RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes

Roswyn · **10-07-2014, 02:09 PM**

The tunnels were dark.

She'd no idea who built them or why and at the moment all she could think about was running. Literally running for her life.

----------

She'd no idea what was about to happen when she went down there. She'd eased the pain of the mercenary's wounds with her conjury and extracted the cause of the damage. A corrupted crystal growing disgustingly out of the man's flesh. It pulsed a revolting shade of purple and red, veins and tracks of flesh growing along it's edges. She'd no idea how long it'd been growing inside the man.

She'd wrenched it from his flesh with a knife and tossed it aside, watching it leave tracks of blood across the stone floor. She sat back then, panting, the knife in her hand still dripping with the mercenary's blood. She trembled. She wasn't used to things like this but any kind of rational processing of the situation would have to wait until her mind was free of the adrenaline and she was out of these horrible stone walls. She looked at her companion then, preparing to continue to heal his grave wounds when suddenly....he stood.

She blinked up at his tall, muscled form in disbelief. He dripped copious amounts of his own blood as he half staggered, half walked across the room. "What...what are you doing??" Roswyn stuttered. "You're in no condition to..." Her words trailed off as she watched him move with intent, making his way towards one of the doors in the room. A metal cage door housing an emaciated man chained to the wall. It was then she'd finally looked around.Â

A wooden table stood nearby, various implements of cutting through skin and muscle laid bloodstained and filthy atop it. Her stomach lurched and her hand came to her mouth, her eyes widening as she viewed the cages around her. The people inside them were silent. Chained to the wall not even bothering to look at her or at the display as it seemed they'd long since accepted their fate. She stood then, wobbly on her feet, as she'd looked to her companion. She'd called his name as she'd done countless times before and he ignored her instead choosing to yank one of the doors open with impressive strength.

The sound of the metal tearing and lock bolt snapping was painful to her ears and they flattened down against her skull. She winced and watched him move toward the helpless man within the cage. A feeling of dread came over her. She knew what was about to happen yet she couldn't make herself move. She stood frozen in place watching as her companion took the bound man's face in his hands, holding his head tightly as he tore it from his body. She could hear the delicate bones snapping and she watched the veins and tendons tear from the base of his neck. She merely stared in wide-eyed terror as the blood-spray covered her clothes and face.

Several seconds passed before she'd gathered herself enough to scream in horror. She bolted from the room in pure adrenaline-powered flight, caring not for anything or anyone in her way until she escaped. She heard them then, the loud thudding footsteps behind her. He was chasing her.

She emitted a sob as she ran for all she was worth, following the same blood trail back up the maze of tunnels that led her down here. However, her former companion behind her was more monster than man now, his speed overtaking hers easily. In a move of desperation, her hand moved to her pearl as she ran, calling the only man she knew would have a prayer against what was tailing her.

Berrod Armstrong · **10-08-2014, 10:58 AM**

((Warning for a very slightly erotic tone in some places. Don't read it if there's anyone virtuous looking over your shoulder!))

A crisp darkness that preceded dawn settled over the Goblet, doting the wards with the last vestiges of a cold night. The sky stood cloudless, and the moon had long since hidden away. Dew settled on the walls and windows of the Astral Agent headquarters, glimmering by the lamp light that bathed the yard. The well-kept grass sparkled like something from a tale of old. The sun would soon come to drink it up but for now, the property basked in an almost crystalline sheen.Â

The quiet of the hour was disturbed by the sound of steady, hasty footfalls and the pattern of exerted breathing. The pattern told of four feet and breaths taken for two. Sure enough a pair of Highlanders emerged from several yalms down the street, both male, tall and broad. They wore naught but pairs of fitted black shorts and ankle boots, both soaked through with the sweat that covered them. One was paler in complexion than the other, sporting low-cropped hair and striking blue eyes. A neatly trimmed growth adorned his jaw, framing a rather good-looking set of features -- drenched with sweat as they were. His nose flared slightly with each inhale, only for his lips to part for the controlled expulsion. He was no stranger to exercise.Â

The other Highlander was of a similarly massive build, though more sun-scarred. Red hair was pulled back into a condensed tail at the back of his head with the sides shaved low. While not as neatly good-looking as his running partner he bore a rough and worn handsomeness to him; well featured, yes, but more rugged than classic. Even his body bore a defifcit of neatness compared to the other. While the black-haired Highlander's musculature was tidy (though no less large) and firm, the redhead possessed a brutal looking, hardy bulk. It affected the distinct patterns of speckled hair on their torsos, black and red respectively.

A sudden, mutual glance between the two ignited competition, and the last leg of the jog suddenly became a race. Their speed doubled, and concern for their technique went out the window. A sprint had burst forth. In the mad scramble to enter under the archway of the Agency's yard, neither of them could truly determine who had actually won, leading to a round of deep, juvenile laughter. A fat waterskin was waiting for them on the grass against the house's wall; the redhead swiped it up first. He put it to his lips and chugged greedily, spilling quite a bit down his chest -- much to the chagrin of the other Highlander. "Oi, Berrod!" He complained, "If yer gonna waste it all, least lemme get my whet first!"

