Aya

That might depend upon how clever she is! :-D "Raven" this is "Crow". You there?

I love your post Zhavi!! A couple of things that I always try to keep in mind, is that this is an MMO RPG, not a table-top one. Sometimes in a table-top it can be fun and rewarding to take on the character of the unique, the prophesied. Your group can be the Fellowship. As you start to add more and more people it starts to become clear that you can't be set apart by some obvious trait. You're no longer the only bard, the only wizard, the only elf, the only princess, the only dancer, or so on. In a community the size of Balmung no character is unique based upon any collection of identifiers and traits, and if that is what you are aiming for in order to be satisfied you're bound for disappointment. There are so many characters that we instead mirror the real world: they are unique because they are themselves. Just as every person is different, despite there being thousands who share our collection of traits and identifiers (ever our names!) we're still our own individual, so too are our characters. I always feel better when I dismiss that weight to be different and unique, and instead focus on just being the character. My last comment is a more personal one. From my vantage point I appreciate all sorts of characters, but what always tugs and pulls at me are those little hooks I can grab on to that make someone relateable to my own experiences. Challenges, family, frustrations, hopes and dreams, these are what make me sit up, pay attention, and care. I don't really care about your "powers", your traumatic history, or your gadgets (though these all do have their place in things), but when you explain that you're just trying to make gil to support your unfortunate older brother while struggling to live up to your father's expectations that you follow in his footsteps as an engineer, well, suddenly those gadgets you've made in your spare time seem a lot more interesting. Through such things a character becomes a human, someone that you can come to know just like you do a friend. That's when things really seem to work for me. Actually, one very very last comment: Tropes are not bad. Tropes are the collected wisdom of thousands of years of story-telling by millions of people. There is nothing new under the sun, we are all drawing upon the concepts and ideas that we have been steeped in since birth. Do not fear them: embrace them. Both as aspects to conform to (it does help people very rapidly come to grip with your character), and expectations to subvert ("OH NO SHE DIDN'T!").

Thaaaaaaaaaanks Ayaka! I love having one of your cute drawings for Aya! :-D

Welcome to Balmung! From the barmaid who's definitely never stolen apples... :-D

What--Really? I thought I replied to you already? asdlas D: It's okay Ayaka! I know you've been busy! >w< There is too little Ayaka to go around! :-D

Very very nice! :-D Sounds like the sort of person Aya would run into and love to strike up a conversation with!

I wouldn't take things too literally with regards to classes. There are people who use swords that didn't train for the blood sands. The finest lancers in Eorzea are not Gridanian, but Ala Mhigan. There are people who use knives that don't belong to a crazy psuedo-cult-gang in Limsa Lominsa.

Weeelcome! Happy to have another fun person aboard the RPC! Write to your heart's content, that's part of the fun here. I hope you're able to find the inspiration and motivation!

Who Rocks? Bard Rocks, yo.

Ahhh! I think that's a perfect Zhara

I like it! :-D

Part Two: here. Featuring W'chaza Yheli.

[align=center]For Eorzea! - Ala Mhigo (Hidden for risque! NSFW, Swimsuit Edition Style) [/align] A smaller "For Eorzea!" crew, partnered with donation from exiled Ala Mhigans, adventured to the embattled frontier of the Garlean Empire in order to create this final installment of the campaign. For all of you Ala Mhigans looking for a sign of hope out there, we bring you the Ala Mhigan born Aya Foxheart, in the waters of Gyr Abania, celebrating the indomitable spirit of her homeland. [This is the final new content for this Project! Its been a lot of fun! A thank you to Queenie (of our community), and Ragecndy (the commission artist) for all of their artistry!]

