Roen

I am in the camp of "I don't regard the level of the character what-so-ever in RP". It is a purely game mechanic for me. Same goes for jobs. There *are* more jobs than just those your characters can take up. My bard is a chocobo trainer IC! And I also know some players who level really slowly because RP is what they enjoy, not leveling, not running dungeons. Roleplay. Am I going to say that they can't play an aged wise powerful mage because they are still level 20? Heck no! I would be depriving myself of some great opportunities to run stories with them. I had my level 50 paladin get badly beaten up by a level 16 Brass Blade. That same Blade most recently beat up a level 50 Bard as well, for a story arc. That Brass Blade is probably never going to see beyond level 30, because he was created to be an NPC (I am looking at you FC!) and the time investment needed to level up someone who would just basically fill roles in a story as needed would be a total waste of their time. And yet to disregard them as lowbies? Some great scenes would have never happened. So yes, I am a firm FIRM believer in that levels should not be taken into account when roleplaying. Let your imagination soar!

What do I do? “Watch ‘im in me place,” Daegsatz’s had asked her. Roen curled her knees tightly to herself, laying her head against them. She was perched upon a large white boulder that sat on the sandy beach of the Mist, the waves washing up quietly against the base of the pale rock. Despite the cool breeze of the early dawn, melancholy made each intake of breath more difficult; even the misty air itself seemed to press down upon her with a crushing weight. She wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the rest of the world. But she could not. She made a promise--a promise to herself, a promise to Daegsatz…and even a promise to Nero. "You and I will become a sword and shield. I will slay those who encroach upon us. You shall defend justice and the innocent. An apt analogy, no?" How had those words come to sound like a distant dream? Did Nero really say them to her? Or did he just offer her what she wanted to hear? Roen refused to believe the latter, or at least she was trying her best not to. But there was a part of her that wanted to scream bitterly at herself for believing in the man. You are naive. Ridiculous. Foolish! That angry voice inside her did not want to relent. But these were not her words. They were his. And it was his voice she heard. “This was always my plan,” his voice echoed in her head, like a hollow metallic ringing of a hammer striking an anvil. Roen had come to the Second Forte to console him, although partly it was for herself as well. Daegsatz had become a friend and confidant in the fortnight she had come to know him. Even though she knew Nero’s loss was so much greater than her own, she had hoped that perhaps they could find some solace in each other. Nero’s reaction had been severe when she had delivered the news that first day. He bid her leave him, and so she abided by his wishes and had left him alone, grief stricken. But when she returned, determined to lend some comfort his way, he greeted her with this grim news--the latest development in his grand plan. Her sympathy drained away as she could do nothing but stand there stunned. Her plea for compassion in remembrance of Daegsatz, it touched him not at all; Nero seemed intent on carrying out his plan. He barely met her gaze, and when he did, it was with the coldness of an icy spear, piercing her clear through. "Daegsatz died believing in your justice. I will not allow that to happen to others. The system is corrupt beyond salvation; to use it is to invite our own destruction." His words…they made her doubt herself. Nero questioned her usefulness, her lack of plan, and her lack of results. He cared naught about her justice, accusing that Daegsatz died believing in its fallacy. And a part of her… She could not argue. The justice system, the due process that she had so fervently petitioned for…it failed her. Nero had offered to put his plan on hold, to allow her justice a chance to work, but now with his First Mate’s wrongful execution, he was not willing to wait any longer. He had put it into effect with deadly precision and haste. Families killed. Would she do nothing? Was this the only way? Was the path of righteous and just truly ineffective? "You want to help me change Ul'dah your way," he had snapped at her. "That's all I was to you, wasn't it? You didn't know how to change it. You had no plan. You still don't. You don't know how to make the nobles bend to your will. You don't know how to weaken the Monetarists enough for the Sultana to take power. You don't know anything that is of use." His words, they cut her like sharp knives. Nero was no longer the man she had raced with, grinning into the wind on the backs of chocobos through the Noscean hills. He was not the man she finally took the initiative to kiss herself, nor the man who held her hand and returned that kiss, many times over. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes, and the warmth of his smile. The fire that now burned was ice; that gaze held no heat, only cold, deadly ambition. Roen had walked out. She knew there were no answers she could give him that would soothe his pain. She failed to give him any comfort. He hungered for revenge, and saw her only as an obstacle in his way. "Ye be takin' care o' Nero's fool arse, aye?" the Roegadyn’s voice rumbled in her memory. "I guarantee 'e be needin' yer compassion far more than me." It made her tremble with sorrow. Nero was lost in his grief and he had thrown himself into his work--his plan. Anything to shove aside the sorrow that ate at his heart--what compassion that was left in him. Roen knew the signs all too well. She had seen it before. Before the Calamity. Was she letting it happen all over again? She had ran away from her father, desperate to look worthy in his eyes. She had joined the Battle at Carteneau, believing that she could do something that he would take notice, to bring him out of his pit of despair. She had been wrong then. Her father had only descended further into his obsessions, one that resulted in the deaths of countless men, women, and children. And now Nero was walking the same path. Despite his assurance that he had looked for a way that involved to the least amount of death as possible, he was still implementing plans that would wipe out families, entire bloodlines. And he was no longer waiting or hesitating. He was burning away his grief with the cold flames of vengeance. "Because you do have compassion. Despite what you have known. The hardships and the darkness that you have seen. It still is in there. Somewhere." Those were her own words given to Nero as they both looked over oceanic horizon in Limsa Lominsa just a few suns before Daegsatz’s death. "I find that...remarkable." A part of her wanted to still believe it was not lost. The paladin released her hold on her legs, straightening. She rose and dusted herself off, her eyes going to the horizon that began to glow gold with the slow arrival of morning. She could not let Nero drown in his grief with the blood of his enemies. “I would not give up on him for anything.” Nero’s own voice echoed in her head, just above the sound of the waves. “I don't think I would forgive myself for giving up on him." He had spoken of his own father, then. It rang so true to her now. I would not forgive myself either, Roen said silently to herself as she slid off the rock, her booted soles sinking into the soft wet sand. I still have not. She squinted at the vast sea that rippled with the light of dawn, as the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. I will not make the same mistake again. She would not see Nero lose himself in his violent plans. She could not. I will save him.

