Gavriel

Yes! New stuff! I have to take a 48 hour hiatus more often. So much cool stuff happens when you don't try to stare down a kettle that just won't boil...

Now the sun began to sag lower in the sky. The cliff that protected Al'mian from the south also shielded it from the sun in the late afternoon. It became much cooler outside.

After the surprising Tirade given by Faythiel, Gavriel looked back at the bald man and smirked. "I think you underestimate just who you're up against." He put two fingers on the blade at his throat and slowly lowered it. "I'm hungry."

"W-what's going on!" a loud commotion was heard upsairs, "Was that some kind of explosion?" The old bartender stumbled down the stairs, "I thought I heard--" he paused when he entered the Tavern. Everyone turned to look at him. There was Gavriel with a knife at his throat, a giant troll-like creature stupidly gazing about the room, and several other strange guests, not to mention a heap bloody towels on the floor. "Ughhh..." He groaned and went back upstairs.

As soon as the three newcomers entered, Gavriel knew there would be trouble. The the bald man looked very familiar. Gavriel suddenly stood, his icy glare locked on the man. Could this really be Maestro, the Killer Conductor? Without removing his leering eyes, Gavriel approached to an uncomfortable distance, one hand resting easily on the hilt of his blade. "So. Who are you three?" Suddenly, a rumbling was heard in the distance. It almost sounded like a thunderstorm was approaching, but the effect was much more sinister. The earth itself seemed to shutter. It must have been an explosion. Gavriel instinctively turned his head to the door, briefly letting his guard down.

ARE you Eorzean? Can you get me into Beta? TELL ME!

"Have you any formal training?" questioned the Miqo'te. "Yes," he replied shortly. After several minutes of silence, save for Bear's grunting, Gavriel spoke again, this time very softly, "My Uncle was a surgeon and my mother, Llymlaen bless her, was a thaumaturge." After a long while, the surgery was done. Bear took the knife out of his mouth, smiled and moved his arm in a circle at the shoulder, "What are you two? White mages?!?! Hahahaha! Thank you both." "Did you just call me an old decrepit man?" asked Gavriel with a wry smile. "Miqo'te I didn't even catch your name!" Gavriel was about to thank her himself, but realized he didn't catch her name either.

Gavriel busied himself inspecting Bear's wound as the conversation between Bear and the journalist ensued. The wound had stopped bleeding thanks to the potion that the Miqo'te had given him. The journalist turned to Gavriel,"I'm sorry. I've been neglecting you. I missed your name outside." He responded coolly and seemed preoccupied, "My name is Gavriel. Gavriel Venitiago...." He didn't ask the journalist's name in return. After a bit of searching, the Elezen woman had retrieved all that Gavriel had asked for. He could read the veiled look of scorn on her face. "Thank you," he said, making eye contact for a moment. After a while, the young Miqo'te sell-sword reappeared and put her hand on Bear's shoulder. The journalist offered her a seat. "Would you like my assist?" she asked, "My stomach does not turn easily." Gavriel's attention returned, "Yes. Actually I would." His intense gaze rested on the Miqo'te, "I need you to hold his arm. He will flinch away from me no matter how dull this rum makes him. He might rupture an artery. This is very important." His rough expression seemed to fade as he spoke to her. His face was gentle his eyes were sincere. "Now Bear, you'll need this. Don't go biting your toung." He drew a knife from his belt and put the leather-bound hilt up to the Roegadyn's mouth. "Alright then!" Gavriel grabbed the two shots of foul whiskey in either hand. The first he gulped down with a satisfying grunt. The second he splashed onto Bear's open wound. He went to work.

Bear was able to stand, much to Gavriel's surprise. A wound that serious would have brought a lesser man to his knees within a matter of hours. Few men could survive long in the desert without water. Even fewer could survive without blood. This man had survived without either. He liked this tough Roegadyn. Gavriel followed Bear and Tadir into the Tavern. He sat across from Bear at the table. His order of rum and water was brought over by an Elezen woman dressed in a spectacular fashion. Gavriel then noticed that a Miqo'te was working in the kitchen and the elderly bartender was nowhere in sight. He raised his voice and shouted into the kitchen with a mocking tone, "It's about time someone killed that old man and stole his business. Things are much more interesting now." After a while of chatting and drinking, Gavriel rolled up his sleeves and put his elbows on the table emphatically, "As soon as you've finished that rum, Bear, I'll sew you up." He beckoned to the Elezen woman who was now cleaning sand from the floor, "If you would, grab me a pale of water, some towels, and the medical kit from behind the bar.... Oh, and two shots of the strongest stuff you can find."

(Shamad, your explosion is noted) Meanwhile, Faythiel had gone looking for the bartender. He was upstairs in his private quarters, snoring away. There was an ancient bottle of some awful-looking stuff tucked under his arm.