Berrod lowered the skin and aimed a smirk at the other. Bright green eyes flashed in challenge, and he beckoned. "If y'want it, come get it, Caleb." To accent the taunt, he shook the sloshing vessel. Caleb didn't respond with anger, but with a slightly exasperated snort. "Am I gonna have ta kick yer arse again?" Berrod's only response was another shake of the skin.Â

Caleb was the slower of the two, but it was not evident by the way he moved. His left leg planted forward and allowed him to push off from his right, sending him on a crash course with the other with an arm outstretched toward the waterskin for good measure. Berrod had no time to dodge and instead braced, holding the skin as far away from the other man as possible. The collision was far from catastrophic but still significant, sounding a sharp clap of skin and a chorus of grunts between the two. They may as well have been aldgoats fighting over a mate; demonstrating a critical part of the Highlander stereotype in the wee hours of morn. It took some grappling, manoevreing and strong-arming, but Caleb eventually managed to snag the waterskin from the other.

The result had left them both panting, having perhaps endured more exercise than they had during their jog. Caleb drank deeply, finishing the remnants of the cool liquid in very little time. As an answer to the taunting from before, he tossed it back toward Berrod, who reflexively caught it with a scowl. "Bastard," He grunted. The insult didn't quite reach his eyes. Â His eyes, however, seemed to do some reaching of their own. It was just a for a moment, but they flitted down and traced a drop of sweat that had dripped from the man's chin. As it traversed down Caleb's musculature, so too did those twin greens follow the path of taut flesh. The drop perished as it soaked into the waistband of the man's shorts, making Berrod suddenly aware of what he had done. He lifted his eyes to see that Caleb had been watching his gaze, and sought to hastily look away. "Awright, break's over. We should get back on it."

Caleb's only response was a slightly raised brow and a nod. Without fuss he turned and made his way to the archway over the yard's entrance. It was easy enough for him to reach it and begin a lengthly set of pull-ups. Berrod sauntered over to lean on the column at the side, folding his arms and doing his best not to look in the other man's direction. "Don't lemme catch ya skimmin' now," He teased. Caleb growled something at him that sounded very much like an expletive, but kept going until the muscles of his arms, back and shoulders were swollen and corded. When he finally dropped, it was with an ostentatious presentation in front of the other. "Yer turn."

Berrod had counted every repetition and was determined to outdo him, even by just one. He worked nigh vindictively, enjoying the spirit of competition just as much as he enjoyed the screaming burn that ran through his arms and shoulders. He could feel when Caleb took a look at him, those blue eyes left pinpricks on his skin wherever they landed. After significant exertion he let go and landed on the floor, mirroring the proud display Caleb had provided for him. "How's that?"

"Yer a case an' a half," Caleb snorted. "Always gotta try an' one up me."

"Ain't ever gotta try hard," Berrod shot with a playful sneer.Â

"Yer askin' for it," The dark-haired Highlander warned. Berrod only moved closer, eliciting a wrinkle of Caleb's nose. "Gods, ye stink."

The words made Berrod suddenly aware of it. With a sharp pair of sniffs he did realize that he exuded a sweat-borne musk that made the air around him a little thick. It wasn't -that- bad though -- or so he thought. "I ain't that ripe," came the casual protest, "An' you ain't exactly a bed o'roses either." He stepped closer, leaving but a pair of ilms between them.Â

Berrod's actions caused Caleb to frown and warily glance around them. "We're outside, Berrod," He warned. The redhead would not be deterred, however. It was out of the norm; usually he would be the one championing for care and discretion when they were not alone together. It seemed that this morning he was ready to throw caution to the wind. "Yeah, I know."

He paused and breathed deeply, leaning his nose close enough into Caleb's neck for his breaths to cool the sweat. "Hrm. It really ain't a bed o'roses, but it ain't so bad either." His tone waned husky and low. Caleb still remained apprehensive, still looking about -- down the street in particular. There was only resistance when Berrod's hands grew bold enough to seek the waistband of the soaked shorts. "Not here."

It was only when Berrod pulled back he realized that they had been pressed together -- the sound of their bodies pulling apart gave an almost comical, somewhat tearing sound , like wet leather peeled off a wall. "Fine, fine. I'll behave. Gonna finish yer sets with that pointin' out in the road, though?" With a juvenile smirk, he pointed down below Caleb's waistline, where the Highlander had very clearly responded to the attention he had been given. "If y'do it, I'll do it too. Gotta one-up ya, after all."

Caleb's laugh was loud enough to send several birds skyward, which drew attention to the blue haze of imminent sunrise in the east. "Yer like a damn kid," He chided. "I'll wait a bit, I ain't doin' that!"

