Verad

Important Note Because the plot limitation I requested hasn't worked as well as I'd liked, I am lifting the restriction on being in no more than one other Fate storyline in order to join these events. Players should still have a sheet for the 2.0 rules, however.

There is no problem with pushing the plot's time back to 8 on my end. I shall make the necessary adjustments.

Episode 3: Customary Arrangements The merchant Yga Thunderfell is looking for assistance resolving a longstanding dispute with Limsan Port Authorities that has kept her cargo on lockdown in the harbor for a fortnight. She doesn't care if it's done quietly; adventurers of all skills welcome. Time: Wednesday, November 16th, 7 PM CST 1. Virara Wakuwa 2. Leanne Delphium 3. Jana Ridah 4. Big Buccaneering The privately-owned war galleon Night Plunder has dropped anchor in full view of Costa Del Sol's oceanfront scenery and refuses to move until their demands are met, threatening to harm tourism from the Ul'dahn elite and drive down beachfront property rates. Because war galleons are hard to replace, the Admiralty is looking for problem solvers who can negotiate their movement and/or kill the offenders as necessary. Note: Ship required. Private ships are available for hire in the event a player-owned ship is not available. Time: Saturday, November 19th, 8:00 PM CST 1. Aya Foxheart 2. Hihisa Hisa 3. S'imba Tia 4. Arcanimalfeasance The Arcanist's Guild has realized that evidence potentially critical to the high-profile case of the mutiny of the Maiden's Wound, entrusted to their care by the Yellowjackets, has gone missing from their stores. A painfully discreet notice indicates they are seeking adventurers to find the missing materials before this becomes public knowledge. Time: Friday, November 18th, 8:00 PM CST 1. Osric Melkire 2. 3. Lurial Vashir 4. Gallien Vyese New Story Aspect: Only Blood Can Mend The Wound - The events of the mutiny of the Maiden's Wound have sparked the imagination and ire of good Limsans throughout Vylbrand via a combination of rumors and sensationalism. They are keen to see the accused meet justice, and easier to provoke at the thought of the massacre accordingly. Unfortunately, this also means they're far less likely to see reason on the matter. Turns Available for Actions: 1/20 Turns Used: Osric Melkire: -Prepare, 1 Turn Hihisa Hisa: -Prepare x 2, 2 Turns Gallien Vyese: -Investigate, 2 Turns -Prepare x 2, 2 Turns S'imba Tia: -Prepare, 1 Turn Aya Foxheart: -Prepare x 3, 3 Turns W'Chaza: -Prepare, 1 Turn Act Event: Tuesday, November 22nd, 9 PM CST - 3 Turns -Lurial Vashir -Liadan Summerfield -Gallien Vyese Act Event: Saturday, November 26, 8 PM CST - 4 Turns Travel Event! No further actions permitted for participants: -Osric Melkire -Leanne Delphium -S'imba Tia -Gallien Vyese -Lurial Vashir -Virara Wakuwa

Report from The Harbour Herald, 7th Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon Mend the Wound is the Cry arising in the streets of Limsa Lominsa as the publick anticipates the trial of admitted Mutineer Dominic Morris. Our Readership will remember the tragic grounding of the loyal Privateer Maiden's Wound upon the Strand of Salt in the last moon, and the sorry state in which soldiers of the Maelstrom found the vessel, its captain and crew slaughtered in a vile assault leaving but two survivors, the accused Morris among them. Of his guilt there is no doubt, as he has admitted his crime upon his rescue and thrown himself upon the good Mercy of the Admiral, so say the soldiers who took him into gaol. Already the good people of Vylbrand have tried sorely to bring their own Justice to the mutineer, though he was spirited away to holding in Aleport under heavy guard. They now content themselves with the knowledge that the Courts of the Admiralty will bring the blackguard to his proper hell. Still the cry of Mend the Wound arises in the streets, that our leaders will know where the people stand. As to the matter of the other survivor, we at the Herald have continued to withhold her identity for discretion's sake after the immense cruelties inflicted on her person during the bloody voyage. The people of Limsa may rest assured that she is safe and under better circumstances than her Captor, and that even now the Admiralty seeks a means to take her oath and testimony in the coming Trials with every regard to respecting her decency and character. A woodcut of the accused, Dominic Morris, accompanies the report. The image is of a grotesque Hyuran face, slightly malformed, with jutting teeth, a lazy eye, and a scattered half-beard.

