DAISHI

I think the lesson for any one -especially aspiring writers -is that you can't be entirely original. It's your presentation that matters. I'm going to go back to my 15-person demon example. If that 15th demon possessed person comes along, I'll just sight and be like "whatevs" at first. But if they do it well, I'm going to want to listen up and participate.

Actually some people could probably try a lifetime at being good artist and wouldn't be. Different wiring of the brain. Different inspiration.

Posted this at TALES and now here. Basically, what are you working on, non FF? Genre: Science Fiction (Space Opera, Hard Science Fiction, Space Science Fiction) Title: Erischan: First Mission (Erischan comes from the dynastic ruling family of the imperial nation) Major Powers and Territories: Erischan Empire; The League of States (Empire and League are akin to U.S. and Russia in opposition. Tentative peace); The Holy Land (Stretch of space dedicated to the Church of Saldania); The Corporate Union (Mercantile oriented power with a focus on profit making); The Security Sector (Mercenary nation who garners a fair amount of profit on the sale of its professional soldiers and bounty hunters to individual star systems through to the empire itself); The Unincorporated Territories; The Ore Belt; The Frontier; Dead Space. Background: The Erischan Empire has existed for 5,000 years. In the twenty years since the end of the Great War, it has embarked on the second of what it calls the Expansion Wars. These are minor wars that have taken place as resistance has sprung up from regions the empire incorporated into itself as 'repayment' for its involvement in the Great War (reference United States' attitude towards Europe post-WWI). One of the most important star systems it has been having difficulty with is the Ixiom System. Part of the Ore Belt and rich in natural resources vital to ship production, it has been under the protectorate of the empire for a few years. Dissatisfaction with treatment towards the poor and ancient tribal conflicts have developed into outright conflict on Ixiom III and Ixiom IV, political and economic seats of power for the system. Having experienced centuries of tribal warfare intermittently broken up by peace for years before the empire's arrival, these systems are now banding together in new bouts of war, this time crossing tribal disagreements to fight the empire. Ixiom IV is the political seat of power, ruling from the city of Tallaca. The Striker, flagship of the empire and operational command for Terrorist Suppression Operations (T.S.O.) has responded to a recent outright rebellion in the system. Moving progressively from the outer planets inward and establishing fortifications and garrisons as it has moved, it expected to arrive at Ixiom IV and assist the local government. Before that could happen, the two largest resistance movements, Jan-Halal and the Ixiom Independence Party, banded together and forced the evacuation of the sitting, pro-imperial government. The timetable was accelerated and the Striker moved directly to reestablish political and military control. Task Force One was dispatched to deal with the resistance, and was composed of mixed elements of regular imperial infantry and special forces units deemed Blood Hawks, specializing in covert operations, hostage acquirement, sabotage and assassination. Tasked with acquiring the political heads taken during the resistance and then with putting down the rebellion in the city of Tallaca, it was expected that TFO with its superior technology, training, and the element of surprise would crush the resistance. The rebel forces, however, were warned in advance and countered with overwhelming numbers and technology far superior to that found in Ixiom, acquired from a third party (most likely Fitna, a merchant led black market operation). Task Force Two has been tasked with ascertaining the status of Task Force One's members, the status of the original hostages, and with destroying the rebellion. Two level-one targets, leaders of Jan-Halal and I.I.P., have been identified as being in the region, and must be killed. T.F.T. is composed entirely of Blood Hawks and is an entirely covert operation conducted under the cover of ongoing conflicts emerging in the Government Block between pro-imperial forces (loyalists) and anti-imperial forces (rebels). Personalities: Horatio Darmok: High Admiral, hero of the Great War, the Expansion Conflicts, the Security War and the Complex War. 70 years old, tactical genius and charged with one fourth of the imperial navy. Paul Nelson: Captain. Primary background in naval combat, highly experienced head of the ship. John Fisher: Commander. Primary background in army combat. Second to Nelson, third in command. Major Yeager: Operational commander, Blood Hawks element. Lieutentant Diaz: Commander, 2nd platoon, Blood Hawks. Tanya Illian: Private, 2nd platoon, Blood Hawk. Daughter of famed pilot Douglas Illian, served Great War, died during experimental pilot testing of what would become the imperial standard fighter, the F-35 Hydra. She is the highest ranking marksman on the ship with a pistol and a skilled pilot. Jeremy Hawkins: Private, 2nd platoon, Blood Hawk. Comes form a long line of military men, all who became generals. Skilled hand-to-hand combatant, exceptional athlete in high school continuing to his current service. Finn Lansing: Specialist, 2nd platoon, Blood Hawk. Tactical master, communications handler. Primarily a brains sort of soldier, is as highly qualified as his peers to serve in a fire zone. Daren Kusan: Private, 2nd platoon, Blood Hawk. Orphan, spent an extended time in training, progressed through three tiers of training (Basic, Moderate, Advanced). Tagged to be a future Cerath member, elite of the elite in Special Forces. Demonstrates exceptional skills in tactical thinking and combat skills. Highly intelligent and gifted athletically. Surgically enhanced, details classified. Technologies: The Striker: A ship intended to house "the best of the best", its commanding officers are a who's who of heroes from prior wars. Its members are the most exceptional of those who pass through the Imperial Academy and its various branches. From its support staff to its infantry, its pilots to the commanding officers, all are exceptional. The Blood Hawks: Ultra-stealthy cover operation units. Equipped with heat soaking suits that provide cover from IR Scanners, Heat detectors, sound detection and motion detection, their suits also utilize OLED camera systems to project cover, capturing images from their backs and projecting them to the forward of the suit, and vice versa. This provides visual camo that reacts to the environment in what is designated ActivCamo . Facial masks utilize night vision, heat vision, UV vision cameras, energy marker systems, coordinated targeting systems. Suits, beyond covert capabilities, utilize Zealous System Technologies, partial external exoskeleton components that enhance both strength and speed. Central belt houses power core, while boot soles house repulsors for short distance flight. Official name: The Stealth Survival Suit (S3). Standard weaponry includes the Tipton Regular (sidearm), the KC-15 (high yield energy rifle) and the standard infantry weapon the Resonating Blade (Rez Blade) for close quarters combat. Zelous Systems may also be utilized for enhanced fighting ability.

