Zhavi

"Oh, no," she whirled on him. She was still walking, just backwards. "Don't ye start up wi' that crock o' scraps. Ye been dancin' a right fancy step since ye sat at me table, an' I'll not be havin' yer games, not after that." She pointed in the general direction of Scuttlebutt. Her voice had gone cold. "Ye want t'see me keelhauled? A'right, that's fair. But that ain't how ye see it done in this town, an' ye should be keen on that if ye've th'gall t'name me Dax. Y'lost yer chance t'play gadabout, an' yer a fool an' a dog twice over if ye think I'll roll over'n bare me throat t'the likes of ye." For a moment, she dug her rear heel in and took a step forward in his direction, eyes hard as she stared up at him. As quickly, she spun and moved away from him, taking a right turn at the T-shaped intersection at the end of the side street.

"In what --" Zhavi retracted her hand from the wall and stared up at Bellveil. Her mouth hung open, her eyebrows bunched in over her nose. She took a step back, and closed her mouth. Then opened it. Then closed it, swallowed, and looked away. She put her fists on her hips, lips pressed together, and stared off down the alley for several heartbeats. "Y'know," she said, quite conversationally, "ye'd be a crackin' partner if ye weren't so blimmin' mad." She looked back up at him, still glaring. "D'ye always leave yer partners in th'lurch, or is't jes me? Every. Single. Time. That weren't no distraction, that was a --" she shook her head, wonder overtaking the anger. "How ye've survived wi'such daft ideas, I can't even begin t'clue in on! But that ain't th'point -- now I've got a loss on record an' a 'ployer what'll be wantin' t'hear how things went. An' don't ye dare say th'fish weren't rotted enough fer ye to follow through! Yer arse is on this one same as mine. So tell me how y'plan - ta - fix - it." She was back to jabbing at his sternum

He entered the sidestreet behind Zhi, and she gave him a long, hard look. "Ye wanted me attention, ye got it. Along wi'half th'city." The last was a mutter. The next word was a bark of sound: curt, but devoid of any obvious emotion. "Talk." She turned to walk forward, presenting him with her back. It went against every ingrained instinct, but if he'd wanted to kill her himself there were numerous less complicated avenues he could have taken for that. Whatever it was he sought from her, whatever end, it was something that spelled plotting. Maybe she was just a happy coincidence, an opportunity that had lead towards squelching her without bringing the wrath of Agha down on his head. Or maybe it was a different enemy (though she doubted it, but within the realm of possibility), a different contact from a different life, back when -- She stopped that thought. Didn't care to think on it, didn't really matter. She'd a problem on her hands, and weren't no use playing at jacks. The only thing to do was move forward and deal with it. She was good at that.

I think my non rp character is on behemoth (it's either behemoth or leviathan, but I think behemoth), but it's only like around level 20. I could potentially work something out with you, but I have no idea what sort of rp you like, and my main focus for rp is going to be on balmung. But um, some options: Roll a level 1, get to the point where you can use airships, rp mostly in the cities. You can do a lot of rp with a character without getting it to 50, unless you specifically want to do rp in relation to endgame stuff. Forum rp. Watch for people who want to roll on another server for whatever reason (sometimes people would rather not wait for gilg or balmung to open up new character creation), and scoop them up.

Http://simple-whimsy.deviantart.com - also have a thread on here, zhavi's art stuff. I'm on my phone atm or I'd link it. DA site has one nsfw picture on it (lolboobies), fyi. There's a lot I need to improve on, but I like to think I learn something with each drawing!

