Melkire

OI, ALL YOU WANNA-BE PUGILIST RUTTERS! YOU WANNA KNOW HOW TO THROW A PUNCH? I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO THROW A PUNCH! OR A KICK! PUNCHES ARE BETTER THOUGH, THEM KNUCKLES! https://doodle.com/322r5kw9ukzp2y6d#table There'll be only one class a week, and the date and time will be chosen to accommodate as many attendees as possible. Please choose the best times for you.

Up. She'd gone up. Of course; why hadn't he thought of that? 'Cause I was Problemsolver. Wasn't ever any kinda Streetrunner. He quit bangin' his fool noggin against the marble, rested it there instead, and opened his eyes to smile up at Kink. Her mad rictus didn't worry him none; 'twas the shite-eating grin of a professional, and a professional was what he needed right now. "Aight. Standard rates, and an extra three hundred for y'troubles." He frowned. "I'm ever in town again and ye're needin' more, don't be piss yellow 'bout touchin' me. I'd owe you for this." He dropped his head back down to stare at the opposite wall: worn, battered, wet, covered in Llymlaen's own moss. "Papers're like as not locked up tight at their headquarters on the Aftcastle. Maelstrom Command. North Tower oughta be Records Administration. That's a floor up, at least, behind locked doors and guarded hallways." He looked back up, sober and straight-faced, to impress on her how serious this was. "That's why I'm willin' t'pay Nald's own fortune for this job. Gods-damned difficult. You'll need to hire out to even get in... so. Expenses. Anything you need, anyone you hire, let me know. I'll front the cost. Can't pay you more," he smirked. "but that doesn't mean I can't pay others." He pushed himself to his feet, gathered up his belongings, took one last look at Dax, her not seven years past bein' the up-and-coming star runner o' the streets, and got out his purse and a spare bag. In went half her fee - three hundred and sixty, if m'numbers are right and m'head's not muddled, seventy 'cause I'm new, two hundred fifty for a job done, a hundred for danger, three hundred extra for drowning her, cut that in half, it's three hundred and sixty - and up went the bag in an underhanded toss. "I'll be at the Mizzenmast. Room twenty-three. We square?"

Can't be overstated enough how important it is not to overthink a character in your head. If a character wants to happen, they will... This. After a certain point, you're no longer making decisions for your character so much as you are relaying the decisions they would make to everyone else. At that point, you know the character has taken off, because the damned thing writes itself. Osric, quit being an a-hole!

I wonder what this picture's about...

...pfffffhahahahahaha. Oh, well-played, Siha. Far too innocent or far too cunning, not sure which, but well-played. Somebody get Merri in here to read this thread. My sides ache from laughing this hard.

Put me down for mentoring at the pugilist's guild. Friday evenings would work best for me, but we'll see what people need. :thumbsup:

Don't worry, Jaja, I too would totally squee if I ran into the Man with No Name in Thanalan.

Askier: whichever date is fine, but the later the time the better for me. ...Gods, you're all terrible at this. Somebody call up Erik, y'all 'sworn could use some Red Wings training.

Fixed, Lek'si's apostrophe, too. I'd just only met some of you awesome folks (or your alts, in at least one case) and I didn't have the log in front of me at the time (was posting from work). That bear hug was freakin' savage. Askier: any chance we can get an update on date and time of the next event so we can plan to be there?

Event was awesome, even if I didn't have any IC reason to bid! Thanks for hosting! :3 Also I totes made it into a picture. =D

i76 MNK looking to break into Coil. 485+ acc (forget the exact #), only experience is with OTing T1 as WAR on Gilgamesh.6pm PST on Sats is perfect for me. I'll send you a PM shortly, out and about omw to my bank atm.

Shite. Maybe I should've just played it safe 'n' named her Pinch. He broke into a brisk walk and made for the end of the sidestreet. "Aight, I was more'n a mite unkind, what with keel-" He rounded the turn to find another T-shaped intersection, not five fulms ahead of him; he rounded the turn just in time to catch the end of a tail slip the far corner off to the left. He scowled and went after her. "...keelhaulin' ye, and f'that, I'm sorry." Turn. Another intersection, another couple o' branches. Tail. Left again. Large 'nough for three t'walk abreast. He could see her now, just ahead of him, head down and double-timin' it down this long sidestreet, headin' for the border. The territory's border. She not cleared to work it or somethin'? Gods. "But I ain't askin' ye to bare y'throat anymore than I'm barin' m'own for the Syndicate... and the coin? I'm good for it, honest t'Nald, I am." Takin' a right again. Short alley again. "The Ghost's a myth, aye... but the man's not." A left. Two abreast, here. Bloody hells, these are getting tighter. I'm small, but I'm not that small! "Must've been a man, what with closin' down the whole ruttin' city. No one in, no one out? For four moons? Don't tell me that don't stink o' rotten fisheyes." Right. Alley. One across. "What I need, the 'strom has on paper. All I need is the man's names, Kink." His names. My names. Which ones do they have? Which ones are still safe? The next turn brought him to a dead end. No doors, no windows, no gutters or drops or sidestreets, no nothin'. The Keeper was gone. He put his back to the slick oily wetness of a marble wall and slid down 'til his ass 'n' his duffel hit the stone floor, resting his elbows on his knees. Once, twice, three times he rapped the back of his head against the marble. "Jus' his names." Do they have them? All of them? Do they have the only one that matters?

This lady had me arrested last night. ...Pffffffhahahahahaahaha.

Maybe next week, we heroes will finally grow a collective brain stem and kill the gods-damned oversized dodo first. I somehow doubt that. It's okay, though. I am here to keep you humble. You're welcome. Thank you. :angel:

[align=justify][align=center]...I'll be ready. Provided I don't get a Roe bandit taking me from behind again. You can tell L.R. As far as I know, Anelia and Ellaria are respected doctors. I see no reason to hide it; it's a public clinic, after all. K.K.[/align] [/align] Chief Flame Sergeant Melkire hefted the missive in one hand for a few moments more, then pushed his chair back from his desk, stood, walked over to the fireplace, and burned the parchment. At least my leg's not acting up any more. That limp would've been...problematic, right about now. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened. Why he'd turned to Askier, having just downed the free paladin... and stiffened. Second-guessed himself, his every move. And Mergrey? Mergrey had taken him to task, and found him wanting. Found his gods-damned knee wanting. Don't lie to yourself, Ossy. You know exactly what happened. He sighed as he dragged his feet back to his desk. He didn't want to think about Tabitha right now. You never do. Business. Back to business. He lifted the various garments up off his desk, gathered them into his arms. The missive to Lanza had been sent; all that was left was to change wardrobes, swing by Swift's office to arrange a few matters, and then go bribe a Sultansworn. Get arrested. Gods, it was... it couldn't be any more... he was... gods.... His maniacal laughter as he passed through the barracks sent privates scurrying for their bunks. "We're here for Vance. Open up." He gave it two oiled squeals of iron and sixty seconds, then glanced up and out through the bars at First Flame Lieutenant Burning Peak's disapproving scowl... and smiled. "...you're an idiot." "Thank you, sir." Burning snorted. Privates Lancaster and Gregson were attending the lieutenant; the former had taken up post by the entrance to these gaols, having scared off the guardsmen, and was busy looking big 'n' intimidating. The sergeant had to admit, the highlander had certainly improved over the past fortnight. The midlander, though.... "Gregson, what in piss is that?" "Cuffs, sir." "...Peak, why do I need cuffs?" The lieutenant gave him a frosty, tooth-filled grin. "Fafaso intercepted the response from Limsa. What finally reached the 'sworn is clear: Raandal Vance is a known and proven criminal. He is to be extradited to Limsa Lominsa on the morrow, tried and found guilty, and summarily executed. So much for pirates, smugglers, and slavers." Melkire gave him a heated glare in return as he thrust his arms out towards the private. Gregson reached through the bars and snapped the linked manacles shut, nice and snug and tight, over the sergeant's wrists. Peak sifted through a keyring and came up with one particular piece of brass. Into the lock it went. "Meanwhile," the lieutenant continued, "a certain irresponsible sergeant will experience the rudest awakening imaginable, come morning. He'll get up and dress in uniform as per regulations - his mask included. His pounding hangover will no doubt prove a serious discomfort throughout the course of his duties tomorrow, but I will rest assured that he will perform as admirably as ever. Same as always. Back to normal." The sergeant couldn't help but smirk at that. "As normal as can be expected in this city, at any rate." Peak nodded, the key turned, and the bars swung open. Melkire stepped out in time for the Roegadyn to drop one massive hand onto his left shoulder, and for the highlander to drop one of his own on the other. Gregson took the lead as Peak and Lancaster guided him forward. "Why 'bluebird,' by the way?" "My sister's favorite." "Dani's, or Cori's?" "...Tabi's." "Ah." Peak blinked. "And where in the seven hells did you get 'Raandal Vance' from?" Osric smiled.

I was gonna cover it tonight in forum RP! I was... QUIT GIGGLING, ASKIER. MY DIRT SANDWICH WASN'T THAT BAD.

... /targetpc *checks posts for dates* ...IblameAskier. /point /doubt /doubt /doubt /doubt /doubt EDIT: Combat log for anyone who wants it. Accompanying music:

Especially good at expectorating? ...I'm okay with this.

Highlights from last night's throwdown at the graveyard: Delial took it hard from both ends. There was no shortage of arrows, spearheads, and other such implements from our horny heroic Miqo'te friends. Pugilists > Paladins. Those harboring doubts, we refer you to a Mr. S'honji Hayakawa. He'll set the record straight. Lek'si got skewerrrrrrrrrrrrred by Kanaria. He was later patched up. Got to his feet, stumbled a short ways, and collapsed again, reopening all his wounds and undoing a good 10mins worth of field surgery RP. Pugilists, all of your precious rolls are as but 1s before the might of a Monk's endless stream of 5s and 6s. Speaking of Monks, Askier's RaidbossHack.exe faulted only three times. We capitalized on each and every instance; we got lucky. Props to the Hound for clutch rolls and to Daph for clutch heals. Somebody went for the book-to-the-face again last night. Totes a tradition now. Siha gives not a shite for healing, girl's got graves to rob. I'll be posting the log when I get home from work tonight.

*shakes fist impotently* I feel bad for S'honji. Dude got wrecked... right before Askier turned around and wrecked me. That'll teach me to not go after the raidboss until all the adds are down. >_>

[align=center][/align] The tavern doors swing open, and a young man dressed in the dullest of attire steps in. Drab brown bandana, drab brown shirt, pants, boots... a quick glance out over the patronage elicits a smirk. From his belt he pulls a parchment, from a pouch he pulls a nail. The man strolls over to the nearby bulletin board, pins the parchment to the board by the nail, and draws a knife from the sheath beneath his shirt. The sharp slide of steel draws every ear and every eye; chairs lurch and wood squeals. Now grinning from ear to ear, the man drives the nail home with the pommel. Three thick thuds are sufficient to ease the escalated nerves of the men and women throughout the room; no need to cut the tension with a knife here. Later, when the stranger is long gone, those selfsame patrons will find their way to the board, and they'll read: [align=center][/align]

Kinda erroneously lumped all this into... ...to save time, but yeah, I gotcha. Ifrit definitely distinguishes tempering as something distinct ("taint of another" referring to other Primals, clearly), but it seems heavily implied that the PC's allegiance to Hydaelyn is why he can't temper them. Not really looking to delve into the Echo here, other than as an example that there are other forms of... well... whatever you want to call it. Patronage? Sponsorship? Team Crystal vs. Teams Primal? One more question: what's the mention of tempering w/ regards to King Mog? Anyone have a quote? Or is the manner in which he's summoned the only commonality between him and primals?

Will gladly lift Lalas so they can ring those pesky retainer bells.

Thanks for all of the replies! To sum up, then, and please correct me if I misunderstood anything: As far as terminology goes, "tempering" is exclusive to primals and other elementals. In no other case is this word dropped as a reference to establishing dominion over another's soul. "Thralldom", for want of a better word, is an established concept in XIV's lore, and there have been cases where beings as lowly as dragons (if dragons can be considered lowly) have exerted significant influence if not outright domination over others. Hydaelyn bridges the gap between "tempering" and "thralldom". The Echo is clearly symptomatic of a similar influence to the above, though lacking the characteristic malevolence behind tempering... and unlike with "thralldom", we have a confirmed instance (Ifrit) where the Echo has precluded tempering. In conclusion, the Echo is a murky topic that is best avoided, and tempering is an all-or-nothing deal associated thus far only with the primals and elementals... but there are other instances of exerted influence, and those are likely the ones I'm after. Thanks again! P.S. Can someone please elaborate on King Mog? I haven't gotten around to trying Thornmarch yet.

I should totally pay Clover to follow me around and take my screenshots for me. So jelly.