Verad

The last few posts in the thread close out Merchant, Marine as a storyline. There is more to be written about Gloam - at least a couple more posts - but without motivation to do so that can wait for another day. Let's get to the part everyone really cares about - experience! The following players receive Major Milestones: Literally everyone. You get one if you participated in even a single event. Enjoy!

I don't care what they called it in AP English. They are almost universally book reports. The rare instances in which they were asked to do something more complicated are instances in which the students failed to do that thing.

There are several jobs. Whether I hate them or not depends entirely on the day and what I'm doing. At the main job, it's grading season and I have to wade through the incoherent ramblings of freshman composition students trying to write something that isn't a book report for the very first time. I really hate that job right now.

Bridge of the Firmitas "Third hallway, one-hundred-and-fifty fulms. Turn a right dial underneath a set of three short, glowing blue lines. Wait five seconds. Press the panel underneath the dial. It will slide open." ". . . Confirmed." This was a dumb idea. No, Ulf corrected himself, it wasn't a dumb idea, it was an adventurer's idea. There was a crucial but subtle difference. A dumb idea could simply fail or be outright disastrous. An adventurer's idea was simultaneously so ridiculous that it had no logical chance of being the first or even the best possible solution, but so audacious that it had the air of mad impossibility to it, possessing an intangible "What if?" that could motivate the people performing it to heights of ability which would ensure its success. A few weeks ago, he would have thought standing up to a Borealis-class airship with little anti-air and less direct air support was a dumb idea. If they had better forewarning, he would have counselled evacuation, and offered his ships to do it. He had taken limited steps in that regard by assigning veteranus Ironfist to man the assault craft. And yet here they were, now stationed outside the harbor of Gloam with the island unharmed and its people triumphant. Likewise, the thought of dragging Architectus Van Gravis from his confinement in quarters and keeping him trussed up on the bridge to relay instructions to the Immersabilis crew in Dagon 1500 yalms below the ocean's surface had seemed a dumb idea. He was held at swordpoint, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from telling the crew to turn a dial left when they should have turned it right, only for the facility's aspect-conversion engine to turn Gloam into a ceruleum volcano all for the sake of spite. It seemed doomed to fail, but no one understood the workings of the facility better than he. Their options had appeared limited - either find enough engineers of sufficient skill to decipher the workings of the place while dealing with a still-damaged whale-ship and hope nothing in the facility went awry in the moons or more it would take to do so, risking attacks by the deepkin on the island all the while, or take the risk of detonating the place from afar with the Immersabilis' magitek cannon, consequences be damned. Ulf had thought, and thought, and then sat down with the Architectus and had a good, long chat. The contents of that conversation led to the current state, in which he meekly relayed instructions to the team below through an overcharged communicator. "Central hallway. Do not approach the glowing tubes, there are chimeras in there. Straight line through to the central control unit. Regulate ceruleum flow to ten percent." "Ten percent?" Ulf's voice had a warning note. "Not zero?" "If you want your precious island to have enough fuel to trade, it still needs that residual trickle," Virgil snapped. He had agreed to their arrangement, but he still seemed to rankle at no longer being in command. Ulf couldn't blame him for that. "It can produce that even in a dormant state. Or do you want the pumps to corrode without a constant flow?" ". . . Ten percent, then." Virgil tried to make an exaggerated, sarcastic gesture of thanks with his hands bound, but found the point of the gunblade deterred him. Sighing, he returned to the communicator. "Ten percent," he repeated. "Confirm?" ". . . Confirmed." "Good. Final step. Remove three cores from central command. Look for panels underneath the consoles. Should be a glowing yellow. Do not remove glowing blue unless you want the deepkin to rampage. Ten-count between each core's removal." "Acknowledged. Removing first core." A dreadful silence fell over the bridge. The command staff were present, but with the Firmitas stationary in the water and no gunships on flight paths, there was little to do but listen. Every man and woman at their station had their fingers near a specific button, or a particular lever, all to be used to prepare to evacuate if things went awry. "Removing second core." Ulf held his breath and tightened his grip on his gunblade. A single wrong move and all of the victories of the past moon were for naught, their defection without meaning. They would face the choice of returning to Garlemald to face the noose or to Vylbrand to suffer the attentions of the Eorzeans, and their accolades for the triumph at Gloam would only take them so far. "Removing third core." Ticking chronometers were a thing of the past in Garlemald, obsolete curiosities, but with the exception of the Architectus every man and woman on the Firmitas was Ala Mhigan born. Even without such a device nearby, the bridge crew could hear the sound of it in their heads as ten seconds passed. ". . . Third core removed. Dagon powering down. Repeat, Dagon sleeps." They were a well-trained and disciplined crew, but Ulf forgave them the sighs of relief and the relaxing of posture at their stations, and overlooked the occasional cheer. He took hold of the communicator as his attentions on the Architectus relaxed. "Confirmed, team. Return to the Immersabilis and prepare to surface. Excellent work." Virgil relaxed in kind, confident that his death was at least a little less imminent. "Will that be all, Pilus?" he said with the kind of withering sarcasm best reserved for mocking a schoolteacher's position. "Commander will do, please," Ulf replied in as mild a tone of voice as he could manage. He gestured to two of the bridge guards. "Please escort the Architectus back to his chambers." "Turning against the Empire," Virgil grumbled as he was hauled out of his chair and to his feet. "Selling out to pirates and eikon-lovers. Giving over our weapons!" He shot one last glare at Ulf with his third eye as he was led off of the bridge. "Thunderfell would be ashamed of you. If she were alive." The crew of the bridge, which had fallen back into their more relaxed chatter of directing gunships to launch and guiding the whale-ship back to its docking point, fell silent. All expected the crack of a gunshot, or a fist against Virgil's face - and from Ulf, all knew that was as good as a gunshot. Yet he only sighed. "You're right," he admitted. "She would. I suppose I just know why that shouldn't matter anymore." He turned on his heel to face the bridge. "To his quarters, please."