Berrod's smirk had grown into a full on grin. "Suit yerself, I'm gonna do it anyway."

It was so that sunrise met the two fellows; one leaned on the entrance column shaking his head while the other did rather inappropriate pull-ups in fits of breathless cackling. The poor retainer who was passing by had left scarred and scandalized beyond all reckoning.Â

All was well again, for a time.

CrookedTarot · **10-08-2014, 11:55 AM**

((I implore you, if you do read this, it is written the way it's written for a reason and ask that you read ALL the way through!))

"Good morning everyone~!"

The shrill little voice cheered as the door to the Company house was kicked open. The tiny Lalafell emerged, pigtails bobbing in the sunshine as she walked out into the front garden, smiling pleasantly. In fact there was nearly a dance in her step she was so happy and mellow. It was a great day, really, with the sun shining and the birds singing. In fact, she had had a great morning with a big breakfast and a nice bath and was now ready to go out and do her best for everyone in the company!

As she tromped through the green grass below her, turning her bright eyes to the blue sky above her, she stopped short, shocked!

"The Faces of Mercy!"

There, standing before the gate to their adorable little Company house was their enemy--the group that had hounded her new friends to no end! And they had them, all of them, tied up and were leading them away!

"Oh NO!"

Zozola Zola de Chocola IX could NOT let this stand! It was up to HER to save her friends!

"Oh, it is Zozola Zola! You may be the most charming, delightful, beautiful, cleverest, sweetest and most powerful mage in all of Eorzea and Beyond but you cannot stop US! The FACES OF MERCY!" said their leader, pointing at the little Lalafell with a terrible finger. "Your friends are ours and we will destroy you!"

Raising her scepter to do battle, Zozola Zola looked the man in the eye with the most charming, delightful, beautiful, cleverest, sweetest and most powerful smile a person could manage. "I will not let you hurt my friends! It's time to dance!"

Twisting around, she fired a blast of flame at the nearest Face, knocking him onto his rear and sending him running, dropping the rope holding Crooked Tarot, the Company's accountant. "Thank you, Zozola! It's not wonder I hired you on to be our Company mage!"

With a few direct flicks of her scepter, she blasted another Face with ease, this time saving Athea, who said in their strange voice, "You are truly the greatest thing to ever happen to your Company! Please help save the others, Zozola Zola de Chocola IX!"

The three proceeded on, walking in perfect step as they made their way after the rest of the group. They stopped when they saw that the Faces were now holding Draco hostage as well! "You will let her go now!" Zozola unleashed a powerful wave of lightning, blowing the Face clear over the balcony of the Goblet as Draco was freed.

"WARK!" Draco declared happily, praising Zozola and thanking her for saving her. "WARK-WARK!"

Of course Zozola was only too happy to oblige, even to save a humble chocobo, for she was friend to all creatures of Eorzea both great AND small!

Leading her merry band on they moved along to vanquish the rest of the Faces! All the while cheering her name for being the most charming, delightful, beautiful, cleverest, sweetest and most powerful mage in all of Eorzea and Beyond!

------------

"Yes--yes--worship me--nya~haha...ha..." Zozola mumbled, waving her hand imperiously in her sleep as she turned over in bed before promptly rolling off and falling onto the floor below. With a thud, the young Lalafell groaned, blinking her eyes and looking around at the tangle of blankets and sheets she found herself in, her dream shattered in a moment. There was that quick moment when she realized it was indeed all a dream and she caught herself pouting. She had just been about to claim her reward too...

Still, the thought of everyone finally learning their place was enough to turn the pout into a sneer as she pushed her little hands onto the floor and stood up--only to flop over again as he legs got caught in the blankets. This time it illicted a curse as she laid face-down on the wooden floorboards. Some kicking and sputtering followed as she pried herself loose of the bedclothes and got up. Moving to the mirror of the room she was borrowing for the time being, she looked into the glass and sighed. A LOT of work to do this morning.

Grabbing up her hairbrush, one of the few things she managed to bring with her, she started working on combing out the long blond locks, her mind already working this early in the morning. And it was indeed early--dawn was only just starting to peek over the horizon outside. Stopping for a moment to look at the surroundings, she couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of depression at her plight. Living here, of all places, with a bunch of dunces and dunderheads wasn't so bad--they'd eventually learn their position and she'd be on top where she belonged. No, the issue was that she had only three hundred gil to her name--it was all her father had given her before he'd shoved her out the door.

It wasn't easy having to work your way up from the bottom, of course. She'd need to find new minions and underlings that did what they were told--and there was the matter of getting back her beloved pet as well.

"So much to do and so little time. A noble's life is never easy..." she sniffed, looking back into the mirror before her lips curled up into her trademark sneer.

