Roen

Roen was not the sort to back down from most challenges. Facing off against a giant toad twelve-fulms in height, or standing off against a half a dozen zombies, or sneaking into a Castrum against all odds...the paladin had faced these tasks with unwavering purpose. Uncertainty and disquiet were not the types of emotions to make her flinch. So why then, when this smug pirate leaned in just ilms away from her face did she stiffened inwardly? Roen was surprised that she felt warmth rising to her face. She immediately hated the idea that he may actually notice a slight blush to her cheeks. Nero's ice-blue eyes darted between hers a moment longer, before he shrugged; his tone still held that quiet dare just beneath its beguiling surface. “And that pillar snuck up on me. It wasn’t a fair fight.” “Well, being that the pillar was the innocent party…” Roen cleared her throat, shrugging nonchalantly as she took a step back. “I think you were fortunate to get away.” The amusement lingered on the pirate’s countenance. “It cancelled negotiations. As far as I’m concerned, it was the aggressor.” “Were there negotiations, truly?” She curled a skeptical smirk, silently thankful that the conversation was becoming more manageable, despite their stifling proximity. “I thought the argument was one sided.” Nero’s hand rose as he stepped forward again, gently lifting her chin to look up at him. He was not many ilms taller than her, but enough that she was peering up at him. “Come now, Roen. Where is that faith in me you held so fervently before?” A teasing grin creased his lips. "I am a gentleman! I would not be so churlish as to attack a pillar without reason." Roen swallowed and cleared her throat again, though she did not back away from him. Her expression remained defiant. He is trying to rattle me, she thought, miffed. “What possible reason could a pillar give you to attack it?" she shot back. "Were you not the one battling some mysterious shadow possession?” "Are you…embarrassed?" The smuggler moved ever so subtly closer to her, seemingly emboldened by her reaction. "I did not think you could be." The paladin’s eyes narrowed. She drew herself up. He was daring her and she was not going to flinch. "What...would I have to be embarrassed about?" She silently cursed when she heard her own voice falter in its control. "I am...not the one who attacked a perfectly still stone...pillar..." “No…” Nero’s voice lowered to just above a whisper, as he slid his hand to the back of her neck. “But you are the one who happens to be very charming right now.” Roen’s eyes widened. She could feel her heart quickening; was it panic she felt? Her mind raced for some kind of a sharp retort, but she was not given even a moment to react; the smuggler pulled his hand away and stepped back. “But we have some mines to investigate, no?” His easygoing smile had returned--just like that. It irritated her to no end. “Far be it from either of us to…lose sight of our priority so quickly.” “Right,” the paladin blurted out, her tone falling flat. The fact that she was so easily flustered was what infuriated her. She exhaled sharply through her nose and turned her back to him, glad to look at something else--anything else--besides that self-satisfied smirk. “We should work on the supplies,” she said quickly as she began to count off on her fingers, focusing on what was important. She was not going to play his game of who can ruffle the other’s feathers. “Supplies at the mines. Then the list.” “Tomorrow perhaps.” Nero was gazing up at the night sky when Roen gave him a sidelong glance. He looked back to her, thankfully devoid of his usual roguish grin. “I suggest we retire then. We will need to prepare. And I have some friends on Pearl Lane to visit.” Roen nodded, her eyes narrowing in thought. “Aye. I will get the list from Broken Nose in the morn. Then we can get it to your people.” "Mines first then. Forgery after. Then we replace it, and problem solved." He gestured with his hands in the air, as a magician did at the end of his performance. “Aye. Problem solved.” She nodded, relaxing slightly. She was glad that they were back to discussing what mattered. “I shall meet you before noon, then, at Black Brush Station.” Nero began to walk past her. “Until then, Roen…rest easy.” As the smuggler walked off, he brushed a hand past her face. It was to get a rise out of her, of course, she knew this. Roen did not turn nor deign to respond. She stood there, in the middle of Pearl Lane, stalk still, until his footsteps could be heard no longer. That…man. She simmered, her eyes narrowing. The paladin inhaled sharply, allowing now the crisp night air to calm her senses. She had made up her mind earlier that she would not let his aggravating personality affect her, for the goal of the common good. This was just another impediment, that was all--just another challenge to overcome. The paladin nodded to herself then departed Pearl Lane in the opposite direction, the swing of her arms and her stride just a little sharper than before.

Because I am feeling a bit silly this morning... screenshots! IC stuff...

TOTALLY hijacking the thread from Erik... Sorry! Okay not sorry. Okay I am. Only a little. we should have a picture of all the Ul'dah law enforcement too! Flames, Blades, Free Paladins and Sworns.

There were and still are plenty of Free Paladins out there! Gharen is one of them too! I can't remember all the Free Paladins I have met along the way. But thanks to the RPC (I think), the Sultansworn players have become much more numerous and visible in the last many months. And what am I doing up at this ungodly hour.

Time for some girl talk!! :thumbsup:

I died.