What are you looking for? Outline, portrait, full body, full color, simple, complicated . . . or just anything an artist is willing to do? Female/male? (I'm not on gilgamesh, but if no one takes you up on it I could do a sketch thing -- I'm always hesitant to do commissions because sometimes the art urge is there and things are great and then it just abandons me and I hate even looking at my tablet...but just doing it as a form of practice is okidokes)

There were several points throughout Bellveil's words that Zhi opened her mouth, presumably to start up haranguing him again, but he gave her no quarter. It was during one of these -- the one where he'd plucked a bit of slime from her -- that she opened her mouth. The slime hit the side of her nose and slid down, hung precariously, and dribbled on in. She froze for a moment as her senses went about registering what had just happened -- smell, to taste, to the feel of fish slime entering her mouth -- and then she was spitting all over Bellveil's midsection. As if that wasn't enough, she hawked up a wad of something perhaps as disgusting, and spat that down between them. There was a high probability the bit of mucus landed on his left boot. "Speech!" She got out, one hand lashing out and landing on the wall beside his waist. It was an intimidating sort of gesture, the kind that only really worked well if you were a good three or more inches taller than the other person. But, well, you have to give her some points for putting in good effort. Chin up, as they say. "Yer quibblin' over how ruttin' rotten th'damn barrel was, an' y'have th'gall t'come snivelin' about yer speech?" Her voice climbed several octaves. "Ye daft? It was yer thrice-cursed speech what set th'clients t'riotin'! I sure as feck didn't upend the fish over me own head, did I? An' after I got th'ruttin' barrel off me head, where was me partner? Well?" She gestured with her free hand. Slime flew sideways with the movement to mix in with the other unnameable substances on the ground. It was possible that the question was rhetorical -- a common trap employed by many a fine woman -- but she glared up at Bellveil as if she expected an answer nonetheless.

Unless you're looking specifically to do forum stuff, did you have a server in mind? Either way, there are some events going on and linkshells/fcs doing recruitment that could probably give you some ideas and a head start -- also I believe there was a post or two in RP discussion with people looking for family/rp buddy stuff that might be what you're looking for. Take a gander through the threads in there! Also if you're interested in playing a criminal type in Limsa Lominsa. . . *coughcough* Jes you lemme know.

Just go for it on the wiki! Here are a bunch of people who have made templates: http://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/wiki/index.php?title=Category:Wiki_Templates . Log in to the wiki, search your character's name (preferably full name), and then hit the create button when it says no page match the search terms. (there's also a small faq on the home page in the wiki to help get started) Additionally you can post in the Balmung directory, though that's more of an ooc thing about how you rp than about your character.

I went with making my character's mom a whore who was the daughter of a miqo'te couple who weren't with a tribe (hence, she was named Zhavi and took the bastard name 'Gutterborn' which she later changed to 'Streetrunner' when she was a bit older and wanted to make herself sound a bit less. . .bastard). You know, like city folk who leave their families behind for a better life only for things to go horribly wrong! Think of it like any other conventional naming thing in the world. Many cultures have naming conventions, but you know, people wander and intermarry and decide to be rebels and buck against tradition when they have their kids. Then you have people who grow up and decide "my parents were high when they named me" and change their name. Or just change their name because why not. Go wild!

Alternatively, come up with a backstory that would suit that name.

"I think. . ." Zhi ground out against the desire to start kicking his shins until dawn (and maybe even past dawn), "ye said that last time. An' like last time, ye abandoned me t'the squall!" He was crazy. Madder'n a cockered, artless . . . artless . . . her repertoire of foul words failed her. No, there wasn't a word strong enough to capture the insanity that was Verad Bellveil. And she, starting to rise on tip-toes and cursing the differences in their height, had lifted one hand with forefinger extended. She was sweaty. Filthy. Smelly. Part of that was due to the fish slime that coated her top down, random scales and bits of fish skin sticking to hair, skin and clothing. Remarkable that she hadn't attracted more flies, really. "Do ye -- d'ye know what a barrel full o'rottin' fish smells like at th'end o'the day?" He should, since a small remnant of it clung to her. And thus, let us take a moment to appreciate the foulness of rotting fish warmed by the sun all day long. Now, let us imagine the smell magnified and borne by an individual whose sense of smell only intensifies when she breathes through her mouth. One who, we must presume, did not appreciate the smell of dead, rotting fish despite the similarities she shared with those of feline persuasion. Thus, we come upon her inability to modulate her voice to something below the volume of harpy shriek. "Do -- ye?" Her stiffened finger stabbed twice towards the lower end of his sternum in time with her words. Whilst in the main street, her smell had been mercifully dampened by the passing breeze and the freely circulating air. In the side street, however, whilst toe to toe with the elezen man, it would be quite more pronounced.

