Verad

The goal is manifold. This is the first suggestion that can be made a reality, given the short amount of time we've had boots on this proverbial ground. You're still on about precisely nothing, by the way. You're also lending credence to the notion that the issue needs to be discussed, as no other lasting practical solution happens to exist. This means, in grownup world, that we need more information on what causes this issue to begin with. Information that comes from an exchange between multiple parties, so that an aggregate with some kind of focus on cornerstones of the problem at hand can be formed. Is there more you'd like to willfully ignore in an attempt to seem way cool and detached, or did you have another volume or two of words that signify jackshit to throw out there? Well, since you asked, how do you plan on collecting this information? What would you consider to be the end goal of a lasting practical solution? Do you have any ideas as to what you would do for a longer-term plan beyond inviting players to roleplay with your FC?

Something more useful and lasting than "Come play with Misericorde" in response to individual and specific calls for play posted to a single thread is going to be necessary for solving this problem. Otherwise, we can expect it to continue unless you plan to curate this thread for the foreseeable future. If the goal is really just "Here, come play with Misericorde, we won't turn you away if you post here," then by all means, carry on!

Great! Let's talk about those. In what way do you feel those references are lacking? If those address the most common solutions, what do you think is missing that isn't so wholly unique as to be within the realm of individual experience, but still out of the ordinary enough that it wouldn't be thought of when writing these kinds of guides? How can those problems be addressed?

What apathy? I'm keenly interested in this. Shuck said there are patterns in roleplay. This is true. If those common patterns have common solutions, why shouldn't we make people aware of common solutions first? Unless you're suggesting that every situation is so unique that no one answer can be sufficient for more than one person at a time, it seems reasonable to provide a general "Here are some common solutions" thread that can be referenced at any time for new players expressing concerns. Yes, I'm sure some players will be frustrated with that. Or maybe they've already tried that. Then take their claims in particular more seriously and address them with individual responses. What you're misunderstanding is this: I would like to see this never be talked about not because there's a problem and it's convenient to not have to put up with it, but because there is no longer a problem to discuss. I presume nobody here wants to keep discussing a problem that no longer needs to be discussed?

Yes, and when that happens, it is perfectly reasonable to post about it. I would nevertheless like to minimize the amount of people who need to post about it as much as possible. Because as other people in this particular shambling corpse have noted, sometimes you get people who are clearly posting without having tried restarting the metaphorical modem. And, of course, talking about things for which there can be no clear solution in a voluntary hobby with a fluid and decentralized population base isn't always going to fix issues either. But it can make people unnecessarily unreasonable at each other about it.

You can say pretty much whatever you want, but like a lot situations in life, one of these answers is going to be totally wrong. Then yes, as close to never as humanly possible. If nothing else I'd like something like the RP equivalent of a "Have you tried restarting your modem?" to provide to players having these complaints.

Can I say yes, or is this rhetorical?

Play the early games because they're good games.

Nobody needs to read Campbell. *Heresy* Personally I think that Verad and Aya would have made a terrific WoL duo, lucking their way to victory. Verad would hock the elemental crystals acquired from primal fights and use the Echo to bolster his Dubious Divination service. Fighting Titan would involve a lot of screaming and running away until he somehow managed to make Titan trip and fall off his own arena.

