Askier

-enters with optimism- Used too anxious and nervious. Sure did. Always worried my posts weren't long enough or my.concepts were stupid. And I suffer from a medical diagnosis that prevents me from spelling correctly because how my brain handles letters. If you have rped with me, you know what I'm mentioning. But, now? There I simply don't care. If My spelling sucks? I laugh about it. Is my character broken? RNG Jesus makes all equal. Is this lore compliant? Stretch that lore so long as its fun. Am I steeping on toes? Screw it. I got tired of being bitched at by people who turned around and did what they bitched at me about. You can't make everyone your friend if you are true to yourself. Will people like my character? Life is too short and I have limited free time. Will people want to rp with me? So long as you are friendly OOC, the answer has been yes. I was once nervous and apprehensive. Then I got enough rp to become jaded. And you will too. Life is short and we all have limited time to rp as it. Don't spend it afraid! Jump in. Make waves. I used to be terrified to make a splash cause I might get attention and do something wrong.. But only way you can get notice is to splash. So splash away and don't worry about making mistakes. EVERYONE makes mistake and if anyone gives you shit, move on. You'll find friends. 90 percent of rpers are friendly and awesome. That ten percent? Screw em. No use worrinf about. Once I got over my fear of that, I have had MUCH more fun rping. *Throws optimism all around and then exits stage left*

I'm confused. The end just seemed so passive aggressive. The end completely removed the valid points you had made prior to it. After that line, I no longer felt your argument was valid because it comes across that you never -wanted- to fit in because you never wanted to belong here, long term, in the first place because you were just going back to WoW at some point.

What a fun idea! I really like it. Have a new character I might try to have show up for this if I can make.

"Askier....who...?" - Nahare Mergrey, 2-16-2016 "I need to stop making alts..." Me, same day

XR8LFNUr3vw Had he really been a merchant prince once? Heir to a his father's legacy across the sea? Or was it all a dream? A past woven by the the threads of opium? The male couldn't recall anything clearly. For years now, he'd been constantly on a mix of opium to keep his mind a fog. To keep him lost in his own head. Keep him dreaming dreams that were memories. Memories were never real. Memories that were more real than his life of chains. Day in, day out. Chains, perfumes. Forced sex. Brothel walls. How many years? He couldn't recall. He only knew two things had once been real. He had once been called K'hole. And he had once known the art of hemamancy. That was his appeal. His slavers offering paying customer the chance to screw a blood mage. Course one who had been...collared. A collar that made his talent useless. But that's not what they wanted. They wanted his body and the bragging rights. To use. To sell. To exploit. And so they kept him drugged to make him docile. Even now, he was in chains. Silk sheets around his body. Perfume on the air. Drugs clouding his mind. Making him see the world as a dream. A nightmare. A hell he was too trapped in a fog to see. Another day, another eternity. This was his life. The past four years? Four millennia? Did it matter? Every morning he awoke, praying for either death or freedom. To the Twelve he prayed. Begged. Threatened. Made deals. Yet, so far, nothing. Only more suffering. More chains. More days in this hell. More dreams sent by the vapors in his blood The drugs consumed his mind and the slave slipped into the clouds as the door opened. In his mind, he saw the angel again. The vision of the miqo'te in black. The one who had come to him in his dreams last night. The one who had promised him freedom. The angle. The one who promised kindness. The door shut and K'hole lost himself in the drugs power. Kindness, it seemed, was not to come tonight.

-Overloads on cuteness and pukes on the floor. Then dies. Bitter old man cats cannot handle such insane levels of cute.-

Pro's: Pretty much rp everywhere you look. It's cool. And, overall, people are open to rp if you poke them OOC first. Cons: People assume there is a "cool kids" club or a secret rp Illuminati. Just clicks that, honestly, have zero power over all and wont keep you from finding rp.

