Eva

To amend, I'm not sure that there are any plans on having something organized like an instance or 'BCNM'ish style event where coordination is required (who remembers the old psycho/hystero/terro anima orders for the old Promy runs before they gimped them horribly to the point where people are now like 'lolAnima'? ) Something like Ventrilo would certainly have helped coordinate the group's efforts on that. I don't know that the RPC has any plans on doing anything like this on a larger scale, though there may be people from various guilds that team up for such endeavors. My thought would be that if some of the guilds used Vent servers, it could be done there. And as cool as I think it would be to have a 64-person FFXIV equivalent of Dynamis, and a bunch of RPers from various guilds coordinating pulls, sleeps, etc... I just don't see it happening. Sorry, this was sort of tangent-ish. P.S. Nice Fez! :lol:

I find, and this is just my own personal opinion, that Voice chat tends to be prohibitive to fluent RP. Normally the less I know about my fellow RPers and their real lives, the more easily and naturally I'm able to RP. I think voice chat is a great utility for instances and events where teamwork and coordination are needed 'OOCly', but I'm not sure that there will be much of a demand for a RPC vent. Again, that's just my 2 gil on the matter. Others may disagree.

I liked the talk about character creation. It's probably fair to say that even the Beta may not have all of the possible options and we may see some more hairstyles come September. But perhaps the shorter hair (and I agree that it's really not that short) is meant to be a part of what separates the hyur women from other races. I know the elezen women seem to have some longer hairstyles, so maybe its meant to be a racial thing. Even still, from an RP standpoint I feel they should allow for as broad a range of character customization as possible. But from what I've seen of the alpha, there weren't a lot of people running around looking at other peoples' character models. I like that there won't be a lot of 'twins' though. Also good choice on the songs! I enjoyed Episode 2! Keep them coming!!! :cheer: P.S. - That guy from the 'Mission Impossible' miqo'te Beta video WAS creepy.... lol

I'm behind corporate firewall until 7pm ET or so, and unable to access most of these sites. I was wondering if someone would kindly C&P the text to a PM to me regarding the pricing, hardware specs, and # of characters. Thanks!

Those can be fixed a little further. I'm not 100% happy with them. The 'fabricky' texture seems a bit off, and I think they'd look better if the colors were a bit more drab, but maybe it's just me. They would be relatively easy to fix up.

