Coatleque

Warren only has one emotion. Franz gets beat up by a blue-blooded Lominsan teenager.

I will throw my name in. Just need to update my sheet for you. {edit} But I'll also step aside if there are new people who want in, since I've been to a few events already.

The sun had begun its decent and the afternoon breeze had subsided. Flies began to buzz lower towards the hands and the air had lost the hot and stinging dryness on the back of the throat. It would be rain tonight for sure, though there was not a cloud to be seen yet. Two figures, hooded and cloaked, stood upon the upper balcony of a neighboring residence. One leaned casually against the supporting beam of the overhang while the other rested arms along the railing and peered over the edge. They were both focused on the adjacent row of buildings, and particularly the sentry in the alley below. He paced back and forth outside the rear entrance of the building which had been concealed by the clever stacking of crates facing the main road. A Limsan style musket was wedged between his shirt and a length of hempen rope which served as his belt. Luckily for the two above, the shadows cast by the city had left them shade to remain undetected. Even more lucky was that Shas's scouting beforehand had found them this lightly guarded portal. The man below stopped and looked around for no apparent reason. Neither of them had made a sound to betray their positions. Coatleque leaned ever so slightly further towards the edge to spy the man as he tried to disappear further into the alley behind another stack of crates. He hefted his tunic, gave a grunt, and relieved himself on the wall. The paladin pushed herself back from the railing and looked at Shas with disgust. "Men. Think they can just piss on anything." she whispered. This was met with a knowing smirk from under the others hood. A crack was heard in the distance, resounding off the sides of buildings and sending a few ravens alight from the rooftops. The two cloaked figures both started. Pushing off the wood railings they glanced at each other. Two more pops followed by the screams of a woman and angry yelling. The sentry below drew his pistol and stared warily towards the road. He shifted between feet as if unsure what to do before finally uttering a curse and abandoning his post to join whatever fray was developing around the front of the building. "So much for subtlety." Coatleque hissed under her breath before turning and motioning to her companion. The two of them quickly descended the stairs from the balcony to the alley and huddled near the door. Shas turned to watch their backs while Coatleque procured a lock-pick from her belt. "Never expected tae need this again." she uttered before starting on the lock. Memories of crude manacle designs flashed through her thoughts as each pin was set. The large iron locks on the doors of the poor were not much improvement over a slaver's collar, and if she had wanted to announce their entry she could have simply smashed it. The lock finally gave and the door swung inward. She waited just a moment to be sure nobody was waiting just inside for them before tapping Shas on the shoulder and proceeding inside. They were met with a dimly lit hallway stretching to either side. Surveying it up and down they confirmed their presence was yet unknown. The firefight out front had hopefully distracted any additional sentries within. "I'll make my way to the front." Coatleque whispered. "To be sure the door is clear for our friends. We should split up and make sure there are no unexpected surprises." With that they separated in both directions. The building itself was rather simply laid out. At one time it was probably a row of individual dwellings. Since then it had been re-purposed - walls having been removed at key places to join sections. Coatleque was almost impressed at the amount of construction (or destruction in some sections) that had been carried out under the noses of the Blades. "Or the housing authority." she mused to herself. Stopping at the first 'T' intersection of hallways she slid her back to the wall and rolled her head to glimpse around the corner. Another hallway leading across the building to the front. Yet this one was nearly entirely open on the right side into what was probably a mess area. Long, crude wooden tables lined the space and the smell of stale ale wafted through the air. Two men were standing mid-way by one of the tables talking. More Limsan arms, she noted. One of them held a musket across his chest while he leaned against the central wooden column of the room, the other faced him with a drawn scimitar resting back over his right shoulder. Straightening against the wall she cursed herself for being confined to leathers tonight of all nights. She drew her blade, a standard issue steel sword, and closed her eyes to focus. Drawing from the aether around her as she had been trained, she brought forth a minor barrier of protection around her body. She listened carefully to the conversation in the room and waited until one of the men burst out laughing. "Now!" Turning the corner she rushed the pair in silence to take advantage of her surprise. They both jumped and the musket was raised barely in time to get a shot off which thankfully missed. Her shoulder collided with the gunman sending him prone and the gun skittering down the hall. Her sword flashed upwards in time to parry the incoming scimitar which she followed with a left hook to the man's face. Grabbing him by the back of the head she threw him forward into the pillar and watched him crumble. His companion was backing away down the hall now on his elbows and pleading for his life. Coatleque quickly stepped over the first man and grabbed him by his collar, hoisting him to his feet. She pressed the man against the wall and pulled down her hood. Emerald eyes glared at him beneath her bangs. "Where is Randolph? Speak!" "R-randolph? Ain't nobody h-here by that name!" he stammered. "Scythe!" she retorted. "H-h-he's in the main hall!" "Show me." she hissed back before spinning the man roughly toward the front of the building and almost ushering him forward. Around another corner and they were along the front corridor of the structure. They came to a small foyer which was strangely absent of further guards. The man pointed to double-doors at the rear of the room. "T-there!" he stammered. "Her Grace thanks you for your honesty." Coatleque whispered over the man's shoulder with some practiced measure of sincerity. With that she clocked him over the head with the butt of her sword and sent him sprawling to the floor. Sheathing the weapon she turned to the front of the building and the door there. With no further hindrances the door swung open. She stepped to the side and leaned against the jam to regard the faces of the Dauntless who had finished dispatching the majority of Scythe's men out front. She pointed back behind her towards the room. "Gentlemen...", she greeted them. "Our man lies within."

hahahahahahahahahah you suck! <3

Another picture of Crofte said 13 What did I do wrong? {edit} I also entered one of Tiergan's portraits of her and it came back as 24 which is closer to what I envisioned. So props to Tiergan

From the Goblet she made her way to the Grindstone. It had been almost two days since she had even dared leave the estate - pressed for time as she was to find any evidence she could before it was whisked away out from under her. Confrontation would be inevitable and she would not be the one to shy away from it. Not now. She knew who would be present tonight, as he always was, and she intended to prove her own resolve was equal to his. What she did not know was that Osric Melkire was also there. And he was not alone. Quietly and angrily she stood off to the side of the tourney with crossed arms as the Sergeant spoke loudly and purposefully enough for her to hear. Drinks at the Coffer & Coffin. She had played this game long enough to know his intent and while the woman had no interest in drinking with the man who shot her most recent lover, she could not ignore the need emphasized in his letter. Hesitantly she stepped into the bar. One step, two steps. Her eyes scanned the room slowly until spying the man off to the side. He was sitting at a table in the corner being attended to by a silver haired woman with purple eyes. Neither of them noticed her entrance just yet. The woman smiled at her ward and laughed lightly. "I hope it's more than me being your maid service." Coatleque moved past them and straight to the bar. Her strides where long and pronounced by her heels upon the wooden floor. Smiling politely for the owner she requested a full bottle of his finest rum from the top shelf before sliding an appropriate sum across the counter from her purse. Her head turned to the side as she awaited the barkeep's return. She had noticed the man's gaze followed her from the door to the bar. His attention pulled away just then only to address the woman next to him with a shake of his head. "It's you always bein' here for me." The other woman reached over and began to rub between his shoulders, her own eyes flicking to the bar momentarily. The Paladin then recognized the hues of her eyes and turned back to the bar. "You can stay..." the man continued. "Ain't like I won't be repeatin' this t'you later anyroad." His voice had purposefully raised just enough to reach the bar. Having received her bottle the paladin turned and walked to the corner table to join the others in time to break into their conversation. "Either way... if it's going to make her..." The woman's eyes lifted to Coatleque as she approached. "As I was saying, if you don't feel comfortable speaking with me around, I can head outside for a few..." Osric exhaled slowly before raising his mug to his lips. He sipped. "That's up t'her." Coatleque did not wait for greetings or permission. She simply sat herself at the table and set the bottle before her. "Thirsty, Sergeant?" She asked before sliding the rum across the table towards him. "Consider it a gift." She had nothing more to say to the man at that point. Her stern expression did not hide the fact she did not care for this meeting, but even she knew that a truce was necessary for the greater good. What better a peace offering for a soldier than booze? He glanced at the bottle, his mug held firm in his left hand while his right arm hung limply at his side. It was soon apparent that he also had no desire for pleasantries. "You have questions, I have answers. Ask. Then we'll do this the other way 'round, if y'care to." She peered at him for a moment unsure of how to proceed tactfully. Many thoughts raced through her mind, including the question of what he wanted engraved on his headstone. Her fingers laced together upon her lap and her posture became rigid. One eyebrow quirked, but not other display of emotion was evident. "Alright..." she began, "What in the Twelve's names were you thinking?!" Osric snorted and took enough time to sip from his mug again before choosing to answer. "What needed doin'." "Marching a small army through a secret Monetarist prison to carry out your vigilante justice without writ or warrant?! I hardly call that something that 'needed doing.'" She protested with her own condescending tone, distaste clearly present on her tongue. The other woman remained silent, composed. Her lavender eyes darted from one to the other as they spoke. Osric slammed his mug back down to the table then, rattling the very wood and jostling the bottle that was set before him. "AND WHAT OF HIS FEUD WITH LAZAROV?", he bellowed. "WHAT OF EVERY GODS DAMNED SOUL THAT'S SUFFERED, PERISHED, OR OTHERWISE IN A PERSONAL DISPUTE BACKED BY THE SULTANSWORN WARMIN' HIS RUTTIN' BED?!" Her eyes narrowed and a small curl came to her lips at the slight, but she did not flinch at the loud slamming of the mug. Nor did she recoil from the man's voice that screamed at her across the table, merely 2 fulms from her face. The other woman jumped, however. He breathed slowly, in and out, before giving a "Tch" and looking away in his own disgust. Speaking up in her own defense, her voice remained calm even as it was forced through her teeth. "What do you THINK I have been DOING this whole time? I have been USING Jameson's resources to track the man down." She said rather pointedly. Osric barked a laugh. The differences between their methods could not have been more night and day than this moment. "Let's get this straight, shall we?" He muttered, his voice lowering enough to only carry to those seated around him. "Please." "I cut a deal with the pirate. Jameson for what Nero knows o' the mess in Pearl, what with him traffickin' weapons in. And while I was at it, I set Delial's fangs pointed Nero's way. Meanwhile, y'sat in the lap o' luxury and bided your time and... what? Where's Roen? Where's Nero? Do YOU know anythin' o' Pearl?" His icy glare would have cut through were he not genuinely interested in her answer. Of finding out anything he could on what Nero was planning for the city, the gangs. She listened intently though only her eyes would tell. Slowly turning from anger to sorrow her head shook slowly. "You are all so quick to shed blood for blood." She began. "You sicken me. Yes, I know about the bandits, the guns. A man named Scythe is leading them. Nero was supposed to call them off but has gone quite mad it seems." She sighed. This was a repeating pattern she was so weary of addressing. "When does it stop, Sergeant? Who's blood is too precious to spill?" Her emerald eyes shot to the woman beside him, but she wisely held her tongue rather than suggest what she thought. There was a long pause. Osric leaned back with a sigh and pulled his mug from the table to sip its contents. The paladin's head shook slowly once more, her expression even more worrisome. "Your silence speaks volumes." She said at length. "Do you think I enjoyed bringing Roen in?" The other woman now peered over the rim of her own cup to Coatleque. "... far as I'm concerned," Osric started, "the bloodshed ought t'end with Taeros. And my 'silence' is a collection o' thoughts longer than you'd ever care t'know." He was right in that. "Shite, Crofte, did you?" "I can never make right how I've wronged her, but it was necessary." She stood by her own actions. "She was abetting a murderer." It was funny how such a crime was damning to some but barely a hand-wave for others. "Remind me who goaded and sicced Natalie this way n' that, eh?" Osric leaned closer to her as if to emphasize the conviction. "Od'hilkas was there, Crofte. And it goes back farther. You weren't around for Epinoch." "Mcbeef was a weak-willed fool. You know that as well as I." A lie. Or at least a fallacy. Natalie Mcbeef was one of the most strong willed Sultansworn that Coatleque ever knew. But she placed swift action over calculated planning. "One weak-willed fool in a line o' many, and you're the latest, if you've no mind t'pull head from arse and think for a gods-damned moment. Where's Roen's pearl t'Nero? I know she had one." Her head turned away from the man to look down at the empty table before her. Unclear if he was genuinely concerned for her own well-being, or simply convinced that she was nothing more than a tool at this point. "You speak of past events and names as if I do not know the evils that have been manifest by Jameson's hands." She exhaled slowly. "But what you fail to differentiate is the greater threat. Nero divided our attention, and thus gained more time than he needed. The pearl is destroyed. I used it. Nero returned my call to him, then destroyed his." Her voice wavered. "And whether you kill him or not, Sergeant... you may have delivered the man into an even greater evil." A sigh was heaved from across the table. Osric stared darkly into his own mug as his own thoughts swirled. The mug reached the table without the anger it bore before and he rose, stepping over to her. His left arm crossed to his right. "What did he tell you? And what happened? The tunnel didn't collapse. I saw the armor, but..." "Nero told me... that he no longer cared if the city lived or died. He has no intents on stopping the coming slaughter. And James... only said one last word to me. 'Banurein'. I do not know this woman save for mention by Roen, but I knew the fear in his eyes before..." her voice trailed off. "Raelisanne." he hissed quietly. The woman across the table blinked and looked up. "You mean the one... sh-she supposed looks like me." Her own voice trembled slightly as if she did not want to believe it. "If it weren't for this pissin' feud 'tween Taeros 'n Lazarov, I might've found her already." The Sergeant turned to Coatleque. "I was on her trail when this shite started." "Well... now we both have reason to find her." she said rather clipped. "Scythe," she continued, "is the larger threat, Sergeant." She eyed the man now standing beside her. There was no immediate answer except that he turned and raised both wrists to her, the right laying over-top the left. She blinked at his submissive gesture and even considered taking him in. "Once I asked," he said, "This time, I'm offerin'. But you know better." A smirk crossed his face. The same shite-eating grin she had seen him wear whenever he was sure the odds were in his favor. "As y'say, Scythe is still out there." Coatleque stared at his hands. The woman across the table looked worried herself as her lower lip pulled in and under her teeth. The paladin took a long, slow breath before standing. "For the Sultana." She turned to leave. She could not stay any longer in his presence. The man blinked and winced slightly before turning and taking his seat again. She stopped after a step and looked back. "There is one other thing, though." "Crofte, I've a whole load o' shite t'sit down and walk y'through. One more thing won't make much of a difference." "This may." Osric swallowed as his right arm fell limp at his side and he wiped his eyes with his left sleeve. "You mentioned Delial," she said in warning. "I would not expect to see her again. Enjoy the rum." The Flame squinted and watched her as she walked away. "Aye, loads t'discuss and you're off? Figures. Go. do your gods-damned job this time." She stopped just at the door but did not look back. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides. "That was too far.", she replied coldly. "You know nothin'."

Papers. Ledgers, contracts, bills of sale and lading for trades made. She had been pouring through everything in Jameson's office for the past two days since the incident in the tunnels. Searching for anything that would connect him to Banurien. Some sign of where he had gone - or where she would be keeping him rather. Putting pen to paper once more off to the side she jotted a few additional notes. Names, places. A possible connection no matter how small. Two contacts in Gridania she had heard mention of before during her time at the manse. Turning back to the ledger in front of her she barely heard the door open as Mister North entered carrying a silver tray. Crossing the room quietly he set the tray upon the desk in the same place he had always set it, pushing aside whatever documents previously occupied the space. There was tea, a mint, some dry looking biscuits, and additional ink. She looked up and offered a meager smile to the man. "Mister North. I am surprised to see you still here." "Indeed, Miss?" She was not, in truth, surprised at all to see him. His exquisite sense of propriety amazed her on an almost daily basis. While most of the rest of the estate was already emptying he had remained behind to see that she and any other guests were well attended to and for a brief moment she worried there may be more to it than the will to serve. She gestured to one stack of papers set aside from the rest. "It appears this manse is to be sold, and soon. Have you nowhere else to go?" The man did look up then with a raised eyebrow. Probably the most emotion she had seen from him in the past few days. "My. Change is indeed in the wind, Miss. But there are places I can remain for the moment, as I decide on my next course of action. However, I shall remain here as long as I am yet needed." With a bow he began to move about the room to dust the furniture as if nothing had changed. Shaking her head once, her gaze lowered back to the work in front of her. A few more notes were taken in silence as the butler continued his own business about the room. Glancing at the platter resting nearby she dared to speak up if only for her own conscience. "You have served Lord Taeros quit admirably. I daresay he may have trusted you as much as he did me." "Miss is most gracious to say so." The scratching of her quill on the parchment stopped as she considered her own words. She lifted the pen and tilted it to her other hand to play with the feather idly between her fingertips. "Did he... say anything to you? Anything I should know?" She did not dare look up. "Regarding, Miss?" "Oh, anything really. Where he was going, what he had planned? All I've found are financial records and names of dead business partners." Jameson was, if nothing else, very exact in his record keeping. Legitimate transactions were kept succinct, clean. And the illegitimate affairs (if they existed) had no trace to be found. She looked up from the documents in time to catch Gideon's gaze. "He informed me of my dismissal shortly before the incident transpired, Miss. He also informed me he would be going somewhere a man of my talents would not be needed, to use his words." Her gaze lowered once more as she read through lists of numbers and names again. "That does not make sense... from what I've gathered he was transferring funds to the north." "He had mentioned Ishgard prior, but not with any conclusive decision. It seems he was examining his options. I do not know what he settled on, if anything." "I see." The man glanced once to the map hanging behind her before retuning to his dusting. Coatleque pored vainly over the numbers in front of her again until they began to blur within her sight. "Stubborn bastard, where did you go?" She muttered to herself out loud. "Miss?" She glanced up to him with her own lost expression before realizing she was overheard. The unintended slight was waved away with a hand and a sigh. "He mentioned a name in the tunnels..." she continued. "Did you happen to overhear amidst the chaos?" "Indeed so, Miss. Being withdrawn from the fray, I observed as much as possible. However... I am afraid it was unfamiliar to me, Miss." She replied with only a defeated nod before returning the quill to the inkwell. "I had hoped I could find some connection, but... nothing." "Banurein, Miss?" She nodded. "I have heard this name before." "I... believe I have as well, somehow, but..." She tilted her head. "Miss Deneith knows this name as well. Though I doubt I shall... ever see her again." There was a moment of wistful silence shared between the two before he spoke up again, still carrying out his duties from the side of the room. "This figure is a common thread between the three of you, Miss?" "It was not until now." She watched him for a moment longer and as she did a lingering feeling of regret began to surface. Since the first night she had spent with Jameson back in Limsa and nearly every night since, Mister North had attended to her in some way or another. He had served her lord faithfully over these past moons when even she herself had not been entirely transparent with her loyalties. Now, due in some part to her failings, he would be without while she still had the Order to return to. A lump rose in her throat. "Might I confide in thee something I have kept secret these past moons?" "As you please, Miss." He turned and bowed to her waiting patiently. His expression placid. "Our... affair as it were, was never born out of any desire or romantic interest on my part. Ashamed as I am to admit it, my original intent was nothing more than deception. I wished to spy on Lord Taeros as closely as I could. I would not hold it against you to look at me in any lesser light because of my actions, however I ask you to believe when I say I did come to love him, truly, before the end." She paused expectantly, awaiting his reaction. His consternation, anger, some sort of emotion befitting her admission. None came. He merely bowed once more. "I see, Miss." Her guilt subsided a bit, but it was not quite enough. And so she continued. "Still, the intent was born out of desire to seek this woman, Banurein. While I had only wished to help my friend... I now have vested interest in finding her. I musts..." There was another pause as her hand rose to her cheek for composure. "I must know if he yet lives. And she can lead me to him." "You believe Taeros's final words were outlining this express purpose, Miss?" "What I know is the fear I saw in his eyes. And that whatever happened to him... his remains were not present in those tunnels." She sighed and lowered her head then, closing her eyes to collect her thoughts. Gideon paused only momentarily in thought before returning to his dusting once again. There was another long silence between them before she could speak again. "The bill of sale is legal, Mister North. This estate must be vacated by the end of the next week." If the man was affected at all by this news, he did not show it. "Very good, Miss." "If you have need of further employment..." she offered, "I know of a young lady from La Noscea. Perhaps she may be in need of a valet." "Thank you, Miss, but my further engagement is of comparatively low priority to Miss's other affairs." His words came gently yet reassuringly. "I advise focusing only on that which requires your attention, lest Miss tire and stress herself even more than the circumstances already demand." She looked back up to him with an understanding smile. "As ever, you are too kind Mister North. I would be remiss to think of you wandering the city looking for a place to spend the night. I, at the least, have the barracks to return to." He chuckled slightly but did not turn from his task. "I have never lived what could be called a frivolous lifestyle, Miss, and room and board were provided gratis. I will be able to subsist on my savings from employment at the manse for quite some time." Coatleque nodded slowly. "Then I need not worry. If you have need of anything, simply ask. It is all I could do for faithful service to my... my beloved." She rose then from the desk and gathered the papers she had been taking notes upon, rolling them up and placing them into her gil purse. She adjusted her beret as she turned to face him. "Does Miss require anything further today?" She stepped forward around the side of the desk and deposited her silver key which Jameson had given her. She had been hesitant to use it up until now, preferring not to steal what she needed from the man she loved. With him gone she no longer held back. There was no further use for it save a memory she was not intent on keeping. She had other things she would much rather remember him by rather than misplaced trust. "Nothing further, Mister North. I have collected what little I had here into a trunk. I will send someone for it within three days." "Miss is leaving immediately?" He sounded mildly surprised at that. "There is nothing else for me here. I am sure you understand." He paused, just long enough to be noticeable. A very uncharacteristic display of emotion on his part. "Very good, Miss. I shall prepare the manse for its future occupants' inspection." "As you will. I wish you luck wherever the Spinner places you." "To you as well, Miss." Gideon cleared his throat, clearly finding this parting to be awkward. "Then, Until we meet again, I suppose." She tilted her head with as caring and genuine a smile she could muster before quietly letting herself out of the office.

Coatleque has a plain ring carved from a seashell that was given to her by someone from her past. It shows signs of passing through fire at some point, and a crack which has been repaired. She keeps it in a small wooden container by her bedside. She has also obtained a scorched and somewhat melted locket which belongs to someone she cares for. She intends to have it restored when she is able and return it to him if possible.

Then at least in my case, they will be sorely disappointed. The only "mods" I will ever pay for are released by the developer and had better include a hell of a lot of content (Like Hearthfire, if we're using Skyrim as the example)

Luckily, mods are not available exclusively through steam. You can find much better mods (and software to management), typically, through other sites such as nexusmods. The best way to fight it is to simply not use Steam for mod management.

I am still here!

We're all pink on the inside.

Welcome to the forums. I've also read over your wiki. Your character looks fun and I hope to see her around sometime. Or perhaps I already have and she just doesn't remember...

Do you mean a simple remaster where they just make it work on new computers but don't fix anything? Because the remasters I've tried so far have all been huge let downs. Games I wish they would re-make, as in all new graphics and engine but leaving everything else the same: - Baldur's Gate / Icewind Dale - Neverwinter Nights - The original NES Zelda, Metroid, and Contra (as top-down and side-scroller games ala "Trine") - Wolfenstein 3d and Doom (again, as they were originally conceived) Some old Commodore 64 games: - Jump Man / Wizzard - Castles of Dr. Creep - Maniac Mansion / Zac McKraken - Lode Runner (there was a Win95 version created by Sierra which was awesome)

Good day and welcome to the forums. For a quick and dirty start, Ul'dah seems to be the largest "open RP" spot on the server to jump into. If you could tell us a little more about your character we may be able to point you to a more specific area of expertise.

...their are limits as to what can be acceptable for me.... I wouldnt avoid her..but I do think my char would have to think she'd been in the sun too long. This has been my approach, usually.... I must also agree on this. I always give new people the benefit of the doubt, keep myself open to new contacts, look for ways to expand my RP network. If my RP style does not mesh with someone else's, I don't outright ignore them - I just limit IC contact to what is absolutely pertinent. Another side to this is a bad (in-character) first impression. I can point back to that smear article that Eva paid Spahro to write. Crofte has run across many people who on first impression will go right to that and deride her for it. Before I can even get to know these people, Crofte is already snubbing them for their rudeness.

I am scared to ask. ... but curiosity overcomes. [ifstilldoing, plz]

Welcome to the forums, and I hope to see you around!

Pain is what she had remembered first. Not cutting or searing, but a throbbing from within her midsection that permeated her whole body. Had she not been armored, Warren's blow would have easily broken her back and cut short another life this night. Stumbling backwards, her body met the stone wall of the tunnel and her vision flashed white. Then the gunshots. Two of them, to her left. The sound of a gunblade clattering to the stone below. There was the figure of Osric Melkire laughing, crying, singing, bleeding out on the floor. An armored figure stepping backwards from him. She realized then the trick that had been played on them all. "Weigh, heigh, and up she rises~..." "No..." Jameson staggered backwards, moving up the hallway. Blood seeped from the blackened holes in the middle of his armor. "Gideon---" he choked. Time slowed as she watched him stumble. The blade slipped from her hand as she lurched forward towards him. "Weigh, heigh, and up she rises~..." "James!", she cried futily. No aid came however. The sounds of combat continued behind her as Warren struggled with Jameson's guard. From within his armor something else began to pour out. A viscous blue and luminescent liquid that resembled the sea beneath the moon's light. He looked down and grimaced beneath the visor. "No." "Weigh, heigh, and up she rises, early in the mornin'~" She nearly tripped in trying to reach him. His voice stopped her in her tracks though as the helmet looked squarely at the Flame Sergeant back down the tunnel. "You FOOL, do you know what you--" Amidst the hate there was fear in his words, though only Coatleque could feel it. More of the blue liquid dripped from the wounds now, far more it than blood. A strange glow began to seep from the very cracks and joints of the armored plates he wore. She saw the gleam of his eyes though the visor's slit one last time, felt the fear behind them. The the resignation to his fate. "Banurein," he whispered to her. There was a final look of warning before he implored her to "Run!" The armor began to shake. "N-no...," she whispered even while taking her own staggered step backwards. Would that he could see the fear behind her own visor. There was nothing else she could have done, and the will to live overtook both fear and sadness. She knew he would have saved her even if he could not save himself. So she ran, turning about and flailing her arms at the forgotten paladin approaching her from behind. "Run!" She cried, "RUN! Get back!" The man uttered his own curses, sheathing his blade and turning to hoist the downed Flame and carry him to safety. As they neared the next two figures, Coatleque reached out and forcefully pulled the one off of the other; She was not even sure who it was. The armor itself shook, flashed, hissed... A bright flare. Then silence. She stopped and released the woman she had been half-dragging with her to look back just as the suit of armor toppled face first to the ground. "James?!" She called out. Not waiting for an answer she left the others where they were and raced back to the other end of the tunnel. There as no movement. No sound or sign of life within. She collapsed immediately next to it and rolled the armor over to its backside. Surprisingly light for what she expected. And also empty. She stared in a mixture of horror, shock, and loss, as she examined and prodded the armor for any signs, any traces of what had happened. There was heat. The smell of burnt hair and singed flesh, but no ash left behind. She began to mumble his name to herself repeatedly. "James, James, what did you do? Don't do this to me..." Even in this state, though, she could tell he was simply gone. Not dead yet not present. It was perhaps this realization that kept her from breaking down right there. Her head slowly turned to see others backing slowly up the tunnel towards her. She turned back to the armor to examine it one last time. Within one of the gloves she found a locket, familiar yet now charred and slightly melted. The picture within burned to nothing. She gazed at it before scraping some of the blackness away with a nail, then quickly pocketed it. Rising slowly she joined Brynnalia at her side to meet the imposing figure now closing on them with drawn blade.

It was a revolution. There was no "internal" until after the war was finished, and at that time the change had already become reality.

Drastic change never occurs peacefully. But on the idea of Lolorito assuming power and the dynasty changing - there are hundreds of examples through history of noble houses coming to power the same way. I do not think this is crossing the line of believability at all.

So the recent shift of power in Ul'dah has gotten me thinking more in-depth about what it means to be either Royalist or Monetarist. I suppose I should shine the Sounsyy Signal™ right away. When talking about Royalists I think it is important to distinguish what exactly they believe in. The term itself would imply that they believe Ul'dah should be lead exclusively by the monarchy, whoever that would be. I think there is a pretty large difference between a "Royalist" and a "Nanamoist". Think about those two terms briefly. In contrast would be the Monetarists whom favor the "council of 6" style of government with the Syndicate. I think they would clearly prefer the monarchy be dissolved into just another seat on the board of directors. That they are all wealthy is secondary to the principal. So comparing these views, who has actually come out ahead with Lolorito's power grab? Do we think he is the kind of man who would share power? Looking at some of the rumors around the city, it certainly paints a picture of consolidation rather than disbursement. If we see a new dynasty emerge, who's position has actually been weakened here? The facts as I see them show that Nanamo was a very weak leader. The Royalists have everything to gain from this, barring a civil war. And the Sultansworn (assuming they aren't all fired for incompetence) have a new boss.

Coatleque rarely uses a shield as it is. Even the description of gladiator says the shield is optional. I wish SE would actually implement that. She uses a hand and a half sword, so she can easily switch between both styles. I don't need to level another class just to RP that concept.

As a five-breasted succubi with numerous spawn, Crofte finds Flash to be most effective before combat.