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

Jancis · **09-24-2014, 05:38 PM**

Jancis walked around Limsa, her demeanor better than before. She had recovered from the majority of her wounds, mental and physical, as had most of the company who fought against the insane mage.

She still thought about his hands, raw from scratching at the walls and chain that bound her friend in place. L'aenoh had survived, surely from sheer force of will, but was still dealing with recovery. Particularly the withdrawal.

Receiving news from Master Chuchukepa on behalf of the Ossuary, the main poison in the swordsman's system had been somnus, and Jancis knew very little about it. Asking the local merchants about the item had only gotten her wary looks and one of the older ladies berated her for the inquiry. After a slew of apologies, Jancis decided to try elsewhere.

Making her way to the airship, Jancis headed to the jewel of the desert. Surely someone there would answer her inquiry on the poison.

The poison's treatment wasn't the only thing on her mind. She wanted to meet up with Oscare, her thoughts drifting to the letter in her pocket and the words in it, and hopefully see that confident smile on his face once again.

TheShade · **09-30-2014, 12:32 AM**

Now with Limsa behind him and his work over there done for now, the cloaked figure is traveling on a ship. As the figure waits to arrive at his next destination he speaks into his pearl in near whispering but clear tone

"I will be arriving within a days time be sure to have narrowed down the possible area's upon my arrival, the quicker we locate what we need the sooner we can leave before the situation gets troubling. Has anything outside of your current situation occurred that is of interest? " a voice responds through the pearl and after a moment the figure speaks again.

"The person in Ul'dah you speak of is but one of many speakers I have sent out to stir the people and find others who share our ideals. Slowly but surely as our actions gain momentum the words of the speakers will fester in the minds of those who walk with the light." The slightest grin appears on the cloaked figures face before finishing "If there is nothing else be sure to provide results when I arrive." The voice on the linkpearl quickly responded before cutting out.

The cloaked figure once done gets up and moves to the front of the ship and looks into the night sky "Now then will we find what we seek? or will it remain shrouded in mystery?"

Unbeknownst to those who reside in the shroud a dark curtain has already descended upon them.

Coatleque · **09-30-2014, 12:53 AM**

Continued from here...
Coatleque sat in her room at the Hourglass in front of the small vanity. She was clad in dark leather and cloth, a fly-mask to conceal most of her face. Everything had been closed and packed. She now spent her last score of minutes in penning two letters. Should her mission go terribly wrong, at least someone would follow her.

Quote:Jancis,
I write you now as I must needs inform you my whereabouts. By the time you read this I will be in Limsa Lominsa. Should I succeed in my mission there I shall be proceeding onward to Coerthas, and beyond Dragonhead. Should the Twelve show mercy I will return within a sevenday. Should they not, you must needs shew this letter to Natalie Mcbeef. She will know what to do.

With love always,
~CiCi

Quote:Warren,
I realize that above all others you would not expect to see mine writing again. I leave in less than a bell for Limsa Lominsa on urgent business. I could not inform the others lest I jeopardize my mission. If all goes to plan, I shall be stowed aboard a ship bound north and then to Coerthas, Providence Point. From there my fate will be unknown, though I pray Halone will be kind to me. Should we not meet again, know that I bear you no ill for the way we have parted. I pray you find peace at last in the arms that now hold you.

With all mine heart,
~Coatleque

Within the second letter she also enclosed a flower. A single Nymeia lily which had been pressed dry. It had been left for her at one time along her bedside and she had kept it since that day.

She left both letters for the attendant to deliver to the moogle, then strapped her sword to her side. The boat would be ready soon.

Kellach Woods · **09-30-2014, 07:06 PM**

Kellach had been through... well, before he would have said "a lot", now he would say "very little of importance" in an attempt to not sound affected by all that transpired. Suffice it to say that merely saying it does not remove the burning feeling in his gut of getting verbally smacked down by someone he respects due to being very immature and irresponsible about things. However, it does place everything into perspective.

Granted, this is what happens when someone takes themselves out of their element and enters a world that functions by its own rules. Ones that he should have learned before coming. That, however, does not excuse his atrocious self-centered behavior. He, at the very least, is starting to see that now.