Solomon was of the same opinion when he opined in the Book of Ecclesiastes "There is nothing new under the sun".

If 15 people in a shell are all getting demon possessed, it is getting cliche, in my opinion. What I would do once I felt it started getting cliche would RP that the person claiming to be possessed was actually a loon. I'd start responding with "He's off his meds again..." or something to that effect. If the possessed individual started RPing they were wielding some grandiose strength, my counter would be "Stares at as they swing wildly in circles, appearing drunk". Your right to RP something does not necessitate I have to RP into your vision.

You know... I really like your take on the time system. Wow I played since nearly day one and never really though of it like that. Good job.

For sanity's sake I left movement speed to the game. If I can cross the world on foot in a day in game, it was law to me.

The automatic party system is going to hurt joining a party. This will make the requirements of certain skills an automated version of mandatory sub/whm for Summoners.

Kain noticed that, for all of the destruction that had taken placed inside, there were still several people filtering back in. Though a good portion of the bar was scorched, another half had gone saved by the efforts of the militia and conjurers who'd doused the inferno into lifelessness. He did not prefer to go back in, instead sitting on the street outside, one the guards coming up to him to interrogate him. They'd likely do the same to all the rest inside. "You know anything of this?" asked the guard, only half appearing like he cared. Kain spoke from beneath his black mask, still clutching his broken ribs. "Two parties, one led by a man in black armor named Galatius, the other by a bald man and his two escorts, one a thin fencer and the other a giant Hyur. The giant's name is Goobbue, I recognized him, he's a former prisoner of the Garelan Empire. Nothing to be messed around with." "Thank you for your cooperation, citizen." With that, the guard walked into the tavern. Kain was glad to just take a breath, and prepared to depart. He'd had enough of Limsa Lominsa. Ul'dah was beckoning.

