Roen

Clearly. *stares*

So far... The fault has been on the male side for sinking ships. What does that say.

I am sure there must be ONE SHIP that is still afloat... >_> ... Somewhere... <_< Jancis...? Oscare...?

$%&(%$&%*^ I am still working on the first project!!! (Zhavi took a hiatus so I was procrastinating...) I suppose I can eventually post in the What If thread on the Boards. *mutter*

If I felt that my character's story was done, or it has come to a point where death would complete that story, I absolutely would. What I would miss are the connections that the character has made, the relationships, and the memories she has created with other characters. That takes time to nurture! To start over again with a brand new character ... it would mean having to start from scratch all over again, meeting people, forming new friendships. Which could be fun in its own right, but still, death of my character would also mean end to those relationships which for me are just as important as who she is. As for considering death as a possibly to make a RP situation more "realistic" ... I think you can discuss with those involved to still come up with serious realistic consequences other than perma-death to give the story the weight that you want it to have. As for OOC progression? I would just use the transfer/same name character creation/transfer back method to change and fantasia a new toon so I still have a well leveled/geared character I can RP/play with. That doesn't bother me one bit. I do wish though that SE would allow easier way to change names. I would love to just pay a fee for it.

The paladin’s footsteps were heavy as she approached the cell, her shoulders slack and the basket in her hand hanging low in front of her. Her gaze was bowed with troubled thoughts, the events of the day before still weighing heavily on her mind. The deaths of the bandits and the Brass Blade, the heated words exchanged between she and Nero...it all still mired her thoughts in indignation and disquiet. But what her memories always came to linger on, what pitted her insides and churned her stomach, was the tragic tale of the little girl’s death, the one that died with hopes in her heart, her innocent life crushed by the cruelty of Ul’dah. “How do you know such horrors…?” Roen had asked. Nero had given her no answer. Indeed, Nero Lazarov harbored deep wounds, and he had witnessed hardships that most were ignorant of, of this Roen now had no doubt. Such loss would twist anyone’s morals, rob them of their idealism, and skew their view of the world. She was beginning to understand the anger that drove the man. But it only cemented her own belief that she could not stand idly by and watch him throw himself into a darkness of his own making. But she knew not how to go about helping him. As the cell door was opened for her, the sight of the restless Roegadyn laying on the cot pulled her out of her bleak reverie. Roen mustered what cheerful smile she could for the First Mate, despite the heaviness that still pressed against her chest. When the cell door locked behind her, the paladin turned her attention to the basket, busying her hands with its contents as she settled to a seat near the cot on the ground. “I brought you something else to read." She pulled it from the basket. "It is my own copy of the memoir I mentioned before. I could not find Mister Bellveil for another, but since I finished reading mine..." She shrugged. "I thought you could gain some amusement from it.” She lifted her voice as much as she could, consciously trying to remember some of the humorous tales. “And more parchment and ink.” Roen frowned, noting the stack of sketches in the corner. Daegsatz had been diligently drawing to pass the time. How many suns had it been that he has been in the gaols? She had not made any headway in trying to get him freed from the dungeons since Taeros had eluded his arrest. The paladin had pondered on what other avenues she could pursue, but her recent outing with the smuggler had torn her attention away from the Roegadyn’s plight. The paladin bowed her head to hide her shame. “My apologies for…yesterday. It took longer than I thought.” Her words rang hollow, what forced buoyancy that accompanied her sentiments beginning to fade.

Roen pursed her lips to suppress a grin. “I will do what I can,” she said quietly with a nod. “And...as for a dance,” she chuckled as she rose. “Perhaps. It has been many cycles since I took my last lesson.” Roen tried to recall when it was that she danced last. Reminiscence of her younger years did not seem to bring with it a melancholy, as she feared it would. She wondered if it was the honest company she was sharing it with. Daegsatz did not seem to be the kind to pass judgement on people. She glanced at him bent over another parchment and told herself to bring plenty more sheafs of parchment. And ink. It seemed to bring the Roegaydyn a measure of peace, even while jailed. Perhaps on the morrow I could have an exciting tale about how Nero and I retrieved some supplies for the refugees, Roen mused as she signaled for the guard.

