Roen

Roen stared at the parchments that were laid out in front of her. They were plucked from the pile of documents that were found in the boxes that she had unpacked, and while there were numerous contracts and proof of holdings to sift through, four pieces of paper did not quite seem to belong with the rest. She had read them over and again, and still their significance confounded her. First was a letter that was presumably addressed to Sebastian Redgrave. S.R. Arnor Mills - Flames corporal, taken by Amal’jaa and tempered. Presumed deceased. “Adala” - Courtesan. Sold to a Hingan and left for Othard more than twenty years ago. Fiora Horne - Parents deceased. No children. Murdered in Ul’dah about twenty years ago. Falbrand Horne, brother, left for Ala Mhigo one year ago. Vail Lazarov - Pirate. Vanished at sea ten years ago. Good business. M. Accompanying the letter was an old and worn out parchment receipt, indicating the “sale of debt” of an indentured servant known by the name “Adala”. The surname was too smudged and worn out to read. Along with the receipt, there was another sheet that contained what seems to be a crude family tree drawn on it. Arnor Mills and Adala were connected, having a child named “Adair”. A dotted line linked “Adair” to “Fiora Horne” and then to “Vail Lazarov”. Then the final piece of the puzzle was another letter. My dear Adair, I had my brother Falbrand hold onto this. In the event that anything happened to me, he would find you and give this to you. It seemed like only yesterday that you were given unto my care, and while I may not be your true mother, I have and will always love you like my true son. Your mother Adala loved you dearly as well. It was because she loved you that she gave you to me, gave you to the absolute best chance for a better life that she could find despite her circumstances. I do not know what you may be feeling from knowing this; I can only tell you that Adala was desperate to find you food, shelter, and some semblance of a future. All things that she could not provide. I have done my best to care for you, and despite my--our circumstances, I have seen you grow to be healthy and strong. I write this now so that you will always know that you were never unwanted, by either of us. We were simply too weak to give you the bright future you deserved. Please find the hope to live. Fiora Roen knew that name, Fiora. It belonged to the woman that raised Nero in Ul’dah. She worked in a brothel, and her story was a sorrowful tragedy--one that Nero did not relish in sharing. But Roen remembered her name. Adair. Was that his true name given to him by his birth mother? Roen knew that Nero had chosen a Garlean name for himself, because it sounded intimidating. But he fell into a somber silence the one time Roen asked him what his real name was. She had just assumed that he did not know, at least until now. But if the information she could piece together from these letters and receipts was true… it must have been the reason Nero was looking to flee to Othard. Roen let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the chair, her eyes still fixated on the scattered papers on the desk. She assumed she would find mementos of Nero’s life as she unpacked his things, and she had cherished various memories that each recognized item brought forth. But she was not expecting this kind of a revelation. But now that it stared back at her, what would she do?

Something I was listening to while writing a sentimental post. [video=youtube]