The cooling temperatures and darkening skies were a welcomed reprieve, both from the earlier heat in the day and the tensions that had thickened the air through dinner within the main room of the Soldier’s Club. Roen had finished the last of the trout by herself, thankful that Nero decided to step out first. Their conversation had ended at a standstill, as it so often had before. Would they always come to such intense argument whenever their principles clashed? Neither was the type to back down; this Roen recognized by now. But then the pirate turned to flattery which caught her off guard. She was never the one for flirtatious exchanges, they always made her uneasy. Especially with Nero, since he seemed to use it the way he did with insults--to gain the upper hand in a conversation. Pirates… Roen thought darkly to herself. As much as she believed in the good that was buried within the man, she also had to remind herself how exasperating he had been throughout the day. Perhaps, somewhere in between those extremes, she hoped to find a workable medium. So when Roen saw him in a boxing stance, throwing punches and practicing his form, she beamed inwardly. She had been eager, since her ordeal with Itarliht, to learn, practice, and improve her hand-to-hand combat. Practicing what she had learned from Qaeli and Osric helped keep her focused, and had prevented her from going stir-crazy while she was in the gaols. Perhaps in this, she hoped, she and Nero could find some common ground. She approached him as he continued to throw punches into the air, intently studying the speed of his strikes and his stance. He did not seem to notice her approach, his eyes trained straight ahead, his attention obviously elsewhere. “You were trained in hand to hand?” Roen asked after a moment, clearing her throat. Nero immediately dropped his fist, looking startled. Roen held up her hands in apology. “Do not let me interrupt. I was just...studying your form." The smuggler crossed his arms and coughed uncomfortably, a slight ruddiness to his cheeks. "I was not…trained, necessarily. I was…well..." He shrugged. “Growing up in Ul'dah necessitates the use of one's fists. My father taught me some proper fighting techniques…but I am not a master, not by any means." Roen crossed her arms, mirroring him. Her tone was reassuring. “I have only recently sought out a few lessons.” “The sword is suddenly too good for you, Miss Deneith?” Nero scoffed, his trademark smirk quick to return. Despite her intent to stay casual, Roen found her voice dipping, any trace of mirth draining from her face. “A sword is no good when you do not have it on hand. Then you are helpless if you do not know how to fight without a weapon.” Nero did not seem to notice the shift in her mood as he glanced to her amusedly. “Out of all the things for us to agree on… that’s at least one.” He raised his hands again and nodded to her as if beckoning. Roen stepped up in front of him, first taking a moment to watch his movements, then taking her own stance. She raised her fists in front of him. “You would not mind showing me a little?” He was already assessing her form. “Your legs are too stiff. Your opponent…” he stepped forward swiftly and pinned her left foot with his. “..Will take advantage of that.” He stepped off her foot even before she had a chance to react. “Looking to learn, are you? Perhaps this is something I may be able to educate you on…though you would do well to seek out the Pugilist’s Guild if true mastery is what you seek.” The paladin pulled her leg back as soon as it was freed, bringing her weight to the balls of her feet, trying to lighten her balance. “I know of one pugilist, a Flame Sergeant. He gave me a couple of lessons.” “More like no lessons, if that is the result,” Nero said jokingly, poking her forehead with his index finger. Roen frowned. “You caught me off guard,” she protested. She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes narrowing at Nero. “Perhaps I repeat what you already know, but fighting is no art. It is a tool. You use it to end your opponent, quickly and decisively.” He clasped his hands together then gestured both hands towards his face. “Hit me.” When she paused, he beckoned her again, bouncing a bit on his feet. "Hard as you can. Pretend…well, pretend I'm Taeros. And I just…kidnapped…your pet cat.” He grinned. The paladin narrowed her eyes at the growing grin on the man’s face. She nodded, then loosened her arms, balling up her fists. “Now, with your main hand.” The smuggler tapped the side of his face. “Everything you’ve got.” “I am allergic to cats,” Roen said, before she threw a quick jab at his face. She was shocked when it connected, she was so used to Qaeli blocking all of her blows. Nero stepped back a few steps at the hit. “Not too bad,” he said amiably, rubbing his cheek. “I thought you were going to block that,” Roen apologized. “Of course not.” The pirate snorted. “If you’re going to learn to fight, you need to know what it feels like to hit your opponent. And that was not terrible, no, but it was not everything you had. You were holding back.” He clapped his hands and gestured to his face again. “Once more. Your right hand. Keep it straight, and put everything you have into it.” Roen still hesitated. “You are going to block it this time…?” Hitting wooden dummies was one thing, hitting a man who was just going to stand there was something wholly different. It did not sit well with her, practice or no. Nero rolled his eyes to the dark skies with an exasperated sigh. "Just wait until Satz hears about this. I've actually found someone who is hesitant to punch me in the face. Guess he owes me that hundred..." “Fine,” she replied tersely. She balled up her fists again, this time consciously recalling her previous lessons. Her approach was direct, not wasting much movement or energy, as she threw another jab at him. The smuggler deftly ducked his head to the right. “Didn’t I say everything you have? That was better, but you didn’t put much force into it.” He sidestepped another jab. “I’ve seen harder punches from a Lalafell standing on boxes. Come on.” Roen’s eyes were narrowed into slits. She continued to advance on him, two jabs to her right then a left hook. Nero was quick on his feet; the jabs were dodged, his body nimbly navigating around her fists. “You’re still holding back, aren’t you?” The cross was parried with his forearm. “No wonder Taeros was able to take you down so easily.” His grin became derisive and mocking. “I’m going to have to save Ul’dah all by myself at this rate! I guess we might be able to put a footnote about you in the history books…” He ducked under another strike. “Maybe I have to go antagonize that Roegadyn again to get a proper punch, huh? Or I’ll just make his name that much more true…Broken Nose was, was it?” Her nostrils flared as his words were starting to get to her. Her steps quickened as she closed the distance between them again, no longer was she holding back her punches. Two jabs to the face came close, and Nero narrowly blocked a blow at his ribs. The smuggler gave a low whistle. “Your form is not terrible. We might be able to salvage something from that. But you are not--” his left foot shot out towards hers and stepped firmly on it, “--watching your feet.” He sent a left cross straight toward her face. As soon as her foot was caught, Roen found herself off balance, her eyes reflexively shooting to where she was pinned. She nearly did not see the fist that flew her way, as she jerked her head back away from it. Nero stopped his fist just before impact. He uncurled his hand and lightly tapped the side of her face, grinning all the while. He relaxed and stepped off her foot, his hands lowering. “A bit of work is in order.” He paused, regarding her with a tilted head. “A lot of work is in order,” he corrected himself, but seemed pleased. “But nobody starts a master.”

