Nero

Did you wave them like you just did not care? More like there was cold in the air.

shiva says put yo hands in the air

Shadow of Mordor is fun but I've played way too many Ubisoft games, so I can only handle it in brief stints of an hour or two at a time. Otherwise, SPESS MEHREENS.

Nero snorted as the silhouette of the Flame Sergeant eventually disappeared from the corner of his eye. His arms remained folded, and he did not turn to face the paladin whom he now addressed. "That was a thorough waste of time," the smuggler commented idly. "He expected me to prostrate myself before him, to insist that it was for the people's sake. What an incredibly dull and short-sighted man he is." The splashing of the sea against the pier almost drowned out Roen's response, so quiet was her voice. "He needed to believe...he needed to see that it would all be worth it." Another snort ejected itself from Nero's nostrils. It had been a week since they had last spoken, and the two of them had not parted on good terms. Nero had demanded that she show some results, and the Flame Sergeant's presence was the culmination of that effort. As for the smuggler, it had been a week of planning, a week of deals and compromises, a week of thoughts and contemplation. The blazing rage that Daegsatz' death instilled within the Hyur had cooled to smoldering coals. To surrender his plan to the whimsies of revenge was pointless. What was required now was cold, mechanical efficiency. "Why must you be....so cold. And arrogant," came the displeased voiced that muttered behind him. "What would you have done in my place, Roen?" he asked idly. He could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head. "You should have trusted me enough to know that I brought a good man to you. Someone who could have helped you. You should have trusted me enough to lower your guard for just a moment, to let him not stare at your back, but to look into your eyes. To not let him hear your cold rehearsed--" The smuggler tilted his head slightly, not enough to show the full extent of his expression but enough to glare at her from the corner of his eye. "The last time I trusted a good person to help me, my first mate was executed like a dog in Ul'dah's gaols." His tone was steely, and his grip tightened against his arms. "You will excuse me if my trust is in short supply at the moment," he practically spat the words. It had been a week, but it seemed that the smoldering coals still had enough heat to burn. He tilted his gaze forward again, showing the paladin naught but the back of his head. "I am cold and arrogant because the circumstances demand it of me. Because simple words of altruism are cheap. My opponents are ruthless, and I must be just as ruthless if I am to succeed." He could practically hear her stiffen behind him. "..I am sorry for his death," she said quietly, her tone gradually growing more pronounced. "I am. I do not know how to make this right!" When Nero did not deign to respond, she continued. "Is that it? Will you hate and distrust everyone from here henceforth? Is the world no longer worth considering at all? Is no one else worth your trust, or even a glimpse of the rest of the truth?" Venomous words boiled beneath Nero's veneer of placidity. No, he wanted to shout. The world is not worth considering. Everything I am doing is in an attempt to change it into a world that is. In that moment, it was as if the smuggler was viewing himself from a void in the outside. A realisation struck him like the blow of a hammer. Had his extremism grown so wild? Nero had just shut out what could have been a valuable asset. A ranking officer within the Immortal Flames. My plans.. He had been willing to go to such length for his plans, but now it seemed he was self-sabotaging. He had built a tall, thick wall of jade around himself, and it was only now that Nero could sense how badly that wall would sabotage his ambition. For was that not the reason why he fought? For his ambition? Was that not why Liam and Martin and Daegsatz died? For his ambition? If he did not carry out his plans to the fullest, if he did not succeed in every avenue, their deaths would have meant nothing. And that was unforgivable. He felt his legs grow weak. His arms dropped to his sides; his head turned to Roen briefly before he turned his gaze away, unable to maintain eye contact with her. "You..." Nero said quietly. "You are the only one...who has seen even a fraction of the truth." Despite everything, despite her indignation, her own arrogance, her anger at his killing, despite everything that threatened to keep them apart....Roen had stayed with him. She had resolved to see his plan through. In the wake of Daegsatz' death, though Nero would never admit it to himself, Roen had become his stabilising agent. "I know," she responded softly. He still could not bring himself to look at her. "And...I betrayed you. I did not free him. I wish for all that I could give, that I could change that." Nero turned to face her, at last, and gently gripped the sides of her arms. "The fault..." he murmured, his voice threatening to crack. "It is not yours. My mind...has been trying, endlessly, to convince my heart of that truth. You are not at fault, Roen Deneith." He shook his head. "You...you have never been at fault. You have only ever been at the mercy of that city...like me." Her eyes lowered as she shook her head slightly. "I should have. I should have..." Nero tilted her chin up to look at him. "I...do trust you. Even if I trust no one else...I trust you. But there is a time and a place for kind words and altruism...but that time is not now. Not while the city suffers." His gaze hardened slightly. "Your friend is concerned with the people. He is only concerned with the present, with the immediate loss of lives. He did not give an ounce of thought to the city's future. He did not think about what a new system can give them." The paladin blinked away what moisture rose to her eyes as Nero shook his head. "Lives will be lost. But this plan...it is not about the people who live now. The change I seek to enact is for the people who will inherit the city in the future. It is for the children who deserve to grow in a brighter world." Nero exhaled softly as he continued. "I would not convince Melkire with lies. Had I told him that I believed in the people, that would have been a falsehood, for I do not. I do, however, believe in the future, a better future, and I believe that the possibility of that future is worth more than the lives of people living today." The smuggler could not help but grin wryly at his own words. "Listen to me. A perfectly capable ally searched for the words that I speak to you now...yet, the only one I can say them to is you." He could not help but let out a small chuckle. "Perhaps I should lie more often."

