Coatleque

Beautiful lighting there.

From chat this morning. Note: none of this is based on lore!

City-state Waste Management employee. A janitor. The NPC who has to mop up the blood after the grindstone, lug piles of Brass Blade bodies around, and dispose of all the toxic materials left behind as the bad guys were forced to flee their laboratories from the advancing heroes.

You just know something bad is about to happen here.

(( Tongue in cheek )) Passing through the city once more, the figure stopped and commented to herself. "Ah, Ishgard. The city always brings a chill to my heart." As she continued from the lower city to the Cathedral for her evening prayers, the headline caught her eye tacked to a notice board. "What's this? Masked vigilante strikes?" Fingers slowly traced the letters. "Wait'll they get a load of me."

I know a few Highlanders who are former resistance members. And one kinslayer who likes to hunt them down. The idea has been touched upon before. I think a linkshell would be a great idea if there was someone to keep it active.

sen·tient ˈsen(t)SH(ē)ənt/ adjective able to perceive or feel things. Sentience does not mean thinking, it means feeling. It does not mean talking, it means reacting. There are many sentient objects in lore, including soulstones. They do not communicate directly, but they are able to influence their world around them via other types of reaction to stimuli. I do not think it far-fetched at all that your staff can display sentience.

"The world could use more people like you, Coatleque. Keep up the good work, and you'll make the Nice List every year!" :blush:

Here we have the dubious Marlboco, charging up for 'bad kweh!' attack. (credit to Verad & Co, in case 'dubious' wasn't enough hint) [edit] He looked entirely too cheerful. Here's some shading.

Donald LaFontaine voice: "Betrayed by the one closest to her, now she seeks only vengeance. Can her friends save her before she loses herself to it?" [mysteriously epic music]

I am very selfish and talk about my character and what she's doing constantly. At the end of the day I worry she's just another cookie-cutter 90's era paladin with very predictable reactions. And perhaps a tad under-powered.

Then this is really a violation of Eorzean copyright law. We should bring a class-action suit against Gerolt.

I'll agree that the model was lazy for the first step, but I can also understand why they did it. The Esoteric's gear is supposed to be "AF2" correct? Which means the weapon is already supposed to be some kind of job related artifact. Hence you are imbuing said weapon with more power.

My weapon has always been one step behind the rest of my gear. /shrug Means more time for RP right?

Well, at least you have the most annoying one done already.

From what I heard this morning by someone already grinding, the drop rate from FATEs is considerably higher than the original Atma grind was. 6 were obtained in the span of an hour. I would say no, it's not worth finishing Zeta just to skip.

I only acknowledge them if someone else does first. Begrudgingly at that.

I would like enough RP to render me unable to grind the new relic.

Regarding Chachanji's room... (Osric Melkire) I am surprised to not find giant blood smears across these walls reading "i'm gonna halp them. im gonna halp them all"

"Nothing will change." her voice trailed off weakly. "Is that what you want?" "I want back the man who found me so maddening.. the one whom I find equally so." He looked away, perhaps for the first time he was unable to meet her gaze. "I told you how I feel. It doesn't matter. You cannot help me." "Because you do not let me! Just as I try to get close to you, you push me further away!" "What would you have me do?" he snapped. Her silence was more than enough of an answer to him. [align=center]V[/align] For two days Coatleque wandered the Western Highlands. She moved slowly, eyes always wary as she searched for anything - any sign of Dheres's passing. The blizzard some nights before had covered over any tracks, and to her chagrin there was nothing. Not a witness, no caravan, not even a strawberry blonde hair visible against the constant white glare of the land before her. Despite the weather holding this long, she was cold, wet, and utterly miserable. She was no stranger to life on the road, but even this had begun to stretch her limits. She slept little if at all, huddled around a pitiful fire and surrounded by feathers as her bird wisely kept close for the good of them both. Only when dark clouds began to threaten the skies again did she make her way back to Falcon's Nest to resupply and consider her options again. The road to the city had been blocked once more which meant supplies would triple in price. It did not matter how she argued, tried to bargain, exchange favors. House Dzemael's merchants would not move a gil on their prices until the road was cleared again. One did offer a small discount if she would just 'give him a peek'. This prompted a short, humorless 'hah' before she stormed off again. To the commander she went a second time to request information. She needed to know how far to the next settlement at least. Perhaps she could reach it before the storm grew too thick. From there she could venture further into the Highlands if necessary, or so she thought. The commander urged her to reconsider though. Even the residents knew it would be her death to be caught in the Highlands after dark now. "If ye'll take my advice, ye'll find a warm place an' a warm bowl an' wait out his weather, lass. Favors from a High House is rarer than a crow with three feet for most of us, aye?" "And if I do not heed your advice?" He tugged his wool-lined cap a bit lower against a frigid blast of wind from the approaching storm. "If yer wise, ye will. They dun make winters down south like we get 'em here." It was far from ideal, but the commander was right. She had little and less to go on now and if she also perished in the storm there would be no chance that either of them were found. Coatleque bought what few supplies she could afford as well as a room at the inn for the remainder of the night. Now penniless, still cold, and dejected, she tried to sleep till first light of the next morning. Her mount was nearly packed and saddled as the sun finished cresting over the horizon. She tugged upon the saddle straps to be sure everything was secure and had almost climbed atop when she was interrupted by one of the stewards of the garrison. "Mornin', miss. No luck with that Thaelys bugger, eh?" She turned and recognized him as one of those in the mess-hall who had happily drank whatever her coin provided a few nights prior. By his look he was still very much appreciative of that. She shook her head as she turned back to what she was doing. "Not a trace of anyone. It seems Halone's favor trumps any good luck charm of mine this day." Her voice lowered to a murmur. "I do not know how the Champion did it." She spoke of the man on griffon back of course. News around the 'Nest was that he had found and returned one of Haillenarte's lost patrols in the area. It galled her greatly that he could find six men and she could not find even one. "Fury's favor, and long wings, ma'am." The steward continued. "But you know he didn't go through that gate, right? T'was the southern one." "Well of course he did," she scoffed still not looking back. "When he returned with the soldiers he recovered. Wait..." She stopped. A lump began to rise in her throat. "Who did?" "Thaelys, ma'am. Wasn't it him you was askin' for?" Coatleque's hands tightened around the straps of the barding, her shoulders trembled as she leaned forward. Her eyes closed as her forehead met the bird's side. It looked back to her with its dark, beady eyes and cocked head. "You are telling me," she stammered slowly, "that the mercenary trailing the man I am looking for left in the opposite direction?" "Aye, ma'am. Thaelys an' the other one went back through the southern gate after he was done losin'." "Other one? What other one?" She whirled around then, realizing just how badly she had erred. "I thought Swiftblade was alone!" "No ma'am. He took someone with 'im. Didn't Ralfie tell ya that?" "He did not recognize them. He said they came from the north. Could have been anyone." Her lips quivered. "I had thought it was someone else matching the description." She grabbed the chocobo's reins and turned for the southern gate. "Is the road south clear yet?" "Not all the way, ma'am, but enough fer foot traffic." She nodded once, pressing herself once more to the side of the bird. She sighed into his feathers. "So long as I can make it back." She hoisted herself into the saddle. "I would buy you another round, but I think you've all had enough." Her heart sank again as her lead between here and Dheres widened even further. To the city again she rode off.

The commander on duty that night was less than thrilled to be questioned by a stranger just at the end of his shift. Shifting from foot to foot he seemed to be staring over her shoulder just waiting for the next shift to relieve him. Thanks to her persistence he did eventually let out that the supposed mercenary was seen dicing with some of the men. Such frolics were quickly broken up when noticed. He also made it known, with a suggestive smile, that his bed was far warmer than the Coerthas sunrise. A disgruntled sigh and roll of the eyes put that notion to rest quickly, and Coatleque very nearly stormed off towards the mess hall. She was fast losing patience with these so called high-borns. She let herself inside quickly to avoid causing too much of a draft. The near instant warmth she was assaulted with was a welcome relief. Licking her quickly chapping lips, she surveyed the room. Dimly lit, somewhat seedy, smelling of stale ale. Everything one would expect from a remote tavern at a heavily garrisoned fortress. She did find one stool available and set herself down between two very drunk looking soldiers. Between her blade, her armor, and a very sharp glare, it did not take long to convince them their hands were safer on their cups than on her. She was there for information only. Bits of story began to come back together after another two rounds, at her expense of course, and the name 'Thaelys Swiftblade' finally came to the fore. From the mashed descriptions of six different soldiers, she gathered he was extremely tall, almost gaunt, with hair the color of night and a dagger-shaped beard. His did not favor him at all, and he lost at least sixty gil. The man was none to eager to go out into the storm, but it was thought he may have been seen leading another man towards the city. The description was not clear though. One tall man leading a smaller figure wrapped in a cloak with his arm around. She sat and quietly mulled that over for a few minutes while the men went back to their drinks. She realized then that she had no idea from which direction Jameson had returned. And no reason to believe it was the mercenary seen last night. Her mind was made up then. She thanked the men with enough coin for one final round before rising and heading towards the stables. To her great displeasure, there was a line at the stable this morning. A line of one, but a line no less. The woman in front of her whom had seemingly arrived with plenty of time before, was arguing with the stablehand. She had requested TWO birds, not one. Coatleque was made to wait at the side before her own bird would be retrieved. She eyed the woman with some measure of annoyance. "Yes, the hardy one, and one who can at least keep up, as I said several times. Surely you are not so beleaguered with tourists that you cannot afford me two birds. The best two, as you know." The paladin bristled instantly at the voice. Or perhaps it was the chill morning wind blowing in from the clifside to the east of Falcon's Nest. Her mouth twitched and went flat as her lips pressed together. "Lady Eglantine." Edda glared at the stablehand in her growing impatience. He was in no amount of hurry to help her, so she snapped a cold look towards the voice. "Can I help you?" "No, I do believe you have helped me quite enough already." "Ah." She turned immediately back to the Chocobokeep without seeming to recognize the woman behind her. His own patience was wearing thin as well now. Edda seemed woefully unprepared herself, and sorted through a meager looking gil purse before simply handing the entire thing over. This changed his tune immediately." "Ah? That's it? Ah? What are you doing h..." Coatleque stopped as the transaction was made. The keeper looked through the purse before whistling to the stablehand. Two large birds were led out, fully saddled and stocky. The second was led by the reigns of the leading bird. Both were promptly handed over to Edda who took a few moments to inspect them wordlessly. In the mean time, Coatleque's own mount was finally brought after the first two. Not nearly as stocky as the specimens Edda could afford. She turned and began inspecting her own barding - the two women being back-to-back now. "Going somewhere, my Lady?" Edda stopped to look over her shoulder with a now surprised look. "So it would seem.." Her words came carefully now as if it was a trick question. "With two birds even. Planning to collect someone?" "If it comes to that, yes. That is the hope." There was a pause between them as they continued their preparations. "You are chasing after the boy as well." Coatleque said at length, and matter-of-factly. "That was the idea, yes." The paladin climbed atop her mount then after being contented with her provisions. She quirked a brow at the woman as she reeled the bird around. "Does James know what you are doing?" "I would be surprised if he did." "I must protest your decision. Your place is by his side right now, and to not let him know your plans..." Edda seemed surprised by that. She smiled. "No, I think not. This is my responsibility after all." Coatleque stopped, taken aback by her claim. "I beg your pardon, mi'lady, but it is mine. His safety was entrusted to me, and had I not simply left him as I did this would not have happened." Edda laughed darkly. "Oh, I will not stop you, believe me. Whatever oaths you have do not absolve me of my own responsibilities, however." "I cannot perform my own search and see to your safety as well." Coatleque frowned now. "And if anything did happen to you, James would hold me accountable. For both our sake, if there is any way I could dissuade you, please turn back." She paused, waiting for a response. The thought crossed her mind to force the issue - she certainly had the authority to now that Jameson asked her to look over his house. Edda looked incredulously at her. "I certainly don't recall asking you to see to my own safety. I would hope that you would not stop me. My death will only surely result in your unprecedented happiness, as it were. And if you think James to be at all concerned with my well-being, I would simply urge you to lie about ever seeing me here." She snorted at that. "Do not think he does not care for you simply because you fail to recognize it. You are just as much a fool as he is. Fine then! If you wish to play in the snow, I certainly will not stop you. Try not to freeze to death." Her words again took on a familiar biting tone as she cut them off towards the end. Edda climbed atop her mount and smiled with an incline of her head. "As you say. Is there anything else you might have need of before your trek?" Coatleque withdrew the small sachet given to her by Tamsin and dangled it by the ribbon in display. "No, I have all the luck I need for now. Stay warm, Lady Eglantine. I shall see you when I return with young Lord Algincourt." "If you are lucky, Ser Crofte, you will never see me again. I will pray for your good fortune." Yet another smile was met with a familiar icy glare before the two women set off in nearly opposite directions across the Western highlands.

More non-FF related nonsense.

Slowly, evenly, the darkened figure moved through the frozen city. It would have even appeared to be gliding over the cobblestones had the heavy fall of boot steps not told otherwise. It paused just before the door to the inn to stare at the wall of fluttering papers tacked and nailed for public display. A long dagger was drawn, hefted, and reversed before being jammed violently into the poster. The figure drew closer as if to speak to the image. "Sinner", it hissed. "Your words will no longer save you." It's hand withdrawn, the knife left in place seemed to sever the head from the body of the image. With one last snarl, the figure moved on.