Nobody needs to read Campbell. *Heresy*

I was going to say I have a few points, but actually I have a lot of points. I'll be quoting from the system directly. This is fine, but you can trim the amount of rolls you have to make if you don't make a separate damage roll and just make damage derived from the difference between the attack and defense. Cloud attacks Sephiroth. Cloud rolls 600, Sephiroth rolls 30. Cloud's attack is successful. The difference is 570, but Sephiroth only takes 400 damage. You'll want to cut down on the number of rolls you make in general; you have many rules showing multiple /random attempts that appear in response to an action, and not only does this make those actions less valuable, but it will slow down the combat to an unreasonable degree. For example, here. Recover is only useful if there are few characters who can interrupt the casting, and scales down in usefulness if there's a large number of opponents. You may need to find another way of having a Recover roll be interrupted that doesn't require every member of the opposing team to roll against it - perhaps an upper limit on the number of players who can attempt to interrupt, or require players to sacrifice an action to interrupt. Further, having the recovery roll be more effective at healing than attacking is at inflicting damage could make fights drag out. You may want to make Recover provide less hp than more, in order to ensure that fight's end at some point. Remember there should be an in-game justification for play choices. Setting aside that Retreat has the same problem above - more opponents, less chance of success, less likely to be used - I'm unclear as to why this would prevent a character from re-entering combat. What's the logic? This role, as written, ensures that I will never attack a Tank if I can help it, because I know they can absorb damage but they can't stop me from attacking the healers or the DPS. So why would I? You've correctly identified that part of being a tank is taking less damage, but you've missed that being a tank means taking other people's damage as well, and being more effective at it than they are. If you don't include a mechanic that allows Tanks to take damage for other people, or forces their opponents to attack them, then there is no reason for an enemy to do so, and in fact, it would be a bad choice. This will make fights last a very long time, since there is no possibility of failure within resurrection. It's more potent than Recover, because enemies can't interrupt it, and it restores more HP than Recover. This will make fights drag on, and it encourages people dying and getting resurrected over receiving healing, which, while amusingly morbid, is probably not what you're going for. Try including a time-limit for when a character can be resurrected, or make a resurrection roll difficult to perform. Put some risk/reward in there - the healer could be fixing somebody who still needs help, or they could take a shot at bringing back a combatant to join the fray. This one's fine. Another possibility might be to choose to do double-damage on one attack, again for the sake of minimizing the amount of rolling you have to do. (If that seems like a big concern of mine, it's because I know that freeform RPers can often be frustrated when a great deal of OOC material like /random or tactical discussions related to system mechanics interfere with the actual progression of a scene. Trust me, it can be a problem.) I don't have many comments on Section 5, but I do have questions. Right now it's very vaguely defined. Bosses are tougher, and players can get loot. Okay. What kind of loot? Does it have an impact on their abilities in the system? Are they more likely to be running into events with boss characters, or fighting other players in this system? Do Bosses get any unique abilities, and do you have examples of those? And above all, what is your goal in this system? What are you trying to achieve by mechanically representing what a number of players prefer to keep entirely arbitrary through freeform combat? I do not ask that to challenge you and say you shouldn't do it. I ask that because having a design goal will influence your decisions and make a more interesting system in the end. Finally, come check this place out and seek me out for an invite: Roll Eorzea. We have an in-house dice system, but I'm always willing to talk shop and help other people with their own set-up.

Solidarity with the Ala Mhigan refugees at Quarrymill. While their shirtless brothers go without shelter, they shall remain unclad.

There is a distinction between "Bad Guy" as in horrible individuals, and Villains, as in for a character created to fufill a function in a storyline. People who just want to gather together and roleplay 'bad-guys' for the sake of being bad is, Well, their right. Though questions are raised as to the actual execution of such a concept. I do not see any questions. What questions are being raised?

If only there were some way you could have prevented it, so that your words would be recognized for being as effective as they are.

Yeees, because this way you can start a topic and introduce new discussion without having to worry about the prior context. You can even say "I was reading this thread and saw this particular reply, so I thought I'd start a new line of discussion on it here." If this is so oppressive that you feel you are being placed under erasure, then I don't really know what to say. The prior context is critical to this subject. And there are ways to include that context through means such as the creation of a new thread and effective paraphrase and restatement of opinions that have come before which do not require the reader to sift through ten pages in order to get to your point. You can also choose to cite the most relevant points in the thread without having to worry about the posting history of people you don't recognize. There are advantages to this that make your point more effective! As it is, you haven't done much but get a meta-discussion going about how and what constitutes proper netiquette when revisiting old topics, and very little discussion at all about the validity of your points. If this was your goal, then bravo, I salute.