When Roen returned to the Second Forte, the pirate captain she found working at his desk was not the grieving man she had left behind three suns ago. He looked haggard, his eyes sunken, as if he had not slept in days. He was hunched over the table as he wrote rapidly in large block letters on a piece of parchment. The desk was strewn with maps and books. He did not sit; there was a restlessness about him even in his wearied state. He did not look up at her when she entered his cabin. “Was there something you needed?” He continued to write, finishing the last bit with what seemed an angry flourish. He folded the parchment and sealed it with wax. "I have some of Daegsatz's effects," she said, "from the gaols. Ser Jojon had collected and saved them for me." Her own voice was soft, her eyes intently regarding him. "I thought you should have them." Nero gave a wave. "Physical mementos of him are…plentiful. And I have my memories. I believe you should keep them; you did keep him company in the gaols, after all." He still did not meet her gaze, and his tone was almost nonchalant in its dismissal as he set to writing another letter. Roen nodded, noting his distance. "How are you..?" "Well enough." He finished the second letter, folded it into an envelope, and sealed it before stepping past her and opening the doors to his cabin. Not once did his glance flicker in her direction. "Kendrick," he called out. From the top of the stairs leading to the deck, a boy in his mid-teens scampered down. Nero held out the letters to him, which were promptly taken. Nero closed the door again, stepping back to stand behind his desk, attention now turned to the various maps on his desk as he took one of the books and began to flip through the age-browned pages. It was as if she was not even here. "Nero..." she broke the silence gently. "I know you must be angry. Is there anything I can do for you?" "Anything you could do for me, you will not do," Nero said matter-of-factly. "So no." Roen stiffened. "Tell me. Tell me how I can help you." Nero sighed, frowning as he rubbed his forehead. "The question is not what I want you to do. The question is what are you willing to do? If you truly want to help, then when your Sultansworn friends pursue me--and they inevitably will--simply remove them from the city. Chase them out. Make their superiors recall them. Or kill them for all I care. Just keep them from interfering." His tone was cold, and his eyes continued to scan the maps. After a moment he added, softer, "If you do not take care of them, I will, and trust that I will not be nearly as kind to them." She felt her throat tightening. "They are here already. Natalie has already inquired within the Maelstrom and Yellowjackets about you." Nero paused in his turning of the pages but did not look up. "How long have they been here." It was more a demand than a question. "A few suns.I am not sure when Natalie arrived. Ser Crofte followed as well, but of her own accord, trying to stop Natalie. Natalie is looking into the raids against the Syndicate ships. She has been pointed your way. I know that she has contacted the authorities here." Nero's brow creased somewhat but he only continued to flip through the pages of the book. "Let me make myself clear, Roen." He still did not glance at her. "I sent two letters, just now. The first letter was to Zazarano Yoyorano, a minor Ul'dahn nobleman with a growing stake in the Amajina and Sons Mineral Concern. He also possesses tariff rights to several overland trade routes from Thanalan to Mor Dhona. He is not Syndicate material, but is influential enough to make himself a relatively valuable asset." "I do not--" Roen began. "My letter stated that Sebastian Redgrave was more than happy to accept a very sizeable share in controlling those tariffs, and that Sebastian was very glad to see that Lord Yoyorano was capable of seeing reason in the end. The second letter was to be distributed to the Thousand Suns bandit gang to raid his palatial estate in Eastern Thanalan and leave none alive, and that payment has already been sent in advance. The instant that letter left my hands, every living being directly sharing in Zazarano Yoyorano's bloodline died." His words were clipped, his tone cutting as a freshly-sharpened blade. "You see, Sebastian had already arranged for Yoyorano's distant family to meet for a gala with only a token force of Brass Blades. When he receives my first letter, there will be no one left alive who can make a direct claim to his inheritance." Roen blinked, the blood draining from her face. Nero finally glanced up at her, his gaze steely and cold. There was no fire, no flame; only silent ambition. "Get rid of them," he repeated. "You…you are going to kill his entire bloodline for--for trade routes?" She shook her head. "Nero…there must be another way to--" She placed both hands on his desk, leaning in to beseech him. "There must be another way." "The machine of Justice serves only those in power. It is slow and cold, and it belongs to whoever holds the reins. It is only the little people, the powerless, the helpless, who suffer at the hands of Justice. The creatures with power slide away from beneath its gaze with naught but a wink and a grin." The mercilessness in his gaze did not waver. "If you want justice, you will have to claw it from them. Make it personal. Decimate them. Send the message. That way, you stand a better chance of being taken seriously, and of being considered dangerous." He looked back down at the map. "I will make it personal," he said, voice steely quiet. "I will force them to pay attention." Roen frowned, shaking her head. "The Sworns already think you dangerous. Now you mean to make enemies of the nobles--all of the Monetarists! To what gain? You are making this personal and are being reckless. Do you mean to put yourself in the line of fire already?" Nero shrugged. "The Sworns may think me dangerous, but I will not be linked to the destruction of the Yoyorano house. Trust me, my dear, I am being far, far more careful this time around. You would be wrong in thinking I will let Ul'dah take anything else from me ever again, let alone my life." His statement was almost metallic, hollow, robbed of life and vigor. Sadness gripped her then, as she noted that emptiness in his voice. "Nero. I know his death...I know it must eat at you." She searched his gaze. "Have you abandoned all hope for what could be?" "This was always my plan," was all he said in answer. Roen bowed her head, her hands curling into fists on the desk. "To kill families? Children? Simply because they share a bloodline to one noble? That was your plan?!" "They had the power to stop it, Roen. They needed only but surrender gracefully to me, and this--none of this--need not have happened. But they valued their gil more than they valued their families. They valued their names more than they valued those who would carry them on through the years. I am not the murderer. I am only the weapon." His eyes narrowed. "Natalie Mcbeef did not kill Daegsatz. Ul'dah did. And thus I will take the justice that is due. She was nothing more than a tool. She and I are the same; instruments for things far greater than us.” Roen stared at Nero as he echoed the very words Natalie had spoken to her a mere three suns ago. Were they truly no different? "I asked Daegsatz, Nero, about you. More than once." She hoped that perhaps the memories of someone he loved would reach the smuggler, break through this vengeful mindset. "Daegsatz did not share much. He did not want to break your confidence. He loved you like a son. I cannot believe he would condone you killing families. Children. An entire bloodline." "Daegsatz cannot condone or condemn anything." He stared her down. "He is dead." Nero's tone remained hollow as ever. "He has gone to a place where happiness and sadness, good and evil, justice and injustice…these things do not exist where he is now." "And you are staining his death with more bloodshed," Roen said quietly, her voice tinged with sorrow. "This was always part of my plan, regardless of whether or not Daegsatz died. My memories of him will remain. I will remember the man for how he lived, not how he died--alone, in a gaol, with naught but the stone floor to comfort him," Nero spat bitterly. It was the first flash of emotion he had shown since she had returned. He turned his icy gaze back to her. "Feel free to lecture me on the reform of Ul'dah when you have a better plan, Miss Deneith. When you've accounted for every single variable and accounted for every factor and wild card, when you have made the absolute most precise calculation of how much blood you need to spill. When you have done all of that and formed a plan superior to mine...then you may lecture me." His look was colder than she had ever seen it, as were his words. "But until then, get out. You've no use to me for now." "If those orders have not been carried out yet, I still have time." Roen frowned, indignation rising. Nero rolled his eyes at her. "That was the thirtieth copy I have sent in the past two days. If I believed you to have any chance of interfering, I would not have so brazenly told you what my plans are." Her heart sank. She narrowed her eyes as she stared at the documents on the table. "Then I will have to stop the bandits. Whatever tools you are using to incite violence." She scowled, slamming the palm of her hand against his desk. "Nero, I want to help you change Ul'dah, not stop you!" "You want to help me change Ul'dah your way," he snapped at her. "That's all I was to you, wasn't it? You didn't know how to change it. You had no plan. You still don't. You don't know how to make the nobles bend to your will. You don't know how to weaken the Monetarists enough for the Sultana to take power. You don't know anything that is of use." He took a deep breath. "I have a plan. I am trying to do things with as little casualties as possible. I do not wish death upon anyone. But this is the only way." "I know your way begets more violence,” Roen protested. “The deaths of corrupt nobles and lawmen, yes, that perhaps is needed, but you are talking about killing children." "I don't care if you believe otherwise,” He spat back at her. “I don't care if you think I'm wrong. Show me some results. Show me that there is something ringing in that pretty head of yours besides hollow ideals. You know, they say that evil prevails when good men do nothing. What they ought to say is 'evil prevails.' Period." "I am working with someone within the Immortal Flames and the Brass Blades--” "And how long will that take? What is your plan, Roen Deneith?!" Nero's voice nearly cracked. "You have yet to offer me anything. You sit there on your pillar of self-righteousness and criticize me when you have nothing to show for yourself! Daegsatz died believing in your justice. I will not allow that to happen to others. The system is corrupt beyond salvation. To use it is to invite our own destruction." She shook her head. "They were but a start. I--" "Show me some results, and then--and only then--will I be inclined to entertain your ravings on morality," Nero said coldly. His tone was beyond dismissive now-- it was mocking. "I do not know what results I can show you to convince you," Roen said, voice hoarse. "I want to change things from the inside out. But...it will not bring the results you want. Not quickly." He swept his hand in a gesture toward the door. "Then get rid of the Sworns. Regardless of how you spin it, their presence in this city is dangerous. The Sultana herself will end up answering for their reckless actions. I do not want to see you again until you have something with which to present to me besides another useless tirade on 'the right way'." He gave her one final stare, and then returned to his books and maps. Roen spun on her heel and strode out the door as quickly as she could.

