Banquo Viaquo

V7Vp7JcBAHw

Signing up Gideon North for this. It's just traditional to have a butler present at this sort of thing.

Won't be at a FFXIVable computer on the day of Dress To Impress, but interested in indirect participation, potentially to set up getting in on one of these in the future. Would it be all right to offer some IC correspondence containing some (supposedly) philanthropic funding for the efforts in question?

XJKHJyqmDwE

2lmdRjPjDn0

I'm INFJ - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging; marked elsewhere as The Protector. Gideon North is ISTJ - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging, marked elsewhere as The Duty Fulfiller. Banquo is ENFJ - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging; marked elsewhere as The Giver. On some level I feel like I should know this is about as reliable as horoscopery, but I like these things nonetheless.

"Do you think there's anything in it?" "Boss, I can tell you there's a LOT in it, but don't ask me what specifically." "I meant prospects, Fields." The Roegadyn sighs, swiveling his chair slightly--head tilted and ear scrunched against his shoulder as he tries to keep the linkpearl from falling out. Must not have set it right. Banquo squints at the saucy image through gold-tinged glasses, trying in vain to appraise the financial value of Miqo'te abdominals. "Do you think it's worth investing in, is what I mean." "I wouldn't know, boss, wouldn't know myself. All I'm sayin' is that I'm seein' more of the flyers than I am the bottles. Here at the Crossing, leastways." He takes a long gulp of Vitality, still keeping a suspicious eye on the advertisement. "...Drumming up any sales?" "Not sure, boss." There's a crackle on the other end of the line. Banquo winced at Fields' distant barking. "Hey... Hey, Gunt! Gunt! GUNTRAM! WOULD YOU DRINK SOMETHIN' CALLED 'BRON-CO GREASE'?" A long pause. Banquo drains the last of the Vitality potion. "Hah! Twelve, alright, I didn't need the fickin' visual aid..." Banquo can hear the Miqo'te grinning as he returns to the call. "Lemme ask you this, boss. Would YOU drink it?" He carefully folds the flyer, slipping it delicately into a folder. "I think I'll stick to homebrewed."

