Roen

^ This! At least that's how I feel and enjoy the game. But Kage, you are not me, and perhaps the endgame progression is a large part of your enjoyment. It sounds like you are looking for a static coil group and is perhaps looking for an FC that would provide that. So if you leave your current FC, then definitely look for an FC that may have space for you, else I think you may feel all this was for naught. As for RP... you don't have to look to your FC to provide RP! You are already in one LS that has plenty of RPers! My first FC, while it was RP oriented which is what drew me there, was very small and intimate, and I was often left to my own devices to seek out my own RP. And I met plenty of folks that way! My current FC loves to RP so I am in a happy place, but even in between FCs, RP was never in question. You just gotta go look for it. Or create your own. You know I would help!

Roen is certainly going to be surprised.

I am glad to see you stepping up, Kiht! You are going to be FINE at this. You don't need experience to run SLs or LSs, just a lot of motivation! And a little bit of patience. As with anything else in life. With that pep talk out of the way, let me know if there is anything I can do to help. While Rae is not an IC leader for this since well, she very reluctantly accepted the linkpearl from Vairemont in the first place. I am sad to hear that he seems to be no longer involved though. Alas. RL sometimes takes over. Or our muse just withers away. Who knows? But I certainly do want to support you in this effort. Rae does have her hands in a few other cookie jars though, so I always expected her to be a peripheral character in this storyline. I didn't have a storyline arc planned for her with the Ishgard, I was going to see what gaps were left after people started, and see if the she would fit in those gaps in anyway. Still. Let me know what I can do. I suggest first though that you see how many are still interested, get a new LS (I never created one myself so I have no idea how you do that other than go see the LS merchant), invite them there then have a pow wow brainstorm. Or just brainstorm here since getting everyone on at the same time to discuss live on LS could be hard too. Does anyone want to play the assassins hunting out ex-patriots? Anyone want to play the hunted vs hunter? Or any other character in that plot? Was there to be an IC meeting of the minds on the LS? What would be the next step in this storyline? ONE person driving the storyline while everyone waits for that person to do their thing is not going to work, that might be what Vairemont ran into, I don't know. But that's too much to put on one person. It works best if you have cooperative storytelling, with multiple people willing to take different parts in that story. So people should maybe pipe in on what their ideas may be, or what parts they want to play. The next step should be beyond "I want to be involved" to "this is my idea." And see if the ideas can all gel together to create something fun. That's where I would start.