Late Night, Quarters of Captain Holskstymm Faezsyngson, The Gallant "Recognition of meritorious service in enforcing the laws of Limsa." Holskstymm already knew what was on the letter, and hardly needed to have it read aloud to him. But Captain Mulliner was only recently lettered, and vocalizing was necessary for him to finish its contents. Holskstymm hardly minded, as it gave him enough time to refill his tumbler of grog. The harder stuff was always available in-port, but the Captain preferred his watered-down when he was in harbor. His habits meant he was often tapped to adjudicate a court martial, and keeping a clear head - clearer than the average captain at any rate - demanded he develop a taste for the tasteless. "-hereby removing you from command of the Gallant - " Mulliner continued, his brow furrowing in confusion. Another reason Holskstymm didn't mind the time spent: Jambert took in what he was reading. Really took it in and took the time to process it all with the obsessive intensity of someone new to his letters. Put him on a court chair and he would take a bell to figure out the documents, but come up with the right of it in a tenth the time. It was a damn pity so often "the right of it" had nothing to do with standing legal precedent. "-appointing you to the rank of Second Storm Commander, Holsk this is incredible!" Jambert dropped the letter with an air of obvious excitement. Drink in hand, Holskstymm gestured for him to keep going. Nodding, he put the letter to his eyes again. "With the intent of assisting in the refinement and oversight of Maelstrom legal codes. The Admiral hopes that with your expertise-" Holskstymm held up his hand. "You can stop there," he said, plucking the parchment from Jambert's fingers and placing it between them at his desk, the words dimmed as they drew further away from candlelight. "The rest is all just praise, praise, highlighting the seriousness of the recommendation, praise, and a well-wishing conclusion. Standard Admiralty copy." "You're downplaying it. Come now, we've talked about this: Never late for a martial summons, always prepared - and the research on the Morris case, that was a perfect compromise. Commodore didn't like it, but swive Haelstyrmm. And the hearing - " "You weren't there for the hearing," snapped Holskstymm. "Right conclusion, but that was the only thing right about it. Guolwyda shows up -" Jambert winced, and Holskstymm pressed on before the younger captain could object. "She shows up late, and it'd've been better had she never shown at all. Damned fine sailor but she should never be in a martial, just picks the most convenient result. Spahro Llorn appears to harangue the accused before the guards can chase her out, and you know all of that is going to be on record in the Lantern any bell now." Holskstymm drank, and drank deep. The grog being what it was, this gave him little more than motivation to keep griping. "And on top of that, on top of that, the court is packed with adventurers-come-captains pretending as hard as they can that they have the right of it, that they're sure the Commodore did them ill, never mind the proof, and anything they did was just an amusing peccadillo!" Jambert unhooked a small flask from his hip, proffering it over Holskstymm's desk. He waved this away, and Jambert took a swig from it instead. "About that, is Captain Wanngeimdottir recovering well?" "From a lance in the side? About as well as you'd expect. Had to forego her testimony while the chirurgeons looked in on her, but there's a written statement in the briefs." Holskstymm squinted, his spectacles crinkling into his brow. "You haven't been to see her yet?" Jambert shook his head. "No, I was in Vesper overseeing Problemsolver's arrangement with the Commodore. Can't believe the bastard got it signed by the Admiral after the way he turned on the fleet, but her word is her word I suppose. And there's nothing good about anyone using the Spot - " "Rather not change the subject just yet, Captain. You could be seeing her now." Jambert seemed to shrink in his seat. "But you're here patting my back instead." The Midlander always looked small to Holskstymm, but now he seemed to shrivel to half the chair's height. "Just ask her when she's well, would you? Different squadrons, same rank, there's no conflict." "Isn't she making Commodore? Taking the 9th Squadron?" Jambert's voice had both a note of curiosity and the hopeful air of someone who had found a possible excuse. Holskstymm clucked his tongue. "Temporary. Too close to Haelstyrmm's views, you see. It'll be someone from one of the main squadrons, I'm sure. There's nothing in the codes to stop it. And you can trust me to know." Holskstymm took time to refill his tumbler until, in his opinion, Jambert had squirmed in silence long enough. "Speaking of, what did you think of the decision? Did you read the records?" They were both well-versed in the acts of drowning men, and neither commented on the similarity as Jambert leapt on the shift in topic. "Very fair," he said, his voice rising in relief. "Very fair. The Commodore was a bastard, we both know that, but you were right about the lack of proof. And it was a good way to keep the separatists and the sympathizers happy, moving him out of the squadron like that." "Mm." Holskstymm drummed his fingers on his desk, wrinkling his mouth. "It's been nagging at me, though. Couldn't put my finger on it for a while, but - " He raised his eyebrows. "If the Sisters had gotten this mess on their hands - no Maelstrom, not like this. Say more like before the Admiral took control. They get this mess on their hands. What do they do?" Jambert thought about this, but not for long. "Kill the Commodore, most likely. Take it on faith they've got the right man and that he stole from Limsans by withdrawing support, an' go from there." "Did he, though? Are the people on Gloam Limsan? They've made it quite plain, I think - they're far from Limsan or don't want to be. Could argue they stole from Limsan when they ran off with Limsan ships and signed on with Garlemald, regardless of how it turned out. So are the Sisters going to slay the Commodore or cheer him on when he leaves Gloam to die? Assuming they didn't sneak onto the island and slay the leaders of the whole thing themselves." "If he left Gloam to die," Jambert corrected. "Yes, if," said Holskstymm with a roll of his eyes. "No proof, and the logs show he advised Problemsolver to send word. We care about that. You think they'd do the same? Or just take him and put the knives to him until he told them what they wanted? It's the Sisters, after all, it's the sort of thing they would have done, in ages past." "Depended on the guildmaster, I suppose," said Jambert with a shrug, and that only prompted Holskstymm to smack his tumbler upon his desk. "Yes. Exactly. That's exactly right. It depended on the guildmaster. Jacke might have his heart in the right place, for what's that worth, but there could be some right bastards leading the Sisters in ages past, and they'd have a bloodier take on this. An' we're supposed to be better than that. Keep it fair, set up a system so everybody knows what the crimes are, what the punishments are. No more fuzziness like the Code, which was never more than a fancy way to say 'No slaves, an' whatever else displeases the head of the Sisters.'" He picked up the letter between them, waving it in Jambert's face. "They tell me this, that this is what they want, and I know, Jambert, I know in my gut, that when recommendation one is 'Stop every damned captain from sitting on a trial just because they happen to be around at the time,' there'll be kicking and moaning from the squadrons and command. "Oh, some'll be happy - Guolwyda will be glad to never see the inside of a court again, and the sentiment's mutual, but most? The whole damned thing's a substitute, a system people have found comfortable. 'Let the captains interpret the laws as best they may for the Maelstrom.' Just like the Code, but with an official veneer and a Maelstrom flag. It can't stand. Not if we really want to move past a mass of pirates. Not if we want this to last beyond the day Merlwyb falls dead in her quarters." Both of them paused as they considered the image of the Admiral on her deathbed. Without speaking, both of them gave the possibility of death triumphing about even odds. "My point," said Holskstymm, "Is that even after all that, what if that was the wrong call? The Code might have Haelstyrmm dead for something he didn't do, but he is a bastard, and we all know it. This recommendation, it hangs on that being the right call, on proving this is a better way. All it takes, now, is for the Commodore to trip up, and I'll have traditionalists saying 'I told you so' and pushing us back to the old days where we thought the contents of our bowels were good judges of right and wrong. And I still have to sell them on this. "Why bother with of all this?" Holskstymm asked with a deflated air. "Laws with no principles behind them but a captain's gut. Ban privateering, but become furious when pirates quit - not even sailing anymore, they just quit - but not on our terms. There's this stumbling block we can't get past, and it's not freedom, not quite. Disunity, perhaps." He folded over his desk and contented himself with inspecting the bottom of his drink. Jambert could only offer an encouraging smile. That was what he did, in the end. He'd heard Holskstymm rail about difficult judgments in the past, and always there was the damn smile. "I'm sure you'll figure out the right of it. You can sell them on it." "You, mayhaps. I can't. Room in the post they gave me for an advocate if you want it, when you're at shore. I'd be inclined to offer it - " Jambert raised his eyes, and his smile widened. "But you have to talk to Torrael." The smile collapsed with the speed and force of a pugil with a popped bladder. "You're a monster," Jambert groused. "I don't know, I think it's a fair call."