"But it still shouldn't be too hard for the most charming, delightful, beautiful, cleverest, sweetest and most powerful mage in all of Eorzea and Beyond! Nya~HAHAHAHAH!"

As she burst into laughter, she stopped only a second as a THUMP was heard from the wall that stood between her and the room next door--the inhabitant probably not pleased with being awoken by the shrill laughter that early in the morning. It only stopped her for a second though before she burst into another fit of the giggles.

"NYA~AHAHAHA!"

Oscare · **10-08-2014, 04:35 PM**

"I don't care, I told myself." The man's bare chest expands, pulsating back and forth in labor. Staring at the mirror, the hunter wipes a brow drenched in sweat, a stone cold violet gaze reflects back onto him. He runs a hand through his beard, unshaved for months and prickly, gathering and clustering more as every day passes on.Â

No shoes, no shirt, no service. His foot scratches the other's ankle, a hand instinctively gropes a pectoral in a desperate attempt to relax himself, huffs as strong as hurricanes escape in rhythm of Oscare's breathing, a downpour of sweat rolling on down. He droops his head, shaking it -- all being reflected right back at him in the mirror.

"I don't care... I don't... care... No, I don't, not at all." An eerie chuckle escapes him, nearly choking on his sweat and grasps for air. "They don't matter to me at all. Let them die in Thanalan, let those stupid Faces of Mercy strangle them with their own intestines... Swallow their tongues, leave them with holes in between their eyes. Spew their own blood out, hex them to have blood leak from every hole of their bodies..." The hunter finally looks back up at the mirror, seeing his own eyes crack with rusty red veins and pupils smaller than ants. The sweat slowly wears away his face paint, the burn marks they hide come to light. "Let them know their screams! The screams that fuel my very being...!" A bang. The hunter -- or better yet -- sociopath slams his fist down, shaking everything in the table. The mirror collapses on his head, shattering in pure terror from the dark-toned's man thundering strike. Sweat mixes in with blood now, and the breathing isn't as rapid anymore.Â

Oscare scoots back from the broken mirror, slowly walking to the center of his room. His hands travel to the buckle of his belt, deft motions undoing the buckle and slips the belt off his waist. He coils the waist-piece in his hands, looking at the closest wall. Strolling on over, a sly smile takes shape, hands gripping ever so tightly on the plain brown leather belt. He lashes against it, incomprehensible mutters seethe out.Â

"Don't care! Don't. Fucking. Care!"Â

B'ren Lyrgh · **10-09-2014, 04:14 PM**

â€œIâ€™ll give Iex your hellos!â€ Bâ€™ren called back out to Avenioas the Highlander left. A heavy sigh passed through pressed lips, the Seeker leaning himself back into the chair, Bâ€™ren looking over the papers littering the table in front of him. There were so many things to get done, to investigate, to research, to experiment on. Through the course of questioning Avenio about the odd tattoo markings on his arm, Bâ€™ren hadnâ€™t forgotten why his curiosity was so peaked. Markings hold a lot to those who make them or those who seek them, some form complex means to cast magicks and some are used to seal them away, all this Bâ€™ren knew but none of that had happened to the blond Highlander.

â€œNot that dwelling on it will matter,â€ Words poured out of him slowly, Bâ€™ren gathering up the papers scattered around the room now as well. First and foremost he had to worry on Sarij, the Roegadyn that Caleb and Berrod had almost begged him and Iex to work together on. The manâ€™s magicks had been sealed away, taken from him and his body nearly drained of all traces. Itâ€™d be a dangerous thing to suddenly reintroduce such a surge of Aether into someoneâ€™s body, the force of it could very well pop an organ. Still, Caleb and Berrod were almost desperate to have their friendâ€™s powers back and the Miqoâ€™te was going to do his best.

â€œSpeaking of Iex, where is that man?â€ Turning on his heels and towards the door, hips cocked and a hand rested on his left side, Bâ€™ren shaking his head at the lateness of the Roegadyn from his endeavor. Their vacation was to begin soon, over in the City of Nym, and the sooner the two of them could have time alone the better for the Seeker. â€œI swear, if this is put back by another day Iâ€™m going to---â€œ He was cut off by rather loud noises and howls from down the hall, his ears flicking and pushing back as he recognized them all too well.

â€œWell, seems Berrod and Sarij took the news wellâ€¦â€

B'ren Lyrgh · **10-09-2014, 04:15 PM**

((*DOUBLE POST* D: ))

B'ren Lyrgh · **10-09-2014, 05:30 PM**

((Totally not a double post this time))

â€œFâ€™the last time! I didnâ€™ fuckinâ€™ do it!â€ A voice yelled inthe dark of the prison cell, the night sky being black as ink and nothing but the street lanterns shining down on the Yellow Jacket standing in front of the bars. A scrawny Miqoâ€™te crawled towards them, wrapping fingers around the cold, metallic prison he was trapped in. The scowl over his face was nothing short of hatred and contempt, staring up at the unblinking Midlander that stood watch. There they sat for a time, staring at each other until the Miqoâ€™te sighed heavily. In defeat he slunk back into the depths of the dark cell, curling himself up in a tight ball until morning came.