Kain had gotten at least two men out of the building but now was feeling the intense heat and congested air affecting him. He'd moved to the rearmost of the restaurant and, unable to see anybody alive, had begun to work his way back to the front. He staggered, a sharp pain shooting through his side. The blow Goobbue had given him had broken his ribs, making it hard to breathe before one even considered the smoke sifting into his lungs. He coughed, forcing one step before the other, his thick robes now a detriment as they began to catch fire. Somewhere in the distance he heard his name and, pushing his body, he looked deep inside of himself, to training and discipline he'd received in another lifetime. One foot, then the other... one foot, then the other... He couldn't see where he was going, but directed himself towards the voice.

A local guard and one of Galatia's Roegadyn had been locked in pitched combat, their blades locked against one another. Maestro noticed this, taking his elongated knife and walking up behind the guard. Quickly catching the man by the jaw and forcing it upwards, he put the knife to the man's neck, killing him with a slice and letting the body fall to the floor. The stunned Roegadyn breathed heavily, bowing his head in gratefulness, and for his effort received Maestro's knife across the gut, blood spilling as the heavy man fell face forward to the ground. At his back, the Leader had withdrawn a short staff. "They want to use magic, then magic it shall be," he cried,adding fire to fire, the flames bursting forward and licking the walls. It burst forward in a chaotic mess, and Maestro couldn't help but smile as his compatriot added to the situation. As he walked through the chaotic horde, he saw a slightly steaming body, untouched by fire but seemingly electrocuted. He smiled, dropping to a knee and putting his knife to the dead man's ear, slicing it off in a single cut. "Goobbue might want a bite of this," he said with a grin, getting back to his feet and walking through the ever increasing fire towards the door. In all of this, the giant man named Goobbue had become a bloody mess, taking the brunt of the attacks from the Roegadyn guard and yet enforcing his will, using all seven hundred pounds of himself to decimate his attackers, including some of the city guards. Now, though, he stood facing an old foe, the black masked man, whose face was bare. "Long time no see Goobbue," joked the warrior, Great Axe in hand. "Kain!" the malformed giant bellowed, his gaping jaw roaring as he charged forward, bringing his maces down. Kain rolled aside quickly, taking the butt of his axe and striking the giant in the side, Goobbue soaking up the blow before turning, slamming the man with a backhanded strike. Kain was physically thrown aside, crashing into a set of tables as the giant began to lumber forward, when the voice of the Leader suddenly called out. "GOOBBUE, we have to leave, NOW!" the thin fencer cried, still cutting his way through one last of the city patrol. More would be coming surely, and Galatia's forces had thinned considerably amid all the chaos. Now, they had to escape. Goobbue snarled at Kain one last time as he turned, his mammoth form making a giant silhouette against the flames as he vanished into them, following the Leader. The Leader glanced one final time, back through the fire, in the direction of Ryelle. A lost business opportunity to be sure. Maestro, meanwhile, had caught sight of one of the many smoke bombs lining the floor. How they'd gone untouched til now, he had no idea, but with a grin he put his heavy boot down onto the one. A blinding explosion of black smoke issued forward, setting off a chain reaction of multiple smoke bombs that started to steam out of the restaurant, mixing with the growing inferno and creating a situation where visibility was almost impossible. He laughed, crossing the distance to the exit in the darkness, his two companions at his back as they rushed onto the street. The three of them burst out of the black smoke rushing out of the tavern, Goobbue bloodied, the Leader streaked with stains across his clothing. Maestro grinned as he looked across the way, spotting four men, one of them the armored warrior with the large sword. He howled, holding up the severed ear between his thumb and index finger. "Oh, I like you," he shouted, tossing the ear up towards his giant guardian. Goobbue eagerly took the flesh, downing it in his mammoth jaws, the Maestro stepping in the opposite direction of the approaching militia. "When we have more time, let's play." The humor vanished from his face as his features fell on the man called Celgad. "And you," he snarled, "Tell One-Eye hello for me." The minute the words left his mouth, the smile returned, his eyes lighting up as he led his companions off into the darkness. Inside, with it apparent that the flames were becoming deadly, Kain took his mask and pulled it over his face. It would filter these fumes at least a bit. "Everyone, out of the building! Take any survivors you can!" He looked aside, finding one of the local guards and hauling him onto his feet, the man leaning against Kain's shoulder. "Let's go!"

(honestly part of what made this brawl so awesome was its chaotic nature. People got attacked that people didn't intend to attack, others did things in certain ways... and in the end a crazy awesome fight ensued)

(As I understood the battle to have happened.)

