Zhavi

His breathing changed. Moonlight pooled into the room as Zhi opened her eyes, pushing herself halfway up from the bed. Her heart beat in her throat. She was sweaty, the nervous, acrid kind of sweaty that always followed her when she couldn't make up her mind. When she couldn't make up her mind, she acted. The floor was cold under her feet. She slipped forward, silent, testing each step before she moved. He was paces in front of her. He was different, asleep. Everyone was; it was an epitome of vulnerability. Long, deep, slow breaths. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the book, her heart nearly breaking free from her chest as they smoothed over the cover. Her fingers closed around an edge, her other hand gently pressing against his hand as she slowly started to slide it from his grip. Suddenly, she was calm. Steady. Alive.

"Oho, are ye a kind soul out t'save riffraff an' scoundrels?" Best she didn't get involved, was it? Zhi ran her tongue over her teeth, probed one of her canines. They'd see about that.

Zhi cocked an eyebrow. "No? Then mebbe I've been listenin' t'the wrong waggin' tongues. Me own mistake; I'll jes have t'find one what does." Or, find the woman again later, perhaps, if she didn't take the bait. Zhi couldn't afford getting caught, and she couldn't afford staying near red-and-yellow central any longer than necessary. She winked at Goultard, and turned to leave.

Zhi shrugged. "People like t'talk." She looked past Goultard in short glances, keeping tabs on the crowd. In particular, who was in the crowd. It was discreetly done, though she didn't take any pains to keep it from the elezen. "'Specially when there's trouble afoot. Ye like trouble?"

Zhi wanted to be seen. She was by no means a threatening figure; she was scrawny, and looked the part of a guttersnipe, all dirty and ragged. She was underslept, as usual, and it showed. She took the opportunity Goultard gave her without questioning it, ambling up alongside the woman as if she hadn't a care in the world. Zhi stank, as usual, the depth of that stink mitigated only by the overpowering odor of saltwater and fish; she'd spent a fair amount of time with fishermen, given that smell. "Hear ye like gossip," Zhi said, some small edge creeping into her voice. The Aftcastle was home to the Maelstrom's HQ, and she was not particularly keen to stay anywhere near there for long.

Her nerve broke. "Jes, eh, I'll jes. . ." she shut up and walked to the bed, gingerly climbing up on it. She was much less sore, but the sudden change in pain levels hadn't fully registered yet. She would outlast him to sleep, and then they would see just how sound a sleeper Lolotaru Lalataru was.

I'll gladly toss some monies into that plate! Thanks for all your hard work. <3

Since Zhavi had returned to the more obvious streets of Limsa, this was the first time in several days she'd been out and about during the day. Two bad leads had convinced her to commit herself to the daytrippers' world, sunburn and heatstroke be damned. Digging out informants was a tricky business. While some kept regular hours and regular reputations, plenty more skulked around the outskirts doing what they pleased and talking only to those they deemed approach; Zhi's problem was that the regulars didn't want to be seen speaking to her. She was barred, and had to rely on rumors and gossip to find those who could tickle her ear with something a little more substantial than old cobwebs. Or tales from last night's drinking. She'd stumbled across her fair share of those. It was on lowtown's Beggar's Walk -- an old boardwalk connecting two old and decrepit docks -- that she first heard a few scraps about a duskwight woman with some peculiar habits. She dismissed it at first, until she heard it again from an old gossip of a fishwife near South Walk Dock. Third time was the charm, this time from a man selling collected baubles spat up from the sea; notorious for some outrageous falsehoods, the man had been right enough times for Zhi to not discount him. Walking back east, she crossed a few bridges to spires more central to the city, not optimistic at her chances of finding the woman where it was said she tended to roam. A few bells passed, by which time Zhi was sweating and likely more than a little sunburned, complete with bad attitude, when she passed an alley that opened up into a wider street, and caught sight of a duskwight woman matching the description she'd been given. It was a longshot, but a better lead than her thus far fruitless wandering. Zhi followed the elezen, hands shoved in her pockets and a scowl on her face.