Put me in for breaking and entering.

Suddenly, a new event blocks your path! Shiv Seen That Twist Coming Time: Saturday, Mar 18th, 8 PM EST Captain Torrael Wanngeimdottir of the Halberd, 9th Squadron: Given mounting difficulties between key elements of the joint task force and those of the would-be protectorate known as Gloam, we humbly and respectfully request your presence as both informal mediator and arbiter in the matter of our collective futures, insomuch as they touch upon recent events. We regret that the good Commodore Eynarhmsson cannot serve in such a capacity, but we understand that, as a man of myriad responsibilities and obligations, his esteemed person is required elsewhere and needs not be bothered when his captain can hear us out on his behalf.The captain of the Sultana's Revenge has graciously offered the use of his vessel as neutral ground for such a discourse. We hope that you will find this amenable, should you accept. 'Til Sea Swallows All, Balther Wright 1. Osric Melkire 2. W'chaza Yheli 3. Leanne Delphium 4. Ojene Suinuet 5. S'imba Tia 6.

All spaces are full! I will begin handling Turn usage tomorrow if there is an Act event you wish to perform.

Man, you betray an entire fleet and leave them unsupported one time and suddenly everybody's upset. Will update rosters accordingly in due time.

You are absolutely 100% going to be disarmed as a matter of course.

