LystAP

Night over the Mist - The waves lapped up against the shore of the Mist. Chakha sat on the beach, staring out at the ocean. In her hands, was a piece of driftwood she was in the process of carving with a knife. She reflected on her past few moons, what a strange journey it had been. She looked down at a letter from her Mistress, on it was a rather flowery apology. She tilted her head as she thought of the diminative girl. They were about the same age, although their relationship had been that of a master and servant. However, she did enjoy her summers with the girl and mayhap, she was a friend… if she deserved any aside from ajaa. She placed the letter inside her well-worn poncho, something she clung too from her past days. Mayhap it would be the perfect occasion to change, while stalking the markets of Hawker’s Alley, she observed a particular set of interesting objects. Objects… she mused as she adjusted the driftwood in her hands. The round head of the figure took shape and her eyes narrowed as she concentrated on the details. The wind blew past her head, lifting her dark-blue hair up as it caressed her light skin. If she spent more time out here, she may become as tanned as ajaa. --------- Behind the mansion, a loose formation of rocks could be seen. However, Chakha deftly moved about the rubble, carefully clearing away some rocks until a small opening could be seen. She was fortunate to find this small cave, located behind a large mansion of a FC known as the Fabled Few. She smiled innocently as she beheld the objects arranged neatly inside; a large damaged doll vaguely in the shape of a lalafell sat in the midst of a cacophony of weird “objects”. Numerous straw dolls with parchment written in Doman (translated as ZANZAN!) decorated the walls of the small shrine, a nail hammered into the midst of each one. On the ground, laid a mat of wool that had been badly treated, inscribed with various badly-drawn images of a lalafell in a a variety of robes, each undergoing some form of imagined torment. Better drawn reliefs are etched all over the ceiling, the paint infused with some form of aether-infused glow. There is a painting of what appears to be a oliphant trampling some sort of small person, while in another painting, a herd of antelope seem to be violently goring a similarly small figure. Leafs of parchment also saturated the small cave, each with various written curses in Garlean, Hingashian, Allagan, Eorzean Common and various dialects, such as Doman. The writing appears to be a random assortment of rants and diatribes against a individual, although the chaotic writing makes it difficult to ascertain if these documents were assaulting a person or a demon-from-the-seven-hells; however a universal association among these documents is “Z Y,” as inscribed and defined in the aforementioned respective languages. With a glee approaching that of a miqo'te dancer getting paid, she carefully placed the newly carved figure of a male lalafell into a slightly-glowing magitek stasis pod... filled with predatory spiders in suspended animation. A Hingashi curse, she recalled from one of her trainers. This pod now formed the centerpiece of her shrine of 'Dislike'. She had promised ajaa that she wouldn’t try to kill the little demon, but she did say she didn’t need to ‘like’ him. This cave is a testament to her ‘dislike’ of the little demon. His deceptive tears amidst his assaults, like he was plotting something devious for every action taken. She will never underestimate anyone, not again; after that first event with the Hellfist. She cannot kill him, but she can wait… surely ajaa would tired of him in time. She giggled lightly as the night wore on.

WoooO! Lalafells!

Hawker's Alley Harmony For now. Might switch events later for Zan's.

Tail Cleaning, Nyah! [slightly NSFW] Cinna stared at her tail. It has been glowing for sometime since the end of her journey into the catacombs of Ul’dah. She tried everything that she had learned in the world of Outsiders: cold baths, hot baths, soups and elixirs. However, her tail stayed glowy. The tip of the tail was slightly dull, but that was where her blue tip helped dampen the glow. However, the substance was holding fast, as stubborn as angry aldgoat. She eyed her glowing tail and lashed it briefly, as if trying to flick off the troublesome substance. There appears to be one alternative, as she licked her lips. A skill passed down her tribe, the Falling Stars, and of which seemed applicable in this circumstances. While typically used to negate foreign scent, it appears this may be the ideal opportunity to utilize her traditional skills. A predator needs to negate its scent; this is instinctual, and her tribe are among those in Eorzea whom are closest to those kinds of instincts. From a young age, Cinna and her half-siblings learn to lick themselves scentless; often smudging on dirt or snow or other things after, to further camouflage their bodies. Such tendencies might've been curtailed by civil living, such as baths, but so far those Outsider techniques have proven inefficient. She was alone in her room, the others had left to do their own things and no visitors were expected. Cinna walked up to the counter and took out two stone bowls, a stick with cotton wrapped around it, and a bag of herbs. She filled one of the bowls with water., while leaving the other empty. Cinna moved through the selection of herbs within the pouch, before choosing a few herbs and chewing gum. She plopped the herbs into her mouth and began chewing to stir their adhesive properties, then she began work on her glowing tail. The base of the tail was beyond her flexibility; however, the rest of it was within reach. She worked her way down from her pride, the blue tip at the end of her tail. At first, it seemed like it wouldn’t work, but slowly the material was removed as her ‘tongue’ implement worked. Her ears flickered playfully as she worked down the base of the tail, towards the very end of her reach. Every so often, she would stop and try to spit out what she accumulated into a nearby bowl. As she worked down, Cinna occasionally found herself hitting sensitive areas of her tail, and she grunted involuntarily as she cleaned those sensitive areas. Up and down, left and right, she thoroughly cleaned her tail of the foreign substance. It tasted weird, and her survival skills told her it was probably poisonous in large quantities. However, she judged that it wouldn’t be enough to harm her in any permanent or long-term way, and continued removing the substance with tongual thoroughness; like Angry Orrin at a night in the Quicksand place, scraping up random Outsider women. Soon, she had cleaned as much of the tail as she could, although the base of her tail eluded her flexibility, which was already considerable. She got up and spat as much as she could into empty bowl, before plopping the gum into her mouth. She chewed and moved the gum around as a means of removing any foreign material in her mouth; it was slightly different from the plant material she used back north in the sept, but Cinna determined that it was compatible. One needs to take risks, like S’imba always does. Her hands took the stick with cotton and she began wiping off her tail with the cloth; at times, she would unconsciously purr as she moved over the cleaned sensitive areas, it doesn’t appear that glowy at present. Occasionally, she would dip the stick into the water-filled bowl and let the residue clean off, before continuing. Finally, she looked at her now-groomed tail, and gave it a playful lash. Aside from small glowing at her tail’s base, it was largely cleaned off; the former could be hidden just by wearing a covering over it until she finally sheds the fur off naturally. She spat the gum, which was glowing… now. And plopped another wad of gum into her mouth, ears flickering, while emitting what vaguely sounded like purring. This mayhap take a while, but for now, she was clean.

