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B'ren Lyrgh · **08-24-2014, 01:14 AM**

Hell hath no fury

"Like a womanâ€™s scornâ€¦." Bâ€™ren finished in his head walking away from the Grindstone finishing match. The Roegadyn woman, Obsidian Hornet, had won it breaking Howlâ€™s arm in three places. Brutal, but effective. Howlâ€™s dancing feet werenâ€™t quiet enough to escape the Hornetâ€™s sting it seemed. Growing up Bâ€™ren had been told women have no REAL place in fighting and to let the other men protect them and be the back up. Now, of course, those particular men were put right in their place soon after but it always stuck with the Miqoâ€™te.

Never underestimate who you fight, not even a woman. One wrong turn and her heels will be in your eye with you begging for mercy. â€œAnd to think, I may have to fight her next week. Twelve watch over me, heh.â€ It wouldnâ€™t be long before he reached the Knuckles, ready to finally take a moment of rest. But it wasnâ€™t before placing a wrapped book by Berrodâ€™s room did he do so.Â

Jancis · **08-24-2014, 04:39 AM**

((Said I could do whatever I wanted to him. Lalala))

Jancis gratefully sat on the small bed in the equally small inn room. Her gil was spent. After Hornet had become champion (with a small congratulations), the conjurer had assisted Oscare back to Ul'dah. Laying down she stared at the ceiling for a minute before falling asleep recalling that she forgot to leave the man's glasses.

Earlier...

The Goblet had not been far, but the Quicksand was closer and they were both exhausted in mind and body. Jancis had enough gil to get the man a generous room at the Hourglass with a basin and large bed that would easily fit more than two people. The sheets were linen and soft, the pillows of down, and the stuffing of the matress a mix of padded blankets and fleece. It was warm and inviting in more ways than one.

Keeping the lights dim, she left him for awhile with a washcloth and a hot bucket of water to wash himself off as she found a large night shirt to buy on the strip. Granted it turned out to be too big, but it served its purpose to get the highlander out of the grim-clad and blood-soaked garments.

He had been so shaken up, and his violent outburst was even more concerning, that he stayed quiet even as she helped him wash his hair and put him to bed. Why she did not know; it was so unlike the man. As if he wasn't in control of himself...

She left a note before retiring to her own room:
Oscare,

The room comes with a meal. Pray eat when you awaken; you need your strength.

~Jancis

Whittledown · **08-24-2014, 10:21 AM**

Champion.

She had been called that at the Grindstone before but it didn't feel right until now. She had fought to earn that right. She fought three men, defeated three men. The first two with her axe, the last with her bare hands. She made a mental note to check in on Howl. Upon reflection her violence had been perhaps a bit too brutal and she wanted to make sure that she hadn't done any lasting damage to the miqo'te.

Check on Howl. Punch Oscare right in his stupid face. What the hell was wrong with him? The moment his wrist started glowing she assumed she would hear the call for disqualification but it never came. Instead he tried to kill her. Being a killer herself she knew what attempted murder looked like. And that blow from his axe would have ended her life if she hadn't thrown herself out of the way just enough to take the blow to her shoulder instead of her head. Still, she ended the fight and knocked him cold into the dirt.

That's probably what made her go after Howl so viciously in the next fight. Her rage. Twelve bless that she had the brief clarity to shed her armor and axe. If she'd had weapon in hand who knows what she would have done to him. She could have killed him and lost her own life in the repercussions. And if she had, she would have missed him.

He had come for her. Gharen. The last person she expected to see and he was there to watch her become a champion. All anger was washed away in a moment as she rushed to him, her heart leaping into her throat at even the most simple of conversations, the most casual of contact.

The went to the Quicksand, shared a drink. He took orange juice. As the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in she had taken him to a room at the Hourglass and laid with him there until morning. A perfect end to the day. A perfect start to the next. She had never felt more victorious in her life than she did just then.

