Roen

Osric Melkire. Raandal Vance. Roen shook her head as she stood just outside of the Gates of Nald, rubbing her eyes with her hand. What a mess this was turning into. And all because she had trusted the wrong person. Delial. She had trusted the woman at the absolute worst time. She was there when Roen had gone to Little Ala Mhigo to search for clues of her grandmother’s heritage. She was there to lend a helping and always a reassuring word when Roen was faced with hostility and plagued with doubt. Especially after the Nanawa Mines, when she and the Sultansworns had faced off with the Resistance and her Master-at-Arms, Gharen Wolfsong--when the ceruleum core had gone missing and the mines had been set to flames, resulting in a destructive explosion. Natalie had let the Resistance go, not filing a report about it, instead letting Roen reassure her that the Resistance and Gharen had no intention of allowing any harm to come to Ul’Dah. The fact that Roen believed in Gharen without a sliver of a doubt was enough for Natalie to put the mine conflict to rest. She and Kayah instead had turned their efforts to quietly searching for The Rose, the likely culprit that got away with the core behind the curtain of chaos he had created through deception. And now, over two months later, when she thought that the matters of the mines had been put to rest, Osric Melkire, an Immortal Flames Sergeant came for her and Gharen, seeking out the truth of the incident. A witness had come forth who stated it was a Sultansworn cover up--and Delial was that witness. Only… Roen knew full well where Delial had gotten all her information on what had passed at the mines. "You ratted out y'own.” Osric’s words in that Drybone camp rang in her ears even now. He had removed his turban to impress upon her and Gharen the hatred and anger in his eyes regarding this matter. “The Sultanate is crumbling around our ears. Has been, since the ball. If the Syndicate gains power... if the Sultana is deposed...." "Ser Natalie and Ser Kiryuu are being accused of foul play." Osric’s accusation had burned itself into her memory. "You swore an oath. This is how you repay their kindness? By gutting the Sultana's best line of defense?" He had pressed his finger onto her chest to punctuate his anger. "I'm to uncover the truth o' what happened at the mines. If the 'sworn are innocent, I play knives with the Syndicate. If not... if not, it's the gaols for the Sultansworn. For the Resistance, the noose. I'm just one wheel. As I said, others will follow if I fall along the way. I'm your best shot." Those were his final words, the true reason he had sought them out. “So out with it. All of it. The whole story. Now.” So she had told him, all that had happened. The Rose, Cicero, even Delial’s garlean loyalties. A part of her regretted the last, for she knew if Delial was hard pressed, the woman might reveal what she knew about Roen’s own past. Roen let out a long exhale, her eyes squinting under the desert sun and through the dust-laden winds that swirled outside the Ul’Dah gates. Osric Melkire had already questioned Kage, and a few suns ago, the Sergeant under the guise of a Limsa Lominsan nobleman named Raandal Vance tried to bribe Natalie and got himself arrested. True to her word to the Sergeant, Roen had delivered the news of the arrest to Commander Swift with the words 'bluebird'. She heard the next morning that 'Raandal Vance' had been extradited to Limsa Lominsa with utmost efficiency, with Natalie none aware of the deception. Far as Roen knew, Natalie believed him to be a corrupt Lominsan noble looking to bribe a Sultansworn. And in arresting him she had passed Melkire's test. It was all part of the Sergeant’s investigation in trying to clear the Sultansworn’s reputation, to try and weed out corruption if any existed. He pressed upon her that he was being watched by the Syndicate, hence the need for subterfuge. For Natalie and Kage’s sake, Roen played along with the Immortal Flame, trusting in the Sergeant’s non-conventional methods. But one thing was clear. Roen needed to clear the names of the Sultansworn, for it was her naivete that had put it in jeopardy in the first place. Her trust in Delial had given the traitorous woman the names and facts she needed to bring suspicion to the Sultana’s Elite, and also had set the Blades onto the Resistance for the ceruleum theft. She needed to keep Gharen away and out of sight from the Blades, at least until this investigation was somehow closed again. Somehow she needed to make that happen. It started with finding Cicero. Her hand went to a piece of parchment she had tucked away in her belt pouch. She opened it, reading the address it contained. She needed to find Cicero. And the Core. And put this to rest before she put any more lives in danger. ((The events of the mine can be found here.))