“Kweh.” “I would have imagined, sir, that you would be quite pleased to be home.” “Kweeeeeh!” “Home in a figurative sense, then. The land of your origin, assuming the reports of your pedigree are true. Towering rock formations, sweeping vistas of pristine white. Surely it must inspire some manner of awe, or at least respect. Subdued, muted respect.” “Fweeeeeew.” “Oh, now! There’s really no call to be carrying on like that, Chesterfield. We have a duty to perform, and for once, one specially requested of us. We mustn’t fuss so.” North sighed, patting the talkative chocobo’s neck with equal parts admonishment and reassurance. The old boy didn’t seem terribly bothered by the cold, but the snow itself seemed to baffle the bird, piling up on his beak until it was shaken off by twists and sneezes. Still, chatting with the chocobo seemed to improve its disposition, if only slightly. He had read somewhere, years ago, that you could say whatever you pleased to animals, so long as you kept your tone soothing and consistent. He had found the principle also largely applicable to certain members of the upper class. As a fellow beast of burden, however, Chesterfield made a fine traveling companion, and North accorded him the respect he was due. Despite his apparent misgivings, the stocky bird plodded northwards. Sitting astride him, North looked startlingly underdressed compared to the locals, still in his Ul’dahn formalwear--if anything, Chesterfield was more equipped for the climate than he, draped in both bundled packages of clothing and insulated “barding” that looked suspiciously custom-tailored. Fallgourd, thankfully, was well-equipped to serve as the border settlement it was--some last-minute purchases swayed lazily under the bird’s saddle, the hempen bags flecked with snow. However, the Shroud was long behind them, and the Observatorium loomed in the white sky ahead. He had not been this way in quite some time. Absently patting the chocobo’s neck, his eyes lingered on the tower--imagining the excitable Roegadyn, Five Reflections, ready to come bursting out of it, eyes aflame and spirit burning with academic furor as he’d triumphantly proclaim… that a voidsent finger bone had proved instead to be a toe, or perhaps that he’d finally uncovered the etymological origin of “malboro”, or a new theory that all sheep did not truly exist and were instead aetheric illusions. Five was an especially productive scholar in that he consistently, valiantly, and tirelessly sought answers to questions that nobody was particularly interested in in the first place. However, he had long since vanished from Coerthas--evaporated into the snow with his notes and his effects following the matter of Jameson Taeros. North could hardly blame him for fleeing at the signs of trouble on the horizon--had the Roegadyn still been in contact with him then, the valet would have severed all contact for the man’s own good, as he attempted to do with Roen Deneith and Mistress Callae. Still, he could not help but wonder at the scholar’s well-being. Five was eccentric, but had been a friend nonetheless, and one even willing to help North research the possibility of violating the natural laws of aether, as had Roen--however cautiously and reluctantly… A whistle from Chesterfield snapped him from his reverie, and he hastily gave his companion a scratch behind the crest as they trudged onward. The gate to the Observatorium was just ahead. It would not do to keep the lady waiting any longer than she already had… but it would be quite a shame if he were to come all this way, and neglect to tie up the loose ends that still remained. The stones of Camp Dragonhead were just visible on the snowy boundary, but his mistress would doubtless be asleep at the moment. His eyes lingered on the tower. There were preparations that needed to be made first… ...that would, it seemed, have to wait. Chesterfield stopped, tweeting cautiously and shuffling in place, as a loud crack echoed through the mountains. “Easy, sir.” A white pup loped swiftly through the snow nearby, spooked by the sudden split in the wintry silence. He raised his eyes to Camp Dragonhead, squinting through the snow and darkness. Too loud for a simple accident, and too clear above the roar of wind… He learned forward, murmuring. “Haste, Chesterfield, if you please.” He had heard that, by means of ancient magic or tricks of Garlean technology, the word itself might under other circumstances invoke a sudden surge of actual, raw, physical speed. He had no such resources at his disposal, but Chesterfield raced forward all the same, snow crackling under the bird’s talons on the road to Camp Dragonhead. By the