhat reminiscent of a another encounter two years ago where the circumstances were eerily similar. Except Roen and Delial had opposed each other then, where the paladin held the Highlander responsible for the condition she found her brother in. Now it was the opposite. Last they spoke, Delial had blamed Roen. She had not spoken to Delial since, and it was with some measure of anxiety that the Highlander’s summons to Fallguard was received. The wooden boards of the deck creaked with the weight of the paladin’s armor, to which Delial turned her head slightly with a nod. Both did their best to keep their expressions neutral. “Did I tell you?” Delial said as Roen came to stand beside her. She had a wine glass that was, oddly for her, daintily perched on her upheld hand. A wine bottle was precariously balanced on the railing. “I do not recall. Things grow… blurry of late. She came to me. Banurein.” Roen arched an eyebrow, although she was not altogether surprised. Kiht had told her much the same after all. “She has not quite lost interest then, as I had thought from all those months of absence.” “Never.” Delial took a generous swallow of wine. “It did not end as she wished it, of course. A loose thread that yet remains." Her gaze shifted to the paladin, then she glanced away just as quickly. "He wishes her demise. As do I, of course. Too dangerous to be left alone. There was something she did say, however, that has given me pause in all this. That Gharen's... affliction is not an affliction at all, no, and ought not be treated as such. That such a thing might not be excised as one might a leech." Roen studied the woman from the corner of her eyes. "You are telling me this because of what I said to him. At the Sanctum." Delial did not answer right away. The Highlander emptied her glass, then busied herself with pouring herself another. Apparently as an afterthought, she held the bottle out to the paladin. "Such shocking things were said. So very strange to have heard them coming from you. You understand that I cannot allow any of the, ah... mentioned things to happen, of course?" A long exhale escaped through her nostrils as Roen shook her head. She too recalled those words, where she threatened to end the man she was speaking to. "Do you think I would actually run my own brother through with a blade?" She dipped her head and crossed her arms. "It was mostly bravado on my part." “I thought it best to remain cautious.” Delial shrugged and set the bottle back on its perch on the railing. “None of us, I think, are who we were... and it becomes harder to read what may or may not come. I imagine most of what he said was likewise, bravado. Certainly fond of barking." "He thought I was weak.” Roen frowned as her indignation leaked into her voice. “I am willing to do what needs to be done. But killing someone... even to save them from themselves… could I do it again?” She paused, her gaze absently watching the light ripple off the waters. She slowly shook her head. “The wound still bleeds." "That rage of his, it is strong. It always has been, I am certain, but he has conquered it before. Conquered it again and again. It ought not be any different now. Only a matter of time." Again she looked Roen's way, though it lingered this time. "I am not sure what will come of this.” The paladin sighed, her shoulders sagging. “Or what will happen. But you need not worry about me trying to kill whatever that stands in my brother's body. Despite my words." Delial took another sip, then leaned against the railing to rest her elbows upon it. She looked down at the glass held between her hands, like it were an offering to the water below. It was after sometime that she spoke again. "I am inclined to believe one does not get over it. Such wounds. Else they would be more easily forgotten." "You bore such a wound as well,” Roen murmured. "When does it stop bleeding?" The Highlander let out a soft snort. "In my experience? Never. Though mayhap you find one day that the taste of copper does not turn your stomach, and it matters no more. That, I pray, is a line you need not cross in your lifetime." Roen fell quiet as she pondered that for a moment. "You crossed that line some time ago. And yet here you stand, willing to defend a man turned murderer, from his sister's own blade." She canted her head in Delial’s direction. "Is it that you take sympathy in the broken? The warped? Or that you are not as warped as I think you to be?" Delial lowered her head as she forced out a low chuckle. "I will give you a confession. But I imagine you will only think me mad for it." The distant roar of the waterfall filled the space between them for a time, before the Highlander broke the silence. “The... war did do much good for my family. No, quite the opposite. It shattered it, as it did our nation. He was not the first man I -- that I lost," Delial drew out the word, stressing it, though she glanced elsewhere. "But my... my father, he..." Delial paused, and Roen did not dare interrupt. The Highlander was frowning, her gaze fixed intently on the waterfall. "The war did not seem real until he was gone. I did not know what I had done until then, I think. And to think it happening to your brother... It is mad, of course. They share a name. How infuriating it is. How maddening!" Her words had gained a frantic energy to them. "What did you do...?" "The Resistance... even then, cared not for peace. So I did what was... right. Garren Blackstone, and Westor as well, were dangerous. Fighting against the King only made them more so." The woman’s fingers seemed to tighten around her glass, her tone sobering. Her gaze did not rise to the paladin. "There is a certain heartbreak that comes when you destroy something beloved to you. I know your pirate did not leave the continent, despite what the Sergeant suggested. But when it is your blood, it does not leave you. It is a dark and heavy thing, and it poisons you until the day you die." Roen stared long and hard at the Highlander. "And