sBr3UB6ICdA From behind the mask, Jin'li's onyx eyes gazed over the thirteen bodies laid out around his feet. Fresh were they dead. So much so, that some even still had the color in their cheeks. There were elezens, hyurs, miqo'te and roes. All laid before him in this small room. Two grave robbers stood nearby, watching at Jin'li moved slowly among the dead. Jin'li wore a different outfit. He was dressed in a dark blue robe. A hideous, nightmarish mask covered his visage and the surface of the mask seemed to shift slowly if one stared at it too long. The Mask of the Seven Horrors Hidden in Nald'thal's Mist. Jin'li had taken the mask, and with it, the mantle, from its previous owner several months ago and had been using them for his own agendas ever since. His tail twitched as he came to stop by one corpse. His black eyes blinked and the head cocked as he knelt down, studying the dead face intently. "Ya likes thats ones?" hissed one of the grave robbers. A pale, skeletal elezen who had long ago stopped seeing the sun or bathing. "Good price that one. Fresh too. Fresh as ya can get. Great for whatever a master necromancer likes yerself be plannin'" Jin'li reached out and touched the face with a gloved hand. "Where did you get this one?" Jin'li's voice was harsh and arrogant as he changed it to sound like the original owner of the mask. "Well, I donts recalls...some slave dump grave me thinks." Jin'li blinked as he tenderly caressed the dead face. His black eyes peered down as his other hand reached down and pulled open the closed, dead eyelids. Bloodshot, jade green eyes gazed back at him. "So then, here, in this hell hole, this one finds you. Suspicions are true it seems." Jin'li rose to his feet and turned over to look at the two grave robbers. "Load the other twelve on the wagon. This one, wrap for transport. I'll go to collect your coin." "As ya wants." the skinny elezen said as he picked a wad of snot from his nose and wiped it on his shirt. Jin'li permitted a look of disgust to form on his masked face as he he turned and exited into the next room. The next room was nothing more than a single room cabin with a fire burning hot in the center, surrounded by beds and tables. One would never have surmised this hut housed so many corpses in the room attached. The miqo'te went to its bag and pulled out a leather pouch of gil. The masked miqo'te began counting out coins as his mind slowly pondered. Nahare Mergrey and the paladin, Julius Bennet, were free from his control now. Both suddenly and completely free. The void miqo'te had known such an event was inevitable, but this had been executed with skill. Skill in the aether arts neither Bennett nor Lady Mergrey possessed. The number of potential helpers was small, but troublesome and Jin'li wondered if he ought to delay events. After all, was he not planning other operations all over the nations. Did he need to focus on Eorzea, or could he slip away and return at a later point? The miqo'te rose with the required coins. For now, he needed the corpses attended too. He would dwell upon the other matters later.

Askier Mergrey: Angry Garlean deserter turned terrorist who's abusive disposition toward his son is only sated during his constant self destructing boozing and whoring while chain smoking his lungs black. Jin'li Epinoch: Rape survivor goes insane from traumatic childhood and goes about plunging the world into chaos as a coping mechanism.

"This one trusts everything is in order?" Jin'li stood, his back to the stormy ocean that was white capping viciously as it slammed into the beach. All over the white sands were boxes and sailors moing them about. Just of the shore were anchored two, large galleons. For roughly an hour, sailors had been lowering boxes taken from the cargo holds of the vessels and rowing them ashore in small boats. A hyur in a red coat looked up from the box he'd been looking into and nodded. "Aye," the hyur said, in a thick Limsian accent. "These weapons be right proper fer us. And tha coin be as equally satisfyin'. Consider these deal a done thing, Mr. Oul." The hyur held out his gloved hand to the small, pale miqo'te. Jin'li took the hand and shook it gingerly. "There is much pleasure on our side in this matter, captain. As per our agreement, we will meet you here in one month with extra coin. And every month after." "And ya'll find my boys have sunk as many trade ships on these seas as we can get out hands onto

I'm sorry. Sei, the photo is amazing but. . . Amra is still a shirtless hippie! -shakes old man fist-