time he reached the grand archway, it was clear that the majority of the chaos was over, but the sight that greeted him provided more questions than it did answers. He tightened his grip on the reins, slowing Chesterfield as he surveyed the camp with eyebrow raised. Weary soldiers, dragging aevis corpses by the tails down from the battlements--Gideon hid the briefest of winces as one was tugged down the stairs, its battered chin thudding on step after step. An ambush, perhaps, or a guardsman’s patrol gone awry; either way, despite the number of carcasses being toted down from the heights, he spied no civilized casualties. Whatever measures they had taken had been ruthlessly effective, though he had to wonder at the sight of the dragonkiller being carefully calibrated, turned inward to face the bare ramparts. What circumstances could demand firing such an instrument on the camp itself? The camp was still fairly quiet. With no medics on the scene, and no sign of concern or panic from the triumphant sentries, it had likely been quite a contained incident. The mistress either had stayed removed from the fray, or missed the event entirely--which, the valet concluded, meant that this whole affair was not his business unless otherwise specified. He took one last glance out of the southern archway, the tower of academics barely visible through the sloping fog and the darkness. Personal affairs, as always, would and must come second to duties. He quietly showed Chesterfield to the camp’s chocobokeep, and made his way inside--with neither intent nor need to sleep, he set to work. -- As light filtered down through the windows of Edda's room, the sounds of clinking silver and the gentle bubbling of poured tea made for a strange departure from the usual morning sounds. It seemed someone was in the room with her as she awakened--making his way quietly to her bedside table, and setting a tray of warm pastry and hot tea down alongside her; trying to work as quietly as possible. Edda stirred awake out of her potion-induced sleep, buried under the thick blankets of the bed, the top of her head barely visible. She poked her head out of the top of her blanket to look at the sound of motion with groggy eyes. For some reason, the prospect of someone being in her room in an unfamiliar place did not startle her as much as it should. She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to focus them. "M'jh-" She blinked. This was Dragonhead. "Gideon...?" "Good morning, Miss." He spoke in low tones, as if trying not to wake her still. "You will be pleased to know that I arrived in quite short order, and with several days' worth of extra insulation. I could not imagine what led to a deficit in clothing in such wintry regions, but you may rest assured that I have come prepared to resolve the matter." He straightened. "Your breakfast is on the nightstand. I shall immediately begin laundering the items worn thus far in your journey." Edda did not move, perfectly content to stay under the safe, warm blankets for just a while longer. Her eyes stayed trained on Gideon, becoming more adjusted to the cold air of the room, and the pull of consciousness. "That is alright," she said as he moved for her clothes. "I cleaned them last night. Spare yourself the trouble." "It is no trouble, Miss..." Despite his words, he sighed, stopping--surveying her bedroom with a critical eye, as if looking for some way to make himself useful. "Is there anything in the merchant's stalls that Miss requires, perhaps? How may I best assist Miss?" Edda sat up in bed and leaned forward, resting her hands on her lap. She had worn a pair of long, black gloves to bed, ones that came up to her forearms. She yawned lazily, before eyeing the breakfast. "I cannot think of anything." She frowned, and shivered. Her sleeping potion supply was now down to one, though it was not something that could be simply bought. "More wood for the fire, I suppose. It is dreadfully cold in the morning..." "Perhaps Miss would be inclined to wear more comfortable sleeping attire?" He examined her thoughtfully for a moment. "I am told that native Coerthans have been known to craft what are essentially cocoons of blanket, that they might sleep more comfortably." Still, he bowed. "I shall see to the fireplace with all due haste, Miss. I will be happy to assist you with any matters of concern or luxury during your stay." Edda frowned. "You need not push yourself so early on, and in this... cold." She shivered again, and swung her legs out of bed. Her sleeping clothes were more suited to the short chill of the Shroud than anything, and so she gladly reached for the hot tea, not bothering to cool