Taking in a deep breath of air, the elezen duskwight woman climbed the steps, pausing at the top just before a plain-looking wooden door with an even plainer-looking sign atop it which read 'Zelorius'. Withdrawing a cast iron key from a pocket hidden somewhere in the folds of a greenish-blue tunic that was probably a size too large for her, and unlocked the door, pushing it open gently. She stepped from the bright daylight of mid-morning into the dark recesses of what can only be described as a rather decrepit-looking hovel from the outside. She pushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face and peered about the room. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light. The interior was rather elaborately decorated with wall hangings depicting various animals and landscapes and scenes of battles. She smiled softly as she traced her fingertips along a wooden end-table, allowing them to rest on a small pile of walnut shells which had varying faces inked onto them - a faded memory of her childhood. On the opposite end of the room, an elderly man reclined in a rocking chair, his head tilted back and long, flowing silver hair draping behind the back of the chair. His breathing was slow, steady, and rhythmic. If the smile on his face was any indication, his dreams were pleasant ones. She smiled warmly at him. She felt guilty for it, but she liked seeing him like this more than when he was awake. Most days she would have just left the groceries on the table for him with a note, but today was different and she regretted that she had to rouse him. Placing a well-manicured hand on one of his shoulders, she shook him gently. He snorted abrupty, and a pair of bright blue gems which matched her own stared up at her from beneath bushy silver eyebrows. "Dweia, is that you...?" The old man's face took on a wonderous expression as he lifted his head from the edge of the chair. Shielding his eyes from what little light managed to creep in from behind the lone window's shade, he smiled jubilantly up at her. His voice sounded gravely and his words labored, but his eyes caught the light and were filled with hope. The amount of joy in his face was met by an equal amount of annoyance in hers as she frowned down at him, "It's Kes, Father... Don't get up. I'm leaving your groceries on the table for you." She dumped the contents of a bag she had been carrying haphazardly onto the table and began arranging the items - mostly fruits, vegetables, herbs, and a little bit of bread. "Oh yes, Kes dear! We remember when you were just a little thing..." His smile never went away, but there was confusion in his eyes now. "Have we ever told you of your mother?" Grimacing, she turned away from her groceries, "Many times now, Father. Please, let's not talk about such things..." She'd grown used to hearing many of his stories dozens of times over, but she knew this was one that never ended particularly well and it was far from an ideal day for additional drama. "Why don't you tell me about how you used to train in the deserts instead?" He smiled at her, though his eyes had fallen closed again. "And you'll have a headache for a week if you don't put your glasses on." He nodded, reaching somewhat blindly about a table beside the enormous leather easychair he was seated in, his weathered fingers finally resting upon a pair of silver-lined shaded spectacles which quickly found themselves perched upon the bridge of his nose. "Well let us tell you, it all started with that lance... Just a simple weapon, right? Wrong! We trained with it out in the deserts of..." His gravely voice was quickly tuned out as she began putting the groceries in their appropriate cupboards. She'd heard this story a hundred times before and could recite it back to him with ease. She knew all the characters, all the plot twists. But with each retelling, it was his first recantment. It was his life, or a part of it - at least the way he remembered it. But his mind had been gone for so long now that there was really no way for her to be able to discern what was real from what wasn't. Some of the details could not have happened. His mind had distorted the facts and his memories of friends past had faded - weathered away by time like a rock beneath years and years of ocean waves. Growing up the stories he told of the roegedan protector had always fascinated and frightened her, but now even they were little more than the fantasies of a delusional and fragmented mind. "...and it was after all that time spent in the desert that we knew that our knighthood trials were complete! Oh, but it wouldnae end there..." She had finished putting the groceries away and was slicing up some cheese and bread for him. There was a time when he could cook his own meals - she remembered the food of her childhood. Stews made with just the right amount of seasoning, sandwiches that could not be eaten without eliciting some sort of pleasurable groan, and the patting of her belly after stuffing down a dozen of his cookies, and then swiping one or two more when she thought he wasn't looking. His exemplary culinary skills were the reason she had been spending the past few years working so hard at losing the extra weight she had put on in her teenage years - an effort which had finally started producing results, albeit slowly. But now the old man was reduced to this. It was tragic, but growing up she had heard stories about how her grandfather and great-grandfather had suffered similar bouts of discontinuity during their lifetimes. Smiling softly at him as he wrapped up his most recent tale, she handed him the platter and quickly cut in before he could move on to another story, "Father... Have you seen the red votive I kept when I was still living here?" Taking a bite of cheese, the aging duskwight spoke with a full mouth, "What? Votive? Nae seen it." Catching sight of her frown, he continued, "Don't really need more light around here. What do you need with it, anyway?" He cast an inquisitive glance at his daughter as he munched away at his food, oblivious at first to the gravity of the situation. She drew a deep intake of air. She'd explained this to him at least a dozen times before, but today it hurt too much. He only remembered the little girl he'd raised. It always struck a nerve when she had to explain how she was at one time engaged to be married, and he always had the same multitude of questions about the Wildwood Elezen man that had stolen his daughter away from her father for those years. After that it went like clockwork. He would get upset. Then she would get upset and ultimately leave him there in his confused state to go nurse her emotional wounds. And the next time she visited it would be as though nothing had ever happened. Sometimes she felt that he remembered, but chose not to talk about it so as to spare her the trauma. She could never really tell, but he never seemed to remember their fights. Today she needed the votive though - more than anything else she needed something that had belonged to him. Frustration and anger boiled violently beneath her calm exterior. Her eyes welled up with tears, and Dyterium clasped a comforting hand gently on one of her shoulders. "Donnae worry, Kessyface. We'll find you your candle!" He barely grunted as he rose to his feet. For a man of nearly 60 years he was somehow in reasonably good shape physically, despite the sedentary lifestyle he had adopted over the last couple decades. It was a rare thing for her to see him outside of that chair. "We think we may have moved it... yes..." The crack of noonday sunlight beaming in from the window caught his spectacles, reflecting across the room and serendipitously illuminating a maroon-colored votive on the floor in the far corner. "Yes, we moved it out of the way. There it is!" It was like another adventure for him, and he grinned as though he had rescued the votive from the clutches of some evil or another as he triumphantly handed it to her. "There's no more need for that now..." He reached out and wiped a solitary tear that had fallen to her cheek and her back shook as she let out a relieved half-chuckle. "Thanks, Da. I knew if anyone could do it, you could!" she obliged the fantasy, grateful at being able to hold the votive. Nothing meant more to her today than being able to touch something that had once belonged to him. One year to the day, and she needed to honor his death, and his life, appropriately. She wouldn't be staying to visit as long as she normally would. Her father had what he needed to get by for the next two or three days, and she needed to mourn. "Did we ever tell you ab..." she cut him off with a quick wave of her hand. "Father, I need to go. I have an appointment that I must keep. It's important. You understand, right?" As he sat back down in his comfortable leather chair, he looked upset at being interrupted, but she knew if she didn't that he would just keep talking, but now she felt guilty. "Promise you'll tell me all about it when I come back in a couple days?" she smiled at him. Appearing relieved at the prospect of being able to tell his story to her another time, he leaned forward in his chair to embrace her before she left. She knew he would forget about it over the next couple of days, let alone the next twenty minutes. She pecked his forehead, wiping away the resulting lipstick smudge. She smiled at him, grabbed a rucksack from the floor, carefully tucking the votive into it, then opened the front door. Turning back to him, she spoke softly, "Goodbye Da. I love you." His head was already lolled back and he was breathing deeply. Closing the door quietly, she smiled to herself. This was definitely one of the better visits and she would have liked to stay longer, but she wanted to spend as much of the afternoon as possible alone at the lake with her thoughts and memories.