[A well-written document, among a few maps and drawings, expertly stuffed in a discrete envelope. It appears the author (or a servant) is an professional at compressing space (and/or cheated with magic). There's also a faint smell of cake.] To my dear friend, Edda Eglantine I pray this letter finds you well, Edda. I have recently returned from a journey onboard a Maelstrom ship, where I encountered a series of unexpected occurrences. The ship was named the “Iron Bitch”, a notable representation of Limsan vulgarities. The ship is captained by a member of the Foreign Levy, a Captain Anstarra Silverain. I was also accompanied by ‘adventurers,’ a Miss Jana Ridah and a Miss Liadan. As a gesture of reconciliation for a recent wrong in Vylbrand, I was volunteered by the EATC board to serve onboard a Maelstrom vessel for a moon. We began our journey along one of the 9th Fleet’s typical patrol routes, sailing approximately south of the Rothlyht Sound. It was a routine patrol, one that both my father and the Limsan authorities agreed that my presence would cause minimum harm. However, once we passed by south of one of the major islands in the Sound, events turned unexpected. It was at that time a unnatural storm appeared; a Garlean gunship also choose the opportune to reveal itself at that time. Surprisingly, the gunship choose to assist our vessel that was caught in the storm. It was the Twelve’s favor that our ship was one of the few ironclad vessels with a magitek engine, and that we had sufficient supplies of ceruleum to run the engine, despite the recent shortage. We followed the Garlean airship towards shelter at a nearby island. However, we were engaged midway by unknown beast men, whom appear somewhat associated with the storm. [A map detailing a patrol route approximately south of the major island of three in the Rothlytht Sound. A circle and writing highlight points of interest, including the point of contact with the beast men and the island that the Iron Bitch took refuge.] Pray note that I called the storm unnatural. Miss Liadan, a conjurer from Gridania, at first attempted to avert the storm through her magicks. However, she apparently encountered interference in her spell, thus, attempted to use her magicks to determine the cause of the storm. As the storm hit the ship, we were assaulted by the beast men, whom dragged a few of the poor crew under the waves. Our crew engaged the beastmen and succeeded in driving them back, although a few of us were thrown overboard and had to be rescued. We managed to subdued a few of the strange beast men, and returned their corpses to Limsa for autopsy. I assisted in the preservation of the corpses, per my training at the Ossuary (a disagreeable skill for some, but one that is honored by the Traders.) [A relatively well-drawn sketch of a rather ugly-looking beastman is included with the letter. Highlighted with ink is the beast man’s weird looking head, distinct from that of a Sahagin.] After gathering a significant amount of aether, Miss Liadan succeeded in calming the storm. In the process of finishing her ritual, Liadan sensed that someone, mayhap something mechanical was behind the storm and the strange creatures that emerged from the depths. While it was a jested at the source being an Allagan device; after listening to Miss Liadan’s explanation, it mayhap be entirely possible that a relic of Allag was behind the storm, alongside the sahagin creatures, explained as be chimera. In regards to the Garlean gunship, apparently it belonged to a ‘Gloam’ defense cohort. I do not know where this Gloam is, but given the size of the gunship; I daresay it is in close proximity to the area, less they have a larger airship nearby as a fueling station. I am unawares of a Garlean outpost in the area, although I cannot say given my limited knowledge of their magitek devices. It assisted the Iron Bitch in escaping the storm. The legionaries within the gunship were apparently well-aware that the Iron Bitch was a Maelstrom vessel. After briefly conversing with their crew, the young man whom spoke to us was very cordial, despite the political relationship of our nations. They do not appear to have been awares of the nature of the storm, nor the ‘chimerical’ beast men involved. I pray once more that this letter finds you well, my friend Edda. I will be aways from this business, do be careful if you choose to intercede in this mess. I sense ominous events in the future, as Miss Liadan and the others also brought up the possibility of primal involvement. May the Traders grant you eternal prosperity, Edda. Sincerely, Hihisa Hisa