(it's a Friday night be back I'm a few hours )

The formerly dark masked man began to walk slowly into the interior of the restaurant, his hand casually unlatching the next of the cloth straps that secured his Great Axe. There was a growing tension throughout the establishment, and several patrons, adjusted to the toils of survival, were at high alert. Meanwhile, the Maestro's tongue streaked across the top of his teeth, his eyes watching as the Lalfell left, watching as the hooded figure strolled across the room, watched the man who had whispered to a figure at the bar. "Two's company, more's a crowd," he said, looking up at Galatius. "You were rude to a woman, Galatius." The goateed man's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tongue, Maestro. You have no authority here." "Oh, you're right, of course," he said, nodding, leaning back, hands resting loosely on the table before him. "But I didn't come to do business with you, I came to do business with One-Eye. I can see I'm not important enough for him," he said, heaving a heavy breath. "But, at least I know how to treat a woman." His eyes danced upwards, scanning the two ladies, then went back to Galatius before him. "And, I don't think you've apologized, have you Galatius?" The armored man didn't respond, his eyes moving towards the Leader. "Grab your dog's leash, Tervanian, and handle him." This seemed to rouse the Maestro's anger, his eyes suddenly flying open, his teeth locked together so tightly they looked like they might crack one another. "Handle me?" He suddenly shouted, kicking out his own chair beneath him as he flew onto the table in a single, long stride. His hand swept downwards, clasping the knife he'd laid onto its surface just a moment before and lunged forward at Galatius, his hand thrusting forward in a single smooth motion that jammed the lengthy blade just above the collar, above the line of the armor the man bore. It sliced cleanly into his body, red suddenly staining the steel as Galatius fell backwards, body flailing as he collapsed limp on the floor. Immediately the hoard of guards sprung forward, momentarily shocked by the mindless assassination and now bearing down on Maestro. The maddened man thrust his hands outwards, ballistic knives springing from his wrists from coiled springs, taking one of the guards against the shoulder and another in the stomach, Maestro immediately drawing two large blades from his belt as he leapt at his attackers. In the same moment as the men began to charge, the mammoth Goobbue, all eight feet and seven hundred pounds, suddenly roared to life to the side of his employer, the twin maces in his hand swinging outwards at the crowd of men crushing down upon them. Tervanian Eldamane, also known as the Leader, took a last, apologetic glance at the woman known as Ryelle before whipping out his sabre, its long, thin blade flashing in the light of the restaurant. His thin frame charged at the nearest of the guards, blades meeting. A sudden chaos broke out as the men who had formerly been charged with protecting Galatius' life now went into an empty rage, some crashing against the trio while others of the hulking Roegadyn turned, fanning into the restaurant. One grabbed at the pair of women, others suddenly went into an attack, hoping to clear the restaurant. Alcohol imbibed patrons, some of whom had been hoping to enjoy a quiet meal and who should have simply left, now flung themselves at the battle, some so inebriated they failed to realize they were making the situation worse as they occasionally came into conflict among themselves. The formerly black masked man, who had til now been hoping this would end calmly, suddenly found himself charging into the chaos, his hand reaching to the handle of his Great Axe as he plunged into the fight.

The man of the black mask, now standing with his face unveiled, hood hovering just above his eyes, couldn't help but turn. The two women had put themselves into an interesting spot. Goobbue was nobody to be messed with, and the one that had been called Maestro looked particularly vicious. He began to turn, the two drinks in his hand, then quickly settled them onto the bartop. Casually his hand fell to his back, loosening the first of the cloth straps that secured his weapon in place. "Fine way to introduce yourself to a woman," he mumbled to himself as he waited, hoping he wouldn't have to take any action. Meanwhile, across the restaurant, the goateed man did not acknowledge the pair, instead keeping his gaze straight forward on Maestro. "Is this pair yours?" "MIne?" The bald man looked shocked, placing a hand to his chest, his eyes glinting in the light. "I thought they were some of your... fancy escorts. I know how much One-Eye likes to employ the ladies." His gaze moved aside to his companion, the blond man with spectacles. "Leader," he said, looking amused. "Did you hire these two for our guests here?" The one called Leader shook his head, his handsome features peering up towards the two women, eyes hovering above his glasses. "Unfortunately, I did not have the foresight." His finger moved upwards, pressing the glasses up the length of his nose and flush against his face. "Excuse me, ladies. My proper name is Tervanian Eldamane, formerly of the Ul'dah branch of the Eldamane Trading Consortium. As a businessman I certainly understand the need for redress. Did you happen to note the offender?" The goateed man glared at Tervanian. "Leader..." "I'm sorry Galatius, but I believe we do need to know if one of One-Eye's men has been acting rudely towards the patrons of this establishment." The bald man's hands fell to the table, his right hand drumming across its surface. "Yes, please tell us, has Galatius here been rude?" His eyes filled with glee, any of the logic and coldness that had passed along his features intermittently now giving way to anxious amusement.