Allies and Enemies "She's a beauty, eh?" Shaelen Stormchild crossed her arms as she stepped up next to him, her face shining with pride. Aylard studied the small ship before him, his deep set eyes squinting under the desert sun. The skiff seemed ordinary to an uncaring eye, but he could see that it was small enough not to attract the attention of pirates, yet well made and weather worn enough to have seen more than its share of voyages through the seas. Peregrine was one of the smaller ships docked in Vesper Bay, but from the way Shaelen spoke of it, one would think none others mattered. "Is she fast?" He stepped forward onto the dock and turned to face the captain of the ship, the woman he has known since she was a child. Shaelen arched an eyebrow at him. "Fast? Peregrine here can outrun the best of Limsa Lominsa's battleships! Isn't that right, Shooey?" The woman looked over her shoulder as a tall looming figure came to stand behind her. Aylard glanced to the enormous roegadyn and was greeted with a bright, toothy grin. Aylard knew the dark-skinned roegadyn's chosen name was "Thaliak's Axe," and he preferred to be called "Axe" by his close friends. But Shaelen called him "Shooey" for reasons unknown to the Highlander - a remnant nickname from his past life, perhaps, but Aylard did not know. (Shaelen never said, and Axe wasn't talking about it - mostly because Axe had no tongue and did not talk at all, save for a grunt or growl here or there, or the occasional temperamental roar.) Axe let out an affirmative grunt and nodded in agreement with the Highlander woman who stood in front of him, her head just reaching the roegadyn's midchest level. The old man raised a skeptical bushy brow at both of them. "Faster than a Limsa Battleship. That I have to see to believe." "Well, I only have to prove it if we are caught, ol' man." Shaelen smirked. "And that's the point, isn't it? Not to get caught?" She stepped toward him, leaning in. "The speed comes from something special. But we will keep that between us, eh?" She winked at him, her chestnut bangs falling over her mischievous blue-grey eyes. Aylard shook his head at her. "You've not changed one bit, lass." He regarded her contemplatively, one hand scratching his bearded chin. "Reckless." "I prefer ... bold. Or daring!" "Whrf!" Axe chimed in behind her. It sounded like a purr from a four-hundred ponze coeurl. "Daredevil!" She looked at Axe and gave the roegadyn an agreeing thumbs-up. "I like that one." When he answered her again, this time with a low snarl, she wrinkled her freckled nose. "Kooky madcap? Who you callin' kooky?" Axe yowled with laughter, his massive frame bouncing. Aylard's expression softened, lines appearing around his aged eyes. He had known the two for years, and the friendship they shared seemed unwavering as ever. And Shaelen still seemed to be the only one that understood the various noises that came from the tongueless roegadyn. "As long as she's fast and gets the cargo where it needs to go, that is all I need to hear." Shaelen turned back to Aylard, nodding with confidence. "Don't add more worry wrinkles to your forehead, ol' man. You can't afford to get any more lines on ya." Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of affection there. "It'll get there. I am good at what I do." She was. Aylard knew this already. It was why he sought her out in Ul'dah. Shaelen was no longer with the movement; she had left years ago to chase her ambitions of fortune. But she always had an eye for opportunities, and a knack for getting in and out of places undetected, even when she was young. And now, as a woman nearing thirty winters in age, she had gained a reputation within the underground that she could transport things across the borders of the Empire. This was not a trek many were willing to make. And she charged a near fortune for it. But this particular cargo was special. A stolen ceruleum core from Northern Thalanan, one so refined that it fit in the palm of Aylard's hand yet held enough energy within that when unleashed it could demolish a large Garlean facility. It would be a powerful weapon for the Resistance. Aylard needed someone reliable to get it back to Ala Mhigo, and Shaelen was the most reliable smuggler he knew. The Resistance would pay the fortune she asked, and gladly so. "I looked over the papers," she continued. "It should get us through the Flames at the port." Shaelen stepped up next to him and shot Axe a pointed look; the massive roegadyn turned to face the center of Vesper Bay, giving them cover behind his broad back. Her voice was kept low, easily drowned out by the vender shouts off the port. "I could have gotten these myself." "Alabrous could get it faster." Aylard narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. He always had an uneasy feeling whenever Alabrous Tane was involved, but much like his need for Shaelen Stormchild and her ship, he also needed Tane's unique services. Only difference was that Aylard trusted Shaelen. "Al?" The highlander woman cocked an eyebrow and gave a snort. "How did you get that slimy spawn of an eft to come back to the fold?" "He didn't. He's like you, lass. Loyalty bought with gil." That was not entirely true, Aylard would never question Shaelen's loyalty once agreement was made. But he still remembered the day when Shaelen left the cause. And it still stung. Sometimes he had to remind himself he no