Roen

Roen did not recognize the woman who looked back at her in the mirror. She stood in front of it, her hands against the water basin, her fingers curled around its porcelain edges as she leaned her full weight on it. Her knuckles were white, and she forced away the trembling of her hands by tightening her grip. Her own reflection haunted her. Her head was completely shaved clean, by her own hands, to hide the evidence of the violence that had been visited upon it. She had healed the wounds left by the knife that was so recklessly and zealously wielded by the Brass Blade who had attacked her from behind, although the faintest scar remained by her ear and on her scalp. She had struggled in her channeling of the aether when she healed herself, leaning against the railing of the Goblet, the one that she had almost been thrown off of. Roen had healed many wounds before, but upon others, and had always done so with practiced calm. But her own wounds… and the events that had brought them on… Even now it shook her. Roen looked back down to her hands again, and saw the trembling there. Her eyes went from her fingers to the scant evidence of auburn locks that littered the basin. "Cheat, run, or die." Words from her first and only pugilist lesson. It echoed in her memory. “Running is not an option, Sergeant.” Her own words. It still rang true to her. “Who do you serve here, Deneith?” Suddenly the voice of her Brass Blades captain, her new superior now, came roaring back, pounding painfully in her ears. “WHO. DO. YOU. SERVE. HERE?!” Roen hung her head, fighting the nausea that rose. She served Ul’Dah. This was the Oath she swore. But what Captain Anduron expected of her, that was not her Oath. It could not be. He wanted to take from the people to make the city-state greater. But what good was a majestic city and impenetrable towering walls if people in it were bled dry? A slow intake of breath filled her lungs and steadied the fluttering within. She released her hold on the basin, standing straight and looking at herself back in the mirror. The woman that stared back at her had shed some of that darkness that was hanging over her like an apparition. She pulled her Brass Blades turban tightly around her head, hiding any sign of what lay underneath. She would return to duty this day, and she was determined that she would not let her convictions waver. She would still serve Ul’Dah, its people. Not the walls. Not progress. Not the illustriousness of the city-state, but the people that breathed and walked within. That was the true heart of the Jewel in her eyes. Captain Anduron’s words be damned. “I will not falter,” she repeated the words again of her Oath, one she swore in the middle of the Sagolii Desert, her hand joined on top of Natalie and Kage. She will not, she swore in her heart. Even as she fought the dread of what that would mean in days to come.

You totally beat me to it! (only because I slept in, went into work late this morning and have been running around like crazy trying to catch up) (... "I blame Askier.") But YES! Last night's scene was... wow! I rarely get SO surprised like that. When I do it is a treat, especially when I am then scrambling to try and figure out how the heck my character would respond. I am still thinking about it this morning. Kudos to Itar and Askier.

*shakes fist* And yes. Terrible pun! ... Maybe? I am already fudging timeline for certain scenes anyways... >.> To quote someone: "I blame Askier." ... and Itar. Anyways, I am still looking forward to this! Will be there in one form or another!

... I just realized, Roen can't be there. Like literally, physically can't make it. Even though she told Gus she would attend. Because of RP that happened last night. >.< But I will show up with an alt!

This. Villains do not have to be throw away characters. I think it is a horrible waste for people to think, oh that villain will eventually lose and be killed... throw away! Not that they will NEVER lose, by the by. That's not interesting either. Any good story has ups and downs, for BOTH good side and bad. We've seen in this thread that there are players whose main IS a villain. Seeing them thrive and grow gives me just as much enjoyment as seeing heroes triumph!

OH MY GAWD. That Delala is... perfect.

This SHOT. ... I died.

How to integrate Villains into RP... For me, my antagonists do not walk around looking for heroes to foil. (although playing a common thug can be refreshing sometimes too) Those I play are usually already integrated into storylines through OOC communication with the players. They have personal goals and personal targets. It is also much easier to do since ... well, you can't affect the world setting anyways. I have also integrated my antagonists into other storylines, where they are NOT playing the villain so that I can explore the character's past and different aspects of their personality. None of my non-good characters think of themselves as villains. They have a purpose, a mission, or a path in life they need to follow for whatever reason, and sometimes it results in harm to others. Some have an internal code that they follow, others... have no moral compass to restrict them what-so-ever. But they all do think they are doing something that needs to be done, or is worth doing. Although Rae will never think of herself as a hero either. She is not delusional. :lol: AND while Rae is not technically Garlean ... it would be a shame to lump and dismiss all Garlean affiliated characters as stereotypical non-imaginative "Garlean villains." One of my favorite antagonistic characters to play against in this game is a Garlean loyalist and she is a hoot and a half to RP with and complex as hell (you know who you are). Else you are going to miss out on a lot of great potential RP. I love the Garlean Empire as a whole in that their mission statement is not necessarily wrong. And people from the Empire are not all evil boogy man that Eorzeans tell their children about.