Jagrath came down upon the old man, the blood from his head spilling down across the floor. The body was spread out, the man mumbling incoherently, the inevitable result of the wound. Still, he looked as if he would be fine once secured. Quickly glancing about he found a nearby outcropping of rocks, guiding the Raptors to it and securing their long leather leashes about, secured so that they would not move. Walking quickly back to his men, his hand went to his helmet, the latch released and the steel item falling onto the rocky floor. He did the same to his chest armor, feeling it fall away. He pointed to two of his men, who did the same, and then quickly walked to the surface of the water. "There's only a bit of distance down between here and another section of the cavern where the ships passed. Come on," he growled, pushing into the water and sinking below, his hands parting the way ahead as he sank into the darkness. The next section of the cave, along with light to see by, was only so far ahead. He and his two guards pushed deep within, turning upwards as they followed the wall until they could rise back upwards. They shot like arrows up through to the surface of the water, all three men immediately scanning for their target as they did so.

A group of nine or ten rough looking men entered the bar, each looking the part of ruffians, chests bared slightly by the open parts down their shirts, flared cuffs adorning their wrists and bandannas about their heads, a few bearing eye patches. Each carried an assortment of weapons upon them, blades of many lengths and sorts. Several were Roegadyn, one Elezen and the rest Hyur. The lead man was a Hyur, his lean face and short cut white hair adorning his face alongside a thin goatee that came to a point on his chin. His armor was black, his hands and feet gloved, and he carried a lengthy looking sword at his side. Obviously the leader. They paid no attention to the approaching waitress, whom they walked straight past. As their large group moved through the eatery, they brushed alongside many of the patrons, one of the large Roegadyn pushing aside a woman upon whom was perched a bird of some sort, others rattling the tables of several finely dressed customers as well as brushing the side of the chair belonging to a small Lalafell. Their leader urged them onward, to the rearmost table, where the earlier trio of villains had entered. As they approached, the black armored criminal leading the way was heard growling the word "Maestro" as he moved up to the table. The bald leader of the three who had arrived earlier stood up, arms wide as he took a deep bow. "As I live and breath," he said, a menacing smile on his face. "Shall we do business, gentlemen? And let's keep our voices low, please! We wouldn't want to be heard talking about One-Eye in such a fine establishment as this!" The man with the goatee scowled at the bald man, taking a seat, his men forming a half circle around his side of the table. "Agreed."

That's the thing, I don't want to have to hoof it back. I don't have the time to waste running that long... that's half the reason I shut down FFXI in the first place, it takes way too long. I want to play this game, RP, get around at a decent clip and not have to burn so much time just getting around. The walk back through Yhoator Jungle, for instance, can take forever.

"What... what would you like sir?" the frightened waitress asked. The bald headed man withdrew one of the many daggers that lined his chest, his head tilted forward, eyes burrowing into the table. He pointed the knife absently in the direction of the rest of the restaurant, in the general direction of the bird, perched upon a woman's shoulder. "I might be in the mood for a little fowl," he said, a grin extending upon his face as his fingers began to drum the table. "I think I spied something on the way in that would fit the bill." The spectacled indivudal, without turning aside, simply put a hand on the wrist of the man. "Sir, I would more than enjoy to help you acquire the bird. However, don't you think this should wait until after the meeting? We do still have an appointment with One-Eye's agents." The mention of the name brought the sanity and reason back to the bald man's eyes. "Right you are, of course," he said, setting the knife down upon the table, the cold steel returning to his face though the slight amusement remained on his lips, his soulless eyes piercing those of the waitress. "Gingerale, please. No laughs," he said, his grin widening, his index finger tapping on the handle of his knife. The waitress nodded, mouth agape as she turned away, taking quick steps back to the bar.

The dark masked man did not look up, only glancing out the side of his eye as a trio of men entered into the bar. Leading the small pack was one man, his bald head gleaming in the dim light, a row of daggers and knifes strapped to his chest beneath the brown coat. His face was emotionless, a cold slate of thought and logic, the man entirely within the realm of control. At his right was a thin, well dressed man with well combed and trimmed hair, spectacles on his eyes. At his side was a thin sabre of the dueling sort, sharp enough to kill a man but usually reserved for sport. On the opposite side, to the left, was a giant of a man, larger than any Hyur he had seen, save for maybe Guytrain the Guillotine. Unlike Guytrain, this brute looked like all muscle and no brain, except for his belly that hung over the front of his tattered pants, a thick rope tied about his waist and barely holding the material up. In his sides he gripped two gigantic maces, the head of both the width of a man's torso. The trio said nothing for a moment, the thin, spectacled man walking up to a nearby waitress. "Table, m'lady," he said with a half bow, hand extended in front of his waist in a courteous gesture. "We may be met by several others, so perhaps something private, towards the back?" The waitress' eyes went wide as she looked from the handsome gentleman, to the giant mountain of a man, to the coated and knife armed leader of the three. The bald man's cold, emotionless eyes turned to the waitress for only a second and she could not prevent the instinctive step backwards, the fearful reaction. She braced herself, clutching a menu to her breasts as she nodded, leading them far from the rest, towards the rearmost of the tavern. The masked man watched the three as they vanished towards the rear, returning his gaze to the bartender before them. He shook his head, thinking on the large man. "Goobbue. Why the hell is he here..." He quickly raised his hand to his mask stripping it off his face. Goobbue had never once seen him with the tiara off, but had certainly seen him plenty of times with it on. He tucked the black mask into his robes, exposing his tanned features, though he disguised his face under the hood. Those three looked vicious, and he was not at all up for that sort of fight tonight. A good bar brawl, perhaps. He chuckled as he leaned towards the bartender, cupping his glass in his hand. "I think I might, perhaps, buy a drink for one of the ladies here. It's been a while though."

Yeah but I don't want to be penalized for wanting to explore. Losing my mount because I want to look at something is a penalty.

I'm pro-mounts. I don't really think they shrank the world; if anything FFXI's got tediously large after the hundredth time you had to go through the Meriphataud Mountains. I would rather have the choice to explore rather than be forced to explore. I think giving people the option is the best rout. In WoW I loved exploring and finding new corners and places that were like, WOW. But I know not all people do.

Jagrath's hands barely held back the tethered Raptors who, snarling and howling, snapped their teeth anticipation of their prey. The armored soldier grinned underneath his steel helmet, the men at his back barely keeping pace as they descended, the stone walls giving way to smooth stone. They were nearing the old port, the ancient method that had been used to bring prisoners into the citadel. Though it had been some time since it had been put to use, it was not so ancient that Jagrath was unfamiliar with it and its layout. Ahead of them, tunnel turned, widening. They were drawing near, and the men at his back were unleashing their blades, the ringing of it echoing outwards into the watery cove. Far above, Guytrain Bilmari, captain of the guard at the citadel, was closing in on his prey, just a flight or two more above. Though he had no information on who it was, he had his suspicions, and though he had no way to truly know the location of this prey, his instinct for tracking down his prey had always been impeccable.The escort of a dozen men could not be hidden, their boots shaking the stone pathways upward, the halls echoing with the sound of their footsteps. It rose upwards to the watch tower, where Kain and Revan now stood, at an impasse. Kain's grin had not faded, and he secured the Great Axe to his back. "I've always had a talent with air magic that may provide something of a cushion for this fall," he said, unstrapping the rope at his right glove, a short wooden staff falling forward and into his palm. He secured his hands within the noose while maintaining a firm grip around the rough wood of the staff. "It is either a good day to die, or a good day to survive."