The silk shirt was still soft to touch, its white sheen accentuated against the rich crimson embroidery that was woven into the sleeves and the seams. Roen gently lifted it out of the box, her eyes studying the fine details in the tailoring. With a few tugs, the ballooned sleeves regained their airiness, puffing out proudly as if to show off the frame of the man that had once worn them. Roen had not complemented Nero when he arrived at the Starlight Ball, dressed fancily in this nobleman’s tunic. She was at a lost for words that he had shown up at all. She tucked her joy away quietly, only greeting him with a warning about her brother being present within. His returned quip was quietly confident, only pondering the varied possibilities of the impending encounter, as they entered the Sanctum of the Twelve together. A mass of gloriously dressed patrons danced and twirled within. That had been nearly three years ago. Roen held up the shirt in front of her, wondering why this one of all tunics were preserved. Nero had not packed frivolously, but the outfit he wore to the Ball was precisely folded and tucked away with his personal belongings meant for Othard. Was there a part of him that wanted to remember? Roen brought the fabric to her face to feel its caress, and inhaled deeply. The memories of the cool damp air of the forest and the scent of the man that wore it returned easily to her memory. The moon had shone bright that evening. Roen had never seen it as clear as she did that night, pale and alone in a night sky littered with countless stars. She wondered if it was the hushed calm of the Shroud that allowed the night to unveil itself with such honesty. The footsteps of the pirate and the paladin were quiet over the mossy ground that spanned the forest around the Sanctum of the Twelve. Roen did not know for how long they had strolled amongst the woods after leaving the Starlight Ball; their pace was unhurried, their course meandering. Nero had been quiet for most of the way, although Roen herself was lost in thought. Much had happened during the Ball, from Gharen asking about the Yoyorano family, to Mister Bellveil revealing to Gideon that she had a secret she was desperately trying to hide. Then there was the run-in with Taeros and Coatleque, and the tense exchange of words between them. Her thoughts were so far away that by the time the two found themselves in a small clearing, she nor the pirate knew how they had gotten there. She thought it was part luck and part coincidence that they came upon the secluded grove--a cleared, oval copse shrouded by trees. There was a break in the canopy that allowed the stars and moonlight to illuminate the space, and the quiet babble of a distant stream filled the air along with soft singing of crickets. It was a charming respite, a welcomed escape from the shadows that lingered everywhere else. Roen eyed the smuggler who shuffled ahead of her awkwardly, his hand brushing through those jet black locks streaked with orange. She marveled at how the silver light that filtered down from above seemed to calm even those blazing highlights… and maybe even sooth his usually guarded disposition. He turned his head left then right, placing his hands on his hips. He fidgeted, and seemed unable to decide between coughing or sighing. “I never did like walking around in the Shroud, you know.” Nero’s confession came out more like a groan. “Everything looks the same. How do Gridanians put up with it? Perhaps they bring lengths of rope with them to backtrack.” Roen took comfort in the shimmering radiance from above, a smile rising to her lips. “I used to get lost here often.” She shrugged, stepping carefully over a root on her tip toes, careful not to let the heels of her shoes sink in between the vines. “But sometimes...I did not mind it so much.” The pirate smirked and cocked an eye at her. “Ever the woodland sprite, hm? It’s a shame you don’t do well on ships.” He threw a glance at his surroundings. “I don’t suppose you know where this is, do you?” Her smile widened into a grin as she walked past him into the grove, slipping out of her shoes as her baretoes tested the soft moss covered ground. She spun once on the balls of her feet, letting her dress billow around her legs. “Does it matter? It is beautiful, is it not?” She opened her arms wide. “It makes you forget, just for little while, the rest of the world.” There was a part of her that desperately needed to not think of other things. Nero curled something oddly akin to an amused frown. “Perhaps not right this moment, but I would rather not be buried by sylphs, thank you very much.” He exhaled. “I suppose we have been walking for some time, anyway.” The paladin ambled around the periphery of the grove, but glanced back at the smuggler when she heard him grunt, trying to take a seat on the grass. He was struggling with the restrictions of the outfit he had chosen for the Starlight Ball. “Oh, sod it.” The pirate hastily undid the buckles holding the breastplate to the silk white shirt he had worn, and the thin plate of metal thudded softly on the forest floor. Following that was the tight laces on the shirt itself; half of its length was undone, somewhat exposing his chest. Nero let out a long satisfied exhale and stretched, having been released from the confines of his fanciful ensemble. “I do not know if you are aware,” the smuggler explained as he caught her watching him. He smirked back when their eyes met, and Roen quickly glanced elsewhere. “But formal wear is very uncomfortable.” He gave the breastplate an accusatory look. “Or perhaps they just fitted me wrong. Silly design, really. They make the sleeves and everything else loose, only to tighten it up with all those laces and cuffs. I was rather stifled in that ball, wearing this getup.” Roen was doing her very best to press her lips together, to try and lessen her outward expression of amusement. “Despite all your complaints, you did look rather dashing.” She looked down at her own dress, the red and white silks billowing with a gentle forest breeze. Wearing such an ornate ensemble was a rare treat for her, one that she secretly savored. “My dear, are you suggesting that there are times where I do not look dashing? I am offended. Wounded. Besmirched, even.” By the time Roen turned back to him, he was stretching his arms outwards, twisting his torso this way and that. “This is much more comfortable, in any case.” "It has been awhile since I wore such things," she said wistfully as she lightly tugged on the fall of her skirt to let it sway. When she peered back up at him, her grey eyes twinkled a little. "And...you do smirk a bit much." He looked at her in an expression of mock horror. "But this is a Lazarov trademark!" he protested. "Passed down our family line for generations!" He straightened his posture and gave a low bow, crossing his left arm across his chest and offering his right arm towards the paladin. "I daresay I must challenge you to a duel for my family's honour. Seeing as how none are watching." His eyes danced mischievously. "Though bear in mind that it's been some time since I've had to dance. Years, even. I sensed that you wished for the opportunity while we were at the ball, but I could not humiliate myself in such a fashion. Not in public, anyway." Roen did not answer immediately, instead she spun from him and took a few more steps into the grove. She tossed aside her shoes, preferring the bare feet to lightly press upon the moist grass. When she turned back to the pirate, it was with a quick spin, to send her dress flaring outwards. She had a beaming smile. "Challenge of a duel. I accept." She approached him and placed her hand upon his, their palms lightly touching. "I did want to dance. But I would not have you do something you did not want to." She canted her head. "You had begrudgingly agreed to coming to the Ball after all." "I would like it to go on record that it is only because going in public carries a distinct danger. Let it never be said that I do nothing for you, hm?" His teasing grin was only a small warning to him gasping her offered hand and sweeping her body close to his. "Is a waltz acceptable? I am afraid those are the only steps I have memorised." Roen almost let out a small laughter of surprise, but she stepped into his hold nimbly. She nodded, her expression warm, perhaps her cheeks even more so. "I did not know you knew the waltz." Nero began to move, placing his right arm around the small of her back and firmly grasping her left hand. His steps were unsteady but practised. His steps were calm and slow, not very much like the energy that the style usually demanded, and he gently turned with her as they moved through the grove. "It was for a Gridanian soiree. A business partner insisted I make an attendance, and he was not one you said no to." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Have you any idea how difficult it is to find dance instructors in Limsa Lominsa on such short notice? Perhaps it is lucky I did not learn to dance like a courtesan." "Mm." Her steps matched his with ease , her dress whispering quietly over the soft grass. "Did you sweep someone else off their feet?" "Sadly, no. I am not entirely sure what happened, but spirits were served and the last thing I remember is being told to put the confectionary tray down and leave the premises." A small chuckle accompanied the memory. "The rest, as they say, is history." His movements were becoming more fluid as he seemingly gained more confidence. "Coincidentally, it is there that I gained my distaste of doublets as well." There was only the quiet rustling of the leaves, the whispering babble of a stream, and a choir of crickets, but they all sounded like music to her ears as the two of them glided in small circles through the clear copse. She wondered if he could see how warm her cheeks felt. She was silently grateful for the cool forest air. "I am glad that you did not choose to repeat that particular performance, this eve." "And risk embarrassing you, my dear? Not a chance." He stopped abruptly in his movement and, still grasping her arm and the small of her back, bent low. He paused as he held her easily, almost parallel with the ground. His icy-blue eyes held a twinkle of amusement. "Moonlight suits you. I was not aware." Roen let out an unexpected gasp of laughter at the dip, then she pressed her lips together again as if to quell it. "You are not a bad dancer. Better than you give yourself credit for." "Do not give me so much credit. This is the only dance I know, and I must say that I find the movements dreadfully boring. It is nothing but spinning." He pulled her up and again held her body close to his. "If there is more to the act, I do not know it." Her grey eyes darted between his, as if seeing him in a brand new light. As they stood again, she glanced to their joined hand. "It is not just about the steps. It is... it is about the movement of two people as one. Each one can shine in turn and yet the two never part. Then they unite again to move together once more. It is meant to be a delicate art." Nero grinned. "Care to demonstrate?" Roen smiled brightly. She pulled back slightly, slipping out of his hold, but their hand remained joined as she stepped across from him into a graceful spin. She stepped towards him again, but to his backside, their tentative hold remaining ever entwined. Nero did not move much though he continued to hold her hand. "I hope you are not expecting me to improvise. I would rather not inflict any injuries tonight, hm?" She looked at him over her shoulder. "There are many ways to move, together and yet separate." This time with their hands held high, she spun around him, coming to face him chest to chest. The billow of her dress wrapped around her legs. "Why Mister Lazarov, you dare lose to me in this duel?" "Admittedly, this is one thing I would not necessarily mind losing in. Though I will endeavour to provide a challenge." He took hold of her and their rotary began again. In the middle of one rotation, he released his right hand from the small of her back, allowing her to extend. "Do take care that I am improvising now, and I take no responsibility," he said, grinning. "This is not my forte, you realise." Roen spun once, her free hand extending behind her, before she stepped back towards him. "And if you lose this duel, what do I gain with my victory?" "A cookie in an amusing shape is all I can promise," he returned. "Though, be aware that I may play dirty. Like this." He began taking her in circles again, but just as abruptly as he started, he planted a foot behind her heel, tripping her, and back she went. He of course followed suit, though he nimbly took care to spin as they both fell, placing his body beneath hers as they tumbled onto the soft grass. Roen let out a surprised yelp, followed by a laugh as she landed on top of him. Nero sounded somewhat breathless, although he still maintained his smirk, as ever. "We can call this a draw, hm?" Her auburn locks fell loose and around his face. She wrinkled her nose but her lips were still curled in a smile. "You cheat!" She lightly tapped his chest with a fist. "Pirate, remember?" The statement was punctuated with a light and sudden kiss to the side of her face. "You would do well to remember that." His breathing steadied as he lay in the grass, his loose shirt not offering much resistance to the soothing sensation of the cool grass. He stared up at the brilliant moon and the stars above. "Starlight Ball. An apt name for it, I suppose." What mischief she held for him quickly faded with that kiss. Her cheeks felt warm again, even though she had felt his lips before. She sighed softly and slid onto the grass next to him. "This...is nice," she said softly. "Daegsatz would have never believed it," she murmured after a pause. "That you would dance with me under the starlight." There was a quiet inhale as she fought off any melancholy that threatened to descend. She pursed her lips stubbornly. "He actually dared me to teach you." Nero let out a soft snort. "I suppose he's busy writing me an invoice for all of the gil I owe him now. Well, let it never be said that I am not full of surprises." He turned his head slightly, looking at her. "Though, keep this to yourself, hm? My reputation would be ruined otherwise." She turned to lay on her side, her head propped against her hand. "It is good to see you smile," she admitted quietly as she regarded him. "I daresay you do not do it often enough. It suits you." "If I smiled too often, then they would cease to become special.” He spun his body to face her briefly before reaching an arm over her and rather forcefully rolling her atop him, tucking her head in towards his neck. She had caught for an instant that his expression had grown somber, just as he hid his face from hers with the gesture. "And I can't have that now, can I?" Roen yelped again, but remained where she laid, crossing her arms and resting her chin against his collarbone. Her breath was soft against his neck. "You do not give yourself enough credit. You hold much in reserve." She turned her head slightly, her nose lightly brushing against his cheek. "I believe I know you, a little." There was a smile behind those words. Nero fell to silence, merely staring up at the canopy of light that was the night sky. His left arm had reached around her and his thumb idly stroked her cheek, half in affection and half in contemplation. Then suddenly he pulled her up closer towards him and kissed her lips, almost forcefully so. He held her head to his for a long time before releasing her, his breath finally escaping him, drifting warmly past her lips and cheek. "This was....an invitation to forget our troubles, no?" He kissed her again. "Then let us forget our troubles." The shirt still held his scent. Roen laid on the bed, one arm covering her eyes. She felt the single streak of moisture that had left its trail upon her cheek. Two years, and it still hurt. It no longer paralyzed her as it used to, but such thoughts of him still rekindled that deep ache within her chest. She remained on that bed for awhile longer, as the ocean winds rolled in, and the distant cry of seagulls filled the air.