Oh HO!!!

So Roen has gone fishing of late, which is unusual for the mostly serious girl... (and what's a fishing trip without pics!)

^

I wonder which one was worse... :evil:

"There are traitors in the Sultansworn! Gods save the Sultana. Criminals and traitors in the Sultansworn!" Roen had been cloaked, pausing at a vendor stall to pick up more supplies before she was to head out. That was when she heard the whispers. Her thoughts were lingering on her earlier encounter with Captain Jenlyns; it had gone not wholly different from what she had imagined. Her former trainer and the Captain of the Sultansworns had never looked upon her well since her departure during her training, and it was always evident every time they crossed paths since. Roen had told herself that she would prove herself worthy in his eyes, in the days to come. On the day that Natalie swore her in, she promised herself to make her and Captain Jenlyns proud. But the Spinner had other plans. Only weeks after becoming a Sultanworn, she was taking a leave of absence to attend to personal matters. She could not deny the need for it, nor would she neglect her family in this time of utmost need... But she felt guilty none the less. And now these whispers of corruption within the Sultansworn? Roen would easily dismiss such gossip and hearsay, especially within streets of Ul'Dah; theories of conspiracies and malfeasance were no strangers to her ears. But they were often directed at other entities, the Syndicate and the Brass Blades being likely targets. But on this day, it was directed at her own kin, the Sultansworn, and the whispers seemed to be just a little more prevalent. As if someone was gently stoking embers to a flame. And she could not ignore the fact that one of her own had been brutally attacked, and her own superior had fled the city to protect someone. Was there any weight to be given to these rumors? Roen nodded in thanks to the vendor who handed her a bag full of supplies. Paying him what gil she owed, she turned for the Gates of Nald. But as she passed the Quicksand, her steps slowed. Perhaps she would not travel far or for too long as she had planned. A leave from duty was needed to attend to the person she needed to, but she would stay close, for she could not leave her Sultansworn family behind either in their time of need.

Captain Jenlyns released a long exasperated sigh. He glanced at the parchment in front of him, his eyes squinted with annoyance. His finger tapped the back of the form as he held it, he knew full well what it was. He had seen it twice already in the last two weeks. First McBeef. Then Kiryuu. Now Deneith. "You too?" He finally broke the long silence that had fallen between him and the female Sultansworn standing before him. Roen Deneith nodded sharply, still standing stiff in attention. "Aye. Ser." "Family problems as well?" Jenlyns's voice was just barely maintaining a semblance of patience. The red-haired woman nodded. "Aye. Ser." The Sultansworn Captain took a long breath in through his nose, regarding the woman with deliberate scrutiny. He could see the dark circles that had appeared under her eyes and the grim bend to her brows. She looked tired and haunted. What harsh words he may have had for her, about how she had left before during her training, and now, only weeks after being sworn in, she was asking for more leave, and that he still harbored some doubts regarding her dedication to this path... He would save it for another day. "Leave granted." He handed the application back to her. "But know this. You will not gain much merit at this rate. It would reflect poorly upon you and your previous mentors, if you continue to show such little regard for your duties. You have been sworn in based on their testament of your dedication and worth." Jenlyns deemed this as a kind but stern warning, but it only seemed to weigh the woman down further. She nodded wordlessly, her gaze lowered. He sighed, "Turn in your application to the office, let them know you have my approval. And return as soon as you are able. Dismissed." Jenlyns watched her leave, turning his attention back to the paperwork in front of him with a patient exhale. But then he paused, looking back up to where she had exited. Since when did she have a brother?