yet, to this sun, you believe you did the right thing." Delial stared down at her hands. Moving slowly, she swallowed what wine remains in the glass, and then dropped the glass into the water. "My... conviction comes and goes. Some suns it is easier." "Hindsight is a strange thing,” the paladin whispered. “It wears at your certainty." Another long pause fell between them, before she glanced at the woman again. "How do you deal with regret?" Delial snickered, taking up the bottle and giving it a waggle. It sloshed noisily, before it too was dropped in the water. "Poorly, I should say. I think a normal, sensible person would have at least had the sense to find some.... some hobby to pour themselves into.” The Highlander watched the bottle bob and sway in the water for a moment before she admitted quietly, “All I have is Gharen. You. Kage, I suppose, that poor, poor man!" Roen blinked, and it was with some effort that she let out a quiet, nonchalant snort. "I think Kage believes himself fortunate enough to know you and call you friend. Strange that," she murmured under her breath. "Considering how both of you began. I suppose, same could be said about the rest of us as well. Odd. Is it not?" "Very strange. So very strange. I had always thought it an exaggeration that the... the world would cease to make sense as you grow older. And yet... here we are. Befuddled as ever." Roen watched the bottle's journey as it spun in the water, before it tilted to the side and the water bubbled in. "I do not think you poisoned. Not completely." "It is a kind thing to say, untrue as it may be.” Delial snorted weakly. “You are all the more lovely when you are being kind. Sometimes I find I miss it." The paladin did not speak for a long time, her eyes now fixed on where the bottle had submerged under the water. Her voice was a raspy thing when she spoke again. "I thought kindness was my weakness. Only now… I find that my biggest regret... was my lack of mercy." Roen Deneith grimaced, chiding herself for allowing her voice to waver. "I do not think I will ever be who I was before. But... even those who have done far worse than I could ever imagine, can still care. They come to the defense of a murderer.” "Such strange, bewildering times. Small blessings, mayhap, that we may still be surprised,” Delial said as she continued to look out over the water. The two women allowed the waterfall to fill the silence again, a blue bird coming to perch on the wooden railing near them before taking to the air again. "I dreaded seeing him again," Roen murmured as her gaze absently followed the bird’s flight. "For too many reasons that I cannot say." When Delial remained quiet, Roen inhaled deeply and continued. "But knowing you and Kiht were there... ready to aid him in whatever way that was needed… it made it easier, in truth." The paladin finally spared another glance towards the Highlander. "That even if I failed, he would not be lost. Not truly." “It was... a good thing. Certainly a brave thing. For all the unkind things I said to you before, I know it must have been difficult." Delial lowered her head but turned slightly, her amber gaze peering up at Roen. She curled a small smirk. "I should think Kiht would have tried to strangle the poor dear for you had anything happened. She is so very worried for you. I think she would do nearly anything if it may make things easier for you." The thought of the Keeper, even if it was fleeting, softened the paladin’s visage. "I owe her much.” “It is a fortunate thing to hold one so close. Even if she is, as he says, just... a touch dense. Very kind, however." Delial nodded. “And I owe you as well,” Roen gave Delial a side eye. “Once this ordeal is over, perhaps some time of rest is needed. For everyone." She let out a long sigh. "But let us get through this first. However it plays out." The Highlander snorted. "Kage has already insisted that he and I have ourselves a trip to Costa del Sol when all is done. I think I shall take him up on it." Roen just raised an eyebrow. "You should take him up on it,” she said blankly. Somehow she could not imagine the two of them sunbathing together in the sand. She found it oddly amusing. "Perhaps you and the others might come as well? You could use a little sun, I think. Gharen, too, once he overcomes this… a little fun may do him some good. Though I imagine he would head straight for that waterfall he was so fond of." Roen regarded Delial, and to her surprise, a protest did not readily leave her lips. Her eyes wandered, giving it some thought. "I think I have forgotten what warm sun truly feels like." Delial pushed herself back up straight, with considerable effort. "A travesty. If the Gods are kind and merciful, you may never again feel ice in your bones. Nor will I ever, ever, see another of these damned trees again!" Roen almost thought the Highlander would raises her fist to the woods. The paladin snorted, a hint of an ironic grin touching her lips. "I call it an act of attrition." She was answered with an ornery harrumph from the Highlander. "As you say. We need to have a talk, Kiht and I... and Gharen and I, too, supposing I did not anger him out of any thoughts of cooperation. Temporary, to be sure - he always was too charitable for his own good." “Keep me informed.” The paladin nodded, stepping back from the railing. “I believe I have lingered here too long.” "Thank you for meeting with me. And, err..." The dark woman’s lips twisted as she seemed to search for a word, an effort that that only left her with a deeper frown. "That is, allowing me to... ramble." Roen canted her head, and the edges of her eyes softened. "It is a side of you that you do not allow often, if at all. It brought me some measure of comfort, whether you meant to or not. You should allow yourself to do so more often." When Delial narrowed her eyes but maintained her silence, Roen nodded with a teasing curl to her lips. “I will bid you farewell on this rare note between us. Stay well, Delial.”