As Bear told his story, Gavriel noticed the Miqo'te walking towards them from the tavern. He had seen her around the camp before and knew she was a sell-sword. Most of the mercenaries at Al'Mian kept to themselves, and she was no different. "Are you badly injured, sir Roegadyn? Have you been tended?" Her voice was sweet. Bear put his fingers to the wound and clenched his teeth in pain, "Argh... it's worse than I thought... I'm going to need a lot of ale... Where's the nearest tavern?" Gavriel smiled, "You're going to need something a little stronger than ale, my friend." "Tabrett is it? If you would, head back to the tavern and tell the fat old man to put two fifths of rum on my tab. I I would guess my new friend here can hold his liquor." "Now Bear, lie back. You'll be fine." Gavriel used his thumb and index finger to peel back the Roegadyn's eyelids. His pupils were two different sizes. He probably had a concussion. "We'll fix you a few drinks and get you settled. This wound won't heal itself."

Very interesting. And no, it doesn't have to be a linkshell. If the main event was only once per week, everyone could participate in it, freelancer or not. I see the opportunity here.

I pretty much gave up on trying to figure out IRC. Oh well.

The bartender still seemed a bit flustered. After a week of only having two guests, the place seemed to explode with interesting characters. There was the mysteriously attractive Elezen woman with the seductive voice, the bombastic Hyur with who appeared to have just gotten the snot beaten out of him, a Miqo'te with surprising spunk, and two curious little Lalafell who clearly had an affinity for magic. He started to feel a bit light headed. "Please excuse me... I'm... feelin' a bit woozy. I'ma lie down... Do whatever you..... feel....whatever," he trailed off as he stumbled to the staircase. ((dramatic stage-cue to Aveline))

The Roegadyn plopped down on his rear end to Gavriel's left. After a few minutes the man spoke, "Thank you stranger... I don't know how long it's been since I've had anything to drink. I don't even know how long I've been out in the desert. Might I ask your name?" Gavriel glaced sidelong at his new companion before leaning to extend his hand in greeting. His accent was slight but distinctively foreign. "The name is Gavriel Venitiago. I'm a hired sword here. You've managed to find your way to Al'Mian. From the looks of you, it's a good thing you showed up when you did." After a moment, he asked his own questions,"What is your name? Do you often wander the desert alone?" Gavriel smiled a bit as he leaned back against the tree. He was enjoying himself now.

The bartender was a stalwart Hyur with dark brown skin, dark brown eyes, and graying hair. He looked to be in his mid-forties and had a large gut. Rarely was he the kind of man to let himself be swooned by a strange woman. "So what do you think,sugar?" He melted instantly at the word. The way the exotic Elezen woman looked at him was entrancing. "E-e-rm... Well. I-I suppose that would hurt business, would it?" he asked with a gruff voice. He hesistated for a moment, gaining his composure and a more inquisitive tone, "What kind of entertainment are we talking, anyway?" "Barkeep! Hurry it up!" shouted a bloodied Hyur from across the table. "Oh-oh, my apologize, sir." He mumbled something... ((I'm coming Bear!))

Who knows what will happen at the tiny desert oasis of Al'Mian

Gavriel heard the commotion but didn't bother to get up. The other guards would take care of it. He was on his break. He gave a heavy sigh and lay his head against the palm tree, humming a little tune to himself. A minute had barely passed before he heard heavy footsteps approaching behind him. "You there... beneath the palm... may I have a drink from your water pouch?" He said wearily while stumbling a little, "I... seem... to have lost mine..." Gavriel turned his head. It was an awesome sight. A large Hellsguard Roegadyn was leaning against his palm tree, blood dripping down his arm. His armor glistened in the sunlight. The crowd that had followed the wounded stranger had paused a few meters behind the two men, gossiping quietly amongst themselves. The unusually placid demeanor of the Roegadyn allowed Gavriel to keep his cool, "I've just drank the last bit, but I'm sure there's plenty of water in there..." He pointed to the waters of the oasis that lapped at his feet. Clearly the wounded Roegadyn was delirious. "It's not a mirage. Drink as much as you'd like."

The early morning sun had finally risen. A mighty dust storm had ripped through Al'Main during the night, leaving another six inches of sand covering just about everything in sight. That's just what they needed here in the desert. More sand. Of course, it was Gavriel's job to dig out the the tavern and the marketplace. He was good with a shovel. Of course, he was better with a sword, but those things never got used much around here. At least he got paid to do it. After several hours of labor, he had finally finished his task. The sun was much higher now and he was starting to overheat. Hard physical labor was something that was done at night in the desert, but sometimes necessity calls. Of course, he couldn't understand why he had to dig out the marketplace today, since it hadn't been used in over a week. Well... at least he was leaving today. He sat under a palm tree with his bladder of water and began to doze. He looked skyward and starred aimlessly into the blue. Suddenly he was awakened from his daydreams by the sound of unfamiliar voices.