Installment 7: Flogging Morris It's about time this happened, and while several officers in the Maelstrom have been putting it off, it can be delayed no more: Dominic Morris is to be flogged. Although the event is to be placed in a less public environment than the Aftcastle, his hundred lashes will be displayed for any Limsan curious enough to see. While such displays of naval discipline are typically a spectator sport for the bored and the bloodthirsty, recent events in the city have shown that a crowd can never be trusted to behave. When: Tuesday, Mar 21st, 8:00 PM CST 1. Tiergan Vashir 2. Zaius Rhal'seer 3. 4. Rini Kett 5. Liadan Summerfield Styrmm's End The Maelstrom was expected to provide assistance to the separatist ships of Gloam during the recent fight against the Garleans as part of a joint task force led by Commodore Haelstyrmm of the 9th Squadron. However, the expected support failed to arrive, leaving the separatists and members of the Foreign Levy to defend themselves against a Garlean squadron and a Borealis-class ground assault airship. While they were ultimately successful, they did so knowing the Maelstrom broke its word. Commodore Haelstyrmm has been called to a hearing to justify these actions. When: Thursday, Mar 23rd, 7:30 PM CST Groundlings 1. Leanne Delphium 2. Qara Hotgo 3. Chakha Hotgo 4. Edda Eglantine 5. Virara Wakuwa 6. Gallien Vyese Maelstrom Officials Who Actually Want To Participate 1. Jana Ridah 2. Ojene Suinuet 3. Khunbish Adarkim 4. Zanzan Yanzan Turns Remaining: 0/15 Anstarra Silverain -Prepare Chakha Hotgo -Investigate x 2 (+1 Extra Turn Penalty for Compromise) Khunbish Adarkim -Prepare -Investigate Ojene Suinuet -Investigate Osric Melkire -Act (6-Person Maximum) Story Aspects Ceruleum Shortage - The Syndicate is making a killing selling ceruleum to Limsans now that the price has artificially spiked to levels bordering on the obscene in the wake of the recent shortage. The magitek appliances which appeared throughout the city are now impossible to power as the Maelstrom prioritizes incoming shipments for their own projects. There are rumors that people will kill a man for his magic crystal juice. A New Patriotism - Echoes of this still linger, despite concerted efforts to dispel the sense that Limsa and freedom are increasingly distinct concepts among the populace. People still grumble that the Jackets should just take some troublemaker in and smack him around, or that the Maelstrom should just go ahead and sink some of these pirates they suspect of other trouble, evidence or no, and code be damned. Gloam United - What was originally an alliance of convenience between two forces with every reason to distrust each other has, over the course of moons, become a true organization in its own right. The Garlean defense forces on Gloam have defected for the sake of self-rule, and their united fleet with the Foreign Levy was able to prevent the annihilation of their fledgling colony. The people on the island of Gloam now stand united - they are much less willing to accept compromise on their ideals and goals. But everyone in Limsa loves an underdog story, and the public is much more sympathetic once reports of the separatists bloodying Garlemald's nose start filtering in.

After a very, very fraught and chaotic evening, the combined forces of Gloam have triumphed against the Garlean reprisal force, despite the lack of assistance from Maelstrom forces. The nascent colony has proven its strength. Congratulations to all participants! The third major chapter of Merchant, Marine has finished with the conclusion of "Floating Fortress Firmitas," and milestones are being handed out as follows: Minor Milestones Ojene Suinuet Rini Kett Khunbish Arkhadim Chakha Hotgo Tengri Geneq Edda Eglantine Significant Milestones This is a much simpler list: If you were at the climactic event of Floating Fortress Firmitas, you get a Significant Milestone. Remember, this means that if your character has a Serious Consequence, you can automatically place this into recovery. Apart from the participants of last night's event, the following also receive Significant Milestones: Eamon Eglantine Please see me if you have any comments or questions about how to use your Milestone! The final set of events to close out Merchant, Marine will be posted tomorrow. Stay tuned!

