Flashhelix

come, enter my magical realm the realm of fat cats

I think the reason a lot of people seem like they're assuming martial weapons > firearms is because a lot of people are afraid of just the opposite. Combat RP starts, gun is drawn, and a lot of people fear they'll be ostracized just for even thinking that they can do anything against a gun, whether it's via armor, magic, weaponry, etc.

my IC tumblr for all things FFXIV: COME ON AND

i don't understand, i roleplay this everyday already

People need to use common sense, unless there's a magical field around Eorzea that somehow makes a scythe a viable weapon, then it's not a viable weapon, and this is supported by the fact we only see them in use by voidsent up to and including voidsent KINGS like Ferdiad who probably could use any makeshift weapon well because they're demons. This isn't XI.

Mostly what's already been said, if firearms weren't able to be fought via: aether fuckery sufficiently durable armor or straight-up being able to swat bullets out of the air because we live in bullshit anime world then I don't think there'd be anything stopping Garlemald from just running roughshod over Eorzea. In a lot of ways, Eorzean magic could be seen as a counter or equivalent to Garlemald's firearms, but there has to be some reason why people bother taking swordsmen/pikemen/whatever into battle instead of just a bunch of mages. That being said I can predict many OOC bitchfights centered around "BULLSHIT YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO MY BULLETS" "YEAH I CAN" :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar:

flynt flynt at the grindstone

move over, fatties guaranteed replies

I know I would, I don't know where the "Oskwell and Seiko hate Kurt" thing came from but it's not true, you're probably right about Edda though.

Maybe the insecure one is the person trying to "call out" anybody who points out something as benign as highlander men often going shirtless and assuming it's due to some deep-seated virtual pec jealousy, or god-forbid repressed homosexual urges. hint hint: you can choose your race, the people who want to have a highlander physique will have one because they picked highlander the OP also plays a highlander fyi :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar: My homosexual urges aren't repressed. They are very much out and about. right, but then assuming other people in the thread feel the same??? i am not so sure :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar: The insecurity doesn't have to mean that they have latent homosexual feelings themselves. That's your assumption, not mine. :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar: But then assume they're insecure in the first place? That seems like a bit much to begin with, i doubt anybody is insecure over videogame pecs :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar:

Maybe the insecure one is the person trying to "call out" anybody who points out something as benign as highlander men often going shirtless and assuming it's due to some deep-seated virtual pec jealousy, or god-forbid repressed homosexual urges. hint hint: you can choose your race, the people who want to have a highlander physique will have one because they picked highlander the OP also plays a highlander fyi :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar: My homosexual urges aren't repressed. They are very much out and about. right, but then assuming other people in the thread feel the same??? i am not so sure :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar::cactuar:

Maybe the insecure one is the person trying to "call out" anybody who points out something as benign as highlander men often going shirtless and assuming it's due to some deep-seated virtual pec jealousy, or god-forbid repressed homosexual urges. hint hint: you can choose your race, the people who want to have a highlander physique will have one because they picked highlander the OP also plays a highlander fyi :cactuar::cactuar::cactuar:

Yeah, though you can easily make a convincing non-androgynous male as a midlander, just not a big-dick muscle fetish erp-perfect alphamale.

more than you think :cactuar:

I say leave it off, makes them all the easier to shank [video=youtube] pearl alley hustlers don't play

*Sees dragoon on the right* You know shit is real when the cook has to go to war in his apron. DRG/CUL crossclass confirmed

Everybody I know has always gone off RL years = vidya years. After all, I'm sure most people don't go off the ingame day/night cycle. "Oh... it's night... let's wait a few minutes." And so they equate RL days with Eorzean days. The logical extent of that is using years for the same as well. I'd hate for some truly major (like, for example, the fall of Ishgard) to happen in 3.0 and them to put a very specific year on it, causing a divide between people who RP the timeline different. I've also yet to actually encounter anybody ingame who roleplays that it's still the year it was assumed to be when ARR launched, so maybe the divide will be less even than one would think. It remains to be seen.

They specifically stated in the Live Letter that there is a special air current native to Ishgard and the surrounding lands, and is why mounts can fly in the HW areas and not in the ARR areas, that's pretty cut and dry.

if there's one thread that didn't need a necro, it's this one

Looking for a small house? Wanna get it on THE BEACH? Wanna get it for a fair price? Are you real enough? I'll answer that for you. You probably are! A small plot in the mist. Ward one, plot 33, easily reached and easily found. Close proximity to a market board and retainer bell! No seriously, they're right around the block! And I'm letting go of this plot for the low starting price of 15 million gil! I'm open to negotiations, however.