Your comment to the lurking guest who hasn't even registered yet made me chuckle. Great positive encouraging guide!

I bow to Cuideag, player of Jara and Delial, because her last two posts have blown me away. Kudos woman.

Leave it to Osric to replace Lando's smooth seductive voice in my head with Gottfried's fingernails on chalkboard tone. Thanks Osric. Thanks.

Lando's voice totally lured me in. Welcome to Balmung!

“You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Roen stood at attention, her back straight, her hands at her side. She had been brought to a Goblet housing ward by a Brass Blade she did not recognize, on Captain Anduron’s orders. He had his back to her, his hands clasped behind him, as he looked over the railing of the rest of the hamlet, overlooking the magnificent view of a waterfall and stone-carved architecture before him. Roen barely noticed the thin shower of mist that rose from the waterfall to cool the breeze that wafted through the residence, or the slowly darkening skies littered with stars that was starting to emerge from their daylong slumber. Her grey eyes remained with unease on the blonde Captain that had yet to face her, for she suspected the reason she had been summoned here. It was the caravan run. It was obvious that the rest of the Brass Blades of her unit were there to extort money from those who sought to enter Ul’Dah. She had vaguely heard mention of the practice in the past, but had been fortunate (or ignorant) enough to never have encountered one personally to believe it. So when the pouch of somnus was dropped next to her two suns ago, she did not know what to do. And when the family on the wagon was so obviously poor… she could only make one choice. But judging from the silence of the rest of the unit on their way back to Ul’Dah, and the cold glares shot her way from them suns after, she knew her actions were not well received. Broken Nose no longer deigned to show her around; he just told her to stand watch with Rand, near the Immortal Flames headquarters. But he did mutter something about the report he was going to make to the Captain. Two suns later, she was summoned to him, escorted by a burly and bald Brass Blade who only gave his name as Stank Balls. He left it to her to figure out why he was called that, and she did not walk close enough to him to find out. He kept calling her Pinkie, referring to the her red locks. “Come closer to the rail, Deneith. I am not here to throw you to your death.” Captain Anduron said in his usual precise, clipped tone, without turning around. When she came to stand at his side, he continued, his pale eyes looking to the view below. “Look down at all the lights below. Do you see them? Do you know what they mean?” Roen blinked, following his gaze to the distant steps, windows, and the streets of the Goblet. Lights were just starting to be lit with the arrival of the evening. "They light the streets, for us to walk at night. The lights in the windows... families. Homes." “What you see is progress, Deneith.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the cool breeze of the sundown. “Progress for the people of Ul'dah. Tell me, what do think other cities think of our precious Jewel, mm?” "They flock here, the refugees. For the promise of wealth. Haven." Anduron shook his head with a sarcastic smile. “You see, you are wrong. This is why I am glad we are having this conversation. I asked what the cities thought of us. Not their castoffs.” "I... do not know, Captain." “They fear us, Deneith. They fear progress. They fear what we have, as a city, and what we can build.” He turned partially towards her, his one good eye shooting her a look. “You are partially right, however. We are able to do what we do because of their castoffs. Their dreck.” He crossed his arms and looked back towards stone buildings. “They come to Ul'dah, and they are enveloped in our collective arms. Some are crushed by this embrace. And so be it. Not all can bear Ul'dah's prevailing heat. Some rise above, stronger for it. We are not the welcoming arms of a mother, Deneith. We do not coddle. We temper.” Roen tensed, her jaw set at those words. She trained her gaze towards the waterfall but said nothing. “We remake in our image. We are the furnace; we are the forge of humanity.” His voice rose above the din of the distant rapids, spoken to the skies as if to declare it to the night itself. “I am of Ul'dah. One might say I am Ul'dah. We Andurons... we are an old family. We have ruled the Gladiator pits for two hundred years, earning praise and honor and, yes, wealth. Our wealth was not easily made, but wrought in sweat and blood, and yes, even death. We paid a price for what we became.” He turned to