Preparations (Any appropriate gearing-for-battle music is fine here, but to keep it in-setting I prefer .) The Firmitas The ship was humming with activity, though this was an understatement amid the drone of gunship engines as engineers fuelled and refueled, checked, and rechecked, armed and re-armed. Movement on-board the ship-carrier's flight deck happened in a highly-efficient chaos; the Special Expeditionary Cohort had trained and re-trained for exactly this moment, and all performed their roles in the way a mummer on the first night of a performance, fueled by a restless energy and anxiety, a knowledge that this all had to go right, that first impressions counted, and there would be no second chances. Pilus (No; he supposed commander was more appropriate at this point or simply Ulf) Hartsblood strode amid the bustle with a centurion on either side, not so much a serene point of calm in the chaos as a catalyst, spurring the soldiers nearby into movements even-more efficiently hurried than had been the case at but a word from him. "Make sure those markers are visible on the wings. I want no accidental fire from the Eorzean anti-air," to one crew. "Refit that one for bombardment, reassign it to the second squadron," to another. The centurions dutifully recorded his statements for those not in earshot, to make a better record of what went right - or how it all turned into an utter disaster. Either was possible, thought Ulf. At one crew, he paused, glancing at the centurions with nod. They stepped back for him to speak, and that took a moment in coming to pass, letting the engineer crouched on the ground in front of him finish adjusting a panel on the side of his charge's hull. "Veteranus Ironfist." Sveinn was too old and too long in the service to jump and be startled at the sudden address - Garlean commanders enjoyed their dramatic entrances, or if not enjoyed, performed them as if they were accustomed to the role. The engineer rose to his feet and, despite being half-stained in grease, offered a sharp salute. "Pilus." Ulf was glad he had chosen to wear his helmet today. It hid the wince. "Put down the wrench and clean yourself. I have orders here for your reassignment." One of the centurio stepped forward and offered a parchment. "You will be piloting one of the assault craft for this operation." Ironfist's brow furrowed. He had served his punishment at the Pilus' behest dutifully and without complaint, but had made no requests to pilot again in either man's recollection. "Sir?" "I believe I was clear, veteranus. See yourself to the First Assault within the bell. They'll have your orders." "Yes sir, only it's been some time since I've piloted an assault craft, and a boarding action - " "I said nothing about a boarding action." Again, Ulf was glad of his helmet. It hid the smile. "You are damned and determined to keep the people safe. This shall be your chance." The Lucky Lord "Sorry, Slae," said Hannah, her voice only a little raspy. She hadn't taken a fatal hit in the exchange, but if a shot puts enough shards of wood in a woman Half-Gil's age, even a woman in her shape, it's bound to have an effect. "Think I'll be sitting this one out." Slaeglac, seated in the one chair in her quarters that could be found among all the trinkets and charms Hannah left scattered around the room, offered only a nod. "No shame in that, miss. You've more'n done your part." Indeed she had, he mused, letting his hand drift to the sahagin-tooth necklace at his chest. Yesterday, The Lord had set off on its scouting mission early in the morning, and limped into Gloam's harbor well after the twelfth evening bell, sporting an injured crew, torn sails, a damaged hull, and a bleeding Captain Half-Gil, grinning broad and bright enough that her gold teeth glittered in the dark. The ship had come upon a Garlean cruiser in the afternoon and given battle. It had been a rough exchange from the look of things, but the Lord had gotten the best of the fight, and one Garlean vessel was even now making itself comfortable on the seabed of the Sound, settling in for a long and fruitful career as a sunken hulk. Sinking part of the reprisal force was more than enough of a feather in Half-Gil's cap, but she also seemed to have come back with intelligence, a picture of the incoming forces. Cruisers as screeners suggested some larger vessels, and Hannah, a veteran of raids in Garlean waters, supposed they were bringing a pair of their "big guns," heavy vessels with long-range ordnance. It was like the Garleans to seek to bomb from afar, after all. Hearing that, Slaeglac had laughed fit to burst. Fog had settled in on the Sound yesterday and seemed to have no intention of leaving. Their ability to sight would be limited to their own cruisers, and their ability would be limited. The circumstances were perfect for the Immersabilis to do its work. Slaeglac had yet to see the whale-ship in action; seeing it in action against Garlean vessels was, he was sure, going to be the high point of his day. "Well you rest, Hannah," he said, patting her on the shoulder that didn't have a bandage, closest to him where she rest in her bed. "Keep the Lord in the harbor. She'll float, yeah?" "Aye, she will." She pushed herself into a sitting position with some effort and a sharp grunt. "Captain - " "That's fine. Get those sails repaired and keep yer ship's boats ready in case we need to move out those what are still on shore in a hurry. You leave it to us, and - " "Captain, why'd y'want to hang?" The question took Slaeglac by surprise, but it looked as if Hannah had been chewing on it for a while. Her jaw was set and her stare unblinking, and her usual brassy cheer, present even in injury, was long gone. "Y'can't quit on people like that. It's givin' up th'game 'fore you've laid down yer hand." He ruminated, dragging his hand across his chin and the scars thereupon. In the circumstances, it deserved an answer. "No makin' yerself a legend, a'right? You've done enough of that," Hannah went on. "Not a damn soul here doesn't know that. Ye spit in the Garlean's eyes an' ye stood up for us, to quit where we please without their say-so. Y'don't need to kill yerself for that." Slaeglac snorted. "Hells, Hannah, makin' a legend's the last thing I want. It's the opposite. No big public hangin', no Slaeglac the Secessionist hangin' from the gallows. No legends. Just a quiet little death in a dark corner where nobody can watch. Think I could've swung that, if ye'll pardon the jest." "But why?" "Because, damn it, this is still my island, an' it shouldn't be," he said at last. "Goldie's tryin' as speaker, but people still talk t'me. I'm the one they settled on. This's the sort of thing starts Admiral's an' Emperors, Hannah. Treatin' legends as if they can fix everything on account've who they are. But tha's not free." He shook his head. "If I wanted a fleet, didn't need to split from Limsa to do this. Freedom, Hannah. Just one place, free from all that, from legends and heroes and saviors, their deeds tellin' y'what to do into th'next era. If I could hang, like, or disappear, then that'd be the thing for it, wouldn't it? Nothin' dramatical, just a fadin' off." Hannah stared at him. Despite his size and his stature, Slaeglac felt himself shrinking from Half-Gil's stare. "Yer daft," she said at last, and nothing more, as if that explained everything. Slaeglac could only chuckle as he rose, "Maybe so, but that's how I think," he said, crossing to the door. "Rest up, miss. There's more work yet." The door closed behind him, and Half-Gil found herself crossing her arms in irritation. The man gambled on everything. Pulled away the old salts of the privateering crew, trucked with Garleans, built his own island, turned the Garleans against themselves, and now he was running up against a Garlean force in front of a combined fleet of two nations. The only way he was walking away from that without some kind of legend, she thought, was if he failed.