longer begrudged her for it. Stormchild paused, her eyes fixed on her ship, her long bangs hiding her gaze from the old man. If she was irked by his words, she hid it well. When she turned back to him, it was with her usual smirk in place. "I hope you didn't pay him the fortune you offered me. He ain't worth it." Aylard turned his head to the shorter highlander. "He knows what his service is worth. And asked for double." "Ha! He's losing his touch! I would have asked for thrice the amount." It was the old man's turn to snort. "Aye. And I would have paid it." His eyes crinkled with amusement, which was rare. "And I told him so." That sent Shaelen into a fit of laughter, tossing her head back. "That probably still gnaws at his crotch." She sighed, shaking her head. "Well, he has his contacts alright. The documents are quality. And I looked them over carefully too. Al is always looking to short change people to his advantage, if he can." Aylard nodded. "He hasn't turned us in yet." "Probably because you told him you would have paid him more." Shaelen grinned. "You whet his appetite for the next score. Well done, ol' man." "These papers will get our cargo past the Immortal Flames and out of Thalanan after we will meet up for the exchange," Aylard said, glancing to a lalafell at the nearby vendor table, dark eyes exchanging a look with the merchant there. He glanced behind him to spot a few mercenaries who had approached within earshot. He narrowed his eyes and began to casually walk toward the docks, as if to take closer look at the ocean. Shaelen fell into step behind him without a word although Axe did not. The roegadyn lumbered closer to the group of mercenaries, who were now giving him a wary eye. "There also has been word that we are being sought after," Aylard said in his low gravelly voice as they reached the end of the dock, the lapping waves drowning out his voice. "There have been inquiries made in Little Ala Mhigo. Someone looking for a father and son." Shaelen bent down at the edge of the pier, squinting her eyes towards the water as if to spot any fish. She pointed at nothing in particular and looked over her shoulder at Aylard. When he bent to his knees, she lowered her voice even more. "Garlean? Or Immortal Flames?" "I am not sure, lass. It was a Highlander doing the asking, although there were others with him, another Highlander and a Midlander, both women. The cargo is hot. Both would be after it. Although I don't think the Flames have been made aware of it... yet." "Are you bringing backup for this exchange, just in case?" Shaelen crouched low, her eyes still on the rise and fall of the waves. She rested her elbows on her knees. "Aye. I have the Ghurns and m'boy, Hroch." Aylard shifted slightly, ignoring the cracking protests from his right knee. "Ruva Ghurn?" Shaelen raised her brows, turning to him. "He's back in the fold. Huh. I've not met him, but ... I know of him." Aylard remembered how Shaelen liked to know everyone who she was potentially dealing with. "Anyone else?" "And one other. He's capable." Aylard nodded, his deep set eyes squinting again. "Can we trust him?" Her voice was low but determined. "I need to know this exchange is going to be secure." "Wolfsong. I knew his family. His blood. I can speak for him." Aylard turned to meet her eyes steadily. She regarded him a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. They rose together. Shaelen patted him on the shoulder, flashing him a grin. "Well, good seeing you again, ol' man! As always! You still owe me that tankard of ale! Maybe next time at Black Brush." she said boisterously. He nodded to her and they parted ways. Aylard remained at the end of the pier until Shaelen rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, Thaliak's Axe soon after. The mercenaries he had spied earlier also seemed to have gone their own way. Reassured that their conversation was not overheard, Aylard began to make his way out of Vesper Bay, returning to Ul'dah. The impending journey back north preoccupied his thoughts, the possibilities of what waited them beyond giving his aging body a burst of excitement. The ceruleum would open many more possibilities to the Resistance, and with the kin of Windmark agreeing to join them on their return back to Ala Mhigo... Old blood would surely call more to their cause. The Windmark name would lend them strength, as would any of the old blood who had stood for Ala Mhigo but had fallen to the wrath of the Tyrant King, or forced to kneel before the might of the Empire. It was time to gather their strength again, to remember the pride that used to run strong in their veins and retake their home. It was with such hope that Aylard approached Fresca's Wash, the Highlander pausing to squint at the distant horizon as the day was coming to a close. He had not appreciated the beauty of the setting sun for as long as he could remember, and he tried to recall what the last sunset looked like in his homeland. And it was on the gold and red painted canvas that his attention remained, that he did not notice the long elongated shadow grew next to his from behind. It was only when a purring voice greeted him that he turned, and his eyes widening at the face he saw smiling at him. "Haven't we been busy?" It was not the woman he had expected to find. "You...!" was the only word that escaped from Aylard before his breath was choked out of him.