Some pics! (because I promised) I won't be pointing out who is who though, but here are some Balmung people in line. I am the one behind the camera. And some of us at dinner! And I heard that Mr. Face was there as well! Good times! It was nice meeting all of you!

OH. MAH. GAWD. SOOOOOO CUTE!!

The Second Forte’s silhouette stood tall against the stormy skies, its towering masts threatening to pierce the swirling grey clouds above. No sunlight reached the Lominsan coast this midday, as the heavens opened up to release a downpour onto the white stoned city-state below. It was one of those rainstorms that flushed away the rooted grime from the lower streets, the mud and dirt washing out to the sea. No one noticed the woman walking through the empty merchant streets, the vendors and street rats busy scurrying from unprotected streets and piers. Roen approached the docks, her footsteps heavy. Her hair was already plastered onto her face, her shirt soaked through the skin. She had been standing on the cliff overlooking the sea, wondering what she would say. No answers came. She could not fathom what she could say that would ease Nero’s pain. The crew already recognized her as she neared, and pointed out where she would find their captain. Roen found herself avoiding their gazes, unreasonably afraid that if they met her eyes, they too would know the loss they had all had suffered. When she reached the double doors of the captain’s quarters, the paladin found herself frozen, her hand hovering just before it. “I saw you approach the ship,” Nero’s muffled voice came from within. “This cabin has portholes, you know. Come in.” Nero stood in front of his desk, looking over some maps. Roen could barely look at the edge of the desk, dread already gripping around her heart. She frowned as she tried to collect her whirling thoughts; words would not come easily. There was a pause from the smuggler--as if he noted her expression--but he greeted her with a grin anyway, as if to ease the tension. “I do believe I ordered some raptor from the Bismarck. I take it you're not here for that delivery?" His jovial tone only made things worse. She knew she had to say it before she lost the courage to do so. Roen turned to him with haunted eyes. “Nero…” her voice was hoarse. “I…need to tell you something.” She watched as his mirth drained away from his expression. He exhaled, as if to brace himself for bad news. “Speak, then.” Roen closed her hands into tight fists by her side to quell the trembling there. But her voice still shook. "It is about Daegsatz. He..." She closed her eyes, hating the words she was about to say. "...He was executed in the gaols. For the crime of piracy." She wanted to hide, she wanted to be anywhere else but here, but she stood and forced her gaze back onto the pirate. Nero's expression soured, gradually at first. She saw his eyes flit about, as if chasing a million different thoughts. His fingers curled, gripping the table he was leaning on, fingertips white on the rough grain, his breaths coming quicker. His head slowly lowered, his long forelocks falling around his eyes, hiding his expression from her. “I am…so sorry,” she rasped. “I did not know until it was too late. He had already been…” His voice trembled when he finally spoke. “...How did he die? And by who’s hand…?” Each words sounded leaden, almost a struggle for him to speak them. Roen saw his knuckles turning white as his fingers dug into the wooden desk, a few splinters breaking with the effort. Roen swallowed, fighting the constriction in her throat that wanted to rob her of her breath. "Natalie had a signed death warrant. He had confessed and..." She found her own voice faltering. She had to tell him what happened. He deserved at least that much. "...and she questioned him. He did not give her what she wanted to know. So she carried out the execution." "Did he suffer?" His voice was tight, strained, as if it was going to snap like a cable stretched too thin. "Nay." Her answer was immediate."Natalie had two witnesses. They all said it was quick." "Witnesses...." he rasped, his tone distant as if not quite understanding. "A Flame and another Sworn." Roen nodded, sadness fighting with her own lingering bitterness at those words. "...Witnesses..." he echoed. His voice sounded hollow. "A…warrant. From whom? Natalie is…she is a a Sworn. Did the Sultana...? Raubahn?" “From an authority higher than Natalie." "Then..." Nero started to say something, stopped, struggling with each word, as if trying to grasp the truth of what she was telling him. When he finally raised his head, his movements were labored. The eyes that bore into her through his bright orange forelocks were moist and bloodshot. "Tell me, then…where was…where was the trial?" "The warrant. Tell me it was by a court's authority. Tell me that there was justice." His voice grew shakier, fraught with grief and anger. "Tell me…lie to me....tell me that he did not simply…tell me that…" he gasped. "Tell me he did not…die like an animal in a cage…" His words were broken by stuttered breaths. Roen could only stand there. Her body felt emptied, as if all the blood had drained away. The rain that had soaked her to the skin now cloaked her in a cold embrace, though it was not the rain that made her tremble. "I am so sorry, Nero," she whispered, her head bowing. "Tell me!!" He slammed his hands on the table. "Tell me that! Tell me that I was not foolish for…believing..." Her own face twisted with grief but the paladin stood stalk still. She had no more words for him. He rose from the desk. "You…you lied, didn't you..." Nero was in the throes of his grief, his despair fueling his words. "You told me…you said…he'd be freed…why did you lie? Why did you give me hope? Why did you…why...." His words died in a choked whisper. Her hand slipped over her mouth as Roen forced her gaze to rise to meet his. He needed to grieve, perhaps to blame. She blamed herself, she could not turn his away "I am so sorry," was all she could offer. Her eyes were overflowing with tears, spilling her sadness and guilt. He seemed naught to hear anything she had to offer. "I...I should have...no, I...why didn't I...I should...." He was pacing now, like a lost, confused animal, though the desk remained between them. His eyes, once so focused and sharp, they darted helplessly about the room, lost. His words stumbled over each other. Gone was the pirate captain, the sarcastic rogue, the determined smuggler, the fearsome thaumaturge. In its place was now but a boy, looking for answers, for a purpose. "This...this was not your fault,” Roen shook her head. If nothing else, she needed for him to hear that. With an animalistic scream, Nero whipped around and smashed his fist against one of the thick glass portholes. Cracks ran like spiderwebs across it, and blood began to seep from his knuckles. He did not seem to register the pain or the blood or the cracks. With his fist still pressed against the glass, he heaved, his chest rising and falling. "Tell me...tell me...why…why he had to die like that…like -that...." His voice cracked. "Did he…did he not deserve better? Was that his fate, when he was brought into this world? Was...I..." Roen swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "He did not deserve that fate." "Why...why him, why not me? Why was he punished? For my wrongdoings...?" She stepped forward, pressing up against the desk that stood between them."His death was not your fault." She said again, desperately willing for him to hear. "Then who's was it!? Who do I have to kill to...to bring Satz back? If it was not my fault, then...who...I'll... what do I..." The grief in his voice had given way to rage, and fury--not the indignant soul arguing for bettering Ul'dah, but merely a man lost in the throes of his despair. He was staring at the floorboards now, his bloody fist still pressed against the cracks in the glass. His left arm was slack, his knees stiff, his neck hung loose. Tears had begun to trace the scars on his face, dripping forlornly to the floor. Roen had no words to offer. She took a step to close the distance between them. "Leave me," he said hoarsely with his back to her still. "You've…done enough. Leave me." Her hand rose then lowered again. She bowed her head and turned, and slowly walked back out of the cabin. When she crossed the threshold, she saw Garalt, waiting outside the door. The Highlander's stoic face was creased and cracked with sadness, and his burly arms were folded across his chest. "It is true, then," he said softly, his gruff voice full of sorrow. Roen could only nod in response. Garalt merely nodded his head slowly, standing aside to let her pass. "For what it is worth, miss...thank you for trying." A broken gasp escaped just then, the paladin nearly faltered as the Highlander offered even that small bit of kindness. Her vision began to blur as she lowered her head. Anger was easier to take, to accept. She shook her head quickly again and stepped past him, her hand quickly brushing the moisture at her cheeks. "It was not enough." "It usually never is," Garalt said, eyeing the grief-stricken captain in the cabin through the doorway behind her. Roen fought for another breath, trying not to let more tears flow in light of Garalt's sympathy. "Nero is going to need...I knew Daegs loved..." she whispered between gasps. She turned and looked up at Garalt, her eyes imploring. "You will help him...aye?" Garalt patted her shoulder with sympathy. "As best...as I can. But he's lost two of the most important people in his life…any man who's lost that much..." Garalt shook his head with a knowing sadness. "Daeg was a brother to me. But to Nero, he was…his binding element. Daeg kept him together during his hardest times." He paused and regarded her intently. "He may not say it, but I believe he trusts you, at least a bit. It would do good for you to....keep an eye on him as well." The paladin searched the Highlander's expression, as if trying to make sense of his words. She just witnessed firsthand the pain she had brought upon Nero. She could not fathom that he would hold anything but blame for her. And yet... Roen nodded, her gaze drifting downwards. "Aye. Whatever he needs," she whispered. She promised Daegsatz, did she not? She casted a forlorn glance back towards the cabin. Garalt nodded to her. "You should go..." the Highlander said softly, almost guiltily. She nodded, brushing her cheeks again. "Gratitude for your words," she whispered hoarsely, then quickly exited the ship. It was only after she stepped outside into the torrential rain that she let her tears flow freely, wishing the sadness and regret could be washed away out to sea.