it before taking a sip. "No pushing is involved, Miss. Surely I have described my function before?" He set a folded cloth down on the silver platter; for no obvious purpose other than presentation. "Is there truly no facility in which I may advise?" Edda took a bite of the pastry, and chewed in a contemplative silence. "Roen is here," she said in a neutral tone, and looked up at Gideon, gauging his reaction. He paused, for a fraction of a moment, then moved to the window--withdrawing the handkerchief from his own pocket and patiently rubbing at the frosty remnants on the glass. "Indeed, Miss? Are there any duties you would have me carry out on her behalf, then?" "Not in particular." She paused and looked down at her breakfast. "I am not here for leisure. I imagine I will have great need of you in the next several suns. And yet, I would be happy if you took care of your own needs before my own. Do you understand?" He sighed, with as much patience as he could display without it seeming facetious. "I will endeavor to toe said line, Miss, although my needs as ever remain quite negligible." Edda looked at the man with a wondering expression. "Do you not wish to speak with her?" "I have no particular feeling one way or the other, Miss." He continued to clean the window. The frost was not cooperating. "I presume if she had any desire to speak to me, she would have done so." Edda looked down at her lap, as if scolded. "I see," she said quietly. "I take it you did not encounter the Au Ra upon your arrival?" "Not any immediately remarkable, Miss." He sounded politely bemused, turning his head to look at her directly. "Somewhat more pressing was the commotion that drew me to the Camp with such haste in the first place. It seems there was some manner of incursion in the dark hours of the morning; a small band of draconic assailants, from what I could gather. I hastened to join the fray at the sound of cannonfire, but it seems the matter was already resolved by the time I reached the grounds. I did not pause to scrutinize each guardsman attending to the mess. I merely inquired as to your lodgings, settled in, and began preparing for your morning.” He scrutinized her for a moment, and then spoke, with as little guile as possible. “Has Miss a newfound acquaintance?" "I am not sure I would categorize him as such," she said glumly. She finished off her pastry and began to make short work of her tea. "I have agreed to guide him to Ishgard. He has a tendency of poor behavior - though that is not quite his fault - and can be infuriatingly taciturn. I would appreciate whatever insight you may have to offer, when you meet him." He smiled thinly. "I am not unfamiliar with such remarks, Miss. Perhaps the gentleman will be more forthcoming to a servant rather than a woman of Miss's distinction." "On the contrary, I do not think he would be able to differentiate between us at all." A small smile tugged at her lips, but it was not one of happiness. "He is mostly ignorant when it comes to Eorzean procedures and culture. I do think it would be futile to educate him beyond the basics, but... I would know what his intentions are." "Then I shall do what I may to attend to his customs, Miss, and thereby gain his favor in your stead." He pocketed the kerchief again, nodding to Edda. "If that is all, I will leave you to your morning preparations, Miss." Edda nodded once, before flopping on her back and looking up at the ceiling. "Thank you," she said, and closed her eyes. She would not be able to sleep, but the fatigue of the past two days had begun to take its toll, and not even the rest from that night had fully assuaged the dull ache in her arms. "That... that should be all, yes," she murmured. He watched her for another quiet moment, thoughtfully, then let himself out with a delicate smoothness. "I will be here if needed." The door clicked behind him. -- “Miss Medguistl, I believe? I do beg your pardon.” The chef looked sidelong at him--the dapper Hyur, with an apron over a Sunsilk tuxedo and curious bundles in his arms, made for an odd visitor. “If I might make use of miss’s unneeded culinary tools, for the moment? You will hardly notice my presence, I assure you.” “Do you waltz in and commandeer the stoves of an entire frontline camp so easily?” She frowned, watching him begin to set up at the spare boilers to her left, unwrapping produce and meat from the thin papers. “I am disinclined to allow amateurs free reign in my kitchen.” “There I must take issue with miss.” As the soldiers outside began to stir in the morning sunlight, North began slicing the chanterelle mushrooms, focused and deft. “I think you will find I am no amateur.”