I love the sketch on the character profile page! Welcome!

These are cool, Jace!!

Well. some people if they HATE their name or something, use the server transfer, create dummy character, then transfer back option to get their name changed. It does cost money though. Do you also know about the random name generator for FFXIV? It could just give you some ideas.

Hi Ben! Welcome to the RPC! I am glad you already PMed folks and got a lot of info, so I won't do the whole general info thing. (Other people are WAY better than me anyways) As for feedback on what characters/roles are needed... well, it really depends on what storyline you want to join. I don't think there is one character type that are in need universally. Although I will say that the characters I have RP'ed with the least are Roegadyns. But that being said, I myself rarely look to play with a character race, but to see if the character mesh with mine and can be incorporated into a story. Just create a character that you want to play, and be flexible to incorporate them into an ongoing story should you come across one that interest you! That would be my advice. There are plenty of RP to get involved in in Balmung (Not that there isn't for Gilgamesh, I can only speak of the server I am in!), either through random walk ups or PMing folks if you like what you see in their wiki or posts. I've done both and I can say I've had lots of fun! Don't be shy about PMing folks either (although I see you've already been doing that... YAY!) about getting something started, I've done that a LOT too and it's always been very well received. People here are so nice! I hope you find some good RP and have fun!

"Another letter for you,kupo!" Little did Roen know when she took the gold-gilded blue envelope from the mail moogle, the contents it would hold within. She read it thrice before she put it down, disbelief slowly giving way to excitement and trepidation. Sultansworn. The letter was asking her intent to become a Sultansworn - the very reason she came to Ul'dah! How could her answer be anything other than a very enthusiastic Yes? Just the smallest bit of pause was given when she sat down to write a formal response, however. Other than the fact that the letter would be read by Her Grace Nanamo Ul'namo, Roen recalled something her friend Nazeru had said. Naz was a Free Paladin, and she was free to follow her heart as long as she held to her Oath. She told Roen that the Sultansworns were instead bound by Oath to the Sultana. But from all that she had seen of the Sultansworns, Roen believed that the Sultana only had the wellbeing of her people in mind - and her people included her adopted family, the Deneiths, who had saved her life. And she considered herself an Ul'dahn. To serve Ul'dah would be to serve her family, and the people she saw every day. Her hand was still frozen above the page, unable to begin. It was partly from fear. This letter would be read by Her Grace, Nanamo Ul'namo herself. Roen was never comfortable with the written word, especially since she was not a native to Eorzea. Would she appear overenthusiastic through a clumsy choice of words? She sought out Natalie first, who answered her with a delighted laugh and an embrace. Her advice was simple: Be honest, and speak from the heart. Her heart still felt as if it was being constricted by chains of apprehension, however, she could not just write how she felt. This letter needed to be perfect. Luckily, Roen ran into Siben Farnesworth, who himself boasted that his loquacious nature gave him a robust vocabulary. That was good enoughfor her. He had more than a few fancy words to offer, and she eagerly accepted his help. Roen sat at the desk within her room in the Quicksand, her eyes scanning the letter she had written in response. It was written with a careful hand. She may not be good in choosing the words, but at least her calligraphy had always had been praised by her teachers. She read the words over again, hearing Siben's voice in them. It sounded intelligent. Highbrow almost. Was it her? And was it honest? Roen paused before signing her name at the bottom. She wrote the letter again, from the beginning.