her, to face her fully. The falling darkness lent harsh shadows to already a severe facade. “Deneith, tell me: who rules in Ul'dah?” She turned to him in attention. "The Sultana. Captain." He smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Ah. You see. I knew this day would bring about an education.” He exhaled patiently. “The Sultana rules in name, because the other cities would spit on us if we did not hold up this gilded mask for them to gaze upon.” He narrowed his eyes. “The Sultana does not, however, rule.” Roen heard raspy laugh behind her, reminding her that another Brass Blade was still there, watching the street. “Power is it's own mirror, Deneith. You were once a Sultansworn, and yet are one no longer.” He cocked his head. “Why?” Roen swallowed, trying to choose her words carefully. "There was an incident. We made a mistake and a ceruleum core was stolen." “Ah. Ceruleum.” He was regarding her oddly, as if to take her measure. “An expensive material. And so this one mistake came with its own price. A worthy lesson. Do you find the punishment to fit the crime, Deneith?” Roen bowed her gaze. "It is what Commander Jenlyns has dictated. I find it fitting. Sir." “Good.” He uncrossed his arms. “Remove your mask.” Roen paused, blinking with question, but obeyed him as ordered. But as the mask passed before her eyes and obscured her vision, she felt the hard impact of his fisted bronze gauntlet against her face, sending her staggering back. The turban and the mask fell from her hand as her vision blurred with pain. “Help her up,” she heard the Captain say. She suddenly felt a strong grip on both her arms from behind, and the unmistakable stench of the Brass Blade that came up behind her. There was a coppery taste of blood in her mouth now from her split lip. “We have a different sort of justice here, Deneith.” Captain Anduron stepped up close to her, just as she was blinking to clear her vision. She felt the rough yanking of her swords from her hip and her shield and weapons from behind her. They were tossed over the railing as the bald man behind her laughed. Anduron nodded approvingly as he looked her up and down, stripped of her weapon and shield. "You had a task the other day. The caravan sweep.” Roen swallowed, staring at the Captain. She was starting to focus beyond the burning pain rising on her face. “Aye… Captain.” “It's a simple task. Exact entry taxes. Do you know how we enforce this taxation?” He leaned in, ilms away from her face; she could smell liquor on his breath. She shook her head. “By any means we can.” He hit her again with a backhand, and the gauntlet blow would have sent her to the ground if it was not for the man holding her forcibly by the arms. She was then lurched over the railing by the same odorous Blade, her hand desperately grasping at the railing as she was bent over it. Below, distantly, sharp rocks awaited any fool unfortunate enough to fall over. The waterfall's thunder seemed much louder suddenly. “They are not of Ul'dah, Deneith,” the Captain continued without missing a beat, unmoved by her precarious state over the railing. “They might be, one day, but they will have to let Ul'dah decide. They are, until we say they are, worthless drains on our society, leeches and maggots feeding off the refuse we, as a unified city, grant to them.” Roen felt her breaths coming quick, her eyes going wide then closing shut, dizzied by pain and by the depths looming beneath her. The height of the drop was making her senses spin. One hand shot reflexively to her head as she felt a painful grip on her hair from behind, and a heavy elbow forcibly pressed down onto her back. The rancid Blade has his full weight on her, his knee keeping hers bent. She could not move. All the while, the Captain’s voice still cut through the night air. “Because you interfered in the collection of taxes, you allowed a portion of the money that flows back into progress, into advancement, into the homes and livelihoods of the people you see all below you, to fall away.” "Captain.. they had nothing but clothes on their back..." she gasped out, trying to explain. Anduron snarled. "And with a little coin you think they would have been worth something to our city?" She gasped again when the hold on her hair twisted further, arching her head up and back towards the Captain. "I'd suggest less talkin' when the captain's speaking'," the Blade sneered. That was when Captain Anduron struck her again, hard behind the ear, sending her senses reeling, her knees threatening to buckle once more. If they want to throw me over, they can, she realized with growing panic. “You stupid sow," he hissed. "If all they are worth is coin, then it is their coin we should have. If