Roen

So the ten month long arc is finally complete! I just feel the need to thank those who stuck with the story and participated through all that. Osric, you were the first to jump into it, and where it ended up with the confrontation in the tunnels and his insight into Nero and words to Roen... man you sure can insert the right energy into certain scenes. Despite all my complaints to your face, I was happy to have you on board. Crofte, thank you for taking the journey to the possible dark side in the arc. It was fascinating to see just how far she would go in the name of love and duty. Her relationship with Jameson, I think helped to humanize him too, even if just a little. Gideon, I know I just pushed you into the plot, but the impeccable valet was a great addition! It was like a 3rd person's point of view in a way. Thank you for your patience and trusting me enough to throw you into the middle of the plot. Finally Nero. This was your concept, your premise, from No Good Deed to What You Are In The Dark. I just had Roen go through the journey. She definitely came out of it worse for wear with a morality crisis to boot! But it was fun, intense, addicting, and moving for me. Thank you. And there are LOTS of other people I should also thank, those who posted, participated, gave me feedback and such. But that list would be quite long. Thank you all though, this would not have been the same without all of you. Gonna go now since this sounds like some award acceptance speech... -snort-

“...What if I prove you wrong?” “At the end of the day, when beasts have devoured all and the world falls into shadow…your ideals will always take priority.” Nero said, this voice tinged with bitterness. “Would you have done what you did for Osric if he had not carried out his end of the bargain?” Roen matched him with venom of her own. “Would you have left Scythe with that weapon in Pearl Lane? Without anyone else knowing?" The pirate snorted. "Ever thinking of the women and children. If you really must know, the weapon is defective. It's designed to explode when it's activated. It'll take out the building his gang is holed up in, and nothing more." He glanced to the paladin who stared at him eyes wide with her lips parted. "So yes, I would have simply let Scythe have it. Then, when he acts to engage his master stroke, he dies. Along with anyone who follows him." Nero waved a hand. "That would be my last act of vengeance before leaving. It won't cleanse the bandits from Ul'dah, but it will offer Pearl Lane some respite for a time." Roen stiffened, feeling her resolve waver. She had been so sure that all he wanted to do was to prove his point. To convince the rest of the word that his radical way was the only way. That he was willing to accept the bloodshed and gladly so just to convince others. Only now... The paladin bowed her head, her long disheveled forelocks falling limp before her eyes. "I came here to arrest you," she confessed. "That is why I came." "Ever the hypocrite, aren't you?" He turned to face her directly for the first time in their exchange, flashing his trademark smirk. "You never change." He shook his head. “You're going to haul me back to Ul'dah just so I can be tortured and left to rot in a gaol? I suppose that would be a surface definition of justice." Roen glanced at Kiht, uncertainty in her eyes. "Please.” The pirate snorted as he waved his hand toward the Keeper. “If all you want is for me to die without having to get your own hands bloody, simply have Jakkya do it for you. She's right here. You can tell them that I resisted. That I ambushed both of you, and that arresting me simply wasn't an option." His tone and glare turned cold upon the paladin, almost daring her. "Nobody will ever know." Roen straightened, resentment struggling against the reluctance in her heart. "I believed you wanted to bath the streets in blood as you fled to Othard." "I did. I do." His gaze sharpened. "You never bothered to ask whose blood.” The paladin flared her nostrils, stepping towards him. "You think your aim is so sharp, but evil and violence oft do not discriminate once sparked, Nero. There would have been other casualties. Life is a life." "Roen, he still gave them the guns.” Kiht shifted in her stance, and her firm tone clearly revealed that the Keeper had recognized the cracks in the paladin’s resolve. “They still plan to kill innocent people, and he still committed killings of his own. Choose a ground to stand on, Roen. Remember." Nero glared at Roen. "If you're going to continue pretending that you believe in that farce you call justice, then just kill me yourself. Don't force someone else to break themselves for you. Again." He opened his arms out towards her. "I offered you twice before. Both times before, you balked at the idea." Roen’s hand trembled by her side. She did not want to reach for her sword. Her part of her refused, as she had at Lost Hope, then again at Crescent Cove. He had offered her a blade to kill him both times, to end his threat. She had refused. She believed that he was a better man, one that could be saved, one that could be turned from his violent course. And now…? She glanced to Kiht. Was that not why she had brought her friend? But deep down, paladin knew she could not let the huntress do it. "Just know this,” Nero’s gaze bore into her. “There is always going to be someone like me. As sure as the sun rises in the morning, there will always be someone who is pushed too far, pushed too hard, who has decided that standing by is no longer an option." “'Killing one innocent group to save another is not a 'right' thing to do.” Kiht’s voice was clear and edged, as if trying to pierce through the paladin’s haze of conflict. “Roen, his mind has been twisted." "That's right, Roen,” Nero growled. “I'm irreparable. I'm beyond salvation, just like Ul'dah." With a bow of his head, he rotated in his seat on the box to face both of them. He pulled back his hood to reveal an ugly wound above his right eye, one that had been hidden thus far. The paladin could tell it was patched hastily as it oozed pus from the poorly-done stitches. "Put me out of my misery. I'm dying a slow death, just like that wretched city." Roen could not help but stare at the wound with some measure of horror, her eyes flickering a look to Kiht. There was as silent plea to her friend. Her heart was pounding with indecision. "Remove me now, and you remove the threat. You fix the problem.” The pirate stood up from his seat, his stance belligerent. "What's the matter? It's simple, isn't it? I am a threat to you and everything you stand for, everything you hold precious. I am the symbol of the wrongness you seek to correct, the injustice that you've failed to set right." The paladin grimaced to calm the trembling of her lower lip. One hand shot to the hilt of the sword at her side as he loomed over her. "Tis not about justice,” Kiht called out to her, tension also tightening her voice. “Tis about making sure he does not do it again. Turn him over to Osric. He could be back again to do this shite again, Roen." “Don't run away!” He was now shouting. "I'm a monster, made by people like you, made by people who are content to turn a blind eye whenever it suits them!” Her fingers clenched around the hilt, but her arm felt leaden. She could not unsheathe the blade. She stared at him eyes wide, her head unwittingly shaking side to side. "You're going to add Osric to the list, too? Who's next? Who else is going to ravage themselves to defend you from something you don't want to be responsible for?" He spat at her. "I swear to you. I will return, and if Ul'dah has not found its way, if the Jewel of the Desert continues to stamp on those it deems worthless, I will raze it to the ground. I will destroy it completely, utterly, and trample on the ashes." “Stop. STOP! Stop SAYING that! You are just trying to--” Roen found herself shaking. The pirate's voice was full of vehement rage as he continued. "The city is dying. It must be allowed to die and croak its last breath. Only then can it ever have a hope of being renewed!" He glared down at her. "But that's against everything you stand for, isn't it, Sultansworn!? You can live with yourself, you can condemn those people to a lifetime of slow death, as long as your conscience is clean!" "A beast, no matter what made it, is dangerous.” Kiht growled. “Do not let him make you think you are unjust simply because you will not kill innocent people like he has." "Then why not do it?" His voice took on an eerie calm. "We are alone. Jakkya understands you. Simply remove your sword..." He made a motion to an imaginary blade at his side. "And put it here." He tapped his chest, where his heart would be. "Nobody will know. Your honor will be clean. Nobody will know that you killed a