The sky blazed red, casting Limsa Lominsa in a bloody haze. This was all well and good, really, for the man who pulled his sword free from a dying man. The dying man crumpled, gasping his last breaths. If he had last words to speak, they were lost to the three who stood over him; he had been dismissed. One final cruelty, one final blow to his dignity. That was how it was in Limsa Lominsa. A delicate lalafel woman watched, arms primly folded: she stood well back from where the blood might touch her fine clothes. "See to it," she said, her voice curt and frosty, "that this doesn't happen again." "Milady," another woman said. This one was tall and slender for a roegadyn. Her clothing proclaimed her a sailor of some sort, but her hands lacked the right callouses. The swordsman wiped his sword off on the dying man, then put his boot to the man -- now little more than a corpse -- and pushed him over the edge of the boardwalk they stood upon. There was a splash. The lalafel woman made a face. "Of course not, Milady," the swordsman said. She glared at the two of them, the roegadyn and the swordsman. "It had better not. I have enough filth getting under my fingernails without this tripe to add to it. Lark, with me. You will root out the rest of that one's little den. I expect a report tomorrow morning. "Now come along, I tire of this farce." The latter was spoken to the woman, Lark, who smirked at the man. She and her mistress walked away, leaving the swordsman to sheathe his sword and stare down at the water. He spat down at the corpse before he, too, turned to leave. __________________ Three days later "Me nephew." Zhi paused, tail going rigid behind her in surprise, as she looked up from the crate of rags she was digging through. "Scales, Keto'to, ye creep 'round worse'n a nightbird." She straightened, eyebrows pulling close together as she looked over at the old miqo'te. Every time she saw him, there was a small part of her that felt surprise that he was still alive; such was his advanced age, at least in appearance. Yet, he was as much a fixture of lowtown in Limsa Lominsa as the buildings themselves. Though he only operated at night (Keeper born, was he, and he claimed old age had made him too sensitive to the light of the sun to tolerate it), he was as respected as anyone could be in the city. Few were those who thought to mess with him, and those were always sure to find out just how many championed the old man. "Me nephew 'ain't come back." Zhi eyed him, curious, and let her expression twist to annoyance. "So?" "Ye've needuva job, dovey." Zhi's expression fell into something more dour at the words. Rumors flew faster than seabirds in Limsa, and her own fall from what little grace she'd commanded was a constant thorn in her side. Damnable jacks. "So?" "I'll back ye." He was serious, his rheumy eyes intent upon her. Keto'to rarely intervened in any circumstance, preferring to keep to his ragpicker's stall and his neutrality. All the same, his word carried weight among those Zhi trucked with. Weight that she desperately needed -- Flit's own aid nonwithstanding. Her ears pricked forward. "Yeah? Fer what?" "Find me lad." "Why me?" Keto'to hesitated, his own ears flicking sideways. His tail lashed behind him, and his mouth pulled down. "He was nosin' 'round wi' the Oaths. Few're willin' t' --" "Th' Oaths? What d'ye take me fer, a gadabout? Ain't no way I --" "Five hunnerd." The words stopped Zhi cold, mouth open and ears back. She closed her mouth, then swore, then tipped her head back with a groan. She folded her arms, her mouth working, not liking the implications and disliking her own greed even less. She needed the money. She needed someone to bolster her sputtering reputation. She needed work. "Up front," she snapped. He dug around in his trousers and came up with a small pouch. Sonuvabitch, he'd waited for her. "There's some what're new t'the city what might fill in yer own gaps." She'd been out of the thick of things for awhile. He knew she'd be unable to be efficient on her own. It rankled. "Yeah, I'll find 'em." She snatched the pouch from him, stuffed it down her shirt, and turned away. Her need of new clothes forgotten, she'd started walking when he called after her. "Zhio." She looked back. "If. . .if it's his body ye find. . .don't -- bring me back th'name o' them what took him from me afore y'tell me. Hear me?" With a sinking feeling in her gut, Zhi nodded and went to go search the dives and hangouts where lowlifes collected. She needed information.

Heh, why not? I'll bite. Lust vs Chastity 2 Zhi just about always wants what she can't or shouldn't have. This is more general and less sexually. Gluttony vs Temperance 3 As a drug addict and alcoholic . . . wellll. Zhi appreciates the material things in life, and she indulges in them as often as she can. The only reason it is not a 1 is because she does exercise temperance when it comes to jobs. Mostly. Greed vs Charity 1 Yeah, Zhi is about as selfish as you can get while still needing to occasionally rely on other people. Sloth vs Diligence 8 Zhi is diligent in all the wrong ways, namely looking out for number one: herself. Wrath vs Patience 5 Zhi gets irritated pretty frequently, but she's not what I would consider an angry person. Surprisingly. Bad shit happens, she gets over it. Pausing to throw a temper tantrum is what usually gets her into trouble in the first place. Envy vs Kindness 1 While I wouldn't say that she is necessarily covets things super strongly, she is even less kind. She's negative kind. So I took the one to put her further away from kindness. Overall, I'd say she's not really either, though. The things she wants she wants not because others have them, but because she wants them for herself. People are just means to an end. She scorns them, but it's rare indeed when she's envious of someone. Pride vs Humility 2 The only reason she's not a 1 is because Zhi does acknowledge and understand that there are many who are better than she are. To not understand this would be to die on the streets. However, in contrast she has about zero humility in her in most things -- though I will say she doesn't tend to experience despair. When she does freak out, it's usually only very momentarily; she's quick to start looking for solutions rather than wallow in a problem. Does your character lean more towards the Sins or the Virtues? Sins. Definitely sins. Which Sin does your character most emulate? Greed. Zhi is a selfish little doo-doo head. Which Virtue does your character most emulate? Diligence. Say what you will about Zhi, she works hard. Not for any good reasons, but still! Which of these Sins or Virtues do you and/or your character believe they need to work on the most? Zhi doesn't really do the self help thing; she's not likely to realize she has any problems. From my perspective? She needs to work on everything. Seriously, she's a train wreck.

The edges of panic nibbled at her nerves. Would she have to make her move that night, when he slept? Dare she? Who knew, she might never have the opportunity to be in his room again, and if she missed that chance . . .the book would be lost to her. And she? It wasn't worth thinking about. She had to focus. Her stomach growled as the smell of the food -- good food -- hit her. Jager's asshattery had left her half starved while she waited for the right time to appear before Lalataru, the result of which that the hunger that filled her face as she looked down at the bowl was all-too-real. She attacked it, with less care for manners than was even typical for her. Even nervous, even with stress sitting like a lead ball deep in her gut, she couldn't stop eating. It tasted so good. She ate too much. Discomfort forced her to slow down, and then stop; she'd gotten through a good portion of the food, but there was still some on the plate. Her instincts encouraged her to pocket what was left of the bread, and she stopped herself just shy of picking it up. Hands left to dangle at her sides, she looked back to Lalataru, internally calculating his exhaustion. She didn't even know if he was a light sleeper; if she had to make her move tonight she wouldn't have a chance to try that option. She bit her lip. "Where'm I sleepin', Master Lolotaru?"

No different then using any other gear, to me. Certainly less controversial then the Big Bad Special Weapons that have rare properties or whatever that only a Chosen One would have. As long as we're game to rp, whatever goes. The clothing pretty much doesn't matter to me compared to the character itself.

people push boundaries with me. Kekeke (18:14:35) Wulf: Uh Kat (18:14:41) Saruna: sup (18:14:42) Wulf: this is most likely going to get really bad. (18:14:54) Saruna: I'm cool with it (18:15:17) Saruna: SAFE WORD IS 'GLOSS OVER IT' (18:15:32) Wulf: lol (19:55:26) Wulf: okay Kat, I probably won't reply til tomorrow cause uh (19:55:38) Wulf: It's going to be really bad on this reply and all that and I have to prepare. (19:58:11) Wulf: yea. I don't know how vague I'm going to go with this because he's going to do bad things to her? (19:59:37) Saruna: you're not going to make me uncomfortable (19:59:45) Saruna: so write within your comfort zone (19:59:55) Farius_Masello: nonono you're not going to make Kat uncomfortable

Things had changed in Limsa Lominsa. The presence of the jacks and the reds had thickened, putting just about everyone on edge. The more someone had to lose, well. . . Two had flat out refused her. She'd ignored Flit's reaction, had taken no humor from his black attitude at her expense. She'd enough of her own, and plenty inclination to attempt to blacken his eye in quick retribution -- problem was, she was fairly certain that even if she managed to catch him out he might be able to outmuscle her. Might? Sometimes she was irritated by her own lack of skills, and her light frame. Nothing to be done about it. She'd pulled them into the lee of a building, shoulders hunched against the night as she toyed with the chain that disappeared into her shirt. "This ain't gonna work." She was stating the obvious as she thought about it, eyes unfocused on a point beyond Flit. Her lips pursed, then her eyes snapped down to him. "Right. What contacts ye got? How well're ye known 'round th'city, now?"