I have no idea how many slots you have for commissions... But put me on the list please!

Oh how sweet of you to do this! 1) Blue bird 2) Tabard 3) Owlet 4) Calca 5) Morpho 6) Red Panda 7) Orchestrion 8) Fat Cat

It was one of those rare nights when the moon seemed to eclipse every star in the sky, its white visage so full that it felt closer in its proximity to the earth. But its luminous gaze remained cold and distant still, as a single snowflake drifted and spun in the night unnoticed. It rolled along with of the waves of the cold Coerthan wind, dancing merrily despite the deathly howls that echoed through the darkness. It twirled one last time before it came to its gentle landing upon the ground, where it sank and dissolved into the blood soaked terrain. The moonlight lent the sword that swung through the air a silvery gleam, just as it opened a gashing wound on the neck of a wolf, sending its twitching body to join its lifeless brethren on the frozen landscape. More snow wolves paced in a circle about the periphery of the clearing, all of their fangs bared. But they were now hesitant in charging forward, wary of the single figure that stood in the middle, surrounded by a pile of crimson-stained corpses. Roen flexed her fingers around the hilt of her sword, its bloodied tip hovering just above the snow. She exhaled slowly, grey eyes scanning the ring of beasts for the next one to come within her blade’s reach. The exertion had already quickened her pulse, warmth of anticipation coursing through her veins. Hungry beasts had been descending from the high mountains in droves to hunt livestock, some even attacking the villagers and their children. The local inhabitants called for help, offering a bounty for anyone to fend them off. Roen had grown weary of her stay at picturesque Fallguard, and venturing north back across the borders into Coerthas, she had finally found something to do. The wolves paced still, circling and winding past each other. They are pack animals. They will likely coordinate their attacks, the paladin reminded herself. Where such thoughts might have brought tension to her frame years past, she now found herself calm and focused. Such endeavors, hunting beasts while fighting in freezing temperatures, it was all that she had known for past year now since fleeing to this frigid place. It had been an arduous way of life to complete the duties that she was assigned while trying to fend off frostbite; but she had welcomed such an occupation of the mind as well as the exhaustion to the body. But now… such tasks were means of a release. As another wolf leaped through the air intent for her head, Roen slashed across its neck, the sharpened edge of her blade digging into its flesh below its opened maw. But when the tip of the sword dug into the vertebrae, there it stuck. She rolled to her side as the blade pulled her to the ground with its added weight, the paladin tucking and rolling with it as she dodged another leaping for her back. She skidded to her feet, and planted her armored boot on the carcass to dislodge the sword in time to bat another away her shield. "You feel a need to be capable of doing everything. Capable of assisting everyone. This feeling of need causes you distress." A yelp ended the breath of another beast as her blade sliced through its jugular. But it was the low rumbling voice of an Au Ra that echoed through her thoughts, and with it she suddenly felt the absence of a familiar presence. It felt strange that she was not fighting alongside Khadai for once. "You believe my failing was that I spread myself too thin. Tried to achieve things that I was never capable of.” Another beast came at her thigh, and its jaw cracked as it impacted the metal tip of her boot. "Or that you did not rely enough on those who were capable." More creatures fell, and soon the ice beneath her feet began to crawl with dark red veins across its surface. Her breaths were now coming in quick succession, her chest rising and falling hard beneath her armor. The pack was withdrawing back into the shadows of the mountain, fear overtaking their fury. A deep growl broke through the chilly air behind her, accompanied by the unmistakable stench that could only mark a feral croc’s proximity. Roen turned in time to see the croc’s charge, and when it was just within reach, it swung its massive mandible at her entire frame. She was able to raise her shield to place it between her and the creature, but the impact sent her sliding backwards on the ice. Her shield tip and boots skidded loudly over the frozen ground as she came to a crouching stop. The paladin grimaced as she saw the croc running after her again, this time with its large mouth open three ways and ready to swallow her whole. She could see the hungry gleam in its black eyes beneath the split upper jaw. It must have come looking for a free meal after the commotion. The paladin rolled out of the way as it scooped up the fulms of snow where she had been standing. My job is done, she told herself. I should just go. But when she regained her bearings, she looked not to the