XncuY4wLaA8 The slave hunched down as the bitter winds ripped through the cage's iron bars that trapped himself and his ten, fellow slaves. Each slave was a unique mortal. Born and raised. Each had a story to tell. Each had dreams and fears. Each was born as equals to the slavers that held them. Each equal to kings and queens. All that held them were the cages, both literal, and the ones made by society. The slave opened his eyes. A hyur of thirty years, he was not an unattractive man. He was tan, and bearded; with steely grey eyes and a hawkish nose. He was once called Benten Westmoore. Now he was slave number forty-three. They had taken his name. His freedom. His rights. All taken that night he had been abducted from Limsa after too much drinking by the docks. For months now, he had sailed the oceans in chains. Being dragged about to be sold to someone. And now, here he was. Hundreds of miles from the sea. Into the mountains cold he was taken, to slave in the mines of someone whom felt it better to work replaceable labor to death that pay an honest days wage to some miner. Benten had made his peace with his gods that he would die. Some slaves he had arrived with had already passed. Benten looked outside the cage. There were ten other cages loaded with slaves. The poor mortals all hunched as they stared with dull eyes. The nearby tunnels stood open and dark, and deep inside would be the place these slaves would be worked to death so that someone at the top could grow richer. This was the way of the world. Least it had been before the angel had come. In the darkness it had moved, wrapped in a black coat with eyes that were darker than the night. A way to freedom it had promised. A chance to take back their lives if they would but fight for it. It had given them weapons to hide. Daggers, swords, axes. All given and then advised someone sleep upon them to hide them from the guards who returned after the angel's departure. But the cage's were still locked. But Benten knew that the angel would free them. They must simply be ready to die for their freedom. Benten was. There was a shout and Benten looked over. The twenty or so guards were laughing as they stood around a fire, finishing their breakfast. Soon the guards would finish and they would drag the slaves into the mines to work. But today was their undoing. Benten watched with hatred as the guards laughed. Sure, they loved their life. They benefited from the social order. They got to crush others under their boots. \ Benten would smash all their faces. A boy beside Benten sneezed and the older man looked at the boy. "Just a little longer." Benten whispered. "Are we sure this is the only way?" the boy mumbled. He was no older than fourteen and shaking from cold and fear. "Boy, after ten weeks in the mine, you'll be wishing you had died here, today." wheezed a pale faced slave with a long, black beard. He had been here longer than the rest and knew the horrors of this place. "Aye. We just wait the angel's sign. He promised..." Benten saw it then. Ten ravens flew down from the mountain side, cawing wildly. They shot for the cages. As the birds slammed into the locks, the birds exploded into void fire that melted the metal. In seconds the locks were gone and the guards and slaves both stared at the spectacle. Benten was the first to move. With a mighty shout he rolled over the slave who had died last night due to exposure and seized an axe from beneath. Like a beast, he threw himself at the gate and it slammed opened. He looked at his fellow slaves. "Fight! Fight for your lives or die in holes!" Bentsen bellowed and charged the guards; who were scrambling for their weapons. All around Benten, other slaves stirred, seizing weapons and flinging open the doors to their cages. A madness overtook the beaten mortals and the fire of freedom burned in their eyes. It was this fire that the guard saw before Benten lodged his axe into the guard's screaming face. Blood coated Benten as he roared in rage and desperation. * * * It was over in less than five minutes. The last guard was bleeding out as the winds howled. The twenty guards lay strewn about, blood oozing from their hacked bodies. Meanwhile, nineteen of the slaves had been slain and at least another seven would succumb to their wounds by the day's end. The guards had been the better fighters. But the surprise and confusion had given the slaves enough time to take their revenge. Benten clutched a hole in his side as blood trickled from it. He wasn't sure if it was fatal but he didn't care. He sat, leaning against a barrel, drinking beer for the first time in months as the snow fell about his face. He might die, but he was getting to drink and die as a free man. A tear rolled down his eye and he held his side tighter. He had a family to return too. He could not die here. Would not die here. "Thank you, angle in black." Benten whispered softly to the heavens. "Thank you for you kindness." Nearby, a white raven cawed and took to the sky.

If you are soulless and have no feelings, the picture makes it look like Nahare has leaking eye syndrome and needs some clear eyes to get the dirt outta them. lol.

iSUzeR7JAlo There was fire, and snow. And bitter cold wrapped in darkness. And pain. So much pain. The miqo'te opened his eyes; one black, one gold. Brown hair fell around his face as the wind howled around him; spraying him with snow. The miqo'te shivered despite his thick, red coat as he tried to move. He flexed the gyros of his magitek arm. They squeaked but functioned as intended. His right arm, however, did not move. Askier rolled over onto his back and howled as the the pain agony ran through his ruin of a right arm. His shattered bones had ruptured the flesh and blood and muscle tissue spilled out as he gasped at frozen air. The sleeve of his coat has been melted around the flesh and bone and stuck to his scorched muscle like a lover to her returned partner. His teeth gnashed as he began to sob tears of pain as he tried to make sense of the world. All around him burned the wrecked of a crashed airship. The airship! That's right, he had been flying north to Ishgard. To look for...something. The Garlean's mind was wrapped in fear and he could not think. Not comprehend. Not rationalize as he screamed again. The winds. The blizzard had engulfed the airship. And then that damnable drake had attacked the airship! Out of no where it had rent their airship apart with its wretched talons and sharp teeth. The ruined airship had fallen down...down...down...him...and the crew and... "Drumstick!" Askier shrieked in horror, suddenly fearing for the fate of his chocobo that had accompanied him this trip. His head danced around and... Blood dripped down his head and he suddenly realized he could not feel his left ear. The one from which his bomb earing had hung. His ticket home. His ear had been severed and must now be... "Squawk." came a small, caw and Askier turned his head and strained his neck. There, pinned beneath debris, was his mount. The same yellow bird that had been with him almost ten years. "Drumstick!" Askier croaked as he staggered to his feet, and limped over to the bird's side. Blood was staining the snow around the bird and it's eyes were half open as they watched Askier close the gap between them. Drumstick cooed weakly, but happily as Askier fell to his knees and leaned against the bird. Askier didn't say anything. He simply began to cry. Tears ran down his face as he realized Drumstick would be dead soon and there was nothing Askier could do to stop it. He used his metal hand to gently caress the bird. "I'm so sorry, buddy." Askier wept. "I-" "This one did inform you, once, that he would be reuniting you and the Lady Adonis one day." came a voice. Askier's head jerked up. There, not ten feet away, his black coat dancing around his tiny body, was the abomination of a miqo'te that dared to be his brother. The little monster named Jin'li, hough his hair was black now. Askier went to speak but was cut off as Jin'li's thin lips moved: "Course it seems you'd rather continue fornicating with inexpensive whores than have constructed a romantic, fairy tale ending to your story." Jin'li was leaning on a cane and was smiling, clearly pleased with himself. Which was wrong. Jin'li having emotions was wrong. What in the hell? "What the hell are you talking about?" Askier gasped, his ribs protesting and he realized several were broken. The Garlean coughed, blood flying from his lips. "Tell this one, did you bed a whore the next day after Lady Adonis passed, or did you at least wait a week out of respect for the dead?" Jin'li shifted his weight as his hair danced around his face. "That woman was a saint for ever even considering you, but you never deserved her. You've never deserved anything that you've obtained." "Oh shut up. You don't know shit! Besides, since when did you care about anything?" Askier wheezed, blood dribbling down his chin as he coughed. "Ironically, when -I- was set free from myself." Jin'li smiled. "I'm still debating if I need to thank Jin'to or Adin for -that-. But either way, I've come to send you to hell. And this time-" Jin'li lifted up something in his right hand. It was Askier's ear. And his bomb earing with the aetherstone inside was still dangling from it as blood dripped onto the snow "You won't be escaping." Jin'li finished his statement with a smile. "You see, normally the things this one does aren't personal. I kill, I murder, I destroy beautiful things because I must to bring down the chains that bind the masses. This one is natural selection made flesh and takes pride in that. But you. Oh you, you've disgusted me for years. Even when I was a slave. I just never let myself realize emotions till recently. But, more so than our mother, more so than the slavers that owned me, more so than even the people who raped and molested me, I hate you. Because you embody everything I hate." "You talk to damn much." Askier chuckled. "Perhaps. But this one is setting the record straight. You die. And, while the original story was you greet your first bride in Nald'thal's ream, you can rot in the hells and watch as chaos envelops everything you now care for." "So I'm guessing that drake that attacked our airship was a friend of yours." Askier wheezed. "This one prefers to assume it was simple charisma that gained the drake's assistance." "I think I liked you when you didn't have a personality." Askier spat as he glared up at his little brother. "You won't be the last whom remarks the same by the time this one is done." Jin'li stated flatly. Askier saw them then. Three mangy wolves slinking out of the darkness. Glowing red eyes blazing in their skulls. Yellow, blood stained teeth shined through rotted gums and torn lips. They gazed at him as they slowly strolled forward, paws soft in the snow as they walked past Jin'li. Drumstick cawed in fear but it was a weak, gargling noise. Askier moved his metal arm into his coat and pulled out a grenade. Jin'li raised an eyebrow. "I'd have figured by now you'd know such trivial weapons cannot, permanatly, kill me." "I tend to be very stubborn." Askier snorted as he pulled the pin out with his teeth and let hit drop from is lips into the snow. The wolves growled. "Is this the part where you tell this one to meet you in hell?" Jin'li blinked. "Doubt it. Even hell is too good for you, you fuck." Askier looked at his chocobo. "Keep her company for me, Drumstick." Askier dropped the grenade and the primer handle. There was a gun shot and Askier jerked back as the bullet slammed into his chest. With wide, agonized eyes, Askier looked at Jin'li and the smoking gun he held. Askier had just enough time to give Jin'li the middle finger before the grenade detonated with a tremendous explosion that sent debris and smoke into the air. The fire and snows danced on the winds. Jin'li's black eyes took in the carnage as he lowered his firearm. [align=center]"No wealth, no land, no silver, no gold, Nothing satisfies me but your soul."[/align]

What impeccable timing, this one just dug a grave... LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.... LEEEEEETSSS GEETTTT READDY RUUUUUUMMMMMMMMBBBBBLLLLEEEE.

Once upon a time there was a brand new Rper who had only one person to rp with and a character not Max level. He had no friends but wanted to tell a story. So he poked some people on this site, gathered lots of lore, thought up a basic story and, knowing no one might show up, decided to run an event where he would play the bad guy and let people.try to stop his character. Five weeks and five events later the plot ended with him having met lots of awesome people to role play with and his character suddenly well known despite the fact he ooc knows almost nothing about the game and was still not Max level. The point here is that if you want rp, sometimes the best thing to do is not hunt but set it up yourself. The above is me and its true. I don't know the lore well still. I still.don't have a level 60. And I'm not the best speller and my story was super cliche. But I wanted rp and, when I couldn't find it, I set up a plot myself. This is my advice. Its scary. Its hard. A LOT of work but the rewards are worth all the effort. Believe me, its doable If a total noob like me can bull shit well enough to have over 50 people show up to the events I ran, anyone can do it.

The following is my opinion and is neither right nor wrong, just an opinion. First, I find the fact that Nat received such dramatic backlash for her choice to kill her character to be really surprising. I've always respected Nat for having the balls to ACTUALLY kill her main character and go through with it all the way. Killing off a character isn't an easy thing at all to begin with and I always felt Nat's death was one of the most memorable moments in my rp career. Especially since I was there when Nat did it. Second, if someone decides to axe their character off, it's their right to do so. Will it affect other characters? Yoouuuu beeet ya. But is death in real life any different? Do we get to PICK when the people we love go? Do we get a nice, drawn out -hey I'll be dying soon- talk from those about to go? No. Death is something that can happen in a flash with no ceremony or warning and to say that people should be warned OOC is a nice idea but, in my opinion, hardly a necessary one. Maybe that makes me an ass, but doesn't the idea that we could lose a beloved character at any moment make the rp spent with them even better? People talk about how death is so common in Eorzea, so doesn't a player character dying actually drive that reality home? What good is saying "Eorzea is dangerous" if no one ever dies? People kill off characters for all sorts of reasons. Plot purposes, tired of playing them, etc. Hell I've axed off like five different characters for various reasons. I think its a very viable tool and one players should use if/when they desire to do so and I always respect a player when they do it cause it takes guts. If you haven't killed off a character, trust me when I say it really is something not done lightly. So in answer to the OP, yeah I'm open to killing my characters. lol

A 'Good' young character. A true, idealistic, out to change the world sort of paladin who only sees the good in people. I've never played it it, cause honestly, I could never do the character justice. I'd slip and say something snarky, or rude, IC and mess it all up and get them out of character. lol Plus I like rping villains to much.

"Look at you." the voice sneered. The voice was wrong, as if emotion was not normally found within it. "Did you really perceive within thy mind's eye that you would claim victory from beneath the realm of the gods? You exist only because your are self sustaining. You perceive, therefore your self remains. You are a whisper on the wind, a forgotten legacy that shall be assimilated. You are a memory, the past, a forgotten ruin that is no longer needed, meanwhile, I am the future. The doom that now slinks through the darkness of the world. Pale lips pulled back to reveal yellow teeth as soulless, black eyes gazed down at the hunched figure on its knees before him. The kneeling figure raised it eyes and they were as equally black. Twin optics of blackest onyx. The two figures gazed at one another, nearly mirroring one another. Both wore black, both had flesh as pale as snow, and both had eyes as soulless as the other; pits of darkness. The difference was the hair. One had black, the other solid white. The twin Jin'li's stared and the one with black hair sneered at the other version of himself that knelt in defeat before him as the dark mists of death and the void roiled around them like burning witches on pyres. "This one finds-" the kneeling Jin'li started, but the standing Jin'li kicked him in the face and then stomped his boot down on his victim's throat. "I don't care what -this one- finds." The black haired Jin'li smirked while running his tongue over his lips. "You are no savior, no liberator. You are a ruiner of my fun. The last splinter that was made by Adin's hands. Time. To. Fade. Away." "You cannot defeat this one." the white haired Jin'li started as the black haired Jin'li leaned in. "This one is self aware and can always-" The Jin'li with white hair was silenced as the black haired Jin'li placed their lips together and slipped his tongue into the protesting mouth. The passionate kiss enveloped the stunned white haired version of the miqo'te. The black haired Jin'li's lecherous grin twisted and suddenly he drew into himself, his lungs swirling as the void roiled around them. The white haired Jin'li began to steam, and shimmer as aether was drained from him into the gullet of the black haired Jin'li. Screams of a thousand dead ripped through the air and in moments, only the black haired Jin'li stood there. His black eyes rolled open slowly and then he turned, smiling as the veil of death fell away from him and he found himself standing inside the inn room he had rented. A pentagram in yellow chalk was glowing on the floor it had been drawn upon and the candles made from the fat of murdered men had become all but spent. The vile miqo'te ran his hands down his face and neck sensually and then purred as he hunched over. His black eyes stared through half open eyelids at a raven with glowing eyes that blinked back at him. Jin'li smiled dreamily. "Enlighten me, little one, is enjoying the taste of yourself as you tongue your negative gay or simply masturbation?" Jin'li then cackled as he rose up to his diminutive height as walked out of the encircled pentagram and strode out of his room as the raven cawed and took its seat upon his soldier. The short miqo'te left the building with no fan fair. In fact, most paid the little miqo'te in black no attention. With quick strides he stepped out onto the street before halting. A hyur, dressed in rags held a tin cup out. "Spare a few coins?" the beggar wheezed. Jin'li blinked and then smirked. He reached into his coat and wrapped his hands around something. He held it and in a flash- -He dropped a bag with several hundred gil onto the cup. The beggar gazed in disbelief as the bag of coins fell onto the ground. "B-b-bless you sir!" the beggar stammered thankfully. "You are too kind!" Jin'li's ears flicked and he laughed. "No one does kindness like me. After all, there is no one like me." Jin'li ran his tongue over his lips. "Not any more."

Is it kinda OP? Yeaaaaaahhh -grovels in shame-

The Black Chains base was busy. The "Zulu" had returned not an hour ago and the hangar was busy with mechanics inspecting the craft for its next flight, while several others hand taken the unconscious miqo'te they had captured from Highbridge to a cell. A'trus had been debriefing the operation with his small team of snipers to go over what had happened. It had been a rough operation. The target had not come alone, though was not a surprise. What had been a surprise was the amount of resistance it had taken, the fight that had occurred, and the number of fingernails they had to pop off Korofi's hand before the Grimsong agreed to climb into the cage. But eventually the Grimsong had climbed into the cage. They had exchanged Korofi to the Dauntless and now the airship, the Black Chains, and the bounty were home. Things seemed like they were going well. That changed immediately as the sniper team left and a woman dressed in a long, white robe with dark skin and long, ebony hair entered. Her face was pointed and hawkish but she was disturbingly alluring, though in her eyes was a look of a hunter eager to devour prey. Kresha. A'trus looked at the tall hyur woman and blinked as the Highlander came over and whispered into his ears. A'trus stiffened. "Are you sure?!" The male exclaimed, his teeth gnashing. "Without a doubt. The face doesn't resemble the sketch close enough, Similiar yes, but clearly not. Not old enough." Kresha's reply was quiet. A'trus ran his tongue over his teeth and hissed before speaking. "Kresha, do be a dear and get this male's name, and Grimsong's location, please." Kresha gave a soft purr and nodded. "Oh, I'll give him my -special- hospitality." Kresha turned and exited the room. Meanwhile A'trus held in his frustration as he looked over at the desk and began thinking as he looked over papers. They had sent a decoy. They were really cruel enough to not send the right male? Now, this decoy would suffer and so would anyone else that prevented A'trus from Grimsong's head.

They called her: "The Bitch." And having seen her face, A'trus understood why. She just had this look of a woman that would screw you over first chance she got. The way she spoke, talked, and moved all just made her immediately unpleasant. Granted her words were polite but it was obviously all pleasantries. And A'trus got the feeling that whoever pissed this woman off would suffer before they got sent to the beyond. A'trus almost pitied this -Grimsong-. "Now then," the Au Ra called the bitch said, her voice a confident, smug purr, like a cat that had discovered how to hunt mice with a canon and enjoyed it more than she should. The Bitch swirled her glass of red wine and took a sip. Her red hair fell about her red flesh as her snow white optics fluttered open to fix A'trus with a steely gaze. She was dressed in cloths that seemed almost a size too large for her, as if she was deliberately hiding her womanly curves. "As we were discussing before that waiter interrupted," the Bitch sipped her glass of red wine as the sea breeze blew up from the waves below while she and A'trus sat in the Bismark. "The senior members of our organization want this Grimsong alive. We have evidence that you are among the best, so you'll be paid -very- handsomely for his retrieval. Simply apprehend the target and, once he is in your possession, we shall take him off your hands and fill it with coin. Simple, no?" It was simple. That's why A'trus was apprehensive. "And the catch is?" A'trus blinked, sipping his glass of water. "Well," The Bitch mused as she put her glass down. "It's not so much a catch as an irony. I believe you recall the Red Wings." A'trus raised an eyebrow and The Bitch chuckled before speaking. "Don't be surprised we know about that little event. Our organization's leading members, combined, run a respectable percentage of the slaving ships, brothels, and drug dens in the Thanalan area. We are appropriately interconnected with the right people who are paid to look the other way. And its -amazing- what military officers will say to impress a lover while they are lusty." A'trus grunted before he replied. "Alright, so you know some things, what does this have to do with the Red Wings?" The Bitch was silent a moment and then: "Your target is currently residing with a splinter group named 'The Dauntless.' Former soldiers now thugs for hire." "How ironic." A'trus mused. "Indeed. And, considering your success with dealing with them last time, we selected you for this mission. You know the area, you've hunted them before, and we know the only reason you didn't collect all of them was because of politics." "This isn't going to ensnare use back up -in- those politics I hope?" A'trus grunted and shifted. The Bitch gave a disarming smile. Well it supposed to be. It only earned a raised eyebrow from A'trus. "Not at all. Simply hunt him down and recover him for us." A'trus turned his attention down to the large pile of papers she had handed him earlier. He simply nodded and then rose to feet. "Leaving so soon? Our meals aren't even here yet?" The Bitch said, feigning sadness. A'trus flicked his tail. "You must forgive me, but I would rather be working than sitting here. No offense, but I've never enjoyed politics or idle chatter." A'trus slowly walked away as The Bitch shrugged and gave a small chuckle as she took another sip of her wine. The female lifted her hand to a small metal ring with a linkpearl that was welded to her horn. He pressed it and spoke. "They've accepted the job. A'trus is already off to take care of it." The Bitch nodded and crossed her legs as she listened to the chatter in the pearl. "Oh, don't worry, this will be handled with my usual discretion." There was a pause and she smiled at the voice that spoke into her horn. "Oh yes, -that- type of discretion. I'll keep you and the rest of the council informed. See you soon."

The desert sun shone down hot as the dry wind blew the long strings of sands from the cliff tops. Eagles circled overhead as silence hung like a blanket over the land. A crack like lightening split the silence and a whizzing tore through the air. A wooden target's knee exploded into splinters and the prone miqo'te smiled as a voice buzzed through the linkpearl in his ear. "Excellent shot, sir. Right in the knee." The miqo'te pulled his right eye away from the scope of his massive rifle and blinked the blue optic. His left eye opened and it shone a blood red as he reached for another tall bullet encased in brass. His nimble fingers spun the round through them as he used his thumb to open the chamber cover and then slipped the bullet back in. The sniper then pulled the firing pin back with a click and returned his face to the stock of his rifle. The miqo'te was prone on the edge of the cliff. His target was down below him at a range of half a mile. Two instruments buzzed beside him, spinning as they calculated wind speed and magnetic fields. former Flame Lieutenant A'trus "Loft" M. had always excelled at hunting prey. Even back when he was part of his tribe, he had been one of the best hunters. Now, after ten years in the service of Ul'dah, at age thirty, he was considered one of the best trackers and rifleman to have ever served. An officer who never questioned orders and whose unit always returned with their targets, even if it took longer than expected. Save for one mission. His unit's last. Used as pawns an manipulated by politics to hunt innocent, fellow Flames, the officer had resigned at the end of his last operation. His unit disbanded and he found himself suddenly making a heck of a living in the private sector of bounty hunting. His gang, many of which where from his old unit, had collected several fat bounties and life was significantly better than during their time in the service. Twice the pay, less hours, and no one objected to A'trus -habits-. A'trus slowed his breathing as he aimed at the target below. He had earned the nickname "Loft" from his habit of always having the high ground. A character trait some claimed made him to predictable. But with his rifle, it didn't matter. The brown haired seeker fired. His bullet spun thanks to the double rifling cut into the barrel's core. The large pay load then pierced the air and raced across the distance. Several seconds later the wooden target's other knee exploded and the former officer grinned again, flashing white teeth as he opened his mismatched eyes and rose to his feet. Several pairs of hands were clapping and he turned and blushed at three of his soldiers. "Don't you all have work to be doing?" A'trus said as he brushed the sand from his shirt and paints before hefting the rifle up into his arms. "Probably." replied former sergeant Rungee, a dark skinned hyur with a talent for traps. The hyur then walked over and sat by the edge of the cliff beside his former superior officer. "You ever miss the service?" Rungee asked as he eyed the targets before. A'trus yawned. "You mean miss getting used for some politician's gain while I had to go to widows and mothers and explained why their loved ones were dead for pointless politics? Oh yeah, miss it so much." "Look at you, sir. Out of the service less than a cycle and already you're a cynic." Rungee chuckled as he looked over at the miqo'te. "Stop calling me Sir, Rungee." A'trus grunted at his former sergeant. The dark skinned hyur had left the same day A'trus had and been the first to join his -new- Black Chains group. "Probably not going to happen soon, sir, habits and all." Rungee beamed a white smile before he pulled out a piece of paper and held it to the sniper cat. "Job offer. May not be your favorite though." A'trus reached over as he lay on his belly and snatched the parchment up. His eyes began reading over it as Rungee went on. "Job's from slavers. But we aren't snatching a slave. Snatching someone that pissed off the organization while working for them at one point. I know how you feel about slaver coin but I saw that price tag and had to at least consider it. They want to meet you obviously prior." A'trus licked his lips as he read the document before he began to quietly chew on his lower one. After a moment, he wiggled his nose and sniffed. "Well, the person being hunted down doesn't sound like a real wonderful human being. And, as you said, slaver coin or not, that price tag is nothing to dismiss. Get with your contact and set up a meeting. Worst case, I get a free meal out of this meeting." "Aye, sir." Rungee replied with a cheeky grin. "Stop calling me 'sir!'"

-sees the sleeping cat and the sign. Throws bucket of ice water onto slumbering feline and hauls ass anyway- Tehehehehehehehheheheheh

Ummm, It sounds like you are suffering from SERIOUS emotional bleed and that's a red flag situation. I mean I understand people rp and sometimes make connections oocly. Heck I am friends to some degree with my.whole fc oocly. But you very openly say that you are experiencing your character's emotions and that's a sign you need to walk away and get off the game for a bit. IC and OOC should never mix. Your character's relationship with this other character and your ooc relationship with the person who plays the character are two different things. Period. Now if your OOC relationship becomes more than a friendship, great. But it should become that because of things that happen that are unrelated to IC things. Cause if you go after this person feeling 'love' and they have no desire to be anything more than friends ooc, you are setting yourself up for drama that will very likely ruin your friendship and your IC relationship.