Walking the streets of Limsa Lominsa on a rare day off, he would look at the wares in Hawkers' Alley, looking for very specific items. Not any would suffice, after how easily they were snatched from him. Nay, an active man needed gear made for these activities.

Behind him was his newfound trusty pet, a smallshell that had followed him after some particularly gruesome events, struggling to catch up to its self-appointed "master". Ask the crab, and you would likely hear a pincer drum solo that proudly declared his crab name in crab language.

In human language though, it was slightly less proud.

"Here Pinchyshell!" Kellach said, lowering his arm to let the smallshell climb onto his shoulder. He reached into his pouch to get some pieces of dry algae that he'd collected to feed him when he was near.

Finally, he saw a stand that looked like they had what he was looking for. Pinchyshell looked around for an area to stretch its legs. It was tired of just standing on the same shoulder. Without warning, it started climbing the back of Kellach's hair only to stop on his head. The vendor looked positively puzzled at the strange man with long flowing locks with red highlights, opaque red lipstick, and a crab on his head that was clapping its pincers like it'd just won the lottery.

"Hee, crab hat!" said Kellach, giggling right after. "Say, would you happen to have some extremely sturdy undergarments?"

Parvacake · **10-01-2014, 10:50 AM**

Giving a grunt, Lili loaded the last box of Ado's things onto the little cart just outside their now previous residence of the Gold Court. Wiping her brow, she leaned back with a grimace, letting her back give a little twinge before cracking with an obnoxious sound that startled her chocobo, Milo, who was hooked up to the cart. Her menagerie of critters also peered down at her from atop one of the boxes: Sire the goobue sproutling aimlessly staring into nothingness and drooling while swinging his stubby little legs, the household mammet sitting dormant besides Sire with its back resting against the seated flank of Dot the fawn, and Ado's pet dodo was snoozing in a makeshift nest of blankets and trilling besides the equally snoozing Tub-Tub the baby puk.

And on the driver seat in his own pile of blankets was her adopted son. His little body propped with blankets and pillows so as to be comfortable, blonde hair tossled and sucking on his knuckles in his sleep. The sight warmed her heart, and she allowed a tiny smile to come to her lips before looking back to the house. There was still something she needed to do...

With a small measure of hesitance, Lili moved back through the doorway and towards the kitchen. The house was quiet, with some of the furniture already moved out to Kayah's new house he now shared with the rest of his group. She'd be going to her own company residence until she found a more suitable location for her and Ado both, but before she could do that she needed to relieve herself of a few things.

The first was a chain around her neck. Thin, silver, with little finger bells at the end of it, she slipped it off her head and gently placed it on the dining room table. The next?

Her engagement ring.

A silver band of silver leaves entwined around an elegant little diamond in the middle, Kayah had made the joke that there should be a third entity at play since she had been a Hyur, he a Miqo'te, her adopted son a Lalafell...so why not make the ring Elezen in make? It took a moment of wiggling, but she managed to slip the ring off and set it gently atop the table next to the finger bells.

She didn't really care what he did with either artifact. It wasn't her concern any more. All that mattered was the little boy dozing in the cart outside.

Slowly, she took a moment to twirl in place and look around the room. Her alchemy shed was cleared out. The sheets cleaned and bed made. Floors scrubbed. Whenever he came back to finish moving things out or doing whatever he had planned with the place, at least it'd be tidy. The look to fall over her pale green eyes was fleeting and unreadable, though her expression seemed calm enough as she stepped out the door and quietly shut it behind her.

The only things she left behind were in Ado's now mostly empty room: A chocobo clock with a timeworn black leather collar draped over top of it.

Coatleque · **10-02-2014, 10:23 AM**

A letter, recently delivered to a rather extravagant office in Ul'dah

Quote:Master Jameson Taeros,

I must needs have words with you with regards to a matter of protection over a certain establishment in Ul'dah. I hope you could find the time to meet with me privately to discuss the Blade's excessive taxation. I would prefer this matter be settled between the two of us; Ser Mcbeef need not be present. This has no bearing on any current investigations, but is a personal matter to mine self.