Haldrath’s March, but back at the scalekin. She flexed her fingers around the hilt of her sword again. "You said you ran a sword through him to come to be. I will do the same if that is what it takes." Another conversation whispered in her ear as the paladin scrambled up a rocky boulder nearby. They were the words that were exchanged between her and the man who wore her brother’s face. "Then Prove yourself, Little Wolf." Beneath the stone etched symbols of the Sactum of the Twelve the armored man had stood, his eyes bearing a darkness she did not recognize, his familiar visage twisted with contempt that did not belong there. It made her angry then---and it still riled her now. "You will see I am no longer little." The croc whirled about, the three mandibles of his maw wide open as the scalekin’s eyes searched for its prey. When it turned its head upwards, Roen leaped off from the apex of the boulder, her sword raised high above her head. Roen wrinkled her nose as she lifted the matted rows of thick fur with the edge of her sword. Her lips curled with distaste as more flecks of dirt and ice fell to the ground loosened from its leathery coat and another pungent waft of odor greeted her senses. She gave a wide berth to what looked like some partially digested remains of some animal that had also dribbled out of its muzzle, her stride lengthening as she walked around the lifeless corpse. The paladin glanced over her shoulder to the rest of the remains that littered the hillside; her limbs were starting to grow heavier with fatigue. Her breaths came slower now, her earlier agitation having been burned off. It was amidst a snowy bank like this where they had come upon another dead corpse many moons ago. She could still recall the expression of death on the Au Ra female’s face, the body speared through the chest and displayed out for all to see. “Some agents of the Church stopped by Khadai’s inn room, looking for him.” Roen frowned as she recalled the conversation she had with Edda only a few suns past beneath the Fallguard’s canopy. “He was able to make an escape, though they are tenacious if nothing else. I am sure they will return.” The noblewoman had come to the North Shroud to tell the paladin that she had ended her contract with Khadai but to also bestow a warning. While Edda no longer held the Au Ra to any obligation, it was clear to Roen that she still worried for the warrior. "Whatever unwarranted sense of justice that clouds their senses is beyond me. All I know is that they came looking for him." Her practiced smile never left the woman’s lips, but Roen could sense that the affair weighed on Edda’s mind. "Will you not return to Ishgard soon? Though there is nothing I can do for him, you may yet be able to." Roen’s fingers lightly brushed her belt pouch as if to remind herself of a certain pearl there--one that she, Edda, and Khadai shared. The Xaela had not spoken over the linkshell about any troubles, although the paladin doubted that he would do so unless there was true mortal danger. Would he ask for help even then? A sharp exhale plumed into a puff of steam as Roen reached for the piece of cloth in her belt pouch. She shook her head as she ran the fold of the cloth over the length of her blade, as if to silently chide the absent warrior’s stubbornness. But would I do any different? The paladin heard her own wry voice tsking at her. A sigh sagged her shoulders and she paused. Would I? Still? "I know not what goes through that Hyur head of yours sometimes, and I have come to accept that your life has made you wary of some things. But I think you should know I consider you a sister. You can keep me at any length, and I doubt what I feel will ever be different." A quiet snort escaped her lips as Kiht’s voice rose to memory. It was an honest and unsolicited confession, one that had surprised her and it made Kiht a little sheepish after the fact. Roen pursed her lips in thought, to push away any other expression that might have risen. This was not a good time to get sentimental after all. But the thought of seeing her again, as well as many others that she had come to find since coming to the Shroud, did not fill her with dread as it used to. It was at the Keeper’s and Delial’s behest that Roen had come to Gridania, to try and help her brother who had lost his way. It was a task that Roen had long feared and resisted, but she finally came to admit that she could not hide in Coerthas forever from everyone and everything she knew. But what of Khadai? Roen sighed again as she sheathed her sword, staring at the bright moon above. He is capable. I have to trust in that. Was that not his own advice? Certainly he would not fault her for abiding by his counsel. But she could not deny that she felt a certain stir of disquiet in the back of her mind, one that would not be put to rest until she at least knew why the Church was seeking him out. But first things first. Roen turned toward Haldrath’s March, taking the southern path towards the Observatorium and eventually back to the North Shroud. I need to see that Gharen is set to rights.