I have no idea on my availability for this weekend. But if a time is announced, I will try my very best to be there.

A Moment’s Respite Roen sat at the edge of the cliff, her eyes looking out to the water. It shimmered under the night sky, the moon’s reflection a dancing white pool in the rippling dark sea. Her grey eyes followed a distant shooting star that streaked the dark canvas above, and as she watched it fade into the distance, she could not help but remember the last time she watched a shooting star. It was when she was ten, over the skies of Garlemald. She had managed to get herself onto the roof of her home -- after much coaxing since she was not fond of great heights -- and had spotted one: a streak of silver across the eastern sky. How beautiful she thought the sky was then. And it was under those stars that she declared that her path would be to knighthood. How naive had she been? Striving for knighthood within the Empire meant she would do all she could to protect the citizens of Garlemald, and through that, the world, for the Empire sought to protect the world in its ever-expanding embrace. But her ideals and patriotism were shattered like the lesser moon Dalamud that descended from another dark sky, its angry fire seeming to burn the heavens themselves. When she ran away from Carteneau that day, she also ran away from her beliefs, and all that she held dear. She lost her home and her beliefs. But when this day dawned, Roen had been prepared to go back. She was meeting with a Garlean agent who was to arrange for her transport back to the Empire in exchange for the safe return of Brenden Deneith. It did not go as intended. The members of the Ala Mhigan Resistance somehow learned of the Garlean spy within Thalanan and had interrupted their meeting. The man she had come with had come prepared, however, and had made his escape. Roen had not. She was knocked unconscious, and when she had come to, she was greeted with pains and aches... and a familiar voice. Gharen, her Master in Arms loomed over her. The face that she was often most eager to see was the one she least wanted to gaze upon now. But before she could explain why she was there, other members of the Resistance demanded to interrogate her. Gharen refused to turn her over. A fight ensued, despite her best efforts to stop them from doing so. After all, he knew nothing about her adoptive father being kidnapped, nor her intention to trade herself for his release. She did not want him turning against those he had allied himself with because of her mistake. But when the fight came to an end and tempers calmed, they finally listened to her -- even the young Highlander girl who had been brought to unconsciousness by the hand of Master Gharen. The girl, Daena, woke up furious, but held her tongue long enough to hear Roen’s plea for her father. Roen learned that the girl's father was Ruva Ghurn, the man who had fallen from the bridge at Nanawa Mines. Roen also learned that while the Resistance was ambushing the Garlean agent she was meeting with, an assassin had come and killed Ruva Ghurn at Lost Hope. The members of the Resistance who were there -- Hroch, Shaelen and Daena -- all remained suspicious of her, but… when she explained the events, and with Gharen Wolfsong’s support, they seemed to believe her story. And they agreed to help her rescue her father, who they guessed from the location he went missing that he may be in the Castrum in Western Thalanan. Daena even extended her hand to Roen at the end, and offered to help rescue him, in exchange for Roen’s help in whatever the Resistance needed. Desperate to help her father, Roen agreed. And now Roen sat by the cliffs on the Northern end of the Black Shroud, looking out to the sea, while her Master at Arms worked behind her to set up camp. He had brought her to one of his remote campsites to stay under the Garlean’s notice while the woman named Shaelen worked to obtain schematics and plans to Castrum Marinum. Since the exchange never happened, Roen was still a wanted woman by them. Perhaps by staying hidden, she could buy some time for Brenden Deneith, if they thought she was captured as well by the Resistance. Unless they assumed that the ambush was a planned treachery on her part… Roen lowered her head over her arms and rested against bent knees, finding the crushing weight of worry and dread for Brenden Deneith too heavy to bear. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out all of the events that had happened. Just yesterday she was standing in the ravine in Western Thalanan with Natalie... “What are ye thinkin’ lass?” Gharen broke the silence that had fallen. Roen glanced up behind her to her Master at Arms who had come to stand just behind her. A campfire was crackling behind them. She sighed. “I … passed.” She looked up at him wistfully. “I passed the Trials.” “For?” He arched a brow. “Sultansworn. I passed all the Trials. Yesterday was the last one.” She looked out to the dark sea forlornly. “I suppose that does not matter now.” "Why? Ye think they would nae accept ye?" He settled to a seat next to her. Roen blinked, looking at him. “Not after they learn where I was born.” "Who say's they're te know.” He shrugged. “An' worse case if'n they dinnae accept ye, tha' such a bad thing? Tis a title. An' one tha' binds ye at tha'." She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then gazed back out to the water. "I will gladly give up any title if it meant saving my family." She nodded to herself . "I still have my Oath. I can still serve." "Good, ye'd be a poor Sultansworn otherwise. 'Sides, no harm in bein' a lowly free paladin." Roen could hear a hint of sarcasm. "Able te serve all people rather than jus' those o' Ul'dah." Roen paused and looked back at him. “You are a free paladin.” He was the one who taught her some of her skills after all. “Aye. As part o' my training as a weaponsmaster, I follow tha' path." He nodded. “I think ye’d make a fine Sultansworn. But th' title carries with it many things, an oath tha' binds ye te th' word o' th' Sultana's fer one.” She sighed and rested her head on her arms again. “I will be lucky if I do not end up in the gaols. But after tonight, my future is the furthest thing from my mind, Master Gharen. Safety of those I care for takes priority. It is the reason I wanted to be Sultansworn in the first place.” She frowned, growing more sullen. “But instead I brought danger to their doorstep. Perhaps starting anew, was never meant to be. Perhaps you cannot run from your past.” "Oh come on now. Tis nae so bad. We'll wrestle yer da out from under them soon enough. An ye don' need some fancy title like Sultansworn te do tha'." Roen blinked, looking back at her mentor, some of her darkness fading. "If you say we will, then I will believe in that. He saved my life. I will do the same." He grinned back at her, lightening the mood. "Good. Sides how many o' th' stuffed n' shiny armor wearing folks in there can say they raided a Castrum an’ walked away? T'will be fine." Roen’s lip twitched, suppressing a smile. "Aye." She nodded, as if to herself. "Alrigh' then. We best get yer sword and armor ready.” He stood, extending her a hand. “Cannae send ye in there jus' armed with harsh language." Roen blinked again, accepting his hand in getting to her feet. “I… would wield that poorly, I imagine.” She could see amused lines appearing around the corner of his eyes as the fire crackled beside them. "Aye, t'would be entertain'n te behold I bet." Roen almost chuckled. After a pause, she met his eyes squarely. “Thank you,” she murmured, for all the things she could not say. He regarded her thoughtfully. "I can understan' why ye dinnae say anythin' but I really wish ye had told me." When she furrowed her brows in shame, he gave her a look of reassurance. “Jus, no more surprises fer th' time bein' okay?” Roen nodded, lowering her gaze. They walked back to the campfire, and as he readied the tents, she attended to her armor and sword that she had retrieved from Ul’dah. She laid the cobalt winglet across her lap as she held the whetstone in her hand, and studied the reflection of the fire against the finely crafted sword. “This is a fine blade, Master Gharen. I thank you.” "Yer welcome lass. If anythin' ye deserve it." Gharen looked over his shoulder as he propped up a canvas of tanned leather for shelter. “I did nothing to deserve it.” She shook her head. “I only seem to bring trouble to those I care for.” "...Ye worry too much lass. Ye know tha?" Roen blinked. “Do I?” Gharen continued to set up the tent, hammering spikes into the ground to anchor some ropes. “Aye. There are some things ye cannae do anythin' about. Where yer born is one o' those things, what matters is what ye decide te make o' it and what ye do with yer life.” She pondered that for a moment. “And what do you want to do with your life, Master Gharen?” she asked, paused in her task, watching him. "Used te be simple.” He shrugged. “Get by day te day, an' become a greater Ala Mhigan weaponsmaster than my Guardian claimed te be." He tugged on the rope to test the tension, the tanned leather canvas held aloft above their heads. He turned back to her. "Now? Tha's nae quite so important. Bein' a good an decent individual's th' goal." A smile rose to her lips. “That is a worthy goal.” She began to work the whetstone against the blade, sharpening the edges. "Strivin' fer tha, was my trainin' te become a paladin. Nae always easy, but bein' decent an' good te others certainly helps." He tied the last corner of the canvas, the rope winding around a trunk of a thick tree. "But other than the ways of a shield and sword, being a paladin is..." She paused. "It is a path. And not an easy one. I am still struggling with it.” "Aye, one ye ultimately decide te walk on yer own. Was nae easy, if'n tha's what ye think.” Gharen sat down next to her and reached into a pouch to pull out a light blue soul stone. “When I received this, I had nae prayed te th' twelve in many cycles. Afterwards? I cannae count how many times or how many rivers I almost threw this inte." Roen blinked. “It was given to you?” Gharen continued to study the small stone in his hand, rubbing his thumb over it. He was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Before we’d met, a friend o’ mine had gotten ill, and I left lookin’ fer a cure in Coerthas. I was wounded after fightin’ a pack o’ wolves one night and was stranded in a cave by a blizzard. I thought I was goin’ to die there, so in th’ dirt o’ the cavern floor, I made symbols of Halone and Azyema and said a prayer fer my friend.” He glanced to the campfire, where the flames were dancing against the wind. “I passed out after tha’ and sometime later I woke te find a fire started an’ my wound mended. A man was there, he asked me who I’d prayed for, an I told him. Cannae recall much else… but I passed back out soon enough. When I came to, he was gone an’ had left this behind.” He held out the stone as if to show her. Roen blinked, staring at him then the stone. “He was a paladin then.” "Mayhaps, although there be no sign o’ him the day after. Fer a time I wondered if'n I was crazy an dreamed it all.” He let out a chuckle. "It took a lot o' lookin' inside myself an more'n a few visits te th' Sanctum o' th' Twelve to find th’ path. But in order te walk the path o’ th’ Dragoon and th’ Paladin, I needed to find th’ acceptable balance. ” He tucked the stone away. "It has nae been... easy te say th' least." “I see…” she pondered. “If anyone has the will and strength to find peace and balance, I would trust that would be you, Master Gharen." "Well, I thank ye lass.” He glanced up at the drumming of heavy raindrops against the leather shelter above them. “Places like this help… when o' course it's nae droppin' a torrent o' rain upon ye." And as he predicted, the raindrops quickly turned into a stormy downpour, the stars having escaped behind thick black clouds. Roen closed her eyes and breathed in the wet air, listening to the rainfall. She always could take some measure of comfort in the rain, heavier the better. “I like the rain,” she said quietly. “It reminds me of her.” “O’ who?” “My mother,” Roen stared out into the rainstorm. “She smelled of lavender, and sung me lullabies when it rained.” A wistful sigh escaped her lips. “Not all Garleans are monsters,” she added, and looked back at her mentor. His gaze upon her was warm. "Course, if'n I thought that I'd nae have started a fight back in th' cave. Problem is perception.” “Aye.” Roen nodded, and offered him a meek smile."I did not want to cause trouble for you. I am glad they listened. Eventually.” "Tis fine. Though I'd prefer next time I'm tryin' te defend ye," he grinned. “Don' turn yourself over." Roen frowned ruefully. “I thought that would stop them from attacking you.” She rubbed at the side of her head where that ache had returned with the cold. Gharen narrowed his eyes, then stood, setting out a bedroll near the fire. “Ye’d best try and get some sleep lass. That’s goin’ te be a hell of a knot when ye awake.” He then crouched by the campfire to stoke the flames. “Go on, sleep. We got a big day ahead o’ us tomorrow.” Roen set her sword aside and curled into the bedroll set out her for. Her eyelids were growing heavy as soon as she laid her head upon the ground. She had not realized how exhausted she was. “Sleep well, lass,” she heard him say, as sleep took her.

Oh my goodness. What a fantastic Wiki. I MUST hunt you down. Yes, yes I must.

How I joined my current FC and the one before that (I only left because the leaders all went on hiatus and it was a small FC and not much of us were left) was that I looked for FCs that would fit where I wanted my character to be IC wise. Night Blades at the time were not actively recruiting, I saw no shouts or yells, nor any posts in the forums about it. I just scanned through the FC/LS section, and they were one of the two that attracted my attention. Once I decided they were a good fit and visa versa, then the IC reason came about. If you enjoy RP, definitely you need to consider that as one of the major factors in joining an FC. It just makes it a better fit and you will be happier for it. But purely looking for it IC wise, you may have a harder time finding one.

Welcome Wolf Paw! Happy to have you among us! Hm hm, heavy roleplayer who likes to plot eh...? I look forward to meeting ya. :thumbsup:

*waves!* You know, I've seen your character like three times now and I went "Hey, I know that name!" Usually I've been busy plotting in chat or C&P RP log... >.< You play an a-hole character eh? Lovely... :thumbsup: One of these days, I WILL have Roen just crash right into you. One of these days.

If I pass by someone who is emoting something by themselves, I am always tempted to pause and watch them a bit. Or emote something myself if I wasn't already. It DEFINITELY makes them more approachable if you ask me. It's like a neon sign that says "HEY! I AM AN RPer!"

Welcome to RPC and to Balmung! I liked your character intro/info and I am now curious on what happened to her father! If you need a little practice, I'd be happy to ablige, although really there is no one way of doing things. Everyone has their style! Look forward to seeing you in game!

I want in! I should be around Saturday afternoon. Today, I am on call so.. who knows?

CURAGA!!!! :love: Much looove!!!

The Ball was fantastic!! I had SOOOO much fun! My only regret is that I didn't get to talk long enough to many that I wanted to, and I didn't have the opportunity to interact with so many that I didn't know. AND Roen did not get to dance. And I know I missed SO MUCH due to the wild scrolling. THANK YOU to everyone who organized this event. You all were fantastic. Nanamo's presence and personality also just added that little something extra. Good job!

Roen closed the door to her room in the Quicksand, her back resting against it as the lock clicked quietly behind her. She arched her head back, her eyes closing, as the silence of the room fell around her like a cloak. She only had a few bells before the Royal Ball was to start, when she would be called upon to perform her duties of assuring the Sultana's safety. Could she do it? Report to duty, stand next to the Sultana, watch those gathered in their fanciful garb and gowns, dancing and drinking merrily... and pretend nothing was amiss? "You must not let on that I told you this. That we even met. Nothing must seem amiss." Delial had said when they met above Drybone many suns ago. When the Highlander had brought her a grisly gift, and even darker news. Since that day, Roen had been walking about in a trance. Natalie had sworn her in as Sultansworn, but on that day when she should have felt nothing but joy, she could only struggle to keep afloat, to breath, to keep up appearance that nothing was amiss. And today would be no different. She had to look and act normal. Else the consequence would be something she could not bare. Inhaling deeply, Roen opened her eyes and pushed off from the door, her eyes going to the bed where her Sultansworn tabard and armor awaited her. But next to the armor also awaited a box, fancifully wrapped in an ornate silk ribbon. It had a single carnation laid upon it. Roen studied the box with a confused frown, lifting the single carnation before her eyes. Surely this was a mistake. She had received someone else's delivery. But when she pulled the ribbon loose and opened the box, a note laid there upon a neatly folded ornate white and gold dress. Grey eyes narrowed as she read the elegant writing on the note: A gift of beauty and elegance for an aspiring knight.

I will echo the the great advice given above. OOC communication is very important. Now, not always will things work out the first few times around. I know I exchanged PMs with a few people here and things just didn't work out to us getting together for any arcs. But I like Zhavi's three strike rule! It gives you some leeway and room for patience. Because sometimes it's just bad timing if things don't work out, not any fault on either side. Not to say that spontaneous RP will never lead to lasting connections, because in my experience it has as well. But I consider that pure luck. I have ran into PLENTY of people where I saw their RP emote, I wanted to play with them, but I was doing something else or whatnot and it didn't happen. That's when scheduling things ahead of time works best. I have made some luck PMing people here too, on the RPC. I would definitely suggest that since in game people are often busy doing something, running dungeons and other RP stuff. At least while reading a PM, you know you have their full attention. Also it sounds like you have an active SL going with at least one of your alts? The one going to the ball? Maybe use that character and their circle to start entwining it with another character of yours? Just some suggestions. Good luck!

Server opens up to new players at odd hours. So if you want to give Balmung a try, keep at it! You will get in soon enough. As for my own personal experience with RP in Balmung, it's been overall positive. I attribute it partly to luck, I just randomly ran into people who were good RPers and joined an FC that encourage storytelling and arcs, and I also proactively sought out people that I saw on RPC to play with them. So persistence, patience, and a little bit of luck, I think you will find some good RP in either both Gilgamesh or Balmung.

Aaaah! I am sorry I missed this. Although Rae would not have been much of a contributor to the fight, the plots! Sounds like there were some good developments though. Hopefully Rae will catch up with Kiht soon enough.

This post follows the events from this post. Bitter Ashes Roen threw the drawers open, snatching up her tunic and breeches, and threw them haphazardly onto the large bag that awaited on the bed. Her eyes darted around the room, wide with panic. She ducked under the bed, pulling out a pair of leather boots; if there was walking to be done, she would need them. She stood, and her eyes caught sight of the white and blue embroidered fabric that still laid on the bed: her Sultansworn tabard. Roen found her breath caught, her body unable to move. What was she doing? Was she really worried about walking through the desert? Did it really matter what she put into that bag? In a flash of anger she threw the boots in her hand across the room, knocking plates from the table. The dish crashed to the wooden floor, the glass shattering. Roen cared not. She crumpled, sinking to a seat on the floor, her head buried in her hands. They had her father. Ana Deneith had found Roen in Western Thalanan, just as she was returning from her Trial of Courage, to relay the shocking news. Roen had bid farewell to them that morning, kissing young Brenna and Brayden on the forehead and embracing Ana and Brenden warmly. Brenden had been treated by the royal physicians of the court suns before, and he was feeling stronger. He felt well enough to return to their home in Southern Thalanan; the medical corps had done their job well. But the Deneith family never completed the journey. They were set upon by Garleans who materialized seemingly out of thin air in the middle of the desert, and were taken away. From Ana’s harried description of the events, Roen surmised that they were teleported away and taken to a Castrum. Ana, a farmer by trade and the wife of a simple merchant, did not know which Castrum it was, only that she had been surrounded by large, dark, frightful machines, and technology she was not familiar with. What Ana Deneith did understand, however, was what they wanted. Why the family was taken. The Garleans made their demands clear to her when they let her and the children go: releasing them was their sign of good faith and willingness to let her father go eventually. But the only thing that would free Breven Deneith was Roen herself. She would need to trade herself for Brenden Deneith. She would need to return home. To Garlemald. When Ana told her this, the woman’s brown eyes were fixed on to Roen, unflinching. Her gaze held sadness and despair, but also unbidden accusation. Ana never voiced it, but Roen knew. She had always known. Roen believed as much, even as they took her in for all those years after the Calamity, they never asked where she had come from. But her armor, her uniform, her foreign accent… they knew. But they did not care. Brenden never cared where she had come from, only that she was in need of a home. And now the man that saved her life, who made her part of his family, were in the hands of the people who had brought death and destruction upon the land Roen now called home. Her adoptive father was being held by her birth father’s people, demanding for his daughter return home. How naive was she to think that her past had been forgotten? That Dorien van Luraes had forgotten about her? That where she had grown up, the army she illegally joined, the fact that she was from a land that all of Eorzea considered their one true enemy? She was foolish to think it didn't matter. It did. All of it. And now it had caught up to her. Now the life of Brenden Deneith was at stake, and she was the one who had put him in harm’s way. It was up to her to see him freed, even if it meant her own freedom. Roen stared at the pile of her belongings, haphazardly thrown onto the bag on the bed. She looked to the blue tunic, the tights, and the dress shoes. Erik had given them to her many moons ago, telling her she needed to step out of her armor every so often. Then there was the longsword, the hilt made of mohagony with an ivory falcon taking flight set upon it. It held a beautiful and fine cobalt blade that had been meticulously hammered and smoothed; the sword given to her by her Master in Arms. And the white and blue royal tabard and armor, laid out next to the sword on the bed, granted to her through the trials of becoming a Sultansworn--trials she had completed a short few bells ago. She was packing them away, as if to bring them back with her to Garlemald. To bring something to remember them by, all those who mattered to her. But as Roen continued to stare at the contents on the bed, the things that spoke of love and friends here in Eorzea, her breath slowly left her, her chest sinking with the realization. She would not say goodbye to them. How could she? What would she say? Could she bare the look of shock, anger, and maybe even hatred in their eyes when she told them where she was going and why? Natalie had said time and again how she would happily run a sword through any Garlean she came across. Each time she said it, Roen felt her blood run cold, but she had never intended on the Sultansworn finding out about her past. It was a thing of history, it mattered not to the friendship they had forged. And yet were the truth to ever come out… Roen doubted that Natalie’s hatred for Garleans would remember who Roen had been for the many moons they have known each other. Natalie had always been about duty, and duty would call upon her to arrest her apprentice who had been lying about who she was. And even if Natalie and the others could see beyond her place of origin, no Sultansworn would ever have a Garlean apprentice. The ranks of the Sultansworns would not accept Roen's past, even if her friends and mentors did. And the consequence of that would ripple beyond just Roen herself. It would fall upon everyone she knew; it would cast a traitorous shadow upon all who cared about her and called her friend. Roen could not allow that. Pushing herself from her knees, she finally rose from her seat upon the ground, making her way to the broken plate on the floor. As she gathered the scattered bits of glass, she also took a cloth napkin to grab up the half eaten marmot steak that had fallen. Roen paused at it as she looked to the cold brown meat, recalling the night when she was taught how to cook it by Master Gharen. Her fingers tingled with the memory; she had accidentally burned herself, and remembered how he had held her hand as he wrapped it with a cool cloth and an ice crystal. She could not say goodbye to him either. Not after he had forgiven her for all that happened at the mines. Not after he then gifted her with the sword that he had forged during their talk. That very thought twisted her stomach and robbed her of her breath. The thought of leaving him, and her friends, never to see them again... It brought an emptiness she had never felt before. Pinching her face, she refused the tears that threatened to rise, instead steeling herself with resolve as to what must be done. I have to. All that was left was to meet with the Garlean agent, to negotiate her return to Garlemald for Brenden Deneith’s freedom. She was told that she was being watched, as were her friends and the Sultansworns. She was told that if she dared to inform anyone or to gather help, the contact would cease and Brenden’s life would be forfeit. And she was given only two suns to prepare. Roen carefully set the remnants of the broken plate and food wrapped in a cloth napkin onto the table. She looked to the contents on the bed again. It would all remain here, all the things that brought her joy and hope in this new land. She would leave her new life behind to return to the old. All that would be left were the bitter ashes of sweet memory. Roen pulled her cloak tight around her and walked out of the room.

I am with Sophia. I love the name. If you ever see me running around, feel free to bump into Roen.

I too love the character concept! We definitely need more crime family representation in Ul'Dah.