The Halberd, Flagship of the 9th Squadron, Sea of Jade “Word of the Dodo’s Wail?” Commander Haelstyrmm was a man much fixated on his food, and he asked the question without glancing up from its preparations. While his supper fare was a task he entrusted to the galley, the breaking of his fast was his own doman. A particular sort, he made a point of ensuring that each piece of ship’s biscuit was carefully toasted, the bread turning black over a plate heated by fire crystals he brought specifically onto his ships. While it was a more common thing to soak tack in order to soften it, Haelstyrmm was of a mind to ensure that his morning meal was hard enough to crack an adamantoise shell. He watched the slow process of charring with an expression of intense interest, eyes not so much staring as fixed in place, light grey hands folded together at the edge of the small desk in his quarters and lit with the faintest orange hue as the crystals expunged their aether. Torrael had long since given up trying to understand the process. Haelstyrmm was a man of peculiarities, but that was no surprise. Former pirates had their quirks. Executioners, moreso. “Aye, sir. Came in over pearl from the Bulwark Hall last evening.” She was hoping for a brief report and a return to duty. A staff officer ought to have attended to the commander’s needs rather than the ship’s captain, but he had long since dismissed his aide, preferring to rely on the captain herself for day-to-day reports. “My means to the men,” he called her. Something to do with preferring to be not to be too remote, perhaps. Again, quirks. She’d heard passing rumors that the commander of the 8th squadron believed himself to be pregnant with an aurochs. Compared to that, a bit of paperwork was a mild fate. “Was any reason given?” Haelstyrmm wiped a bit of sweat away from a balding pate, his hair having long since succumbed to time and age save for the patch of it around his ears and the back of his neck and the graying strip around his chin.. It was a cool day with a good wind and just enough gloom in the sky to keep away Azeyma’s touch, but as close to the heat as he was, some perspiration was inevitable. He made no effort to lean away from the toaster. “Surely, it is not some mere status report.” “The request was vague, sir. Transcriber said it had much to do with a possible defection, but the source was suspect and wanted to confirm.” At the word “defection,” Torrael edged back a step, and lowered her head such that the bangs of her dark blue hair fell into her eyes enough to shield herself from the light of the plate and Haelstyrmm’s undivided attention. “Defection? From the Wail? Surely not. Captain Aerstbhar is a good and loyal privateer with a long service.” Reaching for a set of small iron tongs, at his desk, he removed his plate from the crystals as the last of their aether died away, the two biscuits he afforded himself now more closely resembling a choice piece of coke stolen from a kobold’s furnace than a meal. “Nevertheless, we must a’course - pardon, of course retain order. A defection is a serious matter.” “Aye, sir. Anticipating your order, I’ve sent word to the other vessels to seek out the Wail’s colors and report back with any recorded sightings.” She straightened her back, taking care not to look too far down her nose at the commander - a difficult thing for Torrael, given the length of it, and the width and flatness of its bridge. “I expect reports within the bell.” That should very well have been the end of it - a return to her post and to the business of manning the ship. “Well-anticipated, Captain.” Haelstyrmm plucked a piece of char from his plate, far too soon for it to have cooled. He did not seem to react. Torrael presumed his callouses were as thick as any other sailor’s, especially one who had risen through piratical ranks. “A terrible business. If there truly is a defection, well then.” Whatever the rest of his point, he did not make it, placing the biscuit between his teeth and biting down. The crack was sharp enough to pass for a pistol’s report. He swallowed. “Now, about this week’s muster for discipline?” Damn. Torrael kept her fists unclenched, though she gripped the side of her uniform sleeve’s collar in one hand. “Aye, sir. But one name. Forecastleman Eynabyl. Twelve lashes for striking an officer about the face.” The commander seemed surprised, furrowing his brow and pursing his lips. “Just about the face? Surely, twelve lashes is o’er - overmuch.” “A repeated assault, ser. In truth we should hold him until Vylbrand to convene a martial, but it was too blunt a thing - some argument about the quality of his sister between one of the Storm Sergeants and he.” The captain scowled, her lips seeming to stretch and fold into the set of scars along the side of her cheek. “Hyurs, captain. Asking the wrong kinds of question about Sea Wolves.” “Ah, you support the forecastleman’s actions.” Haelstyrmm allowed a teasing smirk. Torrael, against her better judgment, allowed herself to relax, and unclenched her sleeve. “It was a rude set of things he said, sir. Still, we’re pirates no more. Have to set an example.” “Very true. We cannot afford a loss of order, especially if we seek mutineers.” Picking up his second biscuit, Haelstyrmm rolled the morsel between his fingers, leaving a little char on his flesh. “Six lashes, I think. More than fair.” Here it was, Torrael thought. That momentary note of hope which was, on occasion, rewarded. “Just six, sir?” “Yes, Captain. I shall be sure to wield the lash myself.” He set the biscuit between his teeth and bit, issuing another sharp crack. He swallowed once again. “Dismissed, Captain.” Saluting with enough sharp attention to please him, Torrael left the commander’s quarters, making a note to notify the ship’s doctor to be ready before the discipline muster.

This sounds perfectly reasonable. All you have to do is make the transition a part of the RP itself. It provides hooks for your character learning to fight, using contacts he may have picked up from journalism to shift over to mercenary work, and figuring out how to break into the business with comparatively little experience. None of the above are obstacles - they're opportunities.

An Island in the Sea of Jade The captain was a good man for a handshake. There were a number of sailors, Sea Wolves in particular, with a tendency to treat any act of greeting as a test of strength. All well and good for the average roegadyn crewman, but the small and slight races among the ranks could find themselves with sprained wrists or worse. Not so Slaeglac; when he clasped Balther Wright’s hand in his own, it was just firm enough to avoid harming an old sailor infirm enough that it could do him serious harm. The relief in Balther’s face at this gesture was evident to the captain, or mayhaps that was relief at finding his destination at last. Slaeglac was happy for it in either case. “Damn good to see you again, you old sw - “ He paused, noting the children behind the man. Balther’s daughter by marriage and his grandchildren had come for the trip. “Well,” he finished. “It’s damn good to see you. Not too troublesome a trip?” Balther smiled and shook his head, patting at a nearly-bald pate to keep the wind from tousling what hair remained. He had to crane his neck to look up at Slaeglac, which was fine for both of them. The captain was never one to stoop. “Passage was fine, ser. Ship’s boat met me where you said, smooth enough once I was off the merchantman. Departure, though - “ He lowered his voice. “Iyrnent didn’t let me go easy, you know. Had the Sisters looking about along with him. Had to smuggle out of Aleport.” “Blasted fool.” Slaeglac pinched the bridge of his nose. “His father’s man in all the wrong way.” It had been a risk, giving the captain of the Warbull the means to reach him, but he’d known Balther to be a stout sailor who’d see sense. Giving the quartermaster his own means was insurance. “You took it back from him, then, along with yours?” For a slight moment, Balther flinched, flicked his eyes back to his family; the daughter minding the children and giving Slaeglac a hopeful smile. What tales had Wright told her? She had the look as if the captain was a savior. He frowned. “Well, we’ll talk about it anon. Let’s get the lot of you settled. Beach is only a small sight to see,” He gestured out to the island’s harbor, where the Tumult kept watch, now joined by the smaller profile of the Dodo’s Wail. “And you’ve seen ships enough to last you a lifetime. Come have a look at the interior.” It wasn’t more than a tenth of a bell to reach inland. Yalms out from the grass the treeline rose, a small section of it cut away by the work of the crews. Men and women of the Tumult and the Wail labored over clearing land, taking down timber, and setting up houses, the latter stopping Balther in his tracks. “A strange make, those,” he said, his voice an unanswered question. Slaeglac’s laugh startled a nearby topman-turned ploughman. “Aye, strange indeed. Damn sight better for keeping out the damp and the chill than a tent, I’ll tell you that. You’ll adjust. As y’see, we’re settin’ up nice - a bit too late in the year for the land to do much more’n lay fallow, I’m told, but we’ll have it ready for crops come the end of the cycle. Better to be prepared than not, aye?” “Food’s coming in from abroad?” Directing Wright’s attention to the plowed land set him to work. Slaeglac could already see the old quartermaster running figures in his head, pursing his lip as he tallied the land and the possible yield to the people present. “Aye, that and our own fishing. A few moons and we’ll be self-sufficient. And funds’ll be no problem - Oi! Sawyer, get over here!” Slaeglac waved down his mate, not quite struggling under a yard’s length of wrought steel. “This here’s Everard Sawyer, our man in charge of the funds.” Everard wiped sweat from his brow, red hair long and stringy likely from the same, and offered a weary salute. “Sir?” “This here’s Balther Wright, fella I told you about. Best quartermaster in the Levies, here with family.” He slapped Blather on the back, a gesture in which he was closer to a normal Sea Wolf than he was for handshakes. “He’ll be taking the lay of the place ‘fore he decides what to take on. How’s your work going? Need more hands?” “No, sir, all the hands are fine, though they’re chafing at the forbidding of spirits near the equipment. Sailors and their drink, and all. The pay is enough to maintain order. There is some difficulty with the density of the ground, but I believe it will only lead to delays rather than ruined equipment.” “Good lad, Sawyer. Carry on.” The captain waved his hand in a lazy dismissal, moving on to leave Everard to his labors. “They still call you captain?” Balther asked. Slaeglac grimaced. “Aye. Once we’re up and running proper I expect we’ll ‘ave to change that. Heard good word from another three ships, an’ if this is all to work we can’t have people fighting over pride of place.” He shook his head, pausing to trace his fingers on his sahagin’s tooth necklace. “But no sense with worrying you when you just got here! Let’s get you and yours settled, and see where you’d like to pitch in. Be a treat to have you tallying the numbers like the old days, but if that’s not your choice I understand.” He seemed to remember something. “Ah, and you have the crystals? Yours and Iyrnent’s?” “Mine, yes. The other . . . “ Balther fidgeted, seemed to shrink in on himself. The captain hardly knew his exact age, but whatever it was he seemed to have gained ten cycles. “I gave it away. I’m sorry.” “Away.” Slaeglac clicked his tongue, looking back out to the sea. He said nothing, letting the noise of construction and the odd cursing of a sailor fill in for him. At last, he shrugged. “Risk I took with this setup, really. Was it Maelstrom? One of the Sisters?” “No, sir, neither! Man who helped me get out of Vylbrand. I thought he’d do well here.” The captain exhaled. “Well, no harm in it now I suppose. What’s done is done. With any luck, he’ll come to us.”

There have been at least three occasions where I designed a boss that I thought would be a tough fight for the players and considered easing up on them. Every single time they curbstomped the poor thing and walked away from it thinking it wasn't a threat in the slightest. This goes all the way back to my very first Fate-14 plot Scales, where the group killed an aevis so quickly they had to sit around and wait for the other group involved in the plot to finish up for like an hour. At this point I have given up on trying to create a tough challenge and just make things that can hurt players in odd ways to throw them off.

So a couple of nights ago I ran a Halloween haunted mansion event for some of my Fate-14 players. They found themselves dealing with the spirits of a fallen Ishgardian house that had a very serious and, to anyone who has played the MSQ, wrongheaded approach to rooting out heresy - they would secretly feed captive Ishgardian commoners dragon's blood to test their purity and then kill the resulting dragon as proof of their sin. When the ghostly head of the house explained all of this to the players, I had to immediately inform them OOC that trying to correct the ghost if they were playing their characters as knowledgeable about the events of the MSQ would have been unwise, because they would have instantly said "That's not how dragon's blood works, dipshit" (paraphrasing here), and probably gotten themselves stuck in a tough fight with limited resources. After all, why would a centuries-dead ghost know that Ishgardians at large all had draconic heritage? And why would a ghost - a being stuck in its ways - care about that kind of thing if it were told to them, and not dismiss it as lies? Now I freely admit I metagamed this for their own safety, but that's not the point of the post. The speed with which the players were about to correct the NPC as to the "right" lore and stick their feet in their mouths, coupled with the recent discussion on Au Ra origins from a few weeks ago, has had me thinking about how frequently we position our characters as generally being correct about the setting. This has nothing to do with subjective character opinions like politics or discriminatory attitudes, but more to do with how we don't like our characters to be wrong about the "bones" of the setting. When it comes to how the various magic systems work, or the history of the setting, or how to make magitek function, characters either don't know how to do it and admit as such, or they know the facts and know them in correct and proper fashion. We may have racists in-game, but we tend not to have Flat Earthers. So to dispel that notion for myself because RP is a wide and varied place, I'm putting these questions to all of you: 1.What do your characters believe that you know, OOC, to be fundamentally incorrect about the setting? 2.How do you address people trying to "correct" your character about these misconceptions, especially if it's very important to your character concept? And how often does it happen?

Reminder that despite a number of This Game's Connection Turned to Turds-related issues, Defection Protection is still ready for tonight at 7:30 CST. Current Turn Count: 0 Turns used since last update: Leanne Delphium Investigation: 2 Turns Liadan Summerfield Investigation: 2 Turns

Due to recent connection troubles, I'm unable to reliably log into FF14 without getting an error 9002. As such, I have to postpone The Rice Was All Between to Tuesday, November 1st, 8:30 PM CST. Please let me know if this changes your ability to participate.

List updated. Also added an extra slot since Verad is a glorified NPC for this one.

I will gladly sell you pre-relics which do not yet have historical value but function well for speculative purposes. you can also rummage around the miscellaneous section of the inventory; there is usually some kind of world-ending ancient device in there somewhere.

If the description did not make this clear enough, this one will not be novice friendly.

The Haunting of Halone's House Verad Bellveil has been quietly and not-so-quietly assembling enough materials to claim that he deserves the title of the last heir of the Ishgardian minor house Deauxbois. After receiving his claim, the Genealogical Investigation and Restitution Committee of the House of Commons has agreed to consider it. As the last known member of House Deauxbois was slain when the family was eliminated under suspicious circumstances, the Committee has asked him to prove his claim by communing with the spirits of the lost house, thought cast out of Halone's halls, at the ruins of what once was their former estate in Foundation during All Saint's Wake. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Verad wants some heavily armed friends of his along anyway. Time: Sunday, October 30th, 8:00 PM CST 1. Verad Bellveil 2. Jana Ridah 3. Leanne Delphium 4. Orrin Halgren 5. Aya Foxheart 6.

Offices of the Genealogical Investigation and Restitution Committee, House of Commons, Ishgard: Chaitivelle was used to the smell of brandy, liberally applied in great quantities, emanating from the region of Launval's desk in the committee offices. He had always been known as a tippler among the Crozier's gossipmongers, and though she had never seen it herself, naught but a moon was required for her to see the engraver-turned-assayer of Ishgardian futures lived up to his reputation. What was unusual, she thought as she settled into a desk arranged just so, blotter perfectly aligned and quill resting in its inkpot at just the right angle to appear jaunty without being thought impertinent by a member of the Lords come by to browbeat his supposed inferiors, was for the smell to be so obvious so early in the day. That, and for it to be accompanied by groans of despair and anguish not unlike several of the more sanguine mummeries she had witnessed in the Brume, all while Launval lay draped in his chair as if his suicide was a truly forgone conclusion, despite his body had found a way to trap his soul and keep it out of Halone's halls. Yet there he was, and there was his bottle, already half-full, and there was his glass, half-full as well. She ignored the obvious existential crisis for as long as she could manage. Chaitivelle checked her post, politely responded to a letter from a member of her district asking about rising tax rates, warmly replied to a crude scrawl from a Brume urchin asking if he too could be a Commons someday that of course he could, and reviewed a proposal from a Convictory knight asking if a severed dragon's head was not proof enough of nobility to be considered for application (not when any such head had yet to be produced, she decided, after two moons of requests for the trophy in question) before pausing for morning tea. Then, and only then, while the yak milk was not yet boiling in its pot, did she ask, in the gentle manner of someone inquiring about the man's family for idle conversation, "Why, representative Launval, whatever is the matter?" A set of parchments was not so much tossed as sprayed at her, as if Launval sought to obfuscate his exit in the manner of a frightened wavekin. Yet through the brief flurry of paper, he remained, waiting for Chaitivelle to snatch some of the papers out of the air lest they land too close to the stove. "That, good madam. That right there. Such an application as we have received this morning shall be the end of us, and yet I cannot ignore it." His position in his chair shifted from supine to crouched, curling up into as much of a ball as his desk would allow. "Surely it cannot be as bad as all that," remarked Chaitivelle, her words interspersed with the crackle of paper caught from the air before it caught flame. It was another Brume bastard, no doubt, taking the opportunity of the war's end to reclaim his due from the father, mother, or whomever who denied him. Common enough, and often enough a claim with such merit as bore serious consideration. Yet every such request that had crossed their desks had led Launval to fits of apoplexy before they were even sure if it was worthy of placing it before the Houses. And yet he had come highly recommended by Lords who had helped create the committee. There were several thoughts Chaitivelle had about that, and she had yet to determine which of them were true. Setting the matter aside, she found the application's first page and settled in to read. At least a skim before the milk developed skin would be no imposition. Time passed. The milk congealed, and only a mournful blorp of a sound as it boiled reminded her it existed. One of her hands curled up into a ball around the papers. "An Ul'dahn?!" "Aye, madam representative." "Do - Is there even such a thing as an elezen in Ul'dah? I had thought it all those small popoto-shaped people and Hyur." "Apparently it is so, madam representative." Casting a glance at the spoiled tea, Chaitivelle's eyes, already prone to squint, narrowed further. She cast out the milk from its pot with a frustrated huff and stepped aside from the stove, kneeling down to pick up the papers that had reached the floor. "Surely this is some mummer's farce. Surely, Launval." Hair fell into her face as she bent low, and she had to pause to shake it out of her head. "Why not simply deny it? The man is foreign, if he even exists. Were he Gridanian I might see fit to give it consideration, but this!" When Launval spoke, it was a mumble. He had contrived to place his head between his knees while keeping the former at the level of his desk. Chaitivelle grimaced and swatted him at the side with her papers. "Do compose yourself!" "Madam, would that I could cast this aside, yet if you will read, his research is quite thorough." He spoke after unbending himself and twisting his face to rest on his desk. "He traces his line back to a dead house, cast out after that . . . whatever it was." He waved his hand. "Where the forest decided to stop eating its inhabitants." "Still a rather absurd claim, is it not? Naught of any house gone that long remains, taken up by those who carried on." Returning to her seat, Chaitivelle set about sorting the papers, arranging them and carefully smoothing out any unnecessary wrinkles. "What house, pray?" "Deauxbois, madam representative." Her hand paused on at the corner of one sheet. "Mayhaps I do not quite recall. Were they not cast out for putting their own servants to the sword to the last man?" "Nay, madam. That was how they earned the title. Heretics, every one of their kitchen staff, or so the records claimed. The casting out is on the tenth page." Finding the indicated page, she read further. "Oh." There was silence. "Oh." She continued reading. Launval pressed his brandy bottle to the edge of his desk, within reach of her hand. She accepted it without complaint. Her teacup sufficed. "It is thorough," she said once she had poured herself a pair of fingers. "Not impossible for a bastard to have survived all that." "Aye, it is." Launval finished the last of his glass. "And yet." And yet. And yet allowing it would mean allowing foreigners to claim titles. It meant little that this applicant wanted nothing more than acknowledgement and the title for himself, forswearing even the chance of a seat in the houses. There would be others, all vying for wealth and land in a realm now so cold there was little of both to spare. And yet it would mean risking swelling the ranks of the Lords and filling their coffers with foreign coin rather than the honest folks of the Foundation and the Brume. And yet, it would mean one day, some waddling little popoto requiring a stool as he stood before the two houses and declared their shared lineage. The thought of it made her teacup shake in her hand. And yet for all that, it was thorough. "A test," she said, the thought not so much unbidden as desperately sought within the less-organized corners of her mind. "Hm? A test." She held up the one paper. "It could all be naught but mummery and fabrication. A test is the thing, surely." Launval groped in feeble fashion for his brandy until it was returned to him. "What could be tested?" he asked after foregoing the decency of his glass and tippling from the bottle. "His claims are paper, not blood." "Mayhaps...in most cases." Chaitivelle tried to smile. "But this merchant claims to be Deauxbois, and their claims are steeped in blood. Do you suppose he can handle overmuch?"

Current Turn Count: 4 Remaining Turns and Actions Used So Far: Aigiarn Kha -Investigate: 2 Turns Leanne Delphium -Investigate: 2 Turns Osric Melkire -Investigate: 2 Turns Note the information above is not to be used for any form of metagaming. I ask that players be respectful of the pool of remaining actions and avoiding taking too many actions for themselves, especially with a limited action count in this first usage of the system.

Pretty much anything involving sympathetic magic is good for this. The frequent use of various forms of blood suggests that it's a possibility. Y'shtola's resurrection also involves a form of sympathetic magic by relying on an object close to her - her sister - in order to create a link with her spirit in the aether. The tools and trappings for a more shamanistic interpretation of sympathetic magic are all there, between the use of common elements like those mentioned above and the presence of shamanistic traditions like the Mamool Ja and Vundu. All it would take is a character interested in applying one of the magic-wielding classes through that particular lens for it to happen.

Right or not, it's an interesting theology that a character could believe, and could lead to good plots. I think we're often quite hung up on making sure our characters are "theologically correct" - that they automatically know and believe the metaphysical rules of the world to be true. Believing alternate theories that also fit the evidence the world provides doesn't come up all that much, perhaps out of a fear of our characters being perceived as crackpots. As such, you should hang onto this idea not as "This is the truth of the setting" but as "This is what my character thinks is the truth of the setting," and watch people launch themselves at you in RP to explain why your character is wrong. That's conflict, and it's fun. Just be wary of people who then go OOC to say "Um but ACTUALLY you know your character is wrong, right? =)" in tells. Beware these sorts.

So this is belated, but I said I wanted to give more robust comments on this and I shall. I think this is a really good setup for FCs that want to manage exactly how much and what their companies can do without necessarily having to worry about having a complicated system. While you refer to the Fate system at several points in the rules, it functions well as a setting-neutral piece, so players could use standard /random resolution. Related to that, I note that you're using Fudge Dice symbols to show results in the charts, but I don't think that's necessary in the setting-neutral circumstances. A simple 1d3 will suffice just as well, and will be more easily understood by more players. That's just an editing criticism rather than a content one. I think the actual possible results from that d3 are quite well balanced. I love the Turn system, and I'm using a version modified for my own needs in my current storyline. In that one I've made events particularly costly just to manage strain on my psyche, but have also provided more and cheaper possible uses of Turns to help regulate the amount of actions players take in their downtime. I'll let you know how it turns out!

DAYS TURN BY Forewarned is forearmed, and preparation is an important part of any adventurer's long-term survival. However, there's only so much time in a day to find out important information before going into an event. Even the most powerful magician, richest Monetarist, and strongest warrior has to contend with the rise and fall of the sun. To represent the issue of limited time in a storyline between events, a modified version of the Turn system from the Guild-Fate (or Seasons) FC management system, by Halren Rhalsgard, will be used to limit the amount of actions players can take between events. Actions will be broken down into one of three categories, with a different turn value for each: Prepare Cost: 1 Turn Prepare actions involve single characters gaining advantages to improve their own chances of success. These actions are performed on their own time, and often require little personal investment on the characters' part. Common Prepare actions include looking for/making new equipment, getting consequences healed, hiring help for a future event, or in the case of ship-based events repairing damages and replacing crew. Research/Investigate Cost: 2 Turns Some actions take a lengthier time commitment because they require the character to spend a lot of time reading books, talking to old contacts, or piecing together clues. Attempts to take actions involving the Lore, Investigate, and Contacts skills in particular are considered research actions. However, these actions can often yield information and results critical to resolving a plot. In general, actions that take suggest a long period of time to work like the skills above indicate a Research/Investigate. Actions that require multiple different skills to work are also candidates. It's possible for a simple Prepare action to become a Research/Investigate as the situation becomes more complicated. Discussion Cost: 2 Turns Getting together to pool information with other players requires some organization and time spent gathering everyone in one place, in addition to the actual RP scene itself. No rolls are needed for a Discussion. Discussions indicate fairly large gatherings of characters, at least four or more. If you need to coordinate everyone's schedules OOC, it's a Discussion. No rolls are necessary. Act Cost: 3/4 Turns Why wait for the DM to come up with events all the time? This is supposed to be a proactive system, and you're adventurers! You don't always have time to wait for other people to cause problems for you to solve. Get out there and cause problems of your own! Acting indicates that you want to organize an event outside of the usual list that come with sign ups. The cost varies based on the size of the event. Small events with no more than three players cost 3 Turns. Larger ones that would be the size of a normal event, up to four to six players, cost 4 turns. Make sure everybody's schedules are clear for this - especially the DM! Restrictions There are only a few restrictions on being able to use Turns to prepare outside of events, as follows: Characters who have signed up for events marked as TRAVEL events cannot perform actions - they are too busy getting to the event itself. There are only a limited number of Turns to be used in each round, collectively shared between all members of the plot. Turn usage will be tracked in the sign-up thread, but once they're gone, you're out of time. Turns do not guarantee success - they give you a chance at success. Current Turns For Merchant, Marine, Round 2: 10

There should be enough warm-up time that Klyn would be able to arrive, yes.

Episode 2: The Rice Was All Between A fishing boat straying into the Sea of Ash reported an emergency distress beacon from a merchantman in the distance, and have returned to report the situation and their general location. Their claims seem to indicate that the ship is of Garlean make, but has run its colors. Relief vessels are requested to identify the nature of the problem and provide assistance or subdue and capture the ship as necessary. Time: Thursday, October 27th, 8:30 CST 1. Leanne Delphium 2. S'imba Tia 3. Osric Melkire 4. Kanaria Melkire Note: Ship required. A Limsan merchantman is available for use in the event of all characters having no personal vessels of their own. An Impartial Martial A notice posted at several Maelstrom locations: Officers not currently busy with training or other duties, report to the Marauder's Guild at the 21st bell to convene a court martial in regards to crimes committed while on official duty. Judgement according to Maelstrom naval code requires “adequate officer presence” for correct procedure to be followed. Signed: Captain Holskstymm Faezsyng A notice posted at leve counters and adventure hubs: Maelstrom officers seeking legal counsel for the business of court martial to convene in the Marauder's Guild at the 2st bell for crimes against the Maelstrom and the high seas. For assistance adhering to proper legal code, counsel sought from learned individuals. Time: October 27th, 9:00 PM CST 1. Bartu Bolir 2. Aya Foxheart 3. 4. Note: Please contact Nihka Mioni for questions related to this event. Wooden Ships and Iron Men Due to recent problems with piracy and Garleans, Maelstrom Captain Yiyisun Yisun, in conjunction with the independent brigantine "Rhalgr's Reward," will be hosting free tactical combat training for independent merchantmen and Grand Company ships alike. It is the hope of the Admiralty that with civilian ships trained in self defense that the waters around Vylbrand will become safer for all shipping traffic. This training will include the basics of naval combat including gun drills, maneuvering, boarding actions and ramming techniques. Time: October 28th: 8:00 PM CST 1. Zanzan Yanzan 2. Virara Wakuwa 3. 4. Note: Contact Spahro Llorn/Xanadu Mol for details. This event is good for anyone who wants to learn how to use the ship rules; a ship will be provided accordingly for novices. Defection Protection Following the recovery of survivors from the wreck of the Maiden's Wound, it has become clear that the ship went off course throughan especially savage mutiny, of which one of the survivors has declared himself to be a key conspirator. The brutality of the mutiny has roused the ire of good Limsan folk, as well as the interest of the Dutiful Sisters, intent on dispensing their own justice. The Yellowjackets are requesting adventurers to help provide security during the transport of the prisoners from temporary holding cells in the Moraby Drydocks to a more secure location in Limsa Lominsa, pending investigation of the wreck and the convening of a formal court martial. Time: Saturday, October 29th, 7:30 CST 1. Liadan Summerfield 2. Gallien Vyese 3. Klynzahr Ihyrnactwyn 4. Tiergan Vashir

Unfortunately, only lectures. I'll pester some of my professors sometime. Chances are it won't be stated as plainly as that, since the media industry is allergic to simplifying terminology, and because they expect everyone to "just know." Mise-en-Scène is an example of that. Everyone "knows" what it is, but no one can agree on a solid portrayal for it. Keep me posted. I'm interested, but some of how you're describing portrayal makes it sound like a culturally received idea - something everyone "knows" as you say - rather than something inherent in the text. That kind of theory isn't my exact field so I'd like to know more before I go jumping to conclusions.

Any specific texts you can recommend that refer to this arrangement?