Sincerely,
~ Lady Crofte

BadDJuJu · **10-02-2014, 01:34 PM**

â€œWelcome to the Bismarck! How are you today?â€

â€œIâ€™m wehll, thank you.â€

â€œPardons, but have you made a reservation?â€

The dark complexioned Miqoâ€™te nodded in reply.

â€œName?â€

â€œJujahâ€™to Irahâ€

The waitress traced her finger down a list atop her tray, â€œAh, here it is! A table for one?â€

â€œIhf you wouhld, please.â€

Â â€œFollow me,â€™ she grinned at him, and began walking towards the main balcony dining. Another waitress weaves her way around the busy late dinner. Â She is somehow of the ability to precariously balance a mere four plates atop her tray, while carrying a fifth in her hand. But the noise. Itâ€™s the fourth Air bell, for Twelvesake. Though the water view dining was ideal on the main balcony, the bustling and conversation of the diners, the call of gulls, the crashing waves, and clang of a hustling kitchen were too much.

Jujahâ€™to quickly looked around desperately, spotting a back patio with limited seating, and grabbed the waitressâ€™s attention. He pointed back behind them to the lone empty table on the patio. She, thankfully, smiled and answered with a friendly, â€œSure!â€

â€œThere you are, and enjoy youâ€™re meal,â€ she said, setting down a menu book and sheet. Â He wondered if she remembered him from the day before. Jujahâ€™to had only arrived days prior, and after a few expeditions through the city, he finally stumbled upon The Bismarck. It was the only one so far not too rough around the edges. She had prompted him for a reservation then, which he admittedly did not have.â€œBut not to worry, weâ€™ll pen you in for one now, if it begs your pardons.â€

With a sigh of relief, Jujahâ€™to sat, arranging his pack atop one of the empty seats. He didn't need to tote it around with him everywhere, but he did not trust his most precious valuables in his room. City of Pirates, indeed, and he was not about to find out just how this city would live up to that name. Yellowjacket presence or no.

â€œAfternoon, sir, may I bring you something to drink?â€

â€œYes, wahter please.â€ He smiled up at the new waitress attending him.

â€œCertainly,â€ she beamed upon exit, returning shortly with his water. He asked for five minutes before ordering.

Rifling through his pack, Jujahâ€™to pulled out a couple of sturdy letters. The first being subject of his transfer. While part of the Guild in Gridania, this is his first visit to Limsa. For proper assignment at the Guild Â here, he was written a transfer letter, courtesy of Mother. The other letter, he opened for review, not for the first time since receiving it.

At-will contract of services aiding the Limsa Lominsa Yellowjacketsâ€¦ use of abilities in rapid recovery of any injuries sufferedâ€¦ possibility of compensation for any other services outsourcedâ€¦ pay contingent upon contribution givenâ€¦ agree to to be called upon variably with payment due for each individual instance...Â

He sat back, considering. While hardly a bad deal--healing does not come cheap--he was not sure it would be enough to sustain him without consistency. Heâ€™d have to do something else for work here. Though crime does not run a muck here, he is hesitant by virtue of the still edgier atmosphere this city commands in comparison to Gridania. And Gridania is his first city to experience beyond the Shroud. This was all foreign enough, as it was. Looking for work only solidified his stay.

With a weary look across the way, Jujahâ€™to put his bag in his lap, discreetly counting the Gil within. While not something he held in high regard in the past, his aptitude for Mathematics has always been sufficient. And even if not regularly exercised before the Calamity, he now knows the value of budgeting, and so has changed much of his ways. Enough to last a week. He should be able to find something by then, no?

Yes. Watching the waitresses lithely move table to table, and one veer in his direction, he could feel a sense of urgency. He quickly picked up the menu book. Drinks; no thank you. He skimmed the single sheet;Â pan-seared Mutton, La Noscean lettuce, Ruby Tomatoes, Aldgoat Cheese, topped with Cinderfoot Olive Oil. Perhaps he could start here.

