Ryanti

The three unit members minus their Superior continued to follow P’welro down the bunk bay. While Eightyfive had a look or two beyond the straightforward direction the First Mate was leading her, and Fortythree barely glanced at all, Ryanti on the other hand was seemingly fascinated by the internal bowels of the ship that he would make home for the duration of the mission. It was beginning to become apparent which role each group member played. Fortythree was not interested in virtually anything besides the point in every conversation he took a part in, which tended to be a trend among magi of his kind. Eightyfive was rather impulsive and quick-witted; every matter in which she paid attention to was but briefly a moment in time. She seemed more adept for being in direct support of the rest of the group. As the least experienced one, it was the quickest manner to learn. Ryanti seemed to be the cataloger, the one that would gather information and handle the resources in which would be employed by the unit and also those things procured by the unit. He had the longest attention span, and the most curious of the three. Even now, when P’welro told the group about how the bunks she was highlighting used to be an extra row of cannons, Ryanti had a hand upon a supportive wooden pillar close to the space she was talking about. His eyes became distant in thought as the fading sound of cannon fire and pirates shouting orders in what would have taken place in the recent last decades on the ship entered his imagination. It always seemed that the older the object, the higher of a chance it had served the purpose of both good and evil. Once it was a pirate ship, now it was a vessel of the Barracuda. Ideas were formulated in the minds of men, and objects were constructed to serve their purposes. Unlike men, objects had no free will. They just followed the orders of their masters – the truest of servants. It was why he believed that their recovery of marvels of the past would serve a more just purpose if it was acquired by them. Ryanti’s daydreaming was interrupted by Eightyfive’s sudden confirmation. “Handpicked we are, absolutely. Though I’m afraid only half of it is because of merit, it is probably entirely merit on your crew’s behalf I would assume. Everyone here seems competent.” She recalled, placing a hand on her hip and twisting her waist a tad. “At least the Captain puts in her weight as well.” Fortythree remarked with his Ul’Dahn accent really showing its shine at his sudden surprise at the six-fulm tall woman that had just shown herself. “Oh my – how far must I crane my neck to look this one in the eye?” “Don’t be such a downer so quickly, Fortythree. She can always duck.” Ryanti remarked, one side of his lips curling into a smile. He was impressed by how well she had kept her weapon looking gorgeous. He was hoping to witness a sign in their night guard that would make him feel safe. Someone who gave a damn about their weapon was good enough re-enforcement. Ryanti gave a formal acknowledgement to Berasaem with a palm placed on his pectoral and a slight bow. It betrayed his knowledge of formality, but Ryanti did not care. Fortythree gave her a casual nod, moreso to her torso than her head. Eightfive gave her a little wave, with a laid back grin. All three of them focused their attention upon the room when they were introduced to it. The room was not much, especially compared to an average traveling inn. But besides that point, all of three of them sighed in what was apparently relief. They were happy to even have blankets. A mattress was a happy bonus. A pillow? Luxury. Both Fortythree and Eightyfive took one or two small steps into the room after being introduced to it. “Ah… this will procure much more efficient sleep than recently.” The Lalafell chirped happily. “Ain’t that the truth..” Eightyfive said, and afterwords she briefly eyed the First Mate before continuing her statement. “.. We’ve been sleeping on a floating raft for two days. We had to arrive here anonymously so… no noise.” The Lalafell hmph’d when P’welro mentioned that he wasn’t the only smallfolk upon the ship. He was one of those Lalafells that sometimes didn’t like to be a Lalafell one minute, and loved being Lalafell the next. His reaction was a bit realistic at the inconvenience of wardrobe, though out of everyone else he was the only one not wearing a standard issue uniform as he was magi and had his own set of clothing. Ryanti raised an eyebrow in a bit of a confusing “Huh?” When P’welro told him there might only be women’s clothing available. It did look like there were more women on this ship than men. Ryanti’s body was relatively easy to examine because their uniforms were rather tight and form fitting. He was slender in shape, a feature common in male Miqo’te. His muscular structure was slim, not at all bulky. However, what muscle did exist was as hard as any that could be found on someone. He was taller than average for a Miqo’te male, and he had something in common with Eightyfive and Sixteen: Their bodies were all toned as if designed for endurance, speed, and survival above all else. However, there were some off-putting things about Ryanti’s body if one looked close enough. His leg muscles were not as powerful as a normal Miqo’te male of his stature should be, though stronger than a Midlander’s. However, his upper body was more defined than a Miqo’te male of his stature, yet still more slender than a Midlander’s. He did not utilize his tail or ears for balance; in fact they hardly moved at all, and while his walk was graceful and sly, his standing posture had no hint of feline behavior. Neither did his canines: they were dull. Yet still, he was youthful and well fed and well grown throughout his life, and it showed. A Midlander’s garb would be equally fitting to him as a Miqo’te’s would. “I … would hope you could find something. I am not in the mood to crossdress.” Ryanti snapped his attention afterwords in the other direction towards his two compatriots after hearing a laugh coming out from Eightyfive’s lips. “I think I will be turning in actually – I’d rather skip out on smelling like fish and the sight of –him- in women’s clothing.” A humming noise came from the Lalafell as he retracted his hood and removed the viel from his lower jaw. What was interesting about his now-revealed face was that right below his Auburn hair on the left side