defenseless man. Nobody will truly know how much pain you enabled. Nobody will know what it is you did for the 'greater good'." He spat the last phrase derisively. Nero's face, now contorted in pain, twisted into an ugly grin, a diseased caricature of his once carefree smirk. "Nobody will ever know that in that last instant, you knew that I was right, and that you were wrong.” Roen felt heat rise to her cheeks and moisture well in her eyes; her hand upon her blade shook with coiled tension. "I curse the day I met you. Not for my conscience. Not for my honor. But for those who died under that false belief that you could save Ul'dah. I curse the day that I believed you would prove me right." Her face twisted with anger and regret. "I already see that I was wrong all along." The pirate threw his head back and laughed, his earrings jingling with the motion of his head. "If there is one thing you will soon learn, Roen Deneith, it is that there are some things worse than being killed. The pain of death...is nothing compared to the pain of life." "I cannot let you raze Ul'dah." Her expression hardened. "I cannot let you do this again." "I have only ever been the product of my circumstance." "And for that...I am sorry..." Roen rasped. "Then do it," he sneered, daring her. Heavy silence fell between them, before a whisper of steel being drawn sliced through the air and the blade lunged. But it stopped just before his heart, its point quivering just an ilm away. The paladin gasped, as if disbelieving herself. Her face twisted in a deep frown, staring at the length of the blade accusingly. The pirate merely stared at her unflinching, a spiteful look of disdain on his face. His pale eyes bore holes into her, and though he spoke no words, his judgement was loud as the largest bell. Your righteousness cannot save anyone, the memory of his words rang in her mind. He lifted his left hand and slapped the blade away from him, uncaring or unaware of the gash that appears on his forearm that caught the edge of the blade. He turned away from the pair, waving his hand behind him in an expression of derision. "Stand on a ground." Kiht’s growl cut through the air. The smuggler turned, spreading his arms. "It is fruitless, Jakkya. Roen has made her choice." He seemed oblivious to the stream of wet blood that ran down the length of his forearm, staining the bandages that had been crudely wrapped around it. “She is content, to threaten everything she knows and loves, because the method is wrong. Because there must be another way.” Hateful echoes of ideals he despised escaped from his lips like a torrent of vapor. "And if she arrests me, all she is doing is killing me without taking responsibility for it. And she knows it." He stared balefully at the paladin, his gaze filled with pity and disgust. "That is her way, after all. The way of her justice." Roen stood, as if frozen in place, her sword arm suddenly heavier than it had ever felt. Could I…? From the corner of her eyes, the paladin spotted Kiht reaching for her spear. The look the Keeper gave Roen was one of a predator who has designated its mark. "Do you want to risk him doing it again?” Kiht asked pointedly, through gritted teeth. “Do you think he has changed, Roen? Just answer that for me." Roen felt herself grow cold, all blood draining from her face. ”If it was someone like Taeros…I could.” Kiht’s words came roaring through her memory. ”You are a Protector, Roen. Not a hunter.” Then another voice screamed at her. “People have always broken themselves, their ideals,their conscience, for your sake!” “Some of us had to bend. Some of us had to shed whatever righteousness we had left, all to do what was necessary. Some of us had to make deals with the devil for you.” “...It was me.” Her sword dropped to the ground by her side, the metal clang almost painfully loud in the suffocating silence. Roen’s hands felt numb. "What will you do when there is an evil you cannot defeat by just means?" Nero called out to her. "Will you commit evil to destroy evil? Or will you remain steadfast and righteous…even if that means surrendering to evil?" Those were the very words he had asked her the first day they had met. "I said...I would do it," Roen rasped. "If it would stop evil, once and for all." Her vision had blurred a little, and she blinked the moisture away as she looked to the man before her, his visage darkened with hatred and bitterness. “I guess that is you,” she said quietly. "There is no evil!” Kiht was now yelling across the room, her spear drawn. “There is no righteousness! There are just people, many of whom are innocent. Do you want him doing this again?! Is he innocent, Roen?!" She took one step then another towards the man she once loved. Her steps came slow, heavy with regret. "Are you going to hide again, Roen?” Nero remained still as the paladin began to approach him. “Let someone else bloody their hands for you? Will you ever stop running from what you know must be done?" As she neared, his own vitriol gave way just a little, his voice lowering in her proximity. “Sometimes, the ends don’t justify the means. Sometimes, the bloodshed goes nowhere, the lives taken rendered meaningless.” His brows were furrowed with regret for a moment, before it twisted into something darker. “But no matter what, I would rather commit evil, misguided and blind as it is, than to simply stand by and allow evil to happen.” One gauntlet was shed then the other. They dropped to the ground in a cloud of dust as Roen came to stand just a breath away from him. She tilted her head to regard his wounds, his numerous bandages that were more apparent now over his chest and body. Her bare hand hovered by the ugly wound above his eye. On any other day, aether would have been summoned at her fingertips to heal him, but on this day, no glow came. Nero stood still, meeting her gaze. "You gave me hope,” the paladin murmured, nothing but sadness in her heart. “Even if it was only for a short time. And in your own way, you gave me something more. I will remember that." The quiver to her lower lip returned and she looked upon him with her deepest regret. She leaned in, almost a tender gesture as her lips nearly brushed his cheek. "But I cannot let her do it," she whispered. The second unsheathed length of steel did not whisper; it was silent, with only a glimmer of the orange glow that licked the metal blade spared by that single lamplight. It was a knife from her belt sheath. "I suppose...this is my atonement." Roen thrust the knife upwards, through his ribcage. She knew exactly where his heart was beating. And in that moment, she understood. The sacrifices made to one’s own soul so that others may not suffer the same. To commit violence to end violence, because every other method had failed. She finally understood Nero’s heart, just as she plunged a blade into it. “I pity the events you will have to endure, Miss Deneith. I will not relish the day you understand why I act the way I do. ...Mayhaps you shall be stronger than I, when that day comes." Nero gasped as the knife pierced through the soft bandages into his flesh. His left hand trembled; the fingertips sparking with violet aether, but nothing coalesced. His right hand instinctively struggled to reach the knife as he stumbled backwards, his legs failing him. Roen stood immobile, paralyzed by the vision of the man dying before her. In one last, defiant instant, he curled his casual, easy smirk, even as blood bubbled from his mouth and spilled down his lips. He fell to one knee, his left hand still crackling with unstable aether. He gasped as he tried speak but naught emerged but a mouthful of blood. Then a last curl of his lip into a grin…one could almost call it satisfaction. The violet glow vanished from his hand. The paladin’s breath now only came in stuttered gasps, her head shaking unwittingly in a silent plea. A heavy, ignominious thud greeted the ground, as his legs gave out and Nero fell to his side. Blood began to rapidly pool around his body. His ice blue eyes, once holding such sharp clarity and conviction, were now glazed over and milky with the transparent veil of death. It was only after he fell limp that Roen rushed to his side, falling upon her knees. Her bloodied hands trembled as they hovered near his face then the growing stain on his chest. Her vision began to blur then burned as tears began to fall freely from her eyes. “Why…” She pleaded in between sobs that now rose, her hands closed into fists as she began to pound them against his chest in protest. “Why?!” Again and again she pounded her fists on top of his lifeless body, until the paladin crumpled forward. Her form shook as she wept, her arms wrapping around him in an embrace that came much too late. Nero Lazarov would never answer. He was forever gone.