Morning came, as usual; the sounds of the busy life of Aleport filled the twitchy ears of Bâ€™oakta. The usual slop of a morning breakfast was passed through the bars, each inmate there took their share and back to his corner he went. Hours upon hours had passed, certain sounds catching the Miqoâ€™teâ€™s attention. He knew that voice! Oh by the Twelve did he know that voice and did it ever strike fear into his heart. The Commander in charge of his case and the shrill tone of her voice cut through the crisp air.

â€œBâ€™oakta, Iâ€™ve special news for you.â€ Though the voice soft and soothing, almost like a mother consoling her child, the striking figure of the Roegadyn woman did little to mask that, so much so that the Seeker tucked in the corner did little but lift his head and half-heartedly avoid eye contact. â€œYou had visitor, two in fact. They were looking for you and yourâ€¦.brother?â€ Her tone dropped, in a questioning way to see if that word would spark a reaction from the male. When it did, the guards at her side brandished weapons faster than ever before, the Seeker slamming himself to the bars of the jail with teeth bared and lips pulled back in a tight snarl.

â€œYOU LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS; HEâ€™S NOT INVOLVED AT ALL. HEâ€™S A GOOD KID.â€
â€œIâ€™m sure of it Bâ€™oakta. But with his relation to a StormCaptain Iono leaves room to differ. We will be doing a mild investigation unlessâ€¦.â€ Arms folded and her eyes narrowed, the guards stepping back and up the ramp. Gently she reached a hand out, going to toy at the Miqoâ€™teâ€™s ears through the bars. â€œYou tell us everything that happened back with the Sahagin and why they are trying to get at you still.â€
â€œI said everything that happened, ya just choosing tobelieve that thug over me. And like the hells I know why the fishes are cominâ€™ for me. Prolly because I stopped them from doing much worse to that little girl?!â€

â€œOf course, of course,â€ A flick and the woman stepped back,shrugging wide shoulders and beginning to fix her hair before turning on her heels. â€œThen I wonâ€™t worry about your cares to how we go about asking him and get a bit of information.â€ No time was given to listen to any reply, any plea for her to leave Bâ€™ren alone and keep it between them. All that rang out from the air of Aleport was Bâ€™oakta screaming NO over and over, until he wore himself out and the other inmates.

Off in the distance, a group of Sahagin rallied together,eyes set dead on the Aleport prisons.

Oscare · **10-09-2014, 05:47 PM**

"Captain Iono," Oscare gruffs out, performing a Storm salute to his higher officer. The woman stares at the dark-toned highlander, making direct eye contact with the man's violet stone-cold gaze. Her own empty blue eyes trace his figure down to his boots, her ears perking and drooping. The miqo'te had a rapier in her hand, swinging vacantly at nothing. She walks around Oscare, studying his stiff body at every angle. She speaks nothing, nor does Oscare.

"You've been active lately, Captain." She finally speaks, the top of her blade lying on Oscare's shoulder. The hunter didn't budge from his saluting position. "First you kill several innocent citizens, you went asking for somnus... and now you want an investigation team? What kind of hell did you dig yourself into? An eighth?" Her tone could stab through metal, but Oscare's will was stronger than any metal found on the planet. He doesn't even sweat at her speech. "But, regardless, it seems a promotion into Second Storm Commander is in motion as we speak. What the higher ups think of you and see -- I have nary an idea. But you've been with us a little after the Calamity happened. I'd say... five and a half years? At least your allegiance and loyalty is clear... at a glance."

"Storm Marshal, ma'am, I don't have a clue. I'm doing this in the good name -- Jancis needs this -- I can't -- deny --" Oscare does seem to have trouble putting out his emotions. Well, not like he could anyway, since the Storm Marshal silenced him with a deft swing of her rapier.Â

"Silence, I shall not hear anymore of this. I have been assigned to keep watch over you. You will refer to me as Storm Marshal 19. Do not confuse my words, Hunter, you WILL. Not may." She chuckles lightly, her tail wags to-and-fro. She still can't seem to pierce through the man's spirit. "I hope you put on a wonderful show for me during your promotion trial. It will reflect on my name, and your company's too... What do they call themselves? The Astral Agents?" He taps her temple in 'thought'.

"How cute."

Berrod Armstrong · **10-10-2014, 12:16 PM**

"Mess 'im up, boys. Make sure he's pissin' blood fer a week."