I never rped with you, but I remember you! That counts, right? Welcome back.

come to limsaaaa toooooo ;_;

Yuuuup. I throw NPCs around like confetti, so I suppose it's only natural that eventually a few of them wind up becoming full fledged characters. One of the prime ones I'm thinking of rolling into a full character now is on another site, a sister to my actual character. They're my bullshit-nobility-political-player characters. My primary rp partner in that is making one of his NPCs a full character in order to advance some plot threads left open in a prior thread (huge sprawling family, spies, sabotage, and a major estate distant relatives are fighting over). He's better at it then me, his character is older and with more connections, my NPC inherited the title from his but lacks a lot of the practical application. The thought of seeing the two characters at each other's throats, using their servants and family members to hit each other with setbacks and make precise economic stabs at each other makes me giddy. (just need to get back into the swing of things, first >>) Part of one of his posts that made me first start considering taking on my npc full time (plus all of the underhanded insults and snark makes me ridiculously happy):

I didn't play 2, so I'm not sure what happened with that game (though I do know the modding community seemed just as robust as Origins) -- but with Origins they released a dev toolset that you could use to muck about with all sorts of fun things. Some people even made cutscenes, and one woman made a whole new companion that was voiced and everything. Was pretty freaking spiffy. GET SOME.

Some do, some don't. I was and am too lazy to finish filling out Zhi's history; I write little mini stories instead when I'm not feeling as lazy (Town Square is where you can put a journal or story if you want to share it). I haven't had anyone use anything in any major way; usually when people use stuff from Zhi's past it's because we've discussed our characters having known each other or run into each other in the past. I've yet to run into anyone who used anything to power game against me -- so pretty much just do what you feel is right for your character. WELCOOOMMEEEE. The community is pretty friendly, so jump on in and don't be afraid to ask questions if ever you run into conundrums or need more rp partners.

Just wait a little bit for mods to come out, and maybe the devs will be kind and release a toolset. Then you can make them look like whateeeeeeever you want. >> << >: )

For some, the value of such an experience is none at all. For others, however, it's how they choose to push themselves in their free time, and how they have fun. There will always be a trade-off, no matter what any game does in regards to difficulty. Players who relax by seeing the content won't appreciate it when they feel like there is a barrier to entry they can't surmount. Players who relax by having to push and struggle and put in hours of efforts in order to overcome a barrier to entry won't appreciate it when they feel like their effort is being dismissed or things aren't hard enough for them. The ideal for developers is to find a balance between the two groups -- but there will always be people who want a specific, tailored experience, and if they can't get it in one place they'll look elsewhere.

For the love of the gods -- Zhi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yer th'roughest thing what's been seen since. . ." she circled her finger in the air "whatever primals'r destroyin' things nowadays." Withdrawals? Her? Never. She waved his concerns away. "Ferget it." Annoyed? Her? Never. But his last question she did pay attention to, offered him a cheeky grin for his interest. She rubbed her hands together, and then clasped them up under her chin. "Hmm. Contacts first, me laddy-buck. Then jobs. Then. . ." her smile became just a hair toothier. She winked. Schemes? Her? Always.

Don't listen to the crook. We're full, get out. (I'm one of the resident grumps. Welcome aboard.) !! HOW RUDE. I AM SHOCKED AND DISMAYED, SIR. shocked and dismayed.

Look at that fluffy pink hair! *ruffles* Welcome to Balmung, don't be shy. The community is pretty damn friendly, and there's pretty much a niche for everyone.

Ehehe, it was a bit tongue in cheek. There will always be a big rift between those that want the difficulty and there to be a big barrier to entry, and those who just want to experience what is available.