was a metal plate that was shaped oddly, and covered his left temple. There was another metal plate that covered a section of his lower jaw, also on the left side of his face. It would appear that he had parts of his skull blown off of his very face yet it was repaired by technology a slight step up from what could be accessed publicly. “I would rather turn in than continue as well. We have been through much already – we will need the rest.” Ryanti calmly placed both hands upon his hips, and nodded a few times in a slow, methodic manner at the both of them. “Alright. You both make sure you get some sleep then. I am going to remain with P’welro for a while longer – to see the rest of this place.” He turned around to face the First Mate, with a bit of a warm smile that sparkled his eyes to mimic the sun reflecting off of the water of the ocean. “I don’t ever sleep very well while on a mission. Besides, I need to acquire the case back from the Boss before we all retire. Oh, and… if numbers trouble you, you can just call me Sevy?” Eightyfive had undone her hair rather swiftly and shook her locks free of her loose bun, her hair falling to about shoulder blade length. “Taking advantage of every chance to be alone with the ladies, Seventy-Seven?” She said with a mischievous laugh. She was the unit’s harshest teaser. “Do come back relatively soon.” The Lalafell added, not reacting to her tease at all as he vanished into the room. Ryanti certainly reacted though, with a sigh and a fold of his arms, shaking his head yet not looking too pissed off. “Her mouth is a living hell…” ____________________________ We understand better than most. For some reason, Jonathan already knew she would say that. But perhaps his thoughts were not entirely found on intuition. This crew and this ship were chosen by the Overseers for a very good reason. Jonathan had no knowledge of whether this was the first joint operation in his unit’s short but turbulent history, as people of his position were not informed of other missions taking place for the sake of even further layers of secrecy. However, he did understand the Overseers were interested in having these joint operations run as smoothly as possible. The comparing to the Ironworks was a good enough comparison to make. The Ironworks was de-classified and everyone practically knew they were learning by reverse engineering Garlemald technology. This was similar. Though they were not learning most of their knowledge from Garlemald, rather Amdapor, Nym… and the most secretive of all, ancient Allag. Sixteen’s expression did not change as the Captain maneuvered herself from her desk to the wine cabinet. Though once he realized she was looking for fruity drink, his lips could not help but curl into a little smile. His lips corked a bit when she placed the bottle upon the desk. He could smell the aroma from where he stood. “Of course.” He answered to her question of whether or not he would partake. Sixteen had a measure of respect for custom and ritual. His unit had some of their own, though they had not partaken in any yet. “You become a spiritual man after doing this long enough.” With that, he clasped the wine glass under his own fingers with a bit more of a sophisticated flare than his rugged self would have been capable of if someone had judged him on looks alone. He listened to her words intently, silently making his own prayer to the very God his unit tended to make prayer to – Nyemia – as she was quoting those ancient words. He participated in drinking the wine with her, even going so far to down it all at the same pace she did, so that they would present an empty glass evenly. He was quick to adapt like that, as it was necessary for his job. Whether it be a simple ritual, or a life or death situation. His stare was powerful. Piercing. He had a presence about him that hid any flaws in his demeanor extremely well. While Sounsyy was putting away the bottle, Jonathan spoke while looking through the wine glass to see his distorted image, spinning the glass ever slowly to catch the reflection of the moonlight coming in. “If you do perish upon the sea, pray it not be in the Indigo.” He replied after a bit of silence. He formulated a slight smile of his own, a bit of a rough smile. “Else one of mine may be a little disappointed.” Oh, he had known. He knew that one of his group knew her. They exchanged glances too often while they were in conversation. Jonathan was in the habit of reading everyone’s expression during conversation. He was almost always analyzing. He was watching her when she locked her eyes on Ryanti, and watching Ryanti keep his eyes on her as she turned her back to him. “You should be proud that your crew is loyal beyond explanation. Having others place their faith in you is something many in the position of leadership take for granted. It has been a long time since I have had a courtesy sipping. We don’t get much of a chance to. Thank you.” With that moment of reflection gone, Jonathan placed the glass upon the desk facing Sounsyy’s. “It would be logical for us to be awake nocturnally to avoid detection upon your vessel. But if there is anyone who operates by logic, it is Garlemald. Therefore it requires we operate irrationally by proving we have nothing to hide when we actually do. So, my unit will be invisible within yours for the time being. I have previously informed my men to expect to be assimilated within your crew. It would be realistic to assume they themselves have already proposed such a thing to your First Mate. It would include myself, of course. We could disguise our actual task by claiming to be catching seafood for the soldiers of the Maelstrom or delivering Military Mail... I'm sure you can come up with something.” He calmly lifted the case that housed the ancient anomaly off of the desk, never tucking it within an arm or anything wreckless like that. Rather he kept his grip on both sides of the case, directly in front of him. "Seventy-Seven is the keeper of this artifact. However, I must also see to it that this case is stored in the most effective location you have on this ship in regards to carrying extremely important assets. If you may show Seventy-Seven this location before you retire, I would be grateful. Thus my duty comes to an end for the evening, and afterwards I will retire as soon as possible so that your crew can do their jobs, and we may set sail on schedule.”