Roen cupped her chin with one hand, still leaning against her knee as she examined Daegsatz's fingers. She noted the various calluses to his hands--the hard evidence of working the ropes and up in the riggings, she supposed. Roen grew amazed at the fine coordination it took to create the sketches he had, knowing now it was without any formal lessons. She had his last gifting--the one of an island--still laid out in her room. The paladin made a face when the question turned her way. “Ah. Well…I cannot say my lack of skill in the arts is for lack of trying, at least where my parents were concerned. I never had the patience to sit for too long to learn an instrument or the ways of a brush. Much to the chagrin of my teachers and nannies.” Then as if recalling something, Roen straightened with a bright smile. “But dancing, that I could do. It was like sword play. Coordination of the feet and arms, balance, and spins.” Her voice grew wistful. “And I remember, vaguely, that my mother was a wonderful dancer. So graceful was she. One of my first lessons was from her. I stood on her feet as she held my arms aloft.” Roen fell silent, letting that memory linger in her thoughts for a little longer. She took a sharp breath in when it faded, turning her attention back to Daegsatz. “Is there anything else I can get you? Has your landsickness calmed a bit? I will be seeing your captain again on the morrow, we…may have a full day." Her smile was hopeful. "I will return after, if I can.”

"An example must be made. Our merchant ships are not an open target for Limsa, for this alliance to survive, there must be an example made if someone goes too far. ...Nero is that example."

The paladin nodded, for she had glimpsed that anger; Nero had held it in check throughout their dinner conversation, but it was there, smoldering beneath the surface. She had suspected there was some deep-seeded wound--or many wounds--that festered beneath the surface and fed his pain. But hearing it from Daegsatz’s mouth confounded her less where Nero Lazarov was concerned. Her befuddlement was starting to shift towards sympathy for the smuggler. “Well, there are alternatives. I must believe it to be so. Rampant violence cannot be the only way to affect change.” Roen said quietly, her conviction clear in every word. She leaned forward, elbows against her knees, turning her head to regard the Sea Wolf closely. She offered him a small smile. “I suppose I will have to convince him of that.” She looked the Roegadyn over again with scrutiny, eyeing his complexion, his posture. She set aside all the questions she had about Nero; Roen did not want to continue to prod the First Mate when he seemed so staunchly protective of his captain’s privacy. It only added to her belief that the two were close, that they inspired such loyalty in each other. The paladin eyed the parchment he had put away earlier, leaning to the side as if to get a better look. “I spied your earlier sketch. You are quite skilled. Where did you learn to draw like that?”

The paladin blinked. Not one for arguments? Well he certainly could have fooled me. Roen exhaled, the Roegadyn’s soothing sentiments allowing some composure to return. She pushed off the wall, straightening in her seat. She gave Daegsatz a thoughtful cant of her head. “How to better Ul’dah,” she said simply. “He is bent on violence and bloodshed, claiming them as his only means. Going as far as damning himself to be evil and cruel. He wants to fix Ul’dah so badly that he is willing to destroy it and himself in the process. And in the aftermath of it all..." She scowled. "He will leave it to others to build upon the ruins that he has left in his wake.” Her voice grew sober, her eyes seeking the Sea Wolf’s gaze for some sense of understanding. “And I…believe somewhere inside of him, he does not wish that path. He does not wish to pass that judgement upon himself. That he too can belong in the world he worked so hard to change. That he is a good person. He must be, to want what he wants. I believe people can change things without giving themselves to the darkness. I want him to see that. For himself, and for everyone else.” Roen folded her hands upon her lap, looking at Daegsatz intently. “You have known him for twenty cycles. He is your family. Surely, you can tell me...am I wrong in believing this?”

