Melkire

I'd like to sign up for Antlings with Haruko. If someone new wants in (fresh blood, w00t!) I'll happily step aside for 'em.

fills out survey Excellent idea, OP, thank you.

As has already been mentioned, there's a common theme throughout fiction that gets brought forward into the limelight in certain genres (heist, noir in general, etc.): Smart criminals don't advertise. Most of the time, you only catch the dumb ones. Substitute "villains" for "criminals" and you have the fundamental problem with "bad guy RP," which is that the overt ones don't last long and the covert ones don't get noticed. This is further compounded by hero types outnumbering villain types, which only incentivizes more caution and discretion on the villain's part. This is even FURTHER compounded by competing interests in conflict resolution, and that gets more complicated in an open setting compared to a private one. Sadly, villains in FFXIV RP work best as one-shots or as central figures in a private storyline with a DM a la pen-and-paper gaming. That's not to say that a villain in an open setting doesn't work. It just takes a lot more effort (planning, communication, inevitable drama, and so on). A lot of that is owed to the gravity placed upon criminal or morally reprehensible activities in XIV's RP scene. There's an appreciation for the significance and "weightiness" of murder, for instance, that parallels and is most likely drawn from attitudes on display in FFXIV's Main Story Quests.

Steel Cyclone now has sustain akin to Inner Beast and Storm's Path.... Ha. Aha. Ahahahahahahaha. Yes. Good. I shall be taking out the trash. All of the trash. All of the time. (I still miss Bloodbath-Vengeance, damn whichever developers took that away from me) The other WAR changes seem really nice. Letting them stance-dance without cost was kind of a no-brainer, as that's how the kit was designed in 3.0. Make {Shake It Off} actually useful, UNCOUPLE THE SHARED CD BETWEEN UNCHAINED AND INNER RELEASE FFS, and that'll be it as far as much-needed QoL fixes for WAR.

Be prepared for more of this, and not just on Chaos datacenter. From what I've been told and the little research I've seen, the servers -- read: the physical machines -- for each world A) have not been upgraded yet, and B) are identical. That would mean that a congested world like Balmung and a relatively empty world like Zalera are running on identical pieces of hardware. IF IT'S TRUE...! This would explain why there's been a lack of further investment in the infrastructure: the capacity is there but it's not being utilized. So you'll see what's happened with Omega happen elsewhere: incentives will prompt communities to agree on a particular world to populate, and once it's been populated Square-Enix will shut the gates on that world and continue offering incentives to transfer elsewhere. This will probably continue until the existing capacity has been filled... or, at least, the distribution of players grows to be more level than it is now.

To address this, even though I've not finished 4.0 MSQ either: Doma and Hingashi are two different nations altogether. The port city of Kugane belongs to the latter. Ergo it stands to reason that no, they'd not have that jurisdiction... although extradition wouldn't be off the table. Again, not finished with the story but unless there are some major fundamental changes in the latter half of 4.0 MSQ, I'd not expect Sekiseigumi to venture out of Hingashi in an official capacity. Not often, anyway. It'd be like a Brass Blade trying to exert their authority in, say, Limsa or Gridania. You might see them, though, in a similar capacity to the Brass Blades in Kugane: as guards, bodyguards, escorts, etc., for official representatives.

While I do applaud your post, there's some bias here that I want to point out. Your last bolded sentence should have gone as follows: Mateus is not a threat to Balmung, and Balmung is not a threat to Mateus. It's the feedback loop that's so dangerous and toxic to cooperative efforts and peaceful coexistence. Defensive Mateus natives and quick-to-take-offense Balmung natives (I freely admit to occasionally landing in the latter category) feed into each other if they're not careful to step back when discussion stops being civil.

There's this age-old adage about those who don't learn from history. I forget how it goes.

I haven't been involved in any way, shape, or form so take this with a grain of salt, but from what I've heard it came down to a matter of "advertising in the right place at the right time". Which is not to say that other servers aren't advertising: I've seen ads from both Jenova and Faerie elsewhere (and I know they've threads here on RPC), and they seem to be doing well for themselves. That said, folks from Mateus were quick to take advantage (as they should!) of Balmung's closure. Now, mind you, the RP communities of FFXIV are not the only ones grappling with server closure. Gilgamesh is shuttered as well, and they are more or less the PvE hotspot. The difference with them is that you won't find much success in the way of an organized effort from PvE fans to situate large clusters of themselves on the same server. Word of mouth is how they learn where to go and where NOT to go, and I suspect we'll be seeing the same thing happen with roleplayers. It's saddening to hear of toxicity and tension -- much of it very similar to the early growing pains of the RPC itself with the whole Balmung-Gilgamesh debacle -- but in the end it'll play out such that people will end up where they want to be, with the exception of the now-closed servers. As for other servers... everyone I've ever met from Goblin or Sargatanas via Duty Finder has been a complete sweetheart. But yes, Jenova, Faerie, and Siren are other alternatives to Balmung.