[align=center][/align] [align=center][slowing the Wheels of Justice Two - Merchant, Marine Part Two] [align=left][With Leggerless as W'chaza Yheli] [/align] [/align] The sound of high-tide swells crashing against the white-stone bulwarks hundreds of feet below was a steady accompaniment to life in Limsa Lominsa. This late morning was no different, the location a tiny cafe ensconced in the upper reaches of the labyrinthine city. It was a literal hole in the wall - or nearly so - with a small staff of energetic servers and barristas catering to a mostly foreign clientele. Although the Captains and maritime officers of Limsa Lominsa had begun to assimilate the more civilized traits of the great Eorzean cities, coffee-houses had not yet made their way into the Limsan mainstream. The matter on Aya's mind was rather similar. The morning had been a rather lazy one, and she found herself reading local papers, thinking, and writing notes upon a few pieces of scattered parchment while sipping hot, black coffee and waiting for her appointment to arrive. The bulk of her effort was dedicated to a few stanza of verse, scribbled together with numerous adjustments and edits. Wind roars while cables snap and sing, Doused in the dank of chop sea spray. The few who dare, to battens cling, Gritting into wind; too proud to pray. These were the first to ply the sea, Charting their way they searched, and strayed Wild as the surf: damned, rough, and free. They risked it all, to raid or trade. More would follow, in their wake. Then softening ways, and routes begin, The waves were claimed for living's sake, Organized, to be but merchantmen. So the wild, raging, waters tamed Leave men behind, unsure of what to make, Without their place or name, now shamed, By this strange new world, in which they wake. The rules of conduct now are named, All brought tight, strict and uniform. What once was theirs, cannot be claimed, The calm has settled violent storm. And now, in anger, rage, and grief They look to search and find once more, For shred of peace, and sweet relief, For what was theirs in youth or yore. Accompanying the verse were a few stray thoughts made tangible with the aid of her ink pen. "The Maelstrom are an attempt to bring order to pirates." "Pirates have always operated by a code, but one that was flexible and adaptive to the needs of the moment, and to the desires of the most powerful, and popular pirate captains." She'd never been fond of pirates. Those who gleefully take from others; disrupting and destroying lives for the sake of pillage: the taking of what is not rightfully theirs. Criminals were criminals, but pirates a breed a part. So apart that when deciding between city-states she had settled in the almost entirely unknown Ul'dah, rather than the Limsa Lominsa in which she had a history. She touched the pen to her tongue. A thought lingered, not quite fully formed, looking for a place upon the parchment. After another moment she lowered the pen, quickly tracing the letters as if without haste the thought would flitter away: "Piracy is a way of life that escapes other bonds. To pirates it does not mean glory or gold. It means freedom." In this, at least, she could relate. Then stepped in a character from central-casting. The Miqo'te woman was incredibly tall for her people, patches of gray speckling the dark hair that framed a pair of active silver-blue bespectacled eyes. She wore the uniform of a Maelstrom Officer. Descended from the Sun Seeker's of the Sagoli, she could not have seemed more strange at first-blush, but she could have stood in for everything the Maelstrom intended for the future of Limsa Lominsa. Despite appearing an outsider she had been raised within the city, and learned the ways of life upon its elevated streets and alleys. She was well learned, a natural scholar and voracious reader. She'd come to sailing late in life, and earned her Commission more for the capability of her intellect than her knowledge of the sea. Beyond this, there was the less obvious: being possessed of the fitness of a naval officer in the prime of her life, there was nonetheless a slight plumpness to the young woman. A lover of life, as well of knowledge, she'd embraced the ways of modern Limsa Lominsa, founding a cafe of her own and catering to customers who came from far and away for the taste of the finest pastries in Vylbrand, or so they claimed. Lieutenant W'chaza Yheli was everything that the Maelstrom hoped to become. Handsome, stylish, learned, cosmopolitan, and decidedly modern. Everything about her suggested a professional, without a whiff of piracy. It would be hard for Aya to claim that the current case pitted these two opposing forces of Limsan politics against one another. If anything, the swirling conflict took the form of a gripping undercurrent that rippled below waters that appeared far calmer on the surface. But, to her mind, the lack of any actual political conflict in the city was not so much a matter of an actual political consensus on the matter of the Maelstrom's far-reaching reforms, but instead a testament to the Admiral's unquestioned supremacy within the city and the fleet. Few dared to question her intentions, whether they agreed with them or not. W'chaza smiled with a sly confidence. After all, it was Aya who had summoned her with a note left earlier in the morning. The trip to W'chaza's cafe had actually proven most profitable, the remains of a delectable cup-cake were still sitting on the table