Oscare

/quietly writes many pages of fanfiction about it

"Captain Iono," Oscare gruffs out, performing a Storm salute to his higher officer. The woman stares at the dark-toned highlander, making direct eye contact with the man's violet stone-cold gaze. Her own empty blue eyes trace his figure down to his boots, her ears perking and drooping. The miqo'te had a rapier in her hand, swinging vacantly at nothing. She walks around Oscare, studying his stiff body at every angle. She speaks nothing, nor does Oscare. "You've been active lately, Captain." She finally speaks, the top of her blade lying on Oscare's shoulder. The hunter didn't budge from his saluting position. "First you kill several innocent citizens, you went asking for somnus... and now you want an investigation team? What kind of hell did you dig yourself into? An eighth?" Her tone could stab through metal, but Oscare's will was stronger than any metal found on the planet. He doesn't even sweat at her speech. "But, regardless, it seems a promotion into Second Storm Commander is in motion as we speak. What the higher ups think of you and see -- I have nary an idea. But you've been with us a little after the Calamity happened. I'd say... five and a half years? At least your allegiance and loyalty is clear... at a glance." "Storm Marshal, ma'am, I don't have a clue. I'm doing this in the good name -- Jancis needs this -- I can't -- deny --" Oscare does seem to have trouble putting out his emotions. Well, not like he could anyway, since the Storm Marshal silenced him with a deft swing of her rapier. "Silence, I shall not hear anymore of this. I have been assigned to keep watch over you. You will refer to me as Storm Marshal 19. Do not confuse my words, Hunter, you WILL. Not may." She chuckles lightly, her tail wags to-and-fro. She still can't seem to pierce through the man's spirit. "I hope you put on a wonderful show for me during your promotion trial. It will reflect on my name, and your company's too... What do they call themselves? The Astral Agents?" He taps her temple in 'thought'. "How cute."

You know Oscare. He likes hunting. Especially primals.

that's the point get rek't, nerds

gg go home everyone

There have been mention of discontinuing FFXIV for the PS3 due to them saying that what they have planned is too 'hindering' due to PS3 standards. Speculation that PS3 players can still play FFXIV, they just won't be able to play past 3.0. Meaning that they'll be stuck playing on whenever 2.0 ends and back. Again, speculation is speculation. Regardless, sorry PS3 players.

[7] My b ird isnt c hanging colors. Time to shove dye bucket up it's throat [7] Please donate to the National Anti-Chocobo Abuse Foundation. One-in-two chocobos everyday suffer from unfair and unjust chocobo abuse, including being tied to aetherytes and slowly building aether-poisoning, force feeding to change the colors of their plumes, and being ridden on by two giant hulking masses of meat (roegadyns/highlanders). With just 1 gil, you might be the savior one of these chocobos. [7] Val ate his chocobo. [7] Would this organization come after him? [7] Kage loves his chocobo [7] ;_; [7] With a donation of 5 gil, you might even rescue a chocobo from being sent to EFC -- Eorzean Fried Chocobo. [7] But I own EFC! [7] this is going on the logs [7] I now have record that you're all anti-animal activists, BLACKMAIL

Now, when FFXIV will no longer be on the PS3. Imagine all the possibilities. Prepare thy pants

help i can't the thirst is too powerful there goes my pants

We both main BRD. He has the BRD shirt. Therefore, we cannot be shipped or else I will lose my sanity within the first ten minutes.

