Coatleque

Computers have been a staple of our lives for almost 20 years now. If you don't know the difference between the 'address' bar and the 'search' bar, GTFO of the internet. So tired of spoon feeding people over the phone how to browse to a simple web page.

Coatleque sighed as she quickly and quietly opened the door to Jameson's office. The day had long since ended and there were a few things she would have liked to have in place before he arrived back the next day. A small bundle of sealed letters were tucked under one arm as she rolled her way along the door into the dim light and closed it behind her. She turned only to stop dead in her tracks with a start, much like a child who was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Jameson had returned early and was sitting at his desk and leaning forward slightly. He both smiled, and did not at the same time. "Coatleque. I was not expecting you at this late hour. Are you unwell?" She shook her head once with a blink still surprised at his early return. "James. No, no of course not. I was only seeing to matters while..." Even as she spoke someone else entered behind her, forcing her to stand aside unexpectedly. It was one of the manservants she had seen delivering news before. Jameson gave the man his professional smile and received a nod in return. "Esmond. No need for alarm. It is only Ser Crofte." The pair at the door exchanged glances before she straightened herself off to the side to wait. "Of course, milord", he began. "There is a message." "Ah." An envelope was slid across the desk which Jameson promptly took. The man, Esmond, bowed curtly before seeing himself out. Jameson took up a small dagger to the side of the desk and slit a neat gash along the crease with a deft flick. His brow furrowed as he read whatever news it delivered. Coatleque had meanwhile moved off to the side of the room just beyond the hearth where another table was placed against the wall. She dropped her bundle of letters there before turning to face him again. "What is it?" Jameson sighed. The letter was folded and returned to the envelope as promptly as it had been read. "Business.", he murmured. Unlocking his desk drawer he quickly slipped the letter in before closing and immediately locking it. Coatleque had sauntered her way to his desk by then, with slow, alternating steps that seemed to cross each other. "Now then. What can I do for you?" He sounded weary. Just barely, but she had spent enough time with him now to tell when things were not going as planned. "For me? Nothing. I am not here for me. I expected you back tomorrow. Is something wrong?" Jameson pursed his lips as if considering just how much he could trust her with, and then inclined his head. "A few things. Would that the people I trust the most actually do their jobs." His eyes narrowed as he spoke, his tone taking on an accusing timbre. She cautiously moved closer then, crossing behind him and even daring to reach out and rub his shoulders over the back of his chair. He flicked a slight look of displeasure in her direction before reaching over and taking another sheaf of paper from the unlocked portion of his desk. Coatleque slowly stopped and retreated back to his side and behind. Her head bowed, she said nothing more as she stared towards the floor. Jameson ignored her as he began a new letter addressed to a lord named "Hand". His handwriting was slow and deliberate as if focusing whatever was angering him into the very quill against the parchment. She maintained her silence until he chose to break it. Softly, curtly. "Your task bore no fruit, I note." "My task is not yet complete..." she offered in rebuttal almost immediately, yet softly. "Good. You will be... pleased to know Anden Anduron will no longer be your problem." "... Why is that?" "I have arranged for his freedom... and deportment. Of a sort." "You... are letting him go?" He did not pause nor falter in his writing as the letter continued to grow. From her position she could not make any of it out herself. His voice had become quieter though, more focused. "I need beasts of burden I can count on. He is a blunt instrument to be sure, but no more than some. And he is... loyal." The word was cut off with the click of his teeth as if biting it off specifically. "It is not in my power to let him go. All I am doing is influencing those who do have the power to do my bidding. Surely that is not too hard to grasp?" "... N-no." She took a slow breath and continued to stare at the floor, keeping her position. "He will likely still be facing extradition charges, but anyone who even half cares will need venture up half a frozen mountain to find him." His voice dropped to a murmur just then. "And he can be my eyes, ears, and primary blade in that Halone-forsaken part of the world." "James... is this entirely wise?" She ventured the question, unsure how he would react. She could not remain silent though, knowing what Anden had done. "N-not that I would stop you, but... he is not popular with the people. They will hear he has been released." "Yes, they probably will." Jameson answered almost immediately, as if this had all been thought through. "There will be questions. They won't find their way back to me. I am telling you because you are my paramour and I trust you." Coatleque found herself clutching at the silver key around her neck. She could only nod, quietly. Jameson continued his letter with every bit of determination. After a moment he nodded to himself and set it aside. "Lazarov is gaining on us." He spoke still in a murmur as if he did not want her to overhear. "With every ilm we lose." "About that..." He glanced to her sharply. "Our raid in the Goblet was not entirely fruitless. Now that I know how owns the business. He and I have crossed paths before. A former lover of Natalie's. He does... owe me. Only he has proven elusive to track down." C'kayah Polaali had in truth been absent since the night they attempted to infiltrate his business in the Goblet. She currently had squires out scouring the city to find him. She knew he would not have gone far and was eager to put this matter behind them. "Had I known he was involved beforehand... things would have gone differently." She added afterwords. His expression turned somewhat thoughtful. "Name?" "Polaali. C'kayah Polaali. A smuggler and vagrant." "I see. And what are his feelings about Lazarov?" "I do not know if he was involved directly with Lazarov," she began "but nothing would have passed through his house without him knowing. He is fiercely loyal to Ul'dah and has provided me with valuable information in the past. Which is why I... allow him to continue to operate. If he is aware of Lazarov's intent, I am sure he will talk to me." Whether it was her confession or the news itself, his mood seemed to improve slightly. He did not reply though, only shot her a smirk from the side. "We have one other lead, which..." She cut herself off before continuing as if she had reconsidered even mentioning this. "... Master Gharen Wolfsong is tracking down." "Deneith's... brother." he murmured in response with some distaste. "James... even he can see that you tread the higher ground in this case. He may not like you, but he is helping me. Trying his best to disrupt supply lines to Lazarov. Hinder whatever he is planning." Her concern over him caused another shift of his mood as his expression turned odd. "Love. My friends need not be yours, not vice versa. I rather enjoy our varied paths and associates." He sighed and rose, turning to face her. "We will stop him. I promise." She replied in as reassuring a tone as she could manage. Drawing closer to her, he seemed oddly melancholy for her words. "I have every confidence." A hand rose to toy with her collar as though it had been crooked again. His