In his daze, Berrod felt rough hands drag him out the door of the alley-side bar. His head still spun from the kick he had just collected to the side of it. The opponent had tapped with the instep, but it had still been enough to send him sprawling into a stupor.Â

The night was cold, and the place stank significantly. It was the rougher part of Ul'Dah, down in the dank alleys he'd spent so much time in before. For some reason they comforted him -- prior to a few moons ago it was the only home he knew. Berrod coughed as his face dragged through the dust; that snapped him back to focus. He was in trouble, and had to act fast, before --Â

The boot to his side granted him a sharp, explosive pain that indicated to him at once, that it had broken a rib or three. He fought the sudden wave of nausea -- assisted by the savage tug at the red tail on the back of his head. The very thought of nausea vanished as a heavy fist cracked him square in the jaw. Berrod's world tumbled, rotated and heaved -- then he was sucking dust again. His mouth was warm and wet -- likely bleeding. It hurt to breathe.Â

Â Another boot came, this time to his other side. For some reason the ribs there seemed more sturdy; he felt a distinct shred of agony from just the one.Â

Perhaps out of stubbornness alone he clapped a hand to the floor, ready to push up and face his foes, no matter how many they would be. In the haze of pain he couldn't tell whether there were two or two hundred of them. When they laughed, however, he made out at least four voices. "Help 'im up! Big man wants ta put up a fight!"

Three pairs of hands dragged him to his feet. Still he thrashed, swung his arms and fought the urge to vomit every time his ribs screamed at him. He couldn't see -- there was dust in his eyes. Dust and blood. The blood was new to him -- he hadn't noticed when he'd cut his head during the fall.Â

Blinded, wounded and already beaten, Berrod set himself into a wide, low stance and raised his arms into a guard, defying the protest of his broken ribs. His very consciousness swam, his stomach was set to heave and his legs trembled violently, but he would not give up. It wasn't easy to ignore the stabs the loud laughter took to his pride, but it had to be done.

As long as he breathed, he would not stop fighting. It was his way, and he would live it or die in it.

Kellach Woods · **10-10-2014, 05:23 PM**

Kellach was in his room, clutching a letter sternly, creasing the paper.

Quote:Dear brother,

Father is no more. Two months after you left, he contracted an unknown illness that the physickian could not cure. We tried teas, leeches, and all sorts of exotic remedies, but nothing worked. He died screaming in pain, claiming the Elements had forsaken him. After seeing the illness myself, I was inclined to agree with him. Both Fire and Ice were fighting over his body heat. Wind had turned foul in his wake. Water could not cleanse him. Neither could the Earth's remedies and even the very spark of life, Lightning, had vanished from his eyes. He died a broken man, brother. A shell of his former self.

You asked that I write to you, rather than mother this time around. Much like father, I am not one for fancy words and I would have gladly left the writing to mother once more. In her grief, however, I fear that informing you of this development would crush her even further. As I write, she has not come out of her room for a week and I fear that she has lost the will to live.

Father bequeathed the farm to me, but I feel as though in his last days, he wished you were at his side, and I were studying in Eorzea. I do not blame him - you were clearly the harder worker. Perhaps it was because mother would keep sheltering you from the outside. Still, I am working harder than I ever thought possible before and sincerely hope you are doing the same at the Arcanists' Guild.

By the time this letter makes it to you, we will have performed the usual funeral rites and father's body and soul will have returned to the Elements. However, please visit father's Tree sometimes and allow him to see just how you have grown.

May the Elements favor your growth,
Einrich

This was the first time he truly lamented coming to Eorzea. He thought of catching the first boat towards the outer continents, but decided against it. His brother was growing up to be a far better man than he was. Other than tart himself up and play up his ignorance of Eorzean customs, what had he actually done here? Study? He hadn't been able to see the inside of Mealvaan's Gate in ages. Train? He hadn't properly trained in weeks.

They were all right - What he needed to work on was himself.

Lady Rivienne · **10-10-2014, 06:46 PM**

Feverish air filled her lungs, arid as it was, did little to hinder the light banter betwixt the two sharing an awning of one of the shops. The sunlight filtered through the clouds, giving some reprieve to the beams of torrid heat that lanced down upon the desert. It was here that she was sent, but not alone, the Commander had become are of how the two worked, especially when an assignment was given to the both of them. He was no fool, though not oft finding himself in the field, he had eyes in the forest, and knew just how well acquainted the two have become. It was no surprise that she stood at the side of Yvelont this day, dressed in her usual farce while watching the denizens pass them by.

Ruddy lips pulled into a smile while fingers curled around his arm; golden depths were set on his features now, especially as those walking the street before them dwindled in numbers. The rough pads, of her fingertips, rose to brush at his chiseled jawline, gingerly caressing at the flesh. She guides him to look down at her while her jovial expression melts away and reveals the harsh, stern demeanor, painted across her sun-touched features.

Whispered words spilled into the space shared between them and Rivienne's body leaned forth, allowing the dress to stretch until stressed. It was her lips that threatened to brush the shell of his ear, and if anyone saw the two, it would have appeared to be a tryst taking place.