This is the exact same conversation you both had in Mumble that one time... I don't remember that in the slightest.

on this week's episode of "Nero is totally not sexist at all" [4] Oh, I thought you were there. Nevermind. [4] YOU CEASE TO BE INTERESTING TO ME. [4] FINE [4] MEN [4] soon as they have your log they are GONE [4] I'm just saying, humanity would still be in the Garden of Eden if Eve wasn't such a clueless bint. [4] So don't "MEN" me [4] i'm hungry. roen make me dinner [4] i have no food in my house [4] Oh getting ALL stereotypical are we?? [4] also my shirt has a hole in it, can you mend it [4] I BARELY know how to sew a button [4] and I order out. [4] you barely register as a woman to me any more.

It was later that day that Daegsatz' funeral ceremony was held. It was a simple affair, without words or tears. There was no plea for remembrance or grieving speeches. It was simply a group of men mourning another lost brother. Nero and the crew had stood on a private dock, where a dinghy had been tied. In the center of the tiny vessel lay a well-cared for battle ax; it held some minor scratches, but it had been lovingly polished to a mirror shine, and the wooden handle gleamed with fresh varnish. In lieu of a body, the dinghy had been loaded with the Roegadyn's personal effects and various gifts ranging from mundane to splendidly luxurious. An ornate pen and ink pot with several sheets of high-quality vellum, a sextant, a jar of seashells, bottles of brandy, a basket of oranges, a set of large scale armor, gaudy jewelry, a gold-trimmed tricorne hat, and other items. The interior of the dinghy also gleamed with oil and dry hay. With naught a word and with a gust of the wind as his signal, Garalt lowered the small sail and untied the dinghy, shoving it towards the sea. The wind gradually caught in the sail and the current slowly pulled the vessel towards Llymlaen's embrace. The men standing on the end of the pier were silent as the dinghy pulled further and further away. Eventually, the tall Highlander picked up a longbow nocked an arrow, the head of which was wrapped in an oil-soaked rag. The slight tchk of a match strike was heard as the head of the arrow was ignited, and with a practised eye, Garalt let loose the missile. Several seconds later, an orange silhouette made itself known on the horizon as the dinghy ignited. One by one, the crew parted from the edge of the pier as the tiny blaze became smaller and smaller. There was the patting of shoulders and audible exhales as the men left, with only Garalt and Nero left. It was after a long silence that the smuggler spoke. "Do you believe I should have invited Miss Deneith?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as he stared at the horizon. The Highlander inhaled, folding his arms across his chest. "It would only be right for her to have been here," Garalt said gruffly. He kept his tone neutral, but Nero could hear the disapproval that edged itself onto the Highlander's gravelly voice. "She had been with him in his last days." Nero exhaled, his arms wrapped around his abdomen as he pursed his lips. "This...would not have been approved by her. She would have expected speeches, sobbing. Perhaps an award with his name." The Highlander responded by flashing a brief glare at him. "She is not nearly as foolish as you seem to think," was the curt response, as Garalt turned and left the pier. Nero knew that. Or did he? They had argued only earlier that day. His words had been sharp and venomous. He had demanded from her results, for truly in this world effort meant nothing if there was naught to show for it. Roen had, from the day they had made their alliance, insisted that there was another way. The wind blew at his back, causing his hair