Roen could see the struggle behind his eyes--a storm of emotions that raged within Nero's tense frame. The muscles of his neck had tightened, and he stared at her long and hard; his icy blue gaze seemed to want to bore straight through her. But no words came forth and finally he turned his glare elsewhere. The paladin dipped her head in apology. She knew nothing of the man. Perhaps the darkness of his past, or whatever it was that haunted him, were fetters that constrained his hope and optimism. But she knew what that felt like. It was not so long ago, that she too was foundering, aimless; she was lost in a thick fog of her own, without hope and without joy. Somehow she had found threads of purpose, a promise of something better. She had found a way to burn away the miasma of dread and forlornness. “I...I thought I had lost my way. Not too long ago.” Her words were barely above a whisper, even if there were no other patrons about to hear her confession. These were memories she did not want to revisit. “I had lost faith in myself. I thought myself too weak. And I thought the world was a much darker place.” Her eyes were affixed to the half eaten fish in front of her. She did not want to meet anyone’s eyes when she recalled those times. “I did not want to return to Ul’dah. I did not want think about anyone else’s pain but my own.” “It is easy to forget sometimes... that there is good in the world.” The paladin rolled her shoulders in a small shrug. “When all you see is suffering. When all you feel is anger and despair.” She absently took up the fork in her hand and began to pick at her fish. She paused and peered back up at him. “But then I met good people, those who reminded me that the world is not all dark--not just about whether you survive or not.” Nero was watching her with a measured gaze, saying nothing. Roen regarded the smuggler intently, as if to hold his gaze. “It is about how you live, and make of it what you can. For yourself. And for others.” She set her fork down. “So I decided to do just that. Focusing on helping others…it lent me my own lucidity. It gave me purpose again.” Nero’s expression remained unmoved by her story, his meticulously constructed composure remained intact. But his voice wavered, just a bit when he spoke. “And what if I prove you wrong?” He inhaled. “You claim me to be a saint disguised as a devil. You…have poured all your faith into my beliefs.” His eyes narrowed on her as if to challenge her. “You believe my altruism will correct my wrongdoings.” "It's…not correcting wrongdoings so much as..." She hesitated. “What if I prove you wrong?” he repeated. The paladin met his stare with an intensity of her own. “You said yourself that first day we met. You have not lost your compassion. That is what sets you apart from those you seek to bring low.” She leaned in, her hands curling around the edge of her seat. “What if you prove me right?” It was a struggle of wills that neither was willing to relinquish to the other. And yet neither of them could be proven wrong or right either. At least, not yet. “It is up to you, Nero, what you choose in the end.” Her belief in him did not waver despite the fact that she knew so little of him. Perhaps it was stubbornness that drove her to try and make him see what she saw in him. Even if what she saw were mere glimpses and thinnest strands of hope drowned in a sea of ambition and ruthlessness...the fact that he wanted to bury them so readily made her want to bring them to the fore even more so. Even if he was starting to despise her for it. “Just know this. Your choice is not so predestined as you believe it to be.” Her expression softened again as if in peace offering. “I have faith.”

Roen could not accept that. The very idea that someone would risk everything, do everything, to better the lives of others, while willingly damning themselves for it… The paladin stared at the man seated across the table from her with renewed eyes. He had warned her before--hinted at the extremes he would be willing to go to in order to achieve his goals. She had glimpsed the hidden sadness there, behind his stoic wall of determination and resolve. Now she knew where that melancholy stemmed from. He honestly believed he did not belong in the light, once the Jewel was brought out of its murk of corruption and poverty; even if he had a direct hand in its emergence. “I do not believe that,” she said quietly, finally breaking the silence. “You are right. I do not know you. Nor what you have done. But I do believe you want a better future for Ul’dah.” Nero answered her with a bitter smile. She could see in his eyes that he thought her naive; she had spied that expression before when he belittled her ideals. But she did not care. There were those brief flashes of doubt when his mask fell, that told her that there was a part of him that wanted to believe. That his path of violence was not the only way. That he could belong in the better world. That he too could be righteous. “The only thing I know is crime,” his voice was even, almost cold. “I know only how to take life, not how to give it. Removing evil is not the same as creating good.” Roen shook her head, her dinner all but abandoned. She searched the man’s eyes, her voice imploring. “You say you are a criminal. And yet you want to do good.” A breath’s pause fell between them as she locked her gaze with him. “You can do good if you want to. I know you do.” He said nothing to that; Nero's eyes seemed to stare at the table more oft than not. “You seem so determined in this path, to fix Ul’dah at any and all cost," Roen continued. "Even if it means you throw away your own life and happiness.” Her expression softened, a hint of sorrow tugging on her brows. “You seem so driven. And filled with anger.” When the smuggler answered her with apathetic silence, Roen set aside her questions about his outburst earlier. She suspected there was something in his past that haunted the man so, that sparked a darkness, and perhaps chained him to this unrelenting course. But if he did not want to divulge it, she would not pry. Her faith and hope in him still did not waver regardless. “What criminal works with the poor? Or gives money away to children and the sick?” Roen’s gaze softened as she recalled the boy and father at Stonesthrow earlier. Her shoulders lifted and fell with a deep breath. “I think you are more than what you think you are. You just want to be what you think you are, because that is what you know.” The paladin thought she sensed something else in him at that moment, his brow twitched. “Perhaps you are right," he finally rasped after the long silence. Was that reluctant acknowledgement? She could see that his resolve was faltering, even if just a little. His frown deepened. "But perhaps you are not." “This,” Roen gestured between them, “is new for me. I have never worked with someone like you. Nor have I ever thought of anything else other than working under the Order and the Sultanate.” She drew herself upright as she inhaled. “And yet here I am. Perhaps both you and I…are on a path we have never walked before.” When Nero met her gaze, she held it firmly and gave him a small but gentle smile. “You do not want to walk it because you do not know it. But…neither do I.” She laced her fingers together, clasping her hands in front of her on the table. “But I am willing to try. I know I need to. To change things.”

