Zelmanov

So I made a visit to good ol' Dragoon trainer Alberic and asked him what was on the up and up and he gave this VERY interesting tidbit as to the state of Ishgard: Alberic: Ah, Orrin. A pleasure to see you return. I see that you remain steadfast in your pursuit of the way of the dragoon. [20:12]Alberic: The recent revelations have shaken Ishgard to its very foundation. Amidst this turmoil, the dragons continue their bloody rampage. [20:12]Alberic: Deprived of their finest warriors, the dragoons struggle to bear the burden. But bear it they must. [20:12]Alberic: For my part, I shall continue training the next generation of our nation's defenders. [20:12]Alberic: Even with Nidhogg slain, the hatred his scattered Horde bears towards us is undying. An attack may not come this day or the next, but it will come, and we must be unceasing in our vigilance. Either Alberic is now a paranoid "THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN" loon. Or it seems there is still tons of tension and conflict to be had by RP'ers. Dragoons are not out of a job...It seems its more akin to winning D-Day or at least V-E day while US is still stuck with Japan.

My questions about post MSQ extend primarily to the blood curse that all ishgardians have. AKA Drink dragon's blood, go Aevis or Syricta. Now that Nidhogg has been "killed" and the war is supposedly over. Does the curse still remain? What about Dragoons with their inner dragon? Does that dragon still stir? Is it still a threat capable of taking over those who possess it? I need answers to these two because my current plot is highly tied to those aspects. Be kind of a bummer if all this buildup to possibly given in is saved by the inner dragon going "War's over? We cool now"

Orrin : What happens when you are too pussy to go full edge-lord gary sue

I wish to post here, based primarily on my experiencing under the Fate-14 system that has been created by Verad Belveil. It is a dice and sheet system and quite fittingly, you can get consequences from being hit in battle. These consequences vary from mild (like a bruise) to severe (shattered ribs, broken bones) to EXTREME(permanent changes such as a missing arm). As such I have come in contact with many battles which even though they may have not had have lasting consequence, it has helped me in evolving my character to be shaped by his encounters. I am going to assume this battle was impromptu, on a lark in a sense, you rushed in, got terribly destroyed and somehow scraped by the skin of your teeth back home. Now in the infirmary your character is bedridden and has time to think, hell maybe not even conscious yet. What is important, most of all is how you say your character should go. Death /is/ upsetting and in the world of RP there is truly, honestly no way for your character to die unless you say so. If you feel strongly that she should be put into the ground, do it. But don't do it without deep thought for your own personal feelings. If you are playing a character for the sake of other people, I believe that gets ultimately unrewarding. Does your character continue to have a story to tell or has she gotten to "end game" so to speak? Does she still have unresolved backstory you wish to resolve? Has she fallen back to a mentor position for a new group of young scrappy adventurers? These are all personal questions you must answer for yourself. Now, if you think this should just end up changing your character's behavior, there are several paths you can go and also depends on your character's way of thinking and personality. For example, If she felt invincible before she can go (sorry for going anime) full Shinji or Simon until someone, if that someone ever comes along, forces them to get back in that giant robot. Is this an enemy she believes she is going to face again and often? Does this form a new sort of fear response/emotional weight if she ever hears of voidsent again? Does she shut out her friends and tries to go alone for fear of seeing anyone but herself be hurt? This is just merely the emotional trauma and evolution. Physically she could be permanently hobbled in some form, a bad leg that didn't set, a lost eye, missing fingers, can permanently maim your character so that she is forced to carry that experience with her in a visually representative way without forcing awkward emotional exposition or mind reading posts like "She hadn't felt so helpless since the day so and so happened" furthermore the physical impairment can help fuel the emotional distress. Frustration, anger, depression all stemming form not being able to do what you used to be able to do. To need help doing things you could do by yourself is quite jarring. And since this is fantasy instead of real life, you can have your character go desperate, seek power in ways not possible such as through magicks, mayhaps the void. due to the vagueness of your statement I can only be very general about consequences but they easily exist. And sometimes a battle does nothing to you but beat you senseless, you learn nothing and that in itself can be played out as well. Orrin, for example, is a protector, he recently got injured severely in order to save a life of someone who was not at all good but necessary to keep alive. This concluded a story promptly before another started up where Orrin was then forced to do his duties, maintain his identity despite having it hurt to keep his weapon up. This was further compounded by facing enemies that outpaced him in his age so another thing to take into account is at what point in your character's life does that defeat come? Has she never really truly experienced defeat like this? Does she now fear failure because it is suddenly possible in her mind? Has she seen worse? Orrin is currently in quite a faustian pact. As a Dragoon he possesses an Inner Dragon, a tempting, seductive wellspring of power he could tap into, something he believes he can control. Though he is primarily a NG/LG aligned character, this development can easily force him into a bad spot. A point of no return. My character is not the one to suffer defeat, in a very warrior-like fashion if he is allowed to limp away he will come back with extra fury and strength because if he wasn't meant to, he would have died back at that defeat. Hope this helps and wasn't just ramblings

Adopted and raised as heir apparent, biological heir comes into the mix, Orrin goes to the army and trains. Made it 15 years without dying.