The Setting: This story takes place several leagues to the south of Ul'dah within the small trading outpost known as the Al'Mian Oasis. As the name implies, Al'Mian is strategically located around a small watering hole that is essential for the survival of trade in the remote southern regions of Thalalan. To the east and west the outpost is protected by treacherous desert that extends for as far as the eye can see. To the north lies a sprawling flatland that eventually leads to the city of Ul'dah. To the south lies a rocky, mountainous region populated by tribes of Hellsguard Roegadyn. Al'Mian has been in existence for several generations in one form or another thanks to members of the Ul'dah Syndicate who regularly send food, supplies, and troupes of mercenaries to safeguard their interests. It is very common to see an assortment of travelers and merchants of all races passing through, especially the Dunesfolk, who must water their giant beasts of burden. (I lack the skills to draw the layout of the camp, so a description will have to do for now...) The Oasis itself is located in a shallow dip at the base of a treacherous cliff. The southern part of the camp is completely blocked by the cliff face, but it is easily accessed by any other route. The only road into the camp is from the north, which leads back to Ul'dah. However, Roegadyn and Dunesfolk with their beasts of burden tend to arrive unannounced from the middle of the open desert. There are three mudbrick buildings in Al'Main. The first is the tavern, which houses as many as twenty-five guests at a time with plenty of room outside for stragglers. Like any respectable tavern, there is a well-stocked bar and kitchen. There are a dozen tables as well as sitting room at the bar. The second building is the Marketplace. Here, traders may set up their own booths and sell their wares to fellow merchants and travelers. Al'Main is a crossroads for several trading routs and a quick deal can be easily made, without burden of taxes, before heading off to Ul'dah and beyond. The third building is the barracks. This small building houses a-dozen-or-so mercenaries who are hired to protect this vital trading rout. Seeing as how this area is so remote, the mercenaries tend to fight amongst themselves and drink entirely too much wine. The Plot Currently, the Al'Main Oasis is very quiet. There are only a few travelers staying in the tavern and the Dunesfolk haven't been seen for over a week. The soldiers are twiddling their thumbs and the barkeep is growing tired of staring at his empty tavern. Everyone is happy that they will be going home soon. The next group of tenants would be arriving from Ul'dah to take over the camp on the morrow... Participants: Gavriel Venitiago (Hyur) Bear (Roegadyn) Aveline Blue (Miqo'te) Shamad Conde (Lalafell Dunesfolk) Tadir West (Hyur) Faythiel (Elezen) Axl (Hyur) Tabrett Aldurren (Miqo'te) Dreamer Milcham (Hyur) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC The purpose of this thread is to have a place for we Ul'dahians(?) to officially introduce our characters into the Final Fantasy XIV Universe! Please feel free to join whenever you want. This is an open RP thread. I hope everyone has a blast! I will be keeping an updated list of everyone who is participating, as well as a link to their Character Archive page if they have posted one. This makes it very easy for folks to quickly look up who they are dealing with. The rules are located here: http://www.ffxiv-roleplayers.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=254

Yup, and I'm sick of that Roleplay too. "I was a slave/orphan! Raised rough, and beaten and whipped! I'm ashamed of my scars but... let me take off my shirt to show everyone, but DON'T LOOK AT THEM!" I think having scars became popular simply because it's one of the only "accessory" options we get in Character Creation (besides tattoos).

ewff. Anyway, besides my creepy encounters with lonely middle-aged women who constantly tried to rape my chracter in EQII, there was one who was different. She was the one who first introduced me to the Guild (The Vagabond Knights). Both of us played orphaned Wood Elves, so our characters were naturally drawn to each other and became good friends. As a result, we ended up becoming good friends. Almost every day we would do something together for a few hours. Generally this involved finishing a few quests and then going to some very scenic spot to just chat OOC about life. I started to think she had developed a little OOC crush on me. Of course, I had a little OOC crush on her as well. Nothing too crazy or anything. I just really enjoyed her company (and of course her wood elf bewbs were hot! ...kidding). Eventually I found out that her husband was also in the Guild. He started to get a little jealous of me I think (they were both in their early twenties by the way). After a while they both started logging in less and less. Anyway, I haven't seen this girl in a few years. I've always wanted to know where she got off to. Does she even still do role-playing? I have no idea. Windsoar! Where are yoooouuuu!

I might be buying a PS3 to play FFXIV in the Spring. I'll probably be in Israel and my new laptop might not be satisfactory. Hmm, ebay ebay...

I was thinking about Oschon, the Wanderer and Llymlaen the Navigator. Woot! Two!