“...What form will that atonement take, if I fail?" “Will we? Truly listen to each other?” Roen met his gaze, her coiled frame losing some of its earlier uneasiness. “You wanted me to admit to your truth. And I wanted you to admit mine. Would we be here now if we had just met in the middle?” The paladin bowed her gaze, sadness tugging at the fringes of her thoughts. But she chased it away. "Perhaps you are right, and there is no better way. No way to incite such a change, to end the suffering quickly, without violence and extreme actions. But you started it. You took lives. You set in motion plans to bath streets in blood. And then...nothing." She swept her hand toward him. "You gave up on your plans, and now you flee. A part of myself...I braced for it. Somewhere within, I knew the storm was coming. I warned others what might happen." Roen closed her hand, quelling the anger that also threatened to rise. She was not here for vengeance, she was not here for regrets. She was here for justice. She had to remind herself of why she came. "And after all that, there was nothing. And now here you are. You have given your plans to someone who will put a stop to them.” Her expression turned steely. “After all is said and done, what were those deaths for?" Nero paused in thought. "Those deaths were for hope. The hope for something better. A better future. The kind of hope that is worth killing for. But now?” He waved an arm. “Now, the most I can do is to adjust the intention. Cut my losses. Simply put -- those deaths were made in order to make a point.” “...A point?!” The paladin gritted her teeth. Those blue eyes sharply turned to her. “It was a message, not to the Monetarists, or the Sultana, but to people like you, and Crofte, and Melkire, and the innocents you claim to protect. It was a message that if you would not strive for a better future, if you would not openly resist tyranny and corruption, if you simply stood by and allowed things to reach the breaking point -- then someone else would rebel. Someone like me would emerge, and armed with nothing but a bloody past, a skewed perspective and raw, blind fanaticism, we would make the changes you could not." He paused again, his head bowing to look to his hand. “It was for hope, and a future,” he repeated softly before his gaze hardened. “A future that's been quite handily squashed, for which you are to be commended.” “Always blaming someone else.” She snapped. “When you buckled under your own realization that methods did matter. The end did not justify all means. You sabotaged yourself.” Roen’s nostrils flared with indignation that she could not keep in check. But before she could continue, Kiht stepped up in between them. "One person's hope can be another person's curse.” The miqo’te scowled at the smuggler. “A hope is not always justified. All I have ever seen in this is a war. There is not good or evil side. Just two side who can not, or will not, compromise." "That is a very rational perspective, miss.” Nero glanced at the Keeper from the corner of his eyes. “I'm rather sorrowful that we did not meet sooner; your shades of grey would have brought valuable clarity." He sighed. “In any case, you are completely right. It was…is…a mistake to paint this as an issue of black and white, of ‘us’ and ‘them’, of ‘good’ versus ‘bad’. The mistake was in thinking either side was ‘good’, because really, there are only ever ‘bad’ sides. But sometimes those sides are against one another.” Roen closed her hands into tight fists by her side. “"I thought...there was a part of you that mourned those lives you took. That wanted to make it all worth something. But if lives were taken for a cause that failed, and now you just justify those losses to make a point..." She inhaled deeply, her voice growing quieter with a demand. "What is our atonement?" "You think I don't mourn the lives I took?” It was his turn to look indignant. “You truly believe I am that heartless? Roen, if I were that heartless, would I have done all of this for the sake of my fellows who live in destitution and squalor? The rest of our lives, from this moment forth is our atonement. Whenever we close our eyes and see the faces of the people we’ve killed, that is our atonement. Whenever we walk Ul’dah’s streets and see the Monetarists, the Blades, the bandits running roughshod, and we think about raising our swords, only to remember that we cannot stop them or change them…that is our atonement." “That is a coward’s response,” Roen retorted. “That is the answer of someone who is…cutting his losses and running. You too have thrown in with the rest of us that you blame for your failure. I believed in your vision. I believed we could have made a difference.” “But you didn’t want any part of the sacrifices that needed to be made! You couldn’t imagine harm coming to women and children, when women and children are in harm’s way, every day!” He seethed. "I could have gorged myself on a life free of hardship or sorrow, and simply forgotten those I had left behind. I chose not to. And perhaps that was the wrong choice. Perhaps when the lights are off and the swords are out, the correct answer is apathy." “Your plan is forcing things on people who want no part of it.” Kiht shook her head. “There are those who are just people trying to make a peaceful living, and you would have them dragged into this." “You are entirely correct, Jakkya. And therein lies the problem, no? What difference exists between a man who commits evil, and a man who fails to prevents evil from happening?" "So where does it end?” Roen glared at him. “A man who commits evil, and another man who does nothing to stop evil, and then those who will commit evil to fight evil. Where does it all end? It does not. The world burns in darkness because nothing else matters. You have condemned everyone." "And that is the paradox,” Nero sighed. “Will you commit evil to destroy evil, or remain righteous and just even if that means surrendering to evil? In either case, evil remains." "This paradox...does not save the world, Nero.” Her words were barely a whisper. “It saves no one." "I do not need it to save the world," the pirate snapped. "I only need it to save those who were never given the opportunity to save themselves." "There is turning a blind eye, and then there is helping in the best way,” Kiht protested. Roen could tell from her tone that there was a part of her that believed that Nero might be convinced in this. Roen knew better now. “Donate gil, food, shelter. Give what you can, but going to these lengths is beyond a moral line that you did not care enough to cross." "Do not presume to know me or my actions.” The smuggler shot the Keeper a sharp look. “Do not presume to know what kind of city Ul'dah is, to know what kind of ruler the Syndicate is. Benevolence is not always an immediate blessing. You think such solutions have never crossed my mind? You think I’ve never tried such things before reaching this extreme?" Nero turned his gaze on Roen. "Do you recall the little girl? What happened when the man gave her gil, out of the kindness of his heart? Where did such kindness lead her?" The paladin blinked. She recalled that story still, so clearly. The one of the girl with hope, and the man who had given her the gil. Nero had been that man, and the girl’s death had haunted him since. She could still see the ghost of regret in his eyes whenever he spoke of her. Her gaze softened little as she answered him. "The man had benevolence then. And it lightened the girl's heart if only for a bell. If she had but taken a right turn rather than left, if she had maybe found a kind sister rather than the Blades...perhaps her life would have been different. Perhaps she would have remembered that man's kindness and it would have bloomed in her heart so she would return it later ten fold to another child." Roen’s composure faltered for a moment. "It was not the man's fault what happened. It was not his kindness that condemned her." Nero would not be moved, his pale eyes growing cold with fury. "But she ended up dead in a ditch the next day. What you wish would have happened, what might have happened, will never erase what did happen. To assume that the only choice in any situation is benevolence, to believe that a good act with good intentions is incapable of causing harm and suffering, that is the worst kind of ignorance." “As is believing so firmly that the darkness is your only option.” Roen frowned again. How had she believed that there was hope within him to be something better? When he had already so thoroughly condemned it in his mind? "At one point, I might have even agreed with you about my own naivete.” Nero exhaled. “The truth is, Nero Lazarov is nothing more than the sum of his circumstances and experiences. He never chose this life. He never chose to have such a skewed perspective of the world. Was it his fault to be born penniless in a city where wealth was everything? Was it his fault that the suffering he endured twisted his sorrow into anger, even hatred? Was it his fault that his attempts at peace, his attempts at a docile salvation for those he cared about, was it his fault that they failed? Perhaps." He fell quiet for a moment, his expression turned pensive. "Being a victim perhaps does not excuse what he -- what I -- have done, or intended to do. But the truth of it is that I am nothing but the product of my past. Would a kinder and gentler Nero Lazarov have been better for this world, for Ul'dah?" "And this Nero Lazarov,” Roen eyed the man, almost accusingly. “Has he been better for this world? For Ul'dah?" The paladin was met with a cold stare from beneath the hood of his robe. "Of course not. But who we want to be is often very different from who we must be, and in the end, this is the Nero who survived.” “I do not know how the kinder, gentler Nero Lazarov would have fared.” Roen forcibly dismissed the wistful sadness that rose at the thought. Instead she fixed her gaze on him, her own words slowly turning grim. "But the man that did survive has killed many. He has incited riots. I cannot allow you to do that again."