"What have you done?!" Roen slammed both her hands on the table, rattling the steaming mug that sat dangerously close to a scattered array of documents. Natalie Mcbeef just looked up at her with cold green eyes, unaffected by the raised tone of the Hyur woman who stood in front of her at the table in Bismarck. The afternoon sea breeze felt especially chilly as it whistled between the two women who once thought of each other as Shield Sisters. “I guess Nero didn't take my advice.” Natalie picked up the mug, setting it atop the pile of documents as to weigh them against the winds. “I asked Nero to cut things off with you and leave the city. That’s all.” "And then you executed his First Mate.” Roen struggled to keep her voice under control. "He was a pirate after all. What did you think would happen?" Natalie shrugged. "Even Nero didn't ask about him. It was cruel to keep him in there anyway.” "Do NOT make light of this, Natalie!!" Roen gave her a look of disbelief, slamming a fist against the table again. A few of the other patrons turned from their conversations at their tables, disapproving glance thrown her way. The paladin cared not. "Roen..." Natalie drummed her fingers on the table, looking at her in an almost amused way."The man was a pirate, a smuggler, and a murderer. Do you deny any of those facts?" "So are half the privateers in Limsa." Roen gritted her teeth. "The only reason Daegsatz was targeted is because his Captain targeted the Monetarists. Tell me that is not true. Tell me that they had nothing to do with his execution." “Ul’dah killed Daegsatz, Roen. I merely swung the blade.” The Sworn rolled her eyes, then rested her gaze back onto the younger woman. "Do you want to know the real reason?" She raised a finger and pointed at her. "You started this Roen. You and your fool’s quest for revenge." When Roen stiffened, Natalie took up her mug and took a sip of the warm drink as if to let her point sink in. “Don't blame me for what happens, when you've stirred up things that should have been left well enough alone." Roen stared at the Sworn, incredulous. "My fault." She paused tilting her head. "Because I sought out the truth?" "Would any of this had happened if you hadn't?" The paladin narrowed her eyes. "I--" She bowed her gaze, looking to her hands that closed into a fist. Natalie had struck close to home. A part of her did blame herself for Daegsatz’ arrest and imprisonment. And she had failed to free him in time. But she was not going to let Natalie shed her own blame in this. “So what. I am supposed to close my eyes? Turn the other way? Ignore everything that feels so wrong just so I keep the status quo?!" For a moment, Natalie looked upon her with a softened gaze and a tired smile."What is the symbol of Ul'dah, who is our patron god? Nald’Thal. Many others have tried to alter the balance of the scale, but the Twins always correct it." “It does not have to be that way. You need not just accept the weight of the suffering as long as it is counterbalanced by prosperity. That is wrong, Natalie." "Well keep going Roen, keep trying,” Natalie shook her head with feigned patience. "Maybe when Nero lies dead we'll talk again, perhaps your viewpoint will have changed.” She paused for an effect, then flicked her glance back at her former apprentice. “Or you could just stop this now..." Roen frowned deeply, locking gaze with the Sworn. "Why are you intent on his life??" "Because of what you're doing. If you touch fire, Roen, don't blame it when you get burned." Natalie leaned back with her best tolerant look on her face, then she suddenly laughed. “But you're never the one who gets burned, are you? So perhaps you'll never learn that lesson." "How could you even say that to me,” Roen growled, “after all you have done.” Natalie’s cold expression did not waver. "Whatever you suffered, you still came out of it with your ideals and you precious virtue unscathed. Some of us were not so fortunate. Some of us had to bend.” Her green eyes narrowed, laced with bitterness. “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. So don’t you dare cast your judgement upon me. I forged those deals because of you, and I am now better and wiser for it. Whereas you? For all that I did, here you are, trying to destroy all that I have worked for.” Roen blinked, staring, eyes wide at Natalie’s sudden vitriol. She was only answered with another slowly curled grin from the Miqo’te--a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Whatever you seek to gain from this, I hope it's worth it." Natalie’s voice returned to its condescending tone. "Because whatever happens, I'm going to ensure you survive it, Roen. Let’s see how much of your virtue stands intact then as you see all the violence you have wrought around you. This is the price for your righteousness.” Roen could only continue to stare. The paladin no longer recognized the woman seated across the table from her. Was this the same person who had taken her in as an apprentice when she had nowhere else to go? The one who had risked her life to save hers, multiple times over? She did not see any hint of compassion in the Miqo’te’s ruthless green gaze. No hint of that laughter they used to share so many moons ago. Nor the warmth the Sworn had shown in her times of distress. "Natalie. Why…?” Roen's voice was a rasp. Her tongue felt like it was coated in sandpaper. The Miqot'e's shrug was careless. "I could ask you the same question." "Because I believe I can make a difference." The paladin straightened, her voice steadying with determination. "Because I believe those I am fighting for deserve someone to try." Natalie let out a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. "Well, do your best Roen. Like I said it's not you that’s getting burned. It’s Nero I want. You just get to watch." Roen narrowed her eyes dangerously. "If you are going after Nero, you will have to go through me." "Ah...heroics." Natalie clucked her tongue then let out a sigh. “This will do you no good. It isn’t just me hunting him. I suspect that Nero is behind more raids on the seas than I can yet prove. And the fact that he’s smuggled drugs and Garlean weaponry into our city-state...I can easily argue that he will do the same to Limsa Lominsa. The Maelstrom and Yellowjackets will, at that point, lend assistance in any way they can.” Roen’s mind began to race. The Sworns were in Limsa to hunt Nero, and they were recruiting the Lominsan law enforcement. This did not bode well for him. “An example must be made.” Natalie broke the silence between them. “Our merchant shipping is not an open target to Limsa. For this alliance to survive there must be an example made if someone goes too far." The Sworn leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Nero will be that example." Roen felt herself grow cold. There would be no reconciliation. Even after Daegsatz’s execution, there had remained some small flame that burned within--a distant glowing ember of hope that Natalie could be turned away from this course set by the Monetarists, or that she might find even a glimpse of remorse in her eyes. It was clear now that those were impossible wishes. Any faith the paladin had hoped to rekindle was now fully extinguished, leaving nothing but a dead grey taste akin to ash in her mouth. Roen shook her head, giving Natalie one last withering look. "I hope you did not put these blinders on just for Ul'dah's sake, Natalie." Natalie answered her with a sharp look of her own. "If I had, Roen, you would have died in that cell." She curled one corner of her lip ironically. “Hmph. Maybe I have learned from my mistakes since.” “So be it,” Roen said softly, and promptly turned and walked away from the Miqo’te Sultansworn. She knew the next time they met it would be as enemies.