to ripple forward. The Hyur did not notice the weather, for he was too deep into his own thoughts. That stupid woman. Nero had thought of all of the other ways. None of them would work. The people were too fickle, too short-sighted, too dull and dim and ignorant. For their own good, they had to be herded like cattle in the right direction. It was like Vail said; the surest way to make people act how you want them to is to make them act in self-interest. The Monetarists held a firm grip on the city. The people who knew about the corruption didn't care and the people who cared about the corruption didn't know, or at least didn't know enough to make any sort of difference. Radical change required radical action. This was the only way. He loved you like a son. I cannot believe he would condone you killing families." This was the only way. And you are staining his death with more bloodshed," No. Daegsatz was dead, and what was left of him had been sent to Llymlaen. Ul'dah had killed him. Nero folded his arms, his hands clenching into fists. "Nero, I want to help you change Ul'dah, not stop you." The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. She was still intent on lecturing him, criticising him, perhaps even opposing him, all because she balked at the actions that were necessary. And there were others like her, others who would condemn his extremism, simply because they had never seen the Jewel for what it was. Rotten. Festering. This was the only way. The Monetarists had to be destroyed. Their greedy talons had to be severed. The people, though perhaps they themselves did not know it, were crying out for salvation. They needed to know that their lives were more than just the clink of gil. This was the only way. Images flashed to the surface of his consciousness. A screaming child as a noble's guards dragged him away from his destitute mother. A Brass Blade grinning as he slapped a spindly beggar away, breaking the man's jaw. The bandits hustling merchants in broad daylight before beating them within an inch of their life. The prostitutes hurrying to hide the orphans before their crime lords came to take their due. This was the only way. An Ala Mhigan man holding a child in his arms, sobbing outside of the city walls. The child was skeletal, his skin drawn taught across his bones like paper. The man was in no better condition, his rib cage showing clearly. The Blades kicked him away to the refugee camp. Nothing but the quiet, weakened wails could be heard. This was the only way. A haggard Roegadyn, trying to teach a Hyur teenager patience. The Hyur was tugging on the rod with too much force, such that the rod would break before the fish would be landed. A large, gentle hand clasped itself around the rod, thick arms skillfully waving the rod in a dance as he turned the reel, a subtle twinkle of joy when the Hyur finally managed to do the same, even if the bass was small in size. This was the only way. Nero turned and began to walk back to the ship, his footsteps heavy on the planks of the pier. This was the only way. The city would bend to his will or be destroyed. This was the only way.

Hm, to be honest I was expecting something a bit more along the style of Ramuh's theme, something very...well, cold sounding, with a detached feeling. I do generally like the sound of it, and the guitars are nice, though the fact that it sounds like a 90s anime opening (and Engrish to boot) makes it hard to take seriously when considering we're supposed to be fighting an elemental demigoddess. Titan and Garuda's theme had some real weight behind them and some dark tones that made those themes more appropriate for major boss encounters. That said, this is only a small piece of it, so maybe the full thing is better.