Glad you find it funny. But the discussion was "closed" with a majority against the tumblr poster based on poorly reasoned logical fallacies. Discussions should be left at a poor conclusion because of some arbitrary forum ettiquette where you're supposed to bite your tongue because 60 days has passed since the last post? That's just dumb. Do you feel like you have tipped the balance?

Yeees, because this way you can start a topic and introduce new discussion without having to worry about the prior context. You can even say "I was reading this thread and saw this particular reply, so I thought I'd start a new line of discussion on it here." If this is so oppressive that you feel you are being placed under erasure, then I don't really know what to say.

I agree with what you're saying, strange black-cloaked figure engaging in dark and foul thread sorcery, but this is some serious necromancy right here.

Depth is death - especially, ironically, if the character is not meant to be killed off. Having that redeemable quality, even if you do not capitalize on it, will cause players to expect that the character will show growth in that direction. Failure to do so can and will lead to angry players because they will feel like they are not having an impact on your own character's behavior.

It's true, running a story is exhausting work and I don't recommend it to anybody, so please stop if you're doing so. Jerkwadism is fine, though, and I've found that my antagonistic characters work best when they are jerkwads. To take it a step further, though, they work best when they are not interesting or stylish jerkwads. This is the great contradiction I see with players trying to make antagonistic characters: They want to make their characters be antagonistic, but then do things that undermine their ability to do so. One of these is taking the oft-given and oft-misguided advice that a villain's motives should be understandable in some way, in order to allow the audience to relate to them. I understand the intent - making your character something to whom your audience can relate would seem, in theory, to put the protagonists in a moral quandary somehow. In practice, it results in a great deal of Draco in Leather Pants* and the character's slow degrading from antagonist to just another person. The other problem I see is what happens when players try to make their antagonists interesting by making them cool. They get witty one-liners and nice-looking outfits and suitably impressive backstories. All of this only accelerates the problem above. In order to run an effective antagonist for any length of time, you will need to make players want to RP with you with the goal of "I want to see that sonovabitch dead" rather than "This guy is so compelling! Give me more!" And that means as few cool bits as possible. *I hate referencing TVTropes in any circumstance, but for once the term applies.

Haukke Manor, Normal Mode: "In my memoirs there is a passage in which I write with great fondness of a particular noble lady who had recently purchased a house in the Sorrel Haven. I met her on a buying mission, and our affair was intense, but all-too brief. When I was forced to leave, I swore that I would return, and she, despite my protests, insisted that when I did, I would find her as beautiful as the day she met. Never did figure out which manor the passage references, though. I assume it was destroyed in the Calamity."