Edward Norton might work well for that, Mason:

As far as 'worst-case' goes, I was thinking a few days ago that if the decision comes last-minute during beta and nobody knows which server to go to since we won't know the names or whatever... choose something concrete like: the 2nd to last server alphabetically, or the first server alphabetically after Q. Probably silly and moot since it won't be much of an issue to re-roll a character at that point, but figured I'd share anyway.

For Kes/Eva, maybe... Elizabeth Mitchell + 15lbs....? She's a bit too thin for the role. Kes was meant to be a slightly fluffy. I guess it's not something I gave a lot of thought to, really. For Ora, Brittany Murphy would have been a good choice.

Fidgeting somewhat, Ora decided that it was getting late. She had plans soon and it was unlike Starkin to wait too long for her if she didn't show up right on time. The topic had moved away from History anyway, and she suppressed a yawn as the other women at the table spoke about alchemy. It had been a productive day though - the job tonight was set to go as planned, and she would be meeting up with Whiskeyjack tomorrow to discuss further business opportunities. The sherri had started to go to her head as well, and she knew she needed to be focused for what was to come. She rose from her seat, only moments after reclaiming it. "I'm sorry to interrupt this fascinating discussion, but I hadn't realized the time." There was no sarcasm in her tone, but there was no jubilation either. Bowing her head modestly, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her breeches. "It was nice to meet the both of you. Perhaps we'll meet again someday." She waited a moment to acknowledge their response before walking back to the bar, chin held perhaps just a bit too high for her cherade, and paid what was left of her tab before exiting the Drowning Wench.

I just wanted to give a bit of a head's up to the people who've come here from Crystalline on Sylph, as I have no better way of getting ahold of everyone en masse. Our forums will be coming down sometime around 7/23, so if there are any stories that anyone wants to save, I strongly encourage copy/pasting them to a text editor of your choice within the next month. The story forum can be reached here: http://sava.lunarmania.com/~ffxic0/forum/viewforum.php?f=8 Apologies for forum-spam for the non-Sylphites, but feel free to visit and read some of our past adventures if you're bored.

Standing up, Ora nodded agreement. "Tomorrow it is. I must also take my leave. Until then, gods preserve." She held a hand up in a sort of half-salute, half-waving gesture before pushing her chair back in and sauntering back over to the table she had originally come from. Seating herself across from Myra, she smiled faintly, "Business..." Suddenly she regretted not bringing her empty glass over, as she had no place for her hands. She folded them together in front of herself, making a steeple of her index fingers upon which she gently rested her chin. "You were mentioning that you taught history...?"