Roen winced. She really wished she was not so easy to read. No point in trying to hide things now. “He is…absolutely…infuriating.” She groaned. “What did you call him the other day? A massive pain. That would do.” Roen found that once she started, it quickly became easier to just let her annoyance be known. After all, who better to talk about the smuggler than his First Mate? “A roguish pirate chasing skirts. I should know better than to expect anything else.” She slumped down onto the cot, rubbing her face. “Your captain and I are…oil and water. Either we are arguing, or he is just plain trying to fluster me.” She gave Daegsatz an exasperated look. “I do not mind the arguments. I knew he and I saw things fundamentally differently from the start. And oddly enough, perhaps that is what drew me to him. That despite our differences, we still wanted the same thing.” The paladin sighed and leaned back against the wall. Perhaps it was Daegsatz’s forthright nature or his simple but intuitive wisdom that she found in him an easy outlet for the frustrations that had occupied her mind of late. “But why must he always try to have an upper hand in every exchange we have? It is as if he takes unique pleasure in seeing me stammer and falter. That man! He is just so...so...” Roen finally paused in her rant to take a breath, wrinkling her nose. She gave Roegadyn a look of apology at the sudden string of grumblings and grouses. She reminded herself that she was here to make his day better, not fill it with her troubles. She shrugged. “So...how are you?” she finally asked awkwardly.

Roen stared at the empty room. Nothing remained. No boxes nor supplies, no bottle of rum, nothing that would hint that this used to be a safehouse. Everything had been cleared out. Even the windows were boarded up. Did he leave…? It had been suns since she’d seen Nero last, since she ran away from him on the docks of Crescent Cove after he kissed her. Surely that had nothing to do with this, Roen told herself, dismissing the thought as soon as it rose. But then…what? Roen ran her finger over a dresser, and glanced at it. It had not been too long since this place was abandoned. Perhaps just a sun at most. I should have looked for him sooner, came the unbidden thought. But she had been purposefully avoiding doing so, making excuses that they no longer had a private linkpearl, and the fact that she did not know what she would say to him even if she did find him. It was somewhat childish, she knew. But now that she had finally worked up the courage to clear the air... He was nowhere to be found. This safehouse on Pearl Lane was the one place she knew she may be able to find him--or at the very least leave him a message. But all signs of habitation had disappeared from the place. What if he ran into other troubles? It was possible. Since his arrival into Ul’dah, Nero had set up a prominent Monetarist noble to get arrested, and now was also responsible for the death of a Brass Blade, not to mention a veritable plethora of bandits. But after the talk with Sergeant Melkire a few suns ago, Roen thought that both she and Nero were in the clear of the Nanawa Mines investigation, at the very least. For that, she was relieved. In the midst trying to figure out the exact nature of her alliance with the smuggler, the paladin had woefully neglected to follow up on the Mines investigation. "Dead Blade, dead bandits, brought low by someone dangerous. Skilled... and invested. Heavily. Emotionally. I know that y'must've gone up there for something, though I can't fathom what. I know you took your friend.... your thaumaturge friend... with you. I know you left with a wagon full o' somethin' or another, since y'went and humiliated two men t'do so." By the time the Flame Sergeant spoke to her, he had already most of the facts. But he had approached her discreetly, and sought out a private corner at Scorpion Landing to exchange words. Roen had not been alarmed; she still remembered all he had done for her and Gharen, and because of it she trusted the man implicitly. But he gave her a stern warning when she tried to explain what had happened at the Mines. "Witnesses, documents, physical presence....these things constitute proof. And right now, Roen? There's a bloody trail leadin' right back t'you, and the only reason no one but me's followed up on it is because the damned Blades are too lazy and too corrupt t'bother with anythin' but a cover-up." The Sergeant was right. Roen knew she had left bodies behind, and two Brass Blades could put her at the scene. It would be yet another towering pile of evidence that Taeros could use against her if he found out. "... don't hand him evidence he can use against you." Osric warned her. The Sergent had been surprisingly accepting of her actions. He did not condone them, but he was not there to arrest her either. He even offered to help to avoid such an outcome the next time, should she but ask. "Like a scalpel. Not like the dagger your friend is. Ask any chirurgeon which carries the greater risk, and which leaves behind a worse scar." He understood her goal to try and reform the Blades, to try and bring change to Ul’dah. "Do you think me foolish? Do you think this can be done without needless bloodshed?" Roen had asked him in earnest. She needed to know that she was not the only one who thought this way. "To be honest with you? No, I don't think so." Osric paused. “But I hope so.” "It does not mean we cannot try." Even a sliver of optimism from the Flame still bolstered her own. "No, it doesn't." He had answered her with a smile. The Sergeant had promised to help her, if she asked, on the condition that he also met ‘her friend.’ Roen had not given him Nero’s name, but her mind had already been made up--that perhaps both she and Nero could use an ally like Osric Melkire. The Flame Sergeant was always known to do things unconventionally, and as far as she was concerned, his heart was always in the right place. Now all she needed to do was to find Nero. Roen ducked out of the safehouse, her eyes quickly scanning the area to make certain she was not spotted. She left Pearl Lane quickly enough, making her way back toward the gaols. Perhaps Daegsatz would know where she would be able to find his captain. Now that she could not locate the smuggler, the paladin suddenly felt more urgency in needing to find the man, having forgotten why she had been avoiding him in the first place. It truly felt foolish now. Nero had promised to be better. They shook each other’s hand, for the second time, promising to be there to help each other in this impossible task. She could not let her own uneasiness jeopardize that. Not when it seemed evident that they could be gathering allies to their cause. Her stride lengthened as she entered the palace. She needed to find Nero and clear the air, so that they could truly start working together in earnest for Ul’dah.