[A multitude of letters sent out from Ul'dah through a network of couriers and contacts. Eventually, the contents would reach its intended recipient, although it may be possible that some contents could be intercepted/] To my dear red-shirt man, I pray this letter will find you, under what circumstances you may find yourself within. I apologize for the means of this letter's delivery, but the lack of your real name made it difficult to be specific. Rumors are abound in Vylbrand and Thanalan, of rumbles in the east. I recently met the acquaintance of one Edda Eglantine, and we had a wonderful tea party where we exchanged dialogue. We discussed the ceruleum issue, and she contends that her family is innocent of any wrongful involvement and that given the volume of shipping her family is involved in, a single ship in Limsa is hardly of evidence for involvement by her family regarding an alleged ceruleum field. With what information I had, I found no reason to press the charge. She was very interested in the documents you left me. I found no reason to deny her a copy of such documents, given the vagueness of the evidence presented. She and I departed as friends, and I hope to continue correspondence with her in the future. As formal reconciliation in regards to a personal wrong, I recently boarded and went to sea on the Maelstrom’s ironclad, the “Iron Bitch,” captained by one Anstarra Silverain. Over the course of the journey, we encountered an unnatural storm. [A map detailing a patrol route approximately south of the major island of three in the Rothlytht Sound. A circle and writing highlight points of interest, including the point of contact with the beast men and the island that the Iron Bitch took refuge.] Within the storm, the Iron Bitch engaged a swarm of Sahagin-like beast men, of which we subdued a few and returned their corpses to Limsa for autopsy. [A relatively well-drawn sketch of a rather ugly-looking beastman is included with the letter.] On that ship, I was accompanied by Captain Silverain and her crew. There were also two other individuals present, a Jana Ridah, a conjurer by the name of Liadan. Liadan sensed that a mechanical device was behind the storm and the strange creatures that emerged from the depths, while engaging in her conjury magicks. It mayhap be possible that an Allagan device is behind the storm, alongside the sahagin creatures, which may be chimera. While I jested at the beginning, after hearing Miss Liadan’s statement, and upon a cursory examination of the beast men, I mayhap be closer to the truth than I had presumed. Of note, we encountered a Garlean gunship from a ‘Gloam’ defense cohort. It assisted the Iron Bitch in escaping the storm. The legionaries were apparently well-aware that the Iron Bitch was a Maelstrom vessel and I surmise that they assisted out of mayhap honest concern for fellow sailors, after briefly conversing with their crew. They do not appear to have been awares of the nature of the storm, nor the ‘chimerical’ beast men involved. I am unawares of a Garlean outpost in the area, although I cannot say given my limited knowledge of the range of their magitek devices. I hope this letter find you well, and that we may meet again in the future, I will be aways from this storm for awhile, as a means of self-reflection. Pray again, take care. May the Traders grant you fortune, Hihisa Hisa

Don't worry. SE says the horn grows back.

I'll sign up on Hisa, the "Rose of Nald"! Time to change!

Cinna for b) Violet Eyes! Looking for the others!

Shad art so pretty! :moogle:

