Aya

Aya lifted her eyes from Coatleque, blinking slowly as she listened to their sudden interlocutor make his pitch. She tilts her head, her eyes slightly narrowing, one blonde eye-brow raised as she pulls her lips back tight, an expression that seems to mix a little confusion with aversion. "Um... excuuuse me?" she said, mustering a level of indignance only made possible by her Ishgardian accent.

Ala Mhigan here.. but not part of the resistance

Yes please! ^^

So that's why everyone is in Limsa and leaving Aya lonely at the Quick Sand :-]

For a moment Aya just stared blankly toward Coatleque, needing a moment to catch onto the unintentional rhyme. She giggled softly, and nodded, "Mmhmm, something like that..." "I was a dancer before I came here." she tilted her head a bit, angling her eyes toward the view of outdoors. "I've become friends with some dancers here, and they let me practice and rehearse with them. Its fun to learn from them." Her lips pulled back into a smile as she continued to gaze outside. She glanced back, as Coatleque enjoyed the chocolate, her smile looking amused at the archery comment. No doubt Ser Crofte could wield an impressive bow, though her aim always seemed off... "You dance often then? Is it anything specific such as some Seeker tribes do?" "Every chance I get" she grinned.

Wait.. Osric wasn't shipped here! I sense shenanigans!

*waaaaaaaaaaaaves* Welcome to Balmung! :-]

*Cruises by on her surfboard*

I am a total mess replying to this thread... but having not addressed Kat's initial question.. now I will! Kat, I think you're basically already agreeing with what my thoughts on the matter would be. If you're not prepared to let Kat die, you should avoid the conflict you're describing, and find another RP way to resolve the impasse - since it sounds like its not a situation that you want to assure Kat's victory and survival. In terms of whether or not to enter into such a conflict, that really is a matter of how you want Kat's story to unfold. There are advantages and disadvantages to both, and it really boils down to what do you want to do in the game to have fun, and how will that impact it? Would it effect your ability to enjoy PvE? Do you have any other character concepts you would be interested in pursuing? Really, what would be the end-game of Kat died? If that sounds like something that isn't fun - then don't let it happen :-] On the other hand, the actual IC event itself would be one you'd remember the rest of your life. The excitement and the drama would be high, and nerve wracking, and Kat might just emerge from it in one piece and with an impressive opportunity for character growth and storytelling. It sounds to me like either resolution will be fun in the present. The more dangerous route may be more interesting and dramatic, but only if you're settled with any possible outcome. If you're really not wanting her to die, then don't worry about it, and find another way to resolve the situation. No one would hold that against you.

Awww, Warren! That's true, and there's something to not pushing depressing RP on people (and there would be sadness), but.. the life of adventurers is a dangerous one :-] No one should ever find themselves in a position where they really feel pressured to do something terrible to their character, the consequences of it certainly do reverberate beyond the one character. This is both sadness, and opportunity for RP, and growth, etc. At the end of the day, though, RP that takes place in a bubble where that grisly outcome is dismissed from the start, is RP that loses that much additional tension and believability. This post did, though, really make me think about it some more. I understand your position Warren, and appreciate the care (I know it wasn't directly personally toward me, but nonetheless!) It definitely leads me to think that killing off a character in a non-chalant non-necessary manner is really not a good idea. Better to let the character retire into obscurity.

That's pretty much where I draw the line too... if you are not willing to let your character die, I do not think you should put him or her in a situation where that is a likely or reasonable outcome. That doesn't mean you should roll over if someone else puts you in that situation, but some thought and care should go into thinking about how far to push that limit. Its ultimately about fun for everyone involved, but at some point someone pretends to be Superman and then its no fun for anyone.