â€œPardons, sir, you are ready to order?â€

Jujahâ€™to nodded, â€œMight I first inquihure ihf The Bismrck is hihring?â€

She scanned the bustling dining room and put her hands on her hips, â€œYou know, I donâ€™t really know. We could possibly use the help, but Iâ€™ll have to ask Hâ€™lahono what she thinks. But youâ€™re best bet is to ask the Receptionist within.â€

â€œWill do," Jujah'to flashed her his best smile, "And Ihf you wouhld, Iâ€™ll ohrder Â the Muhtton Caprese.â€

C'kayah Polaali · **10-02-2014, 02:45 PM**

C'kayah arrived in Limsa the same day that he'd met Red and the Bubblegum Girl in Thanalan. They were having one of their off-and-on cold autumns: thirty-four degrees with his breath white in the air. His pocket bulged with Red's somnus, a bottle of mandissarette for a dancer who worked out of the Drowning Wench, and his silver flask.

Red was a new one. Tall and strong, with long red hair and a sad face. She was a 'sworn, which always made him pause, but she had already made good on her promise to keep the Blade's heat off of his shipments in Thanalan. She wanted the somnus for a friend, she said, but he didn't really care. He'd told Kenthy he did it to keep Red in his pocket, and he told himself he did it to help keep the Blade's tax men away from Aya, but he was really doing it for Red. Her eyes were so sad when she'd asked him for the favor, he couldn't bear to say no.

He wasn't the sort of man to plan things out too far in advance. His instincts had served him well, so he trusted to them. It looked like they'd served him again. The Bubblegum Girl worked the Thanalan black market, and was sitting on a fist-sized bag of the stuff. When Kenthy came back from meeting the Pirate, with a story about needing goods moved through Thanalan, the pieces snicked together. The Pirate and the 'sworn were locked in a sort of Ala Mhigan standoff. The 'sworn had locked the Pirate out of Thanalan, and in retailiation the Pirate was choking off shipping from Limsa to Ul'dah. C'kayah's business was smuggling, and the increased demand was making him money almost faster than he could count it. It wasn't a stable situation. Revenge was satisfying, but the Pirate couldn't live off of revenge forever. Better to scratch the Pirates back, and get his back scratched in return.

C'kayah could move the Pirate's goods, Red had arranged that when she and his ex had conspired to take down Melkire and wanted his help. The Bubblegum Girl could take delivery, keeping the Pirate happy, and the Pirate in turn would hold his focus on the 'sworn's shipping. The only real threat was Red's immunity, so it turned out he had a good reason for helping her after all.

The Drowning Wench was empty tonight, just a few sad sailors drinking their pay while a waitress in stockings dabbed at the same spot of floor with a mop. Naia leaned against the bar, beautiful in her dancer's blacks, and he greeted her with a kiss, slipping the bottle of perfume into her hand. She beamed at him, her teeth bright in the dim light of the bar. "I got a modeling job," she said. "Some Lala named Gus doing a themed party."

"He pays well, I've got friends who work for him."

"It'll be nice to get away from sailors, you know?"

C'kayah watched one of the sailors squinting through his glass of rum at a lamp. He nodded, kissed her again, and left to get a room. Red was due to contact him tonight, tomorrow at the latest, and he didn't want to carry the somnus around until that happened. It was time to check in with Kenthy, anyways, while things were still quiet.

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

The drunken Highlander had taken this route a thousand times. Up the street, around the corner, through the alley then right; a few doors down then he could stumble into his home for his wife to crack him over the head with a rolling pin. Even in an intoxicated stupor the routine had rendered his path almost automatic. The only thing that stayed his steps was the thought of that rolling pin. His wife was never at all gentle with it. On the bright side, if it was dusted with flour he knew that he could expect fresh bread and pastries the next morning to deal with the hangover.Â

As drunk as he was, the man instantly knew that something was wrong the moment he turned to stagger into the alley. It caused him to lurch to a stop and stare blearily. Usually, he could see through to the street on the other side. The street itself was badly lit, but there was always that sure slice of dim lamp post light to indicate where the alley opened up into the other road. Tonight, there was naught but blackness.Â

An ordinary darkness it was not; it came with a hint of foreboding and bore a certain heavy thickness to it that caused a sluggish apprehension within his bones. Perhaps he had enjoyed more alcohol tonight than he had during most, but this...this sheer black at the end of the dingy passageway...it was far from natural. It seemed as though the dirty walls and the rubbish-laden floor faded into nonexistence. Yet, that non-existence felt solid, as if...