"I don't care, I told myself." The man's bare chest expands, pulsating back and forth in labor. Staring at the mirror, the hunter wipes a brow drenched in sweat, a stone cold violet gaze reflects back onto him. He runs a hand through his beard, unshaved for months and prickly, gathering and clustering more as every day passes on. No shoes, no shirt, no service. His foot scratches the other's ankle, a hand instinctively gropes a pectoral in a desperate attempt to relax himself, huffs as strong as hurricanes escape in rhythm of Oscare's breathing, a downpour of sweat rolling on down. He droops his head, shaking it -- all being reflected right back at him in the mirror. "I don't care... I don't... care... No, I don't, not at all." An eerie chuckle escapes him, nearly choking on his sweat and grasps for air. "They don't matter to me at all. Let them die in Thanalan, let those stupid Faces of Mercy strangle them with their own intestines... Swallow their tongues, leave them with holes in between their eyes. Spew their own blood out, hex them to have blood leak from every hole of their bodies..." The hunter finally looks back up at the mirror, seeing his own eyes crack with rusty red veins and pupils smaller than ants. The sweat slowly wears away his face paint, the burn marks they hide come to light. "Let them know their screams! The screams that fuel my very being...!" A bang. The hunter -- or better yet -- sociopath slams his fist down, shaking everything in the table. The mirror collapses on his head, shattering in pure terror from the dark-toned's man thundering strike. Sweat mixes in with blood now, and the breathing isn't as rapid anymore. Oscare scoots back from the broken mirror, slowly walking to the center of his room. His hands travel to the buckle of his belt, deft motions undoing the buckle and slips the belt off his waist. He coils the waist-piece in his hands, looking at the closest wall. Strolling on over, a sly smile takes shape, hands gripping ever so tightly on the plain brown leather belt. He lashes against it, incomprehensible mutters seethe out. "Don't care! Don't. Fucking. Care!"

All my ships are being sniped right under my nose.

David Boreananz is a perfect Oscare. Yes, I like Bones. Yes, I liked Buffy the Vampire Slave. I liked I'm With Lucy okay

Sorry, all I hear is another bard dungeon set. With a bard shirt that I will most likely not be having.

An unnecessarily long magical girl transformation sequence filled with friendship and rainbows while everyone else is shot and destroyed is in order, methinks. Example; sinjEsTa6do

Alex: a good summary of the summary of Oscare is... Alex: Marogathor: God dammit, Alex. Alex: did you really think I was going to spoil it?

One day, the Shirt of Divine Light dropped. Oscare Iono had a heart attack and died. Fin.

I remember reading an article somewhere in the Lore boards that whenever you die in an instance (not just Frontlines, but ANYTHING at all, even Turn 9 and all the primal battles) you don't actually 'die', per say. The lore is finicky on what it defines death as (a whole quest in the most recent storyline is dedicated to explaining Aether and Death). They explain that when you die in an instance, your aether... 'resets', for a lack of a better word. It's transported to the closest and safest location, where they can try to fight again. Death is when the aether can NOT be restored and the individual takes a fatal blow. This was their excuse to make sure that adventurer's don't just fall flat on their face and die because someone poked them with a stick that happened to do exactly enough 'HP' to kill them. Hydaelyn, yo. She's got ur bak bros (I shall try to find the source of this, so take this with a healthy grain of salt. I also concur that Frontlines is treated as more of a war game between the factions to measure dominance rather than a war to spill blood.)

I think the big point of the Relic weapons was meant more to be openly available to both casual AND hardcore players whenever they please. It's not only practical (except for the Novus stage... because the stats on that bow is painful to look at), but they can be attained whenever the player wants to. It's a mere alternative for the players who can't raid, and whenever getting the non-raid top tier weapon is inconvenient in the current patch. Right now, that isn't the case since Syrcus Tower literally spits Sands of Times, Oils, and UAT in your face. Tough love! But it won't always be this way, some patches it'll be hard for the casual players to get a good weapon outside of relic. Hence, the relic is there. It's also a good token to see how dedicated a player is! You know when you see a Nexus wielder, they fucking spent hours of days trying to get it from a babu relic to a big boy weapon. Again, people will do what they want. If you wanna spend millions upon millions, be your guest! The money is yours, no one can tell you what to do with it. Disclaimer: The word 'You' is a general term.