"What is the measure of a life's worth?" It was early afternoon when Roen and Kiht stepped onto the wooden pier at Aleport. The port town was rather sparse, and its harbor was conspicuously available. The warehouse they had been looking for was dull and featureless: flat wooden doors, limestone exterior. It was be a perfect place for a would-be fugitive in hiding. “Too many smells, and the sea air burns my nose. We must rely on our eyes, it seems.” Kiht sniffed the air as she pushed her goggles up on her forehead. She had come dressed in dark camouflage armor; three black stripes of warpaint adorned her face and a long spear hung from her back. She paused when the paladin next to her did not move, Roen remaining still as she stared at the warehouse before them. The miqo’te huntress laid her hand lightly on the woman’s arm. “Take heart,” she said softly. Roen nodded and approached the building with heavy steps. She too had donned black armor -- dark plate-mail chased with silver gilding. Her shield hung heavy upon her back and a longsword swung by her side. Why had she chosen to come armored this way? Was she expecting Nero to fight her? In truth, she did not know what to expect. Her heart pounded as she imagined what or whom she might find inside. Nero’s estate had been emptied out, cleaned of furniture, and even the walls were clear of dust, indicating a hurried exodus. But sitting in the center of the room was a single modest chair with a small card resting on it. It had a hastily drawn clock, an address of a warehouse in Aleport, and tomorrow’s date. He has to be here. The door swung open with ease, though the brass hinges squealed in protest. The interior of the warehouse was just as lacking as the exterior; unmarked crates occupied the walls gathering dust and barrels huddled together in the corner along with a pile of ragged blankets. Only one figure occupied the large space, dressed in a plain unadorned robe, perched on a small box at the center of the room. He craned his head back toward the two that entered, and while Roen could not yet see his face, the voice was unmistakable. “I was wondering if you were going to be late,” Nero called out. The paladin squinted her eyes as she closed the doors behind her and Kiht, adjusting to the dimness within. Two shafts of sunlight filtered in through the high windows, but otherwise only a single lantern sat next to the man and his box. Its flickering flame lent an orange glow to the man’s robes. “Bound for Othard, so I hear.” She answered, approaching him slowly. “That is my intention, yes.” The pirate snapped his fingers and a purple cloud of thaumaturgy puffed near his hand then vanished. The flame in the lantern seemed to suddenly rekindle itself, burning with renewed vigor. Roen knitted her brows. “Why did you leave me the address?” “Because I felt I owed you that much,” the smuggler answered without hesitation. “To be honest, I had considered simply leaving a linkpearl in my home. I knew that is where you would check first. But then my ship got delayed, and so here I am.” The cowl turned slightly, eyes within peering at the two. “Feel free to survey the premises, if you’d like. There is no one else here but myself.” His words did not relieve her apprehension, but she took steps towards him nonetheless. “So. To Othard. Then what?” She could see from the corner of her eyes that Kiht stayed near her as well. “I’m not sure,” he sighed. “I have no money to speak of. No belongings besides the clothes on my back and my abilities. Maybe find a new way of living. Have a mysterious encounter, get married, settle down on some backwater farm. Maybe live a life under the Empire, like what I dreamed of as a boy. Maybe I'll fight and lose against some giant monster. Maybe I'll just kill myself." He shrugged nonchalantly. "The wind could blow at any direction. The only thing I know for certain is that Othard is an opportunity. Nothing more, and nothing less." "What is to stop you from returning to Eorzea to check the results of your work?” Kiht asked curtly. “What is to stop the wind from blowing you where you may yet cause more havoc? After all this, are you truly content to just live a life of minding your own business?" "A very wise question, miss..." Nero turned in his seat and peered at the miqo’te. "I could have sworn we have met before. Were you, perchance, lacking in the war paint in our last encounter?" "Kiht Jakkya.” The Keeper came to stand within few fulms of him and Roen, her frame tense. She was watching him carefully. “I was in your employ before I knew what you were doing, or what you had planned." "Ah, now I remember.” Nero nodded. “Your clan's scouts were very, very competent. Nary feather nor beak of Ixal showed themselves to my caravans, while they had operated. They've my compliments. Despite what you may think of me, miss, I do hope the coin I paid them offered them some measure of comfort." Roen watched him carefully, even though he still kept much of his face hidden. He had always been a difficult man to read, his usual smirks and sarcasm often quick to mask everything else underneath. But now as he spoke in what seemed a neutral tone, he seemed to be hiding something more. "To return to your question, the likelihood that I will return -- given that something or someone does not kill me first -- is almost indisputable. Whether it be in ten years or fifty years, I believe that sooner or later I'll return and see whether or not Ul'dah proved me wrong. It may be a simple dalliance, a curiosity to gaze at my past, or it might be a fiery vengeance, wrought in fire and steel. Who can say?" "Osric showed Roen and I the letter. We know your detailed plan now.” Kiht growled. Nero responded with a scoffing laugh. He raised an eyebrow at them beneath his hood, an ice blue eye staring at the miqo'te coldly. "Oh? Then what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out there, putting poor Scythe out of his misery?" He shook his head. "No matter. I have no idea where my ambition will be twenty or thirty years down the line, especially regarding Ul'dah. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the more things change, the more things stay the same. That much is true of both people and the cities they live in." Roen narrowed her gaze, studying the man as he continued. “It's possible that I will take a glance at it and then leave, never to return. Conversely, it's just as possible that I will rekindle my rebellion and raze it to the ground. Of course, at this juncture, the last thing I want to do is even think of Ul'dah. I'm rather curious to see Othard myself." There was an odd air about him, one tinged with bitterness and perhaps resignation. "Then why do what you did?” Kiht crossed her arms. “It would just cause more hardship to only end up in the same way. Only difference is a different people will have the power." "Ah, so you agree then, miss Jakkya, that attempting to instill change is fruitless? You are wiser than I took you for." He flashed an ironic grin, as if reveling in the hypocrisy of the question. "I thought you would make something of an explanation or justification.” Kiht’s gaze bore him a dark look. “Are you saying you have none? The Hells did you do it for then?" Nero sighed, folding his hands together. "If I did explain myself to you, if I did justify my actions, would you believe me? Would you understand? Would you even be capable of understanding? When an oppressive system nourishes the rulers with the suffering of the ruled…you think that kind of system can be dismantled safely, quietly?" He held up a finger. “Ah, but I know what you are going to say. 'There had to be another way.’ Interesting how that convenient excuse always comes up to save the conscience of those who fail to act. But you did not come here to listen to me preach, and to tell the truth, I would rather not be preaching. Why don't we open a true dialogue?" He opened his arms wide as if in offering. "I will listen to what you have to say. About me. About my methods, my goals. Make no mistake, I've committed atrocities for what I believed to be right. But if you think of me as nothing but a black-hearted villain, then you've truly failed to pay attention to the story." The pirate turned toward Roen, a hard stare on her. "In all of our arguments, we've done nothing but shout our convictions at one another and fail to listen to the other side. Mayhaps this time will be different, no?"