Anelia Sadowyn. A Sultansworn who had taken up the mantle of being her mentor when Roen had first come to Ul’dah, along with Erik Mynhier. She was the same woman who accused Erik of practicing the dark arts, then dismissed herself as a mentor only to disappeared for countless moons pursuing her own agenda. When she finally returned, she beheaded a man in cold-blood in front of Roen and Kage, claiming that the man was possessed by a voidsent. Roen stared at the Sultansworn standing in front of her with wariness. Where once she had looked upon her as mentor and trusted friend, she now only saw Anelia as unpredictable and violent. Her eyes narrowed. "I thought to gather some information from you about Lazarus, but apparently if I don't have any leads...then Mcbeef will take the case." Anelia rubbed her forehead, frowning. "Do not try and manipulate me for information on a man that is no longer even here.” Roen glared at the woman. “Nor should he be a concern for the Sworns." She stared off down the street where the Flame had disappeared to. "I will deal with Natalie myself." Anelia sighed. "Very well. Then I will personally gather information myself and apprehend Nero on my own." That made Roen spin back towards the Hyur. “For what?! What has he done that you or Natalie to pursue him?" "Perhaps that is the only way that I can keep Natalie from cutting his throat." “Natalie will do no such thing." Roen gritted her teeth. “He has the Monetarist's attention. So I need to keep him under my watch before they have his head." “You leave him alone, Anelia.” Roen shook her head. “Do not further this corrupted fiasco even more so. Just because he has the eyes of the Monestarists does not mean you need to arrest or pursue the man. That logic is flawed beyond reason. It is what got Daegsatz killed, in a Sworn gaol." She felt heat rising within again even at the mere mention of the Sea Wolf’s name. “You think he is safe under your watch?" "Better with me than Natalie." Roen scowled. “I thought Daegsatz was safe under our watch. I thought he would get the due process. No. You and a Flame that I thought to trust just watched him get executed." "Natalie told me that the man was a criminal sentenced for death, and it is not my business.” Her tone remained calm. “So I did not intervene." "Do not use Natalie for an excuse of your vigilante justice,” Roen spat back at her, her outrage unwavering. “Leave. Nero. Alone." Anelia’s face suddenly contorted with anger without warning, as she yanked off her gauntlet and slapped Roen hard across the face. "You idiot! Look at yourself! You can't even tell who's on who's side! I didn't even know what was going on until now, so I was looking for you so that I could stop Natalie. But how dare you speak to me like that!? I am your friend!" Her head had snapped to the side from the blow, but the paladin stood stalk still. Roen slowly turned back to Anelia, her expression stony. Her cheek burned, but she did not care. "I have no reason to point a sword at you!” Anelia continued to shout, seemingly desperate for the younger woman to understand. “We've been together since you were under Erik's supervision! I care about your safety and your wishes for your friends." Roen just shook her head coldly. "You have not been my friend since you left. Since you accused Erik of whatever you accused him of. Now you return out of nowhere, and you stand witness to a good man's death. And then you ask me for information on another?" She seethed. “And if I do not give that information, you turn the case over to Natalie. Who you just said would go after Nero's life, without any justification. Just as she did Daegsatz. Tell me. Tell me how I am supposed to trust you.” "I did not know that the man was innocent, Roen,” Anelia sighed, remorse finally sagging her shoulders. “I just deferred to Natalie's judgement. I am sorry." "Apologies do not bring him back!!" Roen voice cracked as she shouted at the older Hyur. "...I am sorry." "He..." Roen paused, to stop herself from shaking. She quickly brushed her warm cheek with her hand. “I am done talking to you. I am going to go fine Natalie and settle this." “Even though it is too late to save a good man, I have a chance to stop this from spilling more blood,” Anelia pleaded. "I am not turning over Nero. Nor am I sharing anything about him. Stop asking me,” Roen growled through gritted teeth. Anelia inhaled deeply, her head bent. “If that's the case, you'd be making yourself an accomplice to him. Are you going that far for this man? Whatever the reports Natalie has against him has stronger favor, Roen. The next accomplice after that executed man is you.” The Sworn’s threats did not register. Roen simply could not fathom any more violence being visited upon people she cared for. She stood rigid. “I will not help you find Nero. He will not be brought back to the gaols like Daegsatz was.” “It doesn't matter. You don't want to cooperate with my offer to help you, then that is your choice. But, I can't stop Natalie either without any vital evidence. You can seek for me if you need help." Anelia sounded defeated as she turned away from her. “Take care, Roen." Roen stood in the middle of the thoroughfare as Anelia walked away. The rest of the throng of Ul’dahns carried on about their day, as if nothing was amiss. A few gave the paladin a passing look, for Roen had not bothered to keep her words quiet nor calm. But she did not care. The fury within her still burned. She could not even fathom the thought of bringing this news to Nero. For her to think of him now…it would break whatever control she had managed to regain after the gaols. She could not face him. Not yet. No. She would find Natalie first.