[align=center][/align] [align=center]What is it a Dancer Does?[/align] It seemed so strange: suddenly everyone wanted to know what Miss Foxheart did in her spare time. The realization stuck her with a silly grin, as she stood before a small locker. Really, more of a narrow wooden closet, and just one of over a dozen lining a room that smelled of sweat and perfume. She shook her head a little more, smiling with the thought, wondering just why people were suddenly so interested. She had toyed with an answer as playful as it were true: what she did in her spare time was barmaid, for it was only here that she really lived. And where was here? Tucked away in the depths of Ul'dah, amidst the curving avenues, and narrow alleys, away from the glitz and glamor of the Golden Court, away from the business and commerce of the bazaar and the shops that lined bustling avenues. Here in the dour, dark areas of Ul'dah, buried alongside ancient homes, now modest, or poor. The basement had once been a storeroom, refinished with wooden planking, one long wall lined with mirrors, and all the trappings of a dance studio. It was a hidden jewel, humming with activity in the daylight hours, filled with the energies of practice and rehearsal. At night its occupants worked, or escaped from the neighborhood before treacherous darkness befell it. She never really liked to talk about it. Everyone seemed to notice her energy, and her spirit, but few really seemed to wonder where they came from. Perhaps it was better that way. Looking at the locker's label, "Foxy", she could not help but grin. She pulled the straps tight against her hand. She was too excited to actually wait for her project to be complete, and she was already preparing: tonight was finally going to be the night! She turned her body to the side, holding her hands up toward the changing-room mirror, grinning at herself with excitement. After all, was it not why she had run away? What would they think? Many of her friends would not care, but what of the others that would? What of Madame Momodi? Her parents had forbid her, even her closest brother had scorned her. She besmirched her family name, trampled upon a once-noble heritage, and squandered her own honor. And for what? The little studio, quiet in the early twilight hours, held a cherished place in the heart of those who knew it. It was not right to call the girls a troupe, they never performed as a whole, but they were friends, the dearest of friends. Many were like the trio who owned it: having grown up, trained, and performed together most of their lives. The dancers of Ul'dah are almost universally Miqo'te, Seekers in particular, and their presence nearly ubiquitous. Most have trained since childhood, all live similar lives of practice, performance, and the nurturing the faint hope of success.. The work is more grueling than glamorous, with long often-thankless hours, accompanied by the social costs and expectations of their profession. Still, they love it, they must, for they often have little else. To her, it was the best thing in life: the reason for everything, the passion behind the energy. She turned out of the room, bare feet sliding against the smooth wooden floor. Earlier in the day the girls had filled the studio, practicing routines and preparing for their evening performances. It had been a fun day, accompanied with smiles, laughter, hard work and new ideas. She had been so fortunate to find kindred spirits who welcomed her: embracing and sharing her love of dance and of life. It was what she had dreamed of since arriving in Ul'dah filled with hope that she might experience, and learn the art of Ul'dahn dance from those who knew it best. But what would her friends think if they knew? Would some dismiss the innocence of her smile? Would others question the intention of her bright eyes? Would others yet distance themselves from the guttersnipe of a girl? Some would embrace her, she knew, but still she had seen it all before, and would see it again, why take the risk? She walked back to the site of her project, kneeling and lifting the wrench once more. She tested the fasteners, giving them a hard turn. She glanced upward at the assembly she had spent a week preparing, the polished metal cylinder rose from its firm footing, mounted far above against the vaulted ceiling. She stood out from the other girls: Hyur, tall, and foreign. She had practiced Ul'dahn dancing in Ishgard, learned the rhythmic motion of hips and shoulders, how to shape and give life to music with the movement of her form. It had been one of her specialties, but even her expertise in the Ishgardian style was little more than an introduction to the dance as performed in Ul'dah. Despite her talent, she had not yet performed publicly, and was not sure if she would want to, "who in Ul'dah would want a Hyur dancer anyway?" It didn't really matter - things were still so much better than they could have been. She stood up slowly, an anxious smile upon her lips. Energy in her eyes reflected back in the mirror, the lamp-lit studio left otherwise vacant and empty in the quiet of the night. She reached upward, grasping the pole with strong fingers, pulling her body high into the air, securing her position with her feet. It had been over a year since she had escaped Ishgard, almost six moons since she had arrived in Ul'dah. So much had changed, so many things had happened, so many friends had already come and gone. She had learned of an entirely new world, one unlike any of those she had experienced in the past. But this was the same: the same thrill, the same energy, the same wonderful sensation winding, tingling through her muscles, breathing a wave of passionate energy throughout her body. The new and the old met for the briefest of electrifying moments. She had wanted to be famous. Wanted to be known, and adored. She had wanted to show the world the beauty she could create, and the art of her body in motion. To see excited, hopeful eyes every time she smiled, to see the delight of her fans, and to know what it was to love, and be loved. Now she was a barmaid, still drawing smiles, and laughter, but little beyond--thankful for the simple happiness brought by each and every day. Holding firm she pushed her body away from the pole, drawing her legs up over her head, where she wrapped first calves, and then thighs around the pole. Facing into the room she arched her back with her body inverted, elongated. With an effortless-looking grace she lifted her upper body up, holding firm with her legs, shoulders drawing even with hips, an arm extending near the ceiling where her hand found firm grasp, before pulling the other along. Sitting upright, she paused for a moment, eyes glancing down at the height she had gained from the floor. She leaned back, stretching her body out straight, extending her arms out over her head, testing the grip, strength of her thighs. She smiled with delight. There was no music to accompany her, no snapping finger cymbals, no strings, or drums. Only the sound of the pole straining against its mounts, and the slightest squeak of flesh and cloth against the polished metal. The cheer of the crowd was memory, not reality, and not hope. Still, she smiled, that heart-warming bright-eyed smile of hers, extolling in simple pleasure. She arched her back, hands grasping the pole as she inverted once more. She visualized the curve of her body, the lines drawn by her legs, and arms. She imagined her figure as a work of art in motion, letting herself spin slowly to test the balance and strength of both the mounting, and the dancer. She had only meant to test its stability, but she found that once in the air again, her dance had a seductive lure all its own. Every concern, every worry flitted away. Her heart raced with excitement. Her muscles burned with the strain of her movements. She pushed herself into the routine, using the pole, and the space of the air itself as her stage. Her body as the instrument and the canvas. This, this is what she did. What she wanted to do. What she lived for, even when the fires of the night burned low. Friends, fun, and pleasure had their place, but hidden away in the dark alleyways of Ul'dah, obscured by twists of fate, she danced to her heart's content-- for the only audience that mattered. [align=center][/align]