Over twenty years ago. “That is disgusting, Rissa! Get that thing away from me!” Josette shrieked as she bolted behind a tree, her already pale face now turned ghostly white with fear. Her fingers gripped so tightly to the bark that her fingernails were turning white, as if the maple tree would stand as her valiant protector against the dreadful thing in the center of her family’s garden. When the young noble child heard nothing but the distant chirping of birds, she peeked back around at her friend. Rissalyn remained still where she stood, her violet eyes made bigger behind the thick glasses she wore as she stared at the caterpillar that was wrapped around her index finger. The bug was colored in bright stripes of green, gold, and black; it was thick enough to completely engulf at least three of her fingers at once, but the girl holding it did not care. She seemed fascinated by the freakish thing. After a moment of making certain that her friend was not being devoured by the disgusting monstrosity, Josette released her hold on the hapless tree. She collected herself and arranged her black curly locks behind her shoulders and straightened her dress. After all, she was two years senior of her friend, and if Rissa was not going to be frightened by some measly caterpillar, then neither was she. She took delicate steps around the tree, her back straight and her expression poised. “I think it’s trying to nibble at my fingertip!” Rissa giggled as she jutted her finger just ilms away from her friend’s nose. All Josette saw was its gigantic black eyes and equally massive pincers for a mouth that somehow grew threefold in size. She could swear that it was standing on its hindlegs to try and leap onto her face. “Eeeeeeeek!” The older child screeched, flailing her hands frantically as she made her hasty retreat. It was only when her backtracking brought her back squarely against to the tree that Josette saw her friend kneeling on the ground, gingerly scooping up the caterpillar that had been knocked off its perch in her panicked thrashing. “It won’t hurt you, Josette.” Rissalyn murmured as she cradled the bug in her cupped hands. Josette marveled at how the girl seemed to treat such a hideous thing with so much care. But when the older child saw the look of worry in her friend’s face, she too approached, now suddenly concerned that she might have hurt the critter. Not that Josette ever cared for bugs, but it was clear that Rissa did, and Josette cared for Rissa. “Did I hurt it?” Josette asked as she peered at the contents of her friend’s hand. She clasped her own hands behind her back and rocked back and forth, her lower lip protruding out guiltily. “I did not mean to hit it out of your hand…” Rissalyn shook her head but did not take her eyes off the strangely colored thing, whispering something under her breath. Josette did not quite know what her friend said, but she held her own breath as her lavender eyes squinted, peering at the creature. She too was somehow willing it to be unhurt. When the caterpillar squirmed again, both the girls squeaked with joy, bouncing on the balls of their feet. “Did you want to hold it?” Rissa held out her cupped hands to the older child. “Aah! No! I don’t want to hurt it again.” Josette laughed nervously. “Besides, just because I no longer believe it will eat both of us doesn’t mean I am going to take it home.” Rissa gave her a small smile and that knowing look of hers, before turning to a lush plant nearby. She set it atop one of its largest thickest leaves with care. “The larva spends all of its time eating. It needs a lot of sustenance to undergo the transformation in the suns to come.” Josette leaned in close to her friend, both the girl’s violet-hued eyes studying the wriggling thing. “When will it turn into a beautiful butterfly?” she whispered as if to speak louder would disturb the process. “A fortnight, usually.” Rissa pushed her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. “But I find this stage the most fascinating. It grows and grows, and splits its own skin and sheds it several times over.” The older child made a face as she stood, staring at the girl next to her. They were best friends, and some would even mistake the two for sisters for all the similar features they shared… but sometimes Josette was truly reminded of how different a temperament each of them had. While she herself enjoyed the finer prettier things, Rissa always seemed to be fascinated by the not-so-pretty things, things that crawled and slithered. But when Josette took the time to listen and watch her, she always discovered that she too could find something special about them, through her friend’s eyes. Josette smiled to herself, silently relieved that even though Rissa’s mother had left without word or warning, she had not lost her best friend in the world. She did notice that Rissa’s laughter had grown quieter and she fell into sullen moods more often, but when they played together it was as if nothing had changed. “So… will I be seeing your brother at the Cathedral?” Josette changed the subject, and inwardly frowned at how her voice always rose an octave when Lewan was the topic of the discussion. Rissalyn was still bent low, her eyes at level with the caterpillar. But even though Josette would not see her face, the new bleakness to the young girl’s voice was obvious. “I don’t think so. Since Lewan was sent to