Coats, those look soft. Didn't I see those on Jameson's bed? Kage, it took months to grow out. Where were you?

I heard Kage is coming back to RPing again. Does this mean we should expect more kidnapping/hostage plots?

I will add my two cents! All of the posted stories that I've participated in either originated from live RP or at least integrated some form of live RP. This is because I love live RP in that it is a dynamic exchange of dialogue and action. You have to think on your feet right then and there. But, I also like retelling that scene after it is restructured into a written post, because the post can add even more to the story in terms of showing different perspectives and even flashbacks. Pure forum RP for me is a little more tricky in that the dynamics are vastly different on how you react to the other person. You can't just post one liners as you would in a live RP. You want to give your post some substance but also not keep going on and on without the particpation of the other characters in the scene. This was actually tricky for me to learn and I think I am still learning it. It's where I find that perspectives can really enrich the scene and you can expand how your character is feeling. My very first foray into forum RP was No Good Deed, and boy was I nervous. The current thread I am part of, What You Are In The Dark, is a mix of both retelling of live RP and forum RP. I think it's pretty obvious which one is what, especially if there is a lot of back and forth dialogue going on in between characters. The fight in the tunnels? That was a retelling of live RP. I was there, I participated in it, but when it was told via posts and from different character's perspectives, I gained SO MUCH MORE insight into what they were thinking when this and that happened. I LOVED THAT. I can say that that is where my enjoyment comes from in written posts. In seeing that extra insight into characters in the story. As for the current confrontation and violence in Pearl Lane with Scythe and his gang? That is ALL Forum RP. Loosely coordinated behind the scenes, with each character given the freedom to orchestrate their part however they wanted, then the rest of the contributors figuring out how to proceed depending on what was posted before them. Still very much a cooperative and yet improvisational writing. That is essentially what RP is all about, right? Now some people just RP and not write about it. That's fine too. Why do I like retelling in-game RP? Because I like telling stories that unfold through RP and writing about it lets me revisit it someday. I still enjoy remembering what happened a year ago. It also is a source of continuity for me as well. And this mix of retelling live RP mixed in with forum RP is how most of the threads I am part of are handled. As for jumping into a forum RP thread, as Qhora mentioned, if a thread says [Open], by all means, jump in! I am sure the thread creator will appreciate the participation. I know I jumped in two threads in my RPC lifetime, and enjoyed both occasions, even if one was just one time post-blurb (thanks Kali!). If you want to orchestrate a storyline for yourself (usually they are denoted with [Closed] tag) then recruit a few people into your story, agree on a premise at least and have at it. My suggestion though is that if you are contributing in someone else's arc, even as a cameo appearance, make sure that your contribution adds to that narrative. Introspection? Great. Flashbacks? Wonderful! It lends more insight into your character! But make sure it also is relevant to that narrative as well. Good luck! (This also turned out to be WAY longer than I had planned...)

