Melkire

I'd like to hit up Othard at some point between Ala Mhigo and Garlemald. But yes, Ala Mhigo next. That would be lovely.

Merry Month of May! About to embark on new FC plotlines/narratives. Still recruiting. We've been in a bit of a PvE grind lately as we try and prepare for the touchdown of 3.0 in a little more than a month. Heavensward! ...we might be doing someone with Ishgard. We'll see. :bouncy:

Ride the recoil, Nancy. EDIT: And before someone asks, no, these were not meant to be accurate at range, they were meant to put a bullet in someone at close range. Served as a surprise that could save your life. Best make it count, because in the words of one immortal pirate, "You've got one shot, Jaaaaaaack."

Nine, ten, eleven… twelve feet. Six pairs. One, two, three, four, five bandits filed out of the mouth of the tunnel that let out in an alley off Sapphire, near Thal’s Gate. Not one of them spared a backwards glance for the stone archway, so intent were they on their destination, and that was why not a one of them noticed the ragged bundle of wool, roughly the size of a man, tucked away into one shaded corner. Thank the Twelve for Bellveil and these rags o’ his. Man has Althyk’s own blasted luck. Right time, right pl- The last padded footfalls were softer, quieter. His eyes widened as he doffed the woolen robe and turned the corner in a single fluid motion in time to strike out with his left fist, the knuckles of his first two fingers extended just enough to catch the surprised Miqo’te in the throat. She choked as she staggered back, her free hand instinctively reaching for her throat. Mistake. He twisted his hip and kneed her in the gut, winding her, then seized her throat, locked one foot behind hers and tripped her, drove her back into the darkness and slammed her down onto the cobblestones. Her blade flew from her grasp at the impact and went clattering across the stones. Melkire winced, listening as he held the female pinned beneath him. A cacophony of scuffling and yelling and clashing greeted him, above which sounded out a single tenor voice. He listened closer and grinned savagely as he recognized what he was hearing: a corporal directing his troops, the clash of shield up against shield as they opened up just long enough for an enterprising private to strike out, the desperate cries and bellows of bandits denied organization. He chuckled. I’m long gone and they’re still drillin’ the hogwash I sold ‘em on. He turned his attention back to the woman as she settled. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly up towards the heavens. Her ears didn’t twitch. Her tail didn’t shift. He sighed. In his zeal, he’d likely crushed her windpipe. “Shite. Mikh'a’s goin’ to be pissed. Gregson!” He stood and walked back out the archway, readjusting his turban as he went, in time to spot a burly Roegadyn woman dressed in Immortal Flame blues bash her shield against the side of a highlander’s skull. Down he went, the last of the bandits, and Melkire snorted. “Gregson,” he called out again, eyes roving over the assembled for his fellow midlander. “Get on the pearl, tell Peak we caught this one cold. Still another half dozen or so places they might come up again.” The bastards had already gotten through twice, though the Immortal Flames that Burning Peak had strewn through the crowds, dressed discreetly as they were, had managed to put them down before the casualties had risen above a few merchants’ stalls, their goods, and a handful of privates. Civilians, thankfully, had been kept out of harm’s way. Osric took another spare moment to glance up at the rooftops that divided Sapphire from Pearl. Smoke. One large column of smoke. That had started less than a bell ago, following a roll of thunderous roars more akin to a Dravanian Horde than to… whatever it had been. Best still be breathin’, Korofi. And you’d best keep him that way, Grimsong.

Since folks started talking about polearm styles from other video games, I figure Hilde from Soul Calibur is obligatory. [video=youtube]

A man could easily lose himself in the press of bustling crowds that frequented the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, and this sun was little different. Peddlers pitched their wares, mothers scolded their children, fathers and brothers found themselves parting with precious coin for the sake of a moon’s amusement or two, and shadows grew longer as the bells marched ever onward. One such shadow in particular parted from the veritable sea of bodies as the midlander to whom it belonged stepped away from a stall to collapse onto a nearby bench. Moments later, he was joined by a rather large Hellsguard. The big man glanced around, huffed a breath, and sat down next to the Hyur. “What is that?” “The latest in fashion, Peak,” answered the midlander from beneath his vestment. “…it’s a rug.” “It’s not a rug, it’s a tapestry! Please appreciate the difference.” The Roegadyn turned a raised eyebrow on him and leaned away for dramatic effect. “So you’re wearing a tapestry.” “…look, cloaks ‘n’ robes ain’t easy t’pinch when you’ve only one workin’ arm, alright? Twelve Above, cut me some slack.” Burning Peak snorted as he rested his arms on his thighs. “Only enough to hang yourself with, Melkire. How goes?” “They’re nearly finished clearin’ them out by now.” The man beneath the tapestry shifted slightly. “Hope your men ‘n’ women are in place. I’d hate t’lose eyes on our ‘friends,’ and we might need more muscle if all the hells break loose.” “We’re in place. As for Randolph, you told me you and yours would handle the… ah… situation.” “And next you’ll be tellin’ me you keep all your apkallu eggs in one basket.” “Make the call.” There came a low chuckle and the brush of leather on cotton as the midlander shifted again. One arm rose as he reached for his ear, his left hand discernable through the bright red-and-green fabric. “Dauntless, we’re in for a poor harvest, I repeat, we are in for a poor harvest.”

It's been posted before, elsewhere, by a number of people far more versed than I in lore, but it comes down to this: Conjury is borrowing the power you need to cast spells from the world around you. Key word is "borrow". You essentially allow yourself to be a conduit for aether that is not yours, and you channel the energy given to you in the form of a spell. White Magic takes this a step further in that the individual accesses Succor (whether the Elementals grant/loan them access or the individual learns how to access Succor in a manner that is forbidden through Amdapori texts comes down to individual cases). Thaumaturgy is using your own aether to power your spells, using the gems in rods/staffs as focii. Arcanima works in a similar fashion: the arcanist provides the aether, and the geometries shape the spells rather than focii. Black Magic is forcibly stealing/ripping the aether from the land in order to fuel tremendously destructive feats that are shaped in a similar fashion to thaumaturgy. The process is the same, but the fuel source differs. This is actually harmful to Hydaelyn/the planet.

Very interesting link. Is there a version for males too? I wanted to do the test for Jet'a, but most of questions seem to apply just for females. The test linked above is for characters of all gender & sexual identities. The usage of "xe" and "xir" are basically stand-ins for "he, her, it" and "his, her, its".

For me, Dresden Files. The books, not the TV adaptation (which was horrible and not true to the books at all, btw). Paul Blackthorne though. Love that man. Great actor when his accent isn't bleeding through. They truly are. :lol:

I'm a Garlean that uses magic. A pure-blooded Garlean. Fight me. I read this a few times. Then I read it again. Is this serious? Forgive me for not being in the know. I actually want to know! https://wiki.ffxiv-roleplayers.com/pages/Rotunda_Crow The wiki entry is about seven months out of date, but the character is still around.

I'm a Garlean that uses magic. A pure-blooded Garlean. Fight me. I moonlight as a deceased Garlean major who was resurrected when a dark ritual ripped his soul back from the void and shoved it into a corpse alongside the soul of a hedonistic scion of House Dartancours, thereby creating what is, in effect, an undead zombie-esque smoke monster worthy of LOST with an eye that see a person's aether, a telepathic connection linking said zombie to others of his ilk in a manner reminiscent of a hivemind, and the difficult-to-explain gift of setting aflame any metal he might touch (FIRE SWORDS, F*** YEAH). Oh, and he bleeds a black ooze that resembles oil. I completely understand that many folks will not want to RP anywhere near this character, and would rather pretend this character doesn't exist. That's fine with me. EDIT: Kadaj's quote was more in reference to himself and Cloud both existing as a legacy of mako experimentation. Can we avoid derailing posts, please? <3

IC, any and all implications that Immortal Flames are law enforcement. IC and OoC, this gets my goat most frequently: "Masked turbans are for Brass Blades, not Immortal Flames." ... /stares at all the Immortal Flame NPCs all over Thanalan who wear colored variations of the Sipahi Turban

Ilberd, you magnificent bastard! I want to read your book!

Pitch for Warren: Square-Enix clarifies in new lore dump that the Coliseum is the only Syndicate-sanctioned fighting arena and that all other tournaments have long since been outlawed throughout Thanalan, thereby effectively retconning the Grindstone out of existence as far as headcanon goes. What would Warren be doing instead? I'd throw a pitch at everyone who's ever posted in this thread but I'm at work, don't have the time, and I feel like Warren cheated his way out of a real answer in his original post. I challenge everyone to try and answer the prompt, though.

So to pose the writing prompt to you: Let's say Square-Enix retcons out the old 1.0 lore regarding vengeance orders. Or maybe they expand on the lore and a mention comes up that Duskwight Elezen are not and have never been accepted into the Immortal Flames due to rampant racism. How would you handle adjustments to your character, their history, your headcanon, etc.?

How do we define "slightly"? The degree of modification will vary drastically with each case. Are we condemning certain degrees of lore-bending because they require significant overhauling/retooling to bring them back into line with each new lore dump?

I've had this happen once before. Matters between certain characters got heated, the folks on one side of the divide weren't upset OoC at all... but it turned out that the confrontation actually did upset, OoC, those on the other side of the IC dispute, largely because said confrontation turned nasty in a way that "triggered" them, to use the contemporary term. It was a landmine that most of us weren't aware of. It took some time for them to recover, and some OoC discussion to reassure the folks in question that we weren't genuinely upset OoC, that we'd merely been playing the parts of our characters. Even now, I don't think that message sunk in as well as expected, because it's still awkward running into and/or conversing with said folk. Shit happens.

Quite a few of us have had this happen already, what with Limsa RP leading to world-building and vice-versa long before 2.4 dropped the Rogues' Guild and associated lore on us. Not wholly unexpected, to have our various headcannons kicked out from under us, and - as far as dealing with it goes - it was something we'd knowingly signed up for. That said, it was still a kick in the gut. Some folks retconned, some folks adjusted backstories and current RP, some folks handwaved, some folks ignored it completely, some are still utterly clueless about the contradictions that now exist between lore and their own RP since they haven't done the Rogue class quests yet... I think if you poll people who roleplay(ed) Lominsan characters or characters who spend a lot of time in Limsa, you'd get back a wide variety of approaches that run the whole gamut.

You realize that this means Zantetsuken is going to seek you out and claim you now, right?

Kudos to Vaugh Antain, Angora Khilo, and Syrress Detilderan for taking the edge off of CT weekly last night. Wonderful folk, loved running with you! ...note to self, be mentally prepared next time for Syress to pull by running straight into Vassagos. ;D

I'm inspired. Osric to Crofte, figuratively:

I HAD FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT TOMBLEWEED ; A ;

[Moderator Hardhat] Thread does say "Dark Knights" and not "Dragoons," nor do dragoons seem in any way inherently connected or linked to Dark Knights. Let's try to stay on-topic. Dankeschon. [/Moderator Hardhat]

Because no one else was visibly playing such in a competent manner at the time. On a more serious note, I was putzing about Limsa during my MSQ grind on Osric, long before I'd conceived a backstory for him, when I saw someone wearing the Flame Private's Jerkin. That was the first time I'd ever seen that piece of gear. I wanted to wear it. I read up on it. Learned it was a Grand Company exclusive, as in I had to make my character an Immortal Flame in order to wear it. So I did just that and then threw together an outfit/costume to go with the jerkin. Once I had my aesthetic, I went, "Oh shit, I need to justify why he's wearing this. Uh. He'd have to be an Immortal Flame. Why's he an Immortal Flame? Where'd he come from?" So I started answering all the various questions that popped into my head. He became a career soldier to get away from his OG thuglyfe past. Okay, that's no big stretch, happens to folks IRL all the time. So where'd he come from, where was he running from? City made the most sense, you wouldn't need to run so far as the military if you were out in the boonies. Three cities, Ul'dah was the destination... maritime city of pirates has so much more potential and opportunity for scum and villainy and shady pasts than Do-Gooder Forest Village Full of Racists. So he was from Limsa. What'd he do in Limsa that was so bad? Contract assassin. Okay so if he was an assassin, his skills would then include.... From that train of thought came the knife-loving nut who got into bar brawls and street fights that gradually transitioned into a soldier trained to use his own body as the ultimate weapon. It all flowed downstream from, "hey this piece of gear looks cool, I wanna wear it". EDIT: Damn you, Warren, my post is relevant!

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