A day went by. And then another. The bells rang every hour on the hour, and yet the passage of time offered Nero no respite from his grief. Days that should have spent working, on furthering his plan, had been abandoned in favour of him collapsed in his bed, the door to his cabin locked. He refused water or food, bidding that his crew leave him be. Garalt, ever the crutch that he was, had been courteous enough to shoo away anyone who attempted to disturb him. The storm had lapsed the previous day but had returned in full force, the sound of lightning cracking open the sky with the boom of thunder resounding in the horizon. His thoughts were as turbulent as the weather. Every now and then he caught himself thinking of Daegsatz; a fond memory, an amusing anecdote, an embarrassing moment. Every time one of those grieved musings floated to the top of his consciousness, it felt as if his despair would tear him apart, and the more he tried to force his thoughts away, the more they came back to haunt him. Was it worth it? Nero wasn't foolish. He knew that a risk always existed that his plans could harm his crew; if he wasn't certain of it before, then the the deaths of Liam and Martin during the raid on the Silver Bazaar was absolute proof. Daegsatz, though...he had never expected to lose Daegsatz. The smuggler had taken it upon himself to keep his crew out of his plans. The Forte would be involved, but the crew themselves never took to Thanalan. They didn't know of his plans, of what he intended to do. And yet, that attempt to shield the men under his command...had gotten Daegsatz killed. Because the Roegadyn did not know anything useful for his captors. Why? Why was Daegsatz punished? No...no, Daegsatz' death was Nero being punished. Or was that his egotism speaking? He felt confused, lost, drowning in a whirlpool of turmoil that threatened to pull his head beneath black waters, to allow him no rest, no respite. For two days his mind cycled through these thoughts. A memory would bring itself to the fore, only to be suppressed by Nero's haphazard attempts to control his emotions. Grief, followed by guilt, followed by numbing amounts of self-pity...when suddenly, after what felt like years, his anger flared. No. The fault was not his. Daegsatz was just something else that Ul'dah had taken from him. The city was corrupt. Something had to change. Lethargically, Nero willed himself to raise his head. Then he managed to sit up. After a few minutes, he managed to stand, and by that point, his rage had quelled itself. It was no longer a blazing flame, but had frozen itself into frigid ice. That's right; Daegsatz died because he had been too slow. He'd been naive enough to allow Ul'dah's justice to murder his first mate. From this point forward, his plans would not be stopped. The city would bend to his will, or he would destroy it and bury the ashes. He'd spent far too much time as it was wallowing in his grief. Daegsatz was dead and gone, but fortunately, Nero had someone to blame. He had a clear enemy, and his resolve was unwavering, for if he gave up now, then Daegsatz' death would have meant nothing. Even so, Nero would not let his plans devolve into petty vengeance. This was far more than simple revenge. For Daegsatz' sake, he had to go through with the full entirety of his plan, now more than ever. A new, steely sense of purpose reinforced him as he pushed the doors to his cabin open. Garalt had been standing guard outside, resolutely. Nero's gaze softened slightly, as the Highlander was now the only true confidante that the smuggler had left. "I apologise for the trouble," Nero croaked. He had gone without food or water for two days, and it must have showed in his haggard conditions; he became acutely aware of his dried and parched throat, of his stomach loudly protesting the absence of sustenance. The smuggler leaned against the door frame. Garalt nodded. "I'll bring something up to you," he said gruffly, quickly striding away. Nero slowly sauntered over to his desk and collapsed in his chair. To anyone entering the room, he would have looked tired and lost, like he had given up. But that sentiment was far from the truth. His icy blue eyes bore holes into the wall. He would not be stopped, not now, not ever. Lightning split the sky and thunder roared. A storm was coming.

One day, Nero tried to learn how to use an axe.

Ishgard is more xenophobic than racist, and possibly pre-dates the 500-year divide between Wildwood and Duskwight. There's speculation that House Dzemael might be a Duskwight house. Other than that, nothing much more concrete. Jandelaine and his brother are also minor nobles, so judging from that it's possible for Duskwight to be nobility in Ishgard.

Creepiest, I think, comes in two flavours. The "What in the goddamn hell is going on" kind of creepy and the "I really do not want to look at it" kind of creepy. For the former category, the one that comes to mind is Greg Nightmare from Killer7. Some might call that cheating because the entire premise of Killer7 is "You have no clue what is happening", but still. Look at this. dWgDb6jMPx0 As for the latter category, The Mother from the Awakening expansion of Dragon Age Origins. The way her mouth kind of splits open is ACK GET AWAY THROW FIREBALLS AT IT KILL IT DEAD WAGGHH Funniest, probably The End from Metal Gear Solid 3. Few things can exceed the humour in defeating a boss by letting said boss die of old age. Most Epic definitely goes out to The Transcendent One in Planescape: Torment, for reasons that will not be named. Runner up for the traditional definition of "epic" is Big Varder from Phantasy Star Online 2. You and your party assault a massive tank/battleship, until the core turns into a giant mecha, all to the tune of a really satisfying boss theme. eNINIjBo6RU Weakest in recent memory is Colonel Autumn from Fallout 3. Christ, I could have brushed past him in a narrow corridor and he'd completely fall apart. The most hated fight for me is Turn 7 in Coil in this goddamn game. Let's see. Nearly every mechanic can cause an instant wipe? Check. No forgiveness for any individual mistakes? Check. RNG elements that can cause an instant wipe? Check. The worst part is that the difficulty is artificial; there's no real complexity to it, it's just the same relatively simple mechanics spammed every 20 or 30 seconds, and a single mistake means boom, you just killed the entire raid. And sure, the fight is easy in practise when you become familiar with the elements, but I feel that that doesn't detract from the fact that the whole fight is rather poorly designed.

Don't. She'll actually kill you. Hallowed gives me ten seconds to choke to death on it first. *envisions a sea of arrows flying at Warren*

Let's just make premades for them all. Clearly, a 4-rogue party will be balanced if we all cross class physick, and then one person gets protect, another gets stoneskin, and another gets blizzard2. And then Square Enix decides at the last second that Rogues are actually a dodge-based Tank class. Along with Ninja. FFXI HERE WE COME, WAHOO

I can tell that it's an authentic Squeenix preview when reading it leaves me with less info than what I started with. And oh boy, DPS queues will be fun!

I don't think Nero really compares to, say, Ul'dahn nobles in terms of affluence, but illegal activity is very lucrative and he isn't lacking in coin. The downside is that he has to maintain direct contact in his operations for them to go well (meaning not much IC free time) and that lawful elements can, with the right information, knock out his source of income at the knees.

Nero would be a steak. For breakfast. Because he doesn't play by anyone's rules. /sunglasses

I usually just scratch it onto the walls of my solitary confinement cell.

A wolf in sheep's clothing? More like a wolf in wolf's clothing with the phrase "I AM A WOLF" embroidered on it in golden letters.

In memoriam of Roen's forever-lost screenshot collection, here's a shot of Nero and Roen making kissy faces at each other right before Gharen walked up to them.

It has a few really niche applications. Notable is in Garuda when the Plumes spawn next to her; Tri-Disaster to keep them all still so the BLM can Flare all of them. Swiftcast > Tri-Disaster is also occasionally useful if the Renauds break free in T7 (which shouldn't happen, but preparing for emergencies and all that). In a general PvE context though, Sleep is better for AoE CC and it doesn't fit into a rotation. Shame because the animation looks so nice. It's useful in Frontlines, which is basically like saying it doesn't have much use at all.

Proof that Tri-Disaster is the best-looking useless spell in the game.

BE HEALED, MACHINE SPIRIT!

WHO WANTS TUMMYRUBS

Petrification is a funny thing.