Hell yes, take it! Her mind screamed, but she managed to keep a calm expression and ran her fingers through her pink-highlighted hair, as though considering his offer carefully. "25 sounds agreeable, with room for improvement over time, I presume? Free acquisitions sound good as well. When do I begin?" She sipped the last of her sherry and set the empty glass down on the table, looking at the Roegadan inquisitively.

She smiled back, "How few a thousand? You should know by now I try to deal in specifics." Leaning back in the chair and sipping on her sherry, she gave him a considering look, "Also, what're ya exporting? I like ta keep me hands clean, but I'm not above contracting some work out to those who don't mind dirtying theirs a bit..."

"I think I need to know more about the job description before I put ink t'paper, if ya know what I mean. I wasn't born yesterday." She waved a hand unenthusiastically before seating herself at the more remote table. "Besides, ya haven't heard me analysis." Giving an obviously faux forlorn expression, she paused for a moment before getting to it. "I'd say 95 percent of the folks in here aren't worth their salt. Adventurers mostly, a few merchants takin' their lunch and no doubt more than a couple sneakin' away from their bosses on lunch for a drop or two, if ye catch my drift. That one fella over there..." she nodded to a hyur man seated at the end of the bar beside an attractive-looking hyur woman, "next to the pretty little thing... aye, he's got some sorta military training. Could tell it by the way he carries himself. I'm not sure what to make of the oddball that walked in here, then left and came right back. Doesn't look like he's had a few too many or anything. Doesn't look like he'd be too good with a weapon, but it's the unlikely ones that surprise ya sometimes." She lowered her voice a bit, "Now, the two fellas at the table behind me - don't look! One of 'em is havin' issues with his woman. I'd say if ya got any jewels or trinkets or anything, the one with the shorter hair'd be yer best bet for a sale. Heard 'im whinin' to the other fella about it earlier." "Oh, and the hyur woman I was chattin' with. She seems annoyed. I'm not sure what her deal is, but doubt you'd be able to make a sale there. She's a teacher of history, or so she says anyway. But she's hiding somethin. Prolly best to walk on by. And the other gal can't put down the wine fast enough." She glanced at Whiskeyjack as though waiting for a response.

Not Whiskeyjack's House of Crappe? lol

Finally got around to running the Benchmark this morning before work, a few times actually. First pass was with several apps open (half dozen firefox tabs, photoshop, digsby, and a couple others - stuff I normally leave open). Scores were H:2417 L:4209. Rebooted the PC and ran both benchmarks again and I think I squeezed maybe an extra 20 points out of each, if that. Prior to first test, PC hadn't been rebooted since Saturday. lol Also there's a ton of different masks - not really sure why so many. And yeah, some of them look a bit creepy. Finally: I'm intrigued by this...

"Oh, history! That's fascinating!" Damn... Starkin was right that there might be some use to knowing that crap... Her face remained calm and serene, despite the topic of conversation moving out of her realm of comfort. She had hoped that perhaps the hyur had been a teacher of mathematics or the sciences. While not an expert on either, she felt she could have at least remain afloat in either discussion, but the truth is she knew precious little about history. "Tell me, is there any particular era that you find particul--" At this point her salvation came in the form of a large roegadan hand on her shoulder - silencing her. She looked up at Whiskeyjack, glanced back to Myra, and gave a somewhat-muted-but-still-irritated sigh. "My apologies. Excuse us for just a few moments..." Standing up, she placed one of her hands on the Sea Wolf's elbow, urging him to move away to a table at the opposite end of the tavern, well out of earshot. As though an afterthought, she picked up the glass of sherry, smiling gingerly as she took another sip.