change of demeanor did cause her to relax from her submissive poise. "I count on you," he said quietly. "You know that." Her head bowed once more. "I know. I wish I was more effective for you. My skills lay in... other areas. But... there was another issue, one of your shipments through Camp Drybone...." "Oh?" "Your valet was injured." His voice remained low. "But you are learning more than a few valuable lessons. And--oh. Yes, he wrote me. I expect his return sometime this night." "So soon?" she said with some astonishment. "I made the trip to be sure he was not on his death bed. With him gone, I have been directing the servants as best I can, but..." Jameson only smirked at her. "Coatleque, that is beneath you. I did not always have a manservant. I assure you I thrived." This was not the first time he had expressed as much when she fussed over certain trivialities of the day. She was finally able to meet his gaze with some measure of confidence though. "And I am beneath you, am I not?" His composure held for a brief moment as he adjusted the scarf around her neck. "Sometimes. Other times I am beneath you." It did not last long before he laughed his typical sly laugh. She looked at him blankly before realizing what she had said and turning her head away, cheeks nearly matching her hair. "Oh, stop." He purred. "You would do anything I requested, barring a third party in the bed. I know you too well." His hand continued to toy with her collar. "As I said... my skills are in other areas." She finally managed to stammer, choosing not to fight the situation. He smiled. "Your news pleases me. I will accept some form of relaxation later tonight. I may have a specific request or two..." With that he tightened the scarf around her neck just a bit. She turned to look back into his eyes. "O-of course, my love. You have been away some time. I imagine you are quite eager." Her expression changed to worry as she examined the crease of his brow. "Yet... you look so weary. Are you sure nothing is wrong?" Jameson's weight shifted as he drew closer to her, his voice turning sad even. "Much is wrong. Much is right. We struggle. That is part of the fun." "But are not the wrongs easier to bear with someone else?" They stood silently together for a moment. "James?... Love?" "Not if they add to the burden." He cupped her cheek with one hand to which she leaned into. "There are times I fear... we walk too different a path." "And other times?" she asked. "And other times I feel we are precisely where we need to be." He kissed her. Softly, swiftly. Her hand rose and held firm against his chest. "I have kept my duty separate from... us. Despite the protests of some. Nobody has found true fault yet." An arm suddenly swept her closer with a deepened embrace, yet his fingers graced the edge of her jaw with a feather's touch. "And they should not. You are my sterling silver, Coatleque. You should remain unimpeachable in most regards." She turned her head against him just then, resting against his shoulder. "Is that for my protection, or yours?" He looked up with a frown though she could not see it. "I can protect myself. You have worked hard to get where you are." He tapped her lower lip with a gloved fingertip. "That being said, I am pleased you see the worth of dogs like Wolfsong." he said with another murmur. His words gave her pause then as she leaned back, looking up to him. "Have I? And where am I?" "I assume you have." His voice turned almost playful. This was a game he nearly enjoyed. "Did you f**k your way to the top?" Vulgarity from him was certainly rare. It would have caught anyone else off guard, perhaps even humorously. "That is not funny." she said pointedly, insulted even. "I had no choice." It was her turn to frown now. "Dear, your past life would have found little purchase. At least in most regards." "... perhaps not, but I was happy. I was to be married. To have my own life. Now... now I serve others for twelve hours of every day." She found herself now pushing away from him, slinking along the wall behind his desk towards the bar. He merely watched her with dark amusement over the whole thing. "It certainly brings to light a question if you did not work to get where you are at." "I was a slave, James. That is not work..." she replied with masked pain. "I fail to make the distinction then, between those skills and the ones needed to move up a Sultansworn ladder. I am however, quite curious now. Married? To whom?" Her annoyance faded into sadness as she turned away from him then. "What does it matter? He is dead now." "What ended him, if I may be so bold?" Jameson came up beside her and selected a bottle of wine and two glasses. Coatleque glanced his way before moving back across the room to the table by the hearth. Quietly she began to sort them into separate piles by what she thought looked important. She honestly did not know if they were, but it was a distraction. "I did." she said at length. He flicked a sharp look her way before going back to his preparations. It was certainly not the answer he expected. She knew more questions would follow so she decided to head them off. "I let him walk away. I let him approach the brigands. I let him die on the beach." Jameson had in the mean time crossed the room to stand between her and the fireplace, holding out one of the glasses for her. She hesitantly took the glass letting her fingers feel his gloved hand before holding the wine quietly and staring at the centerpiece of the table. "It was his choice to approach. You merely allowed it. You did not kill him." His words were offered in at least some measure of quiet reverence as he tried to comfort her his own way. She took a drink and lowered the glass. "Well I certainly did not stop him. And when I cried out I doomed the rest of my village." Jameson listened to her quietly while he sipped his own glass. She closed here eyes then and took a slow breath in, then out. Another drink before she composed herself in front of him. "As I said. What does it matter?" "You did not. The brigands did. Men kill. It does not matter. I am saddened for your village, less so for your betrothed." "why should you be? You did not know them." He shrugged slightly. "Call me selfish. I enjoy your company." Coatleque sighed. "As do I yours. I should not darken the evening with such memories." He shrugged again and she was about to set her glass down when he stopped her. "It is a dark night, dark thoughts are welcome." He raised his own glass in a darkly ironic toast which she joined before draining her glass. After another moment of silence she gestured to the piles of letters. "More business I presume?" "Of course." She turned and crossed the room once more to set her glass at the bar for Mister North to collect later. Jameson meanwhile collected the envelopes and returned to his desk, unlocking the drawer, and laying them within after a cursory glance. Closing the drawer he locked it without further word. Coatleque joined him once more from the left side, again standing slightly behind with her hands folded in front of her. "What dark thoughts cross your mind this eve, then?" "Many and more." He said with a sigh. "I have been seeking... expansion in other locales. As they present themselves. Timely that they should arise just as my troubles with Lazarov take sour turns. And so I must needs... assuage fears." He glanced to her. "You understand the importance of repute." "I do. It is just... do you plan to travel over much?" He frowned. "If I must". It was followed by a slight chuckle. "Why, would you relish a holiday?" She found herself smiling at the notion. "We could both use one. But... no. I was given a rather dire warning by someone." His interest was piqued once more as an eyebrow lifted. "What sort?" "She said that people would be coming for you. That I should not be in their way." The other brow lifted. "And who gave this?" "... who else do you know that is seemingly out to ruin you? Lazarov is no woman." "My dear, I have more enemies than I can count. A hazard of my business. Was it Deneith?" He ended with a knowing frown. "It was." Coatleque found her voice quieting the longer they ventured down this line of questioning. She knew full well what he expected her to do, yet once again she kept to her neutrality. His eyes narrowed on her. "How did she deliver this little missive to you?" "That is not entirely important. What is, though, is your life. I am worried what she has planned." "It is important to me, Coatleque." he replied quietly. She crossed her arms and set her jaw, feigning confidence. "In person. Near the Sancrarium." His expression did not change, thankfully, maintaining a rather neutral look. "And she had you outnumbered." "We were... not alone. And I had another threat to deal with, concerning your favorite Lantern reporter." He made a face at that, and the pressure was seemly thrown off of her apparent failure. "Wonderful. Very well, what is the threat?" She rubbed at her forehead with one hand as if even she could not believe. "Her most libelous work yet. I should have shown it to you for your amusement alone. I decided to spare you the stress. It has not been printed, but her threat was real enough. It would have hurt both you and Lazarov. Painting you as being in league with each other, and with Roen and I trying to over it all up." "She is an idiot who makes up very convenient truths." Jameson observed. She nodded in agreement. "I can handle Miss Llorn, though. Roen... is no longer welcome in the city." She added to reassure him. "What is her exact aim? No one believes her idiocy any more." "To sell her drivel?" "Well then, one thing at a time." With that, Jameson put a hand to his ear. "Esmond. I require you." He was clearly not happy at this point as he unlocked a lower drawer and withdrew a small coffer. From it he retrieved two small bags of coins. Each one he tied with short, sharp gestures. She watched him while they awaited Mister Dirk's arrival. He stopped and stared at the door with obvious displeasure at the lack of promptness. Coatleque decided to distract him with another question, for her own sake if not for Esmond's. "Perhaps I may inquire something of you?" "Yes." he murmured. "How... do you feel about children?" The question startled him almost immediately and he glanced her way. "Why? Is there something I need to know?" "About?" She tilted her head inquiringly before starting herself and waving her hands in quick denial. "Oh... OH! ... no, that is not what I meant!" Mister Dirk quietly entered the room just then, bowed, and stood straight in front of his desk. "My lord." Jameson's attention was turned back to the man while Coatleque once again had to compose herself, face flushing red. "I require you..." he began, "to contact two mercenaries and bring them to me. Tonight. The Holbrook girl, and the meaty cretin she keeps in tow. I have need of their services." With that he shoved the two rather thick bags of coin across the desk. "Fully armed. Their first task will be carried out at dawn." Esmond took the bags and tied them to his belt securely. "Aye, my lord, at once. I shall check the usual places." To this James smirked one of his sly and knowing smiles. The man bowed once more before making his exit. As the door latched quietly, Coatleque was chewing her bottom lip. Jameson addressed her directly once more with measured disgust. "I am beyond weary of this ghost of a woman who is apparently so charming she cannot even bring my paramour to secure her." She stopped chewing her lip and looked to the floor once more in silence. "As to your question," he continued with a clipped tone. "I of course require children. But not before marriage. And I will require a wife who is loyal to me as much as she is to herself. And those sorts of matches are truly rare, it seems to me." There was a long pause between them as she mulled over his words. Her failure. His... promise. "I... I c-can do better." she stammered. "As can I." he replied softly with a sigh. "Being wary in all corners of my life is taxing, Coatleque." "As enticing as that sounds, though... it was also not what I... what I mean." "Ah. What did you mean." She held her tongue for a moment, considering if she even wanted to ask the question, so horrible as it was. "Would you put them to the sword?" He blinked, clearly not understanding her meaning. "Why would I put -- Oh... not mychildren. Any children?" The new understanding was clearly disturbing even to him, and it caused her to relax somewhat as she nodded. "To what end?" he asked. "Not to an end... simply to end. Them. Or perhaps for revenge? Does it matter?" "You have been reading too many tragedies." he retorted. Coatleque's expression turned to one of imploring hope as if she were trying to coax the answer from his lips that she so desperately wanted to hear. "I... I just needed to know. That there is still a line that would not be crossed." "Coatleque. The only reason to kill children would be so they do not grow up to be a threat. And we're talking a twenty year span here, like as not. There is no reason to be that... far-thinking. It verges on paranoia, and is barbaric on top of that. Has the journalist equated me with Lazarov to that degree?" She exhaled in sharp relief finally. "No, she has not." "Then who filled your mind with such nonsense?" "Rumors that I have confirmed from multiple sources now, that Lazarov has exterminated an entire house. Not his hand directly, but he signed their death sentences, down to the last child and manservant." Jameson nodded. "It is not rumor." he said quietly. "It is fact. And it is one of the reasons he must be removed. He is ruthless beyond measure or even common reason." He finally finished his own glass of the wine and passed it to her. She set it on the bar next to her own. "If there are men coming for you..." she turned back to him from the bar. "I beg you, be careful. For me." "I rarely go anywhere without accompaniment these days. Fret not." He sighed. "Though that is its own burden." He shook his head as if suddenly remembering an appointment or some such. "There will be no holidays for either of us, likely. Not in the near future. Do you have an associate you trust? Truly trust? I will need them to take a sensitive message to Coerthas. I may need my dog off his leash sooner than I planned. And he should have been removed from the city as of five hours ago." "... Anden?" she breathed pensively. "I... no, I have no one I would trust for that. Nobody else in the Order would understand as I do." "Very well." He sighed. "I will... find someone else suitable for the task." "If it was anyone else it would be a different matter. As I said, he is not well liked." Jameson laughed a short, humorless laugh. "No, he is not. For good reason. Despite his breeding, Anduron is a brute. The sands of the arena run through his veins. He needs blood on his hands or he is not happy." "I would say he has had enough already." "Not enough by far." He scowled. "Tragically. We needs move up our timetable." "I could find mercenaries, though I would not say I trust them." "No." He replied curtly. "I'll find another to contact Anduron." "Of course." She fell silent once more to his side. "Leave me for the nonce, Coatleque. I have... wars to wage, and blood to spill from my pen." She regarded him for another moment. He did appear more tired now than she had ever seen him, and for that she felt a twinge of sorrow. Passing behind his chair she brushed a hand across his shoulders. "Until later, my Lord..." With that she let herself out of the office as quietly as she arrived.

You even got her from the good side. Looks nice!

Chocobo Cho Cobobo Because this.

As far as debating, I would not include the Flames/Torches/Sworn/Blades as a social class. They are/can be made up of people from many different mindsets and backgrounds. The entire gist of the Paladin job quest, after all, is that there are monetarist Sultansworn out there trying to destroy the order from within. The 2.5 Hildibrand quest shows us that a commoner from the Golden Bazaar can even join their ranks. That would be quite the class elevation. I would not include Refugees either as they are not citizens of Ul'dah, but that is my personal view. For Coatleque, she tries to appear upper-class Royalist. She is even romantically involved with a monetarist nobleman right now (long story). At the end of the day she's just an Ala'Mhigan pretender.

Nothing. There was no evidence. No new leads. No information. For all her planning she was no closer to finding Lazarov than before. The sting on the merchant house in the Goblet lead to nothing more than angry words and bitter accusations. After losses had been cut it was Miss Callae who insisted Coatleque herself report the results to Jameson. Had Gharen not been present she might have lost her composure right then and there. On top of this, she had received word that one of Jameson's latest trades had gone awry when bandits attacked the shipment between Highbridge and Drybone. Mister North had been injured in the attack. She was not privy to the specific events that had unfolded, and while she knew Jameson held no personal love for the man it would not do for his favorite valet to be maimed. The woman's fears only grew until she at last came to the inn where Mister North was being tended to. After inquiring on him of the attendant on duty she was given the room number and let into the back hallway. Cautiously she approached the opened door and wrapped lightly on the frame. The man looked up as calm and composed as ever, despite being in what appeared to be a patient's gown and wearing some kind of supportive brace under it. "May I assist?" She barely stepped through the threshold before looking him over at a distance. "You? Assist? Even in this state?" She would not yet approach, however. "Ah. Miss Crofte. Pray forgive my somewhat... unproductive circumstances. I would bow if the situation permitted." She blinked incredulously. "You will do no such thing! Not until you are feeling well, anyway. It is bad enough Master Taeros's favorite valet had to meet such a state. I'll not have him exacerbating it." He inclined his head nevertheless as she crossed the room just then to stand at the foot of his bed, suddenly emboldened by her purpose. "Rest assured, Miss, I am doing my utmost to tend to my own inconveniences. The local medics, for whatever reason, seemed loath to allow me to use my OWN restorative arts." He paused. "Well. I should not linger on the negative. Miss's concern is appreciated." Coatleque's eyes looked up towards the ceiling with no movement of her head. "Of course not. You know there is no shame in allowing someone else to serve you now and again. That is why they are here, after all." "Nonsense. Surely if I have spent this long studying the art of servitude, I should prove wholly capable of applying the same principles to myself--ah, pardon." She shook her head slowly as her eyes turned downward again. "You confound me at times, but I understand you - I think. We all serve in our own ways I suppose." To this he gave a wry smile. "I am pleased to clarify, Miss. However, my earlier question still stands. Is there any capacity in which I may assist?" She blinked a few times before quirking a brow. "I believe you do enough as is, Mister North." "Yet Miss is here requiring something?" he replied with a tilt of his head. "Requ... no. I heard what happened when the shipment arrived. I felt it necessary to see to you personally. For both our sakes." "Ah, so Miss is here requiring reassurance." he said with a knowing nod. The man was very astute. His grasp of the situation gave her some comfort however. She could not deny the feeling of being alone on this path and it was good to see someone else making the attempt at keeping some semblance of order. "James.. Master Taeros will return soon. I believe we both have ill tidings for him. Doubly so for me if something happened to you." "I hardly expect milord would be altogether aggrieved, unless such an attack marks a deliberate movement by one of his adversaries. Happily, my assailant appeared far too disorganized, and indeed too incompetent, for this to be the case." He paused then with furrowed brows as he recounted the events prior. Her expression did perk up slightly once she realized the attack was not as serious as the initial reports sounded. "Are you positive? You did not recognize this attacker?" "Not in the slightest, Miss. A bare-chested hooligan with no apparent insignias, with movements bespeaking ruthlessness and muscle rather than discipline and intent... who nevertheless managed to wrest me from Chesterfield's back. Most appalling." Her thoughts turned back to a dire warning she received some days before, along with a feeling of helplessness at the situation. "Honestly, I am surprised you had no escort for this trip." "Strictly speaking, Miss, I WAS the escort. I am not altogether untrained in self-defense." He paused again, appraising her tone as if unsure she was slighting him. "Apologies, I meant no offense... I simply meant... well... I've no idea what was being delivered." "None taken. Miss may rest assured, however... milord's commodities remained untargeted and unharmed, and I myself should be fully recovered within a scant few days. Minimal damage done, all in all. I should hope the entire incident should not cause undue stress on any account." "No... no, of course not. James trusts you, and so I do as well. As often as I stay the night, that should be apparent." She did not lie in this. Her presence was becoming a more regular sight around the estate, though she mostly kept to herself or close to Jameson. She found herself watching the servants carefully more and more since Roen's warning. She folded her hands in front of her, wringing one within the other nervously before switching to the other. Gideon inclined his head with a satisfied smile. "I presumed, Miss, that that was for an entirely different set of reasons." "Hmm Oh, you jest, aye?" she stated halfheartedly. There was no sign of mirth in her voice. "Of course, Miss. Forgive an invalid his whimsy." "Apologies, I have been on edge lately after receiving word from someone. This attack was not entirely unexpected." It seemed to her that someone else ought to know what was happening. Someone should be prepared in case she was not there. Who better than the man second closest to him? Gideon raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Indeed, Miss?" "I was told by Miss Deneith that ... people would be coming for James. That I should not be in their way. I fear this is only the start, or rather a continued assault." "...Hrm. Is Miss in any danger?" Her expression straightened and she looked at him almost incredulously, as if the question was insulting. "Might I remind you of the Order I serve? I can certainly handle a blade. Her Grace trusts me with such. No.. I do not fear for myself." "Indeed, Miss... but as Starlight proved, the finest may yet be hampered by... unfortunate circumstances. Let me rephrase: is Miss to be targeted?" "No. No, Roen would not target me. Despite all of this we are still friends. She is just... misguided. Yes, that is all." Her words fell forth as if she was trying to convince herself of their truth. She had already told Roen she had no desire to draw steel against her. But after her conversation in the Drowned Wench with Master Bellveil she was beginning to doubt it could be prevented. If Roen truly believed in what she was doing... that these rumored actions could be justified... "Is she the person in question? Who you believe would be instigating these attacks...?" he continued. "Possibly. I mean... no. Perhaps I have said too much already. She warned me they would be coming, that is all I know." He hummed in thought. "She is obsessed with destroying the man. I cannot allow that. Not any longer. Please, be careful." "I see. I shall keep a book close to bed. Miss's concern is most kind." "Of course. If you have need of anything, Mister North, send word. It seems I must run things while you are away here." The position was not one she had ever pictured herself in. As the apparent 'Lady of the house' she felt a certain responsibility to see things were kept running smoothly while Jameson was away. In truth it was Mister North who handled things, but with him kept here in bed the rest of the help had seen fit to slack off to an extent. "My heavens. I did not mean to impose so large a burden." Coatleque managed to crack a smile. "Even you deserve a rest now and again. I will try not to handle everything for you though." He closed his eyes in thought for a moment before perking back up somewhat. "Ah, I know. Does Miss have any particularly favored foods, or treats? I will prepare something as recompense upon my return." The question was certainly unexpected. She gazed at him in thought as she tried earnestly to remember every meal she had eaten in her nights spent at the Estate. There were too many to recall just one in particular. Then an idea struck her as she thought back to that evening at the Bismark. "There was a lovely bit of lamb that I remember from the Bismark. It was served with some rather strong wine. Perhaps you remember that night? I have faith that you can replicate the recipe." He blinked. His only sign of remembrance while his smile remained fixed in place. "...Of course, Miss. I recall it well." "Perhaps better than I. Hmm.. no matter." "Then, yes. I will be more than happy to do so." "Then I shall consider us even, Mister North. Do rest up. The rest of the help is lost without you - I am a poor substitute." A sharp and sudden exhale marked a contained laugh from his position on the bed. "As you say, Miss. Do not allow me to occupy more of your schedule than I am due. I will contact you if I have any further information." "Ah, you do smile! Fear not, I shall not make it known. Until then, Mister North. Twelve watch over you." The man looked down at her call-out, almost self-consciously before nodding with eyes averted. "You as well, Miss."

Coatleque would certainly pass as Irish or Scottish with her pale skin, red hair, and green eyes. She speaks as a proper English lady, however.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fenrir Fenrir is from Norse mythology Coatleque is a derivative of Quetzalcoatl, an Aztec god. I saw someone use a similar name on a MUD back in 2001, and have used it as my go-to female character name ever since.

Coatleque would not lower herself to the standards of living a day with me. She would take one look around, then go spend whatever gil she had on a Hilton.

So he's his own wost enemy? ZING! Coatleque will quickly back away from conversations of an intimate nature. She is easily flustered when men, in particular, treat her with respect. And I don't mean simply flirting.

(( Beware the wall of text below. And curse me for my thoroughness and unwillingness to summarize good dialogue! )) The sun had long since set and the party at the Bismark was beginning to die down as people slowly trickled off to their homes or other business ventures. Coatleque had said her own goodbyes a few moments before. Earlier than her still was seen Verad Belleveil doing the same. They had spoken only briefly - in such social interactions, she was more wont to do the listening - but this was not the place to discuss business matters. Drinks were agreed upon before she would have to flee the city to return to Thanalan. Even now, moons since the incident at Moraby, she was not entirely welcome in La Noscea. Entering the Drowned Wench, she spotted her quarry sitting alone at a table across the way. She made her way towards him but not before scanning the tavern for any Jackets in uniform. At this point being perfectly paranoid of potential premium placed upon her head, she could take no chances. Taking the empty chair across from him at the table, she smoothed her dress and folded her hands in front. He had seemed to contend himself, in the mean time, with a rather foul-looking mug of grog and was quietly muttering to himself. "It's almost no fun to drink here, you know. They have no 'worst drink'." "Master Bellveil. You could opt for something less than wost once in a while." She interrupted his thought. "Ser Crofte! But I do! After I've had the worst. The best is much better that way." "That... does make sense." She replied as she found herself seriously considering his method. "I do make it from time to time. I take it this has naught to do with the coupon?" He spoke of a certain coupon she still carried which was issued and endorsed by Dubious Distributions for a full one quarter off of the price of a good or service. Earlier that evening it was made known that the palace carpets had incurred a few new stains due to the mishandling of a leve. Dubious Distributions had taken up responsibility to clean said stains and Coatleque intended to use her coupon on behalf of the city-state. "You are correct, however. I am not here about your cleaning bill. I have heard you make sense before. Such as your rather heated views on Ul'dahn politics." She spoke, of course, about a certain poker game they were both present for at the Mandercrown Manse. Things did not end quite as expected that night. Both left the estate knowing far more about each other than they had any right to. Once the assembled had their tongues losened with wine, however, Mister Bellveil could not help but state to all exactly what he thought of their current involvements with each other. "You've certainly heard enough on that point, I'm sure." "Nearly every day for the past cycle at least.", she replied curtly. "Huh! Well, I haven't spoken to you on the matter, so I am puzzled as to how you've heard that." She tilted her head slightly before realizing her own ambiguousness. "Oh, I meant politics in general that I hear about. You, on the other hand, were rather loud at Mandercrown's Manse." "A matter I continue to not regret, for a variety of different reasons. And a stance I still hold." "Such is your prerogative. I thought perhaps I would give you the opportunity to question me privately over the matter. Perhaps I can offer you a chance to affect the situation more directly." There was a pause as the Duskwight gazed at her over his mug of bitter sadness. "Mayhaps I will take that, if only to satisfy my own curiosity on the matter. What, pray, are you allowing me to ask?" Her expression turned slightly amused at his priety over the matter. "You may ask whatever you wish. I may chose whether to answer of course." Coatleque was not prone to monologuing her entire dealings within the Sultansworn, and especially not with her external contacts. There was a fine rope she tread between either side and keeping her balance was tantamount to ensuring proper justice. Lately this balance was shifting further from her to a darker end she was not comfortable with. Tonight she aimed to rectify this however possible. Verad watched her as he considered the sanction he was just given. "Hrm. Quite a lot to answer, there." "Indeed. Though at this point you seem to have a more firm grasp of the situation than even I." "How so? I can't say I've been involved in it since that evening at the manse." "Nor have I, in truth. My investigation has been stalled while I was distr... busy with distracting someone else." She had hoped her verbal slip would be unnoticed. In truth she was distracted. Her goal of keeping Jameson busy for Roen had meant she herself was also kept busy from Lazarov. While she was wasting time here, his plans would still be in motion. She was running out of time. Verad scratched the side of his beard while considering the matter now. "What was Taeros planning to do with that first shipment, anyhow? The one that started all this and has not been seen." She sighed. It always came back to that one night, and she had grown tired of re-hashing those events. "I wish the man never even bothered with that nonsense. We were investigating the deaths of a fellow Sultansworn, and the poisoning of Roen in the palace gaols. Per his words, he was attempting to trace where large quantities of Somnus may have been originating from outside of Thanalan. Lazarov just happened to be the smuggler who made the shipment." "Somnus? That's not what I'd heard were the shipment's contents." "T'was the bulk of the shipment. What, pray tell, did you hear was the rest?" "Steel and ceruleum. The same things Nero has been seeking for some time." "Ah, not this shipment." She replied as she readjusted her seating. "Mayhaps. The one that Roen was supposed to 'intercept' from Nero's tip-off." "Exotic goods, contraband, Ishgardian imports, and Limsan made firearms." "The less I hear of Ishgardian imports the better.", he quipped almost knowingly. "And the shipment, the firearms especially, vanished. Nobody could account for them. Where did they go?" "Quite so. All of it was turned over to the Blades by Natalie. Most of it remains in their hands, except for the arms which I am told have disappeared. I had no idea until just after Starlight when there was a firefight in Pearl Lane. One gang trying to muscle out a rival. They used Limsan made small-arms." "Interesting. The very same?" "That I cannot say. The originals were never inspected closely enough for comparison. But what else could they be?" "That gets to my next question - what exactly is Nero's plan? Or was? As far as you know." What indeed was Nero Lazarov planning. The question that Crofte herself had been pondering for weeks now. She heard many theories, but had little evidence for any particular one. All she knew was that he was a very determined Pirate, and the monetarists were feeling the effects now. If trade began to dip further, the wrong people may decide to take action. "Your guess is as good as mine. If you believe Miss Llorn, he is building some sort of Garlean doomsday device." "I'm not sure what else he could be doing with that much ceruleum and steel." "From what I recently heard from Roen, whatever they are planning it involves Ul'dah and a radical change of a 'corrupt system'." It was true she had recently spoken with Roen herself. The meeting was not mutual, they were practically thrust upon each other by a third party. A party who was now holding yet another smear article over their heads as a threat unless one of them finally acted to shift the balance. Verad continued on. "I was there to see him make that deal. Large quantities, regular shipments. I doubt he intended to build low-income heated housing." She shrugged at Verad with a slight smirk. "One can hope? Compared to the Goblet, that would certainly be a radical change..." "If I were able to buy out the shipments, mayhaps that'd be true." His suggestion gave her pause. "I can't imagine what that would cost." "Between the inheritance and dividends from Vesper Bay, it's more feasible than I originally believed." "I am glad to hear you are doing so well at least." "It undermines my selling position," he snorted with some measure of disgust "but I manage. Most people assume I'll be free of the worries of gil ere long. Mayhaps they're right." "That is not such a bad problem to have, is it?" Verad took a drink, swills it around with a pained look - probably from the drink itself - and set the mug back down again. "I have to engage in the levemeets because many people assume I am running a scam on the Goblet. Strict compliance is my only defense. I am not taken seriously by the wealthy, and I lose my credibility with the poor." The sudden conversational shift to the merits of fiscal responsibility had her eyes glaze over. She rolled them to the side with a tilt of her head. "This is why I leave finances to others." "It's a digression at any rate. The next question is simpler - why would I want to be more involved?" She found his directness refreshing. "Simple. You sounded quite angry at the apparent lack of action by either side. I am preparing to move against the pirate soon, but I need help." "I am. But, the more I thought of it, the more of a comfort it appeared to be. Inaction, after all, means ineffectiveness. I would be comfortable with a stalemate of move and counter-move once I extracted myself from it - and given my last conversation with Miss Deneith, I've done that quite ably." "Roen..." Coatleque's voice lowered with her eyes as she studied the wood grains in the table. "I fear she is losing herself to this man." Verad rested his hand on the hilt of one of the daggers at his sides. Not in a threatening gesture - his grip being too light and in the wrong place to draw. "Let her be lost, then." Her eyes widened at that as her attention snapped back to him. "You do not mean that..." "What else is there to do at this juncture? I've spoken with her. I've heard the words from her own lips. She is as much a part of this plan as he is. Do you ever think of how little we think of her, to think she could only come to this conclusion because of some man?" "I... no. What I do think is that he is not telling her his true intentions." Her words were a half truth. Verad was right, and she knew it. For all the time she had known Roen, she was always treated as a child by those around her. As a teenager about to be thrust into the world, and all the parentals around her were doing their best to shelter her from it. Had it ever crossed her mind that the woman truly was convinced and accessory to Nero's plans? This was not the place for such musings, however. She continued. "Have you heard what he is capable of? About the noble house he had extinguished?" "I had not." He replied with a shake of his head. Coatleque cleared her throat and lowered her voice once more for fear of being overheard in this place. "The man ordered the execution of an entire Ul'dahn noble house. Men, women, and children." Verad widened his own eyes now, but only for a moment. His jaw set. "Does she know this?" "She does now. He did not tell her when it was done." Coatleque swallowed hard then as the relization of what she had just revealed set into her mind once more. Yet there was that other piece of truth which continued to claw at her mind every time she repeated the words. You have no proof. She never did. All of her leads were based off rumor and happenstance. In the end, she had no hard evidence that the man was anything more than 'just a pirate'. "And yet, given her absence here, I can assume that she is still in his presence.", Verad continued. "It is as you say." "Let her be lost, then." "She swore to me she would have stopped him if she knew of the plan." Coatleque protested suddenly. "She swears she would still do so. This tells me he is not being honest with her. She asks me to believe he will not do such again, but..." Verad took another drink, finishing the foul liquid and setting the empty mug aside. "You know, she came to me about whether or not to reveal information to someone, knowing that doing so might hurt Nero." "Oh?" "No minor gossip, either - Nero had done the man a great wrong. But she was conflicted all the same. And the more I listened to her dilemma, the more it sounded as if she weren't certain because it would put Nero and the man's plan at risk. In the end, she had decided to withold information from the man. I wonder what she's withholding from you?" "I would say I was surprised if not for what I now know. Did she reveal this information?" "Only after I undermined her and told him she knew. We argued, of course - this was just before the card game, in fact - and she insisted that he would have found 'closure through other means,' I believe were her words. Means that I assume meant no harm to Nero." "Indeed." Verad inhaled slowly. "So, no, I do not trust her. I think she's in love, and it's very easy to convince a person like that to do anything. It's why I don't indulge in the emotion myself." The two sat in silence for a time as she mulled over his words. How distracted had she been exactly? How long had she now pulled herself away from larger issues that she could not see any of this happening right before her? She found herself staring at the table once more. Her mouth twitched when Verad broke the silence. "But I think it's also possible that she's decided for herself, lies or no, that Nero's path is the right path." "I know not which of us is the greater fool then. Though I did encourage her to pursue his affections." "With or without knowing the extent of the matter?" She blinked and looked up sharply. "Without, of course. T'was moons ago before any of this came to light. Just after that shipment was taken." "Then I can hardly fault you for the matter." "Despite all of this, Master Bellveil, she is my friend. Yet now she is forcing me to draw a blade against her to protect the city she once served. As well as the man she seeks to destroy." "Ah, right, that - there's another question. Now, when I was lying in the street, half my ribs broken, my face a pulp, and what I'm fairly sure was at the time a shattered family jewel, and you appeared to mend my wounds before others could pull me away from the Blades - were you already at Taeros' arm? As I saw you at Starlight?" She found her stomach twisting in knots suddenly. Of all the lines of questioning this one she was least prepared for. Yet it should not have been compeltely unexpected. She certainly had made no amount of effort to hide their relationship in recent weeks. Her expression became slightly serious again as her training took over and set her nerves to 'business' mode once more. "I... no, I was not." "And you know it was under his orders that I found myself in that state, do you not?" "Half true, if at all. Natalie Mcbeef gave the order." "Why, pray, would she do that?" "Why did Natalie do anything? Misguided senses? Fell on her head once too many? In this case, she was working with Jameson rather closely. I still do not know what she knew about him." Verad shook his head, obviously unconvinced. "On her own initiative, of course. He keeps his hands clean. He was hardly at risk when I found the milkweed milk in one of his warehouses, the relics in another. There was always someone else who would suffer for those discoveries." "Considerable setbacks as they were to him." "So, knowing this, knowing that because they were his setbacks - and these were no small things, no safe and legal goods that were lost to him - I found myself in that state on the street. And you know this. And still you are at his arm." There was another pause as she realized the implications he was levying at her. "It... is complicated. More-so than you may like to believe." "Convince me. Because Roen has done a very poor job indeed of the same." Coatleque looked back down to the table, her hands were knit together in a tight ball. "Roen is my friend, as I said. You are aware of her history with Taeros? And her brother?" "I only met her brother recently. Beforehand she had not told me he existed. But yes, I am aware of the history with Taeros." "After she was released from the gaols and cleared, I had aimed to help her further investigate Taeros. Our intention was to gain leverage to finally bring him low." "Of that I am aware. Indeed, I played my part." She continued. "After the incident with the Blades, after Natalie... died... the balance shifted. I had to do something to keep him distracted. I had nothing else to throw at him but... but myself." He looked at her flatly. "I would not blame you for thinking the worst of me." She had expected beration, consternation, and further accusations about Oaths and Morals. Instead Verad just raised his eyebrows at the confession. "Of course, such tactics are far from uncommon. You've read my memoirs, and I engaged in them myself in at least two chapters. Similarly, part of the problem with such tactics, as happened in one chapter, was that I found myself so thoroughly charmed by the hidden depths of the succubus that I was loathe to banish her. Do you find yourself charmed by hidden depths?" "... yes, of course. Of course you did. There is nothing I can say to make it sound any less tawdry. Only that I have done far worse in my past." He shook his head. "That's not my question. I'm not judging you for the act, Ser Crofte. What I am asking is if it is no longer an act." "Whether it is or not at this point, does it matter anymore? Roen has lost sight of her original goal. I cannot continue to distract him and make Ul'dah weaker while Nero is planning Twelve-knows-what against the city." "It matters because on the one hand I am assumed to be loyal to someone who is acting against the city I hold dear on the one hand, and am being asked for assistance by the agent of someone who had me beaten half to death on the other. Who knows he had it done." "If I had known what Natalie was going to do..." She began to defend herself then stopped and slowly shook her head. "Nothing I can say will excuse it. I will not even try." "Then that Anden fellow from the trial would have done it. I do not fault your actions at the time, Ser Crofte. I believe you when you say you didn't know. What galls me is knowing it now and still coming to me for aid." "I understand it is ... much to ask. I would leave if you wish me to, with nothing further, but know that your assistance helps me more than him still. He is starting to trust me..." As she said this her hand reached up to her neckline and pulled forth the silver key on a chain around her neck. "I have access to his personal office." "And?" "And... Even if I wanted to leave, I may not reach the door alive." "He trusts you, and therefore you know too much." "Whether deception or not, I am no longer free to decide." "Therefore you need some other person to make use of that key around your neck." "I... perhaps. Even still he will know where it came from. I can find his secrets myself in time, I am sure of it." "Then I have to confess my confusion. What involvement do you seek, if not that?" Back to the task at hand. Her expression turned serious once more and her voice steady. "As I said, there is a greater threat that needs to be dealt with first. What good is destroying Taeros if Nero then destroys us the next day?" "If you like I can throw a dragon at him. Mayhaps convince him to make use one of these relics that have been lurking about." "... if you can summon such things to your will then perhaps there are two threats now..." She spoke with some measure of sarcasm which elicited an inquisitive, almost dumbfounded stare from the Duskwight. "You have no idea what's been going on around the desert, do you?" She tilted her head just then. "I have been rather distracted lately, if you were paying attention... Something I plan to remedy while James is away on business again." "No, I understand, it's fine. Suffice it to say no, I cannot summon such things to my will, and even if I did I would use them to trail advertisements in the Thanalan sky. But please, go on. This greater threat. What would you have me do?" "Oh, right. The night of Natalie's death she had secured a note with an address in the Goblet. It was to be a meeting place between Sebastian Redgrave and some unknown contact. I now know that Redgrave is just an alias for Nero. Whoever he was meeting may have information on where to find him, or stop his shipments at the least." "Do you want his shipments stopped?" "If it helps, then of course. Otherwise, my goal is to bring the man in to face justice. But the address is in the Goblet, and my face is well known in Thanalan." "If you want them stopped, give me Taeros' funds, and they will be stopped. She quirked an eyebrow while sitting in stunned silence at the request. "This is no jest! I can stop them, but I require the funds. Do so, and Nero will never lay hands on another without resorting to outright piracy." The very idea of trying to reallocate Jameson's funds brought a rather unpleasant memory to light. She instinctively rubbed her throat slowly. "It is not Nero's hands I am worried about in that case." "Propose it to him openly, then. Is he the type to require a business plan?" "It may help. I could propose the idea to him. What I cannot do is re-appropriate them myself." "As for the warehouse, I am gathering you want another body there for the investigation?" "Aye, that is what I am looking for." "In that case, I have to decline." "It need not be you." She interjected at his refusal "I will not send another in my place." "I see... and understand." They sat in silence once again for a good while as both had much to think on. Again it was he who spoke up. "This is the last I'll speak on the matter. If Taeros accepts the idea of simply buying out Nero's shipments, by all means, let me know. But I have other concerns, and Roen clearly does not desire my assistance - or anyone's, I should think." "... she was your friend once as well... Verad. If we simply abandon her altogether will it not only push her further away?" Coatleque's expression was almost imploringly. For that instance all she could think of was losing her friend to whatever path of madness Nero was leading her down. "It is not a matter of what she wants, but what she needs..." "Hardly. I think acting in a manner counter to what she wants before she's reached the same conclusion we have will do that. How she will -rage-! Imagine those eyes turned on yours as she insists that she could have -saved- him, if we'd only given him more time. But you misunderstand. She was never a friend. Not that way. I can count on one hand the number of times we met and I was not there to console her from a crisis of faith." His confession shocked her into silence once more. Slowly she sat back before continuing. "Perhaps we differ in our ideals of friendship then. No matter... your mind is set, as is mine." Verad leaned back and closed his eyes in thought. "No, never a friend. She was an ideal. I saw her at her lowest point, moons ago, and never have I seen someone who so embodied my principles in that moment. What could I do but help her? But more fool me for treating people as principles, I suppose." "So what am I to you then, Master Bellveil? I should like to know where I stand in case our lives depend on one another again." Her voice was low but serious. The conversation had taken an unexpectedly dismal turn. Verad only tipped his head to the side and rested his chin upon his hand as he gave her a scrutinizing look. She held his gaze but the expression she returned was forlorn. She did not want to lose yet another friend over a difference of ideals. "A stoic Sworn with poor luck when it comes to the unfair sex and a desire to defend the city - even its worst. My savior - and I know a genuine one, and for that I hold you in great respect." He looked up to the ceiling before continuing. "And there's something to be said for someone who can put up with me in the altogether. No, I think I'd call you friend more than I'd call Roen that. I feel a need to help you because you are you, and not because you embody something else to me." Her expression turned most serious for a moment after that as she took in his words. "Thank you, Verad. And I would defend such again if I had to. So we are clear - my duty is not influenced by my personal life. I will not allow Jameson Taeros to cause me to harm others for his little games." "I have faith that will prove true when it's put to the test. And if you find yourself on the end of his wrath, I have a house full of heavily armed Keepers, as you've seen. Safe harbor is an option." Managing something of a smile at that notion, she rose from the table to be on her way for the night. "I pray every night it does not come to that. I will continue to influence him as much as I can in the mean time. If you have no further questions, I should return to the city before I am missed." "Likewise I believe I have an appointment that I may have kept waiting. Oschon guide you on your path, Ser Crofte." "And on yours as well, Master Bellveil. I pray we meet again soon, and in better light." She gave the man a slight bow before turning and making her way to the airship. Her heart was heavier than she would have liked to admit though. With no further help, it seemed she would need to turn to another organization for her plans.

I was thinking Big Brother as in a fascist police state.

What it ultimately comes down to, as Warren said, is bad coding. If their programmers truly understood the concept of object oriented programming, this wouldn't be an issue. Here is a very brief example of how the game should be written: Item1 is an object. A piece of gear that goes on a character's chest. Item1 has the following properties that ALL items of type "gear" have: - model used - stats used - gear slot - level requirement - etc Everyone who has this item in their inventory has an instance of this object saved to their user account on the server. When you glamor an another object over top of this item, all that needs to be changed is the 'model used' property of the instance saved in your account. When a client fetches this data from the server, it loads the appropriate model and displays it on everyone's screens. It's that simple. And changing how much damage a healing spell heals for should in no way affect this code because it's all contained in said object. That is how you can tell bad programming from good programming.

Crofte cannot lead. The irony being that everyone expects her to. She has no backbone, rarely gets emotional in public, and has trouble raising her voice to anyone else. She's stood in the middle of the street while an initiate lambasted her up and down and just shrugged it off. People ask her for help but then always fight her on how she chooses to respond. It's always them convincing her to bend, never her persuading them. One of her attempts to inspire the troops amounted to one of the longest unintentional innuendos of Ul'dah history. In short, anyone who expects her to take charge and make crucial decisions is going to have a bad time.

Coatleque sat on the edge of the bed quietly reflecting on the events of the past week. Taking up her quill she casually noted the following in her diary. [✔] Foreigner requests aid, then complains about chosen methods. [✔] Monetarist noble requests aid, then complains about chosen methods. [✔] Immortal Flames request aid, then complains about chosen methods. [✔] Most promising recruit leaves Order She casually dropped the book on the nightstand with the quill laying within the binding and rolled over to meet what sleep would come. "Another typical week for the Sultansworn."

Chances are Ishgard will become the new PVE hub before it becomes an RP hub. I foresee specific plots -maybe- shifting to the new city. Until trolling becomes unbearable. On the other hand, Ul'dah and Revanant's Toll will probably empty out to allow greater RP presence.

Well... Crofte does need a convincing evil villainess outfit to sit on the corner of Taeros's desk and look condescendingly at his business associates.

Coatleque's secret desire is to retire as a house wife and raise a family. She doesn't care how many, or what gender. She only wants to be like her mother.

If they are in a closed relationship with someone already, then yes. Also, the term 'adultery' means engaging in sexual acts with anyone not your spouse. So sex out of wedlock also constitutes adultery.

I second this concept based on the quest dialogue. In fact, Coatleque disagrees with Jenlyns on this point whenever it is brought up in other RP. She sees Free Paladins as a dilution of their core, but is forced to accept them being the good drone that she is. Very good points that were brought up though, all-in-all.

No fair! It was still a dragon at the time and she didn't know the thing would change back!

While there are many things she has done to herself that Coatleque would consider unforgivable sins, there is nothing she has ever done to another person that would keep her awake at night.

I will sign up for the Proactive section. Pt1 only if someone *coughs* asks ICly. Pt2, depending on what's going on. The Sworn are actively looking to remove this threat from the city.

Feuds? It's Valentione's day weekend. I suspect some ships will be fueled by this. All the ships.

So Aya is just Fran Drescher in UHF with her own lalafell camerman.