New Beginnings "Look what we have here! A new letter has arrived, just for you, Kupo!" Roen Deneith smiled as she accepted the letter handed to her by the mail moogle. Her gray eyes lingered on the tiny flying creature, for it was still an exotic thing to her, this moogle; she had never seen one before arriving on Eorzea, and they still perked her curiosity. White and furry, with small pointy wings that in proportion should not be able to support the weight of the creature's round head much less its entire body, the little thing hovered up and down, seemingly fighting the weight of the large red bag full of mail that hung on one shoulder. It cheerfully dispensed letters to those gathered around the Ruby Road Exchange, seemingly indefatigable. Roen saw the writing on the envelope and stepped away from the gathered crowd, her fingers carefully opening the letter. It was from her adoptive father, Brenden Deneith. She scanned the letter quickly, a smile widening her lips. He was finally coming to Ul'dah, coming to see the royal healer that Natalie, the Sultansworn that was in charge of her training, had arranged for him. And he was bringing the entire family to the capital city as well: his wife Ana, and their two children, Brenna and Brayden. Roen clasped the letter to her chest and grinned. Finally, she thought to herself. Finally her adoptive family would arrive in Ul'dah, and Brenden Deneith would see the best physician Thalanan had to offer. There was still hope that he could be free of the mysterious ailment that so weakened him, shaking his bones and weakening his limbs. Roen had worked tirelessly since arriving in Ul'dah in order to make what gil she could to send back to them, so that he could seek treatments. But no cure was to be found - at least none in Southern Thalanan. Now, at long last, her father was coming to the city of the Sultana. If a cure was to be found anywhere in Thalanan, it would be here. Roen held the letter close in her hands as she sat onto a bench, inhaling deeply as she looked to the skies above. A canopy of ornate green tapestries hung from lamp posts, providing welcomed respite from the sun, the carved stone walls of the buildings glowing in a golden hue under the sunlight. She remembered gazing upon the sight with awe when she first arrived in Ul'dah, only a short few moons ago. So much had happened since. She had been writing Brenden every fifth sun of each new moon, just short letters and updates, but sharing with him - as much as she could - the wonders of Ul'dah. She had never been one for written words in the past, but Brenden adored letters, and had asked her to write often. So she did, every fifth sun, just to let him know she was faring well. Though in truth,"well" was a gross understatement of all the things that had happened to her in the last many moons. Roen did not include many details purposefully. She did not want to worry him. She wrote of the mercenary group she had joined initially. She wrote to him about seeking mentors in her quest to become a paladin, and of entering the coliseum to train as a gladiator, and of meeting Ser Jenlyns who would initiate her formal paladin training. She did not write to him about being fired from said mercenary group, nor of being dismissed by Ser Jenlyns after being absent from the city for a prolonged period of time; the path to becoming a paladin did not account for someone who was also trying to make ends meet. She earned what gil she could by mining ore in the most desolate reaches of Thanalan, sending it back to Brenden and Ana. She did not write of her first two paladin mentors either, both of whom nearly died. She did write of Natalie, the Sultansworn who had arranged for her reintroduction to the path of a paladin, and was, more importantly, a staunch friend and ally. The letters also mentioned friends she had met, people who had become dear to her; Siha, and Nazeru, and Dandaroun, and more. Roen could not wait until she could introduce them to her family. A small chuckle escaped her lips. Just five moons ago, Roen would have never entertained such a social affair, so guarded had she been when she first arrived in Ul'dah. She was seeking her new path here, but was so fearful that others may somehow discover her past: the one that led back to her true homeland in Garlemald. Her previous life seemed so far away now, almost like someone else's forgotten memory obscured in her mind. Memories of it rarely rose to the fore. The past five years in Eorzea had helped Roen forge a new life - the rebirth her heart had long yearned for, following the death and destruction the Calamity had brought, witnessed by her own two eyes. The man who had sired her - the man she refused to call "father" - had been partly responsible for the descent of Dalamud. The blood was on his hands, aye, but Roen felt it on hers as well. The guilt still weighed heavy, still, five years past. Roen had naively volunteered in Nael van Darnus's army at Carteneau. She hadn't known any better at the time, had only been a headstrong girl with no real truths set before her save those given to every person in Garlemald. But the truth was hard to deny: she had raised her sword against those she walked alongside now. The same people who now she called Sister. Friend. Mentor. Would they call her a traitor if they knew? Roen breathed in