Victory, real victory, was so precious and rare that when it came she never expected it. But now she was there. Proven on the battlefield. Her skills known to be the greatest. Her man by her side to cheer for her and make all the pain and rage melt away. A perfect victory.

Oscare · **08-24-2014, 12:48 PM**

"A failure. This is unacceptable."
Oscare lays flat on the medical bed of his free company's clinic. After resting up in the room he was so generously offered by Jancis, Oscare had a little too many things to consider.

B'ren had already done away with Oscare's Warrior soulstone, but that didn't make Oscare any easier about things. He needed to better his soul and body, so the next time he beserks, he can take control of it. It'd make stronger, not a monster. Embrace the beast, accept the anger, turn it into fury. Not raw rage. All things he learned through the village that accepted him to teach him.

Now that leaves Oscare with one last thing. Jancis. He grabs a sheet and starts scribbling.

McBeefâ„¢ · **08-25-2014, 06:09 PM**

Natalie sighs as she adjusts a small iron disk in the light of a sunrise. Things had become so complicated lately. She had thought returning to the Sultansworn would restore some stability in her life, but instead it had only complicated things further. This issue with Osric and the Red Wings was quickly getting out of hand, and the more she and Crofte dug, the more suspicious things they found. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an official investigation against the group, but that was looking more likely every day.

She sighs again, tying a bit of string to a metal rod. In the midst of all this, those damn Limsian sea dogs had to choose now of all time to cause trouble here on the mainland. She shakes her head sadly as she studies the cliffside, eyeing the Hornet's nest which had appeared two weeks ago. She'd been content to leave them be, much like the Limsian pirates, until one of them stung her yesterday while she was gardening. Now they must be elimnated.

Natalie makes a few more adjustments, chuckling evily. Things hadn't been all bad. There were new faces at their house now, Honzo, Iron... faces that hid secrets. Though secrets were no stranger to their house, and they were pleasant enough. Even came to help her when she was attacked the other night. Natalie screws a small cap onto a metal nib, assasins, she mused. Invoking the god of death none the less.

Assasins...

She frowns as she makes some final adjustments, lining up the hornet's next between a series of small metal poles.

Why would anyone ever want to assasinate her?

She nods to herself as she steps back, slipping on a pair of ear protectors, she's always tried to live her life in a way that avoids conflict with others. Maybe they had the wrong person?

She pulls the cable and an echoing boom resounds though the neighborhood, prompting the sleeping birds to take to the sky, and the sleeping residents to open their windows and begin shouting insults her way. Loudest of all are the ones coming from inside the house.

"Hmm... I think that woke up Porkchop."

She rolls her eyes, can't they see she's doing the community a service? Some people just can't think of the big picture. She peers up to the cliffside to study her handiwork... and it was a little too far to the left. Perhaps these cannon just weren't accurate enough.

"Maybe I shouldn't use cannon balls for pest control anyway..." She sighs, "It's a bit excessive isn't it... I should have picked something more suited to the task."

"KAGEEEEEE!" She shouts through their window, "WHERE DID YOU PUT THE GRAPESHOT?"

Lady Rivienne · **08-25-2014, 08:00 PM**

"How do you feel?" The voice resonates from behind her, and soon, accompanied by the flipping of paperwork in his hands. Scratches, from a quill, are made unto the documentation on his desk. His assistant was taking notes while he surveyed her.

"My body has recovered well after a full moon cycle, the wounds no longer carry the reminder of an ache," Rivienne had been sitting at the opposite side of his mahogany desk, watching him as he walked about, though did not share a gaze, yet. He was frowning some, concern was etched on his features.

"That is not what I meant, Maiden. Though according to this report, your injuries have indeed healed, miraculous, that. The rest of you, has it mended?" He finally reached for the spine of his seat and pulled it back. Upon seating himself, a fist cushioned his chin.