as she arrived. "Ah, Miss Foxheart. Hope I'm not too late." She paused, glanced over at Aya and the cup-cake quickly, and put away the small book in her hands into her clothes. "Worry not, I set the staff on a supply run so the cafe's closed now. Anyways. I take it this isn't about a culinary pleasure." Aya smiled brightly, an amused little smirk tugging upon her lips as well as the Officer took a seat at the little table. "Mademoiselle Yheli, please allow me to get you a cup of coffee for coming all the way up here, on what I am sure is still a busy day for you." The Miqo'te offered a surrendering shrug of her shoulders, "If you insist. I'll take it black." she demurred with a smile. "You're right, its not entirely pleasure that brings me here this morning," stated Aya to un-surprised ears, "I am sure you remember that just a few weeks ago we appeared before the Captain's board together, and advised against the punishment of a certain Mister Leeds." W'chaza nodded, raising the freshly poured coffee up to her lips before taking a sip. "Aye, that we did. Something related to that now?" Aya nodded, "There are two more sailors accused of mutiny under similar circumstances." She paused for a moment, as if to add gravity to what followed, "I have friends who believe these sailors to, perhaps, be innocent of any actual wrong doing. All they are seeking is a delay in the judgement of the matter." W'chaza's eyes opened slightly at the statement. "A delay? Well." She stopped to think for a moment. "If it's similar to the last case, we have a precedent established already. Problem, though, is the case against these two is solid unlike Mister Leeds." Sighing, she takes another sip of her coffee. "Opponents far more prepared to counter any attempts we'll make now. This time, they'll want the noose on their necks even if it means getting dirty." Aya nodded, "I can agree with all of that. The only good news is that the goal is not the same. Not at the moment: a simple delay in the hearing, rather than a suspended sentence." The Miqo'te peered at Aya for a moment, slightly piqued by the accusation before moving on. "Said something about friends knowing they're innocent, correct? Who might they be?" Aya shook her head slightly, "An adventurer from the Black Shroud, and an Immortal Flames Soldier. I do not know what they know, except that I trust their judgement." W'chaza's eyed flicked to Aya's with a glimmer of recognition at the description of the two familiar characters. "'Trust their judgment' isn't going to work this time around." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, both hands wrapped around the mug as she glanced inquisitively at the collection of papers and notes lying on the table. "It helps you have proof on the public's opinion, but a judgment call only goes so far." "This time around?" She asked with an inquisitiveness before smoothly moving on. "They may be guilty. In all honesty I cannot tell you. Only that a delay in their hearing could provide evidence that exonerates them. Now, I've seen your knowledge of the Maelstrom Code first-hand, and I could think of no one better to help me in this effort." W'chaza pursed her lips, staring at Aya for a moment with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. "No secret it was drilled into me at a young age, that's for sure." she said, "Presuming I help you in the matter, what do you need from me?" Aya looked at W'chaza with an earnest expression, her voice softening, "To employ your knowledge of Maelstrom Law to find reason for this judgment to be delayed. And, if necessary, to appear before the Board and argue for that." The Miqo'te certainly didn't seem pleased about the thought of appearing before another Board. But few things interested her as much as a puzzle to solve, especially when it meant diving into books, and trying to tease meaning from the vagaries of Limsa Lominsa's newly minted legal canon, even if her every instinct at the moment was pulling her away from the commission. "Seven hells, the Board again... I'm trying to ease out of that life, not get into the thick of it." she replied, setting her coffee down with one hand, the index finger of her other hand pressed firmly down against the table. She lets out a light sigh before she speaks again. "I can play their game while I'm still around. Just understand if this all fails, I won't be the only one facing trouble with the outcome. These sailors, myself, you... maybe even these friends of yours and others to come. It's like challenging the Admiral's supremacy with this particular case; you know that, right?" Aya knit her brow for a moment. The statement seemed far less obviously true to her. Losing a legal decision didn't come at grave personal cost even in the more barbaric sectors of Thanalan Law Practices. Was there something about Limsa she'd missed? "Sheez... believe it or not, there's still supposed to be rules to this shite..." The Miqo'te glanced to her right, took another sip of her coffee, mulled for a moment, then looked back at Aya. "Alright. Fine. I have one condition, though. For one evening of my time, I want one evening of your time. A dinner date works, if that's fine with you." The Miqo'te nodded again, with a smile of mischief suddenly drawing over her features. Aya managed to swallow a sigh, instead she just cocked a blonde eyebrow. She took in a breath, before answering with a charming softness drenched in the color of her Ishgard-laced voice, "Of course."