Starfall, Return The lands of the Southern Thanalan have always been hostile; however, X’cinna Ares lived there for a few moons, as a member of the short-lived Bloody Prints sept. She remembered heading south, per the Nunh’s commands, under the incompetent head of X'yhulud, the sand dodo. Speaking of heads and sand dodos, X’cinna looked into her sack with a large grin on her face. ——————— The trip from Ul’dah to the Sagolii was relatively uneventful, wagon trains are a common occurrence from Ul’dah, past Little Ala Mhigo and towards Forgotten Springs. Her ‘reunion’ with the Drake tribe was tense, but unimpeded; apparently one of their own had returned with a new mate from the Golden Prints Sept. The Drake tribe seemed to have largely moved on; as expected of a tribe that believed in and worshipped the hunt. In addition… X’cinna spotted a Drake huntress lecturing another woman, while it appears typical, X’cinna’s ears briefly shot up in surprise and she approached the duo. “… U'khenova was five, ten times the huntress you are! To think we lost to you and that other bitch…, you should be glad our Nunh took mercy on your useless hide or I would have taken my time as well! You belong to US now! Your useless legs mayhap more use as fodder, you beast.” The Drake huntress moved to continue on, but her ears perked as she detected X’cinna's wholly-casual approach and she turned her head, and frowned deeply, “One of your bitchy sisters came back. Last I recall, they tied all of you up and brought you to be sold off in Ul’dah.” X’cinna bowed per greeting, which seemed to slightly surprise the Drake huntress, “Mighty fine day to meet you, huntress of the Drake.” The Drake huntress frowned and proudly sneered, “That’s U'lamana to you, beast.” The other woman just shrugged and looked at X’cinna, “Hello X’cinna.” Cinna looked at the women, with white hair and blue highlights, as well as the remnants of very deep scars across her body; it also appears half of her tail was missing; her previously folded back ears lift up slightly as she addresses Cinna. “I’ve seen you’ve been maintaining a ‘rocky’ relationship with the Drakes, sister,” Cinna states with a smug smirk. ———— The trip to Camp Nowhere was relatively uneventful, an occasional sand worm here and there, no match for the escorts and X’cinna, who came to rather enjoy sandworm meat from her previous visit here. Camp Nowhere remained operational due to the aetherlyte at its core, a cost-cutting method by the Syndicate. A few days away, Rock Falls was still relatively deserted, haunted by the shadows of the past. A congregation of the Order of Nald’thal had set up a small tent in the area, utilizing void-suppressing rituals. The caverns were still in the process of being surveyed with rumors abound about possible mythril deposits. However, the former void-presence appears to be slowing the surveyors, whom proceed at a snail’s pace escorted by the mages of the Order; at least until the Syndicate moves less safety (and sanity) minded surveyors to the area. While her presence lifted more than a few eyebrows, most of the original garrison had transferred out back north with the Flame Captain. It took more than a little flirting and social experience she obtained in the city to get the information she desired, but ultimately, she set off for a certain patch of dunes near Camp Nowhere. It was dusk by the time she started digging with the tools she brought from the Ravens dwelling. The freezing desert winds felt refreshing to a huntress born in the snow. After digging, and shifting, a few false leads and the remains of other half-brothers and half-sisters, she finally found her mummified prize. His face was still contorted into a look of surprise, X’cinna did a joyous pose as she looked upon the head of the sand dodo, X'yhulud. Spraying an alchemical chemical she borrowed from the Ravens, this may allow her to bring the head back north without further decay; it was important that the sand dodo kept his expression after all. ——————— As X’cinna went north towards her old home, memories drifted past her mind. She had been this way a few times, towards the so-called Camp Glorious, where the Outsiders had made their footprint in the lands of the Nunh. She sat on a caravan, whom she gained permission to travel with by virtue of being one of the natives of the region, a technical truth. Sitting by her side was a lalafellin woman, which reminded her of that Dederu Deru, a rather fancy looking tiny Outsider… lalafell, whom she served as a adventurer. The lalafell, Rarani Rani, ranted, “… you think they’ll accept our wares! I mean they say there’s dark steel deposits up here, stuff people down here wait to get. I’m sure your people would love to learn from our smiths and get your hands on good steel! You must be sick of bones and rocks, aren’t you?!” X’cinna nodded, not wholly paying attention to the lalafellin woman. Her tail swirled as she recalled her journey so far, all that she had done, and might continue to do… She still worshipped the Nunh of the Falling Stars on some level. However, it wasn’t as strong as before. Rather, she had found more interesting things in the world of Outsiders than she expected: shiny things, tasty things, hot things, sweet things and sad things. She has been having ‘fun’, as the Outsiders define the topic, and learned the power of ‘cute’ through Anista, Nikha, Evangeline, and the others. But why does she still return? She does not have an answer, not yet at least. The caravan finally arrived at sleepy Camp Glorious. —————— X’cinna entered a tent with her tail puffed high. Sitting there on the other end, with a rather feathery-hat given to him by a opportunistic Ul’dahian, was X’indro Tia. He was reading a book, and two of his shieldbearers were nearby, apparently gossiping over a picture book of last moons’ fashions. “Ah, Cinna my wayward sister! I thought I told you to wait for the Nunh? Or have you returned to oil my chest with your liquor?” He fired a shitty grin at her. Cinna smirked back, “Nay, I’ve come for a temporary trade. I want to find someone, and in exchange, I have a gift!” She reached into her sack and brought out the sand dodo’s head. X’indro laughed with a look of childish glee, “This must be what the Outsiders call Starlight!” He bounced up as X’cinna tossed the sand dodo’s head towards him. He catches it and dramatically poses with the head held high. ”What fortune! It’s been a long time my good X'yhulud! Mayhap the last time we needs part! I”m glad you look as surprised as I!”

I could sub with Hihisa Hisa on And Now the Storm-Blast Came.

I am of the opinion all PCs have the Echo in some form. How else do we explain people turning up to certain events undelayed, such as scheduled RP? How else could we explain people learning languages in a month or so? How aren't most players dead from random disease or other senseless maladies afflicting Eorzea? Thematically, it's just something that can exist or not, wholly dependent on the people you RP with. It's not like the Echo is a power that suddenly makes you Superman.

Aigiarn Khan wants to be there! She'll be useful! And NOT DO ANYTHING STUPID!