Welcome! It's always good to see a new face on Balmung! I wish you a lot of fun and adventures!

The white stone that arched over the entrance looked weather-worn, scoured by the coastal winds of the Rhotano, bleached by the naked sun; each small crevice was filled with grains of salt and sand, and its white hue had faded slightly over the years. But the flowers within the pots on each side of the portal leading into the front lawn bloomed brightly still, as did the stalks of lavender and sunflowers that gently swayed in the garden. “We took the liberty to send a caretaker to maintain the front yard,” Reese Templeton had informed her. “I thought it would look more welcoming. Why don’t you visit and see for yourself? It is your property after all.” Roen looked up to the tall residence that had greeted her years ago much as it did today. This was once Nero’s home, seated upon the highest plot in the Mist, overlooking the beach below. The heat from the sands gave way to a cooler breeze at this elevation, and the echoing calls of the seagulls and the crashing waves were just a distant whisper. Soft lavender petals caressed her palm as she slowly made her way to the door, her hand lightly brushing over the flowers. The estate had been bequeathed onto her, as well as what remained within. Furniture and other belongings had been boxed and arranged to be shipped for Othard, but when the recipient never arrived at the destination, it was all sent back. And while the Office of Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises had been considerate enough to peripherally maintain the property that once belonged to Sebastian Redgrave, apparently they felt it was finally time that the new owner took over. Roen glanced at the large cannon that still stood next to the arched gateway, aimed at the horizon. While never intended to be used, its very presence was something that boldly showcased Nero’s arrogance and fearlessness, perhaps even hinting at his life of piracy. She could never deny that he lacked any flare. The outside was just as she had remembered it. Has it been almost three years already…? The house always seemed somewhat lonely upon its high perch, although as it looked out onto the seemingly endless ocean, there was a sense of longing with threads of hope woven in. When she entered the home, there was a thin cloud of dust that veiled everything, and the stale air within felt heavy and unmoving. The large furnitures had been unpacked and placed roughly where they had been before, and a few unopened boxes were left scattered throughout the house. It was as Reese had told her: what were sent back were left within the estate, most boxes left unopened. The last time Roen had set foot in this place was in search of Nero, after he had left it abandoned. Then, it was only filled with ghosts of regret and unfulfilled dreams. Now, she could imagine from the corner of her eyes, the image of him seated at his desk in his study, busily attending to a stack of contracts and documents. She recalled the many conversations they had as she sat across from him, and a few times, they were even light hearted. He had even entertained a guest once in this solitary house; Roen recalled a visit from Kiht. The image of the quiet talk that she and the Keeper shared in front of the fireplace rose easily in her mind, and it brought forth a wistful sigh. She had told her friend how important Nero and his mission were to her, even confessing much of her feelings. This place still held many memories of the man that once lived, and all the small moments that also filled her life while she was in his. Roen exhaled, finding small measure of comfort that she no longer felt crippled by such reminiscence. "And you? Will you...return?" Kasrjin’s last question to her suddenly echoed in her mind. Well, I guess this would be the first step. Roen inhaled deeply. She set her sword aside and rolled up her sleeves. The first task would be to clean the house, then set to opening the boxes and organizing all the contents within. She was not sure what she would do once all things were cleaned, if she would even make this place her own. But she would figure that out later. First, she needed to open all the windows and let the fresh air in.

I've had lots of fun RPing male characters in the past! It was in forum RP, and describing them and their behavior was fun for me. It was also fun to try and step into the male role in a relationship and be believable about their mindset. I was happy to know after the fact that some players did not know I was a female player behind the keyboard. Currently my characters in FFXIV are all female, only because I like seeing glamour on females. This bias has been the case since my WoW days when I preferred to see all the gears on my female night elf. It's just a personal preference. I have written for a few male characters in posts, and I am still open to possibly rolling a male alt if some idea inspires me to do so.

I too like people watching. I enjoy watching scenes unfold even if I have nothing to do with it. So definitely I would prefer option A. I think I am half half on when I RP in party and when I RP in public. It really depends on the preferences of those I am RPing with and the nature of the RP itself. But if I am RPing in /s and /em, I don't mind other RPers overhearing it or even reacting to it. If they approach, our interaction will depend on the context. If it is a private conversation, then my character will say so. I also agree with the idea that just because someone is RPing in public, it may not an automatic invitation for everyone to jump in right then and there but can serve as an advertisement that might interest others to RP with them later down the line. I think there has been a lot of differing opinions here, and I don't think any one of them are absolutely wrong. I just think they are just different preferences and it's always best to acknowledge that try to go with the flow.

Welcome! Your avatar made me chuckle.