Hyyyype, glamouring my gear back to Dragoon AF2 just for the nidhogg fight

The dwelling was much like others in the Brume, made from splintered wood scavenged from the scaffolding used to repair the war-torn city of Ishgard. Tightly packed among the others, leaning against the firm grey stone walls that have stood for millennium, the impermanent shack would conversely and most undoubtedly fall come the next attack. But that did not matter to Achenne Raunard. Though there was sparsely enough firewood for the hearth and snow would get in when the wind blew just right, this was a home she had built with her loving husband. A home, she believed, that could always be rebuilt so long as she had him by her side. Achenne sat at the low table that rested in the middle of the singular room dwelling. There was a hay mattress in the corner of the room, just behind a cobbled-together shelf for some semblance of privacy. Clothing was laid out by the hearth of a crackling fire; her one good dress and her husband’s tunic and gaiters left to dry without freezing over in the cold. She did not know when Atoix would return, the assignment was to be of indeterminate length, but she nevertheless she would wait each day by the door when the bells rung for the return of the patrols and soldiers whenever she could. A fortnight, He had been gone for longer, in fact the longer deployments gave her some degree of relief. The long absences were routine. It was the sudden, urgent call to arms that had always struck terror into her heart. She remembered the tolling of the alarum when the barriers that protected Ishgard fell. She held herself on that hay bed as cannon shot and dragon’s roars echoed off in the distance at the Steps of Faith. Atoix came back bruised but better off than most that day. His valor, recognized by the Lord Commander, had set him on the path to Templar Knight. It was just like him to leap at the chance of proving himself upon hearing La Floret’s missive. “This is it, Achenne, when I return I shall be of the Knights Templar, we can say goodbye to the brume, you will live as you should, as you deserve.” There is a knock on the door. Strange, she was not expecting guests. “Just a minute!” Achenne would call out, standing up, tightening up the straps on her blouse, corralling the unruly raven hair into a neat ponytail before answering the door. A Hyuran man stood before her. His medium-length, chestnut brown hair was pulled back neatly, barring a few errant strands over his forehead. It all sat upon an older face, accentuated by a tightly trimmed band of stubble on his chin and hardened with a stare that seemed to go right past her. His garb was well-tailored, form fitting. The clothing and stature convincing her that the man in front of him was an actively serving Highborn. “Excuse me, miss? Is this the residence of Lady Achenne Raunard?” His accent was impeccable and confirmed her suspicions. His voice, combined with his icy-blue eyes put a chill down her spine. “I be Achenne Raunard, aye. Lady though? You must be mistaken, this is the Brume after all m’lord.” She felt the lump in her throat, there was no joy in the Hyur’s expression. “Is…is something the matter?” Her eyes go wide, she clasped both hands to her mouth stifling a gasp. How did she not notice it before? In the man’s hands was a shield with the crest of House Durendaire, three jagged grooves clawed down the length of it at an angle. “I am Orrin de Halgren of the Knights Dragoon, Bannerman of House Fortemps and Commander of Camp Mistwall. It is with heavy heart to say that Ser Artoix Raunard…” Achenne felt faint, her vision blurred with the welling of tears, she had seen this before, with her neighbors, the words nearly the same, just swap a name here, a location there. “…has gone missing and is presumed killed in the battle of Camp Mistwall in the Churning Mists, this is all that remains.” It was like a lance to the gut, lashing out to yank the shield, her husband’s shield, from his hands. Wrapping her arms around it tightly her head falls forward in grief, in such obvious pain and yet, he continued to speak. “He had fought valiantly in combat against forces that would make lesser men flee in terror. Many dragons and a primal lay dead by his contribution. Many more of Ishgard’s men would lie with them were it not for him. In light of his contributions he has been posthumously been made a Knight Templar and shall have a marked grave plot in the pillars amongst others who were worthy to walk in Halone’s halls.” She didn’t want a grave, she wanted her husband. A quiet, pitiful sob was all she could muster. “With no next of kin, the privileges bestowed upon him shall be given to you instead. A place in the pillars and a stipend deserving of his position are now yours in gratitude for his service.” Gratitude? Deserving? She lets out a wail. Tossing aside the heavy shield with a resounding clang upon the stone floor she charges at the Dragoon, the man who marched her husband to his death. He doesn’t move as she banged her fists against his chest in rage. The commander’s face did not betray any emotion, standing firm, immovable, she may as well have been hitting a wall. “Damn you! May you rot in the lowest circle of Hell” She said with a final defiant strike against him before finally collapsing onto her knees onto the floor. Seeing the discarded shield nearby, she gasps and pulls it back in against her chest, clinging to it. A few more moments passed and the Dragoon lingered. What did he want from her? “Leave, damn you!” she said, voice going hoarse. The Hyuran man remained ever stoic at the sight. He tries to take a step forward, to which Achene bellowed “Not another step closer! Go! I never want to see you again! You took him from me, you and /your/ war!” And with that, the messenger of Artoix’s death departed, leaving the woman in the frame of the doorway. She looks at the shield, tracing her fingers over the clawed in grooves of the marred shield. “I deserved a life with you, Artoix, nothing more.” _____________________________________________________ For Orrin, it never got easier, not after all these years. He looks at the next address in in the list he held in his hands and then to the house in front of him. He breathes in deep and knocks on the door.

Would want to do A, but its during raid times T_T

“They are going after the Wyrmtear” That is what Anstarra had said. Even after so long the taint that was left by the heretics in Ul’dah persisted. How he had wished that he could eliminate the idea of the blasted artifact, relegate it back to legend so that none would seek its power. The reality was instead that so long as people knew of it, there would be those who would seek it. Would the same go for Tharl Oom Khash even after the eventual capture of Friont? Once he is gone, who would answer the call? For now, it mattered not, U’ala had written to him for aid and he was beholden to his promise. The coincidence that an Immortal Flames expedition for the tear was occurring at the same time was merely that: a coincidence. Nevertheless, Orrin secretly hoped that they could pick up the trail of X’kirra where he had failed. He made his preparations, he made the mistake of wearing full plate in the desert before, he would not make the same mistake this time.

A loud roar and the fluttering of leathery wings startled Orrin awake. Almost immediately he kicked off his bedroll and reached for his weapon that was just by his side. As his hand came upon the haft of the spear he realized he was currently looking up at not clear skies, but the ceiling of his officer’s tent. Soon enough he heard the familiar, almost therapeutic, sound of soldiers shouting drills; the roar being nothing more than the grinding of heavy metal against wood as cannons and dragonslayers were re-positioned and calibrated, the wings were nothing but loose flap of his tent caught in the wind. His breathing slowly calmed and he fell back onto his roll with a sigh. After what felt like a bell he picks himself up and donned his armor. Cradling his helm under his left arm, he pushed past the entrance of the tent and was greeted with blinding light that forced him to bring his armored claw of a hand to block his eyes. It had been nearly a moon since Orrin had heard the voices of other people, nearly a moon since he had something other than charred Hropken meat or ill-prepared kupo nuts. It was not, however, his longest stint in the wilds alone. After Reillette, he had been gone so long that some had believed him to have gone rogue. None had bothered to come for him then, no “Dragoon Hunter” to come and put him down like the rabid mutt some had believed him to be. Was it faith that protected him then? His father? Or was it that he was not worth the trouble in the grand scheme of the war? No matter, his isolation then was nothing to the tortuous solitude he experienced being the lone sentinel of Tharl Oom Khash. The air was thick with aether here; some soldiers had already came down with sicknesses as the result of a surfeit of it. For Orrin, even though the light of the crystal had seemingly ceased its protection of him, the echo still did him the honor of assaulting his waking and sleeping moments with spectres and phantoms of Ishgard’s past and his own. Time and time again he had found himself drawn to precipices and cliffs that in the past used to be whole, flat land, following after visions almost to his death. The murder of Ratatoskr so clear, the pained cries of betrayal that transcended language and species. That inner dragon that had so cruelly taken the form of his past love screamed and cursed and strained against its fetters. Fetters that Orrin himself had loosened in rage when he fought Frimont. The warmth, the seemingly endless fount of power that surged forth in righteous fury had nearly consumed him. Had Inquisitor Helene not robbed him of destroying his former hero…he avoided the thought. There was no doubt now that the sins of Ishgard’s past flowed through his veins as the urge, the call ever strengthened. He had not drank dragon’s blood but his armor was quenched in it, his soulstone possessed it. His mortal strength waned but that of the dragons was everlasting. Frimont knew that, it was the only way a man with grey in his hair could continue to fell multiple hydras in a single jump. Was it going to be the only way for Orrin to protect the people he had come to call friends? Protect his nation? Orrin’s eyes adjusted to the light, staring at back of his clawed gauntlet, a feature he lamented was absent on the Drachen Mail. The damage he could do with the claws as well as the spikes would have been terrifying. Now however, those claws, the helm he carried were there to symbolize the union of dragon of man, of power given, not stolen. Though he felt unsettlingly comfortable inside the scale suit and seeing through the blood red dragon’s eyes of his visor he knew full well that these were equally a reminder of what he could become, what he refused to become. He need only hold on for a little while longer. The war will end in his life time, he need only wait for the dawn and his watch will end. He would cast aside the soulstone and with it banish the specter of his first sin from his life. This is what he wanted to believe even though resting on a splintered, caved-in table in his tent was a letter that still held the scent of the Sagolii sand calling for his aid.