Important Update: Because big setpieces like naval battles are large enough to accommodate many people, and because a number of players are going to want to be involved, I have decided to open the Assault event on Sunday to general participation. If you have a ship, a reason to be involved in Merchant, Marine by this point, and an understanding of the Fate-14 rules, you are invited. Because this will involve many different participants, I am requiring the following to make sure this runs smoothly: It is your responsibility to read the rules - both for Fate-14 2.0 Combat and the Ship rules, which can be found in the very first post of this thread. Know them as well as you can, as there will be very little time to introduce new players to the basics of the system. If you have questions or are confused, ask me before the event whenever possible. Groups will party together based on their attached ship. We will be using the Roll-Eorzea LS for OOC communication in the event as a whole. Each ship should designate someone - a captain or some other important person - as the caller for their ship. They will inform me what actions the ship is taking. For ease of play, initiative will be based on ships - each ship will take all of their actions at once in a round. The order in which your ship is taking actions on your turn can be decided amongst players, or taken simultaneously if turn order doesn't matter for you. IC communication between ships will be limited. Pay attention to the Signalling action in the ship rules: You will have to sacrifice an action to tell somebody else you're doing something. Please keep OOC downtime to a minimum. That means cutting back on excited chatter and "Hey I get that reference" moments. Rules questions are fine within reason, but again be sure you understand the basics. Here is the current list of ships I have attached to this event, as well as their associated players: Sultana's Revenge S'imba Tia Osric Melkire W'Chaza Yheli Aya Foxheart Iron Bitch Anstarra Silverain Jana Ridah Aigiarn Kha Stormbreaker Qara Hotgo Zanzan Yanzan Maric Thornharte Tumult Liadan Summerfield Leanne Delphium Gallien Vyese Virara Wakuwa Interested, But No Clear Ship Yet Those of you who still don't have a ship, feel free to speak to those who do to see if you can hitch a ride, or I can design a ship in the auxiliary fleet for you to use. Note that the Tumult and Stormbreaker are already at Gloam, so if you aren't there as well, getting on board isn't possible.

Updated to add: I also worry now that people think I am pretentious as a player, and then remember that they definitely do, and move along again.

We have a lot of players who have magitek mounts IC, largely because magitek keeps falling into the hands of FC companies for any number of reasons. There probably isn't an issue with it unless you're planning to make it several orders of magnitude better than an average mount.