Why did Roen get mentioned in two people's answers?! She would never... ... actually I could imagine a couple of possibilities but that is NOT what this thread is all about.

Exasperating. That was the word she had picked out early this morn for Nero Lazarov, and after having spent the entirety of a day with him in Stonesthrow, ending with a dinner at Pearl Lane...she could think up a few more. Arrogant. Smug. Infuriating. Roen rattled off these words in her head as she made her way through the corridor leading to Daegsatz’ cell. She at least had the piece of mind to order one more warmwater trout from Soldier’s Club before leaving Pearl Lane. Just because she still harbored ire towards his captain did not mean Daegsatz had to feel the extension of it. As Roen recalled the pitiful expression on the First Mate’s face yesterday, she reminded herself to tuck away her annoyance regarding the pirate captain; Roen did not intend on this visit being anything but pleasant for the prisoner. She was inwardly thankful when she found him sketching again, for it showed he was feeling at least a little better than yesterday. She laid the basket near him, gingerly taking out a lidded bowl. Roen opened it to study the contents within before setting it next to Daegsatz. “Warmwater trout with plenty of salt. Since Mister Lazarov seemed to enjoy it, I thought you might too.” Despite her best efforts, her voice sounded more than a little irked when she said the smuggler’s name.

Roen grimaced, knowing that look and disposition all too well. Unfortunately, this was no disease or wound that she could close with conjury. She leaned away from his waving hand and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I understand. I will leave you be. I hope…you feel better soon.” She rose, retrieving the basket and laying it near the Roegadyn. “I did bring some ginger water. Perhaps that will ease some of the nausea. And some bread. I know that helps me somewhat.” The paladin exhaled, regarding the man with consternation for a moment longer before moving toward the door. She would share the news of his imprisonment another day; Daegsatz needed no more burdens laid on him. Not when he was like this, at any rate.

They believed his story. Roen was still trying to digest the news that Ser Crofte had shared with her. Both she and Natalie believed Jameson Taeros to be innocent--and that Nero was the one trying to frame him. They believed that the somnus that was being smuggled in was for legal purposes, and that Roen and Nero’s interference had only handicapped their efforts to find a somnus dealer. Both the Sultansworns still believed that Taeros was innocent of having any hand in her somnus poisoning, and it was now obvious that the Monetarist noble was using that belief to weasle out of an arrest. There must be another way, the paladin told herself, trying to extinguish the resentment and outrage that continued to simmer on the edge of her thoughts. She did not expect that Natalie, of all people, would harbor any loyalty to the Monetarist who was directly responsible for disgracing them in the first place. But then again, she could never truly predict Natalie’s rash decision making or her actions. But Ser Crofte... Roen had thought, at the very least, that she seemed to want to find the truth, even if she was not willing to arrest Taeros for the somnus shipment. But with Taeros’ arrest on hold, Roen knew there was going to be no easy way to get Daegsatz freed from the gaols. She was struggling with the thought of how to share this news when the cell door opened and she saw the Roegadyn curled up into a ball, groaning. The basket in her hand was quickly laid on the ground. Roen knelt by his form, one hand going to his forehead. Her practiced healer's gaze studied his complexion, and she suspected what he told her the sun before was true. “Are you alright?” she asked, but from his expression, she already knew the answer.