Page 96: Proper introductions are made, and we then wait a few minutes at the railing until a table clears, silence between the three of us. For once, even Alienne is quiet, though this appears to be more a matter of examining the arse on a passing Seeker woman than out of any sense of pensiveness. I'll take whatever opportunity I can get for something that appears respectful, and Heidolf seems more eager to talk only once he's seated. Besides, it is a nice arse, I must admit. Finally, a table opens near the center edge of the Quicksand, and Alienne vaults over the rail to claim it before anyone else can. Our customer and I follow suit shortly after. Aya approaches and offers our drinks. It's the usual for me, and she is of course happy to make me suffer through qiqirn firewater at my request, it being the worst drink, in her opinion, and an ale for Alienne and Heidolf. Only after she has half-skipped towards another table does the man seem willing to speak. The desperation of his request has faded to something subdued, the initial burst of emotion seeming more like a frightened animal peeking out of its hiding-hole now, only to retreat for fear of capture. He folds his hands together, coughs and shuffles. "Well, ah, if you know Burning Edge, personally - " "Does he ever!" Alienne interrupts. I shoot her a glare, and she makes a buttoning motion near her lips, falling silent. "In the interests of full disclosure, I've been out of contact with her for some moons now. But yes, I know her outside her role as a former arena fighter, if that's what you mean." There's relief on his face, but the rest of him remains tightly wound, and he leans forward in his seat. "Good. That's good. I mean, people knew where she was when she was trading debts, but she seemed to have fallen off the shores once she got of the business. If you know where she might be - " I hold up a hand. "I might," I lie, "That's so. If you're asking me to put you in contact with her, I could. But she had debts of her own, did she not? I would hate to have people pursuing her only to make nuisances of themselves." Aya returns with the drinks. Their ales look quite pleasant in comparison to the horrific smell coming from the metal thimble she sets in front of him, an odor noxious and sharp enough that it feels as if my beard is curling. I don't think I'm quite ready to drink it yet, and it's a good thing that she's seen the effects of it often enough that she doesn't stay to watch, taking her payment and a generous tip. "All that said, why don't you tell me why you need to find her? Without the shirt, and the axe, and the - " I pause. "Well, it's easy for a man of your particular tribe to appear menacing given the last two points, you must admit. You have the look of a collector." He nods as I speak, "That's so. The shirt, well, it was just hotter than I like out tonight. As f'r the axe . . . " He sighs. "There's a story to that. All right. You know Burning Edge. How much do you know about her last match?" "What she's told me," I say, gripping the thimble like it's the trigger of a gunblade and I'm not quite ready to pull. "It ended her career rather decisively." "Not just hers." Heidolf says this with something between a snort and a sigh. "Next question - have you ever heard of Tristram the Treant?" The name escapes me, and I'm about to say so when Alienne pipes up. "Oh, yeah, I heard'a that guy! Fella on one've my old ships had his pitcher all done up on the wall. Weren't he like eight fulm or something?" "Thereabouts. Big fellow, uncommon large for an elezen in height and weight. Strong, too. Good win record, few losses. Tended to get used in gimmick fights, you know - see who was strong and brave enough to best the blessed of the Shroud, he gifted with the power of the trees . . . " Heidolf trails off, lost in memory, before recalling his location. "Let me get to it then. Proper introduction. Heidolf Hexte, and good to meet you, ser. Cycles back, I was Tristram's trainer." His name doesn't ring a bell, but I am not overly familiar with the particulars of gladiatorial management from so long ago, at least where such information does not appear in my memoirs, and his name does not. But I can see where he is going with this, at least a little. "A pleasure ser. And from the preamble, may I be so bold as to presume that Burning's last match was one such 'gimmick' fight against your man Tristram?" Heidolf's knuckles turn white around the handle of his mug. "He had a temper," he said. "He wasn't dumb - everybody thought he was dumb, you know, as big as he was and how we advertised him, but he was a clever thinker, good strategist. There was still that temper, though, and sometimes the wrong hit the wrong way could make him lose his cool. Even that wasn't a problem in his matches; he'd get mad, knock the opponent down, they'd yield, that'd be that, the Treant standing in triumph. That's just how it went. "I don't know what it was about that match. It was the usual beforehand, the usual organizations and promotions and threats and such. Maybe it was the look in her face. Maybe she smirked the wrong way, or mayhaps he fancied her and he couldn't stand the humiliation. I don't know. But she got a good hit just so - " He reaches out with the side of one hand to tap against the side of my forehead from across the table. "There, right against his helm. Dazing blow, nothing serious. And he lost his temper. Bashed her face in with a shield and was near to tearing her arm off even after she yielded." Here is where I take my drink, as much to chase off the thought of Burning in her prime with her arm nearly gone as to give the man a moment to collect himself. Qiqirn firewater is a good way of clearing the mind of unpleasant thoughts, as well as the stomach and bowels of their respective contents, but I have a strong enough taste for the stuff that all that happens is a profuse coughing fit and the liquidation of the contents of my nostrils. My distraction gives Alienne a chance to speak, and she kicks her legs onto the table and drains her mug. A bit spills out past her lips. "Yeah, I hear ya, that's rough, ain't it Mr. V?" she says as she wipes off her mouth. "So you want us to go kick this tree guy's ass? I dunno if we do that kinda thing." "We - we don't, Alienne. I don't think that's what he wants. Is that so, Ser Hexte?" "No! No, not at all. Things just got worse for Tristram from there. Burning's career was over after that match, and it's not like there hadn't been countless deaths in the Coliseum, but even so, after that nobody trusted him to face their fighters. People thought he was either too dumb or too mad. We tried to do exhibitions, feats of strength, sideshows before the main event, you know, but - people just thought he was too much of a brute for the bloodsands after that. That match ended two careers. "He fell out of the circuit. Didn't have any family back in the Shroud, so he took to laboring around the city. Took to smoking, you know." A pointed look in Verad's direction. "Started getting in fight, bad ones. It was, ah, I don't know - it was like a mummer so used to being in one part in a play that he was playing it all the time." Suddenly possessed of the urge to sneeze, I fish for my kerchief within the confines of my vest. "I think I can relate to that. You didn't try to give him a hand?" Heidolf lowers his head and glances away from the table. One has to read his eyes carefully, I've noticed. A slight flash here or there gives away more than his physical movements. That they are downcast here, at all, says much. "As much as I could, over the years. But my own reputation was harmed as well. Couldn't handle my fighters, people said, so my means were pretty mean. I helped him out with work and gil where I could, checked in on him the same. 