Mysterious Happenings in Limsa - Post-Battle of the Gilded Ship The night shimmered as the moon reflected in the night, a group of hooded figures alongside a few local drunks could be seen moving about. Chanting “Vengeance for Hellfist!” in a semi-drunken fashion they moved towards Swiftperch. The lights flicked briefly and went out, “Huh?,” one of the figures stated… and noisy chaos, then nothing… the light came on and only bodies remained, their wounds cuts on the neck. By the morning, local wildlife had mutilated the bodies further and the scene was discovered by a chocobo wagon bound for Swiftperch. The Maelstrom investigated the incident and assigned the blame to nearby Serpent Reaver activity. The Maelstrom would remind citizens to travel during the day and/or under armed escort. ——— “Me will see you lasses later,” declared a large Roe leaving a modest looking home. “Me’ll be back after the protest,” he stated to the two former prostitutes, “We’ll be waiting, hun.” “Why are you bothering with them bunch?” one of his wives stated. The roe looked back, “We got to take Limsa back from the big crews, from the leashed dogs (rogues), and remind the admiralty just where the red that dyed th’a flag came from! And me intends to show me and mine support to these Hellfist fellas!” He smiled lewdly at them and waved to head off. Only after a few yalms, did he turn back and his eyes widened. The house was on fire. “NO! ME LASSES! ME SONS!” He screamed and ran towards the house, just as he broke down the doorway, he felt a prick on his neck… and feel face forward into oblivion. After the fire consumed the home, the Yellowjackets investigated and concluded that the fire was caused by a malfunctioning ceruleum oven. Formally, officials warn citizens to avoid using alternative fuels for their magitek devices (such as beer), in lieu of actual ceruleum. ——— A hallway full of shouting Limsans and well-doers, pounded against the magistrate’s door at Aleport. The magistrate adjusted his spectacles and looked out at the crowd. “Justice for Jenny!’, “Privateer Justice Now!”, and similar slogans were painted on the signs. He sighed and turn around towards the Yellowjacket officers standing in the halls, “I want these fools away by the next bell!,” he stated, looking back at the crowd, full of workers from the nearby docks. They had come to protest the admiralty’s recent legislation restricting the privateer license process, as well as a recent increase in taxes drawn by the military buildup by Baelser’s Wall. As he turned around to regard his officers, a sudden crash could be heard outside, alongside mass screaming. “Nymeia’s Teets! Report! REPORT DAMNS YOU!” Harbor News Report: A section of the retaining wall around Aleport collapsed on a protest by local citizenry, against recent restrictions in the issuing of new privateering licenses as well as a general tax increase levied by the Admiralty. Casualties were moderate, five dead and ten wounded. Ultimately, the cause was identified as general wear-and-tear of the retaining wall, which suffered recently from a Sahagin seaborne attack. The foundations were found to have been weakened, although the sanctioned repair company argued that the foundations were structurally sound the last time that they were evaluated. ——— A group of farmers working the field outside of Summerford, “Me thinks Hellfist was a victim of the Admiralty, they probably paid that Simb’a Fuckintia a good amount of gil to silence that Jenny,” states a worker, the workers around him nodded their heads. “All this patriotic activity, it be mummery. Mummery so that the Admiralty can put all else into lockstep, like we be Garleans or somewhat!” The group cheers. “If me knew about Miss Jenny back then, me would have join their crew and show that Admiral’s lapdog, Fuckintia, what he should really be #(@#$*,” roars of laughter accompanied that statement Afterward, they sat down for lunch while talking about their plans for protest. A choke, than many more. Latter, a foreman discovered the bodies of the dead workers. Apparently, they drank from a shared barrel of wine. Inside the barrel, the corpse of a deadly viper was found. Authorities determined that the snake slithered into the barrel and drowned, poisoning the beer. ——— Two small figures ran through the street, from a distance, they appear to be children, but closer examination identified them as lalafell. “Hurry! It’s behind us!”, they continued to scamper in the rain. Turning left, right, left, left and right… they head into alley and find themselves trapped at the end. “No good! We gotta go back..!” A sharp whirl whistle in the air and one of the lalafellin women fell to the ground. Closer examination found that she was dead, “OH MY GODS, YOU KILLED KEKENY! YOU BASTARD!”, the other lalafellin woman roared in a rage and unsling her axe to face their mysterious pursuer. A brief clang of steel rung out, then gurgling, then silence. In the morning, a local boy discovered the corpses of the lalafellin women. There was signs of a battle, but ultimately the Yellowjackets dismissed the case, citing lack of evidence and the fact the two women were known as local vandals with a long-list of possible assailants, including a theft that violated the Rogue’s Code. ——— Hidden in a cove, was the vessel, Night Plunder, now Hellfist’s Revenge. What remained of the crew sung chanties and slogans, alongside local supporters from the Summerford Farms. The crew had brought some of their families and curious onlookers into the ship and they worked alongside their husbands, wives and children to keep the ship in tip-top-shape, alongside unveiling a banner they planned on showing in a sail by Limsa. A sentry overlooking the cove turned and caught very briefly movement in the rocks, but further investigation turned out nothing. As night fell, the families gathered onboard the ship, singing more chanties and generally enjoying each other’s company. “Ship ahoy”, a sentry called out and the deck swarmed with activity. They had been discovered, but by who? A sudden BANG was heard in the distance, and a volley of shells slammed into the ship, slaying indiscriminately. The crew attempted to bring up a white flag of parley, but another volley cut impacted the deck, beehive shells inspired by adventurer designs ripped into the spoken upon it, slicing men, women and children alike into mincemeat. Another volley slammed into what remained of the ship, igniting what remains of Hellfist’s Revenge into a blazing splintered inferno. Later, the ship responsible for the vessel’s destruction was identified as registered under the Foreign Levy. The Maelstrom Command received a very detailed tip about renegade pirate activity along the Middle to Western La Noscea shoreline, a place reputedly full of shipless pirates and Serpent Reaver activity; the 'Serpent’s Folly', under the command of Loriri “Balls-hacker” Riri, entered the area and intercepted the alleged renegade pirate ship. She reported that the vessel was destroyed, with no survivors, after failing to submit to the Galadion Accord and Limsan justice.

