Roen

GUH. I have mats I can donate too. For anyone. Not just for my character. Send me a list too? If I have them I will send them.

Oil wrestling... egads... ....Brynnalia might have to show up... (cursed GMT time though! I will try...)

I am a crappy crafter, and grinding for alts gear makes my eyes bleed, but I want Brynn to have nice things too! :cry: She's been on the RP scene more lately... She's my alt, so I will throw her in here if you are considering alts. She's a bard. And if this is all IC, Ilwe'ran should be ready to get flirted with endlessly since she does that. I'd totally support mains getting it though over alts. And a very thoughtful gesture, Ilwe'ran.

Berrod. Sounsyy. Zhavi. I should actually stop putzing around and go actively stalk them.

AAAH! Memories! That was Gharen's lance pointed at poor Kage's back too... Kage caption(?): "Ah crap." Now? Well... heh. No Sworn in that picture is still a Sworn. Good times.

"Roen? Are you there?" When Coatleque’s voice came through on sergeant Melkire's linkpearl, it gave Roen pause. After their last conversation, where they had parted ways knowing each supported two opposing sides, she had not expected to hear from the Sultansworn again. So it was with a measure of wariness that she answered. "Ser Crofte." "Roen. I am glad to hear you are still safe. I must needs have words with you, in private. It is about Taeros." "Still safe?” That only served to alarm her further, and yet Coatleque was reaching out to her. Perhaps this was a warning. There was something else in her voice. “...Are you alright?" "Yes, I am fine. For now. I... wish I could explain but I do not trust any linkpearls. Can...can we meet?" "Did he--” Sudden anger fueled the paladin’s words. She remembered the bruises on the Sworn’s neck, and the look of fear that was in Coatleque’s green eyes when she confided in Roen what had happened between her and Taeros. “Alright. Aye. We should talk in person. I…I cannot at this moment. But I can arrange to meet you. In three suns? Will you be alright till then?" "...Three suns. Aye, I will be alright. What port are you nearest to? Thanalan may not be safe...I had thought the lighthouse where we met before." "Aye. I remember the Lighthouse. I can be there." There was something off about the woman’s tone, her voice. Perhaps her friend was in danger, despite what Roen had told herself all this time about the Sworn’s strength and capabilities. "Coatleque. Stay safe." "Safe...yes." She sounded strained; of that Roen was certain. "At the Lighthouse. That was where you first trusted me with the evidence to clear your name. I think...it will be fitting. Please, be careful." Fitting? Even those words were not quite right. That exchange had not been at the Lighthouse. The evidence was given to Coatleque by Hornet. Perhaps she should have seen the warning signs. But the paladin let her worries for her friend push all other questions away. She would find out soon enough. "I will see you then." [align=center]~[/align] The dark clouds above scurried along the breadth of the sky, pushed along by the whistling winds that warned of a pending storm. Roen approached the Lighthouse with due caution. Ser Crofte stood there waiting in front of the small cabin nearby, fully armored from head to toe in dark bronze. She was out of her usual Sultansworn regalia and her grim expression mirrored the foreboding skies above. "That is a new look for you,” Roen came to a stop few yalms away from her. "Necessary for La Noscea,” the Sultansworn replied without emotion in her voice, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her arms remained crossed. "Surprised you came." "I did not know that the warehouse affair still hung over your head here." Roen maintained a careful tone, although her eyes narrowed at the woman’s distant demeanor. "I thought you might be in danger from Taeros. You mentioned him." "I did." The paladin shifted uneasily in her stance, her hair being haphazardly tossed to the side as the winds around them grew stronger. "So what is this all about Coatleque? Did he hurt you again?" Ser Crofte shook her head. "My hand has been forced, Roen." "What are you talking about?" "Nero seeks blood. A war perhaps. For the good of all, I cannot allow it." "He..." Roen averted her gaze. "He has given up." She could not keep the shame from her tone nor the disgust from curling her lips. “He is actually no longer interested in saving Ul'dah." "Saving? You think all this is saving Ul'dah? From what exactly?” Before Roen could answer, the cabin door behind the Sultansworn burst open and two mercenaries rushed out, weapons drawn. Seeing that Ser Crofte made no move--she stood still as stone, not reacting at all--Roen’s hand went to her sword. “What is this?!” “Tash, get an arm,” the tall Highlander male said to his female partner as they slipped to either side of Roen, flanking her with a quickness that belied their armored forms. “Questions later.” The mercenary