'S why I'm here. "Past few moons when I've looked in he's been odd. He - " "He didn't happen to pick up one of those relics, did he?" I share a glance across the table with Alienne, who nods. Another rearing up of that problem is quite unwelcome. "What? No, nothing like that. It's just like he's been obsessed with Burning. He didn't seem to mind much that he'd lost the match when it was done, years ago, but it's been all he's been talking about. Buying up old posters and match info. I thought he was just reminscing, but the more I talk to him the more it's like . . . " He rubs his hand over the back of his head. "It's like he forgot. Like everything that happened from the match to now just vanished and he's been fixated on doing this one thing he recalls, clear as a mirror. Like he knows he has to beat Burning again, but he can't find her, so he's snapping up all he can. And I think somebody's making him think that way, teasing him into doing it. "And that's bad enough, sure, but he's been getting into fights again, and I think the wrong kind. I went to his flat and his hands were bloodied down to the knuckles. Thought somebody was supplying him something new, so I came here hoping to maybe scare up a somnus dealer and put the hurt out. And then there you were, Ser Bellveil. And now we're here." He falls silent. I don't speak. Alienne's look is quite puzzled. "Ah, you know, this sounds real complicated and stuff. I mean meaning no disresprect, Mr. H, but I betcha I can put you in touch with a hooker lady who looks just like her if you let - " "What do you need me to do?" "What? Come on, Mr. V, you don't wanna - " "We're interested. I can set you up with our rates for our Dubious Detection services if need be." Alienne tries to interrupt again, but I lean forward. "If you need assistance, Ser Hexte, I will provide it to the best of my ability." Eyes straight ahead, elbow on the table, my attention focused on him entirely. I will not let her stop this. "I just - if you know Burning Edge, then find her, please. Bring her here, and maybe we can show Tristram it's over. The match is done. If it's something in his somnus and there's no bringing him back, that's life. But if that will push his memory, then I'll take the chance." I smile. "I am at your service." If my hands are shaking, or my grin is a little forced, I think I can attribute that to the firewater. Fortunately, nobody comments. --- We arrange for payments as Aya clears away our drinks. Heidolf is not a rich man, but he has at least a little money saved, and I don't require much in the way of compensation, especially given the circumstances. In the end, he decides to leave me with the poster - it was just a means of jogging Tristram's memory, and no more, it seemed, rather than a purchase made out of actual enthusiasm for Miss Edge's career. No matter. I consider this a sale made, and one well-earned. A shake of the hand and he leaves the tavern to his own business. Alienne is sharp enough to wait until he's out of earshot. "Mr. V, this is a real, real bad idea," she says, pursing her lips. "Yer gonna get yourself kidnapped again you keep poking your nose in things, and then ain't nobody gonna pay me." "It's fine, Alienne," I reply, signalling for Aya's attention. "He just needs us to find a person, that's all. Besides, since the good Gentleman Inspector left the city, the detecting business has been an open market. High time we took a try at it, don't you agree?" "Okay, yeah, that's fine, but you oughta make An or that new girl or the reporter lady do the work, you know? You ain't gotta do it yourself on account of you get your ass kicked a lot." "I hardly need to do that at all. You're here with me, are you not? And if not you, there's no shortage of people who can assist me. The people at the estate, friends in the Sworn and the Flames . . . why, even Miss Foxheart might be willing if I asked." I hold one hand to my chest and the other up in the air. "I solemnly swear in the name of Oschon to abide by the Martyrdom Clause for the duration of this. I shall follow well-traveled roads, and stay well on the beaten path. All right?" She folds her arms and huffs. "Fine. So how you wanna do this?" What should Verad do next? 1. The simplest way to handle this is to do what Heidolf asks and seek out Burning Edge. What's more, she might be able to tell me more about this final match and fill in details Heidolf could have missed. When last we had spoken she was a dockworker at Vesper Bay. It just so happens that I have a certain connection there which could make finding her very simple indeed. 2. But if Heidolf is wrong, and Burning Edge isn't going to be enough to jog his memories, I should try to look into other avenues of inquiry surrounding Tristram. Who is he, and who does he associate with in the present? Most importantly, what is this drug that might have damaged his memories? 3. Alienne's caution is prudent here; let's take it a step farther and inquire as to Heidolf's own story. We have his version of events; it may be helpful to stop by the Gladiator's Guild and see how they match to the facts. Who should Verad take with him? A. Alienne has done quite well so far, and while her outbursts can derail a conversation, her brawn will compliment my everything else quite nicely. No sense in changing horsebirds midstream. B. Miss Foxheart has a work schedule that can be quite demanding, but she is intelligent, charming, and capable. Unfortunately, she's also highly recognizable as the best waitress in the Quicksand, so she may draw more attention than is necessary. C. If I'm looking for information, there's nobody better than Spahro Llorn. If I'm looking to cause a riot, however, there's also nobody better than Spahro Llorn. Plus the whole thing might get publicized if she finds it interesting enough. D. Write in a person here. Beware of inaccurate portrayals through the self-serving power of Verad-O-Vision.

