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My favorite tidbit of the English Parliamentary fun is that lords and unelected representatives are not allowed in the house of commons. IT IS THE REALM OF THE COMMON (rich and powerful, but common) MAN.

As we saw in the original steps of faith, and the Brume, there is some reason why the larger drakes need to attack along the bridge (obviously the real reason is engine limitations ) In steps of faith, you stop the Dragon before it gets to the end, but the Brume still gets all burned and fucked up. I can imagine the Dragoons staying back along the spires, where they can get better aiming points, instead of standing on the bridge.

On a second side note, as you learn afterwards, the bridge was not the only battleground. It was just the only battleground that had nidhogg. The Dragoons and Knights and Cannons and etc were probably off defending the other parts of the city. On a third side note, I'm excited to have Evangeline be angry that no one invited her to be the president of the new Republic. "WHAT!? HAVE THEY SEEN MY CREDENTIALS? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE."

Well, the way that Estinien acted afterwards leads me to believe that, yeah, they cool now. If anything Dragoons would likely be more like how the Warrior of Light was when they had Hrae's eye, just a comforting boon, nothing sinister. On a side note, my prediction is that Dragoons will get a pet in 4.0, and become more like XI Dragoons.

Evangeline: - Loves trashy romance novels, and reads them constantly. - Likes petting anyone shorter than her, likes having her hair ruffled by anyone taller than herself. Damascus (Masked Miqo'te) - Wears a Mask - Likes making puns - Always worrying about the Free Company's Finances R'elend: - Hits on everything - Has long running issues with venereal disease.

Holy fuck the new 24 main raid is rough with PUGs. I had three groups explode, before I finally went with my static's healer, and we buddy teamed. We must have pulled the other groups off the floor 2-3 times a fight. Still, we cleared it finally, so the last group of pugs was actually pretty decent.

It's kind of what RP's all about ;D As you say though, real life influences are fine. I use 'willow bark' constantly as a pain reliever, because it's basically aspirin. Does Eorzea have willows? I don't really know.

I kind of like the look of the nidhogg one more. waaaant.

The forum is a little slow today, so I thought I'd put this up before patch. Most characters have others that help them along, whether they be mounts, summons, or just simple pets. This thread is for describing and writing about our furry, feathered, scaled or aetherial friends. I'll start! Evangeline has two stalwart companions, Mr Puggles the Chocobo, and Salisbury the Spider. Mr Puggles: A large chocobo with dull grey feathers, Mr Puggles was one of the only items Evangeline was able to smuggle out of Ishgard when she was first exiled. A smart and slightly grumpy bird, Mr Puggles has the thankless task of taking Evangeline anywhere that foot or airship make impractical. Evangline sometimes refers to him as her 'Minister of Transportation', but she's never managed to get him to properly fill out the paperwork. In combat she typically keeps him far away from danger, like most Ishgardian Chocobo's, he is trained for battle, but is rarely armored properly for danger. Salisbury: Salisbury is a miniature giant desert tarantula that Evangeline keeps as a pet. It has a bad habit of escaping its cage and scurrying around her residence. He is cat sized, dark brown and fluffy, and typically hides in dark, cool places. When he gets scared, which is often, he tries to find something warm and soft to wrap his legs around. Unfortunately this has caused more than one unfortunate misunderstanding, as Salisbury scuttles towards someone on a dark night, looking for a hug.

The Road to Ala Mhigo. Damascus had to find a certain little desert dweller there. Looked really pretty as I ran there from Drybone. The Grand Trial of Heresy. About 15 people from the campaign came to watch Friont, Evangeline and Xanadu be dealt justice. By the end there were probably just as many curious onlookers. Aigharn Kha is very suspicous of this catman. At least she has on head protection. Nothing like a good boob shot. "Hey there~" Klyn and Eva giving each other sultry looks across the... well ok find they're just talking. But it looked cool!

