Zelmanov

It is very hard to interact with THE WOL if only because you have to choose a gender, race and appearance that won't mesh with everyone's perceptions of what they think the WOL is. Along with the power creep that comes from being "that important" However I do say I disagree with staying away from any and all named NPC's. You can be a flame and have to answer to Tarupin's orders. A Dragoon most likely has to write up reports that would be directly addressed to Aymeric. Any Sultansworn could have passing interactions with the Sultana. What I am trying to get at...if you are part of an organization with military leaders, the moment you play something higher than say a sergeant, you have to answer to your named superiors. Orrin may not be Estinien's friend, but he definitely could have been on the same battlefields.

excuse my ignorance but isn't HOLY white magic that is directly linked to Succor and thus a DIRECT means to harm someone? Its not some DnD spell that spares the good and harms evil on some magical absolute sliding scale of morality, Holy nukes everyone the white mage aims to nuke.

I want to leave Rumors but Orrin doesn't gossip, so I have trouble choosing an non gossipy "rumor" to contribute

A wax-sealed letter would find its way to the tribunal, addressed to the high council. To the charges brought against Inquisitor Xanadu Mol for the murder of Inquisitor Friont, I, Orrin de Halgren, bannerman of House Fortemps, Dragoon of Ishgard hereby testify forthwith. My words are my own and without any coercion, my beliefs true and solely in interest to proper justice be meted out. Inquisitor Xanadu Mol has stated time and again to be hunting Inquisitor Friont, which of course should be taken as madness to all who have attended his cremation. However, In the Sea of Clouds, north of Ok’ Zundu, I have come to witness a man with which my own eyes and ears is indistinguishable from the supposedly late Inquisitor. Furthermore, Inquisitor Mol was there, in direct opposition to Inquisitor Friont’s goals. I have my damaged armor, and opened wounds to corroborate the violent exchange. Even if the aforementioned was in fact a very well put together glamor that mimicked not only appearance but speech and knowledge as well, hunting down a copy does not seem the motive of a murderer of the original. Inquisitor Friont is alive and by extension Xanadu Mol cannot be responsible for his murder. With my testimony concluded I wish to plead that while I cannot speak on the other, coinciding crimes heaped upon Inquisitor Mol, let it be known that her path has brought her upon the discovery of void magicks mixed with Dragon-kind. Far reaching, evil, unholy rituals that have been discovered from the Floating City of Nym to the Dravanian Forelands with which we border with. This is a threat that risks to consume man and dragonkind alike and I am certain that detaining or executing her runs risks of letting a larger, more catastrophic calamity to come about. If we are to atone for our sins brought about by our forefathers we must quell this most heinous and immoral act perpetrated by what may be Inquisitor Friont himself. May the Righteousness of The Fury guide you down the correct path, Orrin de Halgren A more perfunctory note would find way to The Congregation of our Knights Most Heavenly To the Lord Commander, As per my previous experiences with the void, I, Orrin de Halgren upon my own impetus have responded to the call of the dragons of Anyx Trine. Despite some initial resistance my aid was received and with it confirmed the discovery of the blight. Indeed the dragons were afflicted with something that could reanimate the corpses of dragons long after their heads were severed, their bellies slashed and wings plucked. The infected were routed and the infection cleansed. However and in corroboration with a thaumaturge, the source was voidal in nature, much akin to the experiences I had in previous reports. Be wary of dark magicks afoot, all Dragoons sent on investigation of…abnormal dragon activity must be made cautious and wary. In the meanwhile, I shall investigate further as to the source. Fury guide you, Orrin de Halgren