they have nothing else to offer, I assure you, they are already quite dead.” The large Blade held her up still, one hand in her hair, another restraining her by the arm. She shot a desperate look to the Captain. Anduron’s expression was cold and cruel. “Or has your time in Ul'dah taught you nothing?!” He struck her again and this time her knees buckled. She felt a knee driven hard into her leg from behind, jostling her forward over the railing again. Roen saw droplets of blood from her lip fall to the swirling waters, far, far below. "She's mouthy, cap'n. I don't think she respects authority." The foul stenched man taunted. Captain Anduron leaned against the railing next to her, tilting his head as he watched her hang there. His next words were quiet, barely heard above the pounding waterfall and her pounding heart. “Your oath, as Sultansworn, was to the Sultana. You failed in that regard, you stupid, stupid girl... and so you. Fall. To. Me.” His last words came razer-sharp and pulsed in her ear, as if to hammer through her pained senses. “Captain… I…” she began, but the rest left her with a guttural gasp as another hard punch cracked her rib. “Who do you serve here, Deneith?” He hissed into her ear, as the Blade jerked her head back again with a twist of her hair. “WHO. DO.YOU. SERVE. HERE?” "I serve... Ul'Dah... Captain." Roen gasped. Anden Anduron grabbed her chin with his hand, squeezing it in his gauntlets as he turned her head towards him. He leaned in close, his words angrily breathed upon her. “You serve Ul’Dah. And do you think Ul’Dah will be as merciful as the Sultana when you fail her?” Roen could not speak. She just shook her head. “No indeed, she won’t.” Anduron smiled. "Lemme show 'er how things work, Cap'n. I'd teach 'er a thing or two." The Blade who held her sniggered. Anden released his hold of her chin, and just as her head dropped, he struck her again behind the ear yet again. She could feel the pain sing in her skull, and blackness was starting to threaten at the edges of her senses. "I like 'er pink hair,” she heard the Blade growl from behind. “You can have her hair. I do not like it at all,” she heard the Captain say as she fought to stay conscious. “And clearly it is a hindrance to her.” She could see Anduron step away. “Ensure when next I see her, Deneith's skull resembles yours much more than hers does now.” The Blade grunted with approval. Roen felt the cold steel of a knife that rose to her cheek near her ear. She hissed as it sliced into her face. The Blade laughed. The Captain seemed unaffected by the bloody scene. “Deneith, you are given a twenty-four bell furlough. Report once more to me in one sun. I will have another task for you.” He nodded to the Blade then marched off, bootfalls ringing. Roen felt another rough tug of her head, then the knife hacking her hair off. The cut on her cheek stung. All she could do was to try and stay conscious. Upright. “Awful pretty." The Blade muttered, pleased. He grabbed another fistful of her hair and hacked it off, but this time Roen felt a burning pain as he took some of her scalp as well. She fell onto her hands and knees, trying to focus her vision. But her body screamed with pain everywhere, and her shaking hands and spinning senses would not allow her to mount any kind of a defense. What was it… kidneys, lungs… spine… Her thoughts swirled. She was unarmed against a stronger foe with a blade. There was no rock or dirt beneath her hands. She reached for the stone railing in hopes of trying to use it to pull herself to stand. "Yer lucky, Pinkie. Lucky the cap'n didn't say yes this time." The Blade slammed up against her from behind and put his knife to her throat with a speed that surprised her. Or was it she who had slowed? She could not tell. He leaned against her fully, his weight threatening to crush her against the rail. He robbed her of any remaining breath she had. "Next time, I bet he'll let me take whatever I want." She felt the blade then go close to her ear again, and with another sharp pull, he scraped off one last fistful of hair. He stepped back and laughed, even as she slid back to the ground at the release of his weight, gasping for breath. But the reprieve was short. He kicked her in hard in the ribs with his steel-toed boot. He held in his hand her unevenly hacked hair and bleeding bald-patched scalp with beady-eyed pride. He bent low to wave her bloody locks before her as she lay on the ground. She could only manage to curl her arms around her head and stomach when she saw another kick coming. Her senses barely registered the laughter and the wave from the Blade as he walked away leaving her on the stony ground of the Goblet, bleeding under the lamplight.