Yes. But I hope it doesn't happen!

Same here

Quirks huh? Hmmm... Aya speaks with an obvious Ishgardian accent that she rarely, if ever, tries to obscure (and when she does try to obscure it, she does a bad job of it). To Ishgardians her accent sounds a little off, due to the affects of her family's Ala Mhigan accents. She does not like responsibility, she tends to avoid anything that either makes her responsible for other people, or that leave other people depending upon her. That's not to say that she's unreliable, but she would rather have it not matter She does quite a few other little things for Momodi outside of being a barmaid, including visiting the market to buy spices and ingredients for specials, as well as helping come up with the special dishes they make. She loves the market, and can be found there most mid-mornings. She spends much of her free time every day engaged with exercise, meditation, or dance practice. Since she works evenings and nights, most of her free time is during the late morning and the afternoon. She has seven piercings in each ear, four along the upper side, and three along the lower - six of the seven usually bear studs that she changes the color of to reflect her mood, or to go with whatever outfit she is wearing. The final piercings, in her lobe, she wears whatever her character model is wearing. She also has a pierced naval, which she loves to show off. She is taller than her character model, being (actually) a Highlander who stands at 5' 10". She prefers heeled shoes (and boots) over flats, and most always wearing something with a 2-4" heel. She is almost always smiling. It is a genuine smile - not just one she wears for work

Wh... what is that top?

