Aya

Its a nuisance getting onto Balmung, but that has its advantages :-D The population is sooo above normal for RPers, and non-Rpers don't make the same sort of effort to get on-server that RPers do. Nor do gold spammers...! If you can't make it onto Balmung, then a handful of servers have their own RP communities (Gilgamesh is the obvious one!) You'll find a home you're happy with somewhere I think Welcome to the RPC!

Generic is a great starting point :-D Welcome to the RPC, and to Balmung!

Welcome to Ul'dah! You should find plenty of stories to listen to and people to meet...a collector of stories is a wonderful concept

Hello and welcome to Balmung and the RPC!

Poor Captain Popoto!

Wow! :-D

♥♥♥ Love the Wayfarer's! ♥♥♥ (not here for the prizes! Just to say hi :-D )

V'aleera will join us in Costa del Sol!

Weeeeeeeeelcooooome!! :-D I love the background too!

[align=center][/align] [align=center][Homecoming - Part Four][/align] The wind roared with primal might and whipped freshly fallen snow into a whistling cloak of biting fury. Sturdy trees shuttered in the face of a Coerthas blizzard that tested the strength of roots-massive anchors dug deep within frostbitten earth. The brief hours of winter daylight were cut shorter yet by the long enveloping shadows cast by the threatening peaks that loomed menacingly above the highland hinterlands which the storm relentlessly gripped. The chill of death descended upon the land on the heels of the retreating sun, smothering everything within its creeping expanse. This was never the plan. There had been a plan hadn't there? Three days in the open country with a week's worth of provisions, just in case. Heavy fur-lined trappings, the bounty of gil spent with an unusual foresight by the happy-go-lucky girl. She peered through the narrow slits of snow goggles that protected her eyes during the brief hours of daylight, but banks of thick coniferous trees vanished into the gray-soupy cloud of white-out mere feet before her. Each step forward bore the weight of snow and frost accumulating in the furs that had so far preserved her against the season's even harsher cold. This was never the plan. There had been a plan hadn't there? The sky had been clear on the night of her flight. A new moon was the key to success, and there had been no sign of approaching storm. But the expanse of Coerthas' forest could trap the most experienced woodsmen, let alone a woman who had never before set foot in them. A woman had known nothing but stone, cobble, brick, and shingle for a decade or more. Three days passed, and she seemed no closer to her goal. The roads were hostile, patrolled by those who would carry her back to the prison-city from which she had fled. There was no comfort, and no path but to move forward. This was never the plan. There had been a plan hadn't there? It seemed like everything was coming and going in circles. Each step forward felt like the last. Her thoughts trapped in a cycle of a confused searching. How many nights had she spent in that makeshift shelter? She'd lost count. The storm arrived with such merciless haste that she had been caught unprepared. Only quick thinking had spared her - it had, hadn't it? But the food was gone. This was never the plan. There had been a plan hadn't there? The weight was intense. Her muscles strained. Her flesh long ago had gone numb from the wet chill, but she pressed forward despite all. Just another step. Another step forward. She didn't think about where she was going - she had no idea. The forest closed in around her. Long-shadowed trees were enveloped in life-quenching darkness. This was never the... hadn't she been over this already? She struggled to stand upright. Her feet paused momentarily. What is the plan? She wondered, confused. Tired. Exhausted. Her stomach was empty. Her blood grew cold. Senses that had been sharpened by the demands of necessity now grew weak and faint under its strain. She pulled the protective goggles from her eyes, searching hopelessly for a