Ala Mhigooooooooo!

It's been awhile since I cleared them all but I want ponies! I can heal. Edit: I can probably Bard DPS if you really need, although... I heal better.

Welcome, Gareth! You have plenty of insightful questions, and I think you already got answer to most of them. As for what kind of flavor of RP Balmung has, I think honestly it covers a wide range. I've been part of or seen really cool RP that spans anywhere from political power struggles, to adventure RP, to romance, and sometimes even venturing into absurdities and silliness. As long as you find those RPers of the same mind and interests, I think you can find what you are looking for. Good luck and welcome to Balmung!

Musicals... and TV shows that have singing in them. I watched Glee when it was on, and now Nashville. Shhh.

Hmm. This... might be Brynn and Gideon.

Some story screenshots! "We struck a bargain. For some folks o' his ilk 'n' mine, such things are all we understand. All we can ever understand. Sometimes, here 'n' there, someone shines a Light, and we wake up. ...I'm sorry that he never woke up, Roen." "But Miss cannot deny that I am now a target, and that those most closely connected with me are, little by little, eradicated. This is the safe way, Miss. Leave." "But... I do not wish to say goodbye." "Did Miss not hear me? This is necessity. Wishes have no part in it. Leave." "My guess is that our assassin's employer provided names at random, names known to be associated with your employer. North was not ideal for implication, but the name or description had been given, and an assassin always makes the attempt once paid."

I should have included in my initial compliment post... I would like some free art please....

Oh HO. Very nice work!

Roen said nothing at first. The Flame sergeant came to stand on one side of her, Kiht on the other. He leaned against the railing with one arm, the other hanging a bit limp at his side. He sighed as he looked up at the sky that had darkened quickly with his arrival, raindrops beginning to spatter against his vest and tunic. “I heard what happened, sergeant.” The paladin kept her gaze on the distant waterfall, not minding the rain. “In the tunnels.” “...And?” Osric glanced her way, his voice lowered. “Was that what you promised Nero?” The sergeant did not answer right away. He turned back to the waterfall. “In exchange for everythin’ he could give me on Scythe? Yes, that was the bargain.” This made her pause and look to him, surprised. “Did he give you what you needed?” “He gave me everything. No one else needs t’die for their sqaubblin'.” Roen sighed, her shoulders sagging with some relief. “At least he honored that promise.” Osric snorted. “Think he took it as some sort o’ professional courtesy.” “So what now, Sergeant? What will you do?” The Flame turned his gaze back to the paladin once more, meeting her eyes. "That's not what y'truly want t'ask me, now is it?" "I do not even know where to begin. I have been trying to sort this out in my head. The point of..." She paused. "What you did. What I have done. What Nero has done. I suppose you got what you needed from him. So your actions were justified? I am not here to judge you for what you did in the tunnels. I just...I just need to know what you intend to do now. Are you going to stop Scythe?" "Should I? Suppose I should. Or perhaps I ought t'stick to m'word and just pull the innocent out o' the man's path o' destruction." He shook his head. "One thing y'learn when it comes to these things, Roen? When titans clash, the little folk suffer. And that ain't right. That ain't ever been right.” "And what. Let the bloodshed happen?" The paladin scowled. "Bandits shooting at whoever in the streets just to make a point, it is not what I ever had in mind. Do you understand? For all the suffering Nero said he wanted to end, he promised me he would try to be a better man in doing it." “Aye, and that's why I'm puttin' an end to it. We'll have Ernis and his bastards within a few suns." Osric narrowed his eyes for a moment longer upon her, before turning back to lean against the railing. Roen still continued to stare at him, shame and guilt heating her cheeks despite the rain soaking her. "But he lied. He never intended to spare anyone. He thought it acceptable." The Flame lowered his head, his next words nearly a whisper. “If he thought it acceptable, he wouldn't have given me Scythe. He would've sailed on to Othard, as he's plannin' on doin' if he weren't lyin' in his letter, and he would've let them all burn." He gave her a sidelong look. "I told you once he 'n' I were more alike than y'knew. You never asked me how.” “Tell me.” "We grew up without hope," he said simply. "I sent him a letter, askin' him t'help me save the little ones. The ones just the way he used t'be." He pushed off the railing and and reached beneath his vest with his left hand. "I have both letters here. Would you like t'read them?" Roen could not say no. She had to read for herself Nero’s words, those that would save Pearl Lane, and stop the bloodshed that he himself had planned. When she nodded, Osric handed over sheets of parchment rolled up in leather, bound by a thin knot. The paladin undid them carefully, but when opened, she read them eagerly. The more she read, the tighter her grip had become on those letters. "I don't think y'can deny it, Roen," the Flame said softly. "Was always odd, his hatred o' Blades. I think you 'n' I know perfectly well where 'n' how he grew up." The paladin did not look up from those letters. "Does...does that justify the women and children he had killed?" “No.” "It still does not change the fact that he sold those guns. His plan was to bath the streets in blood.” Her voice was beginning to shake as she stared back at the sergeant. “Would he have given these to you if you had not done what you did in the tunnels? If not for the professional courtesy?!" Osric met her gaze for a few moments, then curled a small smile. There was no mirth in it, only a profound sadness that reached his emerald eyes. "We struck a bargain. For some folks o' his ilk 'n' mine, such things are all we understand. All we can ever understand. Sometimes, here 'n' there, someone shines a Light, and we wake up." He slowly bowed his head. "I'm sorry that he never woke up, Roen." She shoved the letters back into Osric’s hand and spun away from him, her hands shaking by her side. She quickly swiped at her cheeks that were moist with rain and emotion. It was after a long pause of silence that she spoke again. “I stood by him,” she rasped. “Even after what he did.” “Acceptance ain’t a sin,” Osric’s words held an audible scowl. “I swore an oath once.” Roen wrinkled her nose to forces the sadness away. “To protect the helpless, to raise my sword and shield to defend them against those who would harm them." She inhaled sharply. “And then I stood by, while he planned that very thing. Because why? Was it my hubris? Did I really think I could change him? Did I just imagine the goodness there?" She shot the sergeant an indignant glare. “He warned me from the very start. What he was. What he wanted. It was me. I did not want to believe it.” She placed a hand against her chest. “I thought...if he wanted to damn himself to end the suffering...if I could see that he hated himself for what he wanted to do..." She shook her head, shameful. "I thought I could turn him from that." "Tis not a sin to love or hope either,” Kiht finally broke her silence from behind the paladin. She sounded morose. Roen turned from them both, staring back out to the waterfall. She blinked away the raindrops from her lashes. "That is my folly. That is my mistake. One I must atone for." "You offered forgiveness 'n' mercy 'n' acceptance to a man who'd never known any." Osric turned towards her. "You have t'hit rock bottom 'fore y'can recognize those gifts for what they are, Roen. Take it from someone who knows." “And what GOOD DID IT DO?!” The paladin whirled back toward the Flame. Her voice had risen and she was yelling; her anger, disappointment, regret and sorrow now spilling forth along with her tears. Osric growled as he pushed himself off the railing, stepping towards her. His left hand seized her jerkin by the collar and shook her slightly. “You care that much?!” Roen glared back at the sergeant, her lower lip quivering. “I swore an oath,” she said hoarsely. “Then COME BACK TO IT!” He shouted back at her. “"Some of us are no good," he panted, sweat shimmering over his skin as if he'd run five malms. "Some of us ain't blessed with freedom, 'n' choice. The Order let you down, 'n' so you fled 'n' took up someone else's cause. Pick your own ground and stand on it, gods damn you." He finally released her and stepped back, one hand going to the wooden railing for support. The paladin stood stalk still, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths taken. Her eyes glazed over the man in front of her to the distant cherry blossom tree that was being pelted by the rain. Could I…? A long pause of silence passed before she spoke again. “I...know what I must do.” She nodded faintly, as if to herself. "And what's that?" The sergeant sounded tired, but curious still. Roen’s eyes followed the course of a single petal spinning violently in the wind, tossed haphazardly by the rain. "I swore an oath,” she repeated her mantra once more as if in recitation. “I need to protect the little people from those who would bring them harm." She did not look back at the Flame. "Gratitude, Sergeant,” the paladin murmured, although there was no warmth in her words. Only resignation. "I will let you know when I am successful." She bowed her gaze as it followed the tumbling petal as it descended into the depths below. "Suppose you will. Suppose I'll have t'wait 'n see." Osric grunted with little satisfaction. An extended palm with a blue pearl resting on it entered her view, drawing the paladin’s attention back to the Flame. "Yours, if y'want it." He smirked oddly. "Suppose you'd rather not. Folks find me despicable these suns." Roen took a few deep breaths before she took up the pearl. She pocketed it without a word. Osric blinked, genuine surprise in his eyes. There seemed to be a gleam of something -- a grim smile perhaps, tugging at the corner of his lips. "Welcome back, Ser." Roen frowned at the title. But she said nothing as he turned to Kiht, motioning over the miqo’te who had remained silent all this time. "Kiht, a word in private? Mayhap two." The paladin watched the two walk off on their own. She turned back to the waterfall, letting the thunderous rapids drown out her doubts. [align=center]~[/align] Kiht returned after sharing private words with Osric before his departure from the Lavender Beds. There was a determined stride to her steps as she came to stand next to Roen, her arms crossed. "When a rampaging beast does not become tame, he must be put down,” she said matter-of-factly. When Roen did not meet her gaze, she continued, the Seeker too looking to the violent fall of the water in the distance. "What do you need to do Roen. I am at your side." “Are you still willing to help me?” the paladin asked, her voice muted but calm. “Indeed.” “Then let us prepare a trip to Noscea.” Roen let out a silent exhale. “We both know where he lives. If he truly plans to leave for Othard, we may still catch him preparing.” “We give the beast one more chance to be tame. If he does not then you can never know when he might return.” She paused, her expression growing dark. “Jackals always return.”