*hugs a bomb kitty*

Whaaaaat? I really hope there isn't an IC/OOC bleed through. Although IC guilt/anger/blame is healthy for drama (*I* love such things haha), let's not carry that over to the player. The decision to kill a character solely rests on the player of that character who died, in my opinion. No one can kill your character without your permission. Blame need not fall to anyone else.

Kahn'a Od'hilkas and Anelia Sadowyn: An Immortal Flame Lieutenant and a Sultansworn who bore witness to Daegsatz’s execution. Natalie Mcbeef: Roen's former mentor--and the miqo'te woman who wielded the blade that ended the Sea Wolf’s life. Roen had stormed out of the gaols once she had collected herself, armed with the three names given to her by Ser Jojon. Her emotions burned with rage and the pit of her stomach was twisted with indignation. She needed answers. She needed justification. Something. Anything. It was less than half a bell before the Flame Lieutenant answered her call, approaching her with a weary look. "I heard the word, Ser Deneith." He wore a small frown, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere. "How can this one assist you?" Roen had no pleasantries to exchange. Her fists were curled into tight balls by her side, her eyes were blazing. "Ser Od'hilkas," his title was spoken in a clipped tone. "Is it true? Did you witness Daegsatz Traggblansyn’s execution in the gaols?" "Indeed. I had requested to come observe the interrogation, I walked away with a bad taste in my mouth." His expression was distant, with a hint of displeasure at the edge of his lips. He did not seem to note her ire just yet. "What were the charges? Was there a trial?" The paladin seethed, just barely keeping control of her voice. "Tell me there was a trial. Tell me there was just cause.” Roen tightened her fists even more to keep herself from shaking. "Tell me something because you were there, and you stood witness to a good man's death." Kahn’a sighed, avoiding her gaze. "Smuggling, murder...I don't remember it all, but 'tis what she called upon to prove the rightness of her action." "Natalie." She spat the name out like it was poison. "Natalie had the charges?" "So she did. I had half a mind to protest, but it wasn't my place to do so. Meddling into the 'sworn affairs was also risky, I couldn't risk further." "You are a Flame!" Her voice rose quickly. "You are to look to the welfare of the people as much as any Sworn! Why did she even…” Roen laid a hand on her forehead, frowning. “When did she start taking it upon herself to execute smugglers? He was no threat to the Sultana!" She turned from him, taking a step away then spinning back back around. “Were there conditions? Anything? Did she just go in and execute him without a word?" The Flame Lieutenant regarded her oddly, a look that held unspoken curiosity. "They talked. She threatened to harm if he showed reluctance to cooperate. She never spoke of execution bef-- before it happened.” “What cooperation?” “She wanted to know where his boat was sailing, his latest quarries. I'm unsure why those activities rose her interest, and she was trying to be thorough. And the Roegadyn tried to say as little as he could." “Whose boats,” Roen said icily. Kahn'a rubbed his forehead in weariness. "I know not. Look, this is probably one of the worst suns to ask me about this. Mind's busy with other matters, and like I said, I was merely observing." "She killed him because he did not give up information on--" Roen began then paused, her brow twitching. "Oh forgive me, ser Od'hilkas. Obviously witnessing an execution must have been a burden for you!” She was unleashing all her vitriol at him, for he was the only one she had found--the only one she could lay the blame on at this moment for not stopping what she herself could not. “I should just go to the source myself,” she stared angrily at nothing in particular. “Except I know the source. I know the violence she is capable of. I now know she has no heart. But I would have hoped that at least others there with her could have tempered it!" Lietenant Od'hilkas looked straight at her, miserable eyes set upon her beset face. "Why is it to me you're asking those questions? Tha-- That woman, she's done things I had headaches trying to understand the reasoning of. Why is it striking such distress into you?" Roen stared at him hard. Kahn'a Od'hilkas, he was the Immortal Flame that Osric had named that could be trusted. He was part of the justice system that she had defended to Nero with fervor. "I am asking you, because you were there. You could have stopped it. You stood witness. I trusted...I trusted someone in our justice system to not see a good man die." "Tell me then, how was I to know that man was good without time granted to open a case on his account? She came with believable claims, and again, I was there to observe." The paladin had no answer. She just wanted this wrong to have never happened. "He did not deserve that fate." "Who did not deserve that fate?" Both Roen and Kahn’a turned to notice the blonde Hyur paladin standing there, just a few fulms away. Anelia Sadowyn regarded them with her usual cool glare. "Ser Sadowyn. Ser Deneith seemed to be informed of the demise the captive met, at Ser Mcbeef's sword,” the Flame Lieutenant answered the woman, his tone dour. “Both of you stood witness as she slit someone's throat without due process,” Roen growled at both of them. “This. This is why I will not return to the Order." "I was just an observer, but I have written full reports about Ser Mcbeef's actions,” Anelia said matter-of-factly, no regret evident in her visage. “However, I also am taking up the case of Nero Lazarus while Mcbeef is chasing it too." Roen’s eyes narrowed. She did not bother to correct the woman on the name. Why should she? “There is no case.” "...Roen, the man is a smuggler." "Why the sudden interest in a merchant from Limsa, smuggler or no? This city is full of smugglers! He is no longer even here! Natalie chased him out with threats of violence!" Her voice quickly rose. "And still she executed his first mate!" Kahn’a frowned deeply then sighed. "Not my affairs, I'm not privy to the reasons that pushed her to do that. I'm not your man for this case, Ser Deneith." "No." Roen’s tone was bitter, flat. Cold. There was only resentment that lingered as she gazed upon the Miqo’te Flame. "I suppose not." The Lieutenant’s own expression became sullen. "When you've settled, Ser Deneith, you know where to find me. Mayhaps we can make some sense out of this,” he said quietly as he walked away. "Roen,” Anelia said cooly, stepping in front of the paladin. “Would you believe me if I am actually trying to stop Natalie?” She paused with a grim set to her brows. “She means to kill Nero."