Roen frowned. Her fork and knife were set motionless against the dish, her appetite suddenly forgotten. The disappointment hung from her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Nero had predicted this; that Taeros would somehow elude the arm of the law, contrabands or no. She had argued for and defended the right way of doing things, whereas the pirate was a proponent of ‘whatever means necessary.’ “I thought we had enough on him. For an arrest.” The paladin flicked a glance back at him, her objection like a knee-jerk reflex whenever he condemned her ideals. “Justice has not failed. It just got stalled. Taeros has been at this much longer than you and I.” She straightened, new conviction leaking into her words. “We just have to find another way.” Nero did not seem convinced. He snorted derisively into his mug as he took another pull of the rum. "You could have pinned the Calamity on him, and that would not be enough for your friends to indict him." He set the drink down none too gently. "'Sultansworn'. 'Paladins'. Seems Ul'dah's knights in shining armour can be bought just like any other Brass Blade." The sneer was evident in his voice. “They have not been bought.” Roen did not hesitate in her reply. She set her utensils down and leaned forward as if to press her point. “They believed his story. Taeros…he has a way of spinning the truth. He…” she winced. “He is blaming you.” Nero mirrored her gesture as he too leaned in, his gaze unflinching. “I suspected as much. He is not a foolish man, and your friends do not know me as you do. It is the logical decision." "I underestimated how closely he had been working with both Natalie and Ser Crofte. And they know you not at all." She let out a long exhale as she bowed her head. “He is trying to paint me the fool and you the liar." The pirate shrugged and leaned back. "None of this was unexpected. We will simply have to alter our game plan a bit. Might Crofte have told you why Taeros was shipping so much somnus?" "They are looking for a somnus dealer. It has to do with an old case." Roen frowned thoughtfully. There was more to that, of course, but she was tired of explaining her string of troubles. "He said he was bringing in that much somnus to flush out the dealer they were all looking for. But you setting him up, ruined that plan." Nero rolled his eyes."Breaking the law to do good. A man after my own heart." His tone was thick with sarcasm. Roen wrinkled her nose. She did not like what she was about to ask. "You do not have...anything incriminating to be found in Limsa, do you?" The smuggler flicked a lazy glance in her direction. "That depends. What does my business in Limsa Lominsa have to do with this?" "Ser Crofte mentioned she was going to poke around in Limsa about you." The pirate actually seemed amused by this. "Was she now? And what does she expect to find?" Roen shrugged. "I do not know. I think...she thinks she is looking out for my best interest." Nero snorted. "If that is so, then why not introduce us? If Crofte is so concerned for your welfare, let her be the judge of the company you keep." He shrugged again; his trout had been cleaned off his plate, and he picked at his teeth with the fork. "As I said earlier and as you agreed, your friends do not know me. Perhaps it is in our best interests to remedy that. After all..." the smuggler narrowed his gaze at her; the spark of amusement was still in his eyes, but there was a steely accusation embedded in them as well. "You claimed they cared about Ul'dah as much as I did." “They do,” Roen answered readily, her eyes narrowing at his veiled allegation. She could not help but feel slighted at his derision; even if she herself had been reluctant to return to the Order. She still trusted many within the Sultanate and she would not see some pirate defame them so. “That remains to be seen,” Nero said brusquely. “Alright. Perhaps you should meet them.” The paladin crossed her arms. “Then you would not have such doubts either.”

“You sure you want to throw your lot in with the likes of him?” Roen glanced to the door, her eyes lingering there as she tried to dismiss the perplexed crinkle on her brows before turning back to Broken Nose. She gave the Roegadyn a meek shrug in response. “I am finding that he can be a little…baffling at times. But he has his heart in the right place.” The Hellsguard snorted and shook his head. “You and your bleedin’ heart, Deneith. It’ll get you in more trouble than it’s worth.” He seemed more relaxed now that the hostile Hyur had gone. The paladin curled a lopsided grin at him, crossing her arms. “I do not think I am wrong about you either.” Broken Nose snorted even louder, purposefully so. “HA! That remains to be seen! You weren’t so crazy about me when my spit landed on your boots that first day.” As if remembering, he dug into his belt pouch to draw out a pinch of grassweed--his favorite chewing herb--and stuffed it in his cheek. Roen wrinkled her nose. “I do not know what you like about that bitter thing.” “It’s an acquired taste,” the Roegadyn shrugged with a stained toothy grin. When a brief silence fell between them, his brown eyes regarded her up and down, his cocky expression fading. “Good to see you well, Deneith. After all that.” She could only manage a subdued smile in response. The last time they had really spoken to each other was before the kidnapping--before everything that had twisted her world so sharply. She avoided his gaze by dipping her head and glanced at the desk, fingers brushing over some random piece of parchment. She was eager to leave the subject. “Gratitude for your aid at the Silver Bazaar.” The Hellsguard let out contemptuous snort. “Taeros’s not goin’ to be happy about all that, but he has little pull with the Rose now.” The Roegedyn's chain-mail rustled as he leaned against the wall. “You goin’ after him. Not a safe thing to do. Or wise. But…you never been known to be wise.” He gave her another toothy smile. Roen canted her head, amusement lightening her features. “And now you are helping me. I could say the same about you.” The Roegadyn was fingering out more grassweed from his pouch when he paused, giving her a pointed look. “Just look out for yourself, eh? If that pompous Limsan gets out of hand, I’d be happy to break a few ribs.” When the paladin quirked a brow at him, he gave her an exaggerated shrug. “He offered! You heard him!” Roen shook her head and sighed. “Well, I will return for the list later. I should make sure our mutual friend has not gone off and offended more people.” “Hmph,” the Roegadyn grunted as he returned to the desk. As Roen closed the door behind her, she heard him call out one last time. “My offer stands! Ribs!” Roen ducked her head as she strode out of the Headquarters, putting her stoic visage back in place. There was no need for others to know that she and Broken Nose were on friendly terms. But the extra effort to draw her brows low were no longer needed when she stepped outside and her thoughts turned to Nero. She rounded the pillar where he caught a glimpse of him, her tone already lowering with reproach. “What was that all about--” She paused when she found him on his knees, one hand on his head. Was that...blood?