The Goblet Housing Authority Type: Organization Public Knowledge: Highly public, to the extreme consternation of the adventuring class. Description: The Goblet Housing Authority (or GHA) exists as a bureaucratic arm of the Immortal Flames charged with overseeing the care and maintenance of the Goblet housing districts and their many residents. Unlike many branches of the Flames, this is a largely civilian-run entity which relies on the support of Flames assigned to the wards as a security and enforcement measure. The GHA's goals are twofold - ensure that the Goblet maintains its status as an adventurers-only housing center, and that the Goblet remains attractive enough a housing district that adventurers choose it over the Mist and the Lavender Beds. They fail at both in an awe-inspiring fashion. With regards to their first goal, a number of non-adventuring entities like mercantile groups, criminal syndicates, small business and research centers have managed to enter the Goblet by registering their organizations as adventuring companies through legal loopholes and through maintaining a minimum monthly amount of leves performed by their members. There is very little the GHA can do about this given the influence wielded by these collective groups. With regards to the second goal, the GHA would be much more effective at making the Goblet attractive to adventurers if they weren't so fixated on fulfilling the first goal through the second. In their efforts to remove illegal residents through the careful examination of their lawns and estates for damage, garish decoration, and other property violations, the group have become fussbudgets in the extreme, more interested in whether the grass on one man's lawn is too high than in ensuring the vacant building nearby isn't full of marmots. Every so often this attitude provides a success for the organization, ousting a "free company" that shouldn't have been there in the first place. As such, the GHA are largely regarded as a nuisance to most residents of the Goblet, but one they must pay even a tiny amount of lip-service to if they wish to keep their posh lodgings. As an organization, the GHA is divided into branches for each of the Goblet's wards. Each branch has a divisional chief who manages a number of different housing inspectors. The work is regarded as not being well-paid enough to be worth the hassle of dealing with adventurers and their petty intrigues, but housing enthusiasts clamor for the posts all the same. Where to find it: Live in the Goblet. They'll turn up.