The First Lesson There were plenty of questions rushing through Oskwell's mind right about now. The biggest one, however, was why he was asleep in the back of a hay-filled wagon being dragged through the colder-than-hell highlands in the dead of night instead of with his wife in a warm bed heading absolutely nowhere. He knew the the answer to that question, though. It was the letter. The way Oskwell figured, it was a sad misunderstanding at best and a really clever trap at worst. Either way, it wasn't something that could just be ignored. The dream was the same as always. Skeleton with a spear, lots of screaming and no floor. Oskwell bolted up coated in sweat, as always, and started drying himself with a nearby cloth. He heard the driver speak up in front, now aware of his passenger's noisy sleep-talking. "Alright, we're gettin' about out that ways," he said, "The path goes further for a few malms, but this the furthest I can go." Oskwell had slept in a stitched-together hempen outfit, as the trip was long and the prospect of sleeping in plate was unnecessary and not too attractive. After taking a few minutes to slip on the various layers of chainmail, leather and plate, Oskwell hopped off the back of the wagon with his spear at his back. He turned back to reach into the wagon and grab his leather satchel. He quickly yanked open the buttoned top, taking a quick inventory of its contents. The wagon pulled off at the sound of two knocks from Oskwell, heading back the way it had brought him, the lancer heading in the exact opposite direction. Six bells of non-stop walking over some of the most uneven terrain that the region had to offer was taking its toll on Oskwell, who hadn't done any trip of such length and difficulty in a handful of years. He uttered a prayer to Halone under his breath when he saw the path end in a large, rocky clearing. It was at this point, Oskwell thought, that he'd be able to confirm that the trip was for nothing and make his way back. What he wasn't counting on was the sight of a robed figure resting on the edge of a large stone at the opposite end of the clearing. Oskwell walked in the direction of the robed figure, stopping at the center of the clearing. "I'm here," Oskwell said, "And I've answered your summons. Now, who are you?" The hooded figure, without answering, stood up and began making its way towards Oskwell in turn. It stopped halfway between Oskwell and the rock, then pulled the hood down around its shoulders. As could probably be inferred from his general shape beforehand, the figure was a male elezen, long-faced with a pointed chin. His face had its fair share of wrinkles, and his hairline was slightly receded, a gray blanket of hair covering everything below his nose. The elezen said nothing as he made his way closer until he stood merely a fulm away from Oskwell. The hyur didn't know whether to hop back and draw his spear or pull the man in for a hug, so he settled on the comfortable middle ground of dumbfounded staring, the elezen reaching up to un-buckle Oskwell's coif and slide it off his head to expose his face. "Mnh. More than I expected, yet far less than I'd prefer." the elezen said. He opened his mouth to let out another calm summation, but he was cut off by a cry of "Tournes!?" from Oskwell. "Yes," the elezen said, groaning and looking at the spear harnessed on the man's back, "At the very least you can still use one of those. Maybe this isn't a completely wasted effort." Oskwell had a truly unhealthy amount of mixed thoughts running through his mind right now. As his jumbled mind attempted to sort through for any kind of expected response, Tournes continued to talk. "Handicapped. Unsightly disfigurements. Hair of a beggar. Smell of a... I don't even know. This a sight nothing short of shameful, Orsell," Tournes said, sighing, "At least you didn't show up with a dragon on your shoulder." Oskwell nodded in response, thinking about the many better ways to respond to such a casual approach from a man that he both thought of as some kind of father figure and felt content with never seeing again. Tournes bent at the waist to get a better look at the comparatively small hyur. Tournes may have been old, but the signs of a life of rigorous duty still showed in his body, toned and stocky, at least as stocky as an elezen could look. Oskwell returned the look, trying his best to read the face of his mentor. "I... can't tell whether or not you're happy to see me," Oskwell said. "I am quite happy to see my former pupil," Tournes said, "the very same pupil that my time with was cut short, and the same pupil that actually showed a sliver of promise." Tournes continued, his face contorting into a disapproving glare in Oskwell's direction. "I am also disgusted by the sight of a deserter that now stands before me a speech-impaired brigand cripple, so right now those two feelings are clashing, as I'm sure you can imagine." Tournes turned to walk back towards the rock at the end of the clearing, reaching over into a leather sack to pull out a hatchet. "The firewood isn't gonna cut itself." Oskwell had forgotten how sore repetitive manual labor can leave the body. The activity took a toll on his body just as much as a heated session of spear training, which his body had long since adapted to. At least when it was a solid afternoon of skewering