Ohooo, maybe I'll run into you two sometime!

That's so awesome that you two joined together. Though you're on Gilgamesh I wish lots of brilliant rp to the two of you! Also, welcome to the RPC.

Zhi pushed herself back up, awkwardness stretching her lips into a grimace. She clutched the notebook to her chest and avoided eye contact with Lalataru. "Yessir. I keeps ta this empty buildin' in Barnacles' Reach." Her mouth twisted. She mumbled, "Best not t'send yer 'tainer in nice garb, sir." Barnacles' Reach was a cluster of homes and businesses that belonged to the poor in Limsa Lominsa. They clung to the cliffside and spread quickly, giving it the name. A long time ago it had been a nice neighborhood, as such things could be reckoned in Limsa, but the situation had taken a turn for the worse after the Calamity.

My character is strictly Limsa based, so I can't help much there -- but if you want your character to have someone to hang with whenever he's in town and possibly get rolled into ongoing hijinks, hit me up! Do note that my character is a bit of a mean jerkface some of the time, and would probably try to take advantage of your character in the sense of conning him out of money. They could even be frenemies! Or something. I don't know. But if you have trouble finding someone to go adventuring with in the wild blue yonder, give me a ring. (I won't be in game much until a couple weeks from now but I'm a forum junkie so . . .yeah) Also, have you considered putting up a wiki of your character if you haven't already?

I'm going to drop some links on you, good sir or madam! (also, this is an area for IC -- or 'in character' -- posts. A moderator will likely move it to an OOC -- or 'out of character' -- section of the site). http://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/wiki/index.php?title=Miqo%27te http://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/showthread.php?tid=1770 As for getting started with rping, I highly recommend checking out wiki profiles of people here and pming the players to see if they'd be interested in rping, or going through the linkshell hall for any FCs or linkshells you might be interested in! If you need general advice on the setting in the game, the wiki is a great place to start for that too. Check out general guides, and if you still have questions come back and ask!