I have to agree with the rest. Awesome intro. I could have just quoted Osric and said "What he said" but that would inflate his ego so we can't do that. Welcome to Balmung and to RPC! (also I am a little partial to your sig pic () )

((The events of this thread follow the story arc from here and here.)) Jameson Taeros kept his expression neutral; one would never know, simply by looking at him, the displeasure he held behind his slight smile. His eyes went lazily from his sleeves, where he scanned absently for dust on his pristine white doublet, back to the two Brass Blades standing across the desk in front of him. They shifted their stances often, their anxiety making them fidget. "So tell me again, why you did not bring this to my attention earlier," Jameson said slowly. He still smiled, but his words held a vexed edge to them. The Midlander Blade named Raffe swallowed and looked askance at the Highlander next to him. When Louvel did not catch his pointed look, Raffe sighed, shoulder sagging. "Well, Mister Taeros..." He cleared his throat. "It was just a confiscated wagon that was taken. I mean, it was to an ex-Blade after all, so we didn't really think it was anything worth...reporting." "And the affair at the mines? You recall it. It involved missing supplies, dead bandits, and one of your own compatriots," Jameson added with a barely patient drawl. The Highlander cleared his throat and spoke. "Well, ser. We took care o’ the Flame Inspector that came by, and he agreed not to report anythin’...so we...uh, we thought that was taken care of." Jameson slowly arched a brow. "A Flame Inspector." Raffe shot the Highlander a glare then straightened. “Aye, ser. He asked about what happened, and once we told him Deneith’s name, he just left us be.” “He did leave rather quickly after learning her name. I thought she’d be arrested by now,” Louvel shrugged. Jameson narrowed his eyes. “What did he look like?” As both Raffe and Louvel began to describe this Immortal Flame Inspector, the noble tapped his gloved finger against his arm. A Midlander male with a well-trimmed beard and a scar over one eye…who happened to recognize Deneith’s name. Jameson could count on one hand the possible number of suspects that it could have been. Actually, he only needed one finger. Melkire never did know when to back off. He narrowed his eyes, recalling that the investigation into Ser Besten’s murder never got as far as he had hoped. The Flame Sergeant was still meddling into affairs he should not be. Jameson waved the rest of the explanation off, dismissing the two Blades. He glanced with a nod to the man standing by the door, who then beckoned a raven-haired Highlander woman to enter. She was dressed in her usual colorful layers; billowing sleeves and draped skirts, with anklets and bracelets jingling to herald her arrival. "Miss Callae, I have an assignment for you." The noble did not waste any time, although he did afford her a pleasant smile in greeting. Smiles were important. Brynnalia Callae sauntered up to the desk and hooked one leg onto it, halfway sitting on the edge. She rested her chin on her bare tanned shoulders to smile at him. "What is it?" Her tone always carried with it some suggestion of challenge, or even playfulness. It was like a constant quiet melody around the woman, either intended to ease or arouse others' attention. Jameson always made note of it. "I need you to return to Limsa Lominsa. You have a history of service with the Maelstrom, yes?" Taeros leaned back on his chair, lacing his gloved fingers together on his lap. The Highlander woman arched a slender brow. "Aye. Why am I returnin' tae the coast? Ye tired o' me already?" Her smirk remained as she leaned closer to him teasingly. "Not at all, dear," he curled his lips cordially. "I am getting you a promotion, as matter of fact. You are going to become an officer." Brynnalia canted her head and answered him with a saucy grin. "I always did look good in red." "You will look ravishing, I am certain. And the rank will afford you resources to look into some rumors of piracy. I need a man found. Nero Lazarov." "I'll have tae dig up my contacts, I've not been back in over a cycle." "You will not be working alone. Matter of fact, you will be assisting dear Natalie, Ser Mcbeef of the Sultansworn. She is heading up the efforts. She will be recruiting other Maelstorm agents, I am certain." "A Sultansworn? And more Maelstorm? Just tae find one man?" Her green eyes narrowed; the bard was truly curious now, her flirtatiousness faded as swiftly as the wind changed. Jameson inhaled, letting a pause fall between them. "He is one troublesome pirate, to me and to my employers. Therefore to all of Ul'dah." The noble arched a brow in answer to the look of disinterest on the Highlander. She cared not for politics or even the welfare of the Jewel. He gestured vaguely into the air. "I want him found, that is all you need to know. I intend to call upon some old acquaintances as well. I hope you do not mind working with Miss Grimsong again." The woman flicked a hard look at him. Her easy smile had faded completely. "We never worked together, she and I." The noble nodded ever so patiently. The topic of her past with the Resistance was still hot rod he could prod her with every now and then. "I am certain both of you will do your best to remain of the utmost professional toward each other," Jameson drawled. Brynnalia shrugged and looked elsewhere almost as if bored. The woman was never cowed by him. "Anythin' else I should know?" she asked tersely. "Yes. You will likely be working with Ser Crofte as well. She and Natalie are close." That brought the woman's attention back to him. "Crofte? Ye courtin' all the Sworns now?" She almost sounded impressed. Jameson did not bother to answer that. "I know you know her well enough. I am certain she will not like a few of my plans, but she will comply with what needs to be done, in the end. If it is for the best of Ul'dah." "Oich," Brynn snorted, rolling her eyes. "Iffin' ye wish. If bringin' one pirate down be so important, why not just get the Flames on it?" "Because they are short sighted. They do not see Lazarov coming. They care for the safety of the Jewel, not for her prosperity. That is where I come in, my dear. My employers and I, we like to ensure that the gil continues to flow, and in an inwardly manner. This pirate wants to choke off our imports through the seas. That will not do." His eyes locked on the Highlander, sudden intensity in his amber gaze. "I intend to do whatever is necessarily to ensure the end of his interference." Callae met his gaze soberly for a moment before lifting another smirk. "Ye be the boss." She slid off the desk, standing to straighten the ruffle of her fabrics. "Anythin' else?" "Tread carefully in Limsa. Merlwyb does not tolerate violation of her rule. We will need to find Lazarov quietly without undue escalation of these matters." "And if he does escalate things?" Brynn arched a brow. "It could be war." Jameson said simply, the words hanging heavily in the air. It was a breath's pause before Brynnalia broke the tension again with a dismissive click of her tongue. "Oich. I've seen war on me homeland. I ain't a stranger tae it. But it don' mean I welcome it either." She splayed out her fingers, as if to examine her nails. "I prefer the easy life." She turned for the door, then glanced halfway over her shoulder to the noble. "I guess we better find this Lazarov then, before he be bringin' a storm down upon us."

Shearing grass?

Tiergan! Please add me onto your waitlist again!