This may be their mission, but it was her ship. Nothing reinforced that statement further than the actions that she decided to take towards Sixteen’s company. There was very little to be argued with that fact. It was as set in stone as the promise of the sun rising the next morning. Sixteen’s eyes, colored a light brown, did not leave the Captain’s gaze as she explained this matter to everyone involved. His stare could be described as tired. There were in fact shades of dark blue huddling underneath his eyes. A sort of wear; a fatigue that would only plague men older than him or so it seemed. But while his expression was neutrally tired, the spark in his eyes was a burning flame of steel resolve that could endure many times the normal man’s hardship without much long term consequences. He was a stone pillar in the middle of a tempest’s wake. Then the moment came. She had inquired that they be searched. This was not a statement that the unit wanted to hear, but Sixteen saw it coming. However, he was the only one that did. Fortythree was the single individual that had virtually no emotion on his face once the procedure began. He did not need a petty staff, many alchemical tinytubes, or a rune prism to perform all of his techniques. Of course, all of them were confiscated now. They would have to cut his arms off for that to happen. He was the only one that did not have a revolver sidearm. Eighty-five’s ears twitched and stiffened up for a moment or two after hearing Sounsyy. An audible sigh came from the back of her throat as she rested the palms of her hands behind her head and tilted her hip in a single direction, becoming tired of where she stood. She lightly tapped the balls of her feet against the wooden floor, turning impulsive when things were being invasive. She gave those that reached a little too far a skeleton-frying death glare of a thousand Thanalan suns. But the one most affected by the invasiveness was Ryanti. Not so much with the actual process, but with the thoroughness of what he likened to a nudering of his unit. He did not bother to move when the order was given. The tips of his fingers tightened themselves upon the lockbox, as a hot rush spread amongst his body from his core diaphragm. He was ready to handle any attempt to take the box away from him. He glanced downward towards the shimmering polished surface of the lockbox, witnessing his own dim, melancholy reflection of a young man he half hated. He rubbed his thumb gently upon the box as he felt himself being searched. As easy as it would be for a man like him to enjoy being patted down by a toned woman, he felt no joy in this. He did not like this tension between the two groups. This was exactly why they told him over and over again, that the world is not ready. Ryanti had the most equipment out of all them. There was a lot of what could be called spelunking tools in his tool belt. There was a grappling hook, a small pick, rope, several high tech pieces of climbing joints and pins and equipment designed to dust things off. He was obviously the one that took care of their findings. Ryanti also had the most mementos; a total of two. One was a necklace with a Lion’s head and mane, plated in gold, with ruby red eyes. It was his Father’s, previously, though he did not feel worthy enough yet to wear it. The other was a single pedal of a white rose, plucked on the eve of his journey and slowly withering away on his person. A reminder of what the world could do to you if you take nothing in for a long time. Their revolvers felt heavy and had a high caliber, roughly the same rounds a Garlean Legatus would use in their forearm-mounted guns if they chose to roll out with such a setup. This piece of equipment were like the rest in that they were made with premium quality in mind, and had no manufacturer’s label nor company name embellished upon it or otherwise. It was safe to say none of this equipment existed in any sort of inventory registry. Adding to the equipment they all carried were countless small tools for exploring, some survival rations, a compass, an aether counter, and of course the extraordinarily well-crafted Sharlayan goggles that they all possessed. This was their most valuable possession next to their guns. They were made of high quality steel with periodic gold trimmings to further augment the aetherial channels that the piece built up during its usage for more power efficiency. One searching them would notice that the goggles come with three modes on the switch that turns them on. Night vision, thermal vision, and a third mode that remained unmarked. “I’m fine sleeping with the boys.” Eightyfive mentioned to Sounsyy’s polite or rather necessary request to separate herself from her male kin. “I fell asleep with these men on a rowboat no larger than that Roe in the back. A solitary room is good enough of an upgrade.” Their eyes followed Fruhsunn lift the incredibly heavy crate with a bit of exertion on his own, showing that he in fact was a living being and not Titan himself shrunken down to a civilian size. There was a bit of anxiety for that unit, though they didn’t show it. They had always had moments of anxiety and high stress in situations that they have faced in the past. All four of them had worked separately in previous assignments, but these assignments all came with the same amount of stress. “It’s more like we’re hostages rather than a co-op.” Fortythree whispered bitterly, in a voice only audible to the other three of Sixteen’s company. Ryanti lightly bit his lower lip at the thought. There he was, witnessing with his own eyes his very means of being able to do what he could do disappearing into the hallway. It did not feel good to be pulled away from what was your job. There was a duty that their unit had too. Part of that duty involved never being separated from your equipment, for it can be regarded as greater than or equal to the value of your life. It was bitter. Bitter as even the light around them illuminated Ryanti’s face in a calm golden glow. The twitching light of the wicker’s fire bounced off of his strong aquamarine eyes as he laid witness to Sounsyy’s injury for the first time. He did not remember that before, but he did not trust himself to rule out the possibility that he just didn’t notice. It made him feel a brief feeling of sadness, and guilt. So she couldn’t trust him? He could see that. But it felt heavy to know that she might think he would try to do the same thing to her. To take another something away. He could not help but feel that he might accidently do so, and that bothered him. He had never been on a mission with someone he knew outside of this occupation before. He found himself watching her a little more. Trying to understand. The arrival of Marjanie reminded Ryanti that he had seen two kinds of individuals on this ship so far. Grizzled, scruffy, salty seaborn-bred sailors like P’welro, and… graceful, elegant, toned individuals that had shape in the right places and presence that demanded a double take and perhaps a lingering eye. What was Marjanie? The latter. What was Sounsyy then? Both? That cheered Ryanti up a little bit. Though when he looked at Sounsyy again, her eyes seemed to leer him into his light smile fading away. He felt small in this room. Like he didn’t belong. It was a relief to him when P’welro continued the tour. Eightyfive reached her hands behind her head to fix the knot of hair that she herself had. It took a captain to remind her that hers was getting loose. The three followed P’welro diligently, Fortythree was not really curious about his surroundings while Ryanti was. The Lalafell kept his stare straight while the Hyqo’te young man glanced up and around, admiring how the lanterns and the ropes and accessories that hung from the wooden walls of the place added an element of Limsan charm to the insides of the ship. “How old would you say this ship is, P'welro?” Ryanti mentioned, gripping his hand softly upon one of the netted ropes that was hanging from the wall. “Did it always look like this from the inside?” “Really?” Eightyfive coined with a smirk, loving to death to prey on one of Ryanti’s mannerisms. “Are you going to embark on one of your quests for knowledge again at the price of wasting valuable hours that could be spent sleeping?” “You have plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead.” Fortythree coined with a Lalafellian accent straight out of the desert. “You’re usually on my side!” Eightyfive shot back, feigning an exaggerated form of surprise with the Lalafell, although part of her actually was. “I flip back and forth.” The Lalafell responded. Ryanti chimed in next, “Plus we have P’welro here to tuck us in.” It seemed like this unit did not forget how to have fun during their off time. The truth was they needed such. It helped keeped them sane in a job that worked very well at ripping it away. “At any rate, perhaps one thing we need to look at is your wardrobes.” Fortythree mentioned after the joking died down. “He has a point.” Ryanti added, tapping his finger upon a shoulder of his, emphasizing and highlighting what they were wearing. “This ship needs to look like it is on the most normal and boring voyage – if you have any pieces of clothing to spare, we would rather look like part of your crew than who we really are. We would not want to tip off anyone that we are even here.” Ryanti’s accent was a bit posh, and his grammar was proper. A sharp contrast. “I suppose that also means we can supplement your crew if anything. It