Ah MAH GAWD. That is awesome Tiergan. Askier to a tee. Crazy bomb kitty. :thumbsup:

Kage you can also have have as healers that have yet to make your list: Nero - WHM/SCH Siha - WHM/SCH Vaughn - WHM

What is he doing?! Roen could only stare in disbelief as venomous words erupted from the usually self-composed smuggler. She could see the eyes of the Hellsguard narrowing dangerously as Nero continued to slander the Brass Blades--very organization the Roegadyn worked for. By the time the pirate turned his back to the Blade, Broken Nose was scowling openly, his dark eyes glaring daggers at the Hyur man. Only when the paladin cleared her throat did the Roegadyn seem to remember that she was in the room. When he stared at her pointedly, it was with an expression most furious. “That was your pitch?” Broken Nose directed his question at her, his voice a low growl. Shooting Nero a sharp sidelong glance, Roen pushed herself off the desk, her hands held up in front of her in an attempt to sooth the irate Roegadyn. “Apologies…” She grimaced at the Blade. “Sebastian here,” she gestured toward the Hyur, “is a stranger to Ul’dah’s way of doing things. And perhaps the heat as well. He might even be addled.” She gave Nero a pointed look. “He has not had a good day.” Broken Nose did not seem appeased at all. “And so comin' here, spewing insults at me while asking me for help, that’s only going to improve his day.” He uncurled his arms and cracked his knuckles. Roen winced. The Hellsguard was, for the most part, an honest Blade...insomuch that he had grown tired of some of the ruthless and vicious ways of his former captain, Anden Anduron. But that did not mean he did not know how to enforce the ways of the Brass Blade, nor was he shy about dispensing some pain to prove his point. She could see in the Roegadyn’s dark eyes that he was giving it serious consideration; teaching foreigners lessons about the way things worked in Ul’dah was a storied Brass Blades tradition. The paladin shot another look at Nero in case he was intending on a retort. She then turned and gave Broken Nose an apologetic smile. “He has already learned one lesson.” Roen stepped up to the Hellsguard, holding one hand up in front of her. “Let us not compound that with more violence. Please?” It took a moment for the Rogadyn to break his gaze from the Hyur’s still-turned back to look to the paladin. It was a struggle between his rising temper and her words of supplication, that much was clear, but in the end, he sighed and lowered his hands to his side. His voice still held onto a rumble of dissent. “For you, Deneith. This once. But he starts throwin' out his insults again, no promises.” Roen sighed with relief. She gave Broken Nose a small faint smile. She knew he did not truly enjoy violence for violence's sake so appealing to that had worked. “Gratitude.” She inhaled, continuing before Nero or anyone else broke the tenuous calm that had barely settled between them all. “Those supplies that were taken... they were legal and accounted for. And they were to provide needed relief for the refugees.” Her eyes peered up intently at the Roegadyn, knowing he knew how she felt about the poor. “We need to get them back.” Broken Nose grunted as he stepped back to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. One corner of his lips tugged tightly as if he was trying to look stoic despite her plea. He had been a lowborn, grown up amidst the poverty, so Roen knew there was a thread of sympathy there even if the Hellsguard did his best to hide it. “They were probably taken to the buildings at the Nanawa Mines. That’s usually where confiscated goods are sold.” Roen nodded. That was a good location for some illegal trading. Miners rarely cared, and it was close enough to the Northern Thanalan gates if the goods had to be smuggled elsewhere. “And getting the goods back...” The Roegadyn snorted with contempt in Nero’s direction. “Since competence is in short supply, you can go appropriate your goods yourself. No point in sendin’ criminals in uniform to do the right thing.” “Done.” Roen nodded, readily accepting what was offered. She knew it was the best she was going to get. She paused for another moment, deliberately waiting until Broken Nose turned his gaze back to her. “There will be more supplies to Ul’dah in the future, for the poor. We… need to get Sebastian on that list.” That brought the Roegayn’s brows arching up. He said nothing, but the look he gave the paladin was one of incredulity and apprehension. “I need to know where you get that list. Who keeps it.” Roen narrowed her eyes with determination. “I know you can get a copy.” Broken Nose slowly nodded. “I can. But gettin’ a copy of the list, and gettin’ on the list, are two very different things.” Roen pressed her lips together, curling an enigmatic smile. “Let us take care of that?” She cleared her throat, not really wanting to go much further into detail than that. The less he knew, perhaps the better. “Where is the original list kept?” The Hellsguard slowly narrowed his eyes on her, skepticism clearly written in his face. “It’s kept by a Lalafell named Kejin Zinjin. He has an office above Ruby Road Exchange. He updates the list whenever he gets new names, and hands out a new list every fortnight. He keeps the original in a lockbox in his office.” The paladin nodded, cataloguing the info in the back of her mind. She furrowed her brows when she saw Broken Nose’s attention turn back towards Nero, however. “This doesn’t sound like you, Deneith.” The Hellsguard sneered in the man's direction. “Your Limsa trader come up with this crazy plan?”