Orrin has to come

I'll find a way to worm my way into C...

Oh no you don't I'm cancelling a raid day for this!

Orrin originally had the comfort of being an Ishgardian Dragoon and thus far far away from the warpath of the Warrior of Light. But once all that came home to Ishgard, I seriously played up the "Life still has to go on" and the "You're skills are needed elsewhere" trope to explain why Orrin would never have run into the WOL. He's always out on assignment. I also lean heavily on the fact that Orrin is military and not some random adventurer, he has duties, patrols, obligations that stop him from flights of fancy beyond wooing bar wenches when on shore leave. As for the passage of time, I tend to give 2-3 weeks grace period after a story drop for people to do stuff before I transport Orrin to the "present" and start to RP freely the events as already passed

Orrin SHOULD be at Holy Instruments...but my Raid is smack dab in the middle of that time >_>

posting to subscribe

Orrin's combat is borne from training as a Dragoon, as such its all about finding that one exposed weak spot and putting all the force into that hit to put the threat down for good and moving on to the next one. Enemy and currently held weapon informs the nuances of his style, However most who have RP'd combat with Orrin can attest it usually revolves around jumping at an opponent really hard. Failing that it tends to become a flurry of blows to overwhelm and eventually crush the opponent.

Oh dear, what did V'aleera do?

I'm feigning IC ignorance because if Orrin knew who was going....

V'al coming to the aid of dragons? its the end of the world.

Neither Contend for me, its the only event I can actually make. Rest are during my raids T_T

I have to echo what others have said in so far on the idea that Eorzea is filled with death left and right, though primarily it is death via sickness and monsters more so than another human being. Killing a toad, killing a beastman even, would probably not hang heavy on the minds of a lot of people. Now another human being? I see no reason as to why it'd be any less of an impact in comparison to real life. Even career soldiers grapple with PTSD and guilt of ending the life of another despite the fact that the enemy may be actively trying to kill them. Now the thing is, people deal with it in different ways. Some dehumanize the enemy, become numb to it, some hide behind righteousness or the fact they had no choice. Orrin is an Ishgardian Dragoon, not only is his enemy commonly non human but he comes from a place that extols the righteousness of combat. It is currently an exploration in his character for me thanks to Heavensward tossing things on their head. He has killed a good deal of NPC characters as part of plot lines but he generally goes by what'd be considered an inquisitorial approach. An enemy is much more useful alive to give information than it is to slaughter them outright. He does not fall into what I consider to be the stupid stupid moral posturing where he chainsaws through a mob of mooks and then spares the main bad guy because it is "wrong to kill" He may keep him alive because he may be more useful that way. More over, he has his past demons as well. I just feel a lot of the exploration on the act of killing is a very much personal, character driven thing that is good to read in a novel where you can be alone with the character's thoughts. In a collaborative rp setting however, it may just sound like a call for attention that just bogs down the pace of an RP.

I'd also take into account, since time is an issue here, that Ishard's "story" in so far as to what we care about is coming to a close. What with the next patch of 3.3 or possibly 3.4 concluding the Dragonsong War before we handle the next expansion. Now if you are willing to buckle down and do the heavensward story, you can benefit from being Ishgardian in so far as having a fast, to the point character arc without you being forced to dick around for 2-3 months stagnant. However this may get you to your character's "end game" much too quickly for your liking (be it making up with his sister, affirmation or rejection of his religion, etc.) Ala Mhigo seems to be the focus for the next expansion, what with some Heavensward clips hinting at it. Or at the very least, we'll be clashing directly with Garlemald again which opens up a LOT of RP avenues for a TON of character meaning that you'll have no shortage of people to help explore your character growth. If you character's growth is tied to his nation, Ishgard doesn't have much more to grow. If you hope for this to just be a chapter in life before say, going to whatever far off lands in future expansions and becoming an adventurer? Do whatever you feel is more attractive. Though for me, Gridania is a very different origin thematically to me. The "way of life" is a rule in fear of a power far beyond any reckoning or strength any mortal can wield. The elementals are capricious, violent and can't even discern one mortal from another. they are Eldritch horrors by any other name. There are very few ways to "resolve" questioning that way of life beyond abandonment of Gridania, especially for a supposedly merciful character.

Due to the time of the event landing directly during my raid times, I would like to withdraw and go for the Zombie Dragon investigation event on thursday

uhm, perfect pest may be best for me