Melkire

[align=center] "There is still a façade to maintain. For now, we must endure."[/align] .

[align=center]First we gonna ROCK Then we gonna ROLL Then we let it POP Go, let it GO [/align]

Please please please let Shadows of Mhach take place in Yafaem Saltmoor. It's one of the few regions in Aldenard beyond Gyr Abania and Xelphatol that we're still missing. Hyped on behalf of all our ladies friends for the possibility that other regions will be getting the currently region-locked glamour pieces.

I don't know why this is still questioned. The level 50 to 60 GSM quests deal almost exclusively with you crafting a music box for a client. That's in-game lore. That's not something from a Hildibrand quest, it's not funny mail text referencing prior Final Fantasy titles, it's not "you shell out gil for aetheryte expenses even when you teleport to Anyx Trine". There are canonical music boxes crafted by goldsmiths in Ul'dah. Audio recording and playback exist, canonically, within the FFXIV 'verse. Within Eorzea, even, without any magitek or Garlean or Allagan technology. ...now, if the question is, "are the exact tracks, the ones we get to play as background music via the Orchestrion, canon?" then the answer is probably "no" with a possible "unless they are dissociated in-universe from their corresponding places and events out-of-universe" caveat. Exceptions goes to silliness such as PA PAYA, PA PA PA PA PA PA PA PA PAYA~

Coordination difficulties between what are essentially 24 random players of disparate skill levels. In such a scenario and in such an environment, the "safe" option is almost always preferable to the "efficient/optimal" option. It's not as though World of Darkness is cutting-edge progression where you need to eke out every point of damage possible in a certain time frame. tl;dr: unrestrained doggy scary doggy, will wipe bads for food.

Sons of Saint Coinach Report Unusual Sighting of Large Unidentified Black Dome near the Crystal Tower. Transluscent Dome Vanished Soon After. No Aetheric Signatures were Registered, Local Practitioners Baffled. Kraken Attacks Continue to Ravage Seafaring Vessels. Maelstrom-sanctioned Ships Unaffected, Targets By and Large are Garlean in Origin. Survivors Claim "Giant Flying Octopus Carried Off Shipments" Intended for Regional Castra.

Pulled straight from the RPC Wiki's page on the Twelve (no credit listed, unfortunately; I'd love if someone could come forward and confirm where this came from): This other diagram from Gamerscape is a bit more interesting, considering that someone went through the effort of indicating whether each deity falls under an Astral or Umbral moon: I'll have to step back and allow others to fill folks in on lore re: the Twelves' relationships with one another. That said, some interesting things to note: Nald'thal is actually two distinct deities - the twin brothers Nald and Thal - who are revered and worshiped as a single manifestation. This is hardly the first time we've seen such a thing in fictional mythology, let alone real mythology. Tolkien's Lorien and Mandos come to mind. When considered in this light, the Twelve is actually a misnomer: Nald and Thal make the count Thirteen. This is also in keeping with most fictional mythologies, considering the superstitions surrounding the number 'thirteen' and its common association with god(s) and/or goddess(es) of death.... which, HEY, happens to be Thal. The last king of Ala Mhigo - Theodoric, the King of Ruin - attempted to justify his right to rule by claiming that such was divinely decreed by Nymeia. Erik, the scholar (lowercase 'S') who relays this to us in-game, actually notes that Nymeia is wife to Rhalgr. That has some... interesting implications, considering how all the diagrams we have list the Destroyer as servant/attendant to the Spinner. Theodoric went on to ban any mention or depiction of Rhalgr and the others of the Twelve in order to promote Nymeia and therefore his own supremacy to the Fist of Rhalgr, a powerful religious organization. The fallout from that would have been rather fascinating to observe, considering all the various minutiae and interplay between wife & husband / mistress & attendant / master & servant.