A single step… every one with a burden. The Thanalan sun shone overhead as the adherent stepped forth… one by one. Under the unflinching eyes of onlookers and alert guards, a re-enacted punishment for a daughter of Ul’dah. It went so wrong… However, she was still a scion of Ul’dah. And she must always be aware of her breeding and responsibilities, for good or ill. “I am disappointed in you.” The first and only words stated by her father upon her return from Limsa. She stared blankly first as he walked away, surrounded by panicking retainers and managers. She continued to stare in his general direction as he disappeared into the doorway out the streets. Shock ripped through her body, whom never has known such emotions of distress. Her heart felt as if it stop and her body quivered, her eyes shimmered and she fell to the floor. The guards had left the area, accompanying her father, but the glum lighting seem to reveal shadowy figures, like a jury staring down a guilty defendant. Tears dropped down from her emerald eyes, splattering the marble floor of the spire with her regrets. In the middle of the hallways, she did not appear the confident daughter of Hihijewa Cacajewa, heir to the family’s magical legacy, but a miserable creature curled up in a web of her own making. It is said superior breeding created a superior individual, but Hisa felt anything but superior. Even in Ul’dah, where everyone presumed that each individual was responsible for their own lot in light, the aristocracy persisted, although now determined by wealth, alongside blood. Many of the old aristocracy were part of the Royalty Faction, and the power of the Monetarists grew regardless of the walls thrown up by the old nobility. Hisa’s brothers and sisters have gone their way, and she as the youngest, sought to make her mark on the world. The sinner continued to walk. Every step with purpose, yet growing weight on a body unused to prolonged physical activity. The crowd jeered at her, watching a highborn of Ul’dah brought low, throwing mud and objects at her. The Blades largely kept them back, if she were to fall, it would be through the own limits of her body. Some of the Blades sneered as well, sure of her failure. In the end, it ended like this, in a moment of youthful panic and implicit arrogance. With one panically order, one confused officer, and one volley of powder, the fate of her father and all that her family built, stood on the precipice of the world of darkness. She recalled the angry rebukes from her siblings, the glaring stares of their retainers; she recalls her brother’s angry, but smug sneer, directly at her. Her heart was grinded and crushed as her father mouthed the words, his eyes looking into her face and dragging her soul into the seven hells. She curled up on that dirty floor, her gold dress wrinkled and her veil dropped to the floor, as her pride, her large glorious pigtails, flowed out of their bindings. The light reflected off her blonde hair, damped by black highlights. The display contrasted with her face, tears streaming down, makeup twisting with liquid and sorrow as she cried in despair. Her lalafellin features curled with her body, creating a vision of a sorrowful curse doll from the Far East as she sobbed for a bell, then two, laying on the floor like the peasants she had looked down upon. Her cries rebound off through the halls, the voice sounding upon a statue of Nald’thal. The Traders have their way of equaling the scales for the conceited. She panted, but never broke her stride. She slowed down at points, but continued onwards regardless. The sun rose and fell, as replaced by the moon, and the cold Thanalan night. The crowd gradually dissipated; while it was amusing to watch a supposedly pampered daughter of a Monetarist punished, her name was barely of note in the wider scenes. The next day, a big Coliseum event drew most of the onlookers, leaving only grumbling Blades and herself, a sinner trotting the steps of sin. Hihisa looked up at the door of the Chamber, where the Executive Council of the Eastern Aldnarld Trading Company met. Lolorito himself was absent, gone on business, but his aid was present, alongside a special link pearl connecting him with Lord Lolorito. Alongside representatives of every subsidiary, the actual heads couldn’t be bothered with the pleas of a low-level executive, even though she was partially to blame for the fiasco. She was dressed in a jet-black traditional tunic, none of the gold-threaded robes she wore during the Limsan Disaster. Hisa was still dressed in relative finery, she could still not embarrass herself in front of those who would decide her father’s fate.“Madam Hihisa Hisa, you may enter,” A stern Brass Blade stated. She took a breath, adjusted her long-flowing pigtails, and entered the room. Eyes centered at her figure, it was intensive; the pressure could be felt physically, and it took all of Hisa’s breeding and training to remain standing. She scanned the room and identified persons of interest, those who would benefit from her father’s removal, those who still supported him, placing the fault on the person before them. “Miss Hihisa! You come here to appeal on your father, Hihijewa Cacajewa’s behalf,” spoke the aid of Lolorito. “Indeed, good ser,” she curtsies promptly. “What do you argue?” he spoke promptly and briskly. Hisa bows before the committee, “I ask that you reconsider the decision to remove my father from his position as president of EADI. The actions of the Limsan Incident are not his… it was my own independent action, created by my inexperience and loss of self-discipline.” “But it is true that Mr. Hihijewa appointed YOU as the field manager of EADI’s Limsa Division, and it was under HIS auspices that a ship of the Sultana’s Fleet was dispatched to Limsa during such times,” the aid retorted. With each statement, Hisa slightly flinched as the aid’s words rammed into her psyche. “Above all, it can be questioned as to the whole purpose of the dispatch! What reason was the ship sent, other than to shore up his own personal interests, represented by YOU, outside of the intent or vision of the EATC!” A sun has past, but she continued her punishment, the crowd largely gone, only members of her own retinue remain. It was strange, why are they still here? She was nothing now, another sinner serving her penance. However, many of her servants are here… are they mocking her? Mayhap… but their faces lacked any sign of sneering or disdain. Hisa clunched her fists, her hands, normally soft and silk, have become slightly callused, quite quickly she might add. “My lords and ladies, there is a reason for the deployment of the ship to Limsa. Mayhap, you’ve heard the rumors regarding the ceruleum shortage in Limsa, or the influx of magitek household goods into the common market - outside of the EATC’s or Syndicate control?” Hisa stated. “Yes and?” the aid spoke dismissively. Hihisa continued,“It appears the