Roen blinked, staring at the parchment and the image she had not seen there before. She glanced from it to the Roegadyn, a soft smile lifting her expression. “You are a wise man, Mister Traggblansyn. Your captain is lucky to have you.” She declared, holding up the sketch in front of her as if to examine it. “And quite the artist to boot.” The paladin rolled up the parchment and tucked it under her arm as she stood. “You will definitely have more parchment and ink on the morrow. As repayment for this.” Her smile brightened. “Perhaps we can decorate this dark cell with some of your art.” Roen walked to the barred door, knocking on it to signal the jailor again. She leaned against it as she waited, regarding Daegsatz, warmth in her soft smile. She could see how Nero would see him as a fatherly figure; the Roegadyn had a simple but astute wisdom about him. I need to get him out of the gaols and back on the seas. And I will, she quietly promised herself. He does not belong here.

Roen regarded Daegsatz with some measure of sympathy. While she had never heard of landsickness, she knew how queasy she felt on ships. She would not wish that ailment upon the Roegadyn; being gaoled was bad enough--another adversity she understood all too well. She absently glanced at his finished product as he examined the first parchment, although her curiosity was now tempered by her empathy for the man. As he began to work on the second parchment, Roen put another piece of orange in her mouth. She had not talked about her father in a long time. Memories of her mother came to her easily, and sharing those moments always made her feel as if she were paying respects to the woman who raised her. But her father was a different story; it had been Dorien nan Luraes who had drove her to join the Battle at Carteneau, and it was his involvement in the Fall of Dalamud that had made her run away and adopt Eorzea as her new home. None of this she thought to ever share with anyone. “I saw what grief can do. Losing someone you love like that. It…was easier for him to lock away what compassion he had left and throw himself into his work.” Her voice had lowered to just above a whisper, the reminiscence of her father always bringing melancholy with it, a tidal wake of bitter remembrance. “I was…unable to bring him back, then.” She stared at the stone floor. Her shoulders slumped. “That was over six cycles ago,” Roen said after a weighted pause. With a sharp inhale, the paladin drew herself up, looking to the Sea Wolf. “I know not what became of him after the Calamity, but I know better, now, than to lose hope. If I ever saw him again…perhaps I would tell him that.” Roen curled a small smile, shaking her head as if to dismiss the weight her words brought with them. She leaned over towards Daegsatz, this time shamelessly watching him draw. “Is that the Second Forte?”

Roen took up an orange, peeling it slowly as she peered sidelong at the markings on the parchment. She could not make heads nor tails of it but she stole glances anyway, curious. Daegsatz’s careful diligence clearly meant that it held some significance, even if just for him. “I have been training since I could hold a wooden sword!” the paladin replied with feigned indignation. She laid half of an orange near the Roegadyn before peeling off a piece from her own. “I started training…after my mother died.” Her voice grew soft with the recollection. “I was seven years old.” She looked back down at the orange in her hand. “I thought if I became a knight I could protect, and...even heal my father’s broken heart.” Roen exhaled, staring absently at the fruit. “I thought, had I been a knight sooner, I could have protected my mother as well.” She snorted quietly. “What did I know then? I was but seven years old.” Roen was about to take a bite of a piece when she paused and arched a brow at Daegsatz, his earlier words finally sinking in. “Did you say landsickness…?”

Roen was leaning over ever so slightly, craning her neck trying to peek at what he was doing. But when the Roegadyn asked his question, she quickly straightened in her seat, as if caught doing something she should not have been doing. “Aye. I have!” she blurted. Roen could only take the slightest comfort in that he seemed as awkward as she in the elusive art of small talk. She smiled weakly. “And you? You must miss home. Vylbrand, aye? The ocean, the water.” The paladin let out a rueful chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck. “Although I could not imagine missing being on the seas. The churning of the waves and my last meal never seem to agree with each other.” Daegsatz continued to draw on the parchment in silence as Roen continued to try and fill the silence between them. “My mother always loved the ocean though. You see two sunsets when it is reflected on the waters. The sound of the waves on the rocks. The breeze that rolls in, it can sooth the soul. I can see why some long for it.”

Jameson Taeros still had not been questioned. It had been three suns since the botched raid and the arrest of his men, but the Monetarist noble himself had not been found. Supposedly he was out of Ul’dah on business matters -- or at least that was what she had been told when she had asked Ser Crofte. Until he was questioned, there was no way to get Daegsatz out of the gaols since the investigation was still pending. Roen did not like it. She knew that with each passing day,Taeros had more time to prepare his defense, thereby increasing his chance of escaping arrest. The paladin tried to dismiss those thoughts as she entered the familiar cell however, she did not want to burden the Roegadyn with such speculations. She still noted the dimness of the dungeon and frowned. She was not allowed to bring in another lamp of all things--or anything that could be construed as a weapon; they still considered Daegsatz a dangerous pirate and a criminal. Roen wondered if she was the only one to think otherwise. “Parchment, quill, and ink, as promised,” she said cheerfully, laying it out on the cot. Roen also laid out more fruit and bread with some dried fish, and two waterskins. “This one is rum, but that one is sweet water.” She pointed to each of them in turn. “Not even pirates can survive on rum alone.”

Roen hid a small but pleased smile as Daegsatz snatched the book away. She instead turned her attention back to the floor, trying to make out the shapes he was pointing to. “A family tree,” she said softly, finishing up the last piece of the orange. “What a lovely idea.” She was curious about the Roegadyn--about his kind in general. She was acquainted with only a few, and knew very little of the Sea Wolf tribe, or of their tradition of piracy in general. Other than the oft-regaled tales of raids and lawlessness on the seas, Roen had never thought about pirates (or ‘privateers’ as they were known now in Limsa Lominsa). But Daegsatz was making her realize that such broad impressions hid depths to the man within, as labels often did. She drummed her fingers on her lap before she stood. “Parchment and ink. You will have them tomorrow.” The paladin nodded. After signalling the jailor, she gave the Roegadyn another smile. “Perhaps you can show me the tree once you are done.”

Roen nearly choked on her piece of orange at the word ‘married’. Surely that was a figure of speech… But as Daegsatz continued to berate and belittle both his captain and her race, the paladin could only smile in amusement. She had no doubt now of the affection the Roegadyn held for both Nero and his father. She eyed him as his nose buried itself more and more into the book she had brought, which made her glance at the dimly lit room. She made a mental note to bring another source of light for the cell, as Ser Crofte did for her. Roen straightened when the book was finally shoved in front of her face. She squinted at the word he was pointing at. “Aeviternal,” she read out loud. “It means eternal. Everlasting.” She scanned the rest of the page then wrinkled her nose. “Well, this particular tale is about…knights and princess and such…” she turned a few pages to see what the next chapter was and cleared her throat. “I am certain there is something...more suited to your taste in here somewhere…” She chuckled awkwardly. She had already been called a nanny; she wondered why, of all things, she had brought a book of faerie tales for the burly pirate. Perhaps it was because Hornet had gifted her with the same when she felt lost. It seemed a good idea at the time. Roen cleared her throat and looked back to the floor. “So." She was eager to change the subject. "What are you drawing on the stones, exactly?”

Roen took up the offered fruit, silently admiring the Roegadyn’s dexterity with the orange, despite his large fingers. She peeled off a piece and popped it in her mouth and shrugged. “It seems neither you nor your captain is used to random generosity. You do not owe me any recompense, Mister Traggblansyn.” She rolled her shoulders as she glanced at the book on the cot. “And I know the bells can drag on in here. I just thought to bring whatever may distract you from the walls a bit.” She peeled another piece of the orange and savored its taste between her lips before she gave Daegsatz a sidelong glance, one that lit up, delighted, when an idea came to her. “Although if you do want to repay me in kind…” she began, her words buoyant with curiosity. “You can tell me a little more about yourself and Mister Lazarov. Both of you have told me the same thing. I know that I know you not at all well. But…I wish to.” Roen peeled off a pith from a piece of the orange, her gaze going to it. “If he and I are going to be working together, I would know the man a bit more through his First Mate’s eyes.” She glanced back at the Roegadyn. “And the man he considers family.”