Liar. Liar. Liar. Zhi nearly choked when he named the price, loud enough to be heard all the way to the Gate and back. Was he stupid? Was he crazy? Maybe he was a gadabout, because he didn't even seem to be affected when eyes turned to them, when it became obvious that everyone in the rutting street would be listening to them now. Breathe. He didn't stop. He made it worse. Breathe. He was naming things. Places. A stake. Breathe. Yayabuko? Thirty thou? The best? Her? Her breath came out in a rush. She couldn't help it. She was laughing, as much from hysterics as to put off the dogs this rutting guttersnipe of a man had just unleashed. On him, on her, on who else the gods could only know. That sort of money was way above her. The best? Arrogant, cocky churl she might be, but she wasn't so stupid to go parading that around, and Yayabuko would put her in the sea himself before he ever let those words cross his lips, especially when that much gil was on the line. Not to mention -- He called her Dax. She stopped breathing. Everything stopped. There was a roaring sound in her ears. Her tail curled under, pressed to the bottom of the chair, and for a moment she was staring fear in the eyes. Oh. Nald'thal hadn't just tipped her scale, he'd broken the rotten thing. For a moment, as she stared at the man who knew her too well, she was back in Galine's room. She was seventeen, and she was learning how the world worked through the voice and the hands of one tiny, ruthless lalafell. She was never going back. Never. Not ever. It was that thought more than anything that snapped her out of it, though she didn't dare lift her hands from the table. She was shaking. Adrenaline pumped through her, mixing with the alcohol. Some of it was burned away, but she was still drunk. Even so, even then, she knew she had to move. Had a runner already slipped away? Galine would know in a matter of hours, that was a given. How about the Skites? Oh, aye, she'd paid her dues on time like she always did to work the territory that she worked, but she was not cleared for that much money. And doing business like that in someone else's territory without clearing it? True, it wasn't a lot for the gangs, but that wasn't the point. The point was that it was their territory, and anyone who cheated them had to be taught a lesson. A beating was the least she'd get. She had to get ahead of it now. Was he with Agha? Most likely. But it wasn't like one of them to get one of the other gangs to do their dirty work. The Skites were two zones outside of their territory, even. Zhi had been careful. She was always careful. Retribution, then? The gangs took their blood rites, their honor, seriously. Galine had settled it. Not for this man, clearly. She stood up. "Y'meant three thou, y'ruttin' dog. Yer high. I ain't doin' no job fer thirty thou." Oh, they'd not be put off by that. It was a stalling tactic. It wouldn't last for long, and she needed some time to feel this one out, to get out. In the meantime, she had to hope that none present knew the significance of that name: Dax. Hope? Hah. "Follow me, y'fool sot. I'll get ye sorted on th'matter o'business in lowtown." She stood, hooked her thumbs through her belt to stop her hands from shaking, and started walking out of Scuttlebutt. If he didn't follow, he didn't follow. She couldn't help that. But she had to get out now. If the man followed her, she'd duck into an alley half a block down from Scuttlebutt, and slow to see if he was comin' after her, but she wouldn't stop. She caught Faller's eye on the way out, and the two sized each other up as they passed. He lifted his drink to her. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were hard and flat. They were the eyes of a businessman tallying up the take. Affection never lasted long in Limsa Lominsa.

So, Thatcher had earned her reputation as a woman you didn't mess with. It made sense, Zhi supposed, that Clove had clung to her as tight as any louse. Though Thatcher's statement about where Zhi's pay was coming from surprised her enough for her eyebrows to wing upwards, Clove had merely bowed over the table in mute acceptance. Gods above, would he really just take it like that? "Yes, Mistress Thatcher," he murmured. He would. Appalling and gratifying to see a pretty man brought low with just a few words. She coughed, hiding the rising bubble of laughter with solemnity, and looked back at Thatcher. "Whoremasters're th'most exactin', an' they'll chase ye further'n a taxman should ye cheat 'em. That's what's said." Zhi dipped her head low in respect, though she didn't bow as Clove was wont to. When she lifted her head, she looked Thatcher in the eyes. "Yer warnin's been heard, and heeded. How often ye be wantin' a report? So long as I'm not needin' t'play parts, I can fill ye in daily, or not until the job's done. Makes no difference t'me. In any case, ye'll hear from me if there's any problems along th'way."