She sets her gaze downward and does not answer immediately, but Rivienne knew his patience was not to be tried so easily. "If you speak of that distraction, worry not, you will no longer hear of him. In regards to what happened in Coerthas -- I am still recovering from that blow." Steely was her gaze when it met his, and under the caress of shadow, her features appeared grim.

"I am well aware that you wish to use my knowledge of Coerthas for this assignment, but I don't think I am well prepared for venture there, again." She confessed, and it made his frown deepen. Discomfort was obvious in her posture, the tone of her voice; her body language spoke of worry and, perhaps, a touch of fear.

"You were given a direct order, Maiden, your evaluation has proven that you are fit, and right of mind, to continue. What the Ixal are doing, the activity happening here is somehow mirrored there as well, according to a few sources. This has caused concern, you and I both know the importance in preserving the peace." He sat back, watching her features, reading her like a volume.

"As do all Serpents," Rivienne whispered; her body was tense and thoughts of what took place, on the snow-kissed fields, replayed horrible images on the reel of her mind.

"This won't be a personal adventure of yours, and this isn't a punishment for your disappearing act before. You are one of the few that can infiltrate a camp, under such conditions, without being seen; such skills are crucial for this mission. I need you to monitor them, track down any strange behavior to its source. I have a man out there ready to receive you and Avenger without drawing attention." He paused and leaned over the desk, making sure their eyes did not tear away from each other.

"I am well aware the hornet's nest you stirred. I rather not see you clinging to life, again."

Whittledown · **08-26-2014, 11:36 AM**

Invisible and silent a single wisp of air moved against the current of wind. It had news to deliver. From the Goblet it carried the words spoken at Raubahn's Salute far from the speakers. Far from the woman that it had been assigned to follow. The wind, unthinking, knew only it's task. The value of the words it carried and the consequences of the delivery were things it had no conception of. No means to question if the thing should be done. It could only do it.

It impossibly wound it's way higher and higher into the mountains of Abalathia's Spine. It swept along high stone walls before slipping through a lattice covered window. The room it entered was warm and dark. Coals that ever-burned in the fireplace provided a dull heartbeat of light to the room, a heartbeat that mirrored the one who had kindled the endless fire long ago. The breath of wind carried it's words along the floor, then curling up the leg of the elegantly carved chair and to the statuesque woman who sat watching the coals.

The message was delivered in a whisper and the cruel lips of the woman split into a smile.

Askier · **08-27-2014, 01:42 PM**

"This sucks." Askier grumbled as he drove the shovel into the earth again and again. The miqo'te was in a hole almost as deep as he was tall and just as wide. A canvas tarp flapped overhead, held aloft by four poles at the corners and a series of ropes. A hyur sat beside the hole taking a sip from a water skin.

"What else should you be doing?" The hyur asked as he swallowed his mouthful of water.

"Either a beautiful woman or building stuff in my workshop." Askier shot back, throwing a shovel full of dirt outside the hole. Â "Hells, anything would be better than digging a latrine in the middle of the desert."

The hyur blinked and rolled his eyes.

"Wasn't meant to be a serious question mate." The hyur replied.

Â Askier grumbled and kept digging. Not nine bells ago, Askier had been extremely satisfied as he had left his room and Ashwynn in it. Then he had run into Kahn'a. Kahn'a who had waited in the Red Wings HQ lobby for him to come out. Askier had just wanted to get some tea. What he had gotten was an earful from his superior and a stern lecture regarding his recent behavior with his gun arm, followed by orders to head to Western Thanalan, to this mine, and report in for duty. So Askier had and here he was.

Askier brushed sweat from his brow. He couldn't be angry with Kahn'a. Kahn'a was just an officer doing his job and giving orders. Askier was slightly annoyed due to the timing and how completely unprepared he had been for Kahn'a tongue lashing, but that wasn't relavant.

Askier tossed another shovel load of dirt and sighed.Â

"You sure I can't just use a couple explosives and blow a hole for the latrine?"

Askier paused and looked at the hyur, who simply shook his head.Â

"Too risky with all the mine tunnels around and below us. You dig like everyone else."

Askier sighed and went back to digging.

**Unnamed Mercenary** · **08-27-2014, 09:18 PM**

Franz woke up in the morning with a horrible throbbing in his head. It was safe to assume it had to have been whatever Natalie had poured into the shot glasses. It certainly wasn't something for public consumption.Â

"No wonder she always gets hangovers..." As he stood up, the room around him wobbled for just a moment, and it took some time to adjust to standing and walking. Massaging his temples a little to try to ease the pain, he noted it was at least a quiet morning. The cannons had either not been used, or perhaps he was too drunk and tired to care if that had been. Regardless, it was time for some morning training and then he'd go to town later. Hopefully a run would burn off whatever alcohol was left.

*aÂ couple bells later*

The run had only made it worse. A very grumpy Franz had returned to the home in the Goblet, feeling worse than before. He growled a little "What the hells did we drink?!" Of course there would be a label on the bottle. That would have been the case if most Eorzeans were literate. Instead, he was left with the emptied bottle of something foul-smelling. His only guess was that it was related to Qiqirn Firewater.

It would be a long day. Might as well get something nice to eat in town and hope it would pass.

Whittledown · **08-29-2014, 01:43 PM**

"So what are you going to do?"

"Destroy her."

"How? She bested you the last time you confronted her."

"That was years ago. We were but children then."

"And what makes this time different?"

"I stayed with you and learned. She fled and thinks she is forgotten."

"She is protected."

"Not nearly so well as she believes."

"So you will target the man first?"

"Of course."

"Vengeance for the wrongs of old."

"Visited one-thousand times over."

"You've grown so strong. You are my true pride."

"Thank you mother."

Whittledown · **09-01-2014, 03:17 PM**

Dawn had crested and the cave groaned with the shifting of matter above it and the flow of the wind through tight spots. The great beast lowered it's head, peering into the half-light just outside the cave mouth. It would happen soon. The happless prey would stumble just close enough. They would hear the thunder, but the lightning would be far to swift to avoid.

Motion. The beast sprang into action, four powerful hooves carried it swiftly across the earth. A moment later it burst into the sunlight, it's great shaggy head lowered and it's horns glimmering like the blades of the reapers on scythe. The target was far too slow and it was over in an instant....

"Ow!" Hornet hopped on one foot in her bedroom holding her ankle where her tiny baby auroch, Granite, had slammed into her head first. The tiny bull sat on it's haunches, dazed from the impact for a moment before it looked up at Hornet.

"Snrffl!" Announced the beast, gloating over it's kill.

"You little butt." Hornet grinned down at her new pet as he clambered to his hooves and trotted purposefully back under Hornet's bed to patiently wait for the next moment to strike.

Coatleque · **09-02-2014, 05:39 PM**

Coatleque stood quietly in the training yard, sizing up her opponent. The unfortunate wooden dummy which had born the brunt of her frustrations tonight stood silently leering at her. Some deep gashes were already carved into the sides from some earlier maneuvers. There was a reason she preferred to train alone.

Tonight she was trying her best to distract herself. She had stood silently near the bar earlier and heard a long portion of their conversation. She knew the woman saw her as well. The way she just cozied right up to Warren, it was as if she was putting on a show. Specifically trying to drive a wedge between them. Natalie's timing only made things worse. Coatleque couldn't be mad at Mcbeef, though. She had done nothing wrong in this case.

But that woman, holding his hand like that. It irked her. Probably more-so when he did nothing to avoid it. She sighed and looked around the yard once more trying to clear her head, to focus on her maneuvers. Torchlight from behind and before her competed in the now chilling breeze to cast long shadows across the path in front of her.

Her sword's tip slid across the sand in front of her before she raised it once more parallel to the ground. With a cry she lunged forward once more with a hard feint to the right. Now entirely focused her feint ended with a reverse overhead spin as she unconsciously weaved the aether around her into her own momentum. Circling around the sword met the side of the dummy with a sickening crack followed by splintering wood.

She stepped back and wretched her sword from the dummy whose top half was now precariously leaning to the side, having nearly been split in half. "Gods damn it!", she exclaimed as she staggered backwards, trying to catch her breath. "That's coming out of my pay..."

Warren Castille · **09-03-2014, 08:55 AM**

A letter was waiting for Coatleque the following day.

Ser Crofte,

While we appreciate you leaving a letter accepting responsibility for the destruction of one of our training dummies, we have already spoken with the one responsible. He insisted you were going to claim it was your doing and that you would request the cost of the repairs be docked from your pay. This will be unnecessary as the free paladin in question has already footed the bill. You keep strange, brutish company but you get results, so far be it from me to chastise you.

Respectfully,

Instructor Simmons
Inventory Supervisor

Berrod Armstrong · **09-03-2014, 10:27 AM**

Berrod Armstrong approached the door to the headquarters of the Astral Agents, juggling quite a few parcels in his large arms. Ground provisions! Popotoes, sweet popotoes and a few other common edible roots. He had promised Drystfarr the bartender that he'd keep the place stocked with stew for a few days to give him a break from cooking. While the Sea-Wolf didn't seem keen on the lack of variety, stew was all Berrod was particularly good at cooking. His attempt to bake bread had produced fortress-worthy bricks and his grilled steaks all seemed to have earned the ire of a thaumaturge. The highlander had even been forbidden from making salads, due to an unfortunate incident involving a mixup of kale and poisonous nettle. Nevertheless, a promise was a promise.Â

Carefully he shifted all the items to one arm and opened the door with the other. The moment he stepped in, a familiar tingle at the back of his neck led him to the instant belief that there were eyes on him. Quickly he spun to see who was behind him -- but there was no one at the gate, nor in the street. There was a Brass Blade patrol several yalms away, but both their backs were to him as they moved south. With a slow exhale, Berrod grumbled to himself, irritated by his paranoia. There was work to be done -- he couldn't afford to be jumping at each whisper of wind across the back of his neck. Briskly, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. No one there, nothing to worry about.

[Image: rO0XENf.jpg]

cuideag · **09-03-2014, 08:23 PM**

What are you doing?

The question was always the same, but the voice who asked it changed and fluctuated to -- what could it be, mood? Whim? Whatever it was, it was above all unwelcome. It may have explained the drink in her hand: some frozen concoction an unnatural shade of blue and violet which had been, at one point, set aflame by the small miqo'te who had grudgingly brought it out to her. It was just the fourth one in... probably so many bells? Probably. The sun was still somewhere overhead so she could not worry too much of that. Its placement was, as it stood, of no importance.

Delial sipped and nursed, helping along the never-quite-strong-enough haze of casual inebriation. The beach stretched wide on either side of her, broad spans of pristine white sand mostly untouched but for a the few faint tracks of those who came and went. Specifically: Â herself, and the lighter patter of that miqo'te waiter. There were probably others, too, but as she could not see them nor the creatures who left them behind, she cared not to think on them too hard. Out of sight was out of mind and Delial, for once, was happier for it.

Yes, yes. But what are you doing?

Father asked her once when he first caught wind of the witch. Then he asked his dear wife, the flame of his life, the mother of his children. The woman could only smile, of course, and nod away his worries. There was naught to fear, of course, and little to worry about. The Gods were always kind to those devoted and little Delial would be no different.

Brother, too, had found the question on their tongues, both of them: Westor with rage in his eyes, Harvard with terror. What are you doing? Can't you see? What do you hope to achieve? She thought on it more and more as the days passed, fighting the feeling of being adrift with every onze of strength she could muster. Indignation curled her lip and she silently snarled at the sea as to prove something, but the waves would carry on, carry off, wash away everything they touched.

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