mites, Oskwell had some room for flourishes, something to make the motions less repeated. Tournes had some vague cut of meat impaled on a stick to roast, while Oskwell laid flat against his bedroll, eyes staring up into the night sky. "Orsell, I take it you're not much of a dog person," Tournes said, Oskwell replying with a mumbled "Eh, not terribly..." Tournes nodded in response, scarfing down the cooked meat, then looking over to the prone Oskwell. "Tell me, Orsell," Tournes said, "Did I ever teach you the first lesson?" Oskwell sat up, engaged all of a sudden. "Eh? Not that I know of. First lesson of what?" Oskwell said. "The first lesson of battle, of course," Tournes replied, "Know your enemy." With that, Tournes pursed his lips and let out a high whistle. Standing in confusion, Oskwell looked at Tournes for a good few seconds, his head then turning to the west, where he heard the quick and closely-paced footfalls. Too quick to be anything on two legs. He had a feeling he knew. Looking back to Tournes, Oskwell didn't have enough time but to take a single step forward before he felt something heavy plow into his side, accompanied by the telltale feeling of sharp, curved teeth breaking past his skin. Wolves. He'd brought wolves. Oskwell struggled to retrieve his knife from the underside of his discarded bracer before the second wolf sank its teeth into his thigh around the same time that the first's found their way easy past the tunic's cloth and into the skin of his shoulder. Oskwell looked to his left. Besides the wolf currently hanging onto his shoulder by its teeth, he saw the other wolves, roughly five or six from what he could see, heading for him. In front of him was Tournes, the elezen giving Oskwell his best blank stare. To his right was where the clearing transitioned to a steep hill, and what he saw as his best bet, moving to sprint for the drop-off as best he could with one of his legs weighed down by a full-grown wolf. On his way he reached down to grab his spear, as useless as it was in the situation at hand. As his foot hit the edge where the mostly-flat ground ended, Oskwell lurched back, then threw himself forward with all his might, catapulting himself out and down the hill. With the first bounce, Oskwell hit the ground in such a way as to fortunately plow the wolf gnawing at his leg side-first against the ground, dislodging it, the beast's side scraping against a rough patch of sharp rocks. The pained cries of the first wolf disappearing into the distance as Oskwell tumbled further and further down the hill. Although his body was turning and spinning far too fast for Oskwell to get an idea of exactly where he was in relation to the hill itself, he heard the rushing of water growing louder with each painful impact against the snow-covered soil, and was able to make out just enough of a brown-and-white consistent streak to realize he and the wolf still lodged onto his shoulder were headed directly for a tree. It was at this point that Oskwell thought about how nice it would be if he hadn't been caught off-guard by the pack, and also how nice it would be if he didn't die a painful death here. Luck was on Oskwell's side. Mostly luck, at least. With as much manuevering as the man could manage in his current flailing state, the impact against the tree came with the sickening-yet-victorious sound of the remaining wolf being caught inbetween the speeding hyur and the tree trunk. The beast's spine released an audible crack that was quickly drowned out by the far more audible whining and desperate screeches of the dying wolf. The impact wasn't exactly easy on Oskwell either. The wind had been knocked out of him completely and utterly whilst his vision was a nonsensical mix of spinning colors still. The sudden stoppage by the tree, whilst it retired the wolf had also exasperated his current wounds, the bites left by the fangs wedging their way into his flesh ripped further open. It wasn't over yet, however. As the ringing in his ears began to subside and his vision began to recover, he could hear the quickened footfalls, no doubt those of the remaining wolves. Though what dominated his hearing weren't the sounds of the wolves, but instead the rushing water next to him. He had come to a stop just a few fulms from the river. It was time to make a snap decision, and Oskwell knew this. Summoning the remainder of his strength, he rolled himself to the side, toppling over the edge of the bank and falling into the river water. His assumption had been correct, the river was deep and quick enough to shield his form from his pursuers. He could see the vague shapes of the pack raising their heads over the water as he was swept downstream, the shapes disappearing from his vision as the water grew darker.

I'm always looking out for villain characters in need of recurring adversaries. I think Oskwell might be a good fit, seeing as his most common area of operation is the Shroud, and that he often finds himself hunting various intruders into the area, such as voidsent. He also often is involved in high-risk adventuring and hunting jobs, and is still at least tangentially linked to the criminal underbelly of Eorzea through his sparse ex-bandit connections, so that might be something Vhali can get some use out of.

osk spends some much-needed time pressed up against his waifu