Duh! Nat always laughs at things that remind her of herself! (I'm really bad at this...!) Surprised you made it through a complete sentence without a hair flick, smile, or giggle. You're losing your touch. I am equally surprised you made it through a sentence without up and dying and derailing your plans for the rest of the sentence. Good work!

Take Alienne With Me - 6 (5 in thread, 1 vote in rep) Leave Alienne - 3 "When you are right, you are right," I say, bowing my head with a conciliatory manner, hands spread wide. "Go ahead and move the box out of the way so none of the other members trip over it, hm? I'll just go fetch the poster." Upon my acquiescence, she gets a grin on her face that one could read as either eager or unsettling. I opt for a charitable impression and choose the first. And why shouldn't she be eager? She is my bodyguard, after all, and it's rare that she actually gets to indulge in the act of guarding my body. That sounds worse in my head than I intend, but there's no need to revise it, I think. She bobs her head and starts scanning the garden for a good, conspicuous space to place her trap where it won't be an obstacle for the staff but still be obvious to any rogue popoto-eating apes that might happen by. Leaving her to her work, I make my way into the estate and to my office. The poster is easy enough to find once it's there. Beyond the clutter and piles of books on my desk, I keep the place organized, if I do say so myself, with samples of my dubious goods kept in a cupboard to the left of my desk and personal mementos tucked away in the dresser that dominates the back wall, behind the partition that separates work from sleep space. A moment's quick rummaging and there it is, the parchment still in good shape despite the somewhat musty conditions. Ul'dah is occasionally bad for paper with its sudden rainstorms and humid shocks, but this particular advertisement seems to be made of better stock. To ensure that there are no unusual damages, I take the poster to my desk and unroll it. And there, in all her prime, is a fine likeness of Burning Edge, dark and muscular frame clad in a very tiny amount of leather armor indeed and wielding her signature macuahuitl over her shoulder, flame-orange hair billowing in a fictional wind, a defiant grin on her face. The poster advertises her as one of a trio of exhibition matches from some twelve cycles ago. If I recall correctly, this one ended in a victory for her. The artist certainly captured her spirit. I'll confess to being lost in a momentary admiration. Whether I have it up for sale or not, it is still my poster, after all, and I am allowed a bit of admiration. Perhaps too much, as what shakes me out of it is Alienne's voice, high and sharp like a brass knife. "Wow, Mr. V, look at the tits on her! Was she one'a your harem?" Miss Sandraix has a knack for understanding the situation perfectly and yet phrasing it incorrectly. "I do not have a harem, Alienne," I chide as I look up at her from her position, peering at the poster from the other side of the desk. "I have a number of attractive members of the opposite sex living with me as employees. That is completely different." I start rolling the poster up again. "And no, she was not." "Oh, well, what's that say there?" She points towards one corner in the lower right, where Burning's script is placed in a careful scrawl. "That a misprint or something?" "'For a Burning Desire'," I say, reciting the words. This happens often - Miss Sandraix is more like the native populace than adventuring and mercantile society in being unlettered. "She was rather, ah, effusive in her gratitude after I cleared up the trouble with the debt-slavery ring." She mulls over this, her nose wrinkling, and for a moment it seems like she has more to say. Then her eyes light up in recognition, and she nods. "Okay, I got it! Lemme go get my axe and we'll go on and see this guy about this paper." She saunters out of the building as if she has a plan. The plan is probably no more complicated than hitting people who look at me cross-eyed with one part or another of the axe, but it is a plan. I have to remind myself of that as I roll up the poster and bind it to protect it in transit. Alienne is not a dumb woman. She is merely very direct. --- The trip back to the Quicksand is pleasantly quiet, and I have to say I am glad I decided to accede to Miss Sandraix's requests. Blade patrols are heavy tonight, in order to watch for criminals. It wouldn't do to have them cutting into the Blades' business, after all. A few of them glance my way, as near as I can tell with those masks of theirs, but one look at Miss Sandraix in her armor, wielding that cleaver of an axe on her back, and they think better of it. Perhaps they