â€œI have information that the gathering will take place tonight, a quaint dinner, where our guests will be present.â€ Lashes lowered, giving her eyes a hazardous appearance, â€œWhen night falls, our invitations will be waiting for us at the Sunsilk, the tailor there is also well aware of the task at hand.â€ Her nose brushes his cheek and she continues, even as his arm snaked around her waist, making sure her frame was molded to his. Their act did not draw the eye; people turned away and she chuckled softly before continuing.

â€œYou were told not to draw your blade, yet,â€ the baritone came from his lips softly, gracing her ear as she pulled back so their eyes could meet. All the while, a free hand roamed over the round of her hip, dancing along her thigh, until feeling the strap she had, and more importantly, the all too familiar knife she carried on her person. His lips twist into a smirk as his nose brushed her own. "..I find that you barely separate yourself from it."

â€œ..The Commander spoke to thee, then. My blade will not be drawn, unless it is blood they seek.â€ Her hand snakes down to fall over his own, curling her fingers over the back of his hand. Lashes brush at his cheek and she looks down, trailing his hand back to the swell of her hip. â€œOr if they draw harm to thee, I will rip their heads from their necks,â€ it was a promise made, for threats were never fancied to be taken lightly. Unfortunately, it would also mean that their cover would be blown if she went for their throats suddenly.

He took a hold of her chin and motioned her to look at him. Concern was written plainly across his countenance and he furrowed his brows. For a moment, silence enveloped them and the chattering of those walking past was all that could be heard. It was this simple look, this motion, that reeled her back to some semblance of control. Gingerly, he pushed auburn hair and tucked it neatly behind her pointed ear.

â€œRemember the words we shared, this life is not only yours,â€ he murmured while a finger rose to press to his lips. She began to pull away from him with a sway and a smile that rivaled that of a snake's. He found it enticing, though knew well what was behind such a serpentine look. Ruthless, cold, dangerous. Yet..

â€œ..And thus, I shall be careful to not let it go to waste. I live two lives, the one shared with thee is far too precious.â€ Rivienne concluded while sweeping a hand to the split of her skirt, exposing gratuitous flesh, sculpted by strenuous exercise and kissed by the scars of combat. Fingers sought the sheath of the blade, where she tapped gingerly before fabric folded over and concealed her once more. With that said, she turned away from him, giving a glance past the slope of her shoulder and meeting his gaze one final time, before they had to prepare for tonight's events.

C'kayah Polaali · **10-12-2014, 02:02 PM**

He walked past the silent house, it's gaudy collection of cannons facing outward in a crude attempt to stave off dangers they never saw. He'd wondered in the months after she'd left him what happened in that house, what new tribe they'd formed behind the thick walls and the closed doors. He'd never know now. She was gone, her body carried off by the Sultana's dogs.

He hitched up the collar of his coat and readjusted his pince nez. He'd seen this day coming. Hell, he'd wondered enough times if he'd have to be the one to kill her that he'd prepared an arrow especially for her. He'd burnt it this morning, though. There was no longer any reason for it to exist. For a moment he thought about knocking on the door, talking to the people inside. He shook his head, scowling. He didn't know a soul in that house save the Lalafell and the girl. Kenthy had led away the girl, and the Lalafell... He didn't really know the Lalafell anymore. The Lalafell had broken upon the same rocky coast that he had. He wondered, not for the first time, what that meant. Did she mean to betray him all along, as he'd thought? Or was it just that she didn't know any other way to exist?

He shook his head again. "It doesn't matter anymore", he said to himself. "Now that she's dead, the question is nothing more than academic."

He slipped a leather cord from around his neck. Tied to the end of it was a fiery orange and red feather. She'd given it to him long before, the down of a phoenix, meant to safeguard life. He hung the feather around one of the gaping barrels of the cannon that impotently guarded the house. He'd probably never know where she was buried, but it seemed fitting to leave a remembrance on the weapon. He turned and walked away, his soft-soled boots making no sound on the cobblestones, until all that was left was the feather turning idly on the soft breath of the wind.

Parvacake · **10-12-2014, 02:56 PM**

Her office was quiet in the early mornings. No one was around, and everyone down the hall was asleep. Leon was tucked down in the basement some where, Liandri likely had her mate with her, Locke had Olli the mammett never too far from his side even in slumber, and she could only imagine the delicate little snores coming from her son's room. The thought brought a brief smile to her tired lips, one hand wrapped around a mug of tea while the other held a quill in the other.

Before her was a simple bit of paperwork. No more employment forms or anything else she had generally had to worry about. In fact, it was an official form stating that (until further notice) her company was no longer accepting new members.

In short? The Society had grown more popular then she realized.

Four or five members in the last few Suns, with one application she had to refuse due to them not quite meeting the cut-off. Liandri teased her that she always hired the handsome ones, but Lili never really noticed until after the fact. Even then, she didn't care. As long as they knew what they were doing and got along with everyone else, as a company leader that was what mattered.