woman grinned with her fists raised, brass knuckles adorning both. “Yer comin’ with us.” Roen glanced to both of them giving them a quick once over, they wore no insignia of the Flames or the Sultansworn order. She squinted against the heavy raindrops that began to fall from the black sky. "I am sorry, Roen...I did not want it to come to this." Ser Crofte said just over the howling winds, her arms still crossed. The larger Highlander male tried to grab an arm just as Crofte spoke, but Roen jerked away from his grip. She turned on instinct, and swung a fist at the woman--one called Tash--who was also stepping in. Tash ducked away from her blow, backing up again. Roen took the opportunity to draw her sword, swinging it in a wide arc just to keep the Highlander male at bay. “Shit! Blade!” The male backed up away from the edge of her sword, but reached for the axe that hung from his back. “Whoa-ho, she feisty, Morn!” Tash side stepped towards Roen’s back. "You really wanna do this, bitch? There three of us an' one of you." “Don't make this get messy. This is a fuckin' arrest,” Morn sneered. Another whisper of sliding steel made Roen shoot a glance at Ser Crofte. The Sworn was drawing her sword as well. "This is an arrest? Are these Sworns? Flames?" Roen shouted to Crofte. The paladin knew that could have lunged at the woman with the brass knuckles, perhaps get in a strike, open a path for a hasty retreat. And yet... If they were Flames or Sworn, if this was an arrest, could she truly cut down enforcers of the law? A part of her knew this day would come someday. What would she do? Hesitation leadened her limbs. “We're mercs," the woman growled. "What, you too good for a bounty? Fuck off, princess. Drop the damn sword." "Roen Deneith, under authority of Her Grace Nanamo Ul'Namo, I hereby place you under arrest for abetting a pirate, murderer, and enemy of Thanalan." Ser Crofte stepped closer to her, her blade in hand. Morn used just that moment to swing his axe in a wide arc, hooking the paladin’s sword. It pulled on her arm for an instant, opening her one side, just before Roen relinquished the hold on her sword. A part of her knew she could not swing it against those upholding the law--even if they were mere bounty-hunters. I brought this bounty on my own head. As soon as she half turned to look to the mercenary’s partner, she saw Tash rushing in--too late, and both the women went tumbling to the ground. Reflexively Roen threw an elbow to the woman’s face. She heard the woman's nose break with an audible pop, but despite the blow, the Highlander woman was working to pin the paladin down. Morn slapped his steel-shod boot down on Roen’s sword hand--and the paladin gasped in pain as she heard a crack of bone. The paladin struck the woman on top of her with the flat of her other palm, but before she could try and get Tash off her torso, Morn’s axe swung down again and stopped just with its edge against her throat. "Submit, bitch!" Roen stopped all movement, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Tash, ignoring the blood flowing from her nose, pinned her other hand to the muddied ground. Once she stopped struggling, Morn wrenched both her arms behind her back and hauled her up back to her feet, dragging her bodily into the cabin they had rushed out of. Once inside, the Highalander male slammed her back to the ground, the impact jarring her senses. He immobilized her with his full weight on her back awhile searching her thoroughly. Tash yanked off her coat, and then her boots, patting and shaking them down for weapons before tossing them to the side. Morn pulled off her belt and pouches, then plucked out a pearl from her ear. The mercenaries knew what to look for. Roen did not feel the wet touch of the cold stone against her stinging cheek as she glared up at Crofte. The Sultansworn was looking at anything but her. "I trusted you," Roen rasped, voice shaking. "I thought you were in danger." Crofte did not answer, nor did she meet her gaze. The only answer the paladin got was a painful twist of her arms by the Highlander on top of her. “Here are your crystals,” the Sworn said in a neutral tone, handing small aetheryte crystals to the two mercenaries. "They take you back to Ul'dah. From there you know where to deliver her for your pay." “Deliver me…” the paladin’s eyes widened. “You are bringing me to…Taeros?!” She began to struggle against the firm hold. “This is not even an arrest! Coatleque, do not do thi--” The rest of her words were choked off when Tash stuffed wad of bandages into her mouth then tied it shut with another long piece of cloth. Panic began to rise within her, a flash flood of dread. Roen felt her arms being wrenched tightly behind her, and felt the all-too familiar sensation of bindings constricted around her wrist then arms. The fear twisted in her stomach. No...! She thrashed and let out another muffled cry before a full helm was placed over her head and everything turned to darkness.