"Tch." Her upper lip curled as he sat proper and spoke. She was on the verge of saying something likely regrettable when one of the barmaids arrived, bringing another drink for the man and for Zhavi. The wench dipped into a half-curtsey for him before sweeping up the coin into her apron. Like any good worker, she was there and gone in the time it took to spit, without fuss. If only employers could be so circumspect. Zhi heaved a huge sigh, the finger picking at the scab on her arm digging into the flesh there: it was the main sign of her annoyance as she considered the man's words. "'Malready in th'shitter wi'Yayabuko. Wouldn't surprise me none if he saw t'hand me somethin' crooked none else was bitin' at. So let's cut th'pissin' contest an'talk plain, fancy?" The scab came off. Zhi flicked it sideways. "Y'came t'deal, but saw a chance t'pit yerself against me. That means y'want t'play games -- big man wi'yer big stones, up against a runner, hey? But see, churls what mix their business an' pleasure tend t'think they can take all sorts o'shit out on their hired men. So either y'know what yer doin' an' yer thinkin' t'roll me, or yer some gadabout lookin' fer a thrill in the city." Blood was welling in the space left behind from the scab. "I ain't a scrag what gets rolled, rutterkin. So, yeah, y'gonna play by street rules, don't be gawpin' at me when I play back." She bared her fangs in a brief, hard smile. "Fifty gil fer new clients, seventy in yer case. I contract per moonspan, y'set yer targets, I agree, when I meet 'em it's two hunnerd an' fifty. If I don't meet 'em, I don't get paid. If y'contract fer more'n one moonspan at once I'll take half up front, rest paid per moonspan like normal. If the job's dangerous, rates go up another hunnerd. 'Mcheaper'n most, an' I do rougher work'n most -- if Yayabuko gave ye me name, like as not 'cause it's summat rough. He ain't sweet on me, but that'll mean y'ain't got many options. An' I ain't gotten me reputation by gettin' played an' takin' it up th'bunghole, fancy?" She tapped her knuckle on the table, hard. "So tell me, we dealin'?"

"Call me Kink," she said, tail curving around her hip. The tip waved back and forth at Gaidal before dropping back behind her. It was morning. Zhavi hardly saw the need to reaffirm that sorry fact. "Ye want I should be spillin' me bag here, or ye wantin' it at less open a place?" She took a step closer and lowered her voice. "I'd be wantin' a place less open, meself."

In but a moment Zhi had bent over her legs, prostrating herself before Lalataru. "I'll do anythin', sir, anythin'!" The position Joz was in was one constructed out of a lack of choices. Lalataru had taken her on, but he could dump her at any time, for any reason. Whatever he said went, and it was obvious the girl had already recognized and accepted that. For Zhi, it was a potential roadblock, but one that wasn't entirely unexpected. "Jes' ye tell me what's needed, Master Lalataru, an' I'll see it done."

The setting sun and a small number of rubberneckers were witness to Zhi's near total meltdown. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out as she stared up at the much taller elezen. Oh, sounds aplenty were to be had; the bluster and fuss she'd put up had, at times, been heard for a square block. Those who frequented the lowtown weren't put off by it. After all, screaming matches and even dying cries weren't altogether infrequent. But, entertainment was entertainment, and those who didn't have much better to do had stopped to stare. Zhi lifted her hands to either side of her face, expression contorted into something that went beyond and between frustration and consternation. Oh yeah, if it was possible for a woman to explode out of emotional overload, she would have exploded. "Yeah?" She finally got out, the word twice as loud as was strictly necessary. It echoed off the surrounding buildings. "That's how ye wanna -- ya --" A strangled sound ended the sentence, and her hands punctuated it with a useless shake. Her fingers had curled inwards, almost as if she just wanted to close them around Verad's throat. If only she could reach. What was in range was the man's belt. She took hold of it, turned away from him, and started marching towards the nearest sidestreet. Considering he outweighed her by a considerable amount, it was obvious to all witnesses that he was allowing her to drag him off, cart in tow. Oh, there'd be talk tomorrow, passed around and forgotten as soon as the next juicy tidbit came into hearing. But for now, the various passersby went back to whatever it was they did at that hour of the night, leaving Verad as sole witness to Zhi's . . .tantrum, if you wanted a nice(ish) way of putting it. Once in the smaller street, thankfully bereft of gawkers, she attempted to push him up against the stone of a building. "We had a deal," she informed him, again, her voice lowering into a hiss that was probably meant to sound threatening. It didn't.

Thank you very much, guys! slow and steady, slow and steady There is a ton of delicious artwork on this site, for sure.

Zhi hunched her shoulders. "Beggin'." Her voice was nearly inaudible. "Scroungin' in inn middens. Couple hours' worth o'odd jobs at th'docks, when they've work." She shrugged, seeming to focus hard on the page before her.