Verad

I think it's high time we took it back. Liadan, I love your character, she's so Mary Sue!

Setting aside the public airing of private grievances (in short, I agree with you), "Mary Sue" is such a broadly overused and misapplied term that I might as well get mad because somebody called me a hipster. It could mean anything.

No, I wouldn't. Why would I?

I am interested but Verad is very bad at being a Duskwight so he may lower the LS's property values.

Holding the event in Vesper Bay will kill Verad's soul for Reasons, but if that is the best place then that is the best place, especially if it can bring in La Noscean traffic. Next question is finding enough vendors. If you have a craftsperson who sells wares IC or know someone who does, and wants to sell their lower-quality work (the only stipulation here is that the items be dubious in some form, after all), plesae have them contact me in-game or through this thread.

She found it? Molesting?! The very ideas in combination sent an unpleasant shudder down Verad's spine, assuming that wasn't leftover damage from the collision making his nerves twinge. "Slander, madam!" he said as he pawed and clawed his way into an upright, if not quite all right, position, head wobbling uncertainly as he shook himself free from a rush of dizziness. "I spent several hours laying that trap. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to tie a rat up such that it makes a little bow?!" Indignant? Perhaps. But he'd gone to all that trouble. He'd even made the little signs. Could it have been the case that they were too effective, and nobody noticed that a trap had been there at all? He would praise his own cleverness later, and at great length. For now, he had a job to do, which would require, using appropriately delicate tactics, convincing Natalie to yield his quarry. And he was about to use them, until he got a good look at her fingers delving into its fleshy interior. "You can't just have your way with someone else's pudding and expect to walk away from it!" he said, abruptly and with a bit of sputtering, attempting to use the advantage of his greater height to swat the creature off the top of her head. --- The rat was a trusting sword, and as the bag was caught and drug along the street, unseen by at least one particularly incensed and oblivious Duskwight, the creature followed suit. It had thus far been given a nice fat piece of fruit and a few nuts and chocolates to feed upon; while other rats might have questioned the wisdom of dragging itself along whatever food-source happened to be found, this rat was doing quite all right by itself. And to think, his siblings had mocked him, thinking he would never come to anything? And here he was, and there they were, somewhere in a restaurant's interior squabbling over a thrown-away dish. Who was laughing now, hm?

Now who said it's going to be eaten? Granted, as Verad has mentioned, he did try to sell scoops of chilled pudding once, but that was clearly a failure. This time there is probably something more elaborate in the works.

Okay enough people have validated this thread's existence that I feel comfortable proceeding. Time, day, and location are concerns. Ideal times for me are Sunday evening or during the early part of the week before Thursday. Sunday would probably be most convenient for weekend players, ditto evenings. Considering this is a swap-meet, it would probably not be able to pay the necessary fees to the Monetarists to be held in Ul'dah itself. I am personally considering the Silver or Golden Bazaars (don't worry Limsa/Gridania, if I do this again I will next place it in your locales), but if anybody else has other suggestions I would happily take them. Perhaps there should be spaces for dedicated vendors like Jancis and then open spaces where anyone can sit and sell. Thoughts? And if so, who would like to be one of the aforementioned vendors?

I've been working on some small events with my FC - mostly plot and Rug-related stuff - but after some conversation with Aya I'm kicking around the idea of doing a larger event in the form of a swap-meet. The basics: 1. Arrive bearing junk. Gently or heavily-used, garbage or not, cursed or un-cursed. Nothing immediately and obviously life-threatening and no old foodstuffs. 2. Interact with other players. Share and exchange junk. Use your character's garbage to give other people plot opportunities. 3. Possibly also an artist's alley for characters who are novices at their particular talents, and where more advanced artists can offer them critiques 4. ??? 5. Verad profits somehow. Would people be interested in attending a meet-up like this? Right now I have it set up as one-time, but if interest turns out to be larger in scale I can expand that to include more frequent appearances.

You may not want to name it, knowing what Verad plans to do to it. It's like naming the pig you're about to turn into bacon.

Hang in there Zhavi. We'll talk when you get back.

Something for the rare occasion that Verad should be taken seriously: ZRBItl--TQM And for the rest of the time: OmOe27SJ3Yc

Hah, haven't seen this system in a while. Much preferred to Nature/Demeanor, really. Virtue: Charity Verad's business model is based on giving broken things a second chance. Bad artists, poor materials, and shoddy goods alike are all put in front of people in the hopes that they will see the value he sees. This attitude extends to people as often as to products. Vice: Pride Anybody who has spoken to Verad for long enough to hear him give one of his many titles is probably aware of this one. His arrogance and overestimation of his own abilities is the stuff of legend in and of itself. (You probably thought it would be Greed, didn't you? Not at his prices!)

As soon as Leanne clarified that she was not in fact the carrier of the custard, Verad's face fell. "Oh." Promptly letting go of her leg, he turned towards Natalie in a kind of shuffling crawl, never really leaving the ground, and, given the relatively close distance between Leanne and she, scrunched himself together in a way that would make a contortionist cringe, before managing to clutch at her pant leg in much the same manner. "Please, madam, that . . . pudding! I must have it. I have been hunting it for hours! Days! We - " He paused, unwilling to exaggerate that far. "For quite a long while at any rate! You simply must give it to me, I beg you."

Anyone who is so inclined may add me at dbwinthrop.

Funny things happened when disaster was imminent. Time started to slow down. People started to notice things that were slightly off. In such instances, these kind of observations could be the deciding factor between catastrophe and a near-miss. Verad was not one of those people. All he managed to notice was that Natalie seemed to have changed appearance and hairstyle, and that the pudding seemed to have teleported onto another head - a serious problem, but one with immense practical applications if harnessed - before colliding into Leanne face-first, skull-to-skull. There wasn't a resounding crack, because Verad's thickheadedness was merely metaphorical, but there was a definite thud of a sound as he collided with Leanne's temple, beard scraping her face as he slumped down onto the ground, prone and prostrated, stifling a groan. Even in his injured state, however, he was reaching up, clutching at Leanne's trousers as the mistaken identity continued. "Madam," he gasped, the pain blurring his vision while giving her an imploring look. "The pudding, please . . . I must have it . . . "

The swat of Natalie's hand only made Verad's dismayed look return, and both arms fell to his sides, hands still gripping outward and elbows bent as if he were trying to reach her waist. Perched on her head, the pudding wobbled and wibbled as she spoke, and Verad's eyes stayed fixed upon the beast rather than the Miqo'te on which it lay. He wasn't at all sure, but he was certain he had seen it smirk. It wasn't of a variety advanced enough to develop a face, but there it was, a single wrinkle in its otherwise gelatinous mass. Taunting him. As she turned to leave, he took two steps back. Surely, he thought to himself, there was a reasonable means of acquiring the creature with a minimum of fuss. One would not expect Verad, given his apparent age, to be capable of a leaping tackle, but there it was, the merchant flying through the air in an effort to snatch the pudding off of Natalie's head before she got far. Meanwhile, the rat awoke, stretched out, and meandered out of the trap, Verad's tying-up of the creature never actually having bound its legs together. It nibbled on one of the signs, which fell over, then approached Franz with an expectant look in its beady vermin eyes. There were nuts to be had, after all.

"Let us say," he remarked, continuing to speak only when he had finished chewing and swallowing the walnut, "That I have at least some experience with alternative and innovative uses for pudding." He frowned. "Even if Ul'dah's health regulators do not see it that way. Chilled scoops of bavarois in the summer seemed a fine treat for cooling down." As quick as he'd frowned, he'd brightened. "But it -did- prove, to myself and others, that such flesh makes an excellent purgative for use in antidotes. And what better way to harvest flesh than from a living subj-" This was the point at which a shadow passed he and Franz by. At the time, Verad did not give it very much thought. He was a second away from gesticulating in grand fashion and replying in greater detail when a sudden bit of movement out of the corner of his eye brought his attention back to the rope, the rat, and the pudding. At least one of those things was no longer visible under a pile of McBeef, and the rope hadn't disappeared, and the rat hadn't even interrupted its nap. The look of dismay upon his face was exaggerated by his beard. When Natalie arose, and actually walked towards them, he looked concerned - at least until he saw shifting and shimmering goo atop her forehead. "Well done, madam!" he replied, raising his hands up as if to clap, before stepping around the corner he'd been using as a hiding place to reach out for her forehead. "You must tell me how you effected such an effective capture."

Playing a jerk is fine, and if you do so I would highly recommend OOC communication when doing so with players you've never met before, to make sure they're okay with the behavior on an out-of-character level. Once you have some people you play with regularly, you can ease off on that; when you're new, it helps people see that you're an enthusiastic player who is running a jerk, and not a complete cipher. Most people like walk-ups. Be the person to walk-up. This means in addition to personality it helps to come up with a short "Reasons Why My Character Would Talk To Strangers" list you can use when you need to walk-up, but you don't have a prompt from the other character. I will not lie: If you are not an extrovert by nature, this will be terrifying at first. It will pass. I must respectfully disagree with the idea of having both strengths and weaknesses, mentioned below, but this is because of a matter of perspective rather than suggesting that your character should have no weaknesses. Rather, every strength is also a weakness in the right place and the right time, and vice-versa. Think less in terms of positives and negatives, and more in terms of "traits" - facets of the character's personality that could both help him and get him in trouble. Have goals. Short-term ones and long-term ones. These can be helpful prompts for walking-up. Write them down, and be ready to change them when they're fulfilled or negated. "Find a new pirate crew." "Search for the rat-bastard that killed my beloved pet carbuncle." "Acquire a rare item to impress that Miqo'te that's been giving me the side-eye." Things like that.

Verad almost spoke in his usual voice, simultaneously soft and booming, and looked about to weigh in as such, until he realized that doing so would likely spook the beast even further. "Valuable flesh," he whispered, dropping his pitch to something lower and giving the rope a slight shake as if to entice the creature further. The rat didn't seem to notice, continuing to snooze. "A buyer, you see. They were looking for pudding flesh as an ipecac, a purgative. Good for antidotes. And lacking the money to simply buy it without losing money on the sale, well." He shrugged, as if that explained everything. His attention was drawn as the pudding began to creep out of its hiding place, shuffling towards the its prey with much greater caution. "Such a noble beast, is it not? See how it glistens? That oily sheen, you know - they say it's different based on their locale. There's a certain grit to it you can't get anywhere but Ul'dah." He spoke with the reverential tone of a connoisseur, all while idly taking one of the walnuts from the man's hands and popping it into its mouth.

"Gah!" So intent had he been upon his quarry, watching it squadge and squnch closer and closer to the point of no return, that the man's query caught him completely off-guard. That meant a yelp and a half-jump off of the ground. Sadly, the man's intuition had proven correct, as, spooked, the pudding did as much of an about-face as a formless thing with no face can about, and slurried back towards the gutter. "Goodness," he replied, a little breathless, unoccupied hand to his chest before he smoothed down a newly-ruffled beard. "You startled me, my apologies." Peering towards the gutter, Verad was sure he could see a bit of gelatinous mass peeking out from the opening. The lure of free rat that was definitely not a trap was too strong. With this in mind, he did not hold his own surprise against the man, and settled down to wait. "It's not at all like fishing, you know. There's much more patience and you require a bit of dexterity to catch this horrible-smelling thing, and - " He spoke in similar hushed tones once he regained his composure, and then paused. "Well, I suppose it is like fishing after all. Except for the gutting."

Ul'dah was a city of byways and back roads, of shadows cast along cramped and narrow corridors while the sun shone bright upon its major streets, brilliant marble and white cobblestones contrasting with the dark and common rock. Pearl Lane was one-such place, and certainly a notorious one, but far from the only alley to be in such a state. It was in one of those nameless roads that Verad had lain his trap. He had surveyed the area with great care, and, having found a likely place to find his quarry - close to the backdoor of an Ala Mihgan cafe, not so close that it would be in competition with more common vermin - he had gone to great care to ensure that everything was in place. There would be no chance of escape once matters were set in motion. The following was plainly visible for all to see: In the middle of the road, there lay a rat. It did not move, in large part because it had been trussed up in the manner of a damsel in distress about to be thrown onto the Thanalan railways. Verad had been very particular in the tying, to the extent that the string which held the rat in place was finished off with a bow near its back. Lest an observer think this inordinately cruel - and Verad certainly did - the rat had been placated with a piece of old fruit within nibbling distance, upon which it was content to snack. Surrounding the rat was a circle of rope in the manner of a noose, knotted together and with a rope trailing conspicuously back to Verad's hiding position, around one corner of a wall that jutted out in a fit of Ul'dahn architecture's efforts to put angles on curves. Behind it, Verad waited, rope in hand and ready to pull. Near this rope were a series of small signs, propped up with sticks. In a simple Eorzean script, they read: "Free Rat!" "Come And Take It!" "Not A Trap." He wasn't certain that his quarry could read, but after the incident with the cactuars he wasn't taking any chances. With all pieces thusly in place, Verad waited. And waited. The rat grew fat on its offered refuse, and settled down to doze. Only then did he see the glistening, soft image of his quarry - a solitary pudding, small from an urban lifestyle lacking the large prey of its wilder cousins, creeping out from the gutters and tentatively squidging its way towards the ambush. "Come on," he whispered from his hiding position. "Come on now, take the bait."

Verad unabashedly prefers selling his wares to women. Experience has shown him that they are more likely to engage, either by asking about his products or by trying to figure out what he's doing. They're also much more likely to actually buy something, whether that be out of interest or pity. Men, on the other hand, have shown that they are much more willing to just brush him off or threaten to hurt him if he presses too hard. With a few exceptions, they have proven unreliable customers. If presented with two customers of differing genders and all other things being equal, Verad will pitch to the woman first. In other matters, Verad sees the sexes as being equal, but in matters of giving him money, he has his clear preferences.

"Realism" is generally not something with which I concern myself when it comes to choosing how experienced a character is. "Verisimilitude" or "Plausibility," the more-subjective younger-brothers of realism, don't come up as much either, given how widely audience expectations can vary in both counts. Generally, I do one of two things with my characters when I want them to have multiple skillsets: 1. Play them as old enough that Western roleplayers would find their knowledge of multiple skillsets to be plausible. A shame given the emphasis on youthful prodigies in these kinds of games, but the game itself isn't my audience. 2. Play them as incompetent enough that I can have them learn skillsets over the course of roleplay, rather than presume prior abilities. In both cases, my primary concern is audience expectations. It requires a bit of legwork at first to figure out what the general trends in an RP community are with regards to what is and isn't considered acceptable, but it yields better results for me than hewing to an outside standard of realism that may be challenged the instant I attempt to do something.

That explains why Verad did so well when it came to selling blank books and illustrated editions. But it also explains why nobody reads his memoirs. :C