path in the endless expanse of snow-covered forest. A mittenned hand fished into a pouch, retrieving her magitek-beacon. With a click it hummed to life. A blue-white light shone in every direction, but still she could not find a way out or a path forward. If she even knew where forward were, her tracks rapidly filling in behind her. There had been a plan hadn't there? She looked in confusion as she stared at the light emanating from the device in her hand. What was she looking for again? She felt the strange warmth in her palm. She smiled against a blast of wind, and wondered if this was what the end felt like. It is said that one's life flashes before one's eyes as you are about to die. She stumbled forward, and fell face-down in the fresh snow. There was no flash, only the dull-numbness of the frozen air encroaching all-around. It seeped into every pore, cut through every garment. She thought of the fires of home. Of smiles and laughter. A sense of warmth overcame her, then of peace. The struggle was over. She felt her body no more. She was as if floating. Gliding, sliding along. She could still hear the wind. It howled around her. How strange, she thought, that death could sound so much like life. But everything was so restful, carried aloft by these currents. She felt a bump, and a thud. Then the gliding, the floating returned. The peace that had overwhelmed her had been interrupted. Eyes strained to open. Dark tree-shapes slid past her. The shapes grew broader, and darker once more, until she saw no more. Warmth. Warmth. Warmth. This is better - warmth in the darkness. The cold was gone. Or maybe it had never been. A rush of sensation forced her awake. A pressure against lips, a sense of touch as if the broken connection to her body were suddenly restored. A feeling of heat filled her mouth, her throat, and flowed deep within. She exerted every once of strength to force her eyes open. Bare slits saw the reflection of fire covering whatever space she was in. A moment later she felt the sensation again, as she took in another mouth-full of hot broth. It seemed as if an eternity passed as she tried to open her eyes. Slowly the scene emerged within the hut. A gray-haired Elezen carefully, and slowly offered her spoon-fulls of the life-giving soup. Her throat was too hoarse to speak, and the old man never broke the silence. How long she was there - only he could know. At some point he ushered her back into the elements, and seated her on his hand-built wooden sledge. He looped a yoke over his shoulders and began the task of bodily pulling her along the still-fresh snow. The storm had passed. The sun returned. At last he stopped, and helped her stand. He set her pack upon her shoulders, stocked and full. He placed her beacon within her palm, gripped her shoulders with a broad smile, and turned her around. He gestured toward an obvious path, and then turned back the way he had come, drawing the yoke upon his shoulders as he took up the weight of the now-empty sledge. She tried to call to him, but no voice escaped. At last, she started down the path. Within minutes the wood opened up before her, forming a broad snowy plain. But the fresh snow was receding. In the distance it became patchy, interspersed with bare ground. On the horizon stood the black, enormous trunks of the Black Shroud... Slender fingers of a gloved, feminine hand pushed away the flakes of frost from a small slab of gleaming white granite that was embedded in the soil. She traced the outline of the inscription, which read simply, "Du Bois" (of the woods). As she gazed at the memorial she imagined her own name upon it, "Aya Tharintreu". As it would have been, but for the man memorialized. With a careful, slow motion she lowered a token of her affection onto the small slab. A single White Rose, carefully dried to preserve against the ravages of frost. She knelt before the nondescript grave, thoughts and memories washing over her. Tears flowed free--sadness mellowed by a sense of overwhelming gratitude.