Same. Extension of that: private security. Not all guards are for royal personages. I'll also second the notable lack of "merchant" or any such generic umbrella terms, probably owing to too much of a focus of the poll on in-game classes.

As far as the EN is concerned, the patch names are taken directly from quotations from Edmont a.k.a. the count of Fortemps. Each patch ends with such a quotation, iirc.

Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! A "Merchant, Marine" Synopsis Osric -Guilty of Already Being Guilty -Guilty of Circumstances Beyond His Control -Guilty of Eating Ledgers Tengri -Guilty of Slow-Motion L'Oreal Hair-Flip -Guilty of Breaking Travel Rules Concerning Communication -Guilty of Fruitless Efforts of the First Degree Leanne -Guilty of Sedition -Guilty of Justifying Said Sedition -Guilty of Guilting Others for Not Approving of Said Sedition S'imba -Guilty of Taking A Bath -Guilty of Operating on Impulse -Guilty Because Hydaelyn Said So Yheli -Guilty of W.M.D. Development -Guilty of Fruitless Efforts of the Second Degree -Guilty of Ignorance Concerning Naval Procedures and Protocols Gallien -Guilty of Abetting Sedition -Guilty of Grand Theft Crystal -Guilty of Making the Crew of the Immersabilis Feel Inadequate Liadan -Guilty of Caring Too Much -Guilty of Racial Tolerance -Guilty of Respecting Haelstyrmm Tiergan -Guilty of Caring Too Much -Guilty of Chivalrous Tendency to Protect Damsels In Distress -Guilty of Breaking Familial Prohibition on Sweets Lurial -Guilty of Showing Interest But Not Following Through -Guilty of Extended Absence from The Storyline -Guilty of Rightfully Suspecting Gallien Vyese Orrin -Guilty of Minimal Involvement -Guilty of Posing as a Sadist -Guilty of Attempting to Sneak a Vacation at Costa Del Sol Aya -Guilty of Believing The Best of Everyone -Guilty of Violently Pole Dancing By Way of Garlean "Volunteers" -Guilty of Missing Too Many Shifts at the Quicksand Virara -Guilty of Being Everyone's Friend -Guilty of Assaulting Potion Sellers -Probably Guilty of a Flying Drop Kick Zanzan -Guilty of Making A Lot of Sisters Cry -Guilty of Actually Attending A Training Course -Guilty of Catamaran Shenanigans Qara -Guilty of Crimes Against Paint -Guilty of Loving a Vegetable -Guilty of Catamaran Shenanigans Chahka -Guilty of Tsundere Tendencies -Guilty of Vegetable Hatred -Guilty of Murderous Murderlizard Murder Aigiarn -Guilty of Fantasy Prone Personality -Guilty of Enabling Ding-Dong-Ditch on Gloam's Doorstep -Guilty of Extensive Knowledge of Borealis-Class Stealth Assault Bombers Hihisa -Guilty of Panicking -Guilty of Playing with Daddy's Toys -Guilty of Getting Daddy in Trouble with Daddy's Friends Anstarra -Guilty of Showing Up Late to the Storyline -Guilty of Flirtatious Displays Unbecoming An Officer -Guilty of Murderous Murdercatte Murder Ojene -Guilty of Showing Up Late to the Storyline -Guilty of Being Wright to Holsk's Edgeworth -Guilty of Believing Everyone Else to Be Several Cards Short of a Full Deck Khunbish -Guilty of Showing Up Late to the Storyline -Guilty of Not Being Guilty of Anything Else -Not Guilty (Excepting the Aforementioned Guilt) Edda -Guilty of Charity -Guilty of Association with Monetarists -Guilty of Character Development Eamon -Guilty of Nobility -Guilty of Mercantilism -Guilty of Profiteering -Guilty of Treason By Way of Collusion With The Garlean Empire -Guilty of Getting Away With It -Guilty of Being Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Storyline -Guilty of Being Too Handsome For His Age -Guilty of Being The Subject of Too Many Slash Fics -Guilty of Being Shipped with Commodore Haelstyrmm Eynarhmsson -Guilty of Being Most Guilty -Guilty of Being Guilty of Being Most Guilty

Kupo, mothermooglers!

Waves crashing against the shore. Gulls crying out from above. Sand crunching beneath feet. Thomys looked up from his bottle… from the stone upon which he sat… to look towards Costa Del Sol. His brother stood some two dozen fulms distant, hands in his pockets, waiting. “Late as -- hicc -- late as ever, Ossy! But at least you came, aye, kept your promise, say no -- hicc -- more, say no more!” He beckoned to Osric with a wave, and as his brother sighed with relief, Thomys could not help but feel that old enmity rise up his throat like bile. Always you. Always about you. To my everlasting regret. He turned back to his bottle and took a swig from it as Osric sat down on the sand next to him. He couldn’t remember how many bottles in he was, today. Did it matter? He supposed not. What was done? Was done. “Thank you,” said Osric without preamble. Thomys snorted. “For what? For not -- hicc -- shreddin’ your letter? For writin’ back? For actually listenin’ to what you had to say?” “...I was in the wrong, Thom. I’ve made my peace with that. How many more apologies will it take?” The youngest Melkire -- nah, see, I ain’t youngest anymore, now am I? -- barked a laugh. “Take your swivin’ apologies, Ossy. Don’t -- hicc -- don’t want ‘em. Same as I ain’t wantin’ a lecture.” Osric nodded, but eyed the bottle anyroad. “So where’d you…?” “Master Gegeruju likes his coin and hates your threats.” His brother chuckled and it reminded him of-- the click of a latch the clock of a lock the chuckle of the little man at the door as he shook his head and turned to set down his belongings safe and sound back in his own home --of days better left forgotten. “You want t’know somethin’?” The question caught his brother’s attention, so Thomys went on. “I had me one o’ them epi-what’s-its the other sun… about three bottles in….” The other midlander smirked as he looked to the ocean. “Epiphanies?” “That! Gods-be-damned eureka moment, was what it was!” two feet slamming into him as the Hyuran lad lands atop him the struggle the yelling the questions dagger too slow he’s too fast scrambling throw miss draw another dagger the book he’s got his “So there I am, aye? Thinkin’, alright, mayhap Ossy’s right ‘n’ I should turn from the drink. But… the ache, y’know? No family around… no friends… I needed somethin’. You were -- hicc - you were gone for weeks, left me waitin’... some trig cove I am, to think you were comin’ back….” a shining emerald wall sprang up between them i roar i slash my steel useless against that familiar sight sparks flying the hoarse screams of rage as the little man sees my face clearly in the light eyes widening recognition “You,” he says, “you’re--!” “...so I thought, why the hells not? And I went back t’drinkin’. Ain’t hard, pinchin’ a flask here ‘n’ there. Sold what I didn’t like, got me enough coin for ol’ Ul’dahn Ugly up there with his pretty women….” dropped haunches hands on the edge of the rug i pull and the carpet flies out from under the little man and the codex leaps out of that little hand lost slipped say sorry and as he falls the light of adloquium fades get after him before he can “...so I’m three bottles in, aye? And I get to thinkin’... you know, I been doin’ swell since I took up these side-jobs for my brother. Gettin’ a hold o’ rosters ‘n’ all… hicc ... might be I’ve a talent for somethin’ other than drinking and thieving, aye?” got him by the lapels red overcoat small man lift him off the floor and slam him against the wall and the little man cries out in pain boo hoo you swivin’ bag o’ shite here’s the dagger up against your everlasting THROAT and Osric shook his head but he nodded all the same, a wry grin on his face. “Go on.” “So I was all, well shite, I could be a real good hand at an honest-to-gods career, ‘cept I’ve got t’quit the drink somehow….” he sees the hungry look in the lad’s eyes and that’s good aye good for him let the bastard see me shaking from two week’s abstinence press the dagger in closer there we go my cullies look at it draw blood, “Wait,” he asks, “wait--” and i scream my defiance tears down my face i don’t care “We were talkin’ again,” he croaks, “finally talkin’ again” “...so I thought to m’self, hells, who does manage t’climb their way out of an addiction like mine? And I thought, that’s obvious Thom, the folk who’ve hit rock bottom! So I resolved....” ”and you TOOK HIM FROM ME! YOU!” weeping now openly weeping and the little man looks desperate but there’s a glint of oh twelve is that pity i don’t want your pity screw you sideways “He was comin’ back for me,” i’m sobbing now fuck me i need a drink and Sasatomo is pleadin’ with me but i say… i say... “Never again” as “...t’drink my way to rock bottom. As often and as fast and as -- hicc -- as hard as I can.” His brother’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You’re going t’drink your way out o’ drinking?” “Why not? I’ll grow sick of it soon enough, won’t I? Just like I’ve grown sick o’--” as i twist the point into his skin and punch up through the soft spot beneath his chin his jaw up and into his brains his body sags against the wall and i’m still crying and still screaming something is it never again no i think it’s “no black spots no black spots no black spots” and i slump to the floor with his corpse and i can’t help it rise fall rise fall goes my steel as i plunge my dagger into him again and again and again and “--Limsa.” Osric was frowning. “Are you alright, Thom?” “...aye.” He smiled over at his brother. “Lookin’ forward to gettin’ off this rock again. Tried it once. Wasn’t fun then… but that was before....” “...before what?” and i need a drink and i’m done i’m spent and silence and i’m on my knees and the lights flicker footsteps i hear footsteps i look up and there he is my benefactor in this venture this stupid rutting venture oh gods i need a drink he looks at me he looks at the corpse i ask him if it’ll all work out and he says he says “...before I knew that I had m’self a sister-in-law and two nieces!” He pushed himself up onto his feet, wobbling somewhat, and Osric followed suit. “So. Off t’Thanalan with us, aye? I get t’meet ‘em soon, aye?” His brother smiled, threw an arm around him, and nodded. “Aye. Forget all the rest. Family first.” Thomys frowned for a moment. “But… Haelstyrmm….” Osric sighed. “Was jus’ doin’ his job. Took me some time t’see it, but I ain’t goin’ after him for that. Nah. I’m done with vengeance.” he tells me all will be well all the holes will be difficult to explain but he’ll work something out no one will ever know he has his ways and his people have theirs and i’m relieved because it’s over i can move on i can go get a drink and as he offers me a hand up i take it and i throw him a smile it hurts but i smile and my accomplice this man this Tengri Geneq with his strange scales and horns and tail he bares his teeth as he smiles back at me. Thomys nodded. He gave the horizon over the Deep one last glance before he put one foot in front of the other and walked. He walked, together with his brother, back towards Costa and the ferry that awaited them… the ferry that would take them onward to the rest of their lives.

His knees struck the floor as large burly hands which held him by the wrists and shoulders forced him down onto the carpet. He rolled his head back up and barked a laugh. “This really necessary?” He caught a single glimpse of Jambert Mulliner, Captain of the 7th Squadron, pacing the floor of the office before him before another Sea Wolf hand clamped down over his skull and forced his head down, too. Right coeurls, ain’tcha? Knowin’ that y’can’t truly hold me down ‘n’ still goin’ for it anyroad. He flexed the fingers of each hand and listened to each pop as he felt his knuckles crack. Mulliner was speaking, but Osric wasn‘t altogether keen on listening, seeing as how the captain was addressing someone else entirely. “...my thanks again for the use of your office, Lieutenant, a pity the Commander couldn’t be here today…” “...pity indeed, sir…” “Bless you for the carpettin’, Peak! Last time they had me on the ruttin’ cobblest--” The pressure on his skull vanished for a moment as someone struck him across the face, as someone else twisted one of his arms up and back behind him. Osric sucked in a breath between his teeth, and then burst laughing as blood began to trickle down from one corner of his mouth. “...apologize for his rough treatment, the man is a criminal…” “...understand, sir, I do…” A small hand touched him, then… right between the shoulderblades, where the Black Spot festered like a malignant tumor, marring his skin like a revolting cross between a dark birthmark and an infected wound. Everyone who had touched him there in recent memory… even his own wife… had shuddered at the touch of it, at the feel of the malevolent aether that wasn’t his own as it coursed within his very blood… but this hand didn’t flinch. Not in the slightest. He sucked in another breath…. “...Yayatomo Sasatomo?” Footsteps thudded against the carpet as a Plainsfolk man circled around and came into view. The fellow looked old, judging by the grey streaks that shot through his otherwise stark-white hair and chin-strap beard. He was in uniform, his insignia designated him a Maelstrom lieutenant… and also one of the many decorated officials of Mealvaan’s Gate. “You know me.” “I know your nephew.” Sasatomo snorted. “So.... that’s why--” “My precious nephew had nothing to do with it. Horace was a friend of mine. He was always so fond of Danica… and I owed him a favor.” Osric blinked, but the ancient arcanist went on. “Now, hold still. This will feel much, much worse than the last time.” Sasatomo stepped forward to place one hand, palm up, against Osric’s chest… right over his heart. Bent over as the midlander was, this had the rather absurd effect of looking as though the Lalafell was holding him up. And… and if to complete the insanity of the scene… Mulliner’s words to Flames First Lieutenant Burning Peak drifted over to them…. “...barbaric, please do believe that I would never have authorized the use of a Spot…” The laughter which threatened to once more bubble up to his lips died in his throat. His entire torso went ice-cold, as though he’d been dropped into a frigid Coerthan pool, and his arms and legs soon followed. Pain shot through his frame, from top to bottom, and as he registered the similarities to cramping… he began to seize. His teeth slammed together, and he had just enough time to think, this is why it’s necessary, before his internal temperature shifted again. Burning… burning alive. Chest pains, as though something had coiled about his heart and refused to let go. Sweat was pouring off him now… but the pressure in his chest slipped, the seizing stopped, and he cried aloud as Sasatomo pulled back, pulled something out of him…. His vision swam for several long moments, and he was barely aware of the muted whispers of Peak’s horror. Osric took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open to see-- A green translucent sphere of a shield hovered above Sasatomo’s palm, and within coiled and swam and unfurled an infinite number of black tendrils… a pulsing and familiar ugliness of smoke that resembled... “What is…? What is that…?!” The arcanist spared him a glance. “No concern of yours.” Sasatomo’s hand balled into a fist, and the sphere shrank… and shrank… and shrank, forcing the darkness into an ever smaller space. Light began to shine as the shield compressed into an infinitesimal point… and then shattered, leaving nothing behind but motes of aether upon the air. The man who’d been Dirk Problemsolver sagged in the grip of his guards as the old man turned and approached the witnesses. Done. It was done. He was a free man again, so to speak. Free to go home... both homes. The officers exchanged words for a few minutes in tones too hushed for him to hear… but at last, Jambert Mulliner walked over and knelt down to look Osric Melkire in the eye. “I’ve a message for you, from Captain Holskstymm Faezsyngson. You remember him, surely.” That elicited a chuckle. “He looked so scandalized….” The captain frowned, but forged on. “Come back to Limsa with me. Stand trial.” Osric blinked and looked up, even as he fought down the indignant fury which left him wanting to spit into Jambert’s face. Stand trial? For what?! For the crimes he’d committed in his misspent youth?! They’d have him hanged! No questions as to his own guilt, they had more than enough witnesses and testimony and evidence! He’d barely survived his own court martial, and that had been rigged! Stand trial?! He fought his wrath down, even as he realized that no one was holding him down any longer and it would be just as easy now to snap Mulliner’s neck as to spit in his face… he fought it down because… ”You fix this! You fix this and you come back home to your family! To the girls! To me!” ...because he’d been wrong so often as of late. He’d been wrong to stand for Morris, he’d been wrong to risk the life of his daughters’ father, he’d been wrong about Haelstyrmm, about Leanne and the others, about S’imba and Yheli and… he’d been wrong, to risk Balther and the old man’s family… and there had been Mercy, for once, in the city-state of Limsa Lominsa… and now…. “...no.” Mulliner looked disappointed, and began to rise-- “Not yet.” The captain stopped and went still. Osric took a deep, shuddering breath, and he went on. “I pay my debts, but… give me some time. Time enough for… for me ‘n’ my family t’heal. Give me a year ‘n’ a sun. Then… I’ll come find you.” Jambert stared down at him… and nodded. “Aye.” And that was that.

"Osric, meet me in Vesper...we need to talk." The Lominsan showed a bell or so later. Gone were all pretenses: he was dressed in little more than a shirt and breeches. He took one look around before walking into the plaza and sitting down on one of the benches with a sigh. To his left sat a male Seeker dressed in rather sparse attire, after the fashion of the Dutiful Sisters. The tia glanced about, perhaps a little nervously, as Osric sat down - almost as though he thinks I was followed - but in the end, they both settled into an uncomfortable, awkward silence. That silence stretched on and on until, at last, S'imba asked... "Did you set me up?" Osric shook his head. "No." "You realize it's difficult to not think that." The Hyuran man glanced at the Seeker and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "What d'you want me t'say? That I took word o' the airship to Haelstyrmm, knowin' that he'd be happy t'let the colony burn? Aye, I took a risk 'n' gambled hundreds o' lives on you, Zanzan, 'n' the rest o' the captains. That I hoped that the commodore would be content t'leave our arrangement intact? Aye, I was a fool, 'n' the sadistic git decided t'pin the fault on the Revenge. That I stood aside when y'consented to be taken in? I'd have fought tooth 'n' nail alongside you if you'd refused, cap'n, the Spot be damned. Had a lead on the bastard what gave it to me anyroad. I'll own my sins, aye, but at least give my due." He frowned down at the cobblestones, breaking eye contact. "...you're a good man, to have taken me in. Good men deserve better than to be betrayed. Did I not pull back from killin' your friend when y'asked me to? For I could've managed it, sure as the sun rises." S'imba took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, began working some stiffness out of his mucles. "Are you in the clear now?" The Lominsan sighed again... but he nodded vigorously. Defendin' Wanngeimdottir against Silverain seems to have kept me in the Maelstrom's good graces." He looked up and smiled a little. "Glad t'see you're alive 'n' still breathin'. Got the Revenge back, or...?" "Yeah... amazingly, Leanne gave her back instead of making me watch her burn it," S'imba said, rubbing his neck. "Those were not the charges I expected to be hit with, though." Osric grunted as he eyed the horizon. "Said she would when she drove the crew t'mutiny. As for the charges... wish you or the others had told me sooner. Was like bein' raked by a ghost-ship that I didn't know was there." "I didn't know those charges were there, either," S'imba said with a growl. "Not exactly ones I'm going to be able to clear my name of." An awkward silence stretched between them again. "You didn't do it, then." "No...the shite with Jenny was some Auri bitch assassin paid off by the Monetarists... framed me for killing her... but I thought the Maelstrom had cleared me for that." Another grunt. "Well... shite. Might not be your first mate anymore, but you're still m'captain and I owe you somethin' fierce. You want or need for anythin', you just ask. Startin' now." "...any ideas what I should do?" S'imba asked, frowning. "Probably would have been better to just have gone quietly." "Aye, but was Silverain what cocked that up, not you. She was slated for the hangman's noose the moment she killed those men. Was mighty glad t'see you drive her over the side 'n' into the drink." Osric leaned back and blew out a breath. "Damnable thing is, we had an entire crew's worth o' witnesses and testimonies. We could've slammed Haelstyrmm. Now... now, I don't rightly know, short of catchin' the real perpetrator what killed Hellfist." "I know who and where the real perpetrator is." The Hyuran man blinked and turned his head to stare at the captain of the Sultana's Revenge. "Then go get 'em. Clear your name. Don't bother anglin' for Hael; best t'get out from under 'n' keep sailin'." "That's kinda the problem....she's through Zanzan's sister-in-law." Osric winced as he sat forward, arms on his thighs. "Your call, there." S'imba looked to the ground miserably. "I was supposed to be an Eorzean hero... now, thanks to Hael, I'm just another filthy pirate." You sound bitter. Good. Best to be bitter. Ain't a damned thing that's fair in this life. Mayhap you'll grow sick o' the taste 'n' hit back. Osric dropped a hand on S'imba's shoulder, though, and squeezed. "No, you're not. Your friends know it. Your crew know it. The folk you save know it. To the hells with the rest." "I guess you're right." The Seeker sighed. "Well...I've officially been a wanted criminal in all three city states now." That won him a chuckle. "Three...? Mayhap you'll try for Ishgard next. Make it four." "Err...no thanks, they're mean to their prisoners." The Hyur nodded. "Fair enough." "So...what are the chances that the rest of the Alliance will come for me?" A shrug. "Slim, if you avoid the city-states proper. Vylbrand's a right coeurl t'get to, what with Maelstrom at every port, but most o' Aldenard's easy enough. Grand Companies tend t'concern themselves with bigger fish. Syndicate's a matter o' greasing with coin. Gridania... don't rightly know. Seem swell for bigoted folk. Point is... Haelstyrmm can point fingers all he likes, but if he starts houndin' for us, it'll look like a vendetta. People'll start askin' questions. He can't afford that." "Well then I should push him into making it a vendetta in a grand plan of revenge of my own." Osric barked a laugh and stood up, offering S'imba a hand. "I'd like t'see that... but Kanaria'd have m'arse." S'imba took the other man's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "Well it seems the only way I'm clearing my name is through Hael... guess that kinda screwed his plans to screw you over though... I'm sure he would have taken us down one at a time, had I actually been arrested... too many loose ends to be floating about." "We would've thought o' something. But no point in bellyachin' over what could've been. We're dealin' with what is, now." They made eye contact. "Give me 'til after the hearin'. Once the Spot's off, I'm free t'help however I can." "I'm sure you'll end up with some deal involving you bringing me back in before they'll remove it." Osric rolled his eyes as he dropped his hands to his hips. "Jus' means I get to helpin' you that much sooner. Thom's near t'gettin' me their roster. They refuse me after the stunt I pulled? I start tearin' through them 'til I get my hands on the man I need." "I like that plan." S'imba smiled, and in that smile was a flash of his old confidence. "Alright, tell me... my escape from justice last night... how would you describe it?" The Lominsan grinned and crossed his arms. "Dashing. Inspiring. Legendary. The dread captain o' the Revenge, savin' a damsel from the gallows by escapin' with her into the Deep! Blessed by Lymlaen 'n' Nymeia, the Sea itself kept him safe and delivered the hero back to his crew o' heroes!" S'imba grinned from ear to ear at that, blushing slightly at the same time. "Well... I tried my best." Osric gave him a thumbs-up, and then pointed at S'imba. "You hold onto our pearl, y'hear? Practically family after all o' this. I'll keep you informed o' goin' ons, and if you ever need somewhere t'lie low, you're welcome with us." "I'll keep that in mind," the tia said, returning the thumbs-up. "I may just come lie low, just to get something to eat." His former first mate nodded. "We're in the Goblet. Ward Twelve. Also own a nice bolthole up in the Beds." Osric turned and walked off, waving a hand in farewell as he glanced over his shoulder and called, "don't be a stranger, we owe you!" "Thanks, Osric!" Don't thank me. Twelve Above, don't thank me. Not for this.

Somewhere on the Deep, within the confines of the gun decks of the Revenge, Osric Melkire sighed as he laid in his hammock and perused a small slip of parchment. Yayabuko Rorobuko KNOWN RELATIVES CURRENTLY SERVING THE MAELSTROM Yayabuki Rorobuki Yayatomo Sasatomo Tarubuko Garubuko Mealvaan’s Gate & Arcanists’ Guild membership lists forthcoming. He scowled, tucked the parchment away, and rolled over to fetch Hihisa’s letter. He owed the woman a response, after all. Elsewhere, far off in the distant Goblet, Pierre Glaisyer slipped into a rather spacious apartment chamber and shut the door behind him in complete and utter silence, so stupefied was he by the sight that awaited him. Papers. Papers everywhere, from being pinned up on the walls to strewn about the floors to littering every visible worksurface. Strings, too. Many strings, leading from one piece of paper to another, in various shades of red and black and blue. The sight of it all was… surreal, to be sure, considering whose apartment this was. “Pierre! I have it!” A bellyful of laughter greeted the Elezen as he rounded the corner of one of the partitions within to find Tengri Geneq waiting for him. His captain was hunched over a desk, furiously writing out what looked to be a short and punctuated letter. As he watched with one eyebrow raised high, the Xaelic man rolled up the letter, tied it with a piece of string, and turned offer the scroll of parchment to Pierre himself. “Deliver this to Summerfield posthaste.” “She’s on a catamaran,” objected the former Ishgardian as he took the letter. “At sea. Ortolf is with her, as you well know. We only just finished trading shifts--" “You speak as if mere oceans pose great difficulty. You are a Crow, are you not?” The demon -- for that’s what they all looked like, to Pierre, each and everyone of them, surely demonic to resemble dragons so -- the demon leaned in close and spread his hands, fingers splayed, as if performing a magic trick. “Fly.”

Scouting as Osric w S'imba please!

..Rommel, you magnificent bastard.

Tengri Geneq for And Now the Storm-Blast Came, please.

“NO! NO, DON’T YOU RUTTIN’ DARE, DON’T YOU-- GET THE SWIVIN’ HELLS--” He twisted his grip. A bone snapped with an audible crack. Someone screamed in pain, even as the bellowing all about him rose in volume to match his. “Keep ‘im still!” “Hold him down, hold the bloody fool--” “Navigator’s Breath!” “--m’arm, sir, he broke--!” “Marauders to the fore!” Some blasted coeurl placed the barrel of a pistol beneath his chin. He wasn’t having any of that. He planted a foot on that someone’s chest and pushed. “--OFF ME!” The unfortunate Seeker went flying into two of his fellows; they collapsed onto the stones, even as the Miqo'te struck the far wall of the cell. The room was well lit, despite the late bell and Menphina’s soft glow… despite the utter lack of a torch. Chakras… his aether… like a beacon. If he could just… he heaved with his right arm, and another three or four links in the chain snapped-- Something tugged at his center, as if someone had reached into his chest and pulled at the very heart of him. What followed was an all-too-familiar sensation, and his eyes widened as he felt it happen, felt his aether leaving him… just as what looked like a half-dozen Sea Wolves surrounded him and bore him down to the floor of his cell. To his knees he dropped and, though he struggled to look up with what strength was left to him, the steel vise of a hand clamped down on his head and kept him from staring anywhere but at the stones. The pain was staggering, and it drove any thought of protest from him; his jaws seized up…. “Please,” he heard, if you’ll just allow us to sedate him--” “No,” answered a booming voice, as if it had risen from the Deep itself. “I’m wantin’ him-- ahem. Pardon. I want him awake for this. A man should know what his folly has cost him.” The distinct sound of someone leafing through several pages. The clearing of a throat. The kindling cadence of words enchanted, incantation or evocation. The press of a hand between his shoulder blades. Cold. Wet. Vile. Something wormed its way into him, found the hollow cavity within him and spread, reaching out through his limbs and up through his neck. Everywhere it went, he felt violated, even as those portions of his flesh and bone grew numb with the cold. The… thing... the intrusion… it sank its fangs and claws in, drank of his blood and his marrow, and what it took of his strength it then used to lay down roots. It settled. Took hold of him. Over him. Bile rose in his throat, and his stomach fell away as reality set in. There had been no mistaking the bastard’s words. ”Give him the Spot.” Footsteps squelched, and he found himself staring down at a pair of enormous boots. The pressure on his head vanished, even as the massive Roegadyn before him dropped to his haunches and seized Osric by the throat. A twist of the Wolf’s wrist brought the Lominsan’s chin up, and his eyes met those of a true jackal. “How did you put it, Problemsolver? Your exact words… ahhhhh, yes, I remember now…..” Commodore Haelstyrmm Eynarhmsson favored him with a smug little smile, but the glint in the officer’s eyes promised endless oceans of suffering. “...'even if I were to never return'.” Osric Melkire’s jaws slackened, his voice came back to him, and he screamed his anguish.

EVE Online is still a thing. Will probably still be a thing for years to come. "MMO" is a pretty loose genre. As mentioned earlier, it's only when viewed as "copy of WoW but not" that the market looks like it's dwindling.

The gales came and went. The view wasn't particularly spectacular: there were glimpses of La Noscea to be had here and there on the fringes, and Limsa itself could be seen down below if he'd but draw close enough to the edge, but otherwise all that could be seen from this vantage was ocean. Think. Think! He sat towards the back of the relatively small recess in the marble tower, a small rucksack of spare clothes at his side. Not for fear of heights was he this far back, mind, though his shelter was hundreds of fulms up from sea level... but out of respect for the cold. He sat huddled in the grey rags that passed for his cloak, the very same rags that had served to conceal him as he scaled Limsa's beauty. Seven summers... a little more than that, aye, that's when he'd last resorted to this alcove. He'd witnessed the Calamity from this hollow. Liadan Summerfield... Tiergan 'n' Lurial Vashir... Gallien Vyese... 'n' W'chaza Yheli... damn you to the seventh hell for gettin' me dragged further down into the ruttin' Deep, Tengri. He shouldn't have cared. It shouldn't have mattered that a man was going to hang. He'd gotten Thomys out, had pulled his own brother from the fire. He should've been long gone. What he was considering wasn't worth the risk. He had two daughters that were depending on him, and Kanaria... it'd break her heart if he were to never return. But Morris-- "Don't want to die." "Did they?" --Dominic swived-by-the-Twelve Morris was another man in the wrong place at the wrong time, by all accounts. Osric himself had once been in a similar position, although his had been of his own making. He'd been shown Mercy. Here, an opportunity to pay that debt forward... and now came Nald 'n' Thal for their due. He wasn't sure if they had the evidence and the arguments to clear the man. He was certain that they didn't have the time to collect and gather more, especially not after he'd wasted the better part of two nights vandalizing the white towers of Limsa to get the locals asking questions and to get the old deckhands asking them of the Upright Thieves. He might've... been a little more patriotic and a little too... loose... with the insults and slurs that had survived long into the morning bells, but that didn't matter now. What mattered was enough political maneuvering to spare Morris and Striker the gallows, to spare themselves the ire of all of Limsa, and to spare his own gods-cursed self the Justice that he'd eluded for the better part of a decade. It could be said that he had a talent for that sort of thing. THINK, DAMN YOU!

Tupsimati is heavily implied to be a necessary component for casting the sealing spell. It's why Papalymo asked for it back in 3.4 after learning of the rumors that the Resistance was preparing to summon a primal.