I think Two-Patch Whiskeyjack is an awesome character, and I can't stop saying the name out loud in RL. :lol: Also, as you didn't intend Myra to be 'scholarly' I didn't particularly intend on Ora to come across as being rude so much as 'impetuous youth'. I created Starkin as a way to have someone hovering about her that she can kind of talk down to and be all like, "This is how it is, kid!" Even though she's kind of a kid herself. I haven't fleshed the character out too much, but I had initially intended her to be kind of an antagonist for Kes, but now I'm not so sure. I'm just sort of rolling with it. Now she'll probably be one of those characters who wears a dozen different masks depending on the situation. A social chameleon, if you will. :mrgreen: But one way or the other, I think Whiskeyjack is awesome! :approve:

Taking a seat at the table, Ora swirled the liquid in her glass and watched it with no real expression on her face. It had tasted better than she expected. If the evening's job went favorably, she might even find herself paying the bit of extra gil to drink it more often. And then there was the matter of Two-Patch, who was now at the other table talking to someone else. She had casually scanned the remaining people in the tavern and was ready to report to the Roegedan what she believed, but his seemingly short attention spans had drawn him elsewhere and she didn't want to be rude to the others at the table, nor did she want to interrupt him if he was conducting business. "Business, of a sort..." she answered Myra's inquiry. "I do odd jobs mostly, these days. I'm performing a reconaissance operation for the gentleman that was in here before..." she spoke in a serene tone but went on to mumble sharply "...if he could be considered a gentleman at all." The argument earlier had been public enough to catch most everyone's attention in the tavern, so there was no sense playing it secret. "The little one is a friend of mine - we go way back." She smiled, pausing to sip her sherry before continuing. "We were promised a greater sum than we were paid, but times are tough..." she shook her head dismally. "I apologize for the scene earlier, but I assure you he deserved worse than the tonguelashing he got. Some men just don't know when to quit..." With the last, her glance adjusted across the room to where the Sea Wolf was busily discussing some matter of salesmanship or other. His mention of a job opportunity had piqued her curiosity and she wanted to know more. "But enough of that. What is it that you teach, Miss Myra?"

Ora grabbed a few of the empty glasses, bowing politely as she backed away from the table headed back to the bar. Some of the other patrons had departed and the bartender no longer appeared as flustered as he had several minutes earlier. Setting the glasses down upon the bar, she cleared her throat, tapping some of the gil Whiskeyjack had given her against the bar. The sound immediately caught the bartender's attention and he shook his head slightly, but proceeded to where Ora was leaning against the bar anyway. "Thanks for bringin' these back." He forced a smile, "What'll ya have." "Well, I'm not sure. My companions over there seem to be drinking wine, but may be nearly finished. Two glasses all the same. I'm sure they'll find a home one way or another, even if they don't drink them. The big fella said he would like whiskey. And for myself a glass of sherry, whatever's good." The bartender, who had already begun pouring wine into a pair of goblets arched an eyebrow at her as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from one of the top shelves - probably already knowing what Two-Patch regularly drank. "I thought you usually drank the same grog as everyone else in this place." Her fists tightened at her sides, but she kept a cool composure, "I'm trying something new today." "Here you are then, two glasses of wine, some whiskey for the big fella, and..." he glanced at her appraisingly, "...one glass of sherry for the lady." Grinning, she took the tray off the bar, leaving the entirety of the gil that Whiskeyjack had given her on the bar. She had thought about pocketing the extra and stiffing the bartender for not serving her earlier, but now she was getting into character and felt she had to play the part fully. A small sum of gil now for a larger sum later! She nodded to herself as she elegantly walked back to the table, holding the tray as a professional waitress would. Setting them down, she smiled softly at everyone at the table.

Taking on a less 'sing-songy' voice, she spoke a bit more deeply than she had up until this point. "And I'm Ora Nirramor, or 'Orry' to my friends," she gave a now-demure smile. Despite the neutral expression on her face, she had seemed somewhat annoyed - perhaps the elezen man who's employing me that had winked at her. She gave a half-nod to the other two as they returned to the table and re-introduced herself before looking back up at the Sea Wolf. She wanted to speak business, now that she had the man's ear, but she was suddenly concerned about the other two - They might be potential business contracts... She knew her outburst earlier had annoyed the scholarly-looking woman. She was doing a good job concealing the annoyance now, however. Deciding to maintain the demure appearance, Ora kept her hands over her lap and stood at the table with ladylike grace. Occasionally when Whiskeyjack wasn't looking, she gave the back of his head a quizzical look, as though to signal the others, "I'm not with him." But when he acknowledged her, she simply smiled politely. Her transformation was more or less complete now. Gesturing slowly to some of the empty glasses on the table, she spoke elegantly again, "May I refill your glasses? And would you like anything, Mr. Whiskeyjack?"