I've always found that retiring a character from RP for a while is a good way to deal with dramatic events. Make some alts, try other things, and then come back to the character thinking about what has changed. Have them go on a trip, a lengthy recovery. Give everyone a chance to get used to your departure, and then come back changed. In real life, it can take weeks or months to come to terms with something traumatic. It's also a good chance to try writing narrative RP.

Evangeline's eyes crack open as the morning light hits them, and her first sensation was that she must be captured by some great snake, or in the belly of some great drake. She was almost immobile, surrounded by something warm and smelling slightly of salt. It took a few blinks for her vision to swim into focus, revealing the pale greenish blue forearm that wrapped around her chest, the culprit in her new imprisonment. She'd almost forgoten what it felt like to wake up next to Klyn. Evangeline smiles and shifts around, the Roe barely stirring at her movements as the Elezen brushes a strand of wavy blue hair from a giant cheek. The woman was fond of snoring, and more than once Evangeline had brought earplugs to bed, but this morning Klyn slept with all the peacefulness of a babe. Whatever stress and fear that had propelled her these last few months pouring out of her like a slit wineskin. Klyn's work behind the scenes had likely spared Evangeline's life, and the woman's impassioned testimony sealed the fate of Friont. Evangeline leans down and places a kiss on that weathered brow that so many had discounted. They had underestimated her, because of her foreign speech and blindness, Friont focused on defending against the noble and powerful of Ishard, while a Blacksmith's daughter laid the final nail in his coffin. There were many more kisses she wanted to give the woman, but for now Klyn had earned her rest. Evangeline slides out of the bed, eliciting a low murmur from Klyn, the Roe's hands seeking out and finding a pillow to crush to her chest instead. The previous night was a blur of wine, laughter, and relief. The two of them stumbling into the inn room, already half undressed. The desperate fury of the act last night almost annoyed now though, as she pads naked through the room, trying to find where her various articles of clothing had been flung. She suppresses a shiver as she tugs on a pair of crumpled breeches. Eventually she finds enough of to protect against the cold, and walks to the window, throwing the shutter wide, letting in the chill morning air to do battle with the dying warmth of their fireplace. There was some sort of commotion outside, and she could hear the faint ringing of bells, which only seemed to grow in intensity. Was this some Holiday she'd forgotten? She smiled at the thought that the bells might be in celebration of their legal victory the previous night. However she knew most of the Church would rather drop a bell on her and Xanadu, rather than ring one in their honor. Still, everyone was rather animated, the streets full of pointing and shouts. Bleary eyed she looks to the horizon, rubbing at them as she sees strange black dots dancing at the edge of the mountains. With an annoyed grumble, she realizes her glasses had also been last night's explosion of carnality. Evangeline searches for them on hands and knees, finally finding they had skittered underneath the bed. Having fished them out, she returns to the window, trying to figure out what she had seen. Crows? But they looked strange... Then, as the pealing of the bells reached a crescendo around her, Evangeline suddenly realized she was looking at something very far away... and very large. Her mouth goes dry for a second, and she runs back to the bed, shaking the woman awake as every bell in the city seems to boom out in one singular cry, their voices echoing and bouncing off the stone walls, the whole city shaking with their cacophony. It is as if a thousand years or vigil, of sacrifice, of pain, poured out from those bells, reaching the heart of every son and daughter of Ishgard who could still hear them. It was wordless, but she did not need words to understand its meaning. "TO ARMS" Klynzahr rolls heavily out of bed, peppering Eva with questions, as she crawls shivering across the cold floor to collect her clothes. Strings of cautionary advice follow, as she assembles the familiar medical supplies and the less familiar books and quills. Elsewhere Evangeline knows others are going through their own rituals. Somewhere Martiallais is buckling on the armor of a Knight, likely with a kiss from the Lady Dufresne. Orrin and V'aleera are likely already prepared, Lances held high as they wait on some spire, ready to fly down onto any drake foolish enough to challenge the Dragoons of Ishgard. Anstarra and Leanne would be stringing bow and harp both if they remained in the city. Ready to give wrath to invaders, and songs of succor to defenders. And, in some private room, Xanadu would be gathering her cards and astrolabe, to stand and turn the wrath of the stars themselves onto the horde. The bells crashed again, filling even her heart with steel at the noise, for she knew she was not alone. They rang out, the sound calling to a thousand years of instinct. "THE ENEMY COMES"