...as if there was someone standing there.

The intoxicated Highlander clumsily reasoned that it could not be so -- never had there been anyone in his little path after his rounds at the bar. Perhaps his reasoning was fueled by a need to reduce the amount of rolling-pin blows he was due to receive, but he allowed himself to believe it and pushed into the alley at a tilting, bandy-legged hobble. Even as he proceeded a few fulms along the brick-bordered pass the darkness beyond did not lift. Sudden caution gripped him and he stopped dead, the contrived reasoning now quite inadequate for the purpose of moving on.

There was someone there. He felt it on his skin, in his nose, behind his eyes, and in his heartbeat.

The Highlander was smarter than that, even drunk off his toes. It was a dizzy spin, but he rotated at once to leave the alley back the way he came.Â

...But there was only darkness where the road had been. The beginnings of terror gripped him, cold and prehensile within his innards. Was this a drunken hallucination? If so, why did it all feel so menacing?

He realized his mistake the moment he had turned around. The hairs at the back of his neck tugged at the flesh and alarm klaxons went off in his head. If there was someone in that darkness behind him, the worst thing he could do was put his back to it. It was so that he spun around again to face the mysterious, invisible presence. Yet, it was no longer invisible.Â

Two golden eyes stared out at him, reflective, glittering and wide of pupil. He could see no whites; they looked simply like two shiny rings that fixated upon his very being. Had the alcohol in his blood not dulled his reflexes, the man would have perhaps jumped a fulm into the air. Instead, all he managed was a sluggish, incomplete step backward.

Below the eyes a white, horizontal split opened, revealing teeth which a wide grin arranged itself around. It was a man's mouth, clearly -- not a beast's. The teeth were neither sharp nor jagged, neither was the pink tongue forked. Just a normal mouth. Still, it elicited another step backward.Â

"Don't go."

It spoke -- he spoke. The voice was a rumbling, gentle bass through which each word was enunciated with crisp sophistication. It bore a terrible yet seductive quality that confused his legs between flight and approachable intrigue. Unable to choose one or the other, they remained rooted on the spot.Â

Out of the darkness he emerged; it pulled away from him like a wet curtain. Dark of skin and grey of hair; his face was tattooed in a deep, matted ebony that gave his Roegadyn's countenance a fearsome finality. He bore a wicked, overjoyed grin, as the pupils within the gold shrank to pinpricks. The Highlander was certain by all means that death had come, and he was too damned drunk to do a thing about it.

"You will do," He assessed, "You will do nicely."

Ermine · **10-04-2014, 12:17 PM**

It was not that the scholar Nivie Georjeaux did not want to be present among the thronging crowd of people at the tavern's summer send off: it was that there were people present, and it is remarkably exhaustive to pretend insecurity is disdain.

The flyer had shown up, inconspicuously, in her mail - the retainer she had hired to tend to her business while she traveled chasing the faintest hint of a lead had contacted her by linkpearl, her voice soft as she asked, "And what would you have me do with this, Miss Georrrrjeaux?"

She had contemplated on it for the day, and it set in her mind, an unbidden - yet, not entirely unwelcome - guest, what had come calling, and one invites to stay for tea and to tell a story or two of what they've seen. Eventually curiosity won out over anxiety, and the night before, ("Approximately 11pm, on Wednesday night" she mentally notes) she sets out, she walks to the neighborhoods - her feet soft beneath her as she browses the neighborhoods of Mist, meandering through.

She had met three - Val, a miqo'te. A bodyguard. Yume? Yune? Nivie bit her lip; she would be able to put name to face, but as calm returned to her, she knew, but at the moment, she blanked: she was nervous as well. Kind, but lacking in confidence. Nivie liked her immediately. Finally, the Lady Faye Covington: hers was the name upon the invitation to the tavern's celebration, and she had an air of control about her - Nivie watched, as she does, Val called her "Princess" and it wasn't entirely in jest: Lady Covington seemed to swell with pride at every use of it, and Nivie found herself encouraged.