Dammit Nero beat me to it. I was going to nudge a certain Monetarist noble your way as well!

Hey there, Iron! I had a devil of a time with the format when I first put mine up too. I hope to meet you someday in character! o/

Alts! \ o / I have a few... although I know others who have leveled WAY more than me. :dazed: While Roen is my main, Raelisanne is my main alt (and I will just stick to talking about her for this post for brevity's sake). I leveled her to 50 when I started to play this game because on my previous MMOs, leveling alts were a thing. This game though made me finally say "Ugh leveling alts is hard" because of stories and scenarios that I had to do for each character. But I am glad I did level her because she was/is the main villain in the very first group oriented plot that I was involved in. Like Osric mentioned, having her be a playable character really does help out the scenes she is in. It also helps me slip into her shoes easier, her mannerisms, appearance, dialogue is wholly different from Roen, and it is easier for other characters to immerse themselves into the scene as well because she is standing right there. I think it definitely enriches a scene visually to play against a character that is standing there. Forum RP/text RP is another way to tackle that problem though if you don't want to spend the time leveling. As for how much time I play my alts vs main... it really depends on the arc. Because Raelisanne is a villain, I don't have her casually walking about, hanging out at taverns, or whatnot. She doesn't get leisure play. I bring her out for specific meetings and such. But that's because that's who she is. She abides by schedules, do not do things without purpose or plan. So scheduling scenes and RP for her is easy to do, and the rest of the time, I am playing my main. The major arc she is in, the chapter has come to an end, so she is laying low for now. So right now she isn't getting any play time really. But there were days where I was on her more than Roen so that I can set up plots, RP meetings and such. Still, I have never really felt that Rae took my play time away from Roen. Rae is there to enrich other's stories, throw conflicts their way... and maaybe get some development her way long the way (because cardboard villain without depth is boring). I plan to explore her story though mostly through written posts. But those revelations will come pretty slow. Will I have difficult time ending her story? Nope! I kind of have an end in mind for her, although it's vague and RP will largely dictate it, but when the time comes, if her story comes to an end, she will become a new character with a new name and look. Perhaps a new villain? I don't know! But she is planned to be a long-spanning arc character so that won't be anytime real soon. Again, long winded, my apologies. I hope that lends some insight.

Brass Blades Headquarters. Roen thought she would never see this place again. Or at least not so soon. There were faces that she recognized here, perhaps more than she thought she would. Her time with the Blades had been short; just over a month, but she remembered walking through those double doors on that first day, eager to be fitted in that vermillion chain armor. She had not held the same dread that Natalie and Kage harbored when they too were demoted. Roen had held some respect for the men and women and their work in keeping the citizens of Ul’dah safe, for they were the ones walking the streets, patrolling the lanes, and guarding the gates. Did she still see the Brass Blades the same way she saw them that first day? The paladin’s eyes had been opened in that first harsh month. She did not know that behind the proud Ul’dahn banner of Nald’thal’s golden scales lay an organization that was far from the staunch protectors of Ul’dah that she thought them to be. Instead, Roen saw the extortion and the corruption that was part of their daily routine, and she was expected to take part in it. She also experienced firsthand the ruthless unforgiving traditions that governed their ranks--and she learned the price to be paid when one did not fall in line. That memory still pitted her insides, and Roen had to remind herself she was no longer a Blade. The paladin’s stride through the hall was quick, as she made her way towards the back of the building where she knew to find Broken Nose. Despite the hardships that she had to face while she was a Blade, she knew there were those serving the organization for the right reasons. Broken Nose used to be one of them. He too sought to protect and serve, at least at the start of his career. But much like the banner of the scales that hung on the wall, the Blades were expected to both do good and bad to maintain the balance inherent to Ul'dah. They protected the Jewel, risked their lives daily to fight the Amalj’aa and others that threatened the City-State’s safety, but they also took from the people they served. Perhaps the Brass Blades represented the current state of Ul’dah in the truest way possible. The organization was ruthless; it was about money, and it was about power. But through that, it also protected the people within its demesne. That had been a strange and bitter pill for Roen to swallow. But she had--as had many. Coming upon the door to the office, Roen knocked lightly, glancing over her shoulder to Nero who had been keeping close pace with her. She had offered no explanation of who he was or why he was here, and with her authoritative stride and the fact that her face was already known, none had questioned her about the man that accompanied her. Perhaps it was the infamy of her recent time in the gaols, or the fact that she used to be wanted for desertion but was dismissed of those charges. It could have been the fact that her previous commanding officer was now no where to be found; none in the Headquarters had the gumption to approach the woman in her quick trek through the building. For all she knew, Nero was just an honest merchant that had been dragged in for the wrong reasons. Roen had asked the pirate to keep quiet and to let her handle things, but she was silently relieved that they had passed through without incident. Less questions to answer the better. When the door opened, a large Hellsguard Roegadyn quirked a dark chestnut brow at her. He clearly was not expecting her. When the paladin gave him a small but wary smile, he stepped aside to allow her entry. He stepped slightly in front of the entryway after she passed as if to block Nero from entering. “Who might this be?” Broken Nose rumbled. Roen turned and leaned against a nearby desk, her hands curling around its edges. “He is with me,” she reassured him with a nod. Her voice was kept low however, to keep it from leaving the room. The Hellsguard gave Nero a once lookover as if to size him up, before moving to the side again to allow him entry. He glanced down the hallway before closing the door. The Roegadyn did not move from the entrance as he crossed his massive arms in front of his chest. He looked to the paladin expectantly. The office had no windows, this the paladin was grateful for. None could see who was meeting within, and it was difficult for them to be spied or eavesdropped upon. The room was small but well lit with lanterns. A desk rested on the opposite of the room as the door, and there were chairs scattered about the room. A table near the corner of the room had some empty bottles of wine and stained cups. A few sheafs of parchment were spread about the desk that she leaned against, and a bookshelf and an armoire stood on either side of the room. “There have been some developments,” Roen said quietly, her eyes going to the Roegadyn. She leaned in slightly forward, as if to emphasize that this was a private matter. “And I…” she glanced to Nero, “...we…need your help.” Broken Nose narrowed his dark brown eyes, as if not liking that look from the paladin. His gaze slowly drifted from her to the Hyur man in the room. “And who might this be?”