Offices of Pilus Ulf Rem Hartsblood, The Firmitas, Sea of Jade “Retreat.” To the Architectus’ ears, Ulf didn’t seem to be fully aware of what he was saying, repeating Virgil’s own statements as if to try out the sound of them, as if the term was new and unfamiliar. Of course, this was false. The Pilus had been chosen because he understood the value of a judicious retreat, and because the Special Expeditionary Cohort was a delicate project. The standard Garlean doctrine of dominating the landscape and refusing to step back in the form of static defenses like the castri would not work for radically experimental weaponry like the Firmitas and Immersabilis. They had to be willing to assess the situation and fall back as circumstances demanded. And right now, the circumstances didn’t just demand, but hammered on the door, stood outside in protest, and stalked the pair of them to their quarters to leave threatening notes at their doors. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The Pilus was just such a man. Under his command, several fighting withdrawals that would otherwise have been routs turned into the preludes for successful counterattacks. He was brave, and attacked where it was necessary, but did not waste men needlessly. Surely, Virgil thought, the Pilus was not showing an idiot’s bravery in his confusion. Perhaps it was the funeral. His last security check on the Eorzean traitors had seen him returning home bearing the body of Upper Citizen Thunderfell and several small injuries of his own. He had foregone treatment in lieu of ordering an immediate burial at sea, with honors befitting a member of the Citizenry. He had not been quite the same the rest of the day. If the Architectus had to think of a similar circumstance, it would be when his first submersible prototype had not withstood pressure, caving in on itself and crushing its pilot. Such a waste of a vessel! Until he’d discovered the error in his calculations, he had been just like Ulf - clearly troubled, but putting up a professional face for the sake of the Empire. A proper response. This line of thinking made Virgil kinder than would ordinarily be the case. “Yes,” he said, repeating himself. “A retreat. Orders from the Viceroy. The buildup at the Wall is too great a risk, and the island will make an excellent point to project force and restrict the movements of Eorzean naval assets.” That was what the communique had said, anyway. “I see.” It wasn’t quite dark in the room, which Ulf had chosen to keep in poor lighting, only the dim glow of his table-lights illuminating him. Nor was it quite silent, the hum of the engines which kept the Firmitas afloat proving a constant, droning noise. In better circumstances, Virgil could ignore the noise, but now it seemed to stretch the silence between Ulf’s words from a long one to a vacuum without end. “And the islanders?” “Annexed, most likely, by the fleet arriving in force. Thanks to Thunderfell’s actions - Emperor guide her soul - they have all the infrastructure in place for a basic castrum, do they not?” Shelter, farms, industrial equipment. All designed to Garlean tastes, likely with only a few flourishes of the pirates’ own style to be removed. So Ulf’s reports had said to date. “They’ll make an excellent labor force, as well. Non-citizens, of course, but the Viceroy has been more than complimentary of their assistance.” The Pilus shifted his weight in his seat. He had not quite been looking at Virgil - not that the Architectus could tell in the dark, not completely - as if his eyes were somewhere as far off as his voice, his mind remaining only to check in with them on the events in the room. “They will likely resist.” Here, his voice helped him. It didn’t imply objection on those grounds. A mere statement of fact. Virgil could handle facts, if not insubordination. “Trivial,” he said, loftily. “Half a squadron of scattered pirate ships? Hardly a challenge. And your notes on the defenses are thorough correct?” Virgil lowered his head, regarding Pilus with his third eye. “Correct?” “...Correct.” Virgil relaxed. “Good. You’ve done very well for yourself, Pilus Hartsblood. We both have. The submersible is a proven tool for weakening Eorzean coastal defenses, and the Academy was always keen on the Firmitas. It will see deployment in an offensive role in the moons to come, I can assure you of that. Accolades and commendations for us both. And for Thunderfell,” he added, after the silence threatened to stretch again. “Falling in service to the Emperor is a rare gift for the Citizenry, you know. Especially at the hands of barbarians like that.” “Yes. I know.” Virgil leaned back in his seat, frowning. Perhaps the damage to Ulf had been worse than he’d thought. He had seemed well enough after the funeral, if muted, conferring with his officer corps below decks. He made a note to recommend the Pilus be watched upon their return to home waters, lest this was the beginning of grief turning into madness. Nothing that should have been cheering the Pilus was even rousing a smile, and he liked to think he knew the man well enough by now to know what would cause that, and that was hearing Yga would succeed. He abandoned his mental calculations, deciding that he had at least made the effort, and that was all any man could do in the Emperor’s service to care for his fellow soldier. As long as the Firmitas didn’t sink on the way home due to its commander’s negligence, all was well. He would not risk the Immersabilis while it remained docked that way. “Mm. Good. Well, then,” he began, rising from his seat and turning to the door. “Recall the gunships on observation. We will sail by nightfall.” “No.” Ignore it, thought Virgil, his hand near the door’s access panel. Ignore it. It was the petulant remark of a man stricken with grief. There was every reason to believe that it meant nothing, and that the Firmitas would be away from this Glim or whatever and back to true civilization in good time. Ignore it. Ignore it. It doesn’t matter. “Excuse me?” He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, daring the Pilus to speak again. Daring him to say anything other than “Yes, Architectus.” “No.” In the dark, Ulf sat upright in his chair, his hands below the desk. “The Firmitas will stay, and it will assist in the island’s defense. Please return to your quarters, Architectus.” Even in dim lighting, the crimson in Virgil’s face was impossible to miss. Nevertheless, he tried restraint. “Pilus Hartsblood, while I understand the desire to show the power of this vessel, the reinforcing fleet surely has it well in hand. The islanders will fall, and - “ The droning hum exploded. Well, it seemed to. A short, sharp k-krack of a noise and a flash of light from beneath Hartsblood’s desk. Something in the air vents? Maintenance ought to check on that. The lighting he couldn’t explain, but - The pain caught up to Virgil’s mind before he could take full sensory stock and convince himself that, truly, he hadn’t just been shot in the leg from the other side of the desk. A veteran of battles conducted at the academy and not on the field, he took it as well as could be expected - collapsing on the floor in a keening wail and clutching the injured foreleg in the vain hope of keeping too much blood from escaping. “Architectus, for your own safety, you will be confined to quarters.” Ulf rose, discarding his magitek bagnakh, a faint wisp of smoke trailing from its barrel and seeming all the brighter in his office. “My centurions will see to your comfort momentarily - this moment excepted,” he added, before pressing his hand to his ear. “As we planned,” he said. “Please confine any dissenters to quarters under guard. We will exchange them as prisoners at a later date.” There was more, Virgil was sure. The pilus - no, the traitor, he amended, wondered why he amended anything, then remembered to amend that this didn’t matter he was dying - would place his boot on his chest and torture him. Get everything he knew. He would stand as firm as he could. He had failed utterly in detecting this rank betrayal, but he would die honoring the secrets of the Emperor. But Ulf did not rise, and he did not place his boot on Virgil’s chest. He returned to his seat, and folded his hands together. “Now, Architectus,” he said, in the same far-off voice. “Tell me everything you can about Dagon. What it is. How it operates. Where to find it. And how to use it. Tell me all of this - “ “To hell with you, Hartsblood, to hell with you and every man on your - “ “Or I will load the Immersabilis with ceruleum and scuttle it,” finished Ulf. It was a very fast interrogation.

Scotch and authority. That sounds about right.