"Tengri Geneq needs no introduction. Now go on. He's waiting for you. Tengri Geneq needs no introduction. If you're not of a mind to hear him out, you may take your leave if you so wish. I have been instructed to let you pass. Tengri Geneq needs no introduction." Those words rippled across her thoughts, an echo of mere moments ago which threatened to unhinge her. Her heart raced, as though bound to break free of her chest. She swallowed, held her grimoire tight against her side, and stepped up to the corner. She’d come to the Atheneum Astrologicium in search of a certain text. Aqua Vitae and Its Common Uses. She needed that tome, no matter how much she wished to run. A recent outbreak of disease here in Ishgard had left many bedridden in its wake, and House Sauveterre was relying upon her and her friends to deliver a cure. She glanced back at the Elezen behind her. Pierre. This had to be Pierre. He was still smiling as though he had not a care in the world. Innocent looking fellow, for someone who’d manipulated and maneuvered her with such ease to bring her to this place, to this moment. "Ahhh,I do so happen to know of such a text,” he’d said, ”and where a copy might be found! Alas, I believe a friend of mine borrowed it from this very establishment not two nights ago!" She took her lower lip between her teeth and held it there as she considered her options, recalled the warnings and recommendations of her husband. Jasper chirped from his perch on her shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at Pierre, steeled herself, and turned. Kanaria Melkire peered around the corner of the Atheneum. The first thought that struck her was how very tall he was. Then his horns registered, and then his outlandish hair. His tail swung like a pendulum, from one side to the other, as though counting the passing seconds, minutes, bells. She couldn’t help but wonder at the contrast, couldn’t help but remember the man as she’d once known him. Old. Grey. Desperate. Spiteful. There was no trace now of the man they’d once cornered, so long ago, in one of the many alleyways which branched off from Pearl Lane. In his place stood… someone else. He stood against the stone exterior of the structure behind him, rifling through the pages of a rather small tome. Disinterest was evident on his face, as though he were quite familiar… and quite bored... with the contents. “Ser Tengri….” "Lady Melkire. Apologies for intruding upon your personal affairs.” She eyed the tome. Was that it…? "I-it's quite alright." It wasn’t, but manners and etiquette demanded the bold-faced lie. "I believe th-there was a reason for that..." The pads of her fingers, covered though they were with her gloves, curled and pushed against her grimoire. "I guess now it can't be helped as you've something I'm in need of...." He eyed her back. "I would not resort to crude measures if our shared history would leave me some other recourse. Alas, mistrust is difficult to overcome." "You did this on purpose then..." Her eyes drifted from him to the book. "Is that what I am looking for, then?" She raised her right hand, her attention back on him, and pointed at the tome he held. She kept her distance for now. He held it up and snapped it shut. The cover clearly read ’Aqua Vitae and its Common Uses’. "It is." Her eyes drifted back to the book. "Dare I ask what your price is Ser Tengri…?" "A few moments of your time, a few words between us, and an answer to a question." "You've my ears, and an answer if I have one…." He grinned and beckoned her closer. "Would you at least step out of plain sight? I do not care for eavesdroppers. Pierre is competent but not all-powerful." Kanaria looked to the left, over the railing that stood but a few fulms from the Atheneum’s exterior, and moved a little closer to him. Tengri raised an eyebrow at the bluebird as he pecked his way into her flaxen mane, but the Geneq said nothing. He looked back to her with a slow nod. "You must understand that others have negotiated on your behalf. So long as your husband cooperates, I cannot and will not touch you, nor will any of my servants. So long as Korofi upholds his end of our mutual understanding, then your friends and family will also share the aegis of my good will. Are we clear?" She eased a little and nodded. Osric had relayed to her as much, but even so trust was hard to come by. "We are clear." "Good. Then I must ask you for the answer to but a single question. That answer is why I am here. I require complete and brutal honesty, upon which rests our best chance of ridding ourselves of a mutual source of strife, grief, and sorrow. Is this acceptable to you? Knowing that, should you choose to not answer honestly, or should you prove incapable of doing so, you might doom us all?" She sucked in a cold breath and let it out slowly. Her lavender hues looked across the way as her left hand settled upon on the railing. "I believe I know what you are speaking of... " "No." The response came immediately, in a flat tone of voice. "Answer the question." She blinked at him, somewhat startled, and he smiled for her, as though to put her at ease. “Say rather,” he went on, “answer my first question so that I can then ask you the important question." "...I'll answer to the best of my knowledge." He nodded again. "Jin'li Epinoch has been obsessed with you for a long time. If not since the day I sent him to you and your friends in Drybone to relay my demands, then very nearly so. Why?" Kanaria tilted her head and her eyes widened. The heat rose in her cheeks a little. "Heh… that's an easy answer." She turned to face the street below. "I am...'kind,' though perhaps not in the manner he claims. I love too much and ask little... I can see good in people where others cannot…." He grunted. "Some advice for you, then. Were I in your shoes, I would listen, and listen well.” "Hmm?" Her lavender eyes tracked back to him as he pushed himself upright. "It took time. It took pain. It took blood, and toil, and sweat, and more blood. He hates me all the more now for that necessity, for forcing the words out of him, but in the end, your husband told me." He looked her in the eyes as he settled the small tome into the crook of one arm.. "He told me you could not pull the trigger alone." Her fingers curled into her palms as she tensed and looked away, averting her gaze, her guilt plain on her face. "I could not…." "You should know that I cannot anticipate the circumstances. I am trying... but I cannot, in truth, prepare for the worst. I can only prepare for the worst that I can expect. I cannot know to whom will fall the opportunity - a moment in time, a sliver of the Keeper's realm in which to decide. Should that chance fall to you, Lady Melkire... should Fate and Fortune choose you, I must know that you can and will pull the trigger. You must know that, if you cannot, you are a hindrance and a liability to anyone and everyone you hold dear. Should you hesitate and should you fail, you and I will lose everything." Tengri Geneq, once Adin Adonis, narrowed his eyes at her. "You are better off deciding now... preparing now... for that moment. Hesitation is the doom I spoke of." She licked and purse her lower lip as she crossed her arms. She listened, heard him well... perhaps a little too well. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "I can't this time... I know what I have to do." She shook her head slowly. "I will not fail. There's too much at stake..." Her fingers grasped her arm tighter as she spoke… an unconscious gesture which was not missed. He turned to regard the thoroughfare, as she had. “You say you are 'kind'. That is both strength and weakness. Where Epinoch is concerned... where his dangerous, lethal, 'avatar of the void' self is concerned... kindness is no strength. Love is no strength. Compassion is no strength. These are weakness, and weakness only, and they will be exploited. I will not fail because a mere wisp of a girl has a soft heart," he sneered. "If you are truly the woman I recall... a woman of strength... then you will find the fire and steel within you to prove yourself worthy of your husband... and you will not need a suit of mail with which to do so.” Kanaria’s hand broke free and slapped the stone railing as her eyes shot back up to him, her silent tears trailing down her cheeks. "I know what I need to do." Her soft voice was harsh. "I've too much to lose, I am not going to let him win. I cannot!" Tengri glared out over the empty street for a moment... and then set the tome he held down atop the railing in front of him. "I want you to remember how you’re feeling right now. I want you to recall this moment when opportunity arrives. And I want you to fire." He tapped the cover of the tome. "This is yours now. Good day, Galanodel." Her gaze slipped to the book and she took a step forward. "Melkire... please... I'm sure you'd dislike it if I called you by your other name." "Assumptions are dangerous," he said. He moved to vault the railing, and as he did so a serpentine trail of smoke shot around the corner, plucked him from midair, and carried him off into the far distance. She stared after him, somewhat surprised to see a man in full plate vault anything of note, much less a waist-high railing, and somewhat astonished to witness for the first time that which she’d heard so much about for so long. She stepped forward and claimed the tome. By the time she emerged from the shadows, Pierre… the Crow… was gone.

Both Linkshell Hall and the Directory of Contacts for New Players will be cleaned out on 04-01-2016 (April 1st). Any and all Linkshell, Free Company, and/or Personal Listings that do not have a recent post from an officer or original poster made between February 1st and March 31st will be archived. If you have a thread that becomes archived, please notify a moderator/admin via PM to the group, post here, or report the thread for a un-archive and it can be unarchived. Previous threads about cleaning will be closed. Do note that LS/FC entries may lose their special tabs (and the information in them) because the content is not always savable by archive. Important: To prevent archival in the Linkshell Hall, a post from February 1st (or later) is required. Editing of the original post will not trigger an update to the last_post date, which is used to judge activity. Thank you!

First up thanks for the response but is the Void really devoid of aether? It doesn't seem likely just from looking at the Ascians and the vast amount of voidsent that use magic, plus from the chrysalis trial it looks to be brimming with a dark form of aether. So unless the Ascians, the Voidsent and perhaps even the Void itself drains aether from elsewhere to fuel their abilities it just doesn't seem very likely. I'm not basing that on anything other than my own logic so feel free to prove me wrong. Again thanks for the replies :love: The Void is literally devoid of aether. I can't find the quote atm, but I want to say that is stated in the game directly. That is exactly why the aether-starved voidsent try to get to the physical plane, especially Eorzea, which is basically flooded with aether. Of course, aether has to travel between Hydaelyn and the Aetherstream, as shown in a cutscene when the Scions are discussing the echo and summoning. (The Ascians are actually not voidsent though. They are something else entirely. This is touched upon in content with Moenbryda). Slight correction: between Hydaeylyn and the aetherial sea. Hydaelyn <-> Void <-> Aetherial Sea When you start talking about the Lifestream, things get... trickier.

Mistake on our parts. MIDLANDER, not highlander. I have since edited my post. I think it's entirely plausible that the main character of 2.x/3.x is still the main character of 1.x (qualifying as both a Warrior of Light and as as a Twelvesblade) while still being a distinct individual from Derplander.

This has actually been called into question since 3.1 MSQ. There's a strong correlation between the Warrior of Darkness and the midlander gentleman we've been following since early 1.0 cutscenes. Even his allies correspond to said cutscenes - Lalafell White Mage, Roegadyn Paladin, etc. It's entirely possible that "Derplander" is, instead, a failed Warrior of Light through canonical alternate universe / time travel shenanigans... unless we are positing that the canonical Warrior of Light looks identical to the Warrior of Darkness, which is not the case (if it was, the Archons would have pointed it out).

"Cordoned off, they said. Crawling with Alliance types, they said. Grand Companies. Bah," grumbled a tall Auri male as he ascended the steps. Sarangerel glanced backwards over her shoulder. She gave him a brief smile and then returned her focus to the woman who stood amidst the beauty of the central garden of Wineport. Tengri stopped in his tracks and glanced between the women, crossing his arms as he did so. Edda Eglantine drummed her fingers against stone. She glanced between the two Geneq. "...that is something, is it not," she said quietly, as though speaking to herself. She called out a bit louder, "Then why have you come? Those that bear that name live quite some distance from here." Sarangerel lofted a brow beneath her bangs. "Reports that a lady was in the vicinity," called back the new arrival. "We've some business to discuss that may or may not border on impropriety. We certainly hope that it does not." There was a sick… presence… to the Hyuran woman. Something aetherial. Off-putting. Dense. Repelling. Tengri narrowed his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Edda Eglantine looked to the man and her brow creased. "I see. That's quite a trick." She paused and turned to face them. "What may I do for you, then?" "We've questions, and you've answers. An item was loaned, and I for one would like to know whether it has seen any use... or whether it ever shall." Tengri seated just beyond the grass, atop the stone of the terrace. Eglantine regarded him carefully and was silent for some time. "...you seem harried. Is aught amiss?" The man’s sister placed a delicate hand upon his shoulder. “Much is amiss,” he answered. “Such is the nature of chaos, whether or not order lies beneath it." He took a few moments to breathe. "You are Edda Eglantine, yes? The new look suits you." Tengri snorted as he considered the long lengths of hair that made her resemble Liadan Summerfield. "Or perhaps I've grown accustomed to that mode and style." Edda looked away for a moment with a sly look, down towards the ground. She reached to pluck a singular flower close to her feet and inspected it idly. "What gave me away?" There was the shadow of a smirk on her face, but it was not readily apparent - as if something were holding it back. "Besides the tail I've had on you for the past several moons?" The man shrugged. "I did mention impropriety." She didn't seem very perturbed. "He must have done so at great distance." Sarangerel's lips curled slightly into a knowing smirk. Tengri Geneq looked down towards the ground with a sly look of his own. His eyes darted to and fro between the various shadows... those of the trees, those of the flowers, those of the people. "In a manner of speaking... not quite, no. But that is irrelevant." He looked back up at her. "The stone -- and the choice that accompanied it -- were yours. I've come a long way to learn whether you mean to set it aside, to dismiss it as an idle bauble... or to peruse its secrets and allow those secrets to stimulate growth. I am invested, as you recall. A favor owed. Regardless of your... personal affairs." Edda looked up from her flower. "Yes, I remember well." She looked straight at Tengri, her expression perfectly neutral. "Your investment I understand. But what will you do, if I have set it aside or otherwise? Kill me and reclaim it?" "Of course not." He looked offended. "Do I seem a ruffian? I would ask that you see it returned to its original owner. Perhaps he might pass it on to another. Perhaps he might convince you that the journey will be worthwhile. Who can say? Not I." She pursed her lips. "That is a strangely lax attitude for one so invested, as you said. It is not something that is easily replaced, should it be thrown away." Sarangerel spoke up at last. "You are familiar with the value of such items. I'm sure you would not have tossed it aside." "No, of course not." "Then I do not consider the item lost, nor the investment a poor one,” said Tengri. “There are still opportunities for returns." "I do not wish to return it just yet." "Ah….” The Auri woman eyed Edda. “So you are still trying to make a decision." "Reach," corrected her brother absentmindedly. "Reach a decision." Her lips pursed into a thin line as she glanced down at Tengri. "Reach." . Edda twirled the stem of the flower between her fingers before discarding it casually. "I suppose so. It should have been apparent from the outset that I could not be suited for such an item, though not for lack of trying... I have learned more than I would have normally, I believe, and at the very least, it has granted me an escape." Tengri Geneq nodded slowly. "I know of at least one other who believes you ill-suited. I am inclined to disagree, of course, but time will tell." He narrowed his eyes. "Escape is good. Think you perhaps that there might be more, given the aforementioned time?" Sarangerel tilted her head slightly at the woman and lofted a brow. "It sounds to me like you have 'reached' a decision. Are you not willing to return a favor for such? Escape is something you wanted, yes?" Tengri smiled. "She has a point." Edda Eglantine looked at Tengri in thought, and bit her lip. Her gaze moved to the small woman. "So, it is a favor you want," she said softly. "Now?" Sarangerel smiled. "Aye, but not now, soon…." "A fortnight,” interjected Tengri. “Perhaps a moon. Perhaps several. But surely within a cycle… friends of yours are also invested, if that matters." "Such as?" "Deneith was quite concerned." He grinned at the Eglantine. Edda frowned. "About what?" "You. The favor you owe." She scoffed and looked away. "I find that hard to believe," she said darkly. Her hair fell to obscure her face from them, and she went quite still. The Geneq looked smug. "Perhaps you should speak with her yourself." She made a face. "Should she want to." A pause. Then, quieter, "And that will not last long." Tengri glanced up at Sarangerel. "Life has its moments, its queer turns." Edda Eglantine stared off into nothing and sighed. "Then would we be correct in surmising that your answer, at present, is a tentative 'yes'? You've a use for what you've been given?" She glanced back to the two Geneq. She seemed very far away, very.. distant. "I do," she said quietly. Tengri rose to his feet. "Then I am content." She looked away again. “Should any further contact be required,” he went on, “I believe I shall send you Sarangerel. She's far less conspicuous than I.” Edda side-eyed the woman. "You are both rather conspicuous. But that should suffice, yes." She paused and licked her lips. "...tell me, how many others have you involved in this?" "Many. Five have I Gifted." The emphasis on that last word was apparent in his voice. Edda nodded to Tengri and chose not to make chase of that subject. "I can be rather inconspicuous when I need to be,” offered his sister into the awkward silence. "Put a large enough hat over her head and the horns all but disappear," he muttered in agreement. Sarangerel Geneq shifted her gaze up to Tengri with a look that could kill. He seemed oblivious. "Oh." Edda looked to the woman. "It is not the horns. Not really." "The tails, then?" Edda gave Tengri a look of clear disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous. It is your--” "Eyes," supplied his sister. “--yes. Not a very common trait among your kind, I imagine." Tengri shook his head. “Not common at all, no. We are quite the unique pair, we two." Sarangerel nodded. "Aye." "So it would seem…." He stared at her. "Have you any further questions, Lady Eglantine, ere we depart?" Edda shook her head. "No. Forgive me, for making you track me down to so remote a location." She didn't look very sorry, but then, it seemed as though she'd been reduced to three expressions. She turned to Sarangerel. "I trust I shall see you again, sooner rather than later." Tengri Geneq shrugged his shoulders, is if to dismiss the notion that these two went to any trouble at all, as his sister bowed to the woman and said, "Of course, Miss Eglantine." "Come, Sarangerel. We've more business elsewhere. A good sun to you, miss." Edda Eglantine looked away. She leaned against the stone once more and stared off into the distance.

"Tis yet another monument." Deneith flicked a glance over her shoulder, tearing her attention from the dimly lit tower on the east end of the western highlands. "A deserted one, at that. I did not expect company when I came upon this place." There came the distinct crunch of large man’s weight upon the snow as the newcomer stepped forward with a nod, his eyes roaming up and down the tower. "There are men and women who are expected... and there are those who aren't. The latter tend towards hanger-ons... but there are some who benefit from, let us say, discretion." She turned to get a better look upon the warrior -- an Au Ra. Another Xaela. She looked him over once, her expression and voice remaining neutral. "Should I know you?" "No, you should not," he all but purred. "We have passed each other by on a few occasions, you and I... like strangers through a marketplace." He looked back at her and grinned. "But do you? Do you have you an inkling? Any insight at all?” Deneith's eyes narrowed, the indifferent countenance giving way to one of wariness. "I do not. I know not many of your kind." She exhaled, her breath pluming before her nose. "But I have a feeling you are about to educate me." She uncrossed her arms, her gauntleted hand coming to hang closer to her sword. That elicited a laugh from him. "You were given a choice. You've not yet come to a decision. That is my purpose here. Your education... well, suffice to say that I am not inclined to spewing diatribe without cause." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "A ‘yea’ or ’nay’ from you is all that I require. Then I am gone from this place." She said nothing for a moment, but she broke her gaze as her thoughts raced through her memories. She blinked and looked back at him. "I was told to ask for a gift. From Thal." She arched a brow. "Are you here to listen to that prayer?" He grinned at Deneith, then straightened and sauntered up to her, his eyes sliding back to the tower. He passed her by, caring not a whit for the hand near the hilt. He ascended the steps and paused. Roen Deneith 's fingers flexed when he neared, but as he passed she made no move for the sword. She continued to stare at his back. "So you know Sergeant Melkire." "Aaaaand now the cogs turn." "He made no mention of you." "As instructed." He frowned as he glanced over his shoulder. "Alas, perhaps that was a mistake." Roen Deneith crossed her arms, her jaw set. "If you found me, and know the words exchanged between the Sergeant and I, then you have me at a disadvantage." "Naturally." He smirked for her. There was some measure of arrogance in that expression, a chiding admonishment perhaps. "...I would know your name at least." The Auri man canted his head to one side in pensive thought. "Which one?" Deneith watched him closely. "The one the sergeant considers your real name." That elicited another smile from him, and he turned to bow. "Adin Rem Adonis, most decidedly not at your service." "Rem," she repeated. Her eyes widened slightly. Adonis nodded. "I already told the Sergeant that I wished to help him. And... her." Her gaze remained sharp and wary. "So if I tell you I am ready, then what?" "Then you join your colleagues - Melkire, Grimsong, Eglantine, and Jakkya - in training. You accept a burden, you prepare, and you wait for an opportune moment." Deneith blinked, three times. Her lips parted just slightly as she considered those names. "He had you contact... all of them?" "You misunderstand my relationship with the man." "Who are you? And exactly how do you and the segeant work together?" "I am the man who once set Askier Mergrey to task. The complete and utter ruin of the Jewel of the Desert, that was the assignment. Alas, circumstances... took me off the board, so to speak, for a time." He shrugged. "A former manservant excelled in my absence. Poisoned the city-state, as I understand it." He waved a hand. "Old history. Suffice to say that I hold the sergeant's leash, and that I am in need of men and women, heroes all, to slay a monstrosity." She stiffened, her arms falling to her side. "You are the one that Askier was--” Deneith cleared her throat to loosen the tightening there. She looked him over once more, as if seeing him anew. A thousand questions raced through her mind. She forcibly set him aside for now. "Do the others know this? Who you are? They agreed to your terms?" "Melkire knows. Jakkya is, perhaps, about to learn. Eglantine is in the dark, and Grimsong and I have never met. As for my terms... they are aware of the task at hand, and have consented. Are you aware? Will you consent?" "What is this task? What is it that you ask of all of them and of me? What do you want exactly?" “The complete and utter obliteration and negation of Jin'li Epinoch." Deneith exhaled as she broke her gaze. Her eyes flitted about the snow, before a frown bent her brows. "I already told the sergeant I would help him however I can." She stared back up at the Au Ra. "What would you have me do?" Adonis descended to the woman's level and held out a gauntleted hand. On the palm rested a gem... a white gem... a stone. "You take this. You resist the madness that has been sown within, as it has with Grimsong's and with Eglantine's. And when the time comes, you stand together with them and buy me the opportune moment with which to strike down a voidsent madman." She stared at the white stone. Her hand was slow to move, but eventually it rose and plucked it from his palm, two fingers holding it gingerly as she brought it before her eyes. He watched her, intent... and curious. "Tis artificial. An imprint of a soul, to be sure, but man-made. From one Julius Bennett, if memory serves." Deneith did not quite grasp it in her hand fully, as if hesitant to explore what laid within. Instead, she shot the Au Ra a sharp look. "An artificial soul stone. Why Eglantine? She is no fighter." "She has the heart for it. A caged bird longing for open skies." "That is no reason to put a woman like that in harm's way," she shot back. "I but gave her a means to an end. How she chooses to proceed is entirely up to her... as it is with Grimsong, as it is with Jakkya." Deneith looked back to the white stone that she still held between her thumb and index finger. She slipped it into her belt pouch. "Who is this Julius Bennett?" She sounded resigned. "A paladin of minor renown, but skilled in technique and boasting a wide breadth of experience." "And your sole purpose here is to destroy the madman, Jin'li?" "Would I pass out artifacts of immeasurable worth for anything less?" "When will this be? When will the opportunity come?" "Soon, but perhaps not too soon. Such things are difficult to gauge. I spoke with him recently. He seems more unhinged than ever." He shook his head. "I plan to convene you all within a fortnight. Perhaps within two." She maintained a stoic expression, although her thumb rubbed over her closed fingers restlessly. "I suppose you already know how to find me." She exhales with an annoyed tug to one corner of her lips. "But leave word at the Forgotten Knight." "Should we have time to spare, I shall." He hesitated as he turned to leave. "...do not trust Grimsong. Do not trust Eglantine. Not when it comes to this task. I will send you a child, and he shall lead you." Deneith seemed to be staring at the snow in thought when his words made her glare back at him. "A child?" "He is small but ferocious... and filled with faith." He smiled. "You will like him." She wore her distrust and displeasure with him plainly on her face. If she had words of protest however, she held her tongue. “Fare you well until then, Ser Deneith. Oh, and... I do believe that if she knew of this meeting, a certain pale-haired lady would send her most insincere regards." He laughed as she shot him another glare over her shoulder, but she said nothing as he took his leave of her.

“You are holding something back. What is it?” Pierre Glaisyer asked his question in a quiet tone of voice, and at that inquiry Ortolf Forgehands went very, very still. He glanced across the rooftop from which they monitored Sarangerel’s latest trip through the Ul’dahn bazaar, glanced at his erstwhile comrade in arms. A good sign, that the bastard had asked his question aloud. Had the accusation been made across the mental connection that the Crows shared, the psychic web that allowed them to share thoughts and sensations, words and sights, the others would have had cause to report Pierre’s suspicions to the captain. Then the Voice would command him, and he’d have no choice but to reveal all that he knew. For insubordination, Rotunda Crow would sentence him to oblivion. His soul would be lost forever, never to attain Rhaglr’s presence. The honest truth was that he cared little for the gods now. What he wanted was Mindclaw broken before him. The bairn knew where the traitor was hiding, whereas the captain did not. He had seen his own impotence in Melkire’s eyes. Beneath the desperation, there’d been a resignation… a readiness to embrace death rather than yield what leverage the whelp possessed. He could have worked the bairn over, treated the lad to every known cruelty under the sun and it would not have mattered. Melkire would not have given up Mindclaw. Nymeia, at least, had been kind, though he still despised the bitch for her role in the downfall of his order. The captain was wont to reminisce about his past lives, even going so far as to regale his servants and subordinates with tales from his stint as a Crow of the First Murder. Such talk bored his brethren, but Ortolf listened closely to those stories. He suspected that, in this regard at least, the captain had erred, for from those tales Forgehands had learned much: how to conceal his thoughts from the Crows, how to shut them out so that they would not hear what he heard, see what he saw The irony was not lost on him, that he hid secrets from the Voice of Now as Rotunda once hid secrets from the Voice of Then. “Aren’t we all holding something back?” He eyed the Wildwood. “The captain owes each of us a debt, he does. That debt is a private matter between each Crow and the Voice.” “That is true,” said Pierre as they began traversing the rooftops of Sapphire Avenue to follow Sarangerel as she moved through the Exchange below, “yet that does not account for your distance as of late. You have been far more reserved than I have come to expect from you.” Ortolf scowled. “I stand disgraced.” “You’ve addressed the matter. You stand in the captain’s good graces once more. Your station is restored.” “The stain remains. I failed once. I can fail again.” “You would have me believe that this churlish solitude you’ve imposed upon yourself is some form of penance? No man is perfect, Forgehands.” He balled his burly hands into fists. His fingers clenched tight and his nails dug into his palms. The lack of sensation mattered little; some instincts, he’d learned, outlive the mortal coil. “I once strove for perfection, dalcop, as did kith and kin. Leave me be.” Glaisyer shrugged. "As you wish." Ortolf Forgehands snorted and shouldered his way past his fellow Crow. I should've strewn the bairn's guts across the mountainside.

"I thought this was a world far from Thanalan." Osric Melkire stirred where he sat, the midnight helm held in his lap. He raised his head to glance at Roen Deneith where she stood… then he joined her in considering the the campfire before them. "Would y'like it to be?" She narrowed her eyes, the flickering flames lending a golden hue to those pale pupils. "I did. For a long time." He nodded. "And now?" Roen chewed on her lower lip. "I am... unsure." She turned pensive, her gaze following a small ember that took to the air. She shook her head, then looked to the sergeant. "You need not worry about me... Osric." He could see on her face that his name tasted odd as it left her lips. "As I recall,” she went on, “you always have a full plate when it comes to worrying about others and trying to keep them safe." He shrugged. "Used to be I filled m'plate because I cared. These suns? Others fill m'plate for me, and it's usually m'own gods-damned fault. Past deeds, 'n' all that. Nahare told you as much. Warren's next on her list." Osric blinked, then corrected himself with a shake of his head. "Castille. The paladin what runs the Grindstone these suns." Roen nodded slowly. "I know of Ser Castille. I met him when he and Ser Crofte were…." She trailed off. "I was told he was there with you in the tunnels." She turned back to the flames. "That woman, Nahare. Are you going to help her?" The Lominsan chewed on that for some time. "Even if I weren't inclined to -- which I am -- others would force the matter, like as not. I'm a spider caught between a web o' my own weaving and at least two others that ain't m'own… which brings us t'why I'm here." He hesitated... then glanced at Roen who nodded again. "So you came to talk to me about Nahare," she murmured. She let out a quiet exhale, as if relieved. "She... seems like a good woman." "She can be, given more time. About as rough as Askier was, when we first met her." He shook his head. "How far removed from the runt's mess would y'like to be? I've enough sway with the right folk to push the matter towards either extreme." She, too, shook her head. "I am not certain why she sought me out in the first place… or that this maniac even uttered my name." Osric blinked. "You don't know." Roen tilted her head. "Know what?" Osric moved to stand, tucking his helm beneath one arm as he went. He looked to the unlit brazier that stood a dozen fulms or so from the decrepit structure that comprised Oakum Landing..Roen stiffened as he did so, as if bracing for bad news. "Back when he was still livin',” he said, “he collared me. Told me that my network o' contacts was too much of a threat, that he'd been forced to remove that threat by takin' off the head." He glanced back at her. "He knows Kanaria 'n' I won't ever allow ourselves to be collared again... so this time, he's going after those contacts directly." He rolled a shoulder. "So aye, I've too much on m'plate... but I'm responsible for the shite what comes your way." Roen met his eyes. The woman exhaled, as if resigned. "Ah." Osric winced. "Apologies. The last thing you're wantin' is your old life draggin' you back to it." Roen Deneith nods, her fingers curling slowly over her chainmail armor. "I am learning every sun, that running from your past is... a futile thing." She furrows her brow. "I know this. I -know- this. And yet..." "You still want to." He said the words as if he knew a thing or two about running. Roen Deneith nodded almost imperceptibly.. That stoic mask fell just a bit as she pressed her lips into a tight line. "A part of me wants to turn around and face all that I left behind. A part of me screams for it. Then another part…." She bowed her head. "Then the other part of me remembers why I ran and then ran further." Her shoulders sagged with a sigh. "My brother is missing. Do you know that?" Osric nodded. "Delial 'n' I've spoken. Tried to tap what little I've got in the Shroud to help, but... nothin' on my end." The woman flicked a look at him, and there was a shadow of guilt that flits across her face. "I do not know if he just left or if he is in danger. But I... I refused to become involved. I… I am not the paladin you once knew, Osric." She shook her head. "Good." She blinked. He shrugged as he broke out into a grin. "The paladin I knew was a mess. Couldn't choose, couldn't commit. Let others do those things for her. I don't know if it's a paladin I'm seein' now, but what's before me looks seven hells of a lot better." Roen stared at him. Quite some time passed before she spoke again. "So, you said you used to have your plates full because you cared. Do you? Still?" The man looked back to the beacon. "...I care enough t'fight my way out, 'n' to take those I care for with me. The rest... I don't know. Only so many meals before you're full." Melkire slipped his helm back on and secured it one strap at a time. Deneith nodded absently, before she looked off in the same general direction. "That woman... Nahare... she warned me when she did not have to. She put her own safety at risk for mine. So... I owe her that much." Melkire turned an alien gaze on the woman. "Runnin' can only take you so far," came his distorted, metallic-sounding voice, "and you're not the dyin' sort. I'm offerin' you a chance to cheat. You want in? Or out?" Deneith flicked him a glance. There was a slowly narrowing of her grey eyes. "The thought of cheating... the old me would not have it. I am no longer that woman. Let me know what I can do." Melkire tilted his head to one side. "If 'n' when you're ready... look to your shadow, and pray aloud. Ask for a gift. From Thal." She blinked She stared at him for a moment. She nodded. "Take care, Light." With that, he turned and bellowed. "ANSFRID!" She parted her lips to protest… then sighed. He glanced just the once over his shoulder as a griffin descended and landed before him. He mounted without a word. She watched his back, and for a brief moment as he turned, her stoic mask fell away completely and she regarded him in earnest. He nodded... and then he and the griffin were gone, nothing but a wing-swept gust billowing the drifts behind them. "Stay safe, sergeant," she murmured to the wind.

Relevant vent: Queued for Expert Roulette the other day, ended up in Antitower with an SCH who was full-out gung-ho DPS and would remain in Cleric Stance with Selene out, frequently allowing me to drop below 5.k HP when I still haven't transitioned from a full STR build. Oh, and I'm i209 on WAR so there's THAT. Never before have I had to be so methodical and meticulous in planning, using, and rotating my defensive cooldowns.

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Unless I'm very much mistaken, Midas in general constitutes the first piece of casual content (read: content that does not include cutting-edge progression nor Extreme/Savage variants) in which a tank swap is more or less required in order to mitigate a considerable amount of incoming damage. I'm therefore not at all surprised that many tanks are still not well-practiced and/or well-versed in how to properly tank-swap in FFXIV.

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Sometimes I lose focus and Tupperware the inedible bits while committing the leftovers to the trash can. Whoops. THE STRUGGLE IS REAL.

“Well?” Pierre Glaisyer glanced up from where he knelt at the side of the corpse. The downed wyvern had bled from a score of puncture wounds, ere it perished: wings, legs, abdomen, neck. Most of the blood had long since congealed, but what they’d managed to collect was now sealed within the small vial held within the Wildwood’s grasp. “As expected,” he reported to his captain. “Physical confrontation. a trifle. No difficulties there. But we’ve no way to know with a true dragon. They are possessed of foul magicks; there is simply no telling how theirs will clash or otherwise interact with ours, not until it happens.” Tengri Geneq snorted, but he nodded in acknowledgement of his subordinate’s conclusions. There was, after all, little point in employing another’s expertise only to blithely and foolishly dismiss their findings. At that moment, however, something brushed against his thoughts and footfalls sounded against the narrow stone path that gradually ascended the Dravanian mountainside. He turned to find Ortolf Forgehands falling to one knee. Behind him, he could hear Pierre rising to his feet. The tension that ratcheted with each passing moment as palpable. “What is the meaning of this?” “Ser,” said the highlander as he held aloft a rolled parchment, “a missive for you. Urgent, to the first degree.” Everything went still. Everything went silent. Had the mountain erupted with cannon fire, the Auri warrior would not have flinched. That was the extent to which he stood stunned. The first degree was reserved for the abomination. He stepped forward and held out a hand. Forgehands rose and passed him the parchment, which he unfurled and perused once. To Mister Adonis and the Slaves whom are Bound to his Service, This one begins by wishing you all a fine day and hopes that you are all well. The purpose of this letter is a follows: this one seeks to sit down and discuss the ultimate futility of your aspirations before you exert any more effort to obtain what is nothing more than dust upon the wind. The purpose of this conversation is to attempt to save the many innocent lives your actions will cause to come to harm by opposing the inevitable reality which this one is accelerating. Should this intrigue you, come alone to the small town of Swiftperch. Again, that is alone. Should there be cause to suspect even the slightest chance of betrayal, our ceasefire will be forfeit and you shall have only yourselves to blame for what follows. For now, this one wishes you good fortune and hopes that you might realize that your attempts to exercise control only enslave the innocents you wish to lord yourself over. Until then, your selfish desire to rule matters more to you than the freedom of your fellow mortals. Respectfully, Jin'li Epinoch The parchment crumpled and tore as he balled his hands and clenched his fists. “Come. We are for La Noscea.” “But captain, the child--” “Summerfield shall have to fend for them both for a few hours, perhaps a day at the outside. This is too much.” He straightened and looked to the south, across the forelands. “It cannot wait.” "Don't." "I must." "Please, captain--" "No, Pierre." "He cannot be trusted!" "That is why I brought the two of you, Ortolf. Silence, please." Tengri Geneq rounded the end of the fence and strode into Swiftperch. He wore a full suit of plate mail, sans celata, and the steel longsword at his side and the darksteel tower shield upon his back belied the nonchalance with which he walked. Two shadows, frenzied and furious, darted to and fro and about his own. "I will not converse with you in private, as I was bid," he called out to the moonlit night, "until I have your guarantee, given face to face, of safe passage from this pathetic little settlement." "Pathetic?" came the voice from the shadows, like a bemused purr hinting at something that might have been amusement if not for the off notes in it. Nothing moved at first. Only the stars twinkling overhead in the early morning sky. "Of course those who desire power would find the simple dwellings of those they would seek to rule as nothing more than pathetic. But this is how the slaves you seek to control live out their lives. Not that you would care, your selfish minds care only for your personal well-being and power." There was a pause as the form of a robed miqo'te stepped from the shadows near the back of the open space between buildings. "Certainly words that sound like a guarantee could be uttered, and indeed, you do have such a promise. But, are words ever anything more than subjective phrases that vary from soul to soul?" Jin'li's soulless eyes stared into the thing that was Tengri. "I call this settlement pathetic because it neither holds nor has it been given any strategic purpose," explained the Garlean expatriate as he turned to face the abomination, "and yet those who abide here live in squalor and must eke out a meager existence for no reason other than that it is convenient for those currently in power for them to do so. Those who are kept lowly are kept cheap. For this place to flourish, investment is required. Investment of coin, of nourishment, of purpose. These people will never rise to their potential otherwise, so do not preach to me, Epinoch." He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. With an otherworldly screech, the two shadows departed post-haste for the horizon. "But if currency was not a chain to bind them,” came the reply, ”perhaps their potential could be obtained." Jin'li stood, his hands in his pockets of the robe that tugged gently on his small frame as a gentle sea breeze brought the smell of salt and brine up, off the sea. "You still see yourself as the rightful ruler of all the world, it seems. Your attitude has not changed despite your reincarnation. One would think that a new perspective might have developed during this period of time." Jin'li blinked slowly. "So then, what does one call you now? One would hate to be rude and address you incorrectly during the course of our discussions." "Your contention against currency is valid." The Auri male crossed his arms and grinned. "Your assessment of my perspective is not. Adin Adonis lives only in memory now, lost to all but those who knew him in life. Though he emerged-- though I emerged dominant from the amalgamation that was Rotunda, the man he was is not the man he became. I am not he." He turned and paced back and forth along the dirt path that was the main thoroughfare. "I took what principles and ideals he valued and retained those I deemed worthy. Rotunda would be a more accurate epithet... in many ways, I am still Thal's Dagger and Althyk's Axe, still the Dome that Shelters... but Rotunda is also my past, not my future." He paused in his tracks and smirked at the short male. "I am Tengri Geneq and Tengri Moks, he who hears and he who sees. I am the Sky, and I have a Voice, and I would step aside from my ambitions if only to cast out you and your ilk." He bowed low. "How interesting." Jin'li blinked slowly. A small smile began to work over his twisted lips. "In the end, Adin lacked even the willpower to remain true to himself." The Geneq snorted at Epinoch's presumption. "How little you knew the man, after all those years spent in his service," he grumbled. Jin'li bowed back and then stood, his face losing its hints of emotions as it became a flat mask again. "So, Mister Tengri, you speak of ambitions. This one thinks it would be best that you cease your grabs for power. You will find that your time might be better off spent elsewhere." Jin'li turned and motioned with a gloved hand for Tengri to follow as he began a slow stroll to the edge of the village that overlooked the sea. His fellow former Crow fell into step as the abomination made for the cliffs. "Power comes later," he explained. "For now, I have settled for countermeasures and for weapons. My machinations heretofore have been of a singular purpose: to foil you at every turn. I consider this a worthwhile endeavour. I understand that you do not." "Because your current endeavour is one that shall yield you no fruit in the end." They came to the edge of the village and gazed out over the waters. "Do you see those ships out there, Mister Tengri? There are three of them sailing together." "I see them," he acknowledged. Epinoch folded its hands together as his eyes watched the ships. "You think that this one has plans that can be halted. That there is a way it can be stopped. You are wrong." Jin'li turned his head to peer up at Tengri. "You might as well be trying to end a virus or halt the endless decay to which the current reality is subject. You would try to make a new structure with which to house society. This one would find a way to topple it. For example..." Jin'li turned back to the ships. "There are three slave ships before you. Each a wonderful little self-contained society with a set of those who rule and those many trapped beneath. Everything and everyone in their place." "But… if you add something that should not be there. Such as keys to chains, weapons for hands, and who knows what else, the entire neat little system can change in a moment. Why..." One of the ships exploded in a ball of fire that sent flames and debris into the air. The fire illuminated the other ships and a moment later it became obvious that chaos had broken out on the other two ships. Fighting was spilling onto the decks and the figures danced in the bloody light of the flaming ship. "You see, Mister Tengri, you are just one of the many to whom I am currently demonstrating the reality of the world. You seek to bind mortals to your will. To rule. You will find that mortals, deep down, despise being ruled over. sooner or later, everything you create will be destroyed. And this one will likely be there. Accelerating the inevitable. You cannot stop me, Mister Tengri. Even something as simple as freed slaves aboard a slaving vessel is a victory to me." "Let us not bandy words." The Geneq grinned as he watched the proceedings. "You care not a whit for slaves, nor for free men and women. Your ambitions do not begin and end with such things." He turned to Epinoch, his arms still crossed. "In your arrogance, you believe yourself inevitable. You take the proofs of your own existence, in violation of all natural law, as evidence. Whether you have transcended the chaos that gave rise to you is immaterial; what matters to you is the reality you seek to impose." He shrugged. "If you are inevitable and your victory assured, and said reality will come, as I suspect it will, at the cost of all that these people," he waved a hand at the ships before returning it to the crook of his other elbow, "hold dear... then what, pray tell, is the purpose of this meeting? Surely you hold no lasting affections for myself... if, in fact, you hold any affections for anyone or anything at all. Why seek to spare me the effort, if in fact my exertions are futile? 'tis not for their sakes." He paused and blinked theatrically. "Unless... could it be... you are not inevitable?" As if on cue, tentacles erupted from the sea. Long, thick, and sinister, they fell upon the ships. Battered them, crushed them, tore them to pieces and, in the end, dragged them one by one down into the depths. "Reanimating a kraken was difficult, if inspired," he murmured in an amused tone of voice, "but worth the cost to deny you a cult of worshippers. You never were any good at chess." He leaned forward, bent down until he was at eye level with the abomination. He grinned and his tail writhed with pleasure. "So tell me," he all but purred, "do you fear me, Jin'li?" Jin'li had observed Tengri's demonstration with a relaxed air to him, hands held clasped together. The short little Miqo'te made no effort to reply in any way, until the tall Au Ra leaned down and met him eye to eye. At first, he merely blinked.. "And what about you do I need fear?" His words were calm. "What would you do to me? Kill me? Capture me? Torture me? Cease my existence? Bring an end to my activities? You forget, I've endured anything and everything you have ever brought into being at least once. You might as well be shouting at a tempest, trying to prove how mighty you are. No, there is no fear, only displeasure. You asked why you are here. Well, the answer is simple. To let you know that I've been worming chaos into your plans. Slowly. One thread at a time. For example..." Jin'li calmly reached into his robe and pulled out… the moonlight glistened over it. It was a mask, polished like an egg. The mask spun in the his hands as he held it up for Tengri to see. The Mask of the Seven Horrors Hidden in Nald'Thal's Mist. "It was chance that drew Mergrey to me in the beginning, so desperate was he for a necromancer to bring back his beloved. At the time, I had just taken the mantle from the former owner of this mask and was making use of the man’s reputation to establish connections. But then Mergrey came to me, and I saw a chance to keep an eye on him. It was simple at first. After all, what else are brothers for? But, then, lo and behold, you began seeking soulstones and, one by one, through my hands they passed. The Lady Mergrey let slip certain information, you see, and, well, the question you should ask yourself is, ‘did he sow a little madness into those stones before I received them? Is it wise to trust those who wield them?’ I was never very good at playing chess...” Jin'li blinked. "...but this isn't chess. And there are no rules." The Geneq blinked back and stared in contemplative silence, brow furrowed, as if assessing damages. At last, he straightened with a laugh. "A minor setback... and there is much that you do not know. I see no reason to bring those matters to your attention, and so...." Tengri nodded, one hand raising to pinch the tip of a horn in salute as though it were the brim of a hat. "...our palaver, I think, is at an end. There is little to be said that has not been said already." And with that, he turned his back on the abomination and walked back up the road, exposing himself… and his rudeness. Jin'li made no noise as he silently slipped the mask onto his face and peered at the Au Ra. Behind the mask, the little cat's face twisted into an expression of mirth. He said nothing as his hands slowly slipped around himself in a hug and he squeezed himself tightly. The abomination began to cackle wildly as he tossed his head back. The sound of the laughter echoed out and followed Tengri as the runt collapsed into a mass of centipedes and scurried away in all directions. "Khuja'ya," murmured the Geneq once he was certain that Epinoch had departed. His own shadow twisted and contorted. From within that shadow emerged a second which resolved into a mangy Keeper, hunched over and chortling under his breath. "We are fortunate that your unique... talents... were not required," the Au Ra went on. "Fetch Sarangerel from the Brewer’s Beacon. We are going home." Khuja'ya Zhwan cackled and disappeared as the two shadows from earlier raced back towards Tengri. Rotunda Crow smiled.

Loads of pictures and quotes under the cut from tonight's scene. [align=center] [/align]

Kudos to Kanaria, to Klynzahr, to Kiht, to Delial, and to Roen for all obliging me with roleplay and allowing me to return the favor. Kudos to Sounsyy Mirke for sharing popcorn.

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