"Oh, how incredibly rude of me!" The midlander states. "My name is Rodgers, These two acquaintances of mine are Feder," Rodgers lifts an open palm towards his right, prompting the pale highlander to give a toothy grin and an energetic thumbs up. "... and this is Hoja." Rodgers switches the hand for the same gesture, the shorty highlander snapping his fingers and says nothing more. "We just overheard ya gals talkin' about the new Tarot place," Feder speaks up. "And thought that me and my bro over here Hoja could take ya there. Free of charge and everythin'." Feders' tone of voice exudes pure confidence. Hoja just shakes his head, but remains quiet. This prompts Rodgers to speak. "Don't mind Hoja," a pause. "He's not very talky. And, you two have been selected to be very lucky winners!" The pitch never ended, seeming to never get to the 'shipping and handling' part. "If you go to Tarot's place with these two fine highlanders, you'll be lined up to be front row spectator's of a very promising show this evening. So what do you say? Deal?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, in the Weaver's Guild... "Ugh." A familiar distasteful voice speaks up from a chair. Oscare holds his head up with a clenched chin, supported on by a bulky thigh. "Tell me again... why are we doing this?" The hunter inquires the thin air, seemingly. "Oh come on, Osc. It's not that bad." Another masculine voice rings from behind a large string of hanged clothes. "The Weaver's Guild wanted to get a bunch of guys to perform a little show in the public, it's no big deal. You go out there, you were one of these outfits -- which is possibly a once in a life time opportunity -- and you show those ladies and gentlemen what your body's packin'." A laugh is followed by the lengthy statement. The hunter sighs. "But I have to wear the Behemoth outfit? Why couldn't I wear another one? Like... I dunno, Feder gets to wear the Leviathan outfit..." A complaint? From Oscare? "You'll be the head dancer! Of course you gotta wear the Behemoth one! It makes your ass look scrumptious." Now the whole room is laughing, Oscare digs his face into a towel given to him while a lalafell youth takes measurements of his legs. This was going to be a very exciting evening.

The new dungeons. Sastasha Hard Mode. Have all my babies.

((I'm so glad I caught up! I love it \o/! It's a refreshing perspective.))

rVCATcShDMk Caution to those who are sensitive to flashing lights. But I love me my electronic.

I made a strange noise.

This entry is dated as The Eighteenth Sun of the Fifth Astral Moon. Oscare can be seen writing a letter among a dimly lit room. Dear sweet Jancis, I hope you are well. My sister Kanah loved the flowers you sent her, and she asked all kinds of questions about you. They've received your wonderful letters, and have always pounced of the subject of you whenever I visit. It's heartwarming, really. I never thought I could go into great detail of a woman in my life, it's strange. Kanah kept asking; "What's she like?! Do you know her favorite color?! What's her birthstone?! Her diety?! Are you a couple yet?! Can she actually tolerate your boasts?!", and when I asked her why she was so curious, she said she was so prepared to be an aunt. It's kind of disturbing. Grace also sent you her regards, my mom on the same inquiry boat as Kanah. But she was a little bit more passive about it. "When are you two getting married? Do I get to be a grandmother before I die...? Oh, that would put such a light in this poor woman's eyes..." I think I forgot to tell you that my mom is gravely sick. Grace's birth took a toll on her, tales spread that she was an ace marksman -- until he met my father. They moved to Vesper Bay to live in peace and had three little kids (mind you, we're not so 'little' anymore). It's a thing that runs in the family, I suppose. Except for Kanah, she's more of a book type person. I heard that lately, she was recently accepted as a summoner. She was just accepted as a scholar two years ago! She has quite the knack of studying and absorbing information like a sponge. Anyway, the subject of this letter is simple. I'm sorry for being so... eccentric the last couple of meets we had. I may have let my emotions get the better of me, with all these other things happening. Anyway, at your earliest convenience, I would pray you let me another chance to mend things properly. Much love and appreciation, Oscare The entry ends here on the note of Oscare folding up the sheet.