squire for Ser Ruisair, I don’t see him often.” “Oh,” Josette sighed, her shoulders sagging with disappointment. “So it’s just you and your father at home?” Rissalyn nodded without turning around. “Father has been especially busy with the work of the Church.” There was a small pause, and when she continued her tone had turned monotonous, as if to recite someone else’s words. “The work of The Inquisition to stem the tide of heretics never ends.” “I am certain your father is doing all he can to protect us.” The older girl bounded forward toward her friend again, leaning in to draw Rissa’s gaze. “As is your brother!” A soft sigh escaped Rissa’s lips. “Father hopes that if Ser Ruisair is sent to fight against a dragon and Lewan is instrumental in helping him, that he may someday be considered to join the order of the Temple Knights.” Josette shuddered. “A dragon. How frightful.” To that, Rissalyn straightened as she turned to the older girl. “I have never seen one. I would like to. I wonder if it is as beautiful as a butterfly?” “Don’t you say such things, Rissa!” Josette leaned in quickly, her eyes suddenly scanning the garden around them. She knew her younger friend may not have yet learned to fear the Inquisition, but as the elder of the two, Josette knew better. Even the daughter of an Inquisitor would need to exercise caution, and this knowledge she would bestow onto her friend. She gripped Rissa’s shoulders, meeting her straight in the eyes. “A man must gaze not upon the eyes of the dragon. A man must hearken not the words of a dragon. A man must lay his hands not upon the flesh or blood of a dragon.” Her tones were hushed but sober. The words flowed easily from rote memory. “The archbishop, his Holiness, declares thus, and thus is it law. Do you understand? No such foolish talk of seeing a dragon, or admiring anything of dragonkin.” Rissa’s deep violet gaze regarded her a moment longer, almost quizzically, before she nodded. It was only then that Josette exhaled. “Good then.” The elder girl released the younger’s shoulders and patted down her own skirt. “Now what shall we do?” Rissa’s eyes widened and she smiled brightly. “Oh! I saved the last three skins of the caterpillar after it split and shed! Do you want to see them?!” Josette’s face slowly twisted into one of disgust. “Ew! Rissa!!” Now. Isene Daumois watched patiently as the Midlander woman took account of the boxes and crates that had been laid carefully in the main room. With but a wave of a finger from the Elezen, the men who brought in the special cargo shuffled out, their eyes never quite meeting the two females within. The Hyur said nothing as she ran her white gloved fingers over the reinforced edges of the thick steel box, her thumb coming to rest against the lock in front of it. Her violet gaze behind the glasses narrowed slightly, and she made no movement to open the box for a moment. “They belonged to the dragon named Kavir, Miss Reeves.” Isene cleared her throat. “The delivery of the requested parts were swift and seen with utmost care.” Josette Reeves turned to face the Wildwood and gave her a succinct nod. “Send my gratitude to the Marquis, Miss Daumois. These components will greatly benefit my research.” Isene gave a pleased dip of her head, knowing that aside from the Seven Greater Celestial Wyrms, the remains of a named dragon was the best any of them could ever hope for. A part of her had doubted whether even such would be obtainable at all. And yet somehow the Marquis had managed it, all for the greater cause. “The Marquis would appreciate an update in the very near future,” the Elezen added, her hands folding in front of her in a demure position. It was anything but; rarely did she feel any true deference to a non-Elezen, even when the Hyur in question was higher ranked in nobility. She practiced the formality with perfection however, such reverence was expected amongst the social hierarchy after all, but the Four Houses had set an undisputable example of Elezen superiority in her mind. “Can I relay any significant findings?” The Midlander just canted her head. “I shall reserve them for when I speak with him.” Isene narrowed her eyes slightly, a hint of annoyance etching lines at the corner of her eyes. While she was curious as to the details, Josette Reeves seemed disinclined to share any progress of her experimentation except to the Marquis himself. She had wondered how a Midlander of a minor noble house even came by such a knowledge, but having been recommended by Lord Jeaumis and Lord Garamond, Isene was in no position to question the woman. “Now, if you will excuse me.” Josette turned and scanned the rest of the contents arranged in her work room, no longer paying any attention to the Elezen. “The potency of a dragon’s remains is directly analogous to its lifespan and rawness of the materials. They have been preserved well, but any further delay would be a waste of time.” “Very well then,” Isene sniffed at the dismissal and turned. “I shall leave you to your work, Miss Reeves.” She paused at the archway of the thick double doors. “I trust you will take the appropriate precautions in dealing with such dangerous materials?” The Midlander spared her a glance from the corner of her eye and Isene thought she spotted a small curl of her lips. “Worry not, Miss Daumois. I have been looking forward to this for a long time. It will be most enlightening.”