Welcome back! :-D

Aya will just wish she could afford such things! :-D

Totally should RP them! And completely adorbs

I hope to meet you at the QS! Aya's no longer as big a part of that scene as she was, but I still like to come by and meet people "on shift" ^^

I've just been looking at and adding some rumors lately, and I thought I would bump this advice thread! I know that tumblr and whatnots have become a lot more popular, and I know that wikis are pretty much impossible to keep up to date, but leaving rumors on other people's wikis are like the best way to make a positive impression on them, and to build up an idea of a character's reputation I really do find them more informative than any amount of narrative that might be written about them! So, if you have a friend, or even just an acquaintance you know out there with a wiki, leave them a little rumor! They won't forget it, and you'll both enjoy it!

I would re-iterate everything that Maril said, insightful and well said! To put it another way: you shouldn't limit yourself to thinking that "only some kind of encounters can provide character development", or (although it was not stated) that character growth is the only kind of development that can occur. Sometimes, in RP just as in reality, we find the most unlikely, trivial, or random chance encounters can be the most important. That random conversation that gives you a different way of looking at things, that new friend it turns out is going to introduce you to a whole new world. Just like in reality, you never know what is going to happen when you introduce yourself to someone new, which is what makes it so simultaneously exciting and intimidating. Casual RP is also the very best way to learn about your own character, and to lend them definition. Its where you learn how they interact with people and react to every-day occurrences. That's not going to be necessary, or fun, for everyone, but it has its own immense value in creating, crafting, and fine-tuning the character's persona. I'm still going to ask, "would anyone like to RP?" because, durnit, sometimes someone does, and that always makes me happy (and leads to RP fun). More often than not its just crickets, but that's life.

I don't feel like RP events actually interfere as much as PvE, crafting, etc, even as prevalent as they are now. That's not a bad thing, its just the way it is when it comes to MMO RP. And Zhavi is entirely right: you have to make your own opportunities, and create you own chances to RP. You can't rely on them just happening, though I suggest you embrace those chances when you get them

The timing of Buccaneering isn't good for me (Saturday nights usually aren't), I'd love to see it moved to Monday or something, but if not I may have to withdraw, V!

Welcome to the RPC and to Balmung!!

Trouble in Costa Del Sol? That could interrupt a day of sun bathing and pina coladas! Aya is in for Big Buccaneery, totally in!

It doesn't mean Enormously Rotund Personas?