Broken Nose dismounted from his chocobo, his armored boots landing onto the dirt and raising a cloud of dust. He spat out the grassweed he had been chewing, his masked gaze going to the caravan that had come to a stop. Two other mounted Blades flanked each side of the wagon, and one gave Broken Nose a knowing nod. The Roegadyn grunted with satisfaction, then looked to his side where the newly recruited Sultansworn-turned-Blade came to join him. Her lips were drawn down in question. “You never know what could be smuggled into the Jewel of the Desert,” he said with a snarl as he made his way to the back of the caravan. He did not pay attention to the wagon driver at the front calling out whatever excuses they would always offer. He had learned to drown out the incessant pleas long time ago. He rounded the back of the wagon and gestured to Roen Deneith. “Search away, make sure nothing gets missed.” The red-headed hyur gave him another glance; though he could not see her eyes, there was clear uncertainty in her hesitation. That will be erased soon enough. Roen turned to look inside the wagon, and paused when two children waved at her. They were two young miqo’tes, furry ears flicking with curiosity and eyes wide with awe and already scrambling towards the edge of the wagon as the Brass Blades approached. Broken Nose only noticed them when the new recruit paused, extending a finger for them to grab onto. Broken Nose cleared his throat loudly, that it made the hyur woman stiffen. The adult female within the wagon offered words of apology as she gathered her giggling children back towards her. The new recruit waved at the children with a finger, before returning to the task of searching the various boxes. “I see nothing here of suspect…” she began to say when Broken Nose tossed a small pouch that landed on a box next to her. “What is that, recruit?” Broken Nose jutted his chin forward, crossing his arms. She paused, staring at the pouch. She glanced over her shoulder back to him, then picked it up warily and fingered it open. She sniffed it and the Roegadyn could see the frown under the mask. “It is somnus,” she said with a hint of disbelief. “Oh ho! Smugglin' in illegal contraband is grounds for arrest,” Broken Nose uncrossed his arms, approaching the wagon. He looked to the miqo’te woman within expectantly, hands going to his hips. “Of course, I can let you off with a heavy fine.” “Please. We are poor and have no gil to offer. Take anything you like from what we own. We came from afar with very little…” the mother began to plead and Broken Nose swore silently to himself. Gil was always easier to spend and exchange, not tribal goods, blankets, or clothing. He groaned until he spied something glimmering on the miqo’te’s neck. “How about that necklace you wear?” The mother gasped with her eyes wide, immediately tearing up. She shook her head with both hands wrapping around the gem that hung from her neck. “This is an heirloom! It is the only thing of value, I was going to sell it within the gates to afford lodging and food for the children until I can find a job…” Broken Nose began to shake his head, one hand extending towards the woman. “Pay the fine, or it’s the gaols.” “I-I think I was mistaken about this.” The recruit suddenly piped up, stepping in between the Roegadyn and the family within the caravan. She held up the pouch in front of him in her hand. It no longer held the somnus that he had filled it with before, it was filled with dirt that also rested on her open palm. It coated her gauntlet as if she had quickly scooped it up with her hand. Broken Nose’s eyes narrowed into slits immediately as he scanned the ground. Sure enough, there was a mark on the dirt where it was scraped up in a hurry, and another area where the dirt seemed to have been hastily kicked and brushed aside with a foot. He could not readily see where the somnus had been dumped in that mess. He growled. “Apologies, Miss…” Roen Deneith turned around and held up her hands to the miqo’te woman. “My mistake.” She tapped the side of the wagon loudly with her gauntlets and shouted to the driver in the front. “You are free to go! On your way!” The driver’s head popped out from the front of the wagon with clear surprise on his face. Broken Nose could see his eyes, as well as the eyes of those who flanked the wagon on their chocobo mounts on him, staring in disbelief. He frowned deeply. “Well what are you waiting for! On your way!” He bellowed. The miqo’te woman leaned against the edge of the wagon, offering strings of thanks and praise to them all, but Broken Nose heard none of it. He only glared at the back of the red-headed hyur, as she waved at the children who even now were jumping up and down with excitement, clueless as to what had just passed. Broken Nose wondered if the Sultansworn realized at all what she just did. He doubted it. But she would soon find out. This would not go over well with the Captain. This would not go over well at all.