“What do you mean he is gone?” Roen stared eyes wide at the empty bed in the small stone walled room. No matter how hard she glared at it, it remained vacant. The man that used to lay there, with tubes protruding out of his chest… was simply no longer there. Shaelen gave a helpless shrug. “He stood up, swayed, and then stumbled out.” She was leaning back on a wooden chair, precariously balanced on its two hind legs, her feet crossed at the ankles atop the table in front of her. She looked as relaxed as one could be given the fact that she had just lost her patient. That exasperated Roen even further. “And you did not think… to stop him?” Shaelen lowered her head, her eyes looking over the red shades that rested upon the bridge of her nose. She arched one eyebrow. “What was I supposed to do? Knock him out? Tie him up? He wasn’t my prisoner. You just brought me here to make sure he woke up. Well, he woke up and wanted to leave.” The smuggler was met with a look of dismay. “Certainly he was not in any condition to...?” Shaelen rolled her shoulders again. “I have to give him some credit. The man is one tenacious bastard. Once he made up his mind to leave, nothing was going to stop him. Unless… you know, I knocked him out unconscious. Which I did consider! But…” Roen threw both hands up in the air, incredulous. “But…?” Shael uncrossed her legs, leaning forward, almost strangely casual... before saying, “He offered me a lot money.” She immediately bolted to her feet and held her hands up before Roen could reply. It may have been the heat Roen felt rising in her cheeks, or the rolling indignation that was twisting her face that prompted the smuggler to do so. “Now now, Ro, before you unsheath that sword or something crazy, let me explain!” Roen breathed once in, and once out. She somehow forced her voice to calm. “Explain.” Shael’s blue-grey eyes darted from the paladin’s face to her sword hand and weapon then back to her face. She parted her lips in a toothy smile, one that seemed to only vaguely hint at an apology. “He woke up and started asking a lot of questions. Where he was, who I was, and so on and so forth. I told him he was in a safe house and mentioned how you called on me to help him, and he seemed to calm a little. But he seemed set on leaving, saying that if he didn’t, his life was good as forfeit. I said you had a lot of questions for him, and likely didn’t mean him any harm. I mean, he would have died otherwise. He owed you, you know?” She sat back down, this time onto the bed. Her hand went to the tablet that laid upon it. “But he said either I stop him physically or that he will be on his way.” “I would have preferred that you stopped him physically.” Roen crossed her arms, her expression stern. “I know!” Shael chimed back eagerly. “I considered it! But…I have a feel for these things. And while I could have forced him to stay since he wasn’t in any condition to put up much of a fight, he was likely going to be a lot less cooperative if we went there. So… I waited until he offered me a sizeable incentive, and said I’d release him on one condition.” “And what was that?” Shaelen scooped up the tablet and held it out for Roen. “He left you something. A message. Okay, a long message. I told him to record a confession, telling you everything you might want to know. He seemed to know what you wanted from him, but still he went on to say more.” Roen took the tablet in her hand, the screen lighting up as she activated it. She glanced from it to the Highlander seated on the bed. “You read it?” Shael made a face and snorted. “Of course! I had to be sure it was worth letting him go. I read it after he left, but I could have tracked him down if I needed to.” Roen felt some of her anger starting to fade, although her disappointment still lingered. “You better hope he left me what I needed to know,” she grumbled. Shael crossed her legs, leaning back against the bed with both her hands splayed on the mattress. She shrugged, smiling coyly. “Or what, we’re no longer friends?” There was a cocky smirk to her lips as if she already knew the answer. That only made Roen roll her eyes although she really had no appropriate retort for that. For as long as she has known the woman, the Highlander was impulsive and brash, with a streak of recklessness. It reminded her of another smuggler, and a part of her wondered if all pirates were this way. Or why she found herself always getting involved with these types of personalities. Roen quickly shook her head free of such silly questions and furrowed her brows. She still had not told Shael about Delial and Gharen’s involvement. With Taeros now gone to the winds, perhaps the encounter between them did not need to happen after all. She recalled the displeasure on Delial’s face when she informed her of Stormchild’s part in awakening Taeros. But for the sake of finding Harvard, Delial had agreed to a form of truce, or at least to not incite violence first should she and Shaelen ever cross paths. But now with circumstances being what they were, was it even necessary? “Gharen told me he held you at knife point once,” Roen heard herself blurting out even before she knew it. “And went back on a deal he made to turn Delial over by having the Brass Blades arrest you.” Even now, she found those revelations unfathomable. When had Gharen and Shael’s relationship soured so? Shael flicked her an odd look, some mirth fading from her face. “Why do you still come to my aid?” Roen asked as she regarded the smuggler, her question sincere. The Highlander squinted her eyes, her lips pursed in thought. “Your brother did break his promise,” she said blandly. “But I knew he was bluffing when he held that knife to my back. As for turning me into the Brass Blades…” the smuggler snorted out a laughter. “Come on! If I couldn’t get out of some trouble with the Brass Blades, you’d think I’d still be in the business I’m in?” When Roen continued to study her looking somewhat perplexed, Shaelen sighed and shrugged. “In my line of work, you can’t hold minor grudges for too long. Else you run out of people to do business with. If they didn’t do you any real wrong, then you need to move on and do what you need to do to keep afloat. Don’t mean I will ever trust your brother though. “You, on the other hand…” Shaelen cocked her head, giving Roen a long look over. “You’re easy to read and you wear your heart on your sleeve. I can see you coming from a malm away.” She shook a finger at her. “And well, as I recall, I am the one that knocked you upside the head first… and here you are still talking to me. What does that say?” Roen chewed her lower lip with some hesitation before she took a seat next to the smuggler. “So, you do not hold me accountable for what happened to Aylard?” It was a fear she had always kept deep within, one that she had tucked away and never voiced. But for some reason, she needed to ask now. Shaelen went still, even her breathing seemed to cease for a moment. Her expression darkened. “No, that is all on the Kinslayer.” Her voice suddenly chilled as well as her demeanor. “That kind of wrong you never forgive. Or forget.” If Roen had thought that this was the opportunity to gently broach the subject of Delial’s involvement in all this, Shael’s cold disposition quickly changed her mind. Perhaps this was not the right time either. She looked onto her lap, her fingers absently tapping upon her leg. She did not like keeping secrets from those she considered friends. “Gratitude,” she finally murmured. “For helping me. With Harvard, Mister North, and now Taeros.” Roen had not raised her gaze yet to look upon the Highlander, but when a shining metal object suddenly spun in front of her, she looked up. It was a silver Garlean timepiece. “You should probably have this.” Shaelen said, holding out the relic, the polished metal medallion hanging from a thin chain. “It belonged to Lazarov.” Roen blinked as she carefully cradled the watch in both hands. “How did you…” “He was lousy at cards!” She released the chain to let it fall onto fall into Roen’s hand, then hopped off the bed. “And I drank him under the table. Although he thought he was drinking me under the table. Ha!” When Roen regarded her with a bewildered look, the smuggler scratched her head sheepishly. “It was a long time ago.” Not knowing what to say, Roen returned her attention to the gift in her hand, her eyes combing over its details. This would be something that Nero would have cherished for himself. He did always love clockwork gadgets, and this was Garlean, no less. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Shael striding to the table, picking up her equipment and gun that laid there. The Highlander swung it over her shoulder and set the weapon to rest against her back, before looking at the paladin again. Roen was still at loss for words. Rather than offering one of her usual wisecracks, Shaelen just gave her a nod, her smirk curling into a softer expression. “He wasn’t all bad.” To that, Roen just smiled. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone with Taero’s latest diary entry. Enjoy!” The smuggler gave the air a vague salute before striding out the door.

Good to see a new(ish) face in Balmung! And with even a rumor no less. :thumbsup: Welcome to the RPC!

Good to see a fresh-ish face in Balmung! A pirate no less. Welcome to the RPC!

Hmm, great thread! I'll go through my three characters. 1) Roen: Given her compassionate nature and her ongoing quest to redeem herself for the wrongs that she believes rest on her shoulders, it would be perfectly within her character to go out in a blaze of glory, sacrificing herself to save others. Except, I as her player and her storyteller, don't think that would be very gratifying, at least for me. She has been through a lot, with losses and personal tragedies, so when all is said and done, I would like for her to retire to a quiet life, having learned the lessons she sought to learn and some that she never wanted to learn. I am hoping she would look back on her life with a sense of wisdom and would be willing to pass those onto others as well. But this being roleplay, who KNOWS if that is how it will end. I always love the fact that RP does throw things for an unexpected loop. 2) Brynnalia: She is much more self serving, always on the chase for the next perfect moment of happiness while working to fiercely preserve what she has. Being that she is on the greedy side of things but over-protective of the few she genuinely cares for... I believe it would make a great ending for her to learn self-sacrifice for others. She hasn't yet though. OR she can have the life she always thought she never wanted. Settling down with one person to have a normal uneventful life and a happy family. It would amuse me to see her come to that realization, that she would actually enjoy being dull and mundane. 3) Raelisanne/Rissa/Josette: Death. It is the only way. Just how many go with her when she meets her end remains to be seen.

Welcome Miroell! Your starting post is adorable. Unless you ARE really panicking then... /soothe Foxfirestorm already included some helpful tips, but you can check this thread out as well for some guidance on where to go. Take some deep breaths and check out the realms that interests you! I know that there are some great people on these forums that are actively working to welcome people to Mateus. I hope you find what you are looking for!

Oooh! Welcome to the RPC! I look forward to reading your stories!

“Well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Jameson Taeros.” Shaelen Stormchild poked a finger at the tubings that protruded out of the man’s ribcage. She tilted her head this way and that, then crossed her arms. “I would’a never guessed this was the same man that made the headlines in Ul’dah a few years ago.” The Highlander woman cocked a brow. “Someone’s sure done a number on him.” Roen stood on the other side of the unconscious man, giving a nod of reassurance to the physician on who hovered at the doorway. He was lingering, giving a suspicious eye to the Highlander woman who wore a large gun upon her back. While Roen had assured the physician that Shaelen intended the patient no harm, it was obvious his attention was drawn to the metal packs that hung from the Highlander, that flashed and glowed with magitek gadgetry. The man bowed reluctantly, and with a disapproving frown, before he exited the room. “So, can you help him?” Roen glanced back to Shael. The Highlander snorted loudly. “Hells no! I can tell you how to rewire an aether drive or hotwire a magitek engine, but this…” She made a face as her eyes skipped from one duct to another that coiled in and out of the man’s body. “I can say that these look like conduits of some sort. Not sure what is flowing within, but I suspect his body is dependent upon it somehow, since it hasn’t killed him yet. Maybe… it’s like a new fuel pipe of some sort? I haven’t the slightest clue without actually opening him up, but that might kill him.” When the paladin gave him a look of dismay, Shael held up both her hands. “But…! I’ve thrown out a few hooks out to some experts I know, to see who bites. Shooey should be getting back to me soon.” “Oh!” Roen arched both her eyebrows. She bent down into her pack, and withdrew a thin polished metal tablet. She extended it to the smuggler. “Would this help?” “Oh ho ho!” Shael’s eyes lit up as she eagerly snatched the magitek pad. Her fingers deftly began to work on its surface, and the tablet responded with illumination. The smuggler smiled gleefully. “This will work. Oh definitely.” Roen sighed with relief, lowering herself into a seat next to the unconscious patient. “The physicians have done what they could here to keep him alive, but they know not what to do with the magitek.” “I am not surprised,” Shaelen did not look up, her face buried in the tablet. “This is some intricate stuff.” Roen regarded the woman for a moment, but as she seemed to be completely engrossed in whatever information she was gleaning off the screen, Roen turned her attention back to Taeros. The man in front of her looked nothing like the proud noble she once knew; his cheeks were sunken in and his dark hair was a matted mess. Someone had shaved his grizzled beard, but that had only highlighted the pallor and gaunt features underneath. How long has he been this way? And why? She had always thought that he was an ally of Banurein. “I still don’ get why you even want to help him, Red.” The smuggler looked up, giving her an odd look. “Wasn’t he the one that got you dismissed from the Sultansworns, then threw you in a dungeon when you were with Lazarov? It’s people like him that you were trying to bring down. Now you want to save his life?” Silence was the only answer that Roen could give. She was not sure why she wanted to do this. Was it because he had confessed his love for her mother once? Or that he had told her that he had actually intended then failed to protect her? Even when she had that one opportunity with a blade drawn against the the man’s neck, Roen had spared his life. She was not quite sure why she couldn’t kill him then either. But she knew one thing for certain. Trading him like a simple bag of grain, back to the woman who was responsible for his dire state in the first place, just felt wrong. “There is still so much we do not know,” Roen murmured. “Perhaps he could answer so many more questions.” “Huh,” Shael huffed, setting the tablet down on the bed next to Taeros’ head. She folded her arms and propped her elbows onto the mattress, bringing her gaze to Roen’s level. She stared straight at her. “This is just like the last time. With the Kinslayer’s brother. You couldn’t honestly go through with the exchange then either. Even after everything, you still haven’t changed.” She snorted. “Still soft.” Roen frowned and stood, pushing off the bed. “That plan worked, did it not? Delial agreed to the exchange: Gharen for Harvard.” She spun and paced to the window. She absently rubbed at her neck at the memory that rose, of the fury she remembered in Qaeli’s eyes, when she found out that Roen had released Harvard, even before the exchange had taken place. Back then, she was not willing to risk Qaeli delivering on her promise of taking Harvard’s life if the trade had not gone as planned. No matter what the circumstances, Harvard had been innocent. “Yeah, we got lucky I guess.” Shael shrugged and returned her attention to the magitek pad. “Be glad your brother didn’t come back in a box.” There was a tinge of bitterness in the smuggler’s words that Roen could not ignore. Shael had never forgiven Delial’s murder of Aylard Greyarm. And why should she? Roen had come to realize that Shaelen had deep loyalties to Greyarm. Had Delial returned Gharen in the same gruesome manner… how would have things turned out? The thought sent a wave of nausea through Roen and she quickly shook her head to disperse the mental images that rose. That was not who Delial was now; the woman had been slowly trying to atone for all that she had done. But Roen knew that Shaelen would be the last person on Eorzea that would be convinced of it. Besides, this was not the time nor the place. Roen looked to the courtyard to make certain that there were no signs of either Delial nor Gharen. She knew that it was very possible that things could turn violent should the two Highlander women cross paths. Shaelen had also voiced on more than one occasion of her disappointment with Gharen, in siding with the Kinslayer. So Roen conveniently decided to omit the detail of their involvement in rescuing Taeros. It was a risky venture in not telling either side of the other, but if Shael could wake Taeros, Roen believed it would be worth it. “Shael, you’re brilliant,” Shaelen told herself with a beaming smile as she tapped decisively onto the glimmering screen. Her artificially lit face then looked to Roen, expectantly. “Red, say I’m brilliant.” “You are... brilliant?” Roen stepped away from the window, approaching the bed. She wanted to sound hopeful but her tone came off more skeptical. It was met with a disappointed half-lidded glare. “Someday, someone’s gotta teach you how to be a more convincing liar.” The smuggler shook her head, but quickly her elation returned. “I think I have an idea on how to fix him.” Roen immediately brightened. “Can you do it?” “Well, it’s a longshot.” Shaelen gave her a toothy smile. “But I’m willing to bet his life on it.”

You sound just like me about the lore when I started to RP here. (and I am still not an expert ) Welcome to the RPC! Always good to see a new face in Balmung!

Delial stood alone with her back to the road, her dark silhouette starkly contrasted against the white canvas of the northern mountains beyond. Beneath the woman’s boots, the icy ground seemed thinner, slipperier, and few trees nearby looked charred, marred with blackened spots. The woman’s shoulder rose and fell with heavy breaths. Roen paused momentarily to study the Highlander’s frame before she approached, her sabatons crunching the frosty ground. Something about her seemed... different, but she could not put her finger on what it was. “Of all the places, I did not expect to meet here.” Roen broke the silence as she scanned the snowy alcove around them. Delial always hated the cold. The Highlander turned her head slightly to give her a sidelong glance. “Could do worse than this, I think. Not by much, but… well. Necessity, regardless. It has been sometime, my dear. It is good to see you again.” Roen came to stand next to the woman, both the skirt of her armor and her ponytail whipping about as the north wind whirled around them. "The fact that I had not heard from you, I assumed at least there was no bad news." She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear, looking to the road behind Delial that led to Whitebrim. "How is my brother?" “Gharen is… he's well. Focused. Helping me focus. Though I think he's got -- surely you have heard. Of the happenings in the Shroud." “The news of the war that may be brewing.” Roen nodded. “Kiht paid me a visit to voice her concerns on the matter. I suppose such news would interest him." She paused a moment, before turning back to Delial. "And you too, I would imagine." Delial snorted. "We saw it on our way here -- hanging, silent. Wretched. And still he has thoughts of joining in the resistance. Again." Her eyes rolled and her lips thinned. "That Kiht -- she does not help with it. But I suppose he will do what he thinks is right, foolhardy as it may be. She mentioned that you had similar thoughts." "I feel that it is something I cannot ignore." Roen’s voice lowered. "Although... I fear, my intentions or my hopes for what happens may not be exactly the same as it is for Gharen and Kiht." She bowed her head to hide her doubts. “I do not know what I would seek to do, in truth. What would you do? Could you simply stay out of it?" The Highlander shifted. "I know not, either, truth be told. What could I do? I have been... disgraced, I suppose, from either side. I do not think I belong any more. But it is still home, and it would... I long to see it. I miss it too much to sit back." She exhaled. “There are things yet to attend to, here. I cannot stray for now, as much as I may wish to. And I am not certain if I do." Roen nods. "I suppose we will all find out what is to come in due time." Delial raised an eyebrow. "It is quite plain to me what is going to happen, but -- ah." The woman paused as both of them turned to the sound of another approaching from the road. "So tha's where ye've gone an' snuck off te. Remind me te teach ye how te hide yer tracks, Delial.” Roen recognized the voice immediately and it was only after hearing it that she realized she had missed it so. Her eyes squinted as her brother appeared through the heavy snowfall. “Did ye stop te check on our comatose friend on yer way?" Delial shrugged, giving her heels a bit of a shuffle. "You would have found me regardless, I think. And I did not, alas -- did not wish to keep our guest waiting." "Well, I thank ye fer th' trail o' breadcrumbs te follow lest I miss gettin' te see my dear sister." Gharen came to stand next to them both, giving her a small but warm smile. Roen found herself returning the expression, and it was easier than she thought. There had been a nervous flutter in her stomach lately whenever she anticipated seeing her brother; it was a strange feeling that was both unfamiliar and unwelcome. But their last parting had not been so cordial, with most of the blame falling at her feet. She quickly directed her attention to his physical well-being as she gave him a careful look over; his gait was steady, his stance strong, and he no longer needed the aid of a walking stick. And in that, she felt the anxiety within slowly fading. "Gharen." She uttered his name quietly. "You look well." "Eh, no worse fer th' wear. Nothin' gettin' a boot te th' ass from Osric offa cliff could nae' fix." He shrugged. Roen slowly blinked. Twice. "What was that?" She must have misheard. "Oh, I started trainin' under Osric nae long ago since my other lead dried up.” His tone remained ever casual, as if to purposefully not raise any alarm. “Bastard planted his boot upon my arse an' shoved me inte Nophica's wells." He met his sister’s gaze and grinned, as if amused by the befuddlement he saw there. "So. How've ye been? An' tha' lanky significant other?" "Ah? Is that -- the au ra fellow?” Delial also chose that moment to pipe in. “Or perhaps someone new?" There was a strange hint of mischievous curiosity to the woman’s tone. Clearly, she could not resist gossip. Roen’s brows shot to the sky and she coughed to clear her throat. "Signifi--" She glared back and forth between them. "He is no such -- there is no such thing." She made one slashing motion of her hand as if cutting through the air. "Besides, he has gone home," she said more quietly. "Back to Othard." She also gave Delial a pointed look as if to chide the woman. "And I have time for anyone new. There is a reason I wanted to meet with both of you.” Her head swiveled back and forth, giving both of them a stern reprimanding look. It did not seem to deter Gharen. "Well I thought ye'd make a cute couple." He was met with a dead stare. “A strange boy, that was," Delial said flatly, looking somewhat disappointed. "But... there was news, yes, as I recall." “Well, anyroad.” Roen cleared her throat. “What is this about a comatosed patient? Are you in need of looking after someone?" "You recall that Tengri fellow.” Delial crossed her arms. “A lead he gave us brought us here, and to this... man." Roen frowned. "A man?" "A cavern with a secret room with even more secrets. Least of all, a man simply..." The Highlander woman trailed off, raising her hands to gesture vaguely at herself -- trailing her fingers down, like drapery. "Tubes in his body. Some sort of magitek. We pulled him out of it, and have been keeping him here ever since." She nodded in the direction of Dragonhead, to the east. "He has not yet woken. I am not certain he will." "He looks familiar if'n ye ask me.” Gharen scratched his chin. “I've taken it upon myself te name him Bob if'n only because it'll confuse th' shite out o' him when he awakes, if'n he is who I suspect." "Who do you suspect?" "Jameson Taeros." Roen stared at Gharen wordlessly, her lips parted. It took a moment before she was able to gather her thoughts. "No wonder you have kept a watch on him then. I knew he was in Ishgard. I had learned of it from Edda, when they were still engaged. But... as far as I know, he had disappeared again without a trace." She narrowed her eyes, her thoughts jumping from one thing to another. "They had known each other for a long time, Taeros and Banurein.” "Could nae tell ye anythin about how he got there. But when yer thrown in an underground cell te sweat it out under th' desert, ye tend te remember faces.” Gharen tapped a finger against his temple. “I will say I was pleased te see him jump like a fish out o' water when we tried te wake him ourselves." Delial gave a slow shake of her head. “He was plugged into these... machines. The cave collapsed while we were trying to get out, else we could show you." Roen frowned. "I wonder if she was experimenting on him as well,” she thought out loud. “When did the cave collapse?" "Over a moon ago now, I think. I know not if you have scouted it again.” Delial glanced to Gharen, "But I know I have not bothered myself." "Th' tunnel we took out remains. But I've nae entered again lest there be more surprises waitin' te bury us in th' mountain.” "Then that was not the underground laboratory that I found.” Roen sighed. “There must be multiple facilities. There was another lab that we came across, this one under the Pillars. I am certain that the one we found also is no longer used, our presence there must have been discovered by now." She glanced between Delial and Gharen. "I believe she has made some influential connections within Ishgard. She worked for a cult under the guise of an alchemist. I believe she promised them unnatural results." "I am of the mind she knew of us well before we arrived.” Delial muttered. “Tengri's promise was hollow. It would not be so simple.” She turned her amber gaze toward Roen. "Unnatural results? Of what sort?" “There was a group I was looking into in Ishgard. They had looked to sever their blood heritage with the dragons.” Roen reflexively looked about even though they were only surrounded by ice. “We found some evidence of experimentations that were being done with the Elezens, the Au Ra, the dragonkin… and some ancient artifact." Her gaze darted between Delial and Gharen. “I suspected Banurein to work for them, because I found evidence of both research into the Void and the use of magitek by this group as well. And I know that they hired an outside alchemist for the job.” "It would not be much of a leap, no. Not for someone like her,” Delial growled. “Blood heritage... with dragons?" Gharen scratched his head, clear confusion in his eyes. Roen nodded. "Aye, I am not too familiar with the intricacies of Ishgard's ties with dragons, but historically, through blood of the Knights Twelve, the Elezens of Ishgard carry some trace of dragonblood in their veins. And there are zealots who wished to purge themselves of this influence. They would go through any means to do so.” She paused with an exhale. “I think Banurein may have promised them such results. Although as I understand it, she was only a new addition to their plans. But they had much resources she could have drawn from." Delial squinted, looking puzzled. "Perhaps... what was being done to Taeros -- or whomever that is -- was but a test? I could not even begin to guess what it was meant to do. Perhaps something else entirely." Gharen shook his head. "Tha' woman is like an insect ye cannae swat." "Reeves.” Roen tapped her chin, recalling all that she had discovered in that lab. “That is the name she goes by in Ishgard, I believe." She gave Gharen a sidelong glance. "She may have lasted this long, but now we know the people she has allied herself to outside of Garlemald. And if what you say is true, you also have Taeros." She canted her head. “Do you think she will come for him?" "It is a distinct possibility she already knows o' where he is. An' will come when she requires him." "She has not yet.” Delial shook her head. “If she has been searching for him, surely she would know of a tube-riddled man brought out here. Hardly the sort of case one comes upon often I should think," she grumbled with another shake of her head. "Though I wonder now of Ishgard. If there are others undergoing such treatments?" "I know not, only that there have been bodies that were found on the landscape.” Roen’s voice turned grim. “But none that seemed... experimented on. Only murdered in some ritualistic fashion." “Well,” Gharen said dryly. “It sounds like somethin' right up her alley." Delial hugged her arms a little more closely about herself, settling into a deep frown. "She knows us, of course. And I would wonder if there are those who still remember us -- or me, I suppose, from our last blunder in the Brume. To be frank, I care little enough for Ishgard. Taeros can rot, and I would not care. But if she has my brother yet -- I must know. I care for nothing else." "Of course,” Roen nodded, her eyes lingering on Delial. She has been in her shoes before, so long ago. How strange now that the tables have turned. “I will make my way back to the city and see what I can find. For what it is worth, I have not heard of any Highlanders being found, hurt or otherwise. At least none that fits Harvard's description." "What if we used Taeros as a bargaining chip?” Gharen crossed his arms. “We certainly have nae love fer th' man." Roen gave Gharen a strange look, then stared at nothing particular beyond him. Something within her did not quite like that idea. But she could not say why. "Aye. Perhaps." Delial offered a small nod, her gaze also not quite on either of the siblings. "Anything at all," she muttered. "I would wonder of Taeros' value if she has failed to seek him yet. Unless she is waiting for something." "I know not of her madness,” Roen murmured. “I think it’s worth it.” Gharen nodded in agreement. “She's hauled his fat out o' th' fire before." Delial snorted softly, clearly lacking optimism for the idea. "If it pleases her, I could dress him up in bows, place some color back upon his cheeks. Whatever I must, I will do." "I would rather see her no longer with the world of the living, but..." Roen set her jaw and stared intently at the Highlander woman. "Your brother first." "Well, it is one more idea than we had previously. An a possibility o' gettin' yer brother back, regardless how slim." "Of course. Of course." Delial nodded as she raised her eye to flit between Gharen and Roen. "As ever, you have my gratitude. Both of you. I think I would have gone restless and mad long ago without you." Roen snorted quietly with a small smile, in an effort to reassure the woman. "There are suns, where I still find our circumstances remarkable. It is as if we have come to a full circle." "I have never much cared for the Weaver," Delial muttered. "But at least I can expect I shall not be delivered a bloodied box." That brought an oddly shocked look from the paladin. Just when she thought she understood the woman, Delial would prove her wrong. There was a pause before she spoke again. "Alright. I should get going then. Sooner we know where this Reeves is, sooner we can get your brother back." Delial gave a nod to Roen, a bit more deeply than usual -- quiet and perhaps even a humbled sort of gratitude. "O'course, need te be gettin' in touch with Osric eventually te continue my trainin,” Gharen nodded. “An' th' whole cliff thing had te do with openin' what th' monks call Chakras. Would have been much worse if'n mine had nae been opened before hand." Roen slowly narrowed her eyes at her brother, in scrutiny. "Well, if he throws you off another cliff as the training goes on... I will be very vexed." "I can't expect he would do it twice," Delial added, a note of finality in her voice. Her brother grinned. “Why do ye think I let th' two of ye in on it? Best form o' revenge short o' directly returnin' th' favor." Roen exhaled slowly, but the furrow to her brow eased, just a little. "Well, good. I think." She fell quiet for a moment, just taking some measure of comfort in their familiar presence. "Well, I shall be off. I will send word when I have something to report." "If there is any way I -- we can help you... do not hesitate.” Delial took a step forward. “We will be near." "Aye, we're at th' inn in Dragonhead.” Gharen thumbed over his shoulder eastward. “Already caught Kiht passin' through nae long ago." An amused grin curled Roen’s lips. “Perhaps she is still keeping an eye on you, in her own way." Gharen smiled back. "I don' mind. She is a good ally te have on our side." She was about to turn when one other thought crossed her mind. “Does… Ser Crofte know? Or Edda? Anyone? About Taeros?” "I've nae seen Crofte in... well I'm nae sure how long more'n a cycle I think?" Her brother shook his head. "I have told no one,” Delial said flatly. “I did not think that it could be him." “Hm.” Roen hummed in thought. “No matter. It is entirely possible he will never regain consciousness from what you have said. Perhaps waiting is best.” She nodded to them both one more time before turning and making her way toward the road with haste. There was still much to be done, before the leads they had disappeared like tracks in the snow.

I like you already! Welcome back to the game and welcome to RPC!

Roen has two little minions that were gifted to her, but since she is out and about most days, you won't see them running around unless she is in the city. Then she takes the time to keep them company. She has two different sitters for her little critters, a fat cat that is being looked after at the Forgotten Knight and a grey pup that a noble family in Ishgard treats as one of their own.

Welcome to the RPC! It's always good to see a fresh new face in the Balmung RP scene. I hope you find some great adventures!

Welcome back! I feel like every returning RPer to Balmung is like getting new blood now! Even though you have been here before... so not new! But new-ish face! Or something. Hope you get to stay around this time!

[[ Following the events of these posts here. ]] Potions, leather collars, scalpels, amputation saws, forceps... The long steel tubing of a syringe gleamed pristinely under the artificial light that shined from the ceiling above. White gloved fingers hovered over the array of instruments, occasionally adjusting their position. Raelisanne had long been familiar with these tools, often favored amongst many Inquisitors. She marveled at how effective they were, in transforming the subjects they were used upon. “Are you a truthful and goodly child, Rissa?” She had gained intimate knowledge from her own experiences, after all. The sense of helplessness that came over once the paralysis potion took effect was strangely overwhelming, she recalled. It was as if her body was akin to lead, her limbs too heavy to lift. A part of her idly wondered why the straps around her wrists and ankles were even necessary when the body refused to move. But curiously, goosebumps still crawled up her arms; her skin was still able to feel the chill of the stone basement. She remembered pondering if that was what it was like to be a golem, to have skin that weighed like stone and yet be able to feel the blade when it was cut... Raelisanne also remembered learning the purpose behind the restraints. Because the nerves of her body were still awake to all the sensations, her muscles would go into uncontrollable convulsions when a burning liquid was injected into her veins and all her nerves felt like it was on fire. It was also said that the binds were to prevent self harm. She could appreciate the logical and practical sense behind each instrument. After decades of honing their skills, of course the Inquisition would have refined the methods of interrogations down to a science. She could not remember the exact questions that were asked of her so many years ago, only that it had displeased her father. Lord Lyndon Brooks had remarked once that she had a keen mind, exceptional for her youth. She overheard him wondering out loud if she would someday prove to be worthy of the Inquisition. He believed that one of the most valuable decree of the Inquisitors was their relentless pursuit of truth, unhindered by civility or sympathy. It was his way of trying to relate to his strange daughter who seemed to be most curious about unusual things. A part of her younger self too fancied herself following in her father’s footsteps. Their unapologetic quest for knowledge had been appealing. And yet, through her own interrogation, the girl of fourteen years came to learn that the infallibility of the Church was just a myth and that the Inquisition had no interest in the truth. Was it at the hands of her own father that she had decided she would aim to become much more? “Miss Reeves, the rest of the equipment has been packed.” The breathless voice of her assistant made her turn around. Aurelieaux regarded her carefully, his brows deeply bent with apprehension. The revelation that their main laboratory had been discovered and burglarized had disturbed the Duskwight alchemist greatly. “Shall I… pack those as well?” He glanced to the tools on the table behind her. “Nothing must be left behind,” Raelisanne said, nodding as she made her way back to her desk. Violet eyes gazed upon the opened drawer there, behind which she knew remained an empty compartment where her magitek tablet used to be. It too was gone, along with the mysterious stone bearing ancient allagan runes. It was an opportunity lost; she could not deny her own disappointment at being unable to complete the final step. To have a chance at eliminating a part of someone’s legacy that ran in their veins, to alter what had been etched forever into one’s heritage… it was far beyond the meager goals of her father’s career ambitions. But now the entire project had been thwarted. The keystone’s magic was supposed to enable a rewriting of the memories of anyone they wanted, en masse. It would have far surpassed her own personal research into altering a person’s thoughts and perceptions, which took time and care with each individual subject. Even with all the progress that she had made with Kavir’s preserved blood and eyes, without the keystone, her experiments would have to return to single specimens. Perhaps it was for the best. The variables would be much easier to predict and counter when dealing with a limited number, compared to a large population. The promise that she had made the Court was ambitious and plausible at best, but they were willing to go forth simply on her calculations and theory without an actual successful field test. She had to admit, she herself was curious at the prospect, and was looking forward to seeing the unpredictable outcome. As Aurelieaux ushered the last of the boxes carried by laborers out of the laboratory, Raelisanne scanned the empty shelves and the barren cabinets. So many possibilities this place had held… and now they were lost. Her white-gloved hands were splayed out against the smooth wooden grain of the desk, but slowly her fingers curled inward. It was a setback. Any research worth the effort was bound to face such trials, and she had found ways to adapt and revise her course in the past. Even if it took great sacrifices to do so. “Give me what I need and this will stop. You do want to do right by your father, do you not my dear?” She could still recall clearly the desperation in his voice. How it trembled with fear, but made hoarse with indignation. Absent was the unwavering composure she usually admired in him; but even while his eyes were wide and frenzied, she could see that it was still driven by his single-minded belief that he was in the right. Perhaps that had been the moment when his pursuit of truth was marred by his emotions. He was afraid for his own life and his place within the church. What he wanted was to erase the suspicion of heresy from his family’s name, even if that meant offering up his daughter’s life instead. A soft snort escaped her nose. He had offered up a sacrifice to readjust the course of his ambitions. Perhaps her methods were not too different from her father’s after all. But she would be more than he ever was. He was driven by doubt, jealousy, and fanaticism. Never would such petty emotional fragility cause her to err. “I would do anything for you. Tell me.” Raelisanne glanced up as the chandelier and the lanterns on the wall flickered. She pushed off from the desk and made her way to the exit, tucking her hands into her pockets. The final group of laborers were filing in, ready to grab all else that remained. She ignored the questions that echoed from behind her as a few of them gathered around the center desk and pointed at the deep claw marks that marred its polished surface.

Welcome! Just reading your post, I would not have ever guessed that you learned English just in the last year. That is amazing! Welcome to the RPC! There is plenty of RP to be had, on discord, live in game, and in the forums! I hope you enjoy your stay!

There is an official forum thread on this! http://forum.square-enix.com/ffxiv/threads/324942-Transfer-Restrictions-and-Roleplayers