magitek goods originate from a wide variety of vendors throughout Eorzea; however, the ceruleum that fed them comes from an alleged ceruleum deposit in the Sea of Jade.” Hihisa continues onward, “One red-shirt man, and accompanied by a Aya Foxheart of the Quicksand, contends that there is a ceruleum field located in the Sea of Jade, currently under contest. There is evidence that Gridania is involved.” Hihisa held up a pile of documents in her hand, pieces of a ledger from her meeting with the red-shirt man, and handed it over to the committee aid. He passed it over to the aid, whose lalafellin eyes briefly scanned the pages, and his eyes briefly widen, before reverting to their normal shape. Hihisa noted this and her spirits soared somewhat. She continued, “There has also been sightings of a mechanical beast in the area, the red-shirt man contends this is a Garlean-construct. I surmise a mammet-like underwater machina that hunts down ships in the area. This may have implications for Ul’dah and EATC’s Far Eastern trade.” Whispers could be heard among the committee, as well as into the linkpearls of the various aids and representatives around the room. The aid, after finishing his discussion with the other end of his link pearl, realizes that the others were also whispering all around the room, signaled for silence. The silent conversation continued regardless and he had to bang the ebony wood table to get the attention of the other representatives and aids. It was a wonder she could move still. She had an advantage that the namesake of this path did not, she was a Thaumaturge, expert at manipulating the aetheric energies within herself. Her training unconsciously helped maintain and ration her body’s dwindling aetheric reserves. Mayhap the consigners of this fate did not believe she truthfully passed her studies. Nevertheless, this was still a punishment, and a throbbing pain was persistent throughout her body as the aether that sustained it was exhausted by persistent repetitive activity. “These findings are of interest to the Eastern Aldernald Trading Company, and of value to our future planning. But they do not absolve you nor your father of your blat violation of the Sultana’s grace and our Alliance relationships,” the aid declared, adjusting his glasses dramatically. “But you say they are of use! If you were to condemn my father, you would lose one of your most experienced managers, with extensive experience of our Far Eastern trade routes! My family has been in the naval trade for generations! When all else were still bribing the Ala Mhigans, our family braved the Limsan pirates for the riches of the Far East!” Hihisa retorted. “My family have served Ul’dah for generations! And now you want to throw them away as refuse! My family will survive this. Our knowledge is bound to Belah’dia and the /Legacy/ that came before, it is knowledge that cannot be priced!” [Hisa spoke with conviction, determination and a hint of desperation. “Even if you throw them out! My family will wait in the shadows, for moons or generations mayhap, but they will return to our place in the jewel of the desert! Silence fell over the chamber, the committee members simply stared at her. After talking into his linkpearl, the aid shrugged. “That will be all, Miss Hihisa Hisa. Please wait in the lobby while we discuss our options.” In shock, she curtises once more and leaves the chamber. The wait was long, and every moment, her heart pounded against her chest. Her lalafellin skin was covered in goosebumps and her legs slightly shook. It was strange… what she dreaded the most now, was what would happen to her family. Her beloved father of course, but also her mother, and even her siblings, whom she saw as competitors. Her father emerged in her mind, a jolly fellow who always looked out for his employees. A rarity among the often-stereotypical caricatures of the Monetarists, barring the upper members of the Syndicate, such as the Prioress, and the incomprehensible Manderville. A eternity passed and the words came, “Miss Hihisa, the Committee will see you.” Hihisa Hisa, a sinner under the Traders, consigned herself to her fate. “Miss Hihisa Hisa, minor executive of the Eastern Aldernald Distribution Inc., you are hereby demoted to entry-level manager and Ser Fufurito be forced to give up his previous and ongoing bonuses, however, he shall retain his position in the EATC, upon successful completion of a punishment selected by committee and with Lord Lolorito’s recommendations. If you fail to accomplish said punishment, you and your father will be removed immediately from the employment of the EATC,” the aid declared. He then read out the chosen punishment, “Do you accept this contract?” Hihisa stood there for a moment, before stating,“I do.” The Eighty Sins of Sasamo, the memory of a daughter of Ul’dah who was punished for plotting to seize the throne. Mayhap it was a fitting punishment for a daughter who plotted and failed to seize the limelight, the depths of her mind mused. She walked and walked and walked, and at last, she reached the end of her journey, not a single step missed, not a single sin forgotten. Two suns had past. Two suns was the punishment. Only treason against the Sultanate allowed more. Her punishment was conducted in public, so not only could the citizenry see her repentance, but so would the other members of the Alliance. It was noted that she completed the punishment without complaint, without hesitation, nor any behavior that the populace expected of a supposedly spoiled rich girl. Nevertheless, with war looming over the border, new crises and gossip popping up all over Eorzea, the event barely warranted a footnote in the Mythril Eye. That said, the event did note a bigger section in Limsa, although the artist’s bias and self-image of lalafells twisted Hisa’s image into a one substantially different from her true natural doll-like face. Hihisa Hisa looked out over the city from the top of her family's spire, the cold Thanalan wind blew past her face and her precious long-pigtails blew in the breeze. She was dressed again in her golden dress, the reflective surface reflecting the city lights. Her legs were still wrapped in bandages, and it was a medical miracle she could still walk, despite essentially being starved of food and water for two days climbing the Sins of Sasamo. Her aetheric training proved a boon, worth the days when she had entertained the notion of paying her way to success. Nevertheless, as in the past, there was no shortcut to the desired future; all needs to be achieved with her own hands. For this, another change is needed. From her golden robes a dagger was drawn forth, not unlike one used by her serv... her friend. She needs to re-established contact. As another wind blew, she brought the dagger up and sliced off her beloved pigtails. As the blonde hair blew away in the night, she looked up at the moon. "And so we begins again..."