Gideon North never returns to Horizon after All Good Things, and commits suicide in Drybone shortly after delivering the news to Adama Landama. I'm not sure if that breaks the MSQ in the opposite direction or not.

North carries his lapel pin; the metallic maple leaf that marks his prior service to the Aerstorn family. It's doubtful if Banquo possesses anything you could assign sentimental value to. Still, he's rarely seen without his golden sunglasses, through which all of Eorzea gleams like gil.

(THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HELPED MAKE THIS TRAVESTY) “Oh, thank goodness you’ve arrived...! Wait… you’re not the sous-chef... oh, no… oh, no no no no no no... The master is due back tonight from his jaunt in Costa, you see, and in utter defiance of all probability and worldly benevolence, the serving staff have all taken ill at the same time! Here, sir/miss, my linkpearl--if you have any comrades, any at all, who might be compelled to assist, contact them immediately! Dinner begins at sixth bell tonight. Bring colleagues of infinite patience and steady hand. May the gods have mercy on us all.” ~ Gideon North Quest Name: Class War Fare Trial: The Manse The Manse is a Crafter level 50 trial requiring a party of 8 adventurers to buttle, valet, and serve the residents of Taeros Manse to the best of their ability, and see the night through to a successful send-off dinner. 4 Culinarian 2 Weaver or 2 Leatherworker or 1 Weaver, 1 Leatherworker 1 Goldsmith 1 Alchemist All party members are auto-glamoured into formalwear upon entering this instance. The Echo now applies to CP, Control, and Craftsmanship. Health will not regenerate while in The Manse. The manse is split into four areas: The Foyer, The Kitchens, The Dining Hall, and The Chambers. Two units will roam the area in randomly generated paths: Master Taeros and Young Master Jonathan. Madam Crofte will remain at a fixed point in The Chambers. Mister North will remain at a fixed point in The Foyer. Should any of The Manse’s residents be dissatisfied with your performance, they will cast Haughty Gaze, an undodgeable spell that will reduce your HP by ⅓ of max and temporarily reduce CP to 0. The trade function is enabled for the duration of this trial. To clear this trial, a target point total equivalent to a combined item level of ### must be reached. To reach this target, Culinarians must craft meals during Phase 1 to deliver to the dining table in Phase 2. Each meal carries a point value that corresponds to the difficulty required to craft it, with bonus points awarded for meals specifically requested by Taeros and bonus points awarded for HQ meals. Phase One - Preparation The Master (Tank): Master Taeros requires at least one Party member to be present within ten fulms of him at all times, but out of his field of vision. Obstructing the master’s path will result in immediate release from service, reducing HP to 0. Death animation still plays as normal. Should Master Taeros be left alone for thirty seconds, he will gain a stacking buff, Unattended. Upon reaching three stacks, Master Taeros will Call Out for a manservant. CP for all party members will gradually deplete until one Party member attends to Master Taeros with a /bow, at which time the stacks will drop off. Hard Mode: Taeros will occasionally request a particular grimoire or codex. This item must be crafted by an Alchemist and delivered within one (1) minute, or else Taeros will gain one Dissatisfaction stack. The Child (Tank): At random intervals during the trial, Young Master Jonathan will move from room to room, making a mess of objects. He can be temporarily sated by being given a candy; he will cease movement while consuming the candy. For each candy Jonathan eats, he will gain a stack of Hyperactive buff. Each additional stack will reduce the amount of time a candy lasts and increase his movement speed. Repairs and replacements must be made by a GSM. Should Master Taeros come into Line of Sight with a damaged object, he will cease his wandering and Call Out for a manservant. CP for all party members will gradually deplete until the damage objected is repaired or replaced. The materials for repairs and replacements can be requested and received from Gideon North in The Foyer. There is a one minute cooldown for request and receipt of GSM materials. Candies must be fetched from the pantries in The Kitchen or from Gideon North; there is no cooldown for receipt of candies. Hard Mode: Jonathon will occasionally request a particular dye. This color must be crafted by and delivered within one (1) minutes, or else Jonathon will gain two Dissatisfaction stacks. Upon receipt of a dye, Jonathon gains one Mischief stack and will spend one stack upon coming within three fulms of a Party member. That Party member will gain the debuff Painted, auto-dying their entire gear set in the color provided. This debuff can only be removed and the gear set returned to default colors by having the debuffed Party member deliver a Grade 1 Dissolvent to Gideon North. Should Master Taeros come within Line of Sight of a Painted Party member, he will gain one Dissatisfaction stack. The Dinner (DPS): As a team, the Culinarians must attend to various crafting stands throughout the kitchen, and within the time provided, complete meals with a combined item level of ###. No two food items may be the same. Culinarians will receive CP upon successfully