"Right now? Erm... just odd jobs mostly. It's been slow. I'd be interested in knowin' what sort of work you had in mind though, fer sure." Her gaze followed his at the table across the room where she spotted the scholarly woman that her business associate had winked at earlier. She bit back a groan, realizing this was not the type of woman she much wanted to associate with, just by the look of her - scholarly - which to her meant condescending and snobbish. But the Sea Wolf had already set his mind on that table, and from observing him in the past she figured he wouldn't likely take no for an answer anyway. "Alrighty, Mr. Whiskeyjack!" she put on some faux enthusiasm. "I'm Ora, by the way. Ora Nirramor." She grinned, extending her hand.

Looking somewhat abashed as the quiet Duskwight and boisterous Sea Wolf plopped down simultaneously on either side of her, Orry felt almost threatened, momentarily feeling cornered between the duo before realizing that each had come from different directions and they clearly didn't know one another. Coincidence... She didn't even have time to laugh to herself before the Roegadan began chatting her up. The auburn-headed elezen woman didn't much look like she wanted a conversation anyway. "Hiya Mr. Whiskeyjack!" she beamed at him. It had become painfully clear that, despite his reputation she had never exchanged words with the man. To be honest, she seldom found herself in The Drowning Wench by herself. She was always here in company, whether it be for business or relaxation with friends. "My talents, hmm? I guess you could say I see things others do not, and have a knack for orchestratin' things and gettin' people together who wouldn't normally work together. Ya know what I'm sayin?" She gave him a winning grin. "I can be pretty persuasive when I mean to be..." She glanced at the bartender, who was now clearly avoiding her. "That is, when people bother to pay attention!!" The last was in a raised voice, and if the bartender heard her, he now gave no indication of it. Turning back to the Sea Wolf she batted her eyelashes a few times, "What's a gal gotta do to get a drink in a place like this, anyhow?" She giggled.

When a pair of seats at the bar became available, Orry quickly launched herself past a hyur couple and staked her claim. Her lalafell companion ambled over afterwards, ducking his head shamefully as the hyur gentleman raised his fist at Orry's direction, though she paid no notice. Pulling himself up at the bar, the mismatched pair continued to wait for some service. "So, what're you gonna do with your split?" she inquired? The lalafell rubbed his eyebrows, but before he could answer, the thundering of a Sea Wolf Roegedan cut him off. Orry's attention finally shifted away from herself, if momentarily, and her jaw dropped slightly. She thwapped him in his shoulder, a bit forcefully given his small stature, and nodded to the newcomer. The lalafell's gaze was already fixed in his direction. Her whisper could be heard in that moment when the clamour of the place was cut off after his boisterous arrival, "Hey, that's Whiskeyjack.." "Whiskey-who?" "Two-Patch Whiskeyjack! If you came in here more than once in every four moons and you might get to knowin' some people, kiddo. No wonder Quiggy always says you live under a moldy rock... sheesh..." It was the truth, too. Establishments such as this were not his cup of tea. In truth, he was probably content under the table while Orry was conducting business. Despite the suggestion that he try to steal the man's wallet while he was down there, he had known (or at least strongly hoped) that her suggestion was meant as a joke. That she hadn't asked about it would seem to confirm it for him. "I'm tired, Orry. I think I'm just gunna go home." Her gaze finally broke away from Whiskeyjack as she glanced at him - her expression something between concern and annoyance. Adopting a softer tone, she nodded, "Alright Starkin, just remember our 'appointment' tomorrow." "I will, Orry. Enjoy your drink." Her voice became shrill again, "If I ever get one!" The bartender glanced over one of his broad shoulders at her briefly before running a washcloth over some dirty glasses and moving away to another patron at the opposite end of the bar. The lalafell hopped off the seat and sauntered out of the bar leaving her by herself. As she waited, her eyes swept across the room. A scholarly-looking hyur woman had been glancing at her periodically, but she dismissed it as envy. Whiskeyjack was now engaged in conversation - no doubt a sale - with someone holding up a leatherbound book. Now in addition to being thirsty, she was bored.