Melkire

No no no no no, you don't talk to HIM, you talk to me or Kahn'a! We blame everything on Askier for a reason.

So I finally figured out what the jaw's for....

...sorry... I was just hoping for another pic of you creepin' on Yvelont... :cry:

Cue Crisiet post.

Aaaaaaand we still have no persistent kneeling pose for those who aren't Miqo'te males or highlander females. ....

CLOTHES ASDFGHWERTTYCDVNOLMINMFCZSEXVGFISXRBKVF

Dear Dragoons, please teach this cat how to Elusive Jump into landslides. Welcome to FFXIV, RPC, and (presumably) Balmung!

This. I can't see such a subforum accomplishing much that RP Discussion doesn't already handle other than, you know, siphoning threads away from RP Discussion. ...not that I wouldn't use such a board.

Probably better off scheduling for the weekend, Askier. Maybe throw up a Doodle and get everyones' availability? http://doodle.com/en/ EDIT: lol "through" instead of "throw". THIS IS WHAT I GET FOR POSTING FROM WORK.

To touch on the "but the good guys are predetermined to win so it's meh" argument, which is a valid one: Just because we can't go all the way and allow the villains a complete victory doesn't mean they can't have a partial one. It doesn't mean that there aren't stakes. There are a lot of people living in Ul'dah, and I'm not just talking about our Playable Characters....

...or maybe everyone else is really drunk and floating around in the ocean while thinking they're at home.

He's so... he's so tall. :3 And he has excellent taste in gloves. X3

Reminder: Pugilist Courses today at 12 PM PST and 4 PM PST. I'll give the 12:00 session a good 15 minutes for people to show up. 4 PM seems to work better for most people.

No. Just... no. Nuh-uh. Nope. No way. NO. ...okay fine.

....this is all my fault.

No, he doesn't.

U'ldah has a sultana. Limsa has an alien. Ul'dah has a barmaid PC. Limsa has a waitress NPC. U'ldah has Sapphire Avenue Exchange, a.k.a. the most efficient, lag-free, and user-friendly bazaar ever. Limsa has Hawker's Alley, a.k.a. Jita 2.0 Ul'dah has an in-character law enforcement linkshell, and numerous associated PCs. Limsa has nothin' but crime. I'd name names, but they'd shank me. Ul'dah's very architecture and layout supports spying. Limsa's... listen, you can't spy for shit, the angles are all wrong. I think the winner is clear here. (clearly the answer is to move to Gridania where Crisiet will stalk love you forever)

...has Kahn'a even gotten around to paying Zach yet for his duties yet? I mean, sheesh, I would've up and quit by now, unless I had another reason to stick around... :angel: Also, apples.

He frowned down at the waterproof case for several minutes. Then he opened the lid, took up the papers, and began perusing them. Four moons. Four moons he'd been on the run, playing the hottest game of coeurl-and-rat he'd ever known, playing for his life. He'd spent several weeks being sheltered by Sisipu and Wawalago; wet and drenched he'd been, most of that time, only drawn forth from the water by the nets for meals and for sundown. Several more had been spent precariously perched high above the city, hidden in some recess or alcove in the marble masts of that ruined vessel of old, with only seagull eggs for food. In the end, he had won out, fooled them all, passed Mealvaan's Gate with the arcanists none-the-wiser. His eyes scanned the dry documents. ...Merlwyb's Ghost... ...Dirk Problemsolver... ...Rings... ...Osric Melkire. He exhaled with a shudder. He wasn't safe. No name was safe. Not one was his to wear. Silently, wordlessly, he sent up a prayer of thanks to the Twelve, asking for their blessing upon Swift and Peak. The two men had smuggled him back here, four years ago, so that he could convince his family to fake his funeral, to grieve for him, to convince the city that the eldest son of Melkire had indeed been given to Llymlaen's waters. As a result, his family was safe from repercussions... or as safe as they could be. That had been the reason for his row with Cori, the reason why she'd barred him from the Wench during her shifts: she'd been concerned that she would give him away, give them all away. He glanced up at the door. Kink was a problem... but she'd sounded sincere. All his lives had thought the same: she'd not turn on him if he stayed the hells out of her way. He tossed the waterproof case aside without a care in the world, sheathed his knife, pocketed the whetstone. He stood and made his way over to the only light in the room, and burned the papers over the open flame of that candle. The remaining corner of parchment, he dropped in the wax... then he was out the door himself, into the hallway... and that was when he collided with Baderon. The man blinked at him, then smiled. "Ossy! Good t'see you! ...can I have twenty-three back now?" He blinked. Ossy... Ossy might work. Might be safe enough, so long as it was whispered. So long as Tom and the twins could keep their mouths shut. "Course, Master Tenfingers. Thank you." "Nothin' to it, nothin' to it... ye ever need anythin', ye just speak up, aye?" He blinked again. There was one thing.... "Mind keepin' an ear out for me over the next few suns? Missin' persons, and what-not." "High life or lowsies?" "Lowsies. A picker, or a trouper." "That, I can do. Pass it along through Cori?" "That'd be just fine." He patted the man on the shoulder, the man he respected so much for risking life and limb to make a half-honest livin' in this shitesack city, and marched down the hallway. Kink may have taken the pot, but he'd walked away with the playing cards. He could always play again.

Deep within the Hourglass, Osric Melkire sat back in his chair, dropping his papers to the desk as he plucked the vibrating little blue linkpearl - the one dotted with four black diamonds - off the wood and plopped it into one ear. "Lady Grace," he replied, smiling at the timbre of her voice. "What can I do for you at this ungodly bell?"

*squees at Zhavi/Jager/D'lyhhia pics* *squees at Aya's new outfit* *laughs ass off at Yvelont*

...gods damn it, Big Blue....

12:00 PM Pacific - 2:00 PM Pacific, and 4:00 PM Pacific to 6:00 PM Pacific. This Sunday, May 25th, tomorrow/today. Pugilist Class. Because I love you guys so much.

Cajun Kiht Stew. ... ...SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Melkire scowled as men and women fussed over his shoulder. Bad enough that Kahn'a had had to pull the bullet out himself, back in Limsa; all of the regular practicioners of the Hall made themselves scarce at these bells, and there were none to be had currently. So he ignored them and chose to scowl down at Swift instead. The commander returned his gaze. "Is it true?" "Gave the body to Llymlaen's waters m'self, Commander." Swift smirked up at the sergeant. Not once had Melkire gone for "corpse," or "deceased"; always, it was "the body". "...very well. C'kayah Tia is dead. Consider yourself debriefed, Sergeant. Dismissed." Osric snapped a salute and pivoted on one heel, medical aspirants sticking to him like barnacles to a rotten hull.