Coatleque

I was just thinking this same thing this morning. As soon as the server is open, just create all the alts you can. Do not even bother with names or appearance. Fill your slots, then go back and buy fantasia and name changes as you decide to use them. Yes, it's a bad situation, but you make the best of what you can.

To be quite clear, I was not complaining about anything. I was merely inquiring if anyone could confirm drop rates increased.

That's great, I'm happy for you. I don't PVE. I log on to RP. If I wanted to invest the time, sure I'd be up to speed. I'm only interested in the shiny gold Excalibur. And I've already resigned myself to the fact I'll never have it. My care level is low to moderate. I was only interested in if I'd have something feasible to do while waiting for others to log on to RP with. If I can get even 1 Alexandrite for every 3 FATEs now, then it's worth it. {edit} Since the phase was introduced, I have never gotten an Alex from a FATE. I even ground another ATMA for the glamour.

Alexandrite drop rate for completing FATEs has been increased. I have not once received an Alexandrite for a FATE. Can someone in-game confirm this? Has it risen to the drop rates of ATMAs now? Can I stop grinding maps now? Or am I getting my hopes up of ever progressing my relic?

Jameson's office was quiet still as it had been these past few days while he was away. Everything had been kept the way it was as he left it. Mister North had seen to that. Doubly so today when his Master was expected to return. Coatleque had guessed the man was quite used to seeing her around the estate by now. Or if not, he at least made no show of concern at her coming and goings. She had let herself into the office as the man himself was leaving. They exchanged little more than polite greetings. His diligence was something Coatleque was careful to only notice now when Jameson was not present. He may prefer to lord his station over those beneath him, but she was still not used to being waited on hand and foot. Being a servant of the Sultansworn herself, she knew the meaning of servitude and did her best not to get in Gideon's way. She would even go so far as to clean up after herself if she was able to get to it before he did. He was often too quick for her though. He had tended the fire before leaving and so she was greeted to the warm glow and light smell of smoked wood from the hearth in the corner. She crossed the room and disappeared behind the wall to change in the back half. Once finished she sat at the small desk by the bed to use the mirror. Pulling her hair back she noticed the glint of the silver key on a chain around her neck. It gave her pause as she considered it for the moment. Jameson had given her this key to his room out of trust. She had won him over to the extent that he would allow her to freely access his personal room, office, effects. This was the very thing she had wanted from the start. What she had told herself those few moons ago during dinner at the Bismark. Get as close as you can, find what you need, and get out. Yet something had caused her to hesitate. Words they had spoken at dinner one evening came back to her now. "If you've a confession that would force me to detain you as a threat... then no, I do not want to know." "Then I know where the line must be drawn." "And that is one line I shall never cross." "Do not fear, my dear. I would not put you in such a position,... ... in all else, I shall be truthful as I can." There was something. Some dark secret that she knew would ruin him. Something that would force her hand. She should have used the key ten times over by now. She should have ransacked his office the first night and merely played him for a fool. Yet something made her hesitate. She examined herself in the mirror, eyes trailing up to her neckline. Was she afraid of him? The bruise around her throat where he had nearly strangled her in anger had long since faded. Her hand slowly rose and gripped the same place he had before she turned away from the mirror. No. Despite his anger, she did not fear him in that way. She was no simpering farm girl either - the choice not to fight him was hers alone. Looking across the room she noticed the suit of armor on its stand. Examining the wear marks on it she knew it was not just for show. The man's strength belied his true station. This, she told herself, is what she was so enamored with. This hidden side to the arrogant noble that everyone was used to seeing. Behind all of his pretense there was a strong, proud man struggling to survive under a weight he was too stubborn to ask help to lift. "Does not Jameson Taeros also deserve a chance at redemption?" Words she had spoken to Roen some days ago. Despite all Roen's ire for the man, even she could not disagree. Coatleque could find the evidence she needed at any time now, but locking the man away was a temporary solution. No, she wanted to help him if she could. She would uncover his secrets, but without reverting to stealing them. It would not do for her to look like an enemy now. Especially knowing at how quickly his temper could turn again. She finished tying up her hair and put her things away into a drawer that she had managed to claim. Jameson's business was done mostly in the front-half of the office, so the rear desk was typically unused and empty. She went back to the front then and to the liquor cabinet in the opposite corner to the hearth. Procuring two glasses she also retrieved the brandy she knew he most often enjoyed at work. Whether it was his favorite or just one cheap enough that he was content to use it most often she could not say. Arranging the bottle and glasses on the desk she then took her place at he front corner to wait. He would be back at any time now and they had matters to discuss. After the arrest of Captain Anduron, she had a feeling he would be in need of an albeit temporary distraction.

Scanning the wall adjacent to the ladder, Coatleque had to squint in the dim light to make out any kind of a footing. Luckily there was a ledge, though it was barely a full foot's length deep. The ledge ran from the door to the ladder and had a thin arm rail close to the wall above it. Clearly designed for maintenance to be able to reach the ladder from the door without the need to jump and pray for the best. At the zealous urging of the woman below her she carefully stepped out from the ladder with one foot to the ledge while feeling for the hand rails. A slight tug ensured it was secure before she dared push off from the ladder to hug the wall. There was no room to turn even her head to look back without awkwardly leaning away from the precarious ledge, so she hoped for the best for Evangeline as she shimmied along the ledge to the door. From her angle it was even harder to see anything despite the cracks of light peeking through the door. She felt her hand along the seems and between to try and find something to grip but was having very little luck of it. "I don't know... what am I looking for?"

While I understand your frustration, I have to point out that it is not a bad thing to reward people who have/are able to put in such time. None of us are entitled to be able to see or obtain every last bit of digital splendor from the game.

Hmm... will she have to lay with a Voidsent first?

Here's some in-game credence to the fact that the Sultansworn do NOT spend their entire lives in the Palace: From the mouth of the Grand Master himself. (Thanks to Kale for pointing this out to me)

Too much bloom. Torchlight should not make your gloves painful to look at.

Crofte: Self-righteous, egotistical, and perhaps overly pious. This Knight-on-loan from Ul'dah will be the first to let you know of all your wrong decisions. She is perfect for those who desire a constant life-coach, but to those who walk a less than scrupulous path her baleful accusations may grind on the soul.

*skip whole video to end* So what I took away from it was... Looks like some kind of fight.

"Oi, I'm goin', I'm goin'!" Coatleque did not bother to look down again but continued a somewhat quickened ascent up the ladder. She almost had concern over stepping on the other woman's hands before shrugging it off as her own fault if she dared to follow so closely behind. It was not as if she could concentrate on climbing while watching her step below. The shaft only became darker the higher they ascended, and soon the rungs of the ladder were little more than faint grey lines that disappeared if one dared to look away and back again. It was then that she saw the thin white outline of light seeping through cracks in the wall. Coatleque stopped suddenly and called down "Hold! Look, there. Is that a door?"

No, no, not tundra 'of'! Just "a tundra different puns"

Coatleque stopped her ascent once more at the quip over her apparently massive thighs and closed her eyes. Her forehead rested momentarily against the cold steel of the gauntlet that gripped the ladder just in front of her before she looked down to Evangeline who had also stopped below. She had no more words, no logical objection or witty retort. She only scowled disapprovingly. Suddenly an incendiary was being lobbed in her direction. "What? Wait!..." was all she managed to cry out before the flare was almost face-level. The toss was slightly wide, however, and she had to let go of the ladder with one hand and swing out from the wall to reach it. There was a ping as her gauntlet smacked against it, followed by a crack as the flare hit the opposite wall. Coatleque cursed as she clamored back to the ladder. Another metallic groan echoed around them as the hinges protested the sudden shift in weight. A second later a clatter was heard below as the flare presumably landed on the top of the lift. "What are ye doing!?" She cried, heart pounding at having nearly fell. "Ye cannae just hurl things at me like tha!"

Coatleque is still learning how. She has had a smattering of teachers over the past five or six years, but no formal education. The first was a fellow slave, Sapphire, who had to teach her the mannerisms expected by the clientele (and mostly so she could read documents and distinguish gil denominations to steal). Her lessons were only reinforced later by the conjuror's guild. And finally, she's had to self-teach herself the rest as it becomes necessary by her current position.

There are some things you should not try to read too far into. Based on how primitive the lore panel has stated Eorzea to be, they probably have as many rights as a typical serf in feudal Europe.

fearless Half-elf Paladin from a local street gang who distrusts all authority...

Her climbing stopped for a moment as her hands gripped the bar of the ladder in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "So much for averting ones eyes..." She muttered to herself, though it would still echo loud enough. Through some force of will she continued to ascend once again. "Who I am meeting is none of your concern. To be perfectly honest, he may not even be there. Such is the nature of his business." She began to pant from her exertions combined with long-winded explanations. "How bloody high is this place anyway?"

They may have the reach, but Aya has flexibility. Damn it, I got the two threads confused again!

Coatleque does not flirt. She seduces. She is pure as new-fallen snow. She ignores romance to focus on work. She drinks heavily to cover up her loneliness. I don't know where I'm going with this anymore.

If only Crofte could fight someone quite as ... vigorous. Her fighting style is not derived from any one source. She aims low, dodges what she can, and tries to subdue rather than kill. The worst injury I've ever caused in the corse of an RP battle was to hamstring an NPC to take him out of the fight. (Also, killing Voidsent doesn't count)

You people and your weapons. I thought this thread was called "Flirting" techniques. I am disappoint.

"Avert your eyes? As if one such as you would lower her standards enough to bother with one such as I?" The ladder was a little more than a step away from the Elevator itself, and there were no catwalks. It was a maintenance ladder and nothing more, extending from the bottom to the very top of the lift's shaft. Coatleque peered over the edge of the lift into inky blackness before stepping back with a sigh. She stepped forward again and pushed off the lift into a jump, catching the ladder and quickly wrapping her arms around one of the rails to steady herself. A metallic groan echoed down the shaft at the sudden addition of her weight to the rarely used ladder. A moment later she managed a look back to Evangeline. "Alright... it held. Let's get out of here." With that she began to climb.