So interesting! I would not have stumbled upon these if you had not posted them, thank you

Aya nodded energetically, grinning, "I don't think I'd buy flowers from someone named, 'Crooked', anyway! We'll have to try one of the flower carts! After, we visit Tarot's shop that is!" "So... is this what Miss Aya does on her time off? I confess I rarely see you out and around the city. Not that I myself do the same." Aya leaned back a bit, settling onto the couch in response to the question, as if stopping to think for a moment. Her smile softened, "Mhmmm, sometimes. If you came out here more often you might see more of me!" She looked to Coatleque with a momentary grin, "You might even get to spend more time having fun with me!" She looked back out the window, at the world moving by without them. "Its nice to get out in the daylight before work--I like to enjoy the city's energy, and I can take care of some errands for Madam Momodi while I do. Plus I can get a little shopping and relaxation in!" She paused for just a moment, lifting her tea for a sip, but as she lowered it back down to the saucer she continued, "I take time to stay in shape too, you know." she glanced back to Coatleque, with a little, slightly bashful smile. Of course a Sultan Sworn would know what it really meant to keep in shape: practice, drill, and more practice to keep in form, a matter of potential life and death. A barmaid had few such rigors to her occupation, but she still had a figure of her own to work to maintain. She continued to look out the window, her smile growing brighter. "I just love to dance..." she stated matter-of-factually, as if revealing a well-known secret. "That's what I really try to do, every day I have the chance."

Aya had just sipped the tea, and it was obviously very hot given her reaction. She nodded a little in response to Coatleque's alarm, blowing on the surface of her tea a little more. "It is, but I just wanted to taste it!" She lowered her cup and saucer, smiling still, "How about a visit to Tarot's shop today, hmm? I would so like to see it." "And maybe we could also pick up some flowers for the Quick Sand." she grinned conspiratorially, "I could put them out before I start work tonight!"

As long as you don't mind my browsing!

"Well, maybe we could visit it together! Then you wouldn't be alone!" she grinned, "Besides, I love visiting new shops!" As she grinned, the proprietor returned carrying a nice tea set upon a tray. He first set the tall, metallic teapot upon the coffee table, standing on three legs that suspended the body of the pot away from the table. He set down a saucer and tea cup for each of them, followed by a decanter of cream, a small ceramic pot of honey, and a plate decorated with a few small chocolates. He bowed his head politely as he finished, and then poured tea into each of the cups, "Please, please enjoy!" he bowed his head again. "Thaaank you!" chimed in Aya, glancing to Coatleque, "Its just wonderful isn't it! They really have great tea here, and cream and honey and everything!" she lifted the tea cup up to her lips, blowing across its steaming surface before taking in the delicate fragrance, followed by a brief overly-hot sip of the black tea.

Aya listened intently, smiling with her blue eyes wide and attentive. She giggled a little at the thought of flowers in the Quick Sand, "Oh.. I just don't think they would last!" she laughed a little more in amusement, "All of those rough and tough types coming in only to find pretty flowers in the middle of their drinking tables! Oh, just imagine it! But it would be so lovely while it lasted!" The mention of Tarot drew a look of recognition, "Oh! I met him the other week! What a strange name though, 'Crooked'! He insisted it was a sign of honesty..." she looked up and away, her lips pulling tight but crooked for a moment, "But I'm not so suuuuure... I didn't know he had a shop right here in town, what does he sell?" Aya looked back to Coatleque with an excited curiosity, her hands folded together near her lap, but she could almost feel the girl's energy, even as she sat mostly relaxed upon the divan.

Hehe... welcome to the military! I haven't played an MMO character yet that would make a good soldier (Aya is one of the worst in that regard), but those seem like the sort of things that a military guild would usually expect I mentioned it in an earlier post, but I am really happy that Final Fantasy has provided these "adventurer" hook-in organizations. It seems that everywhere you go you encounter some sort of organized NPC activity - and while its somewhat formulaic, its also wonderfully immersive. It also provides great RP opportunities all around, from the Flames, to the Sultan Sworn, and the true adventurer types still serving as militia in their GC. Its great stuff.

Well, we don't really have any clue how long it takes, or what the total rank structure looks like. Captain, though, seems entirely reasonable: someone has to herd all of these 2nd Lieutenants

Canon: you can't acquire the building permit to have your own room unless you're a 2nd. Lt. in a Grand Company! *pat* Personal rooms are not main story either! You also must be in a free company and level 50. Sorry, I'm trying to figure out what the main story has to do with anything. GC ranks are so tied into anything that its difficult to imagine any active level 50 character not being max rank.