Roen fidgeted with her mask. Captain Anden Anduron smirked from behind the desk, a glass of dark amber liquor in his hand, as he watched her adjust the Brass Blades turban on her head. “It’s a little crooked. Here let me, Sultansworn,” he snickered as he set the glass down and stood, reaching over and tugging at the mask. “Gratitude.” Roen stood still despite the fact that his hand seemed to linger a little too long on her mask and cheek, giving him a nod in thanks when he withdrew them. She still was squinting to adjust to the mask over her eyes, she could not understand how the Brass Blades worked with these on. Captain’s one pale eye narrowed in a sly smile, one finger tapping on the patch that covered the other eye. “I am spared the mask, I prefer to have this on.” He looked her up and down. “Why, in the chainmail and the turban, I’d never know there was a Sultansworn under there somewhere.” Roen nodded, looking over her new armor. The haubergeon was lighter than the plate-mail she was used to, but the way it hung from her shoulders, she still needed to get accustomed to it. Her hand came to pause on the large scimitar that hung from her hip. She unsheathed it, swinging it a few times in the air to test its weight. “Standard weapon for the Brass Blades.” Anden scratched his chin. “Are you familiar with the scimitar... Ser Deneith?” The pause before he spoke her title was obvious, with a veiled disdain in his tone. “Ah, just Roen. Please.” She offered him a polite smile. “And nay, I have not wielded these before.” “Well Roen, I’d advise getting familiar with them. We wouldn’t want you to seem out of place with the rest of us, mm?” He paused when she looked back at him, one corner of his lips crooked oddly; whether it was from contempt or amusement she could not say. “Best forget your days as Sultansworn while you are with us. You are a Blade now, you need to look and play the part.” Roen blinked, feeling her jaw tense at his words. Undoubtedly the reminder of her suspension stung, although it was more guilt than hurt pride that rose. Natalie had told her that it was the investigation into the fire at the Nanawa Mines and the resulting theft of the ceruleum core that resulted in their leave from the Order. Roen knew that had Natalie filed a timely report on the matter, perhaps some of this could have been avoided. But she had not, because she had let the members of the Ala Mhigan Resistance go. She had taken Roen’s word that her Master at Arms and his associates sought to bring no harm to Ul’Dah. Instead, Natalie had quietly turned her efforts into finding the thief, and retrieving the stolen core. But before wrongs could be righted, the theft, the fire, and what looked like a cover-up by the Sultansworns, were uncovered by the Immortal Flames. ‘We have enemies, Roen. Those that would like to see the Sultansworns fall. So rather than disgracing the entire Order, we need to take the blame for this.’ Natalie had said in a reassuring tone, no blame in her eyes. ‘We work for the Brass Blades through our suspension, and this will get sorted out.’ She had given Roen a small squeeze on the shoulder, as if to reassure her again that this was not her fault. She would not accept any more apologies. Roen straightened and nodded to Anden, the Captain who took it personally upon himself to orient her at the Brass Blades headquarters. “I am looking forward to serving as a Brass Blade, Captain.” A part of her knew this to be a demotion; Natalie’s furrowed brow had made it clear that this was something she should not be looking forward to. But despite their somewhat tarnished reputation, Roen believed that most of the Brass Blades did serve the good of Ul’Dah, protecting the citizenry as best they could. It was the Brass Blades after all--not Sultansworns or Immortal Flames--who tirelessly and thanklessly patrolled the streets of Ul’Dah. Captain Anduron arched a brow at her then chuckled low. “I think you actually mean that, Roen.” He stepped out from behind the desk, walking around her as if to examine her front and back. “It is not just looking the part, you need to learn how to work as a Brass Blade. We work as a tight unit. Trust amongst your fellow Blades is a must. What we do, we do as one. We cover each other’s backs. The strength of the Blades fails if even one of us falters.” Roen gave him a sidelong glance as he came back around. “Aye. The Sultansworns have a similar Oath, we stand shield to shield. We have faith in--.” Anden silenced her by putting a finger against her lip. Roen stiffened as he leaned in, ilms away from her face, his one eye narrowed with scorn. “Tsk. You are no longer Sultansworn now, remember? No Oaths here. Just loyalties to your fellow Blades. Understood?” “Aye. Captain.” She said sharply, trying not to obviously lean away. He answered her with a smile that rose too quickly and easily. “I am glad we have an understanding, Roen. You heed my words and we will get along just fine.” He glanced from her to the door as a large Roegadyn lumbered in. “Broken Nose! You are finally here.” He waved him over. Roen glanced over her shoulder then turned about face, as she looked up to the looming figure of the Roegadyn. She gave him a polite nod, recognition lifting her lips upwards. She had seen him patrol near Ruby Road many times. He answered her with a grunt, his one cheek bulging with grassweed he was chewing. “We have some new recruits! It seems a few Sultansworns will be gracing our ranks with their esteemed presence.” His tone just barely hid the ridicule. He stepped up next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps Roen here can follow you a bit? And you can take her out on a few caravan patrols outside the gates?” Broken Nose quirked a dark brow at the Captain, eyes darting between her and his superior. His chewing came to a pause. Anden smiled back at him, his hand still resting atop her shoulder. “Show her how things work, Broken Nose. She is one of us now. Best she learn the ropes quickly.” Roen managed the best smile she could, nodding in reassurance to the Roegadyn. “I am eager to learn.” Roegadyn narrowed his eyes, and exhaled with obvious disappointment. But he voiced no complaint in front of the Captain. He saluted to Anduron and turned back towards the door, motioning for her to follow. The Captain pat her back before she stepped towards the door. “Welcome to the Brass Blades, Roen Deneith.”

Wow. I think I will be posting on this thread WAY too often as RP happens... But off the top of my head, I wanted to thank Zachary Evans for the hilarious RP I watched/took part in when Roen met him for the first time. I was laughing on my side of the screen.

I love art! Free even better! Add me please!

I am looking forward to this!!

I don't recognize that guy.

Hm! Interesting RP survey! Roen loooooves garlicky things. Garlean garlic to be exact. Fish, meat, soup, all good with garlic. She also has a weakness for sweets. Chocolates, desserts and the like. She was raised on richly flavored foods prepared by well trained and skilled cooks. However in the last five years she has grown to enjoy simply prepared dishes, and only recently has she started to learn how to prepare food herself. They are turning out to be more edible of late. >.> She does not drink alcohol however. Rarely touches the stuff.

Good luck to you all! The story premise sounds fascinating, and I know Brynhilde is awesome! (probably the rest of you too... she's the only one I know) If I already had no FC to call home and was in non-NA time zone, I'd be knocking on the door with an application.

Jin may also want to meet with a certain Monetarist noble first, Jameson Taeros, especially if Jin is of the Garlean affiliation. He is the one that is pulling the strings of the three Sworn-turned-Blades at the moment and has associations of his own with the Empire. You are just loving this, aren't you :lol: .... Maybe. >.>

Jin may also want to meet with a certain Monetarist noble first, Jameson Taeros, especially if Jin is of the Garlean affiliation. He is the one that is pulling the strings of the three Sworn-turned-Blades at the moment and has associations of his own with the Empire.

Heya Masao! Welcome! If you enjoy RP through tabletop, AND have also written stories before, I think you will adapt to MMO RPing just fine. And feel free to post questions here too. People here are very friendly and welcoming. I know someone hopefully will post some links to lore and guidelines and all that...

That's part of what I was considering, too. The game makes it clear that Free Paladins are for all intents and purposes Sultansworn, but there is a difference between the PC role and the job title as it existed before you complete the job quest. It has been awhile since I went through the Paladin quest... but I believe there is a clear distinction between Free Paladins and Sultansworn. Being trained by Jenlyns does not automatically induct you into the ranks of the Sultansworn. He says so in one of his dialogues I believe. Sultansworns swear their fealty to the Sultana, whereas Free Paladins are free to roam all the lands, serving all the people of the realm. The Immortal Flames as an LS was set up for the law enforcement entities that exist in Ul'Dah. Erik was discussing this with me when he was setting it up with the leaders of the Yataghans (one of the Immortal Flame divisions). It was meant for those who serve as Sultansworns, Immortal Flame, and Brass Blades. Those who initially received pearls had official IC affiliations with either of these three organizations, but I don't see why Free Paladins trained under Jenlyns with loyalties to Ul'Dah would not receive one either if they too want to serve. I just wanted to throw that clarification in there.