Wow. Berrod and I can be TV buddies. These two shows are all I am keeping up with right now. Shows that I will jump on when they return: Game of Thrones Mad Men Shows I mean to catch up to eventually: Supernatural Final season of Sons of Anarchy Justfied (WHEN is this show coming back already, I miss Raylan Givens) Vikings Downton Abbey

I won't say how happy I was to have her story arc lead her to hide out and work out of Limsa Lominsa for a bit, joining a Free Company that loosely cooperates with Maelstrom, so I can wear that coat. ....Okay I just said it.

Roen crouched over the edge of the precipice overlooking the town of Drybone. She pinched up a bit of the dry dirt and rubbed it absently between the pads of her fingers as she looked down to the well that stood near the vendor stalls below. It was easily a hundred-fulm drop, if not more. A fall from this height would be a fatal one. Gideon North would not have survived it. She had overheard the report given by one of the Brass Blades in the area on the sand pearl, of a tall burly Hyur who had assaulted a man on the road, wrestling him from his mount and attempting to bodily throw him over the cliff down to the bottom of Drybone. When the victim was identified as the personal valet of Jameson Taeros, she knew it could be no other. Luckily he was able to fend off the assailant, and the attacker then ran off when authorities were alerted below. The paladin had gone immediately to the infirmary at Drybone to make certain with her own eyes that Gideon was safe and alive. He had suffered a broken rib along with a few other minor wounds, and upon the healers’ insistence at the infirmary, he was made to convalesce there for a few suns. At least the rest was something that would benefit the ever diligent butler, Roen thought. As she looked over the canvassed vendor tents below, a part of her wondered if this particular bandit attack had anything to do with what Nero and Osric had set in motion. The Flame sergeant had vaguely insinuated that he had promised to do something for the smuggler in exchange for a favor, and it likely involved violence directed at Taeros. She tried to warn Coatleque of this, but despite the fact that the Sworn herself had suffered Taeros’ wrath--as evidenced by the bruise marks upon her neck--Ser Crofte seemed determined to continue to protect the noble. Coatleque, Gideon, and Delial…they were all people that Roen had relied on to stay near Taeros, to distract him, spy on him, and thwart him if possible. But now, as shadowed daggers seemed to turn their points towards the Monetarist noble, the paladin feared that those allies that she had placed near him might suffer collateral damage. And even Taeros himself, Roen had never sought an outright assassination of the man. She wanted to use his power and his reputation to throw the Monetarist alliances into disarray. A long sigh escaped her lips as the desert wind sent a dried leaf tumbling past her over the bluff. Coatleque stated that she was going to stand by Taeros, and Roen had to remind herself that the woman was a trained Sultansworn. Ser Crofte was quite capable of handling herself, she would be no easy mark. Delial too was skilled at looking out for herself; on more than one occasion, the Highlander woman reminded Roen that she would do whatever it took to preserve herself first and foremost, even if it was to kill Nero if it came down to it. But Gideon North, despite his insistence that he was capable of defending himself, and that after this incident he would no longer be caught so unawares, Roen still feared for his safety. Perhaps it was because he was one of very few confidants that she still had left; the paladin could now count on one hand the number of people she trusted and considered dear friends. Even her relationship with Mister North had seen its own share of trials. But despite one adversity after another, he had refused end their agreement. He insisted on aiding her in however way he could, as long as he was able. The paladin recalled the first time she asked him to leave the noble’s service. It was after Mister Bellveil had been viciously attacked, for his involvement in the warehouse raids. She had confessed her guilt over the affair to to Gideon, and asked him to remove himself from Taeros’ house, for the fear that same or worse fate may fall upon him. That was one of the first lectures that Gideon had give her in response. A calm and succinct observation that this agreement between them was for his own sake as well. He needed to do this to pursue his own goals, in discovering those who had wronged his masters. So when Roen told him the truth about Nero’s involvement in the sinking of the Aerstorn ship off the coast of Limsa, she would have expected that it would have ended their agreement. He was helping her against the Monetarists while she also worked to uncover the mystery of who had killed his previous masters. But even after discovering that the man she loved was responsible for killing the head Aerstorns, Gideon somehow…stayed. While he refused to work for Nero, he still wanted to ensure Roen's safety in these matters and help her in however way he could. The memory of that heated conversation still brought a distant pang of guilt. Just over a fortnight past, she had informed him that Spahro had written up a slanderous article filled with half-truths about Nero, Taeros, Coatleque, and herself, but the butler seemed unfazed. What worried Roen the most about that article was that it did mention an association between herself and Gideon. This would not only jeopardize his career, but likely also endanger his life if Taeros suspected him to be a spy. But the valet calmly reminded the paladin of the obviously false articles written previously by the same reporter, especially the one that painted Ser Crofte in the most unflattering way. He then dismissed any serious consideration to her future writings and accusations. But now this. When Roen found him in Drybone, all she could feel was immense relief that he was safe and sound. Gideon was as composed and unflappable as ever, and from his recounting of the events, the one-man attack seemed to be a random and poorly organized one. It was a clumsy attempt at best, nothing was taken, and Gideon had only suffered minor wounds. The valet was convinced that it could not represent any real attempt against Taeros simply due to its incompetence. This assuaged her fears temporarily, but she could not dismiss the nagging fear in the back of her mind that something else could still be looming on the horizon. But she voiced no such dark thoughts to the butler; he was recovering, after all, and there were ears within the infirmary. Instead, she gave him a warm smile, one that was easy to summon considering the comfort she took in his well-being. He even had a fledgling dodo bird waddling about, a gift given to him by a colleague. He seemed proud and happily distracted by the creature, having even given it the dignified name of “Wilhelm.” So Roen kept the news to herself, that Nero had given up in his quest to save Ul’dah, and that she was now on her own trying to salvage what she could. She was just grateful that Gideon was alright. As the paladin looked to the distant setting sun that colored the Eastern Thanalan sky in bright gold and red hues, she drew out a note from her pocket and read the words again. “Comfort is often hard to come by, especially in dire circumstances, but I recall one particular method you mentioned. Take such moments when available. -G.N.” That note from Mister North had come with a specially packaged delivery of chanterelle saute. Roen still smiled distantly at the memory of the conversation they had shared many moons ago. It was one of many, for she had always found his placid demeanor and apathetic outlook on things objective and refreshing. "It has troubled me that I asked this of you. Actually that I have asked others to help me in this endeavor," she had said to him as they looked over the waterfall in Eastern Thanalan. Her heart had been heavy with worry. “Madam will remember that I, in fact, asked the opportunity of her specifically.” Gideon’s usual serene disposition did not waver. "Aye. Others have volunteered as well. But...it does not put me at ease. This is a risk." “Madam, I am well aware of the danger,” the valet said in his ever calm and unerringly polite tone. “It has already taken from me, and thus replaced, any purpose I had before it. If I die in pursuit of my purpose, that is a loss to nobody. It will be, as they say, a loose end tied up.” Roen frowned. "Surely, it is a loss. To someone." Gideon chuckled quietly. “Madam overestimates the breadth of my social connection. I am a tool to be wielded, madam, and if a tool breaks, then another is easily acquired.” "You are more than that, Mister North. Everyone is." “A severed limb, madam, cannot operate without the body's direction...nor can it develop its own impetus of being.” "Perhaps, if that is all it was.” The paladin shook her head. “There are plants, where you cut it off at the branch, then you give it a vase of water, and it grows its own roots. Its own branches. It just needs a bit of water to give it nurture." The valet brightened at her response. “Ah! Madam is a student of horticulture. A breadth of education is the sign of a rounded, wholesome upbringing.” "You truly do remind me of those I knew in my childhood.” She responded with a growing smile. “Such words were said to me rather sternly. I had not known then, that they were so well learned as you were.” “Suffice it to say the training to become a valet was not altogether pleasant at times. The whimsy of the upper class was imagined to be...broad, bizarre, and requiring the most versatile of minds and skillsets. I can sew, cook, clean, read, and even perform some rudimentary chemistry…” Gideon shook his head, a brief look of exasperation on his face. Roen could not help but be impressed. "Then you are probably one of the most educated person I know in Eorzea." “Madam is pleased to exaggerate” Gideon nodded politely, but nevertheless flickered a tiny smile. "And you are much too modest." Roen chuckled quietly. “If Madam is attempting to fluster me with compliments, she may find I am quite swoon-proof.” Gideon looked away, as if to hide a brief but mischievous smile. The paladin flicked him a sidelong glance, her own lips curling into a lopsided grin. "Hm. Swoon-proof. I have not met such before. Alas Mister North, I will confess. I am rather poor at making people swoon. So take my words as you will. I say it as I see it." “...Madam Deneith.” "Mister North..?" “If you do not find it presumptuous, or forward.” He bowed slightly. “What is madam's favorite food?” "Ah. Um.” Roen blinked, surprised. It was not what she had expected to be asked. “My favorite dish." Amusement lingered on her lips as she tapped a finger against them in thought. "My mother used to make a few things. She loved garlic...and there was this dish she made with mushrooms." Her expression and tone had turned dreamy. "That was a long time ago.” Gideon regarded her in silence for a moment longer. “Very good, madam,” he said finally. "Why do you ask, Mister North?" He answered with a pleasant smile. “Idle conversation, Madam. Think nothing of it.” The dish that was delivered moons later was carefully packaged, and when she opened it, a delectable aroma of mushrooms, butter, and garlic greeted her senses. Gideon had even added some extra spices, ones that reminded her of home. Take such moments, when able… Roen told herself as she folded the note and tucked it back into her pocket. The sun had completely set over the horizon, the dark velvet of night starting to blanket the sky above. Roen rose from her perch overlooking Drybone, taking one last look at the people milling about below. The guards were lighting the lamps, and warm light was starting to filter through the windows from the buildings. Two children darted across the courtyard, joining their parents who were folding up their vendor tents for the night. She would take comfort in such sights this day. Until now, the seeming failure of Nero’s efforts--his abandonment of his cause, and the corruption and suffering that still festered in Ul’dah...they all seemed overwhelming for her to face alone. But at least today, she was heartened to know that one dear friend was spared his life, and there were plenty others who led their lives in peace far from Ul’dah. The paladin glanced up at the stars that were slowly starting to peek through the night sky and watched them slowly glow brighter in the darkness. She stood there for a long moment as if to search them intently, before turning and making her way back to Ul’dah.

Because I am on a Bruno Mars kick lately... This always picks me up on my way to work in the morning. [video=youtube]

“...I would do it.” The wooden door opened with a discordant moan, its hinges having long been neglected, mottled with web and spotted with rust. Quiet footsteps crossed the threshold, leather soles pausing now and then as they came upon one dark stain upon another. The rugs had been discarded along with the furniture, but the walls and the floorboards were still marred with old, dried blood that ran through its stony pores. The wounds had not quite been washed out. “This is not about my conscience. I finally realize that now. If I had to kill and condemn my own soul for others to live in harmony, then...then I would do it. If I knew with absolute certainty that if I were to commit evil to vanquish all other evil, and that it would only end with my own loss of life, then I would do it. My life and my soul, for a chance for everyone else…it is an impossible trade I would gladly make.” Roen knelt on the ground, her finger lightly grazing along the stone floor, tracing a particularly dark blemish. This particular stain was not one of old blood but a burn mark made by gunpowder. She wondered if it was from the Thousand Suns bandit gang, or perhaps a firearm wielded by one of Yoyorano’s guards or family members before they met their bloody end. She could not tell. But as she quietly roamed through the Yoyorano’s deserted estate in Eastern Thanalan, Roen's last exchange with Nero continued to echo through her thoughts. He had not responded or even acknowledged her presence at first when he opened his eyes that next morning. He had just laid there in his bed, staring at the ceiling. In his despondent silence, her voice seemed to almost too loud within the lonely bedroom. “But I know no such impossible trade exists. Else someone else, smarter, braver, and more noble than I would have done it long ago. Else there already would be no evil in this world. Someone would have made that sacrifice.” Roen stood before the fireplace mantle. imagining the family portrait that used to occupy the pale outline on the wall above it. A painting of such size, it would have likely contained the entire family: mother, father, the children, the elders… They were now all dead. “Evil begets more evil.” The palatial estate had been left to ruin, with no other noble family swooping into claim the property following the sudden and bloody deaths of an entire bloodline that used to call it home. Some whispered of a curse, and others of the place being haunted. Even if no one truly believed such tales, none could deny the brutality of the violence committed here, and none were ready to gloss over it just yet. So after the Flames and the Blades had combed through it, it was left abandoned. Why was she here now? Surely any clue that would have been left behind had already been discovered and claimed by the authorities. And yet…this was one of many wrongs that Nero had committed in the name of saving Ul’dah…one that she could not stop, and one that she decided to stand by his side afterwards despite. All because she believed she could save him and Ul’dah. But now... “You wondered once, why we mortals always insist on fighting. I believe it is because we see so much pain all around us. I believe seeing Fiora die, it instilled such rage in you. All the suffering you saw, it made you choose this dark path, despite your better intentions. And now the suffering you cause, I believe will only seed more darkness. No matter what your intentions are, evil will beget more evil. There will be no world without suffering. There will be no peace at the end of that road.” Nero had said nothing back. She had looked to him with some sliver of hope that her words might reach him the morning after, but she was only met with silence. The smuggler was still chained to his grief. But there was one thing that still nagged at her. While he had slept, she had gone through his study. Things were left intact; she didn’t bother breaking into any of his drawers forcibly, but had come across some letters and some notes of his plans. And one particular portion of those notes stated that he was to instigate bandits to “non-lethal” violence to provoke a citizenship response. He was to provide “armaments” and there were also notes of “Brass Blade and Sultansworn recruits.” This particular note had a check mark next to it. It had been dated…fifteen months prior. Before Daegsatz’ death. Back then, he had planned non-lethal methods. Roen closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the dusty mantle and leaned her forehead against it. So many things had gone wrong since. One death had led to many more. She did not know if she could still save Ul’dah. But the bandits were still armed, she had to at least try to find and stop them. She doubted they were still bound by any non-lethal agreement, if such a thing was ever even made. The Thousand Suns bandits were responsible for killing the Yoyorano family and then there were the those who followed Scythe, a bandit leader within the walls of Ul’dah that had the poor believing that he would bring them the next revolution. Roen could not ignore the fact that it was Nero who had hired the former to commit their crimes, and sold firearms to the latter to incite violence. His involvement in this was as bloody as any one of them. “...But what form will my atonement take, if I fail?" Roen shook her head. She did not want to ponder such thoughts, not yet. She had to focus on more immediate threats. Her search for Scythe had so far yielded nothing; the man had toned down his recruitment activities after the violence in Pearl Lane and the subsequent death of his lieutenant, Clauremont Guillford. Over a moon ago, the paladin had tracked down the Elezen’s sister, Clarabelle Guillford, into an Ul’dah brothel, after her brother was found dead in the Blades' gaol. Both the Elezens had given her the impression that they saw Scythe as their light of hope to fight the injustice. Neither were willing to betray the man nor give any more details to the paladin on how to find him. "Let me see if I can dissuade him myself.” Nero had finally acquiesced the next morning, even if barely and begrudgingly so after she pressed him about Scythe. “ A lot of the people under his protection are 'innocents' as well." It was the best she would get out of the once relentless pirate. So Roen left him laying there in his home, and made her way back to Thanalan on her own. There was still much work to be done. Roen gave the grimly dark estate one more cursory glance, as if to scan for that one last clue that happened to be standing in plain sight--something, anything she might have missed...when a sand-colored pearl chimed. When Roen placed it in her ear, her eyes widened at what she heard. Moments later she rushed out, the abandoned building bidding the departing paladin a haunting farewell with a mocking creak, as its doors swung back and forth from its crooked hinges.

This event was great! I am glad I got to attend one finally! I also was not sure about this party thing, but I am glad I was invited to one. I got to meet and interact with a few characters I have never met before. Great job to all those who ran it and helped out. It felt like an intimate gathering.

Dallas Bryce Howard in her younger days. She has the right hair color, eyes, and the youthful look to her face.

Flirting. Roen gets thrown for a loop when people unexpectedly flirt with her. She is used to being serious and down to business, or up front and honest about whatever is being discussed...but bring flirting and teasing into the conversation, she gets awkwardly quiet or tries to divert the conversation towards something else. Lack of a female figure to teach her such art in her formative years left her poorly prepared to respond with confidence in such situations. Also low cut clothing isn't something she is all too comfortable with. Bathing suits are something you'd never find her in, and although she has been talked into wearing looser and more "fashionable" clothing (she took Yellow Moon's fashion advice when she visited the Weaver's Guild after getting out of the gaol in her newly-found-freedom-I-am-feeling-bold mood), a few comments about such clothes being rather revealing kind of had her put those clothes away again. She wonders often how some people are expected to cook or gather things in very very low cut tops and short short skirts. ("Where is the practicality in that...?") She wears loose tunics sometimes in Limsa though, to blend in.

"What do you mean I am not doing anything worthwhile with my life? I am helping peopl-- NO, I have not nor will I go to the middle east to... and no, not Africa either, you know they have ebola.. HEY I still do PLENTY of good around... fine. Nevermind."

I also find it hard to believe that people are actively ignoring you since if people are RPing in a public place, people are USUALLY open to being approached. RPing is interactive! So... this is puzzling to me. I will agree with what people have said so far. AND also that sometimes if it is in a real busy place and the chat is scrolling pretty fast, people can miss things. Even at events. Sometimes especially at events. I know I have missed emotes directed my way in a busy chat room. LOTS. So I recommend sending /tells. Definitely. I also had no idea what the poll was supposed to be about.

Thank you. This gif... made me stare at it and chuckle for good minute. <3

JEEZ EDDA. Why are you not taking commissions?!

Oh cute! I'd like one. If... you can have more than two people on the list...

I posted this on the gallery some time ago but I think it's great to give artists some more exposure! Although I am fairly certain this artist is not short on commissions now from the look of their deviant art page. The artist was super friendly, easy to work with and with reasonable rates. Good turn around time too. Artist name is Jn3 and the commission info can be found here: http://cantkillus.deviantart.com/ As for the art, here you go! It's one of Nero and Roen.