The next day - same day, rather, it had been rather late when Nivie finally begged off to find her bed at Limsa's inn - she had gone to the tavern, had gone with little expectations and less idea of what she would find there, and the answer was people, a multitude of people, and the quiet voice in her head of "I feel uneasy" had begun it's screaming defiance, "I DO NOT WANT THIS!"

To keep calm, Nivie found a quiet spot to stand, to watch people, to bite her tongue and breathe, in. Out. Inhale. Exhale. "This is meant to be a time to MEET people," she argued with herself, "But this is too many people!"

She stayed - she made polite conversation. She bristled at the over the top flirtations of others about her, and after a reasonable amount of time (a half hour, no less, no more) had passed, she excused herself with an apology.

Maybe next time, maybe next week would be kinder.

Jael'li · **10-05-2014, 12:55 PM**

He had heard the stories of Ulâ€™dah, but none quite seem to light a candle to what he now witnessed. Within the glorious trade-city there were many less than pristine areas. Alleyways where Syndicate 'business' ran unbridled, told testament in the broken corpses often uncovered within them; cheap brothels chock-full of soiled doves, long ago broken and empty-eyed. The Jewel of the deserts had many ugly facets beneath its wealthy, gleaming face. Perhaps most noteworthy of those deplorable areas that fine noble folk avoided at all costs was the festering abscess the locals called Pearl Lane. The mere presence of sickly and desperate refugees acted as something of a ward against all but the most stout-hearted locals. Brass Blades kept their distance; even Immortal Flames who had less to fear for their vastly more honorable mantle as an order skirted the alley on their way to the Court or to Sapphire Avenue, offering the alley's residents a wide berth.

â€œShed your Light upon Creation. Show me the path of Righteousness so that I may carry out your will.â€

The uttered prayer nearly lost in the howling wind that chilled the night. Kane blinked, causing the veil of thought blurring his vision to dissipate. Once again, his senses expanded outwards to take in the sight of his work.

A Highlander lay there on the paved stones that lined the street, wearing naught but linen pants and traveler's boots. His large chest expanded as he drew ragged breaths. Both hands were bloodied as they covered his left eye, one hand overlapping the other to effectively stymie the flow of crimson.

Kane's attention dropped to his own hand, where both index and forefinger were coated in blood. The feeling of those appendages sinking knuckle deep into the socket was seared into him, allowing him a vivid recollection even when the blood began to crust.

The man's lips moved, his upper tier curled in a rictus snarl. His one good eye was alight with hatred focused solely on him. Kane didn't need to understand what was said, knowing full well the man had likely uttered a series of curses supplemented by a promise of swift justice.

"My heart breaks for you." Kane said with a cant of his head, his blood-flecked features awash with concern. His voice was soothing, nurturing; as though he were speaking to a child. "For you to live in the squalor, your days filled with naught but the need to survive. It is a pitiful existence indeed..."

Advancing towards the man, a mere three strides until he was looming over him, the Midlander knelt down and pressed his hand against the prone Highlander's shoulder in a comforting manner. "I offer you a way out, friend. With me you can leave these streets of iniquity and rise up to the Empyrean. You can be a tool for the Twelve, a conduit for their Righteous fury.""All you need is obedience."

L'yuta · **10-05-2014, 08:50 PM**

Stepping into Ul'dah for the first time in five years sent shivers up his spine, but stepping outside of the city walls and into the desert south of town caused K'akhi to freeze in his tracks, golden eyes darting nervously across the rocky horizon far in the distance and tail thrashing anxiously.

To be entirely honest, life before the Calamity was a bit of a blur. He hadn't been that young either - fifteen, just shy of sixteen - but light, heat, fire and flame devoured all the gentler memories he had held. But he remembered the dirt, the sand, the sparse greenness - nothing like the Black Shroud, the place he currently called home.

He lifted his head to breathe in the arid desert air, and it was the same as he remembered, but newer, fresher, cleaner. The Calamity took life away, but that same life grew back, stronger than ever, in the same way the Thanalan had always been - tough, resistant, and unconquerable - just like the tribes that lived there.

K'akhi closed his eyes and in hesitant, almost inaudible voice, murmured, "I'm home."

