Devyn Piper

Hello! First of all, greetings! Second, check us out! My main is a member of Wanderers & Exiles <> and we are often active into the later evening. Most of us are PST folks (I'm mountain right now, myself), and of those who aren't at least a couple are usually up and playing pretty late anyway. The FC tag below is a link to our site and you can also feel free to hit me up with any questions.

Welcome aboard, and good luck getting going!

Uh oh... here it comes... *clears throat* Where are average things made? ... In the satisfactory.

Zetchryn: I would strongly recommend using a third party malware scanning service, such as Malwarebytes, to make sure there's nothing nasty hiding out on your computer. This is in addition to any anti-malware or anti-virus software you have anyway, as different programs often catch different things. In my experience, malware LOVES to mess with your current anti-malware/anti-virus software by disabling it or making it impossible for you to change the settings - it's how it makes sure it can continue running around unchecked. I'm not saying that's necessarily the case here but better safe than sorry!

Okay, this is my kind of discussion. Love seeing all the answers here! My main, Devyn Piper, is a conjurer and some of this discussion is fairly important to how he became one and how he continues to practice as one. Please bear with me, as I tend to write in a scatterbrained fashion. Aetheric Source - In addition to what others have said (mostly Gegenji) I'd like to mention that I believe all jobs/classes draw from some internal reserve as well when they cast. What exactly does MP represent? Is it the body's capacity to channel aether without burning out? The actual pool of aether in one's body? I can't see it as the total amount available to you (other than those who draw solely from themselves such as summoner / scholar) because why wouldn't black/white mage have an infinite supply, or near as much as makes no difference? I've always thought of it like so: Every casting class draws on their own personal aetheric reserves to cast spells. No matter where the bulk of your power comes from you can't just hope really hard and have some external source do all of the work for you. You start the casting using your own aetheric reserves to open the proper link between yourself and your magic's source, which provides the rest of the oomph for your spell. I think of it like a car's battery. Does the battery provide the power that makes the car drive around? No. Can you start the car driving around without the power from the battery? No. Does this fit within actual game lore? I have no idea, but it makes things make sense to me. Focus/Weapon - Agree wholeheartedly with Gegenji on this. As far as casting with/without, I also RP the ability to cast minor spells without a specific focus, but require the higher end stuff or the more intricate/delicate stuff to need SOME kind of focus. For example: One of Devyn's friends was about to get into a stupid fight the other day and he used his innate casting ability - no focus - to conjure a fist-sized rock hovering over his hand so he could threaten to bean the first moron to try turning the argument into a physical fight. For higher end casting, however, he does need a focus. Being a conjurer these are fairly easy to find in one form or another, and I've RPed being able to use just about any natural wood in a pinch. Obviously it would be ineffective compared to a specially prepared staff or wand but in an emergency it could mean the difference between life and death. Is this actually plausible? I'm curious to know what the game says, but it does mention "unworked wood" somewhere so I thought it made sense that a conjurer, caught without his normal focus, could get a makeshift one out of nearby material. Just my two gil worth! [Edit: Sounsyy's post was not up yet when I hit reply to type mine. Always bringin' it with the lore! Feel free to tear my comments apart - I like being accurate.]

The current leadership of Oathless is taking a hiatus, though we're not sure how long he's going to be gone. Since this entry is pretty basic and bare-bones and we're looking to change it up soon anyway could we get this cleared out so we can just make a new one? Thanks much! I hope that's how we're supposed to go about this.

What would happen if someone used the phrase: "Irregardless, for all intensive purposes its a mute point"? I would, like, literally explode! In all honesty, I'd probably just cry. Loudly. While banging my head into my desk.

I transferred over to Balmung not long ago. Transfers are $18. You can transfer all characters you have on the source server to the destination server for one $18 transfer fee. All characters transferred must be at least three days old and have completed the very first tutorial quest the game forces you into taking. You can find more info on Square's site. There are also gil restrictions but it sounds like you're new enough that those won't be an issue. It has been well worth the transfer money to me. Am very happy here!

Yes, hellooo!

Hello, and welcome!

[For those who missed it and are interested, here's Away, Part 1 of From Sand and Ashes.] It wasn't hard to imagine how the forest got its name. It was both dark and cold beneath the canopy of the Black Shroud. Only the faintest trace of sunlight brushed the back of Ashwin Fowler's grubby neck as he crouched behind the brush, hiding himself from the sight of the several qiqirn who were making their way noisily through the forest. He'd run out of food days ago and in order to keep from spending what he'd earned that last night in Ul'dah he took to his old trade at the settlements along the route he'd chosen mostly at random. When he made it to Quarrymill he bought a set of clothes in the local style with what money he had left and nicked a bottle of brown dye to cover his distinctive pale blonde hair. Now, trying not to shiver in the sudden late fall chill as he hid from the beastmen, he found himself wishing he'd thought to get a blanket. The qiqirn continued on out of sight so Ashwin set off again, heading north. He passed through a network of caves and cellars he'd been directed to by a helpful stranger in Quarrymill -- one of ten different sets of directions he'd asked for in hopes of throwing off pursuit -- the echoes of his footsteps the only sound at times, while at others the bustle of activity was evident all around. When he was through to the other side he turned west, as he'd heard he could find farmland and hoped for an easy meal or two. A few bells later, Ashwin leaned up against the trunk of a large tree, legs stretched out before him as the wind rushed through the branches overhead, causing the leaves to rustle high above and the shadows they made to shift merrily about. It was a scene he'd never witnessed before, and he found himself fascinated by the play of light and grass here beneath the boughs of the massive -- well, whatever type of tree it was. Having lived in and around Ul'dah for the whole of his life he could count all the trees he recognized here in the Shroud on the toes of one hand. To make this particular late afternoon even better, the day had warmed considerably and the pear he now feasted on was quite likely the single most delicious fruit he'd ever had the pleasure of eating. He settled back further into the tree, closing his eyes as he took another bite of that magnificent pear. When he opened them again but moments later, there was a small, angry face mere ilms from his own. It belonged to a lalafel wearing a brown shirt, overalls, and a wide brimmed straw hat. "What's your name, thief?" the lalafel asked. Ashwin gathered his legs up, preparing to bolt into the forest like one of the several deer he'd spooked on his trek here, but all thought of that quickly faded as he noticed the lalafel's two companions. Directly behind the little one was another, larger farmer. This one was clearly a roegadyn and he held a pitchfork out in front of his body like a weapon. The other was an older hyur, and he truly was armed. He held a bow in his hands, arrow nocked and pointed directly at the now frightened Ul'dahn. "I asked your name, boy, and I want all of it," the small farmer repeated. "My friends would like to know, too, I think." Though caught off guard, Ashwin still had the presence of mind to come out with one of the many false names he'd given since that near-moonless night in the desert when the life he'd known had ended. "M-my name's Devyn. Devyn Piper."

One thing to note is you can transfer more than one character over at once as long as they all start from the same server. So if you want to have some alts stashed away for later, make them all right now and transfer them all over at the same time. You can do up to 8 at once this way, I think. MUCH cheaper than one at a time.

Ashwin Fowler had been at it for years, sneaking about and stealing minor amounts of food, gil, or whatever else he could turn into food or gil with minimal risk. He was comfortable in his work and knew how to blend in, how to lean on the counter while examining a shop’s wares and leave with an item in his palm, how to disappear around a corner no matter how near the pursuit. He’d been caught before, sure, but that was years ago and the consequences, like the culprit, had been small. Now... now he was observant,careful, smart. He wasn't a master thief, not by any definition of the word, but he had no desire to be. This was about survival, both for him and for his family. Turning, he slipped into one of Ul'dah's many alleys, this one linking the smaller side street he was on with Emerald Avenue. From either end it looked like any other alley but, by some quirk of building design Twelve knew how many years before, this one had a small alcove that was perfect for disappearing from sight. Crouching there in the deep shadows of the almost unknown alcove he reached into the pile of rubbish that had seemingly existed longer than his own 14 years and retrieved a small pack. From this he drew a waterskin, which he used to quickly wash his hands and face, and a fresher set of clothes than the beggars rags he wore. The youth changed and, now free from his disguise, emerged into the lamp-lit bustle of Emerald Avenue. [align=center]* * *[/align] The occasional calls of the local wildlife were the only sound competing with the crunch of Ashwin's shoes on the path as he turned towards the nameless settlement where his family kept their home. The darkness was near complete, the only light coming from the stars and a mere sliver of Dalamud hanging just over the horizon. He knew the path by feel as much as sight, however, and soon he found himself nearing the dark clump of huts and tents huddled in the shelter of one of Thanalan's many rocky outcroppings. No light flickered through windows or doorways as he approached - the people here were too poor to burn candles - but the sudden glow of a lantern in the direction of the house he shared with his family made him dart behind a nearby tent rather than press on. "That's enough, Fowler!" came the gruff voice from up ahead as Ashwin crouched there in the darkness. "We know it was one o' yer brats what nicked that bottle, an' we aim to have it back!" Ashwin felt the blood drain from his face and his heart sink into his stomach as he recognized the voice of Harald, one of the most notoriously corrupt Brass Blades. And the bottle could only mean the small bottle of medicine he'd taken earlier that night, thinking to have it on hand for when one of the family got sick. Only Harald and, yes, that smaller figure was probably his partner Nonokodo, weren't sent after potions or hi-potions. Whatever he'd pocketed was something much, much bigger than that. His fingers wrapped around it unconsciously and he realized he'd missed some of the heated conversation in his panicked reverie. Certainly, the fearful whimpers of his mother and the twins had grown in intensity. He knew he'd heard his father's voice as well, though he didn't know what Wermund Fowler had said. "-it back, we'll still take the price of it out on you lot!" It was Harald again, this time with a joy in his voice, and that was accented by the rasp of a blade leaving its scabbard. "No, you ca-" Wermund began to cry out, but that was all the protest he made before the shout was turned into a gurgle, and the whimpers of his family were turned into screams. Ashwin Fowler never knew what happened next. Ashwin Fowler - no, he'd need a new name now, wherever it was he was headed - couldn't hear a thing above the pounding of his heart in his ears and the pounding of his feet on the dusty desert rock. No, he didn't know where he was headed, but he knew exactly where he was running. He was running away.

Welcome to the RPC! I'm always happy to meet new people to RP with, so feel free to say hi if you see me on.

There are people RPing in the three major "taverns" almost constantly, especially at the Quicksand in Ul'dah.