Coatleque

A solid 4.

I RP with anyone. If you can catch me first.

Does this apply now that he's gone?

You description was adequate enough. I deemed no further argument necessary in the interest of preventing further divergence from the main topic.

When the counterexample is an unknown to the second party, it is not a counterexample. The burden of proof is then laid back on the one giving said example. In either case, the poster clarified himself and the discussion can now continue.

Disagreement does not automatically ascribe truth to the dissenter. I can also list meaningless names to a third party and claim the argument invalid.

There is a fine line between fantasy and absurdity. Only one of them makes for good role-play.

This may look like shameless self-promotion, but it's the most recent example I have of what you might call 'good' combat RP. Starting with this post, the next few posts describe the lead up, battle, and resolution of a 10-man fight that was entirely unscripted and uncoordinated. There were no rolls made and no OOC coordination save for "Be at in minutes". I have the raw log as well if you want to see parts that were cut out due to character perspective of the poster.

It did not take long for the group to rendezvous with Brynnalia ahead in the tunnels. Coatleque had taken up the lead with scimitar drawn at the first sight of bodies before. Jameson and his guard flanked each other as discussed while the robed man and Mister North brought up the rear. None of them had the grace or tact of a scout, and if the intruders had not been aware of their approach they certainly were now. Most of the torches were either taken or extinguished. Brynnalia glanced over her shoulder at the Sworn's arrival and tilted her head towards the tunnel ahead. "I think this needs more light around here." Drawing her bow back she lit and released a single flaming arrow towards the darkness. Time could have stood still as they watched the arrow fly through its long arc into the tunnel ahead. It seemed to bounce of a solid object and explode to the side in fiery sparks as a voice bellowed "Archers...!" Coatleque took another step forward, sword outstretched in a defensive position. "Lazarov!", she cried in response. A sickening crunch and gurgling cry came from the front. Still too dim for either side to see what was happening, Brynnalia let fly more flaming arrows to light up the tunnel. Shadowy figures ducked behind the large shape in front with drawn sword flashing in the light. She cursed and looked towards Crofte who had taken another step forward. "Paladins!" "Incoming charge!" Coatleque yelled as she suddenly side-stepped the shield barrelling down upon them. Her scimitar turned back as she swept it low to catch whoever it was by the shin and trip them as with a giant hook. The move was almost anticipated as the oncoming paladin stopped and dropped to one knee. The flash of a blade from the side caused her to jerk her blade upwards, hilt held high, to parry. Their blades now locked, she pressed towards her opponent to keep them as such. The sounds of combat now rang through the hallway as figures before and behind moved through the dim light to press their chosen targets. Coatleque held fast, but could not make out Lazarov amidst the shadows that danced between flames. She pushed against the man before her. "Who are you that you are helping this murderer! He will face justice this night!" There was a cry of pain behind her before the man's blade pressed back against hers in an attempt to regain control. The same deep voice that had warned of the archer before now growled accusingly at her. "You defend the man pulling the strings?! Despite everything he's cost us, cost you?!" "HEAL ME! HEAL ME!" The woman did not let up, but her eyes went wide under her mask as she recognized the voice. "You!" she hissed. "You side with this man for your vigilante justcie!?" A shape moved behind Warren but did not escape her sight. Now moved by anger as well she pushed against Warren's blade with all she could manage to force him backwards into the one attempting to pass. A futile attempt on her part as he outweighed her considerably. The man planted a foot behind and stood his ground. "You back a puppetmaster! You serve one who serves himself! What was his bargain for your part, Crofte? Do you think he's a replacement for John?!" Never before had he referred to her by last name alone in her presence. To add insult he dared mention that name from her past. That name nobody else but her should remember. The murder within her eyes was hidden only by the Blade's mask over her face. "You are not worthy to speak that name to me!", she nearly spat at him. Twisting her blade free, she spun quickly to her left, rolling against his shield before stopping behind and lashing out with one leg against his to force him over. His knee met stone once more as his body twisted to keep the shield between her blade and himself. "Oh, so what is it then Florence?! Are you content to throw away what you've worked for to take the path of least resistance?! Are you a Sultansworn, or are you a puppet of the Syndicate?" There was a fire gleaming in his own eyes, an outrage gleaming in the light of burning arrows. "What ARE you in the dark, Florence? A pining housewife? Or a defender of the people?!" It was then that Coatleque realized their positions were reversed on the field and Lazarov was within striking distance. Warren's words gave her only brief pause. "I am a servant who knows the difference between revenge..." She turned to the pirate to her left. "and JUSTICE!" There was a lunge towards the man as she noticed an immediate opening. Warren saw his own opening, however, and immediately brought his blade down upon hers in full force. Whether by sheer luck, or fate, the blades met at the crossguard of her scimitar before she could bring it to bear. It fell clattering to the stone as she drew back cradling her wrist in her other hand. Her attention was no longer on the man before her, however, as she saw the armored figure further to her left collapse to a knee. "NO!", she cried out. All at once she tucked her shoulder and threw herself to the left at the closest figure to her. Suddenly an unexpected obstacle tumbled in front of her and she tripped, toppling forward just as a sharp blow hit her square across her back. She fell to the stone floor, coughing and gasping for air even through a pained groan. Her vision blurred as the battle raged around her. One arm reached forward and pushed as she tried to lift herself in vain. Instinct began to take control as her left hand reached to her boot and withdrew a long iron spatha. As the stonework came back into focus again her hand reached forward and dug the blade between the cracks in the ground as a lever to pull herself up with. "MELKIRE! WHERE is LAZAROV!?" She rose to one knee and jerked the blade from where it was wedged with her sword arm. Her vision cleared just in time to see Warren barrelling down upon her once again. "You defend he who would defile the Sultanate! What kind of 'Sworn are you!?" She could not defend but only scramble backwards, finally rising to her feet though clearly in pain. She fell back against the wall, her eyes locked on Warren's just as a gunshot rang out through the tunnels. *BLAM* She felt nothing but pain as her back met the stone wall. The sword slipped from her hand and clattered to the stones. *BLAM* She slid against the far wall as her gaze fell upon Osric Melkire, and the smoke rising from his direction. "...no.", she stammered.

Meanwhile . . . She had not known that Roen escaped. This news hit her even harder than the rumored intruders as Brynnalia Callae explained the situation to her over linkpearl. "What?! Where is she?" Desperate words from an equally desperate woman who had seen her every attempt at bringing the man to justice thwarted or subverted by incompetence. And now she was to believe the man himself was leading some haphazard assault on a secret prison? "...I have no idea. But ye want tae get Lazarov? This be the perfect chance." "Fine, fine. I will be there. I only know of the entrance from the manse." "We gatherin' in the office now." She was met just outside by a Brass Blade she did not recognize. Most likely a new recruit. He stopped her with a halt before questioning her business. She pulled off her visor and glared. "My business with him is rather private." There was a moment before the blade realized who she was from a description given and quickly backed off. "Un, in there, milady." he stammered. Muttering to herself about 'bureaucratic inconveniences' in security, she pulled the turban and visor back down over her eyes and pushed her way through the door into the office. Inside she was immediately greeted by what could have amounted to the small army of those assembled. Miss Callae stood to the side of the room while Jameson's latest security asset stood silently by the door per usual. A cloaked figure that Coatleque remembered from days before was also there, though nowhere nearly as dark and mysterious as the last time they met. An argument was being waged between Brynnalia and the cloaked man, whom appeared to be a thaumaturge of some sort. She was reminding the man of his contractual obligations while he did his best to weasel out of them. Coatleque nodded her approval to the heavily armored figure by the wall before inclining her ear to focus on what was being said beyond the office division. Jameson was there with his valet, and his well-being was of more import than cowards to her at the moment. "The guards posted underground reported a group, one of whom matches the description. Headin' toward the Black Cells. I can only imagine it be Lazarov." Brynnalia began to relay what little information they had when she realized Coatleque had arrived. "Heading? They simply let them pass?" The sworn asked rhetorically. Their thoughts were cut short though when Jameson rounded the corner of the division in full-plate armor matching the heavily armored guard by the door. She quirked an eyebrow almost amusingly at the sight of him before stepping forward. "James? What are you doing?" The man lifted his visor. "They think it's Lazarov." "Yes, I've heard but..." Her weak objection was only met with a smile. "Well it seems for once we'll be engaging in intense physicality back-to-back." "Milord, is that... are you...?" "Insane? Yes. I have considered that. Do try not to point me out in combat. I require surprise to be on my side." "Your side? An unnecessary risk!" She stepped forward again as if she could personally stop him or change his mind. He could not see the worry behind her eyes through the mask. "You do not mean to face this man yourself?!" Jameson's expression turned suddenly serious. "Oh, I do." She opened her mouth once more to object but the familiar look in his eyes silenced her. Her lips pursed as her defiance began to fade before stepping to his side and bowing her head submissively. "I will stand with you." He directed his attention to the guard by the door then. "You will flank with me. We will take the fight straight to the teeth of Lazarov and remove them, tooth by tooth. Coatleque, I will require you to take whomever is leading their charge. If it's Lazarov, and he is not leading from the rear, let him through to me." She and the guard nodded almost in unison. "As you will, milord.", Coatleque replied. "Mr. North, I fear your finery is at risk." "Sir...?" "Your clothes. I am afraid you will have to bill me for the bloodstains to come. Apologies in advance." "... I am sure I will manage, sir." The raven-haired rogue, meanwhile, regarded them from the side of the room, touching her linkpearl now and again as more information was fed to her from below. A glance was thrown to Gideon momentarily, but he valet merely stared blankly ahead as he awaited further instruction. Perhaps it was his eerie calm or maybe the buzzing in her ear, but the woman began to shift her weight from one foot to another. "We all understand? No names." Jameson said with stern command to he acknowledgement of all. Brynnalia inhaled and took up her bow to test the string before looking back up to the others. "I'm goin' tae scout ahead." "Take the guard out front with you." Jameson ordered. "Will do." The woman turned on her heals pausing only to glance at Coatleque. "I'll keep in touch with the pearl." The table at the side of the room was then brushed clear and a map thrown down. Coatleque wandered over from the desk to the table at the side of the room to stand by Jameson as they perused over the map, making notes of where the tunnels turned, intersected, and doubled back. Another map was laid down by the robed man with a slight nod of acknowledgement from the Lord and the two compared. "Our chance to rid ourselves of this vermin once and for all. A risk worth taking, no?" Jameson pointed to a particular straight away in the map before glancing to her at his side. She returned a sly smile. "In one fell swoop then? I did not expect him to be so brash." She would not admit that something felt off about all of this. She had spoke to Nero over the linkpearl. He made it clear there was no intention of coming for Roen. Why now would he change his mind? "Let us also assume he has tricks up his sleeve." Jameson added. "Of course. Even he could not make it far alone. Though I doubt a rabble of Limsan pirates would make it far past the bar." The buzz of the linkpearl broke her train of thought as Brynnalia reported in. Coatleque held a hand to her ear listening. "Shall we follow? We have the advantage of knowing these tunnels." Another moment before her hand lowered with a pensive glance to the man beside her. "She counts four targets." "Good." was all the man would say. "Best get down here now. Quick." came a whispered hiss over the linkpearl. Coatleque looked back up to Jameson as the group began to huddle closer to each other. There was a light in his eyes she had not seen for what seemed weeks now. A certain thrill at ending this once and for all that pushed all tiredness aside in the face of what had to be done. He glanced at her one last time before closing the visor of his helmet. "We go."

It's not that hard to imagine really. How do people survive in the northern reaches of Alaska, Canada, Siberia? Before agriculture, we were primarily carnivores. Chances are, the majority of their food is fish/meat and they import grains. Being in the mountains, they probably have an abundance of stone and ore to build with or trade.

Personal Profile [align=left]Character Name: Coatleque Crofte (assumed, not given) Gender: Female Race: Hyur (Highalnder) Domestic Profile Civil Status: Single Place of Residence: Ul'dah Occupation: Sultansworn Free Company: The Coral Sea Social Profile See character wiki for more information Meta Profile See character wiki for more information[/align]

I too echo the sentiment about no vampires/werewolves/demons. Otherwise, the concept looks good on paper. I could say from experience that this system would break down quickly due to peoples (in general) tendency to try and force others to agree with their character concepts. It also encourages more people to play within drawn boundaries of character design and closes off one's imagination. Good idea from a personal gaming perspective. Bad idea from a role-play community perspective.

A "Front" does not imply that war is in progress. They could be there patrolling the border and nothing more. You would think they would be more worried about dismantling the existing Castrums rather than probing a remote border's defenses. Very poor strategy all around from the alliance.

Must echo this 100%. I don't like when others do it to me, I'm not going to do it to them either.

To clarify, I also hold no animosity against those involved. I was not there, as stated. Forgive and forget, right? Just be more mindful of others next time.

"Old tongues" is just that. Old tongues. Even if the languages -did- exist, walking around speaking in them would be like you speaking Latin today. It's a dead language that only you and the occasional doctor might understand.

Humor is one thing. Intentionally spamming unwanted emotes in an already congested RP area will get you blacklisted quickly. I was not there, but I can tell you I would not have stayed.

[align=center]"Show too much compassion, and your enemies will become as dear as your family..."[/align] There was no more conversation as the pair made their way through Jameson's estate. For as much time as she had spent there in recent days, there were still rooms she had never ventured to. Dark hallways that seemed to be forgotten by even the owner. More unexpected were the false walls that led to narrow stone passageways descending ever further under the Goblet. Jameson led her onward with torch held out before them. Perhaps half-way (it was hard to pin-point where she was when traveling fulms below the surface and surrounded by stone) they met his guard once more. "Is she conscious?" The question was met with a nod but no more. Coatleque began to wonder if there was indeed someone within the armor at all. "Follow." Jameson commanded to his man before the three of them continued. Eventually the tunnels opened up into a larger stonework room of holding cells (few occupied, mostly empty) and smaller passages to private oubliettes. The occasional Blade stationed here and there would cast them bored and weary looks as they passed by. An angry leer or two gave Coatleque cause to stay as close to Jameson as she could. It was evident she was here with him to any that would object. It was to one of the side passages that Jameson led her. Through another narrow corridor and past a thick wooden door with massive iron hinges. Beyond was a small holding area just before a private cell. Four of his personal guard stood along the walls on either side, one of them looking directly at her as they passed. An off-duty Brass Blade she had the displeasure of dealing with before. Nervously she kept her gaze forward. In the small alcove outside the cell was a chair up against the wall. Jameson deftly plucked it and set it out from the wall for the prisoner to sit. He then took up a position beside the cell door facing the corner of the wall. "Roen. I have brought an... old friend." Coatleque stood motionless at the end of the narrow hall as a figure appeared in the opened cell door. Even concealed in shadows, she could see the figure sway back and forth out of balance. She leaned against the wall and rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to dismiss the bleariness of her own sight. At Jameson's voice her hands dropped and she turned to the opening, willing herself to finally stand in defiance. Coatleque cast a glance at the man in the corner before stepping a step forward. "Roen?" "Help the girl." Immediately the heavily armored guard, Feres, clanked forward and grabbed the woman by the arm. Coatleque jumped back a step in shock at the sudden movement and treatment as Roen was half pulled out of the cell and roughly delivered to the chair. Her heavy, bloodshot eyes almost refused to stay open and refused to even take in the surroundings. Dark circles had formed after days of sleep deprivation. Her hair disheveled and knotted. She swayed side to side in a circular motion, barely able to keep balanced. "Coatleque would like to speak to you." Jameson added at length. All at once her restraint fled and Coatleque rushed to the woman's side! She knelt beside Roen, pawing and prodding at her, testing for pain or bruises. Jameson's eyes were narrowly trained on the wall as if inspecting the mortar was suddenly paramount. "Roen? Roen! By the Twelve, James, what have you done!?" She cried out in desperation at the state of her friend, still half pawing at her yet trying her best to keep the girl steadied and upright in the chair. The woman was unresponsive at first till her mind slowly began to register that this was no dream. She almost recognized the woman at her side before Jameson glanced over and interjected. "It's not as bad as it seems. check her for bruises. You will find few." He murmured. "We have, however, deprived her of sleep. Every hour on the bell." Coatleque did not need nor care for his approval by then. Content the woman was not in immediate pain she did her best to steady her swaying again, softly patting her cheek to try and focus the girl's concentration. "Roen?" Roen blinked slowly, finally able to focus. She swallowed, or at least tried to. Damp dungeon air was a poor substitute for water, and even that moisture did nothing to alleviate the sand in her throat. "Ser Crofte..." she rasped through chapped and cracked lips. "What do I owe... this pleasure..." Despite her condition she wore an oddly defiant grin though her eyes lacked her clarity of mind. Coatleque turned back to Jameson. "For how long? James? HOW LONG!?" She no longer cared for words. The woman's health was failing rapidly now and she feared how much more she could take at this point. "As long as it takes." he replied sharply. He needed say nothing further for her to know the seriousness of the threat. Coatleque turned her attention back to Roen for the moment. She had little time and did not want to tax Roen beyond what she could bear. "Roen? Roen, listen to me... Nero is planning a bloodbath in the streets. He is not coming, and intends to let it play out. You cannot sit by and allow this!" "I know nothing..." she replied. Her expression was almost that of delirium, twisting between focused clarity and an absent dream-like state. "But they do not believe--" She blinked slowly, her eyes resisting the movement as they re-opened. "... Roen, the Blades are going to slaughter them all. You know this!" She spoke slowly, deliberately. She needed the woman to know the gravity of the situation in the city. Jameson also peered at her now from the corner, searchingly. "Ah. Right. Nero." Her words came slowly. "He thought he could do it... non-lethal..." A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she thought back to whatever words had been traded. "Non-lethal. Moons ago!" The woman swayed as Coatleque once again gripped her shoulder to hold her against the chair. She blinked and her grin suddenly vanished, a sobriety overtaking her expression. "Then he changed his mind!" "Why?" Jameson snapped suddenly. "That makes no sense." His teeth barring now. "He was winning!" Coatleque nodded in agreement but did not look away from Roen. She met the girls gaze, her own emerald eyes flashing in the torchlight, in an effort to draw her back. "I spoke to him. Do you understand? I used the linkpearl, Roen." The girl's head swiveled to Jameson in an almost nodding fashion. She chuckled bitterly again, almost deliriously. "Because you had Daegs--" Her words were cut off at Crofte's admission. Her head rolling back to the front. Her own eyes flashed a temporary sanity "He answered did he..." She stared at the Sworn across from her in a long silence that ended when her shoulders began to shake and her head dipped. Her disheveled locks fell before her eyes. She may have even cried were her body not holding back every ounce of water available. "I did not have him killed!" Jameson snapped once more in a way that belied his weariness of the same accusation being levied. "That dumb bitch Natalie went off script." Coatleque shook her head and focused on keeping Roen's attention a little more yet. "He is not coming. He will let this city tear itself apart... please, Roen... if you know anything...?" "I tried to find them. Him. Scythe." Roen muttered under her breath. "Guns. Guns sold to them so they can make a statement... You remember, do you not? That Elezen...? He died." The Sworn nodded once. "Scythe? He is the one in charge now?" She threw a glance to Jameson as if questioning if he was getting all of this. The man returned his own glance between Deneith and Crofte but remained silent. Roen's voice cracked as she began to speak again, prompting the Sworn to survey the room for any source of water to supply even temporary relief for her friend. "I tried to find him. His gang. To stop them." She slowly shook her head again, almost losing balance. "He said he would stop them but..." Her shoulders began to shake again from what could be a laugh or a sob. "That was another life, I suppose..." Coatleque stared at her friend with horror behind her own eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek before the shell of her friend and she leaned forward to embrace her against the chair. "Roen... I'm sorry. I am so sorry." Jameson looked away with a scowl just then, and Roen did not react either. Her frame was slimmer than Coatleque remembered, obviously from lack of food as well. The woman seemed in a daze at first, but then frowned as focus began to return. The Sworn pulled back again, wiping the side of her face and focused on Roen once more. "Roen, listen to me. I am going to stop him. I have a name of someone who will lead me there. But we need to know who his assassin is. If not him, then his targets. He is out of control now..." Roen maintained her frown as she stared off at the distant granite. "His assassin... He would... He would not hire one. It was not... it was not on his list." she murmured. "He had a list." The woman swayed in her seat once more as Crofte's hand moved to steady her. "Assassins. It was not on his list. Non-lethal." The odd curl to her lips returned. "He wrote that down. Non-lethal." Her shoulders heaved and began to shake once more. "Can you believe...?" Her voice trailed off as her focus was lost. The smile quickly fading to delirium once more. "Why? Why would he? After so much?" Jameson had turned and moved closer to them, no longer content to wander the cell. His anger was apparent. He stared Roen down, or as much as he could to someone in her state. "That makes no sense." Roen looked up at the man through a squint and even Coatleque's attention snapped back to him. "James... she cannot go on like this." The Sworn stood then went to him, grabbing at his hand with an almost frantic voice. "She needs food, sleep, water... please... you asked what I wanted most... I cannot abide by this!" He ignored her. His amber gaze locked on Roen. "The list." Roen continued slowly as if explaining to a child. "It was made many moons ago. Mayhap a year?" She attempted to grin, but the pain in her parched lips stopped her. "So many changes since. So many lies." It was then that Coatleque understood her ramblings. She slowly looked back from Jameson to Roen. "It... is not a list of names." "What is on the list?" Jameson put forth the question to Roen as if it had not yet been asked directly. "Do you not see?" Coatleque broke in suddenly. "It was his plan... the fool wrote down his entire plan...!?" Roen's voice trailed off once more, he expression saddening, but no tears would come forth. She licked her cracked lips in vain. "He was going to take the wealth... without gil then... what is your power...? He even had Blades and Sworns on that list. Circled. I guess... I guess that was me." Jameson's hands began to clench. His brow furrowed and he may have lashed out to strike the woman had Coatleque not held his arm with both hands just then. She squeezed lightly to try and calm the man with a reassuring voice. "James." "Then who--" he stopped himself. Whether her touch or her voice she could feel him relax just slightly. Roen continued to murmur, still in her delirious state. Her eyes drifted to Coatleque before her brows furrowed. "I was in the plan... I guess..." Jameson cut her off just then, either having what he desired or no longer content to wait. "Feed her. Clothe her. No more restrictions, save for no guests. And make sure North knows!" The armored sentinel bowed in acknowledgement before heading off down the hallway once more. The Sworn's relief was obvious. He looked directly at Coatleque and their eyes met. "I said I would give you what you wished. And here it is." With that, the man turned on his heel and strode out of the cell with purpose in each step. The remaining four guards made no motion or acknowledgement. Roen swayed once more in her seat and Coatleque rushed back to her side to help steady the woman. Roen blinked, her eyes even heavier than before as her body fought against what her mind knew would happen should she close them for long. The Sworn leaned towards Roen then and whispered to her. "I will stop him... for both our sakes, I swear it. I never wanted this." The woman's head rolled forward, her grey eyes glassy. She may have even nodded if her head would have lifted on command. "I never wanted..." her voice cracked. She closed her eyes as consciousness began to drift again. "Let me help you, to the bed. Roen, you need to rest." Coatleque offered. Roen's head only rolled forward once more. "Sleep..." she murmured before letting out a slight gasp as if she did not believe it herself. No effort came forth from the smaller woman to stand, so Coatleque took the initiative to lift her to her feet. Holding her with one arm about the shoulders she led Roen back into her cell right to the bed and helped her to lie down. Once situated she pulled the blankets around the woman whom drifted almost immediately to sleep. A welcome feeling after days of laying on the stone floor. Coatleque examined her wrist and ankles, noting the marks from the manacles. She stayed a while longer to ensure the woman was asleep before whispering. "Sleep, Roen... it will be over soon." Her concern was real, even if Roen could not know it in her state. Coatleque wiped the tears from her own eyes before taking a breath for composure and standing. "... for both our sakes." It was nearly half a bell later when she returned to Jameson's chamber. She closed the door quietly behind her and turned to find him standing at his desk staring down at a locket in his hand. At the sound of her entering he quickly closed it and glanced back up. Coatleque slowly walked up behind him. "... who is she?" she asked in slow and curious tone. There was no hint of jealousy in the question. She had seen this locket before resting upon his desk. She even ventured to look within one night while he was away, to examine the coppery-haired woman with the mournful blue eyes within. Jameson did not answer her immediately, nor turn to face her. He did almost smile at her presence though. "But I thought you did not care for the traitor." "Just because I know she must meet justice does not mean she has stopped being my friend." He nodded. "That is why I brought you to her." A sigh followed. "More things are making sense now. And less." "James... why so long? In that state... you need not become a monster to hunt one." She ventured the question with mixed anger and fear at what his reaction may be. He took a deep breath of his own. "Her... stubbornness irked me. But I did not harm her. She will bear no scars from this." "Not physically." He gave her a certain look. "We all bear those." Coatleque shook her head once before lowering her gaze. "Thank you for heeding my demand." "You should have asked for money." he smirked. She blurted out a bitter chuckle. "I have you, though." she offered. "Yes", he said softly while staring forward at the wall. He glanced downward once more and opened the locket. Her eyes followed as well, standing next to him now as she was. "The first woman I ever loved, in truth." he murmured. "A good woman. She... was kind. I was a fool, of course." Her head inclined to the side to rest upon his shoulder. "What happened to her?" A shake of his head. "It does not matter. She is long gone. Dead." "Then I am sorry." There was a shared silence of mournful regret. The same conversation recalling to her mind as she recounted a similar story to him not too long ago. "I promised to guard her memory," he continued, "And all else that remained. And I have... mostly failed in that." Coatleque drew back and looked at him, not expecting such an admission. There was a strained laugh, an odd bit of emotion behind it. "But how many promises do we keep? The ones we made as boys?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "So few." She leaned back towards him, looking down to the locket once more before he closed it. Pressed against him she felt a heaved sigh. "A different list than I expected. You got out of her what I could not. I thank you." "She knows nothing else", she whispered. "It does not explain who is killing all the..." his lips pressed together just then. "No, but I will find out." "If I free her..." he continued, "Will she go flying back to him?" Coatleque looked up at him with a hard stare, taking in the question itself before considering her answer. "Doubtful. Nero has abandoned her." she confessed with no small regret. The notion stung her almost as much as it would Roen. "Whatever madness has taken him, he would sooner see her dead with the rest of the city, I believe. This 'Qujon Zamajon' will either talk, or meet a worse fate than that boy Grimsong maimed." "I will consider it." He heaved another heavy breath at the absurdity of it all. "His love knows no bounds, clearly." There was a disbelieving shake of his head. "If you will excuse me... I have some sleep to try and catch." He pulled away from her, heading towards the back of the room. "Shall I stay with you?" she asked. Her voice more concerned than suggestive. There was a brief temptation before something hardened within him. "No," he whispered. "Go resolve what you need to. And I will do... what I must." "As you wish, my love. Take what rest you can, and dream of me." "I will consider freeing her." "... thank you.", she whispered. He glanced once more at her with what could only be regret before disappearing behind the room division. She lingered for a moment to be sure his mind was indeed made up before turning for the door. She stopped just there, taking notice of the heavily armored guard standing silently to the side. Stepping up to him, she peered with narrowed eyes and a determined glare right at the man's eye-slit. "Nobody sees him tonight. Understood? Not even me." Her command carried an odd weight to it that she had never used before with his servants. The figure regarded her in puzzled silence before nodding. She hummed to herself before taking her leave.

Even if Coatleque acknowledged my presence, I would be too intimidated to say anything.

There was the cold and ruthless businessman that most of Ul'dah had heard of. At times there was the confident and caring man that Coatleque had found. This man did not surface much and even she would sometimes struggle to see him under the mask. Yet it was this man who now led her through the Sapphire exchange to the Hourglass Inn. The pair went on unmolested for the most part. There was the occasional turn of a head and personal confirmation that sight was not deceived. She had learned to turn a deaf ear to such murmurings though. Soon they reached her room. Jameson followed her inside. A rare event in its own right. His guard followed and took up the usual position by the door. It was certainly no estate, and was clear that she hadn't been spending much time within lately. Why should she spend her nights here, after all, when his estate was welcoming and so much more grand. It almost brought the pain of embarrassment to even suffer him here. She gestured to the chair by the corner before disappearing behind the privacy screen by the bed. A storage trunk situated at the foot of the bed itself was opened to reveal multiple changes of clothing of a more practical nature. He did not sit, of course, but wandered the room slowly straitening the odd this or that. A few moments later and she re-emerged wearing a simple doublet and jackboots. "This should suffice." "Yes. Nothing trailing in your wake is the best thought." He replied. She finished the ensemble with a short iron spatha easily concealed along the side of one of her boots. His approval was evident, however. She straightened herself, pulling her hair back just then. "I am ready." Jameson opened the door for her which prompted another smile. "A brief stop at my offices. From there it isn't far." A scant moment later the three were gathered out in the bar once more and ready to leave. That is before a piercing baritone nearly screamed from across the room. "LAAAAAAARD TAEROS!" They paused simultaneously and slowly turned with shared horror to find Lord Mandercrown staggering across the bar towards them. Two people could not have had a more synchronized reaction. Jameson clenched his teeth in visible pain while Coatleque groaned audibly. Jameson's sentinel moved to intercept the drunken Lord with a quick step. "Hay! How's ya! Whoa ho ho! Lock at YOU!" The man began to holler at the pair even from only three fulms away. She found her grip on Jameson's arm tightening out of mixed fear and annoyance before forcing restraint. Sensing her Lord's own tenseness, she decided to step up to the initiative. "Why... Lord Mandercrown. Such a... 'pleasant' surprise. You seem to have lost your pants again." The man was, sure enough, naked from the waist down once again. This seemed to be a repeating pattern whenever the man was in public. Coatleque found herself scanning the bar for the Lady Mandercrown's maidservant (whom the Lord always kept close by). She would no doubt appear any moment to lead him away again. Jameson stepped up as well then with a forced smile. "Lord Mandercrown. What a pleasant surprise." He echoed her sentiments. "My lord, where are your pants?" The man looked himself up and down before bursting out laughing. "Uhhh... I seem to have LEFT them somewhere!" The four of them all stood there now as the clearly drunk man laughed himself till he could no longer breathe. Coatleque only drew closer to Jameson while he in turn sighed disgustedly. Finally the man composed himself long enough to form his next thought. "So about that LOAN, my lord?" There was a brief pause to which she looked up at Jameson expecting him to tell the fool off. It was clear to her that more coin would only be wasted on even more drink, and Jameson would never see a return on such a deal. It was not her business, however, so she bit her lip. "Business at another time. Perhaps when you are less... inebriated." "But then it ain't FUN!" The man burst out laughing again, pleased with his own antics. "If it were fun, it would not be business, my lord." Coatleque found herself speaking up to Jameson's defense just then. "Well, excepting our business." she added as her grip tightened again. There was a deep breath from the man at her side. "Find your pants first. Then come find me. We will talk." But his words were wasted as Mandercrown had suddenly found another interest for the time being. "Oh, cutie patootie...!" He blurted out as he absently tried to meander around the guard to reach her. Thankfully the sentinel, Feres, stepped to the side as well and remained in the man's way. "That is not her name, milord." Jameson interjected. Mandercrown snorted. "Sorry. Rayanne, is it? The North girl?" "North girl?..." She inquired, suddenly confused and looking up to the man she was practically clinging to. "No." Jameson said coldly. "Well fuck, all these redheads look the same to me. Rowan? Wait no, her hair's pink..." "... my hair is not 'pink'..." Coatleque began to protest "Naaaah, I meant ROWAN's hair is pink." Once again the man burst out laughing. "Auburn." she corrected him. "This is Ser Coatleque Crofte. My paramour." Jameson said rather tersely before turning to her. "Shall we go?" She gave Lord Mandercrown one more annoyed glance before nodding her agreement. "Please..." "Pants, milord." With that Jameson began walking off rather determined. Coatleque found herself taking double steps just to keep up with him. She released his arm for the nonze and they continued side-by-side. "Is that man ever sober?" She eventually spoke up. "That that man would actually hold a lordship is an insult to lords." "Judging by what he asked, I doubt he shall hold it for long." she offered. It was clear her attempt to lighten the mood was doomed and so they continued on. The streets were mostly empty save for a passing porter or merchant. Attempts at greetings were met with silence from the Lord. The rest of their walk reminded her eerily of another night the same trek was made. Luckily they reached his estate before things could become progressively awkward, and a slight renewal of their purpose came to head. She followed Jameson up to his office and stood to the side upon entering. Suddenly she felt very much like another guard from her trappings. There was no fire lit yet and it appeared the Valet did not expect his return yet at this hour. Jameson stopped after a step and turned to his guard. "Unchain prisoner Deneith.", he murmured. "See that she has a fresh change of clothes. I do not want her looking unsightly for my beloved." There was a quick salute before the man left the room. Jameson walked around the divide to the second half. Coatleque followed slowly. "... Unsightly?" She asked in her typical inquisitive tone. "Pardon my mood." He replied. "Usually it amuses me." She nodded and stopped just after the divide to lean against the wall. "This night has been one of many moods." she said at length. He frowned, but his back was to her now. "It has." The man began to strip off his doublet to exchange with something more suited for work on the hanger nearby. She watched from a distance, half admiring and half examining for any new scars she should know about. He stopped after taking the shirt down. "He should not have been born to his power. His wealth. I see that walking, stinking, drinking, laughing bag of suet, and I think... that is my coin. He is stealing it. By happenstance of birth." "You needn't give him any more." Coatleque pushed off the wall then and turned to face him. He did not look back just yet but her words gave him sudden pause. "He--" There was a long silence. Jameson stood not willing, or perhaps not able to look back at her. His voice lowered and his muscles tensed visibly in the dim light. "He is loaning it to me." "... w-what?" she stammered before daring to step closer. "It was... a month ago? A mere... safe cache. The obese fool throws coin around as if it means nothing. Why should I not play his little game? I don't need to lick his boots. He is more than ready, willing, to loan me whatever I need just to invite him into my circle." His words did nothing to convince her of any better. She could see the strain on him from just admitting such a thing. At his station, this was tantamount to begging once more. To require aid from another. Her hands balled into fists before she forced them to relax. "But it is not needed, aye?" She offered as both encouragement and for her own curiosity. "Tell me you are not depending on that fop..." Jameson took a breath. "Today's news means I may have to suffer him longer." His lip curled then and she could see his anger coming back to the surface. "I still have many other options. But you wanted truths from me today. I just gave you one." He finally turned to sneer at her. "How does it taste?" The curl to his lip nearly bared his teeth as his amber eyes flashed in anger. All at once the she saw the predator rising again and it caused her to recoil. "Far from droll." she said softly, reassuringly. He sighed at that, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yes. Indeed." A small smile returning. "I came from nothing and built much. I can do so again. If needed." He said softly, his voice lowering more just then. "It still may not be so dire." Coatleque stepped closer still almost venturing to reach out to him. "You... you should have told me sooner. Perhaps I... I don't know... I said I would stand by you, and I have held to that." She wanted to offer more. To help prevent further deterioration of his assets if she could. But what could she even offer? She was no financier. "I am not yet through." He turned to face her finally, his smile broadening some. "But if one day you turn a corner and see me paying the fool an actual compliment, run the other way and never looked back." He ended with a smirk. "I shall keep that in mind..." she replied flatly. He watched her for a moment, silently judging her reaction to all of this news. The concern behind her eyes could not be feigned, however, though if it was concern over him or the coin he may not have been able to tell. In her heart she cared little for his wealth so much as it pained her to see him brought low like this. Contented, he finished changing into a smock of his own. He bussed her on the cheek before leading her towards the exit then, saying "Let us see what spirits we find Roen in." He could not hide his growing anger, though, and she wondered to whom it was directed this night. Her questions, or his admissions.

I would have given Leanne planeswalking. (Lets her attack and not be blocked so long as the opponent controls 1 planes)

Well, I wouldn't say it's "revolving" around it per say. Crofte, for example, is a Sultansworn. So things happening in Ul'dah right now will play heavily into how she reacts to things during Role-play. Everything happening in Ishgard, however, I pretty much ignore.

Sounds great on paper of course. Will never happen when a thousand strangers over the internet converge in one location.