I definitely think everyone should participate! I am super curious to know the census! And following Warren's example... (I feel like this could be RPC's version of fantasy football) (okay it's nothing close, but maybe I can get closer than Warren...)

Roen would fall into the Job category, that of a Paladin. She idolized Sultansworns when she first arrived in Thanalan, and jumped at the first opportunity to train as a Paladin soon as she got to Ul'dah, with hopes of becoming a Sultansworn. But she also has some training in conjury too, so there is a little bit of a class mixed in. Brynnalia would be a "bard" in that she likes to entertain and sing and a bow is her preferred weapon in battle (so she is not within melee reach), but I don't consider a Bard in terms of how FFXIV defines a Bard. Raelisanne/Josette is a "scientist" who studies and dabbles in all sorts of things. So she does not have a true Job nor does she fit into a particular Class.

Sometimes my most enjoyable moments comes from PVP. To this day, my favorite win in WoW was me as a disc priest soloing two rogues. Now that I am in FFXIV, PVP highs don't happen very often, so when it does, I want to share! I was in Seal Rock with Kas yesterday in an 8v8v8 (I like those as a healer, I am not so easily killed) and I happened to cap one node while the rest of the group went off to cap another node. A pug ninja came to join me guard the one I was at. Well soon Maelstrom group came down upon just the two of us, and all I got off was "incoming" on voice to Kas. My faerie and I were keeping the ninja alive as we were furiously trying to keep them from taking our node and also to stay alive, but soon they wised up and started to focus me, and JUST as I ran out of aether stacks and was down to 10% health or so, I got a "I got you" as Kas threw a cover on me. Then my whole group was there, we wiped the floor with Maeltrom bodies and went on to win the match. The pug lala ninja also did not die and was staying close to me for the rest of the match. Good times.

I am pretty sure I complimented Zhavi before in this very thread... but I don't care! And I won't be complimenting Zhavi on the wonderful writing this time... because the player deserves some recognition too. While we've never really talked OOC other than a quick exchange of "hi"... I can tell from the OOC posts: Zhavi's presence is always a positive thing on these boards while also being constructive. Talk about a boon to the community. (sorry, I stole your phrase)

Since the passage of time in-game is much faster than the actual passage of time, I think chiming a bell hourly in-game would become an annoying background noise that happens way too often.