(After a moment of embarrassed silence, the young Miqo'te spun on his heel and darted back inside the walls of the city. He'd visit his old tribe one day. Just maybe not today.)

Berrod Armstrong · **10-06-2014, 09:17 AM**

The baby had begun fussing in the crib. It was an irritated bleat that was simply just designed to get attention.Â

A groan of exasperation ensued from the adjacent bedroom, where a man and his wife had only just begun to become intimate. The groan had come from the man, who rolled to the side and hit the sheets, utterly defeated. The woman chuckled and leaned in for a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry love, the man of the house has spoken."

"Aye, that he has. Shall I go or...?"

"No, no. You relax, I'll take care of it."Â

She slipped off the bed and moved to grab a robe from the closet, eliciting another groan from him as she covered her figure. Out of decency, he rose and found a wrapping of his own.Â

The woman entered the room with the crib, where the fussing baby had reduced his bleating to an indignant gurgle. Slowly, she picked him up. Bright green eyes stared back at her under an astonishing mass of orange-red hair. He couldn't have been yet a year old. The fussing immediately stopped and progressed into a joyful cackle. He wasn't hungry or hurt or sick.

He just wanted to play.Â

The man had approached to lean on the door frame, observing his wife and child. It was not the gratification he had originally sought out, but the sight of them was fulfilling nonetheless. A smile crept onto his face as she began to sing to her son in the sweet voice that had wooed him those few years ago.Â

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day

For love may come and tap you on the shoulder some starless night

Just in case you feel you want to hold her

You'll have a pocketful of starlight.

She rocked the child gently as she sang and sure enough, the melody lulled the baby boy into a peaceful slumber. A quarter bell more was given for affection and then finally, he laid him down.Â

"How is he?" The man asked gently.Â

"He's fine. I think he'll last a few hours more...we can go try again, if you want."Â

"Heh. I would...but I think our little Berrod made it clear. He doesn't want us trying for another just yet."

Jancis · **10-06-2014, 07:48 PM**

*CRASH*

Jancis stared at the vial that had flew across the room and smashed on her shelf. In a hurry she went to clean up the mess of glass bits and liquid on the wall.

"Oh thank Thaliak." she spoke aloud to no one, a sigh of relief that spread through her whole body. She hadn't hit the figurine.

Jancis picked up the little rosewood crane, smiling lightly as she buffed it with her handkerchief and placed it back on the shelf. It was an endearing gift, for its handiwork and attention to detail was worth far more than the gil someone would place upon it. Oscare had made it, and her thoughts drifted to the hunter.

She had to tell him she did not need the favor he offered. In fact, that's why she nearly hit the wooden crane. Cici had handled that, with the help of Lord C'kayah and his generous nature, Jancis had procured enough somnus for her. She was in the middle of preparing her detoxification serum when the strap broke, sending the vial flying.

And there was another reason to write him. She needed help, looking at the record book Ridley had given her on behalf of Otto Vann. It had lists of places and facts about Alveo in it. And Alveo had chosen not to come back. Even if he might be dead now, he left to stay gone no matter how long Jancis waited for him.

Picking up parchment, she wrote to Oscare:

Dear Oscare,

I write you in haste that you might not be troubled about my previous dilemma. It has been handled though there are not enough words at what your offer means to me. Sir L'aenoh slowly recovers, though there is much to handle and I fear I will be weakened by the time that solution comes to fruition.

There is another matter that I ask for your assistance and support in. My heart is heavy of late and my thoughts wander back to that portrait I spoke to you about many moons ago. Perhaps I long for some connection or, at the very least, a distraction from these current events.

I have inquired about that portrait once again with the Maelstrom, but it has gone missing from their safe house nor was it auctioned off. I would much like to find it once more and hopefully where it had come from. You have some connections within that know how things go missing, mayhaps one of them would know of such a disappearance.

If not, I understand. Regardless your answer, I thank you.

Be safe and well,

Jancis

Berrod Armstrong · **10-07-2014, 09:41 AM**

The sun had not yet touched the Sil'Dih ruins; the peach colored skies had barely yet seen the light of morn. Yet under the waterfall, Berrod Armstong stood, naked and alone, braced against the cold torrent of water that deluged him. His hair was loosed from its tail