I love the outfit! Welcome to Balmung

[align=center][/align] [align=center][Homecoming - Part Three][/align] It was only a brief stopover, but there were some things that simply had to be attended to whenever passing through Gridania. Fortunately, Miounne is a woman who is all warmth and welcome when one does not owe her money. That made this trip significantly less stressful than others. The exchange of warm smiles was enough for pleasantries with her old employer. She could not help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips as she stepped down the steps to exit the Canopy. Gridania had become an altogether more welcome place, something to which she owed one Monsieur Otto Vann, and a handful of retired Wood Wailers. She adjusted the bag she carried over her shoulder. The long coat that adorned her lent an oppressive heat to the moment, despite hanging open in the sun of an autumn morning. Preparing to travel through Coerthas was never easy, and it meant a coat to awkward to carry even on a sunny day. Stepping toward the Old Town she mentally reviewed her to-do-list: visit the designer Yoyomundi, check in for her overnight stay at Lea's, and pay a quick visit to the Sleeping Boar and the Rabbit Hole. For a moment she felt aghast at the tediousness of it all. There was a near collision as she stopped cold in her tracks, completely oblivious to the weekday foot traffic moving all about her. She looked up, her free hand shielding her eyes from the rays of sunlight that managed their way past the overarching canopy of of buildings and trees. She took in a slow, deep breath of the crisp autumn air. She closed her eyes in appreciation. This was the scent of freedom. The taste of liberty. Visiting friends was no hardship. She opened her eyes, adjusted her pack, and hurried on her way with smile restored. [align=center][/align] [align=center][/align] "Oh, Aya dear, yes he is back in the gardens. He will be so pleased to see you." The matronly Elezen offered a warm if sympathetic smile that Aya returned with eagerness. Madame Delannoy was the heiress of storied heritage, and the misfortunate employer of one Silas Greenthumb, a gardener. And it was he that Aya had come to see. She strode slowly out the open doors and through a cozy wood portico into the garden. The sound of her heels against the board flooring was unmistakable, and amidst the uneven rows of shrubbery and plants, showing only the first sign of fall's tinge, a squat, hunched figure perked up. Silas was the latest, and last, of a long and storied line of gardeners. They had served the Delannoy's since his ancestor had first ploughed and contoured the plot of land into the finest garden in Gridania. It had been renown for its sense of intimacy with nature, and the glorious palette of its spring-time hues. But somewhere along the line the family talent had petered out, and although Silas was as much part of Madame Delannoy's inheritance as the manor itself, the garden had suffered for it. The hunched-gardener looked about, eyes narrowed in the squint of the hopelessly myopic. He couldn't see her, or at least could not quite make her out, but he already knew his guest. "Flower girl!" he called out with child-like excitement. "Flower girl, I'd know you anywhere!" She could not help but grin. There was something about the fellow that always made her smile. "Oh Silas, it is me!" she let out an excited laugh. He moved with a fitful little start, working his way to one of the cobbled paths that wound its way through the lawn and garden that were his charge. The ornamental plants never bloomed with the radiant plumage of generations past. The hedge-trims were largely neat, but lacked the remarkable natural feel that the Madame remembered from her childhood. But, there was one phenomenal thing Silas achieved every year. From spring through autumn the garden was blessed with a sweet, complex perfume of varied fragrance that ever varied but never waned until the winter frosts first struck. This fragrant bouquet Aya absorbed with a happy sigh, meeting the giddy little gardener upon his path. "You've brought me some flowers I hope?" He asked with an irrepressible anticipation. Aya laughed, drawing her bangs back with a free hand. A little motion that escaped the fellows near-useless vision. "Silas," she said with playful disappointment as her hand came to rest on a cocked hip. "You know that I only worked that job for a week, and that was cycles ago now." The gardener grinned with a nod. He could not see her smile, but he could hear it, despite her best effort to obscure it. "But!" he insisted irresistibly, "you're still the 'Flower Girl'!" She laughed along with him, opening the small package of flowers she was carrying and offering them to him. They were just what he wanted. In fact, he had just ordered them. Aya, as she always did, had stopped by her former employer, offering to make the next delivery for them. They gladly obliged. Silas poked his face over the bag, stubby fingers pulling it open while she held it toward him. "Perfect! Just perfect! You always bring the best, Flower Girl!" he laughed excitedly while accepting the package. He unceremoniously plopped it on the ground by the path, "I really cannot thank you enough...!" She interrupted him, retrieving in an unseen flourish a small box from her purse. "And...". He fell silent, useless eyes opened wide in surprise as he stared at the unexpected object. "What is...?" he began to ask as she abruptly flipped the lid open. A tinkling tune began to play, while the figure of a dancing girl made a slow pirouetting circle atop. It was another of Verad's Dubious oddities, finding new life with the help of deft fingers and a little ingenuity. Silas' wide eyes were joined by a mouth opened wider with delightful surprise. He stammered for a moment, "But - But Flower Girl w - why? Is this - is this for me?" Her voice flowed in reply like the sweet current of a summer stream, "It is yours, my friend. A gift to a most loyal customer, and a fine friend." He embraced it suddenly, pulling the still playing music-box tight to his chest. "It sings!" he shouted in happiness. She laughed, "It does..!" He did not know the dancing figure was meant to remind him of her. He didn't know anything about her except that she always brought flowers, and somehow - somehow always made him feel better than he had before she'd been there. "Tell me about what you've got planted right now..." she asked softly, gently nudging him back into the garden that was his life's work... Madame Delannoy personally opened the front door for Aya as she left. "I thank you." she said, with a bow far more humble than Aya deserved. "You are welcome. And: Merci, Madame. Thank you." She bowed her head deeply, hand held to her chest in a sign of gratitude. The Mistress knew exactly what the young woman meant. They exchanged smiles one more time, and then she stepped out into the evening cold. Aya knew this road all too well. The sun was already rising late this time of year, leaving a short day for the walk to Fallgourd Float. It had been many moons since her last time upon the path, but she remembered it like the patrols were yesterday. Airship service to Ishgard had already been renewed, and she could have saved herself a wealth of trouble by using it. But something about that just wouldn't be right. There were too many steps to retrace. Too many memories to relive. The greatest trial of her life to see again with fresh eyes. The miracle of her survival to appreciate. The charity that had been her savior to repay. She adjusted her coat, and embraced the chill. She flexed her grip around the spear that completed her guise as an adventurer. She took in the scent of the wood, and the sound of the breeze rustling dry leaves. Tonight she would sleep in the all-too-familiar quarters of Fallgourd Float's inn. And tomorrow--tomorrow she would return to Coerthas and its frozen expanse. She would be well on her way home.

Yay! Welcome to the RPC!!