Friont tilts his head as Orrin lands, the cold air of the Sea of Clouds gusting about between them. Orrin’s gaze hidden behind the four unblinking red eyes of his helm. Orrin doesn’t even let the supposedly dead inquisitor speak before he is at full charge, spear low with what seemed to be with murderous intent. Friont is unmoved, only opening his hand to reveal a simple gil coin. "You're as tenacious as your father, I'll give you that." He flicks the coin into the air, sending it spinning. Aether gathers around it for just a moment, then it shoots straight at Orrin’s heart like a golden laser beam. Suddenly, breathlessness, everything felt so heavy, his spear veers off course, his hurried strides into battle become pained staggered stumbles, his vision, going dark. Anstarra, Nihka, Evangeline, Martiallais, all could see from that one far off island the profile of the Dragoon collapsing mere fulms away from the inquisitor with the golden gil, the beam of light that shot it dissipating into the fog. “Tell Milette I said hello." --- Silence. Darkness. Numbness. “That was the Goddess’ last for you, Lover.” A painfully familiar voice crooned “Even the endless have their limits in patience, but I am still here for you.” Her words ended with a purr “She was no good for you anyway, she never cared for you like I did.” The rustling of chains. Twilight. Biting cold. “Remember who kept you warm those cold winter years? Even long after I died.” There was a cruel, amused savoring of those final two words. A cry of pain. A flash of Crimson. Warmth. “Every time you fought, you felt me with you.” A laugh “And you would seek every opportunity to do so, to feel my touch.” There is a retired sigh. More rustling. A growing, fiery light in the distance. Sweltering heat. “But Lover you always kept me at an arm’s length away, no matter how dire, how desperately you needed me. Why do this to yourself? I am here. You need only embrace me. I’ll protect you like I always have.” Roaring. Light. Hellfire “That is right, I’ll be here. Always, even when no one else will have you.” There is a pause “I will not let anyone else have you.” “I am so glad I can finally hold you.” And with that Orrin’s eyes opened, gasping and coughing, he had the taste of a potion on the back of his tongue.

Going back to the EstHogg assassination, If you notice, he directly lecture's vidofnir AFTER the stabbing. This leads me to believe that the attack was purposefully nonfatal otherwise he'd be lecturing a corpse which is infinitely more dumb. So my conclusion is that Nidhogg's hatred is solely towards the Ishgardians and he bares sympathy/mercy towards his own dragonkind. What he did was the equivalent of a violent spanking and warning that he'd do much worse if they even think of being race traitor.

Was a little confused/surprised about the "Death to Nidhogg" chant being framed as a negative. I mean yes calling for blood is rarely ever a good thing, but they weren't saying death to all dravanians, they are quite clearly calling for an act against the final person who will not stand down and end the war. Ishgard's fight was never with Vidofnir, and even Midgardsormr was like "YOu ready to smack down my son?" So yeah, if anything it could have been better phrased of presented if the intent was less a rekindling of enthusiasm to end the war and more a "back to square one"

Spahro I highly recommend looking at the new Hildebrand Questline and the MSQ and how that may affect the development of the story line you get going. Apparently the Inquisition is short on funding and in need of bringing heretics in (hildebrand)

Orrin's eyes flutter open as the sunlight crept through the window and shone directly over his face. He raises his left hand reflexively to block the light and winces, dropping it back down. He turns his head to his right away from the light, seeing the wooden walls and his bandaged up shoulder. Orrin had spent about a sennight now in the dubious household and he began to dislike the familiarity of the that infirmary that developed over the course of his stay. He felt the heat of the sun starting to uncomfortably warm his skin. He sits up, away from the sunbeams, sliding over to the foot of the bed where he let his legs dangle off and come to touch the cool wooden floors of the estate. In here time seemed to stagnate, stiflingly so. Yes there was Nihka, Anstarra, even Spahro to which made his internment all the more tolerable but he knew that out there, the world did not stop. Inquisitor Mol, charged with crimes he could honestly believe but he thought her better to not do all of them at once. Furthermore, it had been half a cycle since that Wyrmtear had escaped his clutches. And even then, though the dragonsong war had hit a lull, it was far from over. He stands and heads for the showers, unraveling the wraps that bound his chest together in one piece. He slides open the door and steps into the surprisingly civilized shower and turned on the water, letting the steam rise and cloud everything around him. His thoughts turned to the butcher of Toto Rak, how after the purification nothing was left but a corpse. He felt the sting of the hot water upon his tender, bruised flesh and he grits his teeth. Ishgardian mind wondering if it was worth it all in the end. "In the twisted smile of every murderer" Those were Neruhm's words and yet the building fell, the voidsent banished from the realm. However, was the demon truly beaten? If so, any tortuous, eternal hold he had on any of those souls would have been freed, surely. And by extension, his injury was unnecessary. However if the creature was merely deflected..those that had died, they still suffered, suffered enough that even Syros North, in all his pain and agony, only wished for an apology from Orrin for sending him back to that hell. Neither conclusion sat well with him, though what was certain was that he was not convinced of the void prince's supposed inability to be killed. "Neruhm" he says to the deserted walls of the infirmary, none answered him except for the rushing of water that circled down the drain. "I thought so." Even then, there was a haunting emptiness that resided, some restless dissatisfaction, he still remembered the silent screams of Wailers consumed by the Greenwrath, his arm still occasional twitched from the levin bolts he sustained from a god. Dragonkiller, voidslayer, and still..."I'm out of my depth."

I sign up for court of owls. I'll give up the spot for new players who want to join however

The obvious answer: Kainus4eCMMP8W0 Less Obvious: Seung Mina FiCEXH_opSE

I want to congratulate Verad not solely for his story crafting but for his (and other GMs for this event) ability to cater towards players new and old, combat chainsaws and social intellectuals. Congratulations on what can be called superb balancing of making each person have moments of power and powerlessness. I almost hope another Verad campaign doesn't happen too soon or else Orrin may be considered a deserter for his extended stays out of Ishgard.

Orrin'd have nuked Ysayle instead of letting her get away in snowcloak.... He probably wouldn't have made it taht far though, the company of heroes bull would make him pack up and go

Dragoons get a BACKFLIP EMOTE YAAAS

Severe consequences can't be magicked away, or they'd be meaningless, he's as healed as magick can manage though with the modification to the scene, I may choose to become a silent onlooker

Orrin's bedridden on the gamble the rest can be solved without him. Have fun!

Friday conflicts with Brother's Keeper event, but I'm the only one in it so... maybe I can get it moved?

I guess Unbelief makes the most sense. Sign me up.

Quit my raid group. Most nights are free now.

Weekends are the safest bets for me. Raid schedule is a little inconsistent during the weekdays.

Damn my raid schedule, Wish i could have contributed more to the Nihka subplot a bit more.

Season 1 OP Leaving Ishgard, Scales in the Sand Story Arc, including the Steps of Faith: UEpcS1r9-m4 Season 1 ED 4YSCBvsmpMM Season 2 OP Crimes Against Nature, Heavensward Arc: OtQQHHtAhRk Season 2 ED: H0L9NS2LFAw Season 3 OP My Brother's Keeper. 9uw1G4hC3Us Season 3 ED 1m1QNL0GYms **Edited to better reflect my thoughts, swapped season 2 op with season 3

accidental double post. message deleted

Eastern La Noscea: North of Costa Del Sol It was fortunate that the meeting had taken place in The Mists. Orrin was now close to a point of interest that he was meaning to visit. There was a cove, or so Orrin was told, a place with a waterfall that drained into it, pooling to knee height before flowing out into the ocean. Supposedly a Roegadyn of spectacular size and peculiar garb had spent many a day swinging his axe there and meditating. If his thoughts were correct,that was none other than a member of the fabled mountain tribes, the Warriors, with capital w’s, marshals over something inside them called the inner beast, something the channeled and unleashed to terrible effect. More importantly, those Warriors knew how to chain up that great power once the battle had finished, they knew how to not let it consume them. For Orrin, he figured that if the place was suitable for a Warrior, it must be suitable for what he had hopes to do. Lugging a bag over the shoulder of his blue yukata, Orrin made his way through a small stony underpass that channeled the echoing roar of the waterfall. A few startled Colibri take off in a flutter as he made his way through, edging closer to the fabled training ground. The narrow passage opened up before him and a small grin curled upon his lips. He feels the cool mist hanging low in the air, watching with a quiet awe at the pristine beauty of the tumbling waters he heard the sound of….girls? His gaze turns towards his right and noticed, much to his chagrin, one of the many stilted bungalows that adorned the beach side of the Bloodsands in this supposedly secret grotto. Pat pat-pat pat, even against the noise of the waterfall he heard shuffling feat upon the wooden boards and the swaying form of scantily clad dancers moved through the motions of what could only be a routine of theirs. Orrin began to wonder if “swinging his axe” was a euphemism. Regardless, the gray-white stones reminded him of his Ishgardian home and the waters, though not nearly as bitingly cold, reminded him of the conditioning done just outside of Camp Dragonhead. He started to strip down to just his small clothes and waded into the water, dipping his head underneath the cascade, letting it roll over the taut musculature of his war-forged body. His eyes closed and all sounds of the outside world began to become muddled and indistinct. From the outside he was utterly motionless, catatonic almost, not even the blushing tittering of passing girls seemed to disturb him. Deep inhale, deep exhale, his fingers interlaced in front of him as he sat on his knees. He saw nothing but the blackness behind his eyelids, felt nothing but the pounding pressure of the waters above. They say what each Dragoon saw was different, though the temptation was still all the same: a promise of terrible power, power to let them achieve whatever they desired. The Dragon’s blood that they had willingly took on through their blood-quenched armor would promise them anything, so long as they were to give in, to unfetter the roiling inferno that just needed to get out. Meditation, introspection, study of holy texts, and above all, an adherence to one’s sense of justice was what was taught to allow Dragoons to let that inner temptation stir but still maintain control. Just enough to maintain the unholy pact they made to give them ability to dance in the skies to vanquish their foes. Orrin indeed sought more power,but not through the dragon’s blood, he sought the will to defy the void prince he had sworn to destroy and what better substitute than trying to let his inner dragon stretch its legs? “You could have saved me, Orrin”a woman’s voice lamented “I did not need to die.” Orrin’s lip twitched ever so slightly “you know that it could be reversed, those that drink of the blood need not be condemned” A flash of a painful memory crossed his mind, fiery red hair upon a slumped over body, mouth agape, eyes wide at the sight of a lance that had ran through her abdomen “you knew it was within you, you only had to call on that power, but you were a coward.” There was venom in those words “You killed me instead, it came too easily didn’t it?” The roar of the waterfall seemed to swell, like a dragon’s call “You want that power now?” she said in a sultry tone “Found someone you care for more than me? I thought I was your only one…” Orrin felt a welling heat in his gut. “It is all there, it really is,everything you need to stop anyone from suffering like you had.” Her arms open wide and there was the gaping bloody hole that he had left in her, within it was a fiery burning reptilian eye. He gazed upon the eye, each passing moment waves of power pulsed over his being. “Just come to me, Orrin…” His breathing quickened, how long could he stare into that abyss, stare into that untapped fount of power before it drowned him? “Longer” he pushed himself, to focus, the woman’s words becoming gnashing, impatient “What is wrong? Can’t you see it’s within your grasp?” His brows furrowed and as he gazed upon the eye, he felt as though something was staring back, something else. It was then the woman lunged at him “He is mine! NOT YOURS!” In his mind’s eye he put his hands up to protect himself, massive, iron chains shot out and bound the spectral form and dragged her back down into the depths of his psyche with a banshee wail. When he opened his eyes, he was panting, a single trickle of blood running from one nostril that soon washed away with the water. That was not the presence he expected to feel, and in his distraction he was nearly claimed. His body began to shake, looking upon his hands that were clenched into tight fists. It had sensed the interloper too, and waited until he was distracted like a proper predator of the mind, but still he was able to shut it out in time. “Is the reach of Neruhm really so far as to reach me in Costa Del Sol?” He couldn’t believe it. Soon enough his breathing slows and rises to his feet beneath the waterfall. He turns his head up and closes his eyes to completely drench himself in, still feeling as though a dragon’s roar hid just behind the sound of rushing water. He pulls his head out along with the rest of him and fished for a towel in his bag. He wouldn’t dare try to test his will again until he found the source of the interference. He watches the women dance and remembers he had someone to ask out on a date.

What brought on the thought is primarily that we have Tiamat in the south...no one is doing anything about her. She seems like prime candidate for all sorts of things, good and ill.