I completely agree with this last part. Nero's death has been a huge catalyst for change for Roen, and I still miss that character dearly! I still plot with the player obviously, and I think it takes a lot of conviction to actually be comfortable in killing off a character you have invested significant amount of time and thought into. As for planning to kill off characters I play... Out of the three I RP/write, one is slated for death. I knew it from the beginning. She will complete her arc then her life and story will come to an end. Another, I have always said that if her story finishes, she could die. Or retire. And the third, I leave open. If RP throws a situation her way where her death is possible, I will consider it! If I think it makes for a good story, I may just go along with it! Certain players will have to be warned first though.

Roen has two guilty pleasures: sweets and dancing. She doesn't like to admit her weakness for sweets. And as for dancing, it isn't a guilty pleasure to dance in a setting where it's expected, like a ball. It is when she is alone, when she either hears music in the distance or imagines one in her head and spins and go through the motions. That's her guilty pleasure because she sees it as an indulgence, a departure from her usual martial training activity or other more serious duties. She hasn't done it in awhile though, since her heart has not been in it.

Wow, from the time I read the original post to when I got to the last one in the thread, there were like five additional replies! I might be repeating what others have said... (and there are plenty good advices here) From your posts, you seem quite self aware of the dynamics of coming from a place where you are super popular to a brand new place where no one knows you. That being the case, I think it will take some time to establish contacts and RP that are substantial. Like many others, I too derped around for a month or so, doing walk ups and such until I met others that I thought I could dive into actual stories with. But it took time to make IC friends and acquaintances. And sometimes a bit of luck helps too. And despite what others have said, sometimes if an FC doesn't get back to you, it might be them and not you. Maybe they aren't actively looking to recruit? Or their recruiter has other things going on right now that it slipped their minds in getting back to you? Or maybe they do have a thing against certain character types... Either way, keep trying! And keep looking! You already got some great suggestions here from other posters. Also, something that worked for me when I started here is to peruse through the RPC boards. I skimmed through the Welcome section, Profile section, Making Connections section, and the IC posts to see what character and player I might want to get to know. Looking for personalities and styles that might gel with mine. If they had a wiki that helped too. Then I PM them to see if they are interested in meeting my character. Anywhos, don't give up! There are plenty of opportunities to meet RPers and get into some storylines here in Balmung. Just have patience and perseverance and I think it will happen!

If Brynn ever gets together a female posse...

Well since ZHAVI DID IT.... Welcome new mods!!! Thank you for your willingness to help out with the RPC boards! Some of your names I don't readily recognize, but that doesn't mean you don't have great ideas and a fresh new outlook for this place! And then there are the familiar faces and old timers... who is that Kylin guy? (just kidding!)

HA! What an adorable intro. I think you need to put some more points into stealth... but charisma seems pretty good! Welcome!

Roen always believed that killing someone was a vile act. That violence should always be the last resort. When she fell in love with a man who used these means for what he believed to be for the greater good, she condemned his methods and tried to turn him away from that path. Only in the end, she ended up killing him. It was the first time she took anyone's life, and the act shattered her core beliefs. Heartbroken and riddled with guilt, she ran away from everyone she knew. It has been almost a year since the incident, and she is still struggling with bouts of depression and doubt. Her coping mechanism has been to isolate herself and dive into mercenary work, killing beasts and monsters. Only, even monsters sometimes turn out not to be clear cut evil things. I haven't mapped out exactly how she comes out in the end; I will let circumstances, stories, and interactions decide that somewhat. I have an idea, but how and if it comes about, who knows? But yes, my characters struggles with the consequences after killing one person, albeit a person she loved. While it may not all be obviously present right there on the surface, it has not been easy for her, and in my opinion, it shouldn't be.

I clicked for a cookie. I was not disappointed. Welcome!

Roen would love the Fellowship of the Ring. The comeraderie, the underdog rising up to take the hardest task, classic good vs evil, she'd be all over that. Brynnalia, on the other hand, she'd be into the romantic comedies. Crazy, Stupid, Love with a jaded and clueless main character. Or the honest humor and sass of the main character in Easy A. Raelisanne, she would find something intriguing in an atypical fragmented movie like Memento. Jameson, even though he is not my character technically but I write for him occasionally, would be very appreciative of Silence of the Lamb.

One morning I got dressed while I was still half asleep and it was dark outside... Got to the office, and about an hour into work, I realized that I wore my brown boot on right foot, and my black boot on my left foot. >__< I crossed my feet a lot that day.

I went with a mass-burial for the poor myself.

Killing wild chocobos. I don't like doing it. :cry: