Coatleque

Sir / Ser is used generally when authority is given to the subject by someone else. You would say 'yes Sir' to a military officer, manager, task master, knight, or the like. Lord / Lady is used when authority is given to the subject by yourself. Someone who has authority simply because you recognize it as such. "My Lord" / "My Lady" you would say to a king or queen, magistrate, baron, wealthy merchant, other nobility, or even a simple customer if you were working retail because you have placed yourself under them.

It felt as an eternity to her. Sitting there in the middle of the desert waiting. What more could she do, though? Dheres was still unconscious. Her arm throbbed with every beat of her heart. Coatleque tried to keep herself calm if only to slow her heart to lessen the pain. Still propped against the bolder with eyes half lidded watching over her ward. The conjuration finally began to fade and the boy's skin and clothes shed the calloused, grey stone for their natural look and feel. Coatleque took a deep breath and crawled the few paces back over to him. Again she shook him gently by the shoulder. "My lord Algincourt? Dheres, please, you must wake up." He twitched, head rolled to the side as he choked out something incoherent, then fell back to unconsciousness again. She examined his wound again now that it was more visible. He was still bleeding. Fearing it may re-open under too much stress, she knew it would need immediate tending. Scooping her arm around him and pulling, she again tried in vain to lift him. Lifting dead weight with one arm is not easy, however, even for those in good health. She stumbled and he began to slip out of her arm causing her to instinctively reach with the other hand. While she did manage to set him down gently, the strain caused her to cry out again and she staggered away clutching her bad arm tightly to her. Settling in by the boulder again, she rubbed a hand down her face in thought. It was the middle of the night, at the week's end in Thanalan. Where would the closest healer be and who would even be awake? Two realizations suddenly hit her. Firstly that there was a fighting tournament underway barely two bells away. They always had at least one medic present by necessity. But secondly... it would mean asking him for help. Coatleque groaned and looked to her ward. Her relationship with Warren was nothing sordid, and certainly not hidden. They had parted over a cycle ago under much the same reasons as she and Jameson. He simply chose someone else. Someone better, she told herself. It seemed to be a repeating pattern in her life now. The fact that he was the only one in reach capable of helping only served to rub salt in an old wound. Her mouth twitched at the thought while her hand slowly raised to her ear to activate her pearl. "Warren? Ser Castille, if you are listening... please respond. I - I know you may be busy..." Her ears strained at the pause to follow; Her pulse echoing through her head. "Hm?" She cried out. A loud and joyous "HAH" that broke into stammered laughter. "Warren! I need a healer. Please, if you have any you can spare - I am on the road from Black Brush to Horizon and have a wounded man who will bleed out if he is not tended immediately! We are overlooking the expedition site." "Sit tight." came the response. "Thank the Twelve!" She sighed with immediate relief. "You are a godsend, Arbiter. I owe you." It was nearly a full bell later when help did arrive in the form of Artemis Newton. Coatleque still sat propped against her rock, listing to the side and nodding occasionally as she jerked herself awake. Her arm had begun to numb in the cold night air and the bandage was soaked through. Artemis saw her first and approached only to be waved off to the side dumbly. "Neck wound," she mumbled. "I've done what I could." The woman of many trades turned and knelt to see to Dheres's wounds. Aether flowing from her as if pouring water from a cistern. Coatleque may have been jealous of the ability were her mind not clouded from her own wound. Despite her protests of being 'fine', the tiny Eos worked its own magic to close the wound on either side of her arm. She stood and unwrapped the bloody field bandage, letting it lie with the rest of her tattered cloak. She flexed her hand a few times to test her arm before joining the other woman next to Dheres. "Not responsive, sadly." Artemis looked up to her. "Not much I can do here. You take one shoulder and I will get the other. We'll make a nice procession to Black Brush." Between the two women they managed to hoist the young lord to their shoulders. Half carrying and half dragging they stumbled their way the remaining few malms to the mine train station. Once there, Dheres was propped against the wall of the Stone Torch's office. Coatleque spoke to the men on duty about bandits along the road while Artemis saw to transportation. They met a few minutes later at the door. "SoooOO. You want to maybe paint me a picture here about this?" Artemis began to press. "It would take far too long." Coatleque shook her head. "I must stay with him. Is there anywhere else he could recover for the night?" The pair conversed in hushed voices to avoid further unwanted attention. Of closest locations, the Coffer and Coffin was far too public. Black Brush was already alerted to her presence, and news of wounded travelers would spread like wildfire. They could not go north as that meant passing straight through his father's land. No, the only option was to press eastward. A few minutes later, Dheres was strapped tightly on the back of one Chocobo while Coatleque held two sets of reins atop a second. Brief and mumbled farewells were said with the promise of not speaking of her passing through the area. The pair then set off eastward per the current plan. The remainder of the night passed in silence, and Coatleque had trouble staying awake as the birds plodded onward. Whether by luck or fate they did eventually reach Drybone as the sky began to glow the first signs of dawn breaking. Stumbling into the inn with an unconscious man over her shoulder, Coatleque somehow reached for her coin purse and managed to spill gil over the counter and floor. Mumbling incoherently to the staff on duty about a room for the night, the last thing she remembered was her world spinning as she collapsed hopefully over a bed.

Ser is the archaic form of Sir and is considered gender neutral where Sir is masculine and not grammatically correct to be used for women.

"RAAAHH! Die you meddling bitch!" The pair had been taken almost entirely by surprise. Almost. Where her senses not already heightened by the cloak of night and the suspicions raised as they passed through Scorpion's Crossing. The Sultansworn are trained, however, to protect a much higher value target than the low-born son of a lesser lord. She barely jumped aside, avoiding an untimely end, and drew her own blade to face their attacker. Coatleque placed herself immediately between her ward and assailant and pulled back her cowl with her free hand. She glared at him from under her bangs as he brandished his sword. "Stay back, milord!" the man called out as if yelling past her. He then rushed at her to press his attack with a stab to her midsection. She noted that his attack was clumsy if not inexperienced. The man did not have formal training. This fight would be decidedly one-sided. Her blade twisted to parry him easily and with much more force than he was accustomed to. As he staggered backwards, Coatleque leveled her blade parallel to the ground with both hands and stepped back to force distance between the two men. "I am warning you... put up your blade. Now!" "A-Alfonso, you fool! Hold! Both of you! Hold I say!" Dheres called out futilely from behind her. The young Flame reached for the non-existent sword at his side. Alfonso wasted no chance in the mean time. He kicked up the dust and sand from the road right towards the pair. While Dheres caught his own mouthful, Coatleque turned aside and spun away from the predicted low-cut to her knees in order to keep her distance. This unfortunately now placed her attacker between her and her ward. As the poor boy sputtered, coughed, and gagged, Alfonso looped round behind him and pressed his blade to Dheres's throat. Coatleque froze suddenly, blade still poised and ready to strike. Her eyes half lidded as she peered at the man, gauging what he might do next to present an opening for her. "BACK!" He demanded of her more than once. Slowly she circled the pair, and he twisted his captor along to keep her facing. "A-Alfonso!" The boy choked out in shock. "Why are you doing this?!" She hissed at him. "Damn you, bitch! I'll do it, so help me!" Her weapon did not lower, her poise remained calm. "You might, but you do not want to." Her voice had slowed, become more calming as she tried to suggest to him this was most unwise. She had stopped circling now but kept her gaze steady with his. "DROP the BLADE, Sworn! You are leaving me no choice!" She paused. Her blade began to dip slowly. "I SAID DROP IT!" A thud followed as steel impacted the hardened dirt below. "Do not do anything rash." She offered, her hands remained open palmed. The man snarled now that he had the clear upper hand. His blade slackened ever so perceptibly over the terrified and motionless captive between his arms. "Right. Good. Now, back the fuck up." Coatleque did not step back, but one hand did lower to her side in a clenched fist. Her gaze remained fixed on Alfonso, her opposite hand outstretched in a soothing gesture. "W-we can talk this out, yes?!" Dheres managed to choke out again. "Oh, aye, milord. When we get our money! What's he worth to you, Sworn? Clearly somethin'!" "He is worth more to me than any price you could collect", she hissed. While her one hand remained outstretched as a distraction, the clenched fist by her side began to glow dully. Her concentration was split - it would take just a few moments longer to channel the spell while she kept him busy. Alfonso grinned tauntingly, a rotting tooth showing through. "Then a million gil ought t' be no trouble a'tall, aye? That's what we want! A million!" "Who is we!?" Dheres hissed through clenched teeth. "Never you mind, pretty boy!" "What is one million gil," Coatleque whispered, "weighed against the man I love?" With that she threw her clenched fist upwards and directed at Dheres. Her conjuration complete, the boy's skin and clothes began to calcify over in a hardened, grey shell. Alfonso flinched and stared at the unexpected change giving her just the break in concentration she needed. Coatleque rushed forward and threw her shoulder into the boy unexpectedly. Now at least twice his previous weight and armored, he fell backwards into Alfonso who's blade slipped along his neckline before dropping from his hand. The pair toppled over just as she had expected. Dheres landed across Alfonso's leg pinning him in place while simultaneously wrapping his own head off a large stone and falling unconscious. Coatleque rounded them immediately and kicked the man's sword away then turned and laid her boot to his face. His eyes crossed and he slumped backwards. "Stay down." She murmured. She knelt down beside Dheres to examine where the blade had slipped and found he was cut. Deeply so. Her conjuration was all that had saved his life from draining away right there on the road. "Damn it!" she whispered to nobody in particular. Glancing up and down the road as if expecting travelers at this time of night, her heart sank when she saw no one. So she turned back to him and wrapped her hands gently around his neck. She cursed herself again for never having gone back to Jancis to practice her conjury. Of all the most basic spells in Eorzea, that of curing was the one she had most difficulty with. She refused to let him bleed out, however. Summoning forth what strength she could, she directed her flow of aether into him with just enough efficacy to slow the bleeding to a bare trickle. As the soft glow faded from her hands she slumped over from the strain. Dheres twitched underneath her, bringing her sense back to reality if only for the nonce. She jerked upright. Her hands slid across the light, but now stony armor of his chest. "M-my lord," she stammered. "Are you alright?" There was no response from him, but what she did not expect was the struggling of Alfonse still pinned beneath him. His arm crossed over out of nowhere, stabbing a long dagger into her arm. Steel pierced leather and flesh clean through as Coatleque cried out in pain. Pain, anger, terror. Her survival instinct caught up a moment later as her left hand balled into a fist and cross over to punch him square in the face. His hand pulled back, taking the knife with him as he held his now bloodied nose with the other. Coatleque pushed herself back from them. Her injured arm was held close to her stomach as blood began to soak the leather. Her head spun and all time seemed to slow. "He stabbed me... he stabbed me... he stabbed me!'" Her mind had trouble just processing that fact. It was as if this was some dream pulled over her eyes she expected to wake from. She thought he was incapacitated, that she had won the field, yet he pressed on. Scrambling to her feet then, she instinctively grasped the closest weapon from the ground in her left hand. The man's own blade. Then a new thought flashed through her mind. That of failure. "I will NOT fail him!" she forcefully protested against her weakening limbs. Despite his plea now for mercy, it was over in another heartbeat. Coalteque fell to her knees beside the now lifeless man, her weight pressed forward over the hilt of his own blade that now pinned him to the ground through the chest. She stared. Stared. She could not look away. The smell of blood hung thick in the air almost causing her to wretch. As her vision slowly sharpened again she remembered poor Dheres. Turning away she crawled back to his side, arm still pressed to her stomach. Still unconscious. She tried to wake him, vainly shaking him by the shoulder with her good hand. She bowed low to be sure he was still breathing then surveyed the area. Settling on a more sparse looking area to the opposite side of the road, she wrapped both arms under his and pulled. Pulled with all her remaining strength, crying out painfully from the strain on her wounded arm. Once he was clear of the other body she removed her cloak and cut a strip off the bottom to wrap her arm. She pulled the field bandage tight while blinking away her own tears of pain and then propped herself against a boulder nearby. It was near midnight by her guess... and they were going nowhere in this state.

Very little was said for the first half of their journey. Coatleque wore her typical stern expression signalling she was focused on her mission. Dheres flitted between melancholy and some sort of agitation. The paladin considered him to be taking the news of his brother's demise rather well. Or perhaps it was all a show - her time spent around Jameson and other nobility by proxy had given her a glimpse at the steel nerves that were required of the rich and powerful. More so than any time she had spent in the palace. The house of Ul was a very static mode of living by comparison. Very little had changed in the palace since she had joined the Order those few years ago. With the exception of recent political scandals, there was hardly any excitement to be had. Not that Coatleque was one to complain - she preferred the quiet. Even she could grow bored, however. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon by the time they reached Scorpion's Crossing. To her benefit, Oswell knew who he was dealing with and had pacified the guards for the most part. Still, further proof could not hurt. Dheres waited patiently while she spoke with the Blade Commander on duty. Badges were flashed and reparations promised should the bird fail to be recovered. Imme was content enough with that though she still flashed the Sworn a look of annoyance. Coatleque collected her charge again at the northwestern gate. Checking both their supplies she glanced behind to scan the square. A small group had gathered and began to murmur to themselves, pointing in their direction. It was then she decided to raise her cowl again. Adjusting her sword, she pulled the boy closer to her before urging him onward. They still had malms to cover on foot and light was quickly fading. When they were a hundred yalms from the crossing, Dheres finally took it upon himself to break the silence between them. "So, how is Lord Taeros?," he began. "I was cheered to hear his demise had been greatly exaggerated." Of all things to speak of, this was not the best conversation he could have chosen. Coatleque swallowed and kept her eyes on the road in the distance. "As was I. He has seen better days. I pray he sees them again soon." She did not see the boy smiling at her. "Are there plans to wed?" A pause. "He has many plans. None with me, sadly." It was not hard for him to guess at her meaning. Another silence fell between them then, but this one carried a familiar awkwardness to it. He muttered an apology and she assured him none was required. They were nearing the cliffs overlooking the ruins of Sil'dah when he tried to speak up again. A change of subject might have done some good had the paladin been at all interested in conversation. Instead she stopped and took him by the shoulder, spinning him to face her. "Mi'lord Algincourt, are you absolutely certain this is wise?" She hissed at him. The sun had disappeared entirely now and gloaming was giving way to twilight. Black Brush was still a bell or more away and the chances of ambush increased with each minute after dark. "Is what wise?" he stammered. "If your father does intend you harm, you may be walking into an ambush!" Dheres looked at her as though she may be addled and she very well may have been. "Father would not harm me, Ser Crofte! Why would you say such a thing!? I am all the son he has left! I know I am not what he might have hoped for, but..." She cut him off there, her voice still hissing in annoyance. "What he might do and what he will do are two separate things!" "You do not know him. Yes, he is... can be difficult. But he loves his sons, and more - the honor of his house!" "Yes, well," she swallowed. "I've learned much of how lords show their love." They both paused once more. She released his shoulder and turned back to the road. "I'm sorry." She heard him call out behind her as she continued down the road. "Can I ask what happened between you?" His steps quickly grew louder as he caught back up to her. She stopped again but refused to look at him. "My lord chose someone else. Simple as that." She waited only a moment before taking her next step, and Dheres began to voice another apology when his words were cut off by a cry of rage from around a boulder to the side of the road. The pair spun on their heels just in time to see a flash of steel in the moonlight, bearing down towards the paladin's neck.

The man had seemingly followed her from Scorpions Crossing on foot. He trotted to the bottom of the stairs and looked as if he could collapse any moment. Doubling over and leaning on his knees to regain his breath he stammered, "Lord Dheres!," followed by more heavy panting. "Thank the gods I found you! Get away from that woman" One hand was lifted from a knee to point accusingly at Coatleque who had not yet replaced her hood. "What is your name, ser. For I know this woman well. Her honor is unimpeachable." came the reply. The young lordling sat tall on his mount as the man slowly approached. The young woman he was with seemed to cower away as this was very much more intrigue than she was ever used to. Coatleque slowly stepped around the bird to place herself between the man and her charge, reaching her hand across her midriff into her cloak to grasp at something. "Alfonso, Lord Dheres! Your father sent me!" He staggered up two more stairs closer to them before doubling over again. The man may have ran the entire distance. "With what news?" "Yes... what news does Lord Algincourt bring?" Coatleque echoed as she peered at the newcomer. "Beggin' yer pardon, but my news is for Lord Dheres!" The man continued to press upon them, and despite the knight's warnings the boy eventually dismounted. "Please stop your quibbling. I am certain we can all find a reasonable arrangement. This is Ser Crofte of the Sultansworn. Do not let her cloaked visage frighten you." She groaned inwardly as her name was once again spoken aloud - and to a clear threat this time. Her grip tightened within her robe, her body tensed as the man drew closer to the now ground-level young lord. "Lord Dheres, there's news. Family news." "Is it my father?" "No, milord. Yer brother." "Marcoul? Was he wounded? Tell me!" A glance was thrown again from Alfonso to the other two bystanders. The girl, Belaire, remained huddled by her chocobo at the top of the steps. Coatleque remained a step away from the boy and looked as if ready to spring at any moment. "Milord, he's dead. I'm to bring you back right away. We've been tryin to locate you for five days." Such news was a shock to perhaps all present, but none more so than young Dheres who's eyes began to swell. He stumbled forward past the two in a daze while mumbling quietly to himself. "Marcoul... not Marcoul. He was sweet, gentle. He loved poetry, was not reckless like Jeremaine." Belaire finally descended the stairs and rushed to him as she also pushed past the knight and the messenger. Her hand reached for his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. Coatleque watched the two for a moment before trying to resume her post between Dheres and this stranger. Alfonse stopped her with a hand. "Ain't no funny business while Alfonse is about. Who sent you, eh?" She complied out of respect. A curl came to her lips. "That is for him to know." She scanned the road nervously before pushing past the messenger. The man eyed her annoyedly but made no move to draw his blade. "Mi'lord, we must speak before you return home." Belaire continued her consolations of the young lord. His immediate grief began to subside as the realization of his position took hold. "I'm... I'm the heir." His head jerked upwards suddenly. He spun on his heels to face her and Coatleque both. "This will shame my father, surely. We were to return to Ishgard. The Algincourts. We are three generations removed from setting foot in that hallowed city. After Jerem... was killed, Marcoul was groomed to succeed. Our return under Halianarte's banner was to be..." His words trailed off. "I am sure you'll do well!" Belaire offered in him in all sincerity. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "I am not Elezen. I cannot produce an Algincourt heir. Father adopted me for a kindness. A debt he owed my honorable mother. Now this is all he has?" The paladin kept silent, allowing the boy to reflect on his loss while she exchanged distrustful glances with the so-called messenger. As if the man could tell what she was thinking he turned back to young Algincourt to once more attempt at persuading him over to his side. "Your lord father would urgently like to see you safe and sound." He eyed Coatleque suspiciously. Dheres looked over to them at that point and gestured to Belaire before drawing close to the paladin. Leaning in, he noted "Ser Crofte, you asked a word?" "Yes, a word alone please. About why I am here." Dheres nodded. "Very well." He gestured to follow and the two climbed back up to where the mounts had been left. In low voices they conversed so as not to be heard by the messenger. There she explained why she had come, who had sent her, and the perceived danger the lad was in. "My lord Taeros sent me to find you. While I am sorry for your loss, truly, you must understand my suspicions. I was told your life is in danger and was to find you before your father did. I must urge you not to return to him." The boy was not entirely convinced of her words. She did believe his own father wished him ill, after all. "Why would father harm me? I am now his only... I mean, it has been difficult at times. Our relation. I have not always lived up to his ... expectations. Try as I may, I see in his eyes that I am not his son. Not the way my brothers are." His voice lowered as if some realization just occurred. "Oh gods," he whispered. "As I said, he may be your greatest danger now. Lord Taeros awaits you in Ishgard, and if you must tarry then I insist I stay by your side now that you have announced my involvement to all present." She gestured to the girl and the man who had been left standing awkwardly at the bottom of the stair. "That father would harm me is absurd! And why should I not say who you are? Why do you travel cloaked, Ser Crofte?" "Because discretion was requested of me!" She hissed at him, now clearly displeased. "And I do not intend to fail my lord!". Dheres paused to take in her words before gesturing for her to follow. They descended the stairs with him leading the mounts to the pair who awaited, voices raised back to normal levels once more. "I suggest a compromise." Dheres began. "Ser Alfonse, I regret to inform you that I will not be accompanying you. I will accompany Ser Crofte who will personally escort me to my father. I assure you I will reach his hall safely. You are dismissed." The man began to protest but was cut off by a hand wave from the young lord. He turned away quite visibly upset and began trudging back towards the crossing, uttering curses and muttering to himself until he was out of earshot. That is when Dheres turned back to Belaire with a request to see the birds returned to the stables. Coatleque watched them momentarily from a short distance before turning away to give them a respectful bit of privacy. Once farewells had been said, Dheres stood beside the knight to signal he was ready to depart. Assuring her his fathers estate was not too far away, they set out. The sun hanging low upon the horizon.

Pacing must be set by whoever is leading the event, is what it comes down to. The two latest IC threads I've been in (Outside of Passion, Language of Loyalty) are taken from in-game RP that has been happening over the past 4+ months now. Some of the planning for that was done near the beginning of this year. All of us involved went into it knowing ahead of time that this will be a very slow, drawn-out story. The section I've been writing this week involved a walk from Thanalan to Coerthas which took a RL week to finish. So I do not agree that in-game perceptions of distance can screw over pacing. It is entirely up to the people involved to know when and where to stop, or for the DM to call "SCENE" when it's time for a break.

Just over half a bell later, the Silver Baazar was in sight and she had seen no trace of the man she was looking for. Would that she was not being pursued she may have stopped to look for tracks along the road. So she rode onward, eyes constantly scanning the road and plateaus to either side. Still at full flight, it was by mere chance she spotted the pair of chocobos off the road towards the old lighthouse. She pulled the reins hard after a double-take which prompted a loud wark and dust cloud as the bird skidded sideways. Two riders were standing just up the stairs before the doors. One male, one female by the look of their clothes from a distance. They noticed her quickly and the man waved an arm and hand high over his head to flag her down. "Hello there rider!" he called out. Drawing the bird up alongside the bottom step, she dismounted and turned to wave back a signal that she was no threat. Her cloak was still drawn tight, her hood covering her fiery locks and pulled low in front of her eyes. The paladin wasted no time ascending the stair to meet them. "Hello." the man said again with some hint of caution. She could see the woman also fidgeting nervously to the side. "Forgive me, my lord, lady. Would you happen to be the son of Lord Algincourt?" Coatleque glanced from one to the other before settling her gaze on the woman. Their eyes met briefly, then they both looked away. Her cowl was pulled down even further when she recognized Lady Mandercrown's handmaiden. Coatleque immediately moved to stand between the pair then, keeping her back to the woman so as not to be recognized. The boy drew himself up from his position atop his own mount. "I am," he replied forthrightly. "But few are supposed to know. What is your business? If my father sent you, I should ask you to turn and go. I am not to return to his side for... a while yet." The man she was looking for was in fact no man at all. A boy, just coming of age by his appearance. He had an odd look to him. While his name was certainly Elezen, he was Midlander himself - though with much more fair features than one would expect. Though he was clearly young, a long scar already graced his cheek along the right side. "Nay, not your father - a concerned friend. I would urge you to come with me if possible. There are those nearby who seek to do you harm." "Then show me your face if you are truly a friend,... friend. You are the first to bring me news of them." She hesitated as if to protest outing herself in public already. She had only just found her target and did not want to risk any recognition. Trust would be required, however, if he was to even agree to go with her. So she lifted her cowl without pulling it back and gave the boy full view of her face, her eyes, her hair. "I mean you no harm, Ser." He blinked. "Lady... er, Ser Crofte!?" Her lip twitched then as she stared into his eyes. "You do not remember me? We met ever so briefly at the Starlight Ball! You were with Lord Taeros." He paused, smiled, tilted his head as if to invoke the memory. "I was a year younger, and with longer hair." Coatleque gave a low sigh and yanked her hood off then. There was no sense hiding now that she was recognized. The handmaiden behind her fidgeted again before sliding down from her bird a little clumsily. She maintained a watchful silence from the side through her thick-framed spectacles. The knight glanced to her with her own sense of caution. She did not entirely trust Belaire, but doubted the girl would stand in her way. She bowed low and respectfully to Dheres. "Forgive me, my lord. I met many faces that night and had plenty of distraction later. I do believe you though I do not recall your face specifically. If you know me, you know that I can be trusted." Her head rose with a slight curl to her lips. "At least I would hope." The boy chuckled at her display. "That is fine. Well, if a Sultansworn tells me I am in danger, then I will believe her! But tell me of this." Coatleque took a step down from the pair then to offer them some distance. "Three men I saw briefly at Scorpions Crossing. They inquired about you. Armed - all of them." "Why would they wish me harm? If they are highwaymen, I would be honored to fight them at your side, Ser Crofte!" The boy's confidence was clear, though she noted he had no sword by his side. One armed Sultansworn protecting two civilians against three hired mercenaries did not make for good odds in her mind. "If I knew that, I would have stopped them before now." She replied. "As it is, I am alone. They struck me as hired mercenaries and heavily armed. No, we must flee in the opposite direction." She gestured towards the Baazar, a plan of escape already forming in her mind. "They would think you are trapped here against the sea." "What of Belaire?!" He protested. "Bring her with if you like! Your safety is paramount. We will not be returning to Ul'dah." "A lady's safety is paramount!" He protested again. Coatleque paused in her decent and turned back. She had not expected such a sense of honor from any young lordling of Thanalan. Her head bowed in deference. "I misspoke, mi'lord. Forgive me." She turned back down the stair again as if to begin leading them away only to be greeted by another man approaching. A familiar face to her, for she had seen him at the Crossing. Stepping backwards, Coatleque drew close to Dheres and pulled lightly upon his leg from where he still sat atop his mount. With a low voice she whispered, "Be wary, my lord, for this man is on of them..."

\o/ C'eleni! You must needs make your way to Ishgard with the rest of us.

Always glad to see people returning when they are able. We've never met, though I hope it that is remedied soon.

You could really mess some people up by having a display name of "Common Err". But that would force conversation, and the need for someone to RP and get to know your character. I'm one of those players who's name does not match what is shown. In fact, Crofte has gone by 3 alias now in the line of duty - only one is her true name and all of three of four people know it.

The next few nights were not more than a haze for Coatleque. She had stormed out of the mansion, was escorted back to the city straight away, and somehow managed to book passage back to Ishgard through tear blurred vision. A few bottles of cheap wine may have been involved afterwords. It was not until she was dragged from (or at least, it felt as though being dragged) the brume to the Forgotten knight to be regailed with tales of Gharen Wolfsong's continued absence by Kage Kiryuu and Delial Grimsong that reality began to coalesce once more. It was their words that brought to her attention the phantom warrior who had began dogging their steps as they searched for the missing man. A mystery in his own right, they had obtained and summarily lost a linkpearl given directly to them by the phantasm! And so for Gharen's sake, if nothing else, Coatleque sobered herself right quick and promised to leave for Ul'dah the next morning to retrieve the pearl from Evangeline Primrose. Having to real desire to speak with Evangeline, she reminded herself frequently on her way south the reason she was doing this. She owed Roen this much at least - to see her brother safe again. Her pensiveness over the engagement began to subside as the air warmed around her the further south she traveled. She was almost looking forward to to being in Ul'dah again by the time she arrived. Until, that is, she ran into Spahro Llorn as she was searching for Evangeline. A few words were traded, and then THIS happened. It was a few days later when Coatleque finally met up with Evangeline. Through her she learned the pearl was in the hands of Sergeant Melkire who by chance was now awaiting court martial in the palace dungeon. Miss Primrose was to be his barrister and agreed to arrange a meeting. So it was that not even a sennight since she had last seen Jameson, Coatleque found herself back in Ul'dah staring at an old friend through iron bars. "You must think I am enjoying this." A snort. "I know better." She knelt down as they spoke to examine a speck of mortar where the bars reached stone. "I cannot deny a part of me is glad to see you face justice" "There's no justice in any o' this. Lazarov was right." Whatever banter could be traded did not suit either of them in this moment. The falling paladin, and the vigilante Flames officer. How much they had both changed over the past cycle. To be in this situation here and now. She stood slowly and turned to face him, gripping the bars tightly to either side. "You know he is alive." The man stood from his cot with a sigh and crossed the cell to meet her gaze only ilms away from her face. Chains of binding rattled across the stone with each step. "We get the papers in here." He grinned at her. Her voice lowered, her eyes hardened. "What are your intentions?" "Banurein." He whispered through the bars. Her expression darkened into a scowl. "Do as you will, but do not touch him." They withdrew from each other as Evangeline and Kanaria had rejoined them, linkpearl in hand. No further discourse was required. Coatleque plucked it from the woman's hand and made for the inn having been satisfied the Sergeant was no longer a threat to the man she loved. Grimsong met her that evening as had been planned. The Quicksand was alive with its usual bustle, and plenty of wine at the ready. The paladin was staring intently at a bottle resting at the middle of the table when Delial arrived, and looked to be fairly soused already. Few pleasantries passed between the women before business. "I spoke with Melkire. He said you and Lady Primrose took the pearl?" The paladin slowly withdrew the item from her purse. She displayed it for the other woman, tapped it once or twice upon the table, then flicked it towards her. It rolled lopsided across the wood to fall into Delial's waiting hand. The rest of the conversation that night was a blur for Coatleque. The combined stress of travel, loss, and wine left her babbling incoherently before long, and with the gracious assistance of Madam Grimsong reached her inn room. Sleep came in fitful spurts of a broken dream. The imagery of which gave her no comfort that night. As the sun rose over Thanalan and began to warm the sheets over her shivering frame, Coatleque still could only wonder at how things had gone so horribly wrong.

First, there was love. A savage, primal yearning to possess and be possessed that filled the heart and clouded the mind. Then there was pain. Confusion. An oily blackness that fell over the eyes and brought forth one last laugh of defiance. Pulling. Drifting. Flitting away. And finally... nothingness. [align=center]~[/align]

Got misty eyed just last night. As Crofte looks the man she loves square in the eyes and admits she was spying on him for months.

Some freehand stuff. Got a little lazy with the sword though.

You can also break down whatever you are doing into it's simplest form. A bat is just a glorified club. So use club instead. I'm pretty sure the club as a weapon is a fairly universal term in any setting. Nothing more than a long, blunt object to swing. I've used waltz in-game before (as another example given above), but you can even break this down if you want. The dance is set to a 3/4 time signature. If you watch the /balldance emote, that is also set to a 3/4 time (or at least 6/8), so we know such music exists. If you don't want to call it a waltz, just say it is a simple ballroom dance. I idea remains the same.

Some RP shots at the NPC (®) house, a House Fortemps (©™) estate. "Had you been there, you would be dead, my lord, and your name left to naught." "We will go back. But in time. Now is -not- the time." "My lord, you... you would help me?" "I gave you my word. And I do not break it. But I ask--nay, I require patience."

If I don't reply then I'm either AFK or in the middle of another RP Scene which means my chat window is limited to say, em, yell, and party. There have been instances where I've even replied once or twice, then forgot to check back for an answer.

"I value loyalty above all else." "Direct him to me. I may need to... place him somewhere beyond his father's reach." "Try not to let too many people who know your face see you as having been the last person to see this boy." "Seek young Algincourt at Scorpion's Crossing. They're smart enough to know his father is a danger to him now." [align=center]I[/align] It was mid-morning when Coatleque arrived at Scorpion's Crossing. She had come from the north as if from Horizon, electing not to stop in the city for personal reasons. Had she been seen and recognized back so soon from Ishgard already it would have raised suspicions, being so close to her previous visit. Along side her instructions not to be seen, this was the safest route for all involved. She wore no silvery armor today. No bright blue and white tabbard to signify her position. Merely drab brown and olive leather with steel boots and half-gloves. A large black robe concealed most everything else but her emerald eyes visible just below the lip. To anyone not paying attention she was nothing more than another traveler through the hot sands of Thanalan. Upon reaching the crossroads, for that is all the the Crossing was, she made for the watering hole to drink. Even at this hour and season the sun oppressed any who elevated walking above riding more than a malm. As the ladle lowered back to the barrel her eyes roamed over the merchants gathered at the center of the palisade. It did not take her long to single out one man in particular. Oswell stood off to the side a few fulms from the rest, gesturing to crates and barking orders to the rest. If anyone knew anything about who or what passed through daily it would be him. Coatleque waiting until he had a breath to respond before pulling him aside and depositing a small pouch in his hand. A generous tip for all his hard work, and all she needed was information on one name. Algincourt. He smiled her a wide, gap-toothed grin. "Oh, the boy. Yes, yes." "Yes, the boy. I've heard he comes through here on occasion. Perhaps you know when he is next scheduled? "Now he don't go by that there name, some reason. Goes by Dex. But yep, that's the one. He parked his buttocks here near a week ago, anyroad. Paid for some tent space to lay his head. Course, boys bein' boys, well, they don't sit near long. He's been makin' his way givn' chocobo ridin' lessons. He's usually out tow, maybe three times a day sometimes. Course he usually takes longer when it's a young lassie he's teachin' hehe!" Oswell winked, then winked, then winked once more a half-second later. While she found it odd that the lesser son of a Lord of Ul'dah would be dirtying his hands at the stables lik that, she voiced no concern over the matter. She was not here to judge, only to retrieve. Her hood remained low and hid any expression that may have given away such thoughts. "So he should be returning soon then?" "Boy's due back any moment. Park yer fanny and sit a spell, like as not he'll be back an' covered in dust per th' norm. Though, uh... if'n he asks, you don't got t' say it was me that gilled 'im out." A sly smile was visible then just under the lip of her hood. "Of course not. If you would be so kind to return the favor for the one who asked." She bowed low then and returned to the merchant's stalls to browse. It seemed she had some waiting to do. It was close to noon time when three other strangers arrived to the crossing. Coatleque had taken up a position away from the tables by then, leaning casually against a wooden post by the cargo platforms to observe the mundane business dealings of the merchant class. Her head turned almost imperceptibly at the sound of approaching footsteps and she quickly tried to mentally count the number of new arrivals. The sound of heavy boot-steps grew louder until there was one man standing directly in front of her. The rest had scattered around the square. The man leaned in close to her, reaching out to lift her cowl and see who may be hiding underneath. She slapped his hand away instantly and pressed herself backwards against the beam. "I beg your pardon!" "Aww, baby, nuffin." He turned to holler over his shoulder. "It's just a bitch!" She frowned and pulled her cowl low once more as the man walked off to question one of the merchants. "Algincourt. Yeah, red hair." The others began asking similarly to other merchants, passing from one to the next, kicking crates and disturbing business. Coatleque slowly moved across the yard then to where Oswell stood by the stables talking to one of the newcomers. "Perhaps we did not make our position clear. We are no threat to the boy. We come bearing good news." The man, tall and cloaked dropped another purse in Oswell's hand. At least twice the size of the one she had passed the man. Oswell shot her an apologetic look. "We just wanna talk. It's for 'is own good." "The boy is due to come into his inheritance. We are not here to wait. What direction, friend?" As they continued to press the man, Coatleque knew she was outnumbered here. All three men were armed, and probably armored. She moved slowly to the stables, feigning as much interest as she could to look harmless. An inspection of the nearest bird's barding was made. She pulled the straps to ensure they were tight, glanced to Imme with her own sorrowful expression and tensed. Her head turned to the side as she listened. "So, the route he normally takes?" "Could be dangerous out there for a boy, we'll meet 'im halfway just to be sure." Some gesturing was made. "West? Very good. You see? We are friends." It was all she needed to hear. Coatleque hoisted herself upon the bird and ripped the reins from the post they were tied to. Pulling them hard, she reeled the bird around and made straight for the gate. The Blades barely had time to react before she was through the palisade and riding hard towards the Bazaar. Stolen bird or not, she would deal with the consequences of her actions later.

We don't know what else they may be doing at the same time. Perhaps they have 50 windows updates pending at the same time. Perhaps they need to defrag drives or do other disk maintenance. Maybe they have UPS batteries to replace. There are any number of things that can go wrong with hardware that has near 100% up-time and consistent resource usage.

Not really an 'RP' confession but, I sometimes look at my friends list, see someone sitting in queue as dps, and queue up tank to see if it throws us together randomly. No luck so far

All the time.

It's standard MMO content. Get weapon, commit genocide of , collect 5 gold, repeat tomorrow.

Breaking the ice is always the hardest part. Some things that worked for me was to just stand around and listen to other people. Get an idea of who their characters are, a feel for how they roleplay. Also check out the town square forum to see people's stories here. Make note of character names you want to look for. Or others of like minds. Once you feel more comfortable with the RPers around you it will make introductions easier.

I think I'm in the opposite camp here. Or at least looking at it from a different perspective. I played the game before I started RPing in it, so my experience with Lalafell is that they are no different from other races, just shorter. Think of them more like halflings. When I come across a Lalafell who is not played as a serious character, that seems to be the exception to the rule. The examples I see in-game are of course Nanamo, but also Lolorito, Teledji, Papashan, Momodi, etc. All serious characters. These do no strike me as roles to be easily dismissed in RP. When you start to see how many are in positions of power around the game world it is easier to see them as equals.