It's been awhile since I posted some story screenshots... "If Gharen can forgive Delial, why would he not be capable of forgiving Nero? I am not saying it will happen, but this will become bad if the two do not come to accept each other. If Nero is indeed a good man, Gharen must be shown that." "We...I...I need more time." "One moon." "But if this article gets printed, some people, well intended people, like Mister North, will not fare well. You will jeopardize his life." "Then hurry. You're not the only one with convictions." "...I promised him something, right before I disappeared. Told him I'd get somethin' done, in exchange for a favor. I'll be gettin' it done soon. Been a cycle. I'm done with the niceties." "Anything I should know?" "...I had a whetstone for that scalpel you sent me." "Perhaps...I was never meant to save Ul'dah. Perhaps this is the conclusion I was meant to arrive at. If I can change nothing...if all that matters is the 'how', the method...then what possible chance could I have...of saving Ul'dah?"

Roen watched as Chachanji fell silent, his violet gaze going distant. It was as if he was seeing right past her to watch some odd scene that was somewhere else, and some other time. His expression turned from one of determination to introspection...the latter then giving way to a myriad of subtle shifts in his mood. She thought she saw a glimpse of fear or even doubt as the apple dropped from his hand, forgotten. But moments later an air of conviction that settled about his young frame; he straightened just a little bit in his seat. She thought she could spy a hint of a newly found confidence behind his eyes. The paladin released a long sigh of relief. A part of her had feared that Chachanji was not read for this road. This weight that would be put upon his shoulders once his has taken up the Oath. She wanted to impart upon him what wisdom she could share, of the harsh lessons she herself had learned since starting this path. But she was still learning herself, and her journey was far from over. She did not know if she was ready for what waited ahead. So how was she to prepare another? In her mind's eye, familiar faces--some she recognized with fondness and others that brought about a twinge of regret--appeared before her, like wisps of memory drifting upon the wind. From her Sworn mentors, Erik, Anelia, and Natalie, to all who have taught her wisdom and strength, such as Gharen, Hornet, and Qaeli, to those who had extended their hands in friendship like Kiht, Osric, Coatleque, and so many others…they were the ones who helped her stand strong when she felt weak, so that she could continue to walk this path. It was they who had helped her rise again when she stumbled. A soft smile rose upon her lips as the memories of them bolstered her courage, hope and faith chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. She could be to Chachanji as all those she remembered were to her: a lifeline when needed, a hand extended to pull her up when she was drowning, a kind word of comfort when she was lost. “Your desire is clear and unwavering, Chachanji.” Roen leaned forward to lay her own unmarked apple upon his lap, its crimson surface shining under the Thanalan sun. “I have all the confidence in the world that no matter what sparked your need to do this in the beginning, in the end, it is who you are that will continue to carry you in this path.” She offered a gentle smile with a tilt of her head. “And should you ever feel lost, alone, or overwhelmed, know that you have friends. You have mentors, like me. You are not alone. No one should do this alone.” If the paladin had anything more to add, it was interrupted by a quark as Goldwind’s head dipped between the mentor and pupil, the chocobo snatching up the half eaten apple that had dropped to the ground. Roen let out a laughing yelp as she raised her hand in front of her face to guard herself against the spray of apple bits, Goldwind unceremoniously crunching down on the fruit just fulms away from their faces. By the time the bird made its sheepish retreat, Roen was wiping away droplets of juice from her forehead, her eyes and expression bright with amusement. She regarded the young Lalafell with a satisfied nod. “I think you will be fine paladin. And you can tell Ser Crofte I said that.”

WHAT the...

This nosy parker person sounds really interesting, m-hm. And I too LOVE the blooper reels. :thumbsup:

Hmmm. Let's see if we can change this... eh? :evil: As for Roen, she is currently protecting a man who has killed innocents. Women and children. This haunts her nightly. She has confessed this guilt to only a few. She has also ran away from battle, leaving quite a few injured behind. She was just a kid then, but she stil harbors guilt over it. This she has not told anyone.