crafting specific requests and they will receive a temporary Control buff for crafting a HQ meal. Ingredients must be fetched from the pantries, the cellar in The Kitchen, and Gideon North (though his distance from the kitchen makes him a suboptimal source); there is no cooldown for receipt of CUL ingredients. Culinarians must be prepared to be called away from their duties to assist with the Healer and Tank’s duties, though leaving their stand unattended for too long will result in the fire crystals powering the burner overheating. Taeros will open the evening with a specific request for a certain type of meal. Foodstuffs crafted that satisfy the given statistic will count for bonus points towards the goal. “Would you have me starve surrounded by a full pantry, man/woman? It has been a grueling trip. I require something… substantial, something filling.” +Vitality foods “Tomorrow will demand much of me. One must steel themselves with the means at hand… and a good dinner might embolden a man as much as sate him, wouldn’t you say?” +Strength foods “The world weighs heavily upon my shoulders tonight, I’m afraid. Have you anything that might bolster a man’s spirit? Renew his very zest for life?” +Determination foods Hard Mode: Sous-Chef Bellveil will occasionally enter the kitchen every so often and demand a taste test. Culinarians must work together to deliver three requested HQ meals to Bellveil within one (1) minute. Should the Culinarians fail to deliver, one will be randomly selected for dismissal from service, reducing their HP to 0. The Madam (Healer): Madam Crofte must be attended to in her room within The Chambers by at least one Weaver or Leatherworker. Her health will gradually deplete over time. A series of outfits must be crafted for her, comprised of Chest, Hands, Legs, and Feet. Upon delivery of each new piece of clothing to her, Madam Crofte will be healed for 25% of her maximum health. Should a spare piece of clothing be delivered to her before an outfit is completed (i.e., two Hands pieces in a row), the madam will gain the debuff Consternated in addition to casting Haughty Gaze. While debuffed, the madam cannot be healed. The debuff can only be removed by successful delivery of a HQ piece that counts as progress towards an outfit. Should Madam Crofte’s health reach 0, she will retire to her bed and will not attend dinner, resulting in a hard enrage upon Master Taeros noting her absence. The materials for the outfits can be requested and received from Gideon North in The Foyer. There is a one minute cooldown for request and receipt of WVR and LTW materials. Hard Mode: Crofte will occasionally request a particular piece of jewelry. This item must be crafted by a Goldsmith and delivered within two (2) minutes, or else Crofte will gain one Dissatisfaction stack. Phase Two - Dinner Once every minute, Master Taeros will call for a new course to be brought to the dining table. Meals must be delivered in the order they were originally requested, or else no points will be received for delivery. Successful completion of this trial requires that the target point total equivalent to a combined item level of ### be reached before Taeros calls an end to dinner. Should Madam Crofte be absent for dinner, Phase 2 will default to a hard enrage, setting the target goal to 150% of the original value. Hard Mode: Each stack of Dissatisfaction present at the dining table will reduce point rewards by 10% of the original point reward value. Furthermore, Taeros will occasionally subtly indicate a dinner guest and communicate through body language and verbal cues whether he wishes them to retire early or be given a dose of latent poison. An Alchemist must craft the requested Sleep or Poison potions and deliver them to Gideon North so that he may administer the drinks. Failure to deliver each potion will result in the value of one specifically requested HQ meal being added to the target goal of points per potion not delivered. Delivering a HQ Potent potion will result in that same value being detracted from the target goal of points. Delivering the wrong potion at the wrong time will result in Taeros gaining one Dissatisfaction stack. HARD MODE QUEST: The Importance of Being Furnished Master Taeros is, regrettably, short-staffed once more--and on the night of his celebratory dinner for some honored Ul’dahn guests! The (in)famous Dubious Distributions company has even been called upon to cater. It would be a shame indeed if such efforts and provisions were to go to waste. North hopes he can count on your continued support, in such trying times. Just be careful not to mix up the drinks meant for the guests. Some say Ishgardian Crystwine is an acquired taste... though they often don't say it for very long. Trial Completion Rewards: Constant: 40 Allagan Tomestones of Decorum (exchangeable for elegant, formal Sunsilk gear) Variable: 1 Master recipe book 1 Wind-up Taeros

S-Scandalous! Fraternizing with the help!?

I think there's an opportunity here, if only because Banquo's wealthy enough to be a target. I'll look for you online.

"Twelve, is this prison even up to code anymore? We need to get looking into real estate."

"Staying the night in the Vale! Can you imagine? Hah, I felt so tired I couldn't move on anymore. Good thing I didn't forget all that mythril I dug up in the Sagolii. Those miners even helped me carry it out in the morning. Coerthans are so nice."