Though it never hurt to see some of them walking around the house shirtless...

The little blonde let out a wistful sigh around her mug. Her life was so hard.

Speaking of hard lives...

Her mind drifted back to the encounter last night at the Quicksand. Besides meeting Alexaria and Sly and spending a little quality time with Chokho, there had been that pickpocket. She had looked younger then Lili's own children, and so cheerful at having been caught. As if that was what she wanted all along. Had she known Lili was a pushover? Scouted her long enough to think she could get away with it? She had been more then clumsy...you don't pickpocket someone's back pocket when all they're wearing are thin hempen shorts. It felt more like a grope.

Her full lips formed a soft frown. She wondered if she had a good place to sleep last night...

No. No, Lili, stop taking in strays. The last thing you need is a teenaged kleptomaniac! She gave her head a hard shake. As she did, her eyes caught sight of something on the floor. Rope, with part of it tied to the legs of her desk and the rest sprawled out against the floor.

Kaiten.

She had never seen him look...scared. Never seen him triggered in such a way that didn't have to do with his dreaming. Lili's pale green hues moved from looking down to the rope towards the partition where her modest bed lay on the other side holding her still dozing lover. Then down at her paperwork. More sleep actually sounded rather lovely.

Adding her scratchy signature to the parchment and taking another sip of her tea, she rose up and moved to go back to bed. The coming week boasted more jobs and employment opportunities for everyone. Helping new members get situated in their rooms, cashing in that cuddle time with Locke, teaching Ado how to cook, keeping an eye on everyone else...

At least things never got dull on the weekends.

Val · **10-12-2014, 03:22 PM**

"Would she really tell you? You do not look so certain of that. Perhaps you should ask her? Ah, but it hardly matters now. You can't get too mad at her about it, right? After all, we were just about to enjoy ourselves."

The words echoed through his head as Val sat in his room, staring at the random articles of clothing that lay scattered about the floor. He recalled it as if it were yesterday, the raven-haired, dark-skinned Keeper lying nude in his bed.

"Afraid you're going to enjoy yourself for once? Or are you afraid she's going to scold you? Yes, my master will certainly be displeased, too. But why should they not let us have our fun? You and I, we are very much alike... and so are they. A match made for each other. Should we not enjoy trueÂ pleasure together, and leave those two snobs to each other? They deserve each other... why, just a couple days ago, they nearly had each other... But she probably did not tell you that, did she? Who knows how long this affair of theirs has been happening... Do you have any idea what your lover does in her office?"

He didn't. Often times, the Seeker was with her, but when he had to go assist one of his soldiers or take care of business elsewhere, she was left alone. The voidsent woman had seen the expression of shock, confusion, and betrayal on his face and only sought to taunt him further.

"Because I wanted to accomplish something. Maybe I wanted to do you a favor? There is no such thing as love, no such thing as happiness. While you two parade around with smiles, you are only deceiving yourselves, living a delusion. I opened your eyes. You can thank me later. But for now... my job here is done."Â

And just like that she was gone, swallowed by the shadows that covered the bedroom. It had taken Val some time to gather himself amidst the uncontrollable rage and shaking. Part of him believed what the woman had said. He'd never thought 'love' to be anything other than a silly emotion that those with their head too high in the clouds believed in. It kept him from doing anything he reallyÂ wanted. It often times made him feel like a caged animal, and the woman's revelation suddenly made him realize that he had been a fool all this time.

The Seeker stood and clothed himself as quickly as his shaking, fumbling fingers would allow. He settled for a pair of jeans and wrapped a blue robe about his upper half, then made his way outside. It would be a long walk to their Company house, but he needed the time to think before he confronted her about the information he'd been given.

Aldotsk · **10-13-2014, 12:01 AM**

It's been shocking to her that she just couldn't accept Natalie's death. Â Anelia sits down in her office, holding her tears from Western Thanalan to Mist. She bursts out into tears, unable to handle the fact that her former friend and comrade has passed away.

Somehow she always felt that this would happen. She felt that with Natalie running into troubles with politics, crimes and other hidden secrets she had, someday everything will come right back at her. Anelia felt that it was herself to blame because she couldn't stop the girl from falling into more troubles.

She just wishes that she could have done more to stop Natalie. But apparently to Anelia's thought, she felt that she was a useless person. Not a friend, or even a comrade.Â

She stares at her old photos of her Sultansworn squad from many cycles before, and she smiled faintly and realizes that she can't shed any more tears because nothing will bring the girl back alive. The case went cold, and more corrupted people like Jameson Taeros Â are still free to corrupt Ul'dah. She started asking herself if even her abilities or even Crofte can stop the political corruption caused by Syndicates.

She decided to leave the political matter out of her hands. She takes a whiskey and started drinking it heavily to forget the matters tha has happened.

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