does look like you could use some more hands.” Eightyfive said, crossing her arms. “We could assimilate, if temporarily. It’s obvious that there is a trust problem here, and –“ Ryanti spoke then. “We would like to try to fix that, right?” He placed a hand on his hip, smiling warmly at his female companion, although part of him realized he perhaps was not going to be the most comfortable crewmate, though maybe exploring something new such as that would be exciting? ___________________________ Sixteen quietly followed the captain to her quarters. All that could be heard from him were his calm footsteps, which barely even made an impression upon the wood. The man was naturally light on his feet, even after acquiring the lockbox from Ryanti. His lips were illuminated by the soft candlelight, though any features that lied above the bridge of his nose were still obscured by the darkness. He kept a neutral, but very serious demeanor about himself. His facial features had not moved an inch since he was below deck. He did nod in acknowledgement when Sounsyy pulled up the stool for him to sit, but he did not take the offer. He approached the desk in front of them, and then turned around in a military manner by swiftly kicking his heels to face the other way. This was done as a precaution, to make sure no one, not even the Captain, laid eyes on exactly how the box was unlocked. ”I’m sure I do not have to reiterate the level of classification regarding the discussion we are about to have. This conversation is regarded in the highest level of secrecy, and if disclosed, it will compromise the integrity of both Sharlayan, and the Eorzean Alliance. This conversation will never be allowed to be recorded on public record, nor will I acknowledge its existence after the fact.” One of his hands manuveared to unbutton the first button of his uniform, located near his collar. It was unknown whether or not that movement was a movement required to unlock the box, or if it was meant as a distraction or a diversion. A small click was heard not sure after, and Sixteen shifted his feet back to face her. The lock was undone, but the box was still closed. If Sounsyy were to look where he had unbuttoned his collar, more of his skin was exposed. It was then disclosed that Sixteen’s body had an obscene amount of scarring on his body. From what could be seen, it was as if someone had taken a razor blade and had deliberately cut him in thousands of places on his body to torture him. This carnage of scars began at his collarbone level. With another sound, a side compartment of the box opened, revealing a pair of specific black gloves that Sixteen proceeded to place on his hand. They looked like a jeweler’s gloves, although their purpose was not to keep the object from dust or fingerprints but rather keeping the excess aether from leaking into his body through his fingers. “I will now fully entail what we know.” Sixteen mentioned, glancing down at the now unlocked box. “And disclose enough information for you to be able to fulfill all of your potential duty as Captain of this vessel. You were selected by my higher-ups because of your track record and your history of handling sensitive material that may be classified military standard. This may be your most sensitive piece of material yet.” Sixteen gathered his breathe, and released it via a sigh. A moment of silence followed, before he spoke again. “Our unit is part of a select group of individuals that are fighting an invisible war. It is no secret that Garlemald utilized a weapon of war capable of squashing the primal threat in the matter of moments. This report, this entire sequence of events was not because Garlemald dived headfirst into research and were able to develop such a maniacal device capable of complete obliteration of godly beings, no. That is not the truth.” His eyes flickered up to meet Sounsyy’s, with a strong, piercing gaze, keeping his voice down anyway, despite the levels of privacy he was promised. “Hydealyn is a very old planet, with a very long and winding history. It would be arrogant for civilizations to believe that they know every chapter, every tale, of Hydealyn’s history. It is believed that this continent was settled by our ancestors who created such civilizations as Amdapor and Nym. While there is an element of truth to that, it is reality that the tale of Eorzea’s beginning is… told with a narrow mind, and partially falsified.” His hands maneuvered near the lock of the box, ready to lift it up. “Even after millennia since Hydealyn’s last cycle of civilizations, we are nowhere close to understanding, to comprehending, those who came before. In the most present day, we are making discoveries that baffle even our top researchers and give us but merely a glimpse into a peephole of an entire reality that existed far, far before our ‘beginning’ as a people. Countless years in the past, our understanding of our world reached an unimaginable apex. Our war concerns a cycle extinct to the world’s witness for so long that for eons it remained a complete unknown to present peoples. Until now. Until the Empire. Ultima was a not a weapon of Garlemald’s. It was a weapon of… theirs.” And with that, he slowly opened the box. Was first emerged from Sixteen’s side was that his face was illuminated by a soft cyan light that seemingly pulsated in phases where it shined brightly, then faded, then brightly again. Every time the phase shined brightly, it emitted a humming sound foreign to anyone that had not been around artifacts of this civilization before. To a learned man like Sixteen, it was a hum of machinery and technology woven in magical aether on a limitless scale that he had trouble comprehending until a decent amount of time under service. “Garlemald reasoned that if they could uncover the deepest, darkest secrets of the most distant past, that they could reverse engineer their discoveries. If they succeed, they will absolutely dominate the rest of the known world and beyond without question. Ultima was only the beginning to them. In retaliation for Garlemald’s actions, the Eorzean Alliance and the city state of Sharlayan cooperated in a joint effort to form a top secret counterintelligence unit to prevent Garlemald from further discovery by intercepting their findings and beating them to the punch, so that whatever benefits may be had from mining the knowledge of eons past can be utilized in the right hands or destroyed alright if the world is not ready. Us four are part of that unit, and the reason why we are classified in the highest levels of secrecy is because the world is not ready.” He paused for a moment, letting that sink in for a moment before he reached into the box, placing his fingertips upon the humming, pulsating object inside. “This is where you come in. A fisherman on Cinderfoot River came across this inactive object and tried to pawn it like a piece of jewelry in the Ul’Dahn markets. A merchant, suspicious of forgery, turned it into the authorities, specifically the Immortal Flames. Upon discover of its origin, it was immediately whisked away into the black label of the Eorzean Alliance, and transported to Sharlayan for study. That was when the object activated.” With that, the moment finally came. Sixteen lifted the object from the box’s clutches, and presented it for Sounsyy to see. There was an element of strangeness when looking at it directly. It was as if one would feel lighter in weight, and it would cause a warm, tingling feeling the closer someone was to it, and the longer they would stare at it. It was mostly a square shape, though it was slotted at the top, as if I was a key of some sort. It was made out of an unknown composite metal forged in a completely unknown manner with a level of skill beyond anything the present day could even try to match. The red ‘veins’ within the device pulsated from a bright red to a cyan blue every few seconds, continuing to hum with that very same pulse. “This anomaly has to pull to it, detectable if you place your bare hands upon it. After this anomaly activated, it provided the researchers with a location. A location that the anomaly seemed to pull them towards. One researcher in particular was compelled to write down nautical coordinates, which are those very same coordinates we have provided your crew, and which ultimately lead to the bottom of the Indigo Deep, far out to sea. This device is calling us there, and we need to investigate. We need to figure exactly what it is pulling us to find, and why. And we need to do this before Garlemald finds out. Twelve knows what they would do with what they find…” He slowly maneuvered the anomaly back into the box, and closed it with a click. “So our intentions are to dive into the ocean and find out where it is leading us. The repercussions of this have the potential to affect the course of history for the entire planet – as do all of our missions. My men would die a million times over to enrich the world with this lost knowledge, and protect it from falling into the wrong hands. If you and your crew love their nation and this world, then I would expect the same of them. I know it is asking much, but...” He slowly took his gloves off, and rested them upon the desk. They felt tingly, as if infected with static electricity. “I need them, Captain, and I need you. We need all the help we can get, and you may explain to your crew the importance behind this minus the details if you wish. I have the intention for everyone to understand the significance of this.”

The unit quietly followed the thickly built Fruhsunn on the pier. Their dialogues ceased, and the demeanor of the four individuals became silent and stoic. The Lalafell seemed unconcerned about what lied above his field of vision, though it was Ryanti and his Miqo’te companion that spotted the Elezen upon the gunwale. Although they didn’t show it, they were rather pleased that this crew was taking this mission seriously. Ryanti could not help but blink and let out a curious sigh at the sighting of the first mate. She looked in every bit of a word someone born to the sea. He had never seen anyone so embroidered in jewelry and someone so south in the Lominsan accent. It was as if she had popped right out of a picture book. This voyage was going to be interesting indeed. The Midlander stayed silent, and did not seem to acknowledge the First Mate’s words by doing anything else but following her lead. In truth, he was analyzing every bit and piece of these first few tidbits of introductions. He understood that, because this was a joint mission, it was a variable unknown of how the other half of this mission’s party would react. He could not afford to give them as much initial faith as he would one of his own, and he understood that they felt the same way about them. As they approached further into the hold, Ryanti glanced about at the ambient light the lantern cast upon the empty gundeck. It was a soft light that, while accenting the area with that ‘warm, loving’ Limsan feel’, was a little less light than he expected. The Midlander in front of them cricked his neck a bit, as if popping a cramp there. In reality, it was a signal to expect a ruse. He had suspected this ever since he was not greeted by the Captain herself. It was why the entire unit did not seem all that startled when their tour guide First Mate pulled a gun on them. The Midlander seemed the least startled, having absolutely no sign of agitation when being cornered from every angle as the possibility of death became a reality. The Lalafell was the most eccentric group member; therefore he seemed the most agitated by the sudden stick up. Ryanti looked a tad uncomfortable having a spear being pointed at him, the same with his partner that stood adjacent to him. She seemed the most fearful out of all of them; she had death stare her in the face a little less often than the rest of the group, due to her being a bit more green. Still, this unit was assimilated into a very hostile and untrusting world, full of greed, power, and of course death. This was their world. Their reality. Still, one would have the instinct to defend themselves. They were certainly not taught to suppress that instinct. Rather the opposite. And so, both Ryanti and # 85 had their free hands arched in draw, and # 43’s staff began to rise vertically to the floor. Though, right after the first phrase of the ship’s Captain was spoken, # 16 raised his hand to hiatus the unit, a serious look on his face. “Go ahead.” The Midlander said to the two holding the crate. “It’s okay.” Slowly, and hesitantly, the other two complied, lowering the heavy wooden crate that composed half of their cargo down upon the floor where they stood. Beyond being a dignified maker of orders, it also appeared that the Midlander knew how to lessen tension within his men as well. Upon standing back up from hunching over, Ryanti’s aquamarine eyes that reflected every tiny bit of light that hit it met Sounsyy’s right back. He sucked in his next breathe with an element of surprise. His eyebrows tensed up and he stilled his gaze in a dose of legitimate shock, but above all else, concern. He was almost embarrassed to realize that the very Mirke the Maimer he had challenged in a friendly spar in the recent past happened to be the Captain of the very Squadron assigned to this joint mission of theirs; embarrassed two-fold at having to meet again this way, on the bad side of her barrel. Well, her crew’s anyhow. He felt at least briefly at ease to know that Sounsyy wasn’t herself armed. “I understand your need for precaution, Captain.” The Midlander replied to her once she asked her the golden question he had expected of her. “As well as any negative impression one might have about being left in the dark. I admit, our interests do not generally result in joint-task operations. Rest assured that the secrecy behind this mission exists for a very good reason. However, I understand that both of our entities will be working most intimately with one another. Because of this, I will offer partial disclosure of our intentions, as well as display the materials of interest.” “Jonathan… “ The female Miqo’te blurted out in a whisper that reeked of concern and emotion. The Midlander narrowed his eyes, and seemed to be wrestling with himself over the decision. However, he was not planning to change it, now after what Ryanti said next. “Let them see.” The young man murmured, nodding his head slowly and agreeing with his commanding officer’s decision. “It is the only way they will understand the severity of the task before them.” The female Miqo’te clenched her teeth and allowing them visible by parting her lips. She seemed really stressed about the matter, but the decision was made. The Lalafell, indifferent until now, made a comment himself. “I hope you know what you are doing.” He addressed to the Midlander. “I do.” The Midlander mentioned. “I am number sixteen of one-hundred and thirty-six of our specific entity. You may call me Jonathan, and I am the leader of this strike team. The Miqo’te lady you see before you is number eighty-five. The Lalafell under my command is the number of forty-three. Finally, the young man left is number seventy-seven. Treat these numbers as their names, I insist.” The Midlander glanced behind him and nodded. After he did so, both Ryanti and number eighty-five placed their hands upon the roof of the crate, jolting it a few times so hard that the crate itself moved, before finally opening the top of it. The wood did not creak nor squeak when they pulled open the top for it was newly assembled and well taken care of. Upon reaching down, the two lifted out what appeared to be two wetsuits. They were very slickly designed, pitch black and with various intricacies sewn into the fabric. Partially hidden by the dark environment, on could only tell that those intricacies and gadgets sewn onto the suite were chrome in nature. They looked top-of-the-line in technology, rivaling anything Garlemald could replicate with their own efforts. “The rendezvous point is a scheduled dive that needs to take place. The objective is situated at the bottom of the Indigo Deep. We are unsure if Garlemald has knowledge of what has been found by our sources. If they do, however, they will not hesitate to lay claim to what lies down there.” The Midlander took a single step to the side, turning his gaze towards the two. “Go ahead and take the weapons out as well. You have my word Captain that they are not armed, please do not be alarmed.” After nervously glancing at one another, the two did as complied. One by one, they pulled out what appeared to be two rifles of some kind by the rail top carry handles. However, they looked incredibly foreign from any kind of musket. They were made of steel, and other heavy metals. They averaged three fulms in length, and weighted a fair bit as what could be told by how loud of a sound they made when they were softly laid upon the floor. There was an opening on the sides of these rifles where a horizontal magazine could be inserted, and the next pieces of equipment they pulled out were those magazines; long strips of metal encasing metal cartilages neatly lined up. They placed those next to the rifles. They were also top of the line. It was obvious by this point that this 'mission' was serious. “We are also armed with standard short swords, and small-arm pistols, that are currently on our person. At any rate, that is what is in that crate, and that, plus what is on our person, is the firepower and technology provided for us to complete missions of the highest importance and greatest secrecy. They are more valuable than our lives, as our objectives are too.” The Midlander turned around and notioned to Ryanti. “Hand me the VIA.” Ryanti stared at him for a brief moment, before shifting his glance to Mirke briefly, and then to the small, seemingly insignificant black lockbox that they were also carrying. Ryanti closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Are you… going to open this? In front o-” “No. I am not.” Jonathan interrupted him, gently taking the box away from Ryanti’s hands, presenting it by facing the Captain. However, he did not inch the box towards her in a manner of acceptance. Instead, he kept it close to him, and made it very important to what he was about to say next. “What lies in –here-, however, is what makes this mission severe, and what makes this mission extremely dangerous. Very powerful individuals would pay with blood and bottomless coffers to obtain this, and this is what we must protect. As long as we are in possession of what lies inside of this box, we are in the interests of the entire Empire, as well as anyone willing to utilize it for evil means against the forces of mankind.” He gently placed a hand of his on top of the timid lock box. “We need this to get where we need to go. We need this crew to get where we need to be to use it. If you truly wish to know what is inside this box, it will have to be for the Captain’s eyes only. And I mean –only-. Whoever in your government believes they need to know, I will say that those in your government that need to know already know. I cannot emphasize enough that this is not a something to be taking lightly at all. This is why I will grant permission for the Captain to bear witness to it at a later time if she so chooses. Out of upholding the integrity of this unit, we will die before compromising any further on that matter. I place my faith in this crew's loyalty towards their Captain to keep what she may choose to witness to only within the walls of this ship.” He handed the black lockbox back to Ryanti, who held onto it firmly, staring down at it with a measure of concern. The Midlander crossed his arms, glancing back at the Captain. “That is your mission’s briefing in its entirety. We will arrive at the destination and do our job and you do yours; at the end of it, we hand over our discoveries to Sharlayan, which will be of interest to both the Alliance and Sharlayan and cripple the efforts of the Empire. Granted, I could only afford to brief you all once we got here. I did not plan on giving this briefing to this crew in such a manner, but I understand that unorthodox units face unorthodox situations. Still, I cannot force anyone on this ship to go through with it. Just know that if you go through with it, you cannot turn back. So, will you accept?”

[align=center][/align] It was the beginning of what would be a long and dark evening. The salty wind of the ocean rode upon the feint wind of the open sea hugging Vesper Bay, taunting Thanalan soil with the taste of open water. The air was not too harsh to the skin however; the weather was calm and clouds were thin. It was neither too hot, nor too cold. Beyond the wind's influence, the night was still. Beyond the first moon's loving embrace, the stars were out. They would be the only witness to what events would play on the Vesper Bay coast line. The tide was low and calm. The hour was near. From the shadows of the open water, near the tall cliff parallel to the bay, came a small wooden raft. It was no larger than a simple rowboat. The oars had long stopped gracing the water's edge with its thick paddles. The boat rode the tide, and the oars were merely used to keep it on course. There were four individuals on board, cloaked in black from head to toe. One was a Hyuran Midlander, with short black hair and tanned skin of Thanalan's sun. One was a female Miqo'te Seeker, her dirty blonde hair tied up loosely in the back of her head with feint peach skin. One was a auburn-haired Lalafell, his lower jaw hidden by a black veil, his robes more tightly strung than an average man of magic, and more utensils hanging from his belt than any average scholar. The other was of a Hyqo'te with platinum white hair. Materials like grappling hooks, chisels and pouches lined his belt. The Hyqo'te took a few good breaths, the humid air of the sea below him doing well to soothe his dry, nervous throat. He had reasons to be tense. For the past few weeks, he had been resting at his home city. To recover from what he felt like was a kind of... depressing fatigue. It was as if he was sick, but he was not sure what it was. He had just felt encumbered, and his jumbled nightmares of voices and flashes did not do well the job of alleviating him from stress. He had felt better though, so this was his first mission back on the job. It brought heaps of nerves and loads of pressure, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. It was worth the chance to experience all of what his job brought to him. Even now, he was resting one of his hands upon the cargo of the rowboat. There was a small notion inside of his subconscious, a notion of connecting with something; A feeling overcame him that felt long lost with what lied inside. Behind them were two boxes of varying size. The first box touched the bottom of the rowboat, and was made of wood. It looked very similar to an industrial wooden crate that could be found anywhere in the back alleys of Ul'Dah. However, the second box deviated from the norm. It was a rather small box compared to the much larger crate design, black in its color and seemingly made out of steel or perhaps something even stronger. It was a lockbox of some kind, protected by a keyhole that presumably one of them had access to. [align=center] [/align] This was what the Hyqo'te was resting his palm upon. "So why do you think we aren't getting orders anymore from the Alliance?" The female seeker said to the Hyuran Midlander, who looked a bit older than everyone else. The Midlander stayed silent for a moment, before glancing over to her briefly and then rearing his head back where it needed to be, in front guiding the boat to the coastline. "I'm not sure, 85." He replied to her, with a deep voice, addressing her by a number. "I too have noticed the lack of action from our Overseers." The three individuals motioned their eyes towards the Lalafell, who spoke next and with a rather snappy accent. "We were told to move this VIA to Source Command." The Lalafell stated. His eyes, though rendered invisible by the darkness of the night, thinned in lecture. "Source Command speaks for the Overseers and it is inconsequential if the Overseers remain silent on the matter, we have our orders despite the lack of communication occurring across the Net of Command." "He has a point." The Hyqo'te chimed in, with a rather posh accent. "It may be our only order, but we have them. Who knows? We may not be needed as much as we used to be." "Keep your hands off that, number 77! Else it would find itself being clumsily pushed off at the bottom of the ocean!" The Lalafell exclaimed, having realized that the Hyqo'te had his hand upon the box. "Easy, 43." The Midlander commented, as it was obvious that he was the leader of this group of four. "We have arrived at any rate." He murmured as the tip of the rowboat graced the floor of sand, cushioning it in what would forever be its resting place until someone's lucky day granted them a rowboat for the taking, having never known the role it played in the great aspect of things. [align=center] The footprints that they would leave in the sand would fade with the wind in the matter of minutes. The Miqo'te and Hyqo'te picked up the large crate by the handles on its short sides. It was a heavy crate, and so their movement shuddered with the weight as they maneuvered it off of the boat. "Make sure you possess your necessary equipment. Keep your essentials on your person at all times." The Midlander mentioned, his Sharlayan goggles hooked vertically near his collarbone. The rest tapped their own collarbones to make sure as well. It was then that the docked ship came into their view clearly for the first time. Such a sight brought a second wind to the hearts of the four individuals lugging what could be one of the most valuable pieces of anomolic discoveries the soil had seen in eons. Seeing that his men were pleased with their accommodation for the mission, the 36 something year old quoted from his briefing journal. "Introducing one of the Third squadron's frigate-class vessels, the Roehmerl. Impressive, isn't it?" " "This might be one of our most fortunate situational concurrences for sure, number 16." The Lalafell replied, seemingly pleased, which was rarely seen for him. It wasn't like any of them were expected to know that though. Like most of the missions this unit had undertaken, they were only introduced to their partners at the very beginning of it, and rarely ever saw them again by the end of it. If they were still alive. This was how it was. This was how it must be. At least for now. Until the world was ready. Well, perhaps it could of been that way. But like how people always are, they could never find themselves to be so cold, so often. At least to one another, for they were on the same side, and they believed in the same values. Values the Tactical Operations Unit of the 8th Levy shared. So in fact, they did know. Which ended up in them making some snarky giggles towards the Lalafell. The guard who stood at the middle of the pier noticed them coming, and read himself a little note he had made about their arrival, and what to expect. Four individuals, two boxes of cargo, coated in black and heading straight for him without deviating direction. It appeared that this was the group he was supposed to flag down. However, he didn't have to do so, for he was already flagged down by them. "Tell your superior that we have arrived." The Midlander said, while the Miqo'te Seeker made an offhand comment: "And that we better get situated quickly because my arms are killing me holding this thing." "I second her.." The Hyqo'te next to her noted, gazing his eyes towards the vessel itself wondering... if the Captain and the Captain's crew was going to be to his liking or not. Who knew?

Miqo'te originally migrated from Meracyida...? That has the potential to foresee major implications for the future. Amazing confirmation there, and that's a lot for me to think about.

Watching AMV's while wasted out of my mind. 'Room punch' at cons. Lending my voice to shady internet doickeys.

It would probably be an educational opportunity for Ryanti. Having never been outside of Eorzea and rather eager to learn about things beyond those borders, he would be outright curious, and would probably spend some time observing Au Ra before approaching them. He'd be rather studious about it. Maybe would ask a ton of questions to an Au Ra open-minded enough to answer them. If they exist.

Or a Doman military scout who finds delicious irony in turning Garlemald's weapons against them. Or a bounty hunter who had a pair of crystal-powered energy guns made to go with his stolen/upgraded Garlean armor. Or a retired Flames soldier who finds that a carbine-type weapon doesn't agitate his injury and makes a good ranged weapon aside from hand throwing axes. Or a combat mage who keeps a high-caliber semiautomatic squirreled away for emergencies. Or a guy who fell through a rift to another world is perfectly normal, thank you very much, and does freelance "ambassadorial" work for the Maelstrom. Or somebody who does work covered up by the government using technology classified by said government that's more valuable to said government then his own life. :cactuar: Machinist is proving to be a very versatile job to satisfy many RP tastes. I can't wait to see the different kinds of gun models and what people do with them. This also means several other implications. It means technology is beginning to become embraced in Eorzea. I can imagine desperation being the cause a new era of unseen technological heights in Aldenard. Very meaty stuff. Are we going to be in the middle of a renaissance?

For the record, if anyone thinks and/or thought that I was one of those people that stopped hanging around here because I recently came back and got scared away because arguments/drama/tension/angry Eastern Siberian Brown Bears or what have you.. I'm not. Really, it's just because of finals. I'm graduating. There's an element of stress and lack of free time there (Hence I'm posting at nearly 4am I mean maigod) which makes me proceed to think that, ah, I'm more or less relaxing and biding my time/posts until I have time... here. Which will happen after my immediate stressers (JESUSCHRISTTHISCAPTSTONETEST) go away. I'm young still. I mean, young enough to still make a lot of mistakes. Logical ones, decision ones, social ones, etc. I'm far from perfect, I got my own issues, my own problems as I'm sure many of us have in life. I still haven't won against my demons, but I'm fighting. I still self-loathe myself often, but I'm fighting. I still make way too many mistakes in my eyes, but I know I don't always mess up. I have opinions, and I know some people or even many people might disagree with them. Do I fear being forgotten? Yes. Do I crave attention? Sure. Do I get frustrated and angry when I feel like I'm wrong or being accused of being wrong? Yup. Do I sometimes fall into a mental loop of always having to defend everything I do or.. who I am or.. my identity in general? Of course. But I know I am better off than I was even two years ago, and I did it in my own way by looking at things differently. Everyone has a different way of getting better, but I figure I could say a few things. I wasn't gonna post here, by the way. It's difficult for me to have the desire to post in threads that deal with direct issues, even though I've read a ton of what everyone else had to say. I've been roleplaying for about a decade and I have very vivid memories of stuff I've seen happen two years ago, five, ten... and when I was younger, I used to really just put myself in the thick of it. Arguments, issues, etc. I created them, jumped into them, finished them. All that. When this game re-launched in 2013, I was older, I was.. more experienced in this sort of thing. I have hurt people, and I have been hurt myself. But I still wasn't where I wanted to be, or needed to be. Not as a RP'er, but as a person in this community. I kind of stepped back before I did anything when I came back recently, and said to myself... well I don't want that to happen again. And how can that work? Well... I just sort of, scrubbed all of the layers away in my thought process of why I do this and what I get out of it and everything. And I just sort of realized a few things: 1.) I love stories and storytelling. 2.) I love creating things. 3.) I love writing. 4.) I love, absolutely LOVE roleplaying. Not just the action but the entire idea and philosophy behind it. And I just kind of said to myself "Y'know, at the heart of everything, everybody I'm interacting with in a RP community love to do what I love to do." And I kind of hit a light bulb because I realized that I have a common interest with every living, breathing person on here right there. Something clicked after that. All of a sudden, it was as if, for the first time, I was able to realize that going after what I truly want instead of trying to go after things I thought I had to have was the way to go. Going back to me saying I wasn't going to post in this thread, it's because I mentally decide that it's not something that I would focus on normally because drama and infighting is not what I truly want and not how I personally choose to see this place as. That choice is everyone's to make. Of course choosing what you see can't mean you can ignore what you cannot. So if I do participate, like I am now, I treat it as an unavoidable issue that I, in my opinion, will be able to create value for others with my input. That's what I learned in Marketing, anyhow. But.. stuff this thread is talking about, it's not something that I would learn to associate individual people/the RPC/anyone that RP's outside it with. In other words, the way I see the tension and the back and forth and all that, it's a state of mind. It's a temporary state of mind. Sometimes I still do it. I get mad/frustrated/what have you and say and do things. I have a passion for this, pride for this, and opinions for this, and sometimes that passion betrays me. But then I eventually calm down, I eventually don't think about it anymore, I eventually move on no matter how serious and strong and hard my feelings were about the moment. Sometimes it's all in our heads. Apologies go a long way. Things are almost never as bad as you might think they are. If I was a betting man, if anything on this place makes you feel ignored, neglected, or attacked, it is probably not as bad as you think it is. I struggle with this too. But it's truth. Pure truth. When that all goes away, when that's all gone, what am I? A person. I'm in the RPC. Why? Because I like to RP. Who is the person I had drama with/argued with/etc.? A person. They are in the RPC. Why? Because they like to RP. HOLY CRAP, WE LIKE THE SAME THING! THAT'S AWESOME! That's what I try to focus on, and y'know what? I've had more fun on here than I ever had in 2013 when I came back for the first time. It certainly is going better for me. I am still a flawed human being with quirks and weaknesses, and I fail often. But, now my whole entire shitck is very basic. I'm here to tell stories with others, and everything else (friends, respect, phenomenal cosmic power, etc.) is just a bonus. So I hope my rant makes sense. :thumbsup: And if not, then I at least tried.

Duskwight constantly updates his sigs and knows how to make captivating screenshots for every one of them!

I started out as a 6, now I'm bouncing around at 4's borderline. One of the many fufillments of watching your character grow and mature.

RvRvR PVP From Guild Wars 2. That completely and utterly ate my life when I was playing that game.

Anyone who hasn't read Telluride's 'About Me' section of his profile needs to. It was a surprise for me when I discovered it, and it's actually a real pleasant lil' read.

Honestly, I don't even think they care about Eorzea anymore. XIVth was acting on their own. I think they're too busy fighting wars on their own borders then worrying about Eorzea now. We'll probably get a fair amount of "THIS IS WHAT IS GOING ON WITH GARLEMALD RIGHT NOW" cutscenes like we did in 2.3 or whatever patch that showed the new emperor but that's about it really.

Character Name: Ryanti Veanysus Wiki link/short description: Here. Have you completed the MSQ up until end of 2.55: Yes My character should be anonymous: Either works.

I can't imagine the Garlean Empire would ever be completely destroyed. Right now, it is the most influential nation on the entire planet, and when you consider just how much land the Empire has conquered and how large it is, it would probably end up killing itself before anyone else kills it. Sounsyy's theorycrafting here would have us not even touching Garlemald's land beyond Ala Mhigo until at least the third expansion. We're looking at the year 2017 here. Maybe further. Now, tossing out the concept of time here, would we ever get to the point where we push into their own territory and start wrecking faces? Sure. But even if we outright defeat them in every sense of the word, the Empire will not die. Empires don't die that well. Just look at Rome. It 'died' in the 400's, but it truly didn't die until at least a thousand years later because of the Byzantines. My theory suggests that the Garlean Empire will, in defeat, change. They will evolve into something else. They won't vanish from the face of the planet. They will instead become their own Byzantines. What I hope will happen over the coming months/years is that they show the Empire in more of a grey light versus a black light. I've never been convinced that the Empire is truly evil. They just have bad apples. Eorzea is no different. Right now the only thing separating the two is point of view. I would like for them to highlight that more.

Add a little dash of "waking up the next morning and feeling guilty over how much you actually drank out of the vodka bottle."

Ryanti has never been shitfaced before. He has only been tipsy and not the least bit drunk. However, when the inevitable time comes, Ryanti would probably be one of those philosophical drunks. Ryanti is no stranger to discussion, but he would get deliberately more chatty when drunk. The kind that tells you something incredibly insightful and deep one the second, and the next second he's hugging your leg murmuring "I love you man! You're my best friend!" He's not one to slur his words or stumble about though. He can hold his liquor quite well as far as not acting like a complete mess.

Nick certainly has a talent in his screenshots. I would imagine him to be a natural at portraits. They're just very well done.

I would love to see zones that are much larger. Which it looks like we are getting. Larger zones make the world feel more immersive to me. It's difficult to explain, but it feels more real to me when the world seems vast rather than closed. I'm a big fan of stuff mentioned in this thread so far: Different types, more Allag. I would like to add to that and say different kinds of greatswords (I know we're getting Cloud weapons, but how about more realistically proportioned greatswords too?) And also more Garlean-inspired wear. I would love to get my hands on Garlean/Ironworks anything. Especially if you can dye it.

When I think of Flynt, I think of...

I really endorse this thread, by the way. This is a great way to go about your day and live your life. As for me, I finally got a piece of loot from running today that I've wanted for quite a while. It felt good to put that crown on my head, haha! And friends of mine got pieces they wanted as well. It was a great farming day.

Firing a rifle into the air while balls deep in a squealing hog.

This thread needs to live. Forever.