could overpower us both, she with her axe and I with my knives, but the cost of rolling me for whatever gil I could muster may not be worth the limbs, and so we are unmolested. By my reckoning on the time, there's still a quarter-bell left in my arrangement's deadline, but I wouldn't put it past Heidolf to think I used my claim as an excuse to leave for politeness' sake and absent himself entirely. It's a relief to see he's still there, having placed his own axe against his back, leaning against a wall with arms crossed and an absently expected look, as if there are perfectly good reasons for him to be standing there by his lonesome and he wouldn't actually be waiting for anybody, oh, no, that would be too much trouble. It's the sort of stance I normally see from Tias waiting for a date. Strange to see it on a Highlander, and in regards to such a meeting, but no matter! I am already halfway into my usual flourishing bow before I'm even face to face with the man, holding the poster across my shoulder as more demon-may-care types might do with a sword. "My apologies for the wait, and by gratitude for your patience! May I present you with your poster." He looks down at it, brow knitting in thought, before looking past my shoulder to Alienne, where she stands a not-quite respectable distance away. "Who's the Wildwood?" "Hm? Ah, my security chief, Miss Sandraix." I gesture to her. She waves, perhaps too wildly. "It is late, after all, and one can never be too sure what might occur in the streets of Ul'dah. Especially with an item like this!" I tap the top of the rolled parchment. "Go ahead, have a look." As he takes the poster and removes the binding, I take a moment to glance around the area. It's cleared up a little bit, but the Quicksand might as well be called the Myrmidon Nest for the way it always crawls with activity. Some of the customers have left, and I can't see the adventurers or the brooding elezen, but there are no doubt more. Once this matter is resolved I'll be sure to look for another customer. Presuming the bad streak is resolved, of course. "Huh, I remember this match," he says, and I turn back to see he's unrolled the poster and is scrutinizing it. "And it is signed!" "Indeed it is! Now, normally I would suggest a price of fifty gil for this piece of material, based on market value. But given the signature, I think that raises the price considerably, to at least a hundred and fifty." This is an outrageous sum compared to any of the items in my usual stock, but he seems like a collector and enthusiast, and if I'm going to end a cold streak, I'd like to do so in spectacular fashion. "'For a Burning Desire,'" he mouths, looking over the signature. "Was this for a fan? Seems like a signature for a fan." "Naw, naw, she wrote that 'cause Mr. V used to bang her!" My mouth was only halfway open, my brain only a fraction of an ilm away from formulating a better response. The circuit between Alienne's mind and her tongue is a very fast one indeed. I am, for the moment, frozen. Heidolf, however, is not. His eyes lift from the poster to scan over my face. "Wait, you knew her?" Alienne is quicker to respond. The fact that she is direct also means that she can, at times, be very very dumb. "Yeah, he used to make her effuse all over the place! You gotta watch out for this guy, he's a real charmer with the ladies." Can a beard turn red? Is that possible? Faces can, certainly, but a beard? I'll have to find a mirror, or a reflectively-polished mug. It's probably not a bell before I clear my throat and regain my composure, but I manage a response in what feels like that time. "I did have a personal relationship with Miss Edge in recent moons, yes," I say. "But please, don't mind the sentimental value of the poster. One-hundred and fifty gil should be enou - " I had my hand outstretched as if to indicate where the sum could be placed, and I feel pressure on it. A quick glance, and I see he's clutching my wrist through the sleeve of my tunic, looking up at me through the small difference between our heights. "If you knew her," he says. "Then please, help me." Neither of us expected this move, and I can hear, Alienne from behind me, reaching for her axe. Her armor always clatters in a certain way when she does so. My eyes, however, are fixed on his. This is the first serious shift in his expression that I've seen. Posture, tone, these have changed when I've spoken with Heidolf. But this is the first time the eyes have changed, have shown a desperation, a widening of the irises. "Now you oughta let go of Mr. V," she says, very politely. "Or I'm gonna have to crack open your skull on account of - " I hold up my other hand. "No. No, Alienne, it's fine. Let's hear him talk." Turn to Page 96 to Continue!