Roen stood at the edge of the wooden walkway looking out over the waterfall. Its constant roar bothered her not, and an occasional twirl of cherry blossom petals that danced through the air tamed the majestic view of the rapid’s long descent. It seemed to her that Lavender Beds nurtured peace and tranquility in every nook of its grounds, and it was here that Roen had found herself recuperating after her escape from the Black Cells. She barely remembered leaving Taeros’ manse, her thoughts spinning and her body leaden with fatigue. She found herself on the doorsteps of Cliffperch, looking up at Brynhilde Wulf’s surprised expression. The Highlander took her in without question and gave her respite for a few suns, allowing her to sleep and eat within their protected walls. Roen was thankful for Miss Wulf’s discretion. The Highlander did not ask for details and she offered quiet words of wisdom if only to give the paladin some reprieve from her disquieting thoughts. It was also because she was afforded a few more suns in Thanalan that she was able to find Gideon in time to stop the attack on him. But despite the valet’s reassurances of his own health and capabilities, Roen could not help but worry for the man, and wondered how much of his troubles stemmed from her. But in truth, she herself was in no shape to protect him, and she feared that being near him would only put him in more danger. So as soon as she was able, Roen left Thanalan, traveling to Gridania in search of her friend, Kiht. Gideon had told her of what happened in the tunnels, how she had been present, along with Osric and a few others. They had gone beneath the city to try and rescue her, and to lure Taeros out into the open. How she must have worried, the paladin had thought. It was not the first time her dear friend had gone out of her way to try and help her when she was in trouble. So when she felt strong enough, Roen sought her out in Lavender Beds. A cool breeze tossed her long forelocks past her eyes as Roen leaned against the wooden railing. She recalled their warm reunion, surprise and relief clear in the miqo’te’s dark gaze. But soon their tidings had turned somber, as Kiht began to ask about her affairs. The words the paladin had exchanged with her friend still rang in her mind, as loud as the pounding echo of the waterfall. "I know that you believed in him. I do not know what to say other than he failed you. The only mistakes you made were mistakes of faith." Kiht’s words had not lent her any comfort. Guilt still weighed heavily on Roen, and yet she was hesitant to set the course to lift it. But a part of her knew what awaited her. What she must do. "Do I find him now? Make him answer for the wrongs he has done? If all he had done amounted to nothing, then…should I not at least try and bring him to some kind of justice?" It was as if Kiht could sense the paladin’s unease. "Is he still a threat to anyone? Mayhaps you should not ask me because I would say that you have done enough. Let others find him. I know plenty wish to." “He has killed before. He...likely will again. For reasons he has justified to himself. I tried to justify it, forgive, it, and tried to help him atone for it when I thought he wanted such things. I stood by him through this. Should I not atone for my own mistakes in that?" Her friend had looked upon her, her gaze hardened. "You once told me that if you met your father, you could not hate him. Or was it that you could not kill him? Either way, could you truly kill Nero now? Because that is what will be done to him, one way or another. Arrest him and he will be killed. What if he fights you? That is why I say you must only pursue him if you can accept doing the deed yourself. As Osric did, with Taeros." "I...I thought I could kill Taeros," Roen had confessed, shame constricting her breath even then. "When I escaped. I went to go find the noble when I realized there was a hidden tunnel into his manse. I thought that was something I could do, after all this. But…I could not." "You found Taeros...but you did not kill him?" "I was somewhat delirious. I thought it would right some wrongs...but to just kill him, that would not be right. To sneak into a man's home with the sole intent to end his life, he did not deserve that." "You could not kill that bastard, so I am now even more convinced that you could not do so to Nero. You are a Protector, Roen. Not a hunter." "He and Nero should be brought to trial. Judged by the law. It should not be delivered at the end of a vigilante's sword. Taeros was defenseless. Without weapons, without soldiers...could you cut down a defenseless man?" Roen could recall Kiht’s expression then. It had grown cold. Her eyes held the look of a predator. "If it is someone like Taeros...yes. I could.” Those words spoken by her friend still shocked her now. But Roen had to remind herself of what mattered: the virtues she upheld and the ideals that made her who she was. "I am a free Paladin. I swore the Oath of a Sultansworn once. Nero put the people I promised to protect in danger. He planned for riots in Pearl Lane and arranged for deaths of women and children. I need to make certain he will not do that again." Kiht’s voice softened in response to the paladin’s steel. "Then what can you do? You made mistakes. Mayhaps you should share what you know with Gharen or Osric. They can do the deed. You still have other things to worry about, do you not?" "And let others take the burdens that should be mine?" Her own response had been quick, almost a knee-jerk indignation. Her friend had looked forlorn, there was only pity in her eyes. "I only see two choices before you. Leave him, or chase him.” She took a deep breath in before she continued. “...If you chase him, you need to be willing to kill him." Kiht’s voice was suddenly drowned away in the constant din of the waterfall, and another spoke in her ear. A face rose from her memory, one of ice-blue gaze behind soot black locks with their fiery orange highlights, and his eyes bore into her. She found herself standing at the edge of the pier at Crescent Cove with a blade between them that he had stuck between the wooden planks. "Blood and war will fill the streets. And if you want to prevent all of that from happening…if you want to save Ul'dah, take that blade and eliminate me now. I am a threat. I will tear down everything you hold dear about that wretched hive of a city.” The cold fire in his eyes had not wavered then, nor his conviction. Had he known then, what would happen? “It's within your power to stop all of this now.” Nero did not relent. “Because I will not turn away from my path. Not ever.” She remembered his smile then, it was without regret, without a sense of forlornness. “If you care about Ul'dah as you claim, then prevent these ravages from happening. Do not do what is lawful, not what is justice, but what is right." Roen found herself shaking, her hands gripping the edge of the wooden railing so tight in her silent objection. She could not fathom it then, so many moons ago, killing the man who only wanted to see all the suffering come to an end. But now…now all she could see were the bodies that were left behind in his wake, and visions of more bodies that would litter the streets if he was not stopped. Could I…? Her head shook inadvertently as if already answering herself. And yet, she knew inaction was not a choice she could accept. What is the right thing to do? “Roen?” A familiar voice broke the paladin from her thoughts as footsteps creaked upon the wooden bridge. A sidelong glance revealed two figures approaching her: Kiht, with Osric Melkire in tow.