Terrific idea!

Nice

I am writing about Aya and W'Chaza's efforts to delay the judgement of mutineers in Limsa on behalf of Osric and Leanne in my Stranger in a Strange Land thread. Part One: here.

[align=center][/align] [align=center][slowing the Wheels of Justice One - Merchant, Marine Part One][/align] [align=center][/align] (Several of the characters referred to here, originally appeared in the story: One Late Summer Limsan Afternoon) Theme Music Aya closed her eyes against the damp, chill wind. It was just what one should have expected on an early winter evening by the Lominsan wharves - not that she had expected it. She pulled the cloak tighter around her form, swirling winds whirling around uncovered legs while the wet frigidness of the air cut through every layer of clothing she did wear, biting the skin beneath. Lominsan sailors and their land-bound longshoreman cousins are a hearty breed. Bound in leathers and coated canvas better suited to the atmosphere in which they made their living, they went about their business around-the-clock. At the moment an exchange of shifts was underway, and Aya watched carefully as one crew exchanged with the next. She noted each on its way, eyes carefully inspecting each male Roegadyn who passed her by. Beginning to doubt her purpose, she at least spied the visage she had sought. It had seared its way into childhood memories, under the name of 'Masters'. Her eyes followed him as he walked with a small group of co-workers focused, no doubt, on their quest for after-work refreshment. It wasn't long before they spotted her too, and she became subject to a long second-look, but one of appreciation rather than recognition on the part of the Roegadyn she had once known as a foe. "Wonder what she's doin' all th' way dun here?" Asked one. "Why don't you ask her how much she charges?" Joked another to a hearty laugh. The information was good. Here was Masters, once a teenage gang-leader, now a common dock worker. She wouldn't have believed it had she not seen it for her own eyes. ... "He couldn't cut it. It was one thing stealin' food and bullyin' kids. When it came to the real work he just wasn't cut fer it. Washed out, never initiat'd, not even the north siders were take'n him" ... She let out a huff, before pulling the cloak tighter about her figure. A futile effort to stave off the cold, while her mind became distracted by thoughts of warm fire. [align=center][/align] The dark room wasn't quite an open fire, but it was indoors, and it would do. Why was it those in the information trade always seemed to like to work in the dark? She'd have a thing or two to say about the benefits of working in the wide open of the Quick Sand... But, her mind was focused on the task at-hand. This was no normal meeting. The Miqo'te who stood before her was both stranger, and something far closer. His figure was contorted, powerful legs bent and mis-shapen, leaning to the left where he maintained his balance with a simple carved stick of sturdy Shroud dark-wood. The left side of his face was scarred to an unrecognizable degree, barely human, his mouth twisted into a permanent half-grimace. An eyepatch covered the eye, while the other, still-good, offered a penetrating gaze that seemed to ever hover somewhere between insight and malice. "You found 'im, I'm presumin'." The voice, soft and calm, belied his appearance. This wasn't how she remembered him. The sprightly kid Miqo'te who could climb a sheer storefront with an easy scamper. He was as always as quick-witted as he was fleet-footed, with a cheerful sense of mischief that saw him leap into danger time-after-time if it meant a little excitement, and the chance to help friends out of a jam. She'd wished what she'd heard hadn't been true. That he had kept up, just like always, as he grew up. An urchin--son of the streets--he'd known nothing else. Just as he'd helped keep kids out of trouble, soon he was coming to the rescue of his gang and their cohorts. He was always their "ace-in-the-hole". She nodded. "I did." The good half of his face smiled. When joined with the scarred grimace, the effect was unsettling. His luck finally ran out. He made fools of one-too-many, and a trap was laid. This time there would be no fanciful story-book escape. No hijinks or witty retorts tossed over a fleeing shoulder. Only pain and suffering. He was hobbled, and maimed under intense torture. His tail amputated at the base, and hung as a grizzly trophy by the rival gang leader. He was left hobbled; legs broken were not allowed to set properly. Muscles rent by imprecise blade-work never healed correctly. They plucked an eye, and branded the side of his head, scorching his face with a sadistic glee. This was not what he had deserved, a young man so full of life and cheer. He had done his own lot of ill in life, and perhaps no story book ending was ever in his cards, but he'd done nothing deserving what he got. "That," he said coolly, the smile becoming a smirk of satisfaction, "Was a favor fer an old friend. Now, though, you had somethin' else you wished to discuss?" In the end they dropped him off with the Yellow Jackets. He was still a wanted criminal, and they'd let the law handle the rest. Maiming was one thing, but killing altogether different under the gangland code of Limsa. No need for a streetwar, just a little sweet retribution. "There are two sailors accused of mutiny awaiting judgement by the Board. I am sure you already know I helped the last so-accused to defend himself, and now he is acclaimed as a hero of the Maelstom." The disfigured Miqo'te nodded. "Funny tha'. Aya. Funny tha'," he rasped. "Wherever you go they seem to be make'n 'eroes of somebody." She canted her head gently, the dim light betraying a smirk escaping beneath her hood. In, the end, there was one more lesson to be learned: a clever Miqo'te with a photographic memory is no man to trifle with. Dole, for that was his name, settled his business with the Jackets by providing evidence against every single member of the gang that had tortured him. Each one faced their own judgement, round up and dealt with according to their crimes. Save one, whom the wily cat preserved as evidence of his power over them. "I want their hearing delayed," she answered matter-of-factually. "And the street is against them, calling for their hanging. I want to change that, and I think you're just the man to help me." The Miqo'te drew his free hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Well, you've made 'ero of one mutineer already. It is not too much of a stretch to claim these men may be as well." She nodded. "The Captains have little precedent to guide them in there matters. They will be guided by the street." He concurred, "True 'nuff. Though it won't be enough. The Captains all 'ave their own agendas." "I know." She answered shortly, leaving the rest unspoken. Crippled, and having made a good return on his incarceration, the Jackets quickly released their sympathetic prisoner. The days of adventure were over. There would be no more escapades. But the man, now simply know as 'Ace', made the decision to go into work for himself: a trader of information. "Who are you friends?" he asked perceptively, the gaze of his good eye waxing penatrative. "What do you mean?" She asked with weakly feigned surprise. "The Jewel of the Desert does not just come to Limsa Lominsa to save the lives of mutineers." He observed, signaling that the game was on. "There must be someone interested in it. Interested 'nuff to engage you." He paused for effect, drawing his cane before him, and leaning against it with both hands. "And, Thanalan's Ishgardian Belle does not trade in information for gil. Pose for posters, aye. Serve swill, aye. Dance fer all ta see it all, aye. But exchange information, nay. That she won't do, 'cept fer cause." She feigned surprise at the man's insight, all accurate as far as it goes. "Theretofore," he stated with a little triumph, "she is actin' on behalf of friends." He purred with a tenor made all the more disturbing by the scarred grimace. "Now, she is an old friend. And I am willin' to do what she asks. All I ask in return is to know on whose behalf she acts, so that I can know who I am workin' for." His eyes narrowed, his price set, every piece carefully maneuvered to pin his target down. She listened, the feigned surprise fading from her features as he named his price. She held his one-eyed gaze for a moment that stretched beyond suspense. Her eyes slowly narrowed, revealing a look of confidence and mischief that the Miqo'te couldn't help but recognize from their childhood days. At last she reached carefully into her bodice, sliding out a folded parchment which she duly offered to him. Surprise was now his to offer as he suspiciously accepted the parchment. It was warm to the touch, and smelled of her fragrance as he unfolded it. It was an official letter to one "Aya Foxheart, Quicksand, Ul'dah" bearing the letter head of "Escrow and Sons, Limsa Lominsa". Ace knotted his brow. "What's the meaning of this?" "If you read, you'll see they are offering thanks to a loyal customer." It was her turn to pause for effect, her lips drawing back into a pursed-lip grin. "I understand that you have been in a little... mmm... difficulty with them, owing to your previous life. And that this has made certain desired transactions fraught with difficulty, even through your subsidiaries." He folded the paper carefully. The slow methodical motion gave him an opportunity to hide the surprise that emerged only partly upon his voice, "How did..." He sighed, steadying himself. "And you, I s'pose. Could make these acquisitions for me, without the least suspicion." Her lips pouted, her entire body shifting its expression, "Suspect me?" She asked plaintively above suspicion, "What could you suspect me of?" He grinned, nearly laughing at the girl's game. He slipped the paper away. "Very well then. A favor from one old friend to another." She smiled and added a slight nod. "From one old friend to another." As Ace slipped back into the shaded corridor he was joined by his Hyur assistant. "Well, boss, seems she wasn't goin' ta give up 'er friends." "No... that she's not. She not only passed, but she's proven even more wily than expected. I should 'ave know not to underestimate her." "Passed?" asked the Hyur, "Was that a test?" The Miqo'te turned to him with seriousness, "Is it really a test if you know someone is going to pass? I want you to draw up a list of everything we might want from Escrow and Sons. We may not get another opportunity this good."

Welcome to Balmung and to the RPC!

Weeeeeeeeeelcome back! :-D

The coloring...! It just pops! I looove it!

Such a cute idea!

Welcome back to the bestest of the bestest servers :-D And to the RPC!

Hello Caelinmarie!!! We've chatted a few times already, but here's an official welcome to Balmung and the RPC :-D I think you made the right decision! My experience isn't all that much different from yours, and the community and RP around Balmung and the RPC is so terrific that they've kept me in the MMO orbit when otherwise I'd have left it a while back :-] Us Northern Ladies have to stick together!

It is ~totally〜 the most fun! Welcome back to the RPC! :-D