Another New Event Appears?! But First In a fit of cold sweat, W'Chaza Yheli realizes she has not actually made the overtures necessary to see if the Grand Marshal of the Maelstrom is receptive to a brokered peace with the colony of Gloam, and has now made an appointment to discuss the matter in greater detail with the long-distance assistance of adventurers on the island. Will the Grand Marshal be receptive? Will the Lieutenant make a compelling case for peace? Will the DM handle the pressure of running NPCs from the main storyline? Time: Saturday, March 4th, 7:00 PM CST 1. W'chaza Yheli 2. Leanne Delphium 3. Gallien Vyese

A New Event Appears! Comes the Storm [Travel Event, Ship Required] In a last-ditch attempt to bring the conflict between the people of Gloam and the Maelstrom to a bloodless end, the crew of the Stormbreaker set out to beat Commodore Haelstymm and his squadrons to the island, carrying with them a secure means of communication with the Admiral's second-in-command in hopes of brokering a peace between both sides. Time: Sunday, Mar 5th, 3 PM PST 1. Liadan Summerfield 2. Zanzan Yanzan 3. Qara Hotgo 4. Chakha Hotgo 5. Khunbish Arkhadim

I am removing Liadan, S'imba, and Osric from the Travel Event sign-up because they plan to use Turns. These slots are open for others, but will be available for the three of you if nobody else takes them.

It seems like many people are waiting on Act events first. Shall we set those up and proceed from there?

Section 6: Current Story Aspects: Ceruleum Shortage - There is still a dearth of magic crystal juice (the scientific term) on the Limsan markets. Prices have skyrocketed, and people with magitek appliances are having a hard time charging them. A New Patriotism - The population is still firmly rallied behind the notion of a unified Limsa Lominsa. There is an increasing sense that the compromise for liberty made by the Admiral did not go far enough amongst members of the populace and some elements of the miliary. Pirates, of course, have other ideas about this. Hawker's Alley Harmony Another supply of magitek appliances has arrived in Limsa Lominsa, apparently as prize booty from a successful raid on a Garlean supply ship in Ilsabard. Remembering what happened the last time, the Yellowjackets have confiscated the lot, and a flood of outraged petitions are on the adventurer's leve boards begging for help to make legal authorities see sense and release the products on the market. Time: Wednesday, March 8th, 8 PM CST 1. Chakha Hotgo 2. Maric Thornharte 3. Edda Eglantine 4. Ojene Suinuet Sail The Stable Seas In the wake of recent patriotic support, the Maelstrom is in the process of reviewing independent warships attached to privateers to see if any are worthy of being paid off and pressed into permanent service. Elements of 1st Squadron leadershp have their eye on a fine trade galleon that could easily be refitted as a warship. However, the vessel is regrettably registered with Gridania, and so the Maelstrom cannot easily press the ship into service. Negotiators are requested to discuss the matter with the ship's captain and determine a fair price to put the vessel to use where it really belongs. Time: Thursday, March 9thj, 8 PM CST 1. L'Rinhi Kett 2. Anstarra Silverain 3. 4. Tentative: Anstarra Silverain Floating Fortress Firmitas [Travel, Ship Required] After over a moon of preparation, elements of the 5th Squadron of the Crimson Fleet and the 9th Squadron of the old Armada are assembling for a joint strike on the breakaway colony of Gloam in the Rothlyht Sound, intent on driving away or destroying the Garlean presence in the Sea of Jade and bringing the defectors under the leadership of Slaeglac Doesbluomsyn to heel. Elements of the Black and War Sails of the auxiliary fleets are requested as fast scouts to track the location of the rumored Garlean "whale-ship," and to bombard and assault the island should the traitors refuse to surrender. "To all vessels of the joint fleet, Recent talks with the separatists have confirmed that the Garlean forces thereon have defected and pledged their allegiance to Eorzea. However, a larger Garlean fleet is en route from Ilsabard, intent on taking the island and creating a new Castrum. We are to intercept them northeast of the island and, with the combined forces of our fleet and the separatists, drive them out of the Sea of Jade. A formal treaty with the separatists is pending. Until that time, their fleet is to be treated as an allied force. Expect a combined fleet of auxiliary pirates and experimental Garlean weaponry -Grand Storm Marshal Slafyrsun" Note: Actions taken during the week may cause the goal of these events to change. Scouting Event: Saturday, Mar 11th, 8 PM CST 1. Zaius Rhal'seer 2. Osric Melkire 3. S'imba Tia 4. 5. Maybe: Aya Foxheart Assault Event: Sunday, Mar 12th, 7 PM CST 1. Zaius Rhal'seer 2. Tiergan Vashir 3. Liadan Summerfield 4. 5. Tentative: Jana Ridah General Turns: 3/20 Anstarra Silverain -Act (3 Players) Osric Melkire -Prepare x 2 Tengri Geneq -Investigate W'Chaza Yheli -Act (3 Players) -Prepare Zanzan Yanzan -Discussion -Act (5 Players) Gloam Turns: 3/6 Liadan Summerfield -Prepare Leanne Delphium -Prepare Gallien Vyese -Prepare

I roll dice and interpret the results in a manner that seems most interesting to me. That's probably informed by the character archetypes I prefer, but otherwise I try to keep it out of my hands.

This is why I say the argument is incoherent. It seems to be mixing up external reasons for the portrayal of rape - cultural assumptions regarding rape on the writers' part, discomfort on the part of the people doing the portrayal, assumptions about authorial intent, so on - with internal reasons for why the portrayal of rape is terrible. If you think the writing is poor, sure, no problem, but in addition to what you said H.H., it sounds like he's also asking why we don't see more men getting raped if society is really that equal. Now, this is a thread started by Seriphyn, which means it's probably time for his biannual troll thread about a blatantly sensitive subject. In which case we all have hooks in our mouths, and should probably remove them before this gets much further.