Heyyooo I run a rather old and sometimes silly LS called the Friends of Momodi. It had its genesis from people who all did pickup RP in the Quicksand, but now had turned more into a general hangout LS. http://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/showthread.php?tid=6411&page=12 Poke me if you're interested! Also happy hunting!

http://objection.mrdictionary.net/go.php?n=8238886

The door swings open, and you're not sure what stuns you more, the light of the lobby, or the tears in her eyes. They're the type of eyes a woman can lose herself in, deep caramel orbs, covered in long delicate lashes. She blinks, and another tear squeezes free, and then she's falling towards you, face hidden in a flood of shimmering brown curls. Almost by instinct, you reach out to her, trying to stop this frightened beautiful creature from crashing down onto your dirty floor. To protect her, to stop whatever has done this to her. It's almost too late once you notice the knife. You curse and turn, the hot flash of pain as the blade hits at an angle and bounces off a rib. And now she's falling for real, the black heels not meant for such a maneuver. Your hand catches the knife with the wrist, and you jerk her towards you, grabbing a hair in a maneuver that brings real tears to your visitor's eyes. You both stand there in that dark office, silhouetted in a single shaft of light. The only movement the heaving of your chests, and the slow drip of blood from your side. You can feel her back quivering against your chest, fighting with you for the knife.Leaning forward, your voice a low growl as your cheek brushes past those devilish brown curls, lips almost touching her ear, "Why don't you drop that knife beautiful." "And tell me why you're here."

The gentle rustles and clicks as you clean your police issue .38, the only remnant you have from your 15 years on the force. Its cold steel holding the memory of your betrayal, and the promise of a revenge never fulfilled. The last pin goes in with a click, the bullet the slow rasp of copper and lead. You raise the barrel to your head, reaching out for one last drink. The slow click of high heels on cement, and then on the cheap carpet of your lobby. Past the empty desk of the receptionist you no longer could afford to keep. The rap of bone and flesh on glass, the shadow of a woman, silhouetted by flickering electric light. You sigh, resting the gun on the table like an old friend. The shadow knocks again, more insistently this time. What a joke, you think, knocking back the last of your drink, I'm the shadow here. Then you stand, leather soles scraping on threadbare carpet as you go to let her in.

Everyone knows true Noir soundtrack is the sound of icecubes shifting as they slowly melt into a glass of scotch.

Damascus stops when she sees the poster, carved wooden mask swiveling to regard it impassively. A few moments later, she sets down her bag of groceries, seemingly unable to move on. Irritated Ul'dahns begin to flow around her in the well traveled avenue, and she becomes a small island of stillness in that flood of life and commerce. The shadows change, and the crowds morph, different groups of people heading towards different places. Noon morphs slowly into evening, and the Miqo'te still stands. Finally, she reaches down to retrieve her parcel, shaking out soreness from her stiff knees. The mask gives the poster one last look, hiding whatever expression the face below might show. Damascus turns, her voice a whisper among the low roar of the throng, "...all for the best." Then she rejoins that great stream, back towards her home.

Hello I will not be able to make the event today

They're all off in the churning mists, fucking with moogles.

Lol I am so getting that bug suit, and the bird suit. And then making puns. "Heh... sorry am I BUGGING you?" "I'll BEE the tank." "Guys guys, we're moving those this dungeon at a snails pace!" literally cannot wait.

Hey some people make baskets or bread or whatever!

I can go as a White Mage, also I should poke you for an invite to your LS sometime!

I've listened to this about 5 times, and it keeps making me laugh. I screw up a mechanic, and our Dragoon gets deleted. The scream he makes is what gets me. https://www.twitch.tv/ilovebuzzcut/v/68454401?t=01h19m57s