Roen held the small vial up to the candlelight. The white liquid within was opaque and it left a light coating on the glass as she tilted it slightly this way and that. "Milkweed milk. Packed in crates of grain - I know not the purpose of the grain, feed for all I know." Verad Bellveil had given her the small vial a few suns ago, after his raid on the second warehouse. He had found the illegal drug hidden within the crates, along with some Ishgardian luxuries and Dravanian relics, according to the duskwight merchant. "And...Sergeant Melkire was there as well?" "Gift-wrapped and hand-delivered to the man. A false alarm regarding a fire in the warehouse attracted his attention." Roen set the vial back down onto the desk, her eyes going to the central marketplace of the Silver Bazaar. Her rented room was small, but the window that looked out over the courtyard lent the illusion of airiness. Cool desert night winds wafted through the thin curtains that billowed with their caress. The paladin leaned back in her chair, releasing a long sigh as she looked up at the full moon shining above. How long had she been staying out of Ul’dah now? Ser Crofte had warned her of Natalie’s intentions, but to draw the attention away from Nero’s efforts in Limsa Lominsa, Roen had returned to Thanalan and made herself known once more in the Jewel. Now the trick was to be known to be in the desert...and to do it without being caught. ‘An accomplice to a criminal and self-avowed privateer, which in any tongue means pirate,’ Natalie would reason for her arrest. Roen still scowled when she thought of their conversation at the Bismarck. With a sharp inhale and a shake of her head, the paladin dismissed those memories, pushing off the chair to study the single parchment on the table again: the list of the warehouses that belonged to Jameson Taeros. She had procured this list from Broken Nose, who had produced it simply by way of knowing which Blades worked in their off time for the Monetarist noble--as well as where they pulled their guard duty. He listed three of the most well-guarded warehouses and had given it to Roen, who in turn had given a copy to the duskwight merchant of dubious goods. Apprehension stirred within her chest whenever she thought of Mister Bellveil’s involvement in the Monetarist affairs. Why did she ask him? Was it not enough that he had helped her since that fateful rainy day in Limsa Lominsa? She remembered how lost she had felt then, having been brought to La Noscea by Gharen after being rescued from Itar’s clutches. The distant memories of the emptiness she had carried brought a lingering ache to her chest even now, moons past. The eccentric duskwight--with his bombastic jokes and strange fascination with all things considered worthless--had somehow coaxed her out of her darkness. His unconventional ways had often caught her off-guard; his offering of wisdom hidden within his facetious mannerisms then held her attention. She had not known then that he had lent her a rope to draw her out of the mire of hopelessness; in trying to understand his oddities, she had grasped onto it and slowly pulled herself out. Roen wondered if she had thanked Mister Bellveil for it, along with the many others who had helped her back then. Now she had a new purpose. She was standing up against the Monetarists, targeting one in particular. Jameson Taeros had many connections and many powerful friends, and was now even using Natalie to do his bidding: executing Daegsatz, hunting Nero, and even pursuing her to get to the pirate. All the while, Taeros strolled through the streets of Ul’dah, carrying about his business, spreading wealth and influence to those who already had it in bounty, and bleeding it from those who had none. Would this help Nero’s efforts to choke off the wealth to the Monetarists? Jameson Taeros was but one of many corrupted and greedy nobles of Ul’dah. But Taeros was the one orchestrating the forces that were hunting Nero. Roen was convinced that he was the one who somehow convinced Natalie to execute Nero’s First Mate. The paladin hoped that if she could turn the focus back onto Taeros in his own home, that perhaps some attention can be taken off of Nero and brought back to Thanalan. So that Nero can do what he must do, and Roen could ensure some measure of safety and freedom for the pirate. But at what expense? Was she putting someone like Mister Bellveil at risk? She was already asking for aid from those she should not have--those who had no stake in this. Mister Bellveil, Mister North, even Shaelen. But she did ask them and it weighed on her even now, to contemplate putting certain people at risk, although some were more capable than others. She had tried to talk the merchant out of his plans to continue to look into Taeros’ warehouse; poking at the beehive enough times, one was bound to get stung. But Mister Bellveil refused. She had asked him why he was so adamant about helping her. "There needs to be at least one person - just one - in your life, who you can trust. Someone you can implicitly know will not betray you, will aid you where possible. I remember you speaking about your betrayal. And, in that, I thought, 'At least one fixed point in the aether. That's all. Just something she can rely on when she needs it'." His earnest words had made her speechless. "And that's...fine. It is. It was. When all I could do was talk, and lift your spirits, I was happy for it. There's nothing wrong with that and if I did not know certain things thanks to the Grindstone, well - that is what I would continue to do. But there's more I can do, now. We know this. There may be even more I can do in the future. Knowing that, it behooves me to try." Roen could do naught but peer up at the duskwight then, openly shocked, and touched by his sincerity and compassion. "But - the way I see it, I am on the periphery. I'm your ally, not a central figure. I can be the resource that comes through when you need it most." Roen recalled the wide grin that split the merchant’s face. "I can be your very own plot device. And I've never had to sell myself!" He paused dramatically before adding, "Yet." "You are...my own plot device." Roen had replied softly. "You see? You just get in a pinch, and think, 'But of course! We can call upon Verad!' And I'll be sure to arrive at a dramatically appropriate time and do something critical." Roen found herself staring back out into the night, looking out over the Silver Bazaar. Despite the worries she had for his safety, she could not deny the twinkle in his eye when he spoke of the fun he had in outwitting and outrunning his enemies, and the comfort she took in the friendship Mister Bellveil had offered. She could not deny her fondness for the man, and how she craved his wisdom whenever she felt lost or conflicted. She almost wished she was raised to believe in the gods, for she would say a prayer for his safety, and the safety of all she cared for. As she stood and blew out the candle on the desk, she recalled the last of the words they exchanged. "So! There you have it. You will not break from your ideals. Ideals I find noble. Ideals that the world will try to break. Why should you not have a fixed point?" She remembered smiling, finally. "I would have no other, Mister Bellveil."

You guys are a little disgusting. <3 Jara and Chuch

^ THIS! And also a very very good series.

Heh... IF you are talking about the scene with Verad and the Brass Blade/Captain last night... wrong FC! There are two NPC FCs (YAY for both! I support players supporting scenes with NPCs)... The one you ran into last night is not this one though. They have not posted on the RPC forums. >_> I can let them know though... If it was another scene, then ignore my post! You are in the right place Tiergan!

Three Highlanders... in a row... Yes please.

You look GOOD Ossy.

Very nice, Anelia!

Because Verad EXPLICITLY TOLD ME NOT TO... I am shipping Verad X Aya!! They went out to dinner at The Bismarck! Let's see if they too go down in a ball of flame as Verad predicted. And no, I do not think this thread is cursed.

Ricotta lemon pancakes. Looks ordinary on the outside, just another pile of pancakes, but ooh so much delicate texture and lightness on the inside. With sweet cream that can accompany it. With a cup of warm expresso on the side. It lifts me up!

So many Burn Notice references... I wonder if there is a Michael Westen out there somewhere...