SIHA! \o/ We can fan each other.

Uhhh... This isn't an IC raid is it...? Roen would not be oggling. >.> <.< Not saying I wouldn't though.

PMs, to this day, have been my best friend. I am not shy about PMing people. I often hash out quite a few ideas there, or move to Skype for more of a conversational plotting. And I always PM someone with the mindset, "if they tell me 'no' or 'not interested,' that's totally okay!" But of course that was before there was an area that was created specifically to Making Connections. You can use that now too! I would look around first at Jancis' immediate circle of friends. She has friendships and people she can call on, who would be interested in what is going on with her! You never know, there may already be people near her that want to plot with you!

There are some great advice here already. So I am probably going to be just reiterating a lot of it. And! I am rather a new roleplayer when it comes to roleplaying in an MMO setting. I've only just been recently exploring this whole new world of forum RP even! So that in mind... Things I consider essential for plotting an arc: First, you need roleplay partners that you trust and want to collaborate with. This is an absolute must. Because brainstorming by yourself is no fun. Driving the bus by yourself, also not fun! It can be for a time, but then you can burn out or feel like everything is on you. I have plotted with both reactive and active players, and both are very enjoyable experiences! And you need both really. As Berrod said, one of the most enjoyable moments can be when something you set up takes a life of its own and other players just totally run with it. I've been surprised by those I collaborate with in the past and it is a delight. Also, I go a little different route than Berrod. I do not plot out an ending. I first ask either myself or those I am plotting with, "what do we want to explore?" And try to plot out something from there. It can be an element of someone's past, exploring someone's dark side, a fall from grace, or a tug-of-war between character's principles... and so on! Start with an central idea of what the arc may be about, then build a plot around it. I say I don't plot out the end because I find that roleplaying is so dynamic, things really can change in the course of telling a story. People you play with get inspired as the plot goes on and their contributions can totally change the course of something. Also, Inessa mentioned that there are different types of arcs. You can focus on personal stories (I always think that is a good way to start) to something more group oriented. Although I find that former easily can evolve into the latter, when other characters become involved and invested in the arc. I find that it enriches the story so much more when you have different perspectives with each characters going through their own struggles somehow. So the story isn't really ever about ONE person in the end. Lastly, (sorry I don't mean to be long-winded) THIS. Do not be afraid to call attention to your character or plot an arc that explores your character, because everyone deserves the spotlight now and then! We want to know Hornet's story! You know I love to plot, Hornet! Let me know if I can help in anyway.

Roen sat quietly in the shack, listening to the exchange between Nero and Lancel behind her. Her eyes lingered on the boy’s father that she had just healed, though her thoughts drifted to the smuggler who was just making his exit. With her back to them, she did not bother to hide the slow grin that rose. He does care. The paladin glanced down at her hand--the one the boy had shook with enthusiasm, her skin still tingling with the memory of his joyous gratitude. She felt suddenly lighter then, as if the air in her chest had become more buoyant, her senses less encumbered by the stale heat that pervaded the small cabin. "My thanks to you, Miss Deneith," came a murmur from the man who began to rustle in front of her. It seemed that his lucidity was returning to him after the healing that his leg had received. The older Highlander turned to her, his grizzled face crinkled with gratitude and relief. Roen returned a nod, the warmth in her expression lingering. "What is your name, Mister...?" "Lowell Radulf," the Highlander rasped, trying to sit up straighter as if to be polite. Roen shook her head and waved him back down. "Just rest, Mister Radulf. I would not want you to undo all the work I just did." It was a jest on her part; his leg was healed and it just needed time to regain its strength... but he did not have to know that. The Highlander blinked and nodded solemnly, laying back down. The strict adherence to her words made her feel a little guilty. "You leg just needs some rest, and practice." Roen reassured him. "Then you would be back to hunting in a few suns, I imagine." The Highlander nodded. “I owe you Miss Deneith. And that man, Mister...” “Sebastian,” Roen finished for him. Nero had given them that name, the same one he had given her first time she confronted him. She presumed he had his own reasons for doing so, and she was not going to betray it. “You two are a Twelve-send,” Lowell continued, tired eyes looking up at the low shoddy ceiling. “I had to hunt further and further away from the camps and...” The man curled his arm over his eyes, as if to hide his despair. But it shook his voice. “Lancel’s mother was lost to the poison sickness. I am the only one left for the boy.” Roen leaned over and lightly touched the man’s arm. “He still has you. And he is a smart and resourceful boy, your son. He came to find us on his own.” Her words were soft. She dismissed the frown that rose as she recalled the stories of the poison sickness that passed over a month ago, but it had claimed many lives, especially in the refugee camps. The repercussions were still felt to this day. The Highlander lowered his arm, his sorrow giving way to some measure of hope as he looked back at her. “I hope to see you two again, to repay my debt. May Menphina bless you both in your future.” His smile broadened knowingly. Roen blinked. He thinks we're-- Her lips parted to protest, then she thought twice and closed them shut, her lips tugged in a way that tried to emulate a smile but quite wasn’t. The man seemed so sincere in his thanks that she was certain it was just a polite parting words. She nodded again oddly, then rose and ducked out of the cabin. When she emerged from the shack, Nero was waiting for her, his arms crossed. Despite the awkwardness that lingered in the back of her mind, the paladin offered him a genuine smile. They had done good, and she no longer had any doubts about trusting her instincts regarding the smuggler’s intentions. He could be as smug and sarcastic as he wanted; she was determined not to let it affect her. As long as his compassion remained for the poor and the discarded, she would do what she could to help him. “So?” Roen stepped up to Nero, dusting off her tunic and breeches. The heat and the sand were starting to cling onto their skin and clothes as the Thanalan sun continued to beat on them. “What is next?”

“Apologies,” was the only warning she gave. Roen grabbed the man’s leg and pulled. She heard his sharp gasp of pain, but she knew not to let his discomfort distract her now. Her grip was firm on the lower leg as both hands curled around the ankle and pulled it straight, allowing the jumble of broken bones to settle into alignment. One hand holding the leg in place, she shifted slightly to reach for Nero’s hand--the one placed on the man’s thigh--to move it down further, towards the knee. The man’s leg was jerking somewhat involuntarily from the pain. “Hold his leg here, and push.” Roen put her weight on top of his hand for a moment, as if to press her point. Then with the leg secure and still, she brought both her hands over the crushed shin and began to conjure. Roen always felt a sense of tranquility whenever she called upon the aether, as though she was awakening another sense that had been asleep. Her skin tingled as the soothing green energies materialized from thin air, delicate tendrils of glowing aether dancing and coiling around her fingertips. She pressed her palms flat against the man’s black and blue skin, and felt the warmth of the healing magic suffuse his battered leg. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly; she could feel the bones begin to fuse together, aided by the weave of aetheric energies. The swollen limb slowly began to flatten, regaining some of its original shape, although the purple color remained. Whether it was the conjury or Nero’s firm hold on the man, the patient became silent and still, only his shallow breaths filling the silence of the cabin. The faint green glow faded as Roen exhaled, her hand sliding off the man’s leg. Her shoulders slumped slightly with fatigue, though she was used to it after healing any extensive wound. She lightly touched Nero’s hand on the leg and gave him a nod to indicate that he could let up on the man. “Your leg is going to need a couple of suns before it can bear your full weight.” Roen said quietly as she leaned back, her eyes studying the patient. “I suggest you get some rest, and use the cane your son is soon to bring you.”

Roen followed Nero and the boy back to Stonesthrow in silence. She stared at the smuggler’s back every now and then as he traced the boy’s steps, the youngster having ducked around a few shacks and tents in his urgency to lead them to his father. Odd. That was a good word that befit the man, she thought. No. Exasperating, that is a better word, she corrected herself. For the short time that she has known the smuggler named Nero Lazarov, she had seen too many sides to the man. When she had tailed him in Pearl Lane, he was a cautious businessman. Then when they spoke alone in the caves near Black Brush Station, he had been a determined crusader, steadfast in his ambitions to drive out the Monetarists and better Ul’dah. It was this same driven man she saw again after the botched raid in The Silver Bazaar, except anger had fed his zeal and made him even more resolute. But today he was a different man altogether. Antagonizing, sarcastic, and so deliberately jovial it made her teeth grind. And yet his pompous smile and self-centered attitude were quickly dismissed in the presence of that boy; Lancel had seemed terrified of him after being caught. Was he just capable of turning on that kind of genuine air about him whenever he needed to win someone over? Or was that a glimpse of the man underneath that he rarely let out? Roen wanted to believe the latter, but prepared herself for the former. She still trusted her instincts in that she believed he did truly wanted to help Ul’dah, no matter how he acted. And that is what is really important, she reminded herself. It was then that she spotted Lancel, beckoning both of them toward a small shack. Giving Nero a quick glance, Roen ducked inside first, her eyes blinking as it adjusted to the dimness of the unlit cabin. There against the wall lay a man in ragged hempen tunic and trousers, one side of his pants ripped open to reveal a swollen and strangely bent leg within. The paladin frowned, recognizing the nature of the break below the knee. The man’s bloated skin was a sickly purple, and Roen knew his bones had been crushed, blood bloating beneath the skin over ripped muscle and tissue. It was more than just a simple fracture. “Pa!” Lancel crouched near his father, rousing the lethargic man awake. “I brought her, pa! The Sultansworn. She can heal you!” Roen gave a gentle smile to man who looked at her, his eyes glazed with pain and confusion. Kneeling by him, she gently squeezed the man’s hand in reassurance. “Shh. I know conjury. I will heal your leg. But you must stay still,” she said quietly. She glanced over to the boy with another warm smile. “Lancel, can you find your father a long stick? Something he can use as a cane after I am done?” Lancel blinked his wide hazel eyes and nodded, eager to help. He darted out of the shack. It was only after she watched the boy exit that Roen turned to Nero. “I will need your help to hold him while I set his leg. It may hurt a bit, but it will make his leg heal better.”