deep, dismissing the dark thoughts. They had not plagued her nightmares for many moons now, and she was not about to let them return. Her life is beginning anew, and the letter in her hand had good tidings and a chance at a new life for her adopted family. Roen held onto it dearly. It was in that quiet moment that a small hyur boy ran up to her. Judging by his dark complexion and the broad set to his jaw, Roen guessed him to be a Highlander youth. He wore no shirt, although that was not rare in the desert city, his bare feet padding over the cobblestones without a sound. His ragged hempen pants were torn at the edges. His brown eyes looked her up and down before he leaned forward and spoke quietly. "You are Roen Deneith?" Roen blinked."Aye," she said, nodding. "I am." The scrawny boy kept his head low, as if to escape notice from anyone else. "I have a message from Aylard Greyarm. He received the missive from the son of Wolfsong. He will meet with you in two suns, just outside of Ul'dah's gates after the sun sets, at Fresca's Wash." The boy scanned the street left and right before meeting her eyes again. "So you will meet with him?" "I will," Roen said, but before she could ask him any questions, the boy scampered off, disappearing around the corner. Roen's eyes narrowed as she looked to where the boy had gone. The Resistance, she thought. Members of such an organization would not make a habit of announcing their business or plans for the public to take note. It would not make for the longevity of their career or lives. Roen tucked the letter away, her thoughts set to new purpose. Even with her new family soon to arrive in Ul'dah, she could not relinquish the search of any news regarding her old one, not if any of them were also to be found in Eorzea. The discovery that she was able to channel aether - something pure Garleans were rarely able to do - led her to the fact that her maternal line may have had Highlander blood. Her grandmother could have been a conjurer; Roen began to hope that there might be a trace of that lineage found south of Ala Mhigo. She had traveled to Little Ala Mhigo in hope of some answers, and found out that a conjurer that bore close resemblance to herself was known to the Resistance. This information was still hard for Roen to fathom. Her father had been instrumental in bringing Ala Mhigo under the Empire's rule, yet her mother's mother could have been part of the movement that fought against Garlemald? It was far too strange. 'You worry too much,duckling,' she heard a voice in her. The voice belonged to Miss Delial, the Highlander woman that Roen had met during her trek to Little Ala Mhigo. The dark-skinned woman had been instrumental in her providing information regarding her grandmother - including the fact that she may have been associated with the Resistance. Roen had run into Miss Delial a few times in Ul'dah following their first meeting, for the woman worked as a curator at the Hall of Antiquities. Roen had found her helpful, and her confidence charming. Her one good eye was light hazel in color while the other one had a scar through it and was milky white, lending an odd, piercing quality to her gaze. Delial herself admitted she could seem intimidating, but her ever helpful nature had earned Roen's gratitude from the first day they met. They were discussing Roen's search for her family just yesterday when Gharen Wolfsong walked by them. Roen shook her head. Even a small memory of him gave her pause. Set your mind to purpose, Roen, she reminded herself. Gharen, or Master Gharen as she called him since their first lesson many moons ago with sword and shield, had told her that members of the Resistance had once sought him out for his aid. They shared news with him of his blood and true lineage - things Gharen himself was not aware. Yesterday, when he encountered her with Miss Delial on the very same road she was standing on now, he told her that he had agreed to join their cause. That made her pause again. What did that mean, to join them? Was he to travel back to Ala Mhigo? Was he going to leave? Roen did not ask him. Partly because of the company they were in, and partly because... She had resolved to herself that his path was his to choose, independent of anything that she may or may not feel for the man. Roen told herself he deserved happiness when he had found another, and that she was happy for that. She was not going to make things awkward by revealing her feelings - partly because she did not truly know what they were. And now he was joining the Resistance. They knew of his family, could have been his family. Could she blame him? Gharen Wolfsong. She did not write about him in her letters to Brenden Deneith, either. She told herself it was because she would not know what to say of him. Mind to purpose. Roen inhaled sharply and stood. She would send Miss Delial a missive regarding this meeting. The woman had expressed interest in making herself known to the Resistance as well, said she was tired of looking through dust and rocks and now sought to do what was right. The Highlander woman seemed eager to look to a new path and new beginnings. Roen understood this instinct well. "The Spinner has greater things in store for us," Delial had said to her in their last meeting. For us all, Roen added to herself as she began to make her way toward the Quicksand.

A Woman In White Broken Nose spat out the grassweed he had been chewing, his spittle leaving a sticky brown stain on the cobblestones of Ul'dah's main thoroughfare. He gave the blotch on the ground a disdainful glare, rubbing his boots over it to hide the mark. It only served to smear it over more stones, eliciting an additional mutter from the Roegadyn Brass Blade. Broken Nose scanned the street right and left, crossing his massive arms in front of him. The red chainmail armor rustled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the hot Thalanan sun more oppressive than usual this afternoon. Also, he had not come across any potentially suspicious activities yet this day - none that might have elicited a bribe, at any rate - and that had made him grumpy. And bored. With a grunt, Broken Nose turned and began to make his way back down the street of Ul'dah, passing by Ruby Road exchange, the same route that made up his daily watch along Ul'dah's most traveled street. Back when he had first received this assignment, Broken Nose cursed the Twelve for the seemingly mundane and lowly task. The lowly born Roegadyn had joined the Brass Blades with ambitions of rising quickly in the ranks of the jeweled city's law enforcers, and was dismayed at being given such a seemingly benign duty. He soon discovered it was the best thing that could have happened to him. It was walking the streets that gave him the best opportunity to use his job to obtain things. The streets of Ul'dah were never a quiet place; there was always something to be noticed, some dealings behind the corner, and of course whores and gambling on Pearl Street, all of which he could use to gain some extra gil or favor, should he be inclined to look the other way. In the five years of service thus far, Broken Nose had also come to realize that he preferred to do as little work as possible. And properly enforcing the law and keeping the streets safe while climbing the ladder of ambition, well... that could get exhausting. This suited him. His favorite beat was watching the entry way to Ruby Road Exchange, for it was always busy. And there were always plenty of distractions to be had. His eyes strayed toward the dancers that were always the center attraction on Ruby Road Exchange, drawing a crowd around them, both women and men. Some stared at them with a drunken glazed look, others were on their feet hollering, pumping their fists in the air, as though to exhort them to greater degrees of disrobing or feigned sensuality. As if the dancers ever really noticed. Broken Nose had come to recognize the vapid gaze in the dancers' eyes: they too were there to do a job, and the audience seemed just as happy to leer at them whether or not they were even synchronized. They didn't care, and neither did he. He still could appreciate their frames and forms, their tanned flesh clothed in a manner that seemed to reveal more than complete nakedness ever could. The sight of it certainly passed the time when there was nothing else to do. But today might be different. Today, Broken Nose had spotted the woman again. She was slight of frame and subtle in gesture, with a fall of silver hair that never seemed out of place, always neatly combed and held back from her moon face. Dressed in some white linen robe, Broken Nose had guessed that she was not one for long treks on the dusty desert road, especially by the look of the robe's fine and primly pressed fabric. He had taken note of her weeks before, hungry for some extra gil and looking to manufacture a crime. She was the first person he had come across, seated on a bench, carefully writing onto the thick tome she had placed in her lap with slow, exacting strokes. From her dainty and studious appearance, he assumed her an easy mark. He was proven wrong, and quickly. Broken Nose was not the most worldly of men, but he was at least keen to recognizing if a person would be susceptible to intimidation, and she was not one of them. When he approached her, his massive frame looming over the small hyur woman, he found no emotion behind her spectacles when she finally deigned to look back up at him. He could barely discern her eyes as the glasses mirrored the sunlight above. Even as he cited her for something - he could not remember now what bogus charge he was insinuating - her face remained calm and inscrutable. Her voice held a cool, monotonous tone when she responded to him, each word clearly enunciated so that he would not mistake her words. She recited the names of his superior and his superior's superior in such a way that, to this day, gave him twitches at the memory. To call her "cold" would be a disservice to the word; he believed no ice could ever chill him half so much. Her final suggestion was that he would be best served in moving along and letting her continue her business. He did so without delay. Broken Nose's fear of reprimand quelled any anger he might have had. The woman was obviously connected to those in the know, and while he had often exercised his own authoritative muscle in this city, he still knew he was but a grunt - the smallest, most insignificant cog within the larger political wheel that turned the gears of the gargantuan jeweled clock that was Ul'dah. She could ruin him with a word, that much was clear. Broken Nose decided his wisest course of action would be to avoid the silver-haired hyur like the plague. And yet... He had always wondered what the woman's business was. He had seen her twice more since, each time with the tome in hand, always writing something into that thick, omnipresent book. If it wasn't for that one exchange they shared, he would never think to look twice her way. She seemed so dull. So harmless. To this day, he still did not know what her actual business was. So it perked his curiosity on this hot and irksome day when he spotted the silver-haired hyur woman again, seated at her bench, tome in lap, because now her gaze was not fixed on her book as it had always been. Her pale hand and the quill had come to pause in their shared task. This time she was looking straight across the Ruby Road Exchange. Broken Nose could not help but follow her gaze, scanning the street as well, curious to see what would draw the woman's attention. It was another hyur woman. This one was crowned with red hair, and dressed in blue grey armor. He knew of her, although he knew not her name, for she was often seen in the company of a particular Sultansworn. Broken Nose usually made a point to avoid crossing paths with Sultansworns, as they always thought themselves above most others, and were, to a man, some of the most elite swords in Thanalan. Broken Nose always spat after he passed on one the streets, ridding himself of the taste of the bile that rose in his mouth when forced into their presence. (Though always after they had passed. He wasn't stupid.) He did not think the same of the red haired woman, however; whenever she passed him on his patrol, she would give him a polite nod in passing, as if to acknowledge his patrol and give at least some modicum of respect for his duties. He caught himself once puffing out his chest, walking a little straighter and taller in the wake of her recognition, though thought himself just a bit silly only moments after. Broken Nose reminded himself that she would be an easy mark as well, if she was not under the protective guidance of the almighty Sultansworn. The roegadyn watched the red-haired woman a moment longer, his eyes following her steps as she made her way to the moogle that delivered mail in the far end of the street. He knew her well enough to know she always seemed to visit the moogle in the early part of each month with a letter in hand. Such routines on Ruby Road Exchange never escaped his notice; Broken Nose prided himself in that. He absently thought to maybe find out about the contents in that letter. Perhaps it would be of use to him in the future. And anything - or anyone - who caught the notice of the cold woman with the book. The roegadyn then remembered why he was scanning the street in the first place. He glanced back to the bench, only to find the silver haired hyur woman gone.

Welcome to Balmung! I am not a lore expert by any means, so I am just going to wait for Olofantur will hit you upside the head with some helpful information and links soon.

You DO sound HORRIBLE! Hope to run into you soon!

You ARE over-thinking it! Stop it! *thwap!* When I've gone into IC dungeons, it was very much as other's mentioned in the RP/Duty thread. RP before, clear through trash, dialogue (efficient while fighting) and at bosses, and definitely after (CURSE YOU 7 minute time limit after last boss is dead). And you can make the premise about that dungeon into something that fits your storyline. Just change the motivation of why your character is going there. Another idea is to bring the switch in class/job part of Steel Wolf's story. Maybe it represents a significant point in her life of a new path? Revelation? Growth? I am just throwing some ideas at you.

To the honored Immortal Flame Yataghans, I would like to submit this on behalf of my dear friend, Siha Xinkei. She is a bright and cheerful person with a kind heart, who thinks of everyone else but herself. She recently worked tirelessly for a sake of a friend, foregoing her own safety and well-being, thinking only of his welfare. I think she is long overdue for some pampering, one that she would never seek on her own. I would love for her to be treated like a Princess for a sun, and as someone who considers her like a sister, Siha truly deserves such a day. She may even refuse out of humility but if chosen, I will assure you she will happily take part, for who would refuse the honorable Immortal Flames? I hope you consider this entry. ~Roen Deneith ((I think this is such a cool idea, I had to throw someone into the competition! ))

I got an impression from your introduction that you also enjoy roleplay. If the endgame has burned you out, why not change your focus into storytelling? Endless runs of WP, CT, AK, and whatever else to gear up and raise that iLevel kills my brain cells. I enjoy PvE, don't get me wrong, but it is roleplay that makes me want to sign on. IC dungeons, ongoing story arcs, they could wake your muse? Get the creative juices flowing? It would be taking a break from certain parts of the game. Unless PVE is what you enjoy the most. Then I would agree with other people's recommendation in maybe leveling up a DPS class. It sounds like you need a change in focus, and at least this game allows you to level up a different class on the same character. I hope you find your fun again.

D: I did not know this! I ran around busy all day! >.<

Updated to add another alt I play often, Rae. And just wanted to add that so far, I have not played Roen having the ECHO, although I am not completely ruling it out for the future, so far she has not manifested any signs of it. Nor has she taken part in anything in the Main Storyline, like joining the Scions or what not.

I think I will use the "busy" marker for when I am OOC. I think that's a great idea. Easily visible.

Roen was my favorite and most beloved character from the longest D&D campaign I've ever played in. She was my first paladin, and what they say about your first D&D character being most like the player is completely true. Roen was fifth and my last character I rolled, nothing like my first who was a flirtatious gypsy. Playing a paladin was completely out of my comfort zone for me. Stepping into a shoes of a selfless do-gooder is not my thing. Especially in D&D where you don't get to decide your character's fate! You CAN DIE. Lose everything. So playing a character who will likely risk everything for a good cause, that was hard to swallow. My preference has always been flirtatious selfish characters with a vague moral compass. That was my thing. Until Roen. The D&D story that spanned over 5 years with the campaign, her growth, the loves, the hopes, the losses she experienced, and the sacrifice made at the end... I fell in love with the character. So when the story and the campaign was finished, I did not want to let her go. So I created an alternate reality version of her in FFXIV, complete with her own unique FFXIV history. At the heart, she is the same person. I know her inside and out. But the circumstances of her upbringing being completely different, I am having fun playing this "What if" scenario out in the game.

Oh my goodness. They are SOOOO CUTE! I am tempted to break character and just hug them!! I won't but I'd love to meet them!

Welcome! Think of Linkshells as more like chat channels. You can belong up to 8 total. Free Company is more like a guild, you can only belong to one. It has its own chat channel. C&C is a great RP event, but I will warn you. When it is busy and bustling, it scrolls FAST! You might feel a little overwhelmed. That's OKAY. Even seasoned roleplayers miss things when it is scrolling that fast. Showing up early or late can be helpful if you want to keep up with everything going on in the room. Also, there are PLENTY of great friendly RPers in this forum. And many if not most welcome random walk up RP. Or even prearranged in PMs. I think you will have a great time.

Ho-boy. Well, being that I am relatively new to FFXIV, but been RPing for over 15 years, my favorite RP experience is not from this game. And there are so many... hmm. Well I'll list my very first truly emotionally charged game with my first D&D character, it certainly ranks up there. She was a selfish gypsy mage who had fallen in love with a selfless paladin. He of course, charging into battle to save innocents against a foe he could not win against, died (friggin' paladins). His body was hung up on a stake as a cruel display of the tribal leader's power. This sight was too much for my character to bear. Her love had influenced her to be good and do good, but with his death and the grisly display, she lost it. She fireballed the entire camp again and again in trying to kill the leader, but caught everyone else there as well, women and children alike. She killed them all. The paladin was returned to life by the grace of his god, but when he discovered what she had done, he was horrified and turned her away. And seeing it through his eyes, she felt ashamed too. She returned to the burned remnants of where the camp once stood, and wept there alone. Now I have not had such emotionally charged scenes in FFXIV. At least, not yet. I've only known this game and Roen in it for a few months, and I like for things to develop organically. There have been some really great scenes in between characters, ranging from touching, to somber, to just plain creepy. I've enjoyed them all.

Roen does not flinch or dislike personal touches or contact, but being raised mostly by a distant and cold father, hugging and physical closeness was not something she was used to. She was and perhaps is still a little awkward when it comes to hugging. But due to recent events, she has given embraces to others for their sake, and have learned to take comfort in it as well.

Well, I will say this so far. Tempered Natalie is NOT Natalie. She is all sorts of subtly creepy in that "I am normal and HAPPY SEE" kind of a way. Something definitely is wrong there.