Roen lives by her ideals and morals. She believes that if she does what is right, she has done what is best. But as her current arc shows, doing what she believes is the right thing has led to many sorrows. I do allow the setting and perhaps other characters with different ideals to Undermine Roen's beliefs and goals. Nero has been her primary foil in the story. And as their conflicts go, there is a Catch-22 to her goals. Can she maintain her virtue while trying to change a system that does not want to be changed? It is a recurring conflict for her in the current arc that one must be sacrificed for the other. And the telling of the story was a cooperative effort, both I and others had a say in the result. It is also my belief is that none of my characters should remain static. That is what RP is all about. How the environment and those around them affect the character's growth and development interest me. I made Roen young (in her twenties) for a reason. She has yet to learn some of the harsh lessons in life, even though she is not entirely naive nor ignorant. The plots she has been involved in has challenged her beliefs, whether it be in others, in herself, or in the world. How she comes away from those challenges is her journey.

Having enjoyed this game for over a year, I will join in! Happy birthday, YoshiP! :moogle: If it wasn't for you, I'd be likely be cooking more, getting out more, and spending time with my friends outside of-- ... Hm. Well, Happy Birthday anyways!

Walk up RP is literally a very good way to scope out people's style, flavor, and character It IS! And if that is how people want to go about their research, good on them! It takes a lot of work though! But it could be fun too. This I will not deny.

There has been some great suggestions here on how to initiate walk-up RP. I will confess though, I am in Verad's boat in that if I was looking make some significant connections and or explore in depth RP, I arrange things behind the scenes. I like quality control. I like scoping out people's styles and the flavor of their character by reading their IC posts, OOC posts, and wikis. Then if I think we might gel or there are storyline hooks we might be able to play off of, I send a PM. It's worked out for me fairly well so far. (Although there are plenty of folks I wanna send PMs off to but I haven't come up with any hooks...) But I am not ruling out walk-up RPs by any means! Two very significant relationships for Roen have happened through walk-up RP. One of them was at Grindstone and another at Quicksand. Two characters that didn't know each other just started to talk to each other for one reason or another. One of those relationships is still ongoing today, and the other only ended because the character died.

Oldboy. Been meaning to, just haven't prepared my head for where I hear it will go.

Welcome fellow AD&D, CoH, and WoWer! (you have far more experience than me) Balmung is lovely. I am certain you will enjoy your time here. Feel free to say hello if you see me running about!

Aww. Warren beat me to the soundtrack. Welcome to Balmung!

^ This. Couldn't have said it better myself.