Chakha for Bring Your Best Suit: Hehe.

Give Cinna, A! Or if Zan means A, B! NYAH! She don't want to see Indro's ugly mug so soon.

Sign Cinna up for a Proper Container. Everything else appears too aether explodey for her.

Limsa Lominsa - The Night Before The night before the trial. The city was silent, unnerving, like a graveyard after a burial. The festering underbelly of Limsa’s shadows flicked around the darkness, like carrion vilekin skittering and feasting in the damp recesses of a long derelict hull. Tomorrow, a man will be tried under a crimson banner; vicious untamed wolves feasting under the sham of a trial. Chakha was familiar with the like, guilty or innocent, it didn’t matter to these savages. The outcome of the trial was clear, any master of shadows can taste the tension in the air. She walked the streets shrouded by shadow, among silent whispers and drunken shouting of the filth that skittered through the rotting decks. Her horn shudder and she briefly looked up at the towers of the city-scape, it was only for a moment, but she continued on, uninterested in the petty crimes of the city, such as vandalism. Although, it reminds her of a time a centurion caught a Ala Mhigan Resistance member openly writing badly phrased graffiti in old Garlean. It is said the imperial centurion forced the insurgent to rewrite the graffiti in proper Garlean grammar from dusk to dawn. She passed a group of housewives walking home with a escort from the Sanguine Sirens, they were in discussion about what clothes they should wear for the inevitable hanging of Morris. It appears be a family event, alike the spectacles of Noxis in the Coliseum. She preferred the Order of Nald’thal’s executions, often a simple toss off Highbridge for the condemned. She moved towards the Aftcastle and noted a few individuals encamped at the area, willing to spend the night to save a place in the crowd overhearing the trial. She cased the area, noting potential hiding places she spotted from her earlier reconnoissance of Limsa. Chakha smiled under her cloak and her right hand grasped a handle. A newly constructed pistol, single-shot, but very alike the pistols utilized by the pirate scum of this nation. She learned an ideal use from that riot a few suns ago, a match for the tinder calling for blood to mend a wound. Her smile twisted further as she recalled her daggers slipping into the back of Zanzan, the Despised One. Mayhap he’ll appear, and she would have the opportune to finish her work. She has changed, since meeting with Emee. Was she trying to save her sister? Was she ridding the world of a evil voidsent? Mayhap. Or mayhap it wouldn’t matter at all. Her colors were twisted into a void that demands affirmation, a wound that needed to be mended. She giggled softly as she backed up against a railing near the Aftcastle, leaning back and dive into the ocean, a soft splash unheard by the twisting tension that may only be sated by blood.

Sign up a new moon catte for No Longer Ignored!

http://imgur.com/a/8z4fG Lalafells, if you want breadth! My lalafell is the bottom one with the blonde hair, although you can do the NPCs too if you want to draw them. :moogle: Lalafell master race!

I can sign up for both. Maybe Hisa shows up to sneer at Limsans, or Chakha comes looking for Lalafell and/or see what's happening.

X'cinna will come. To see what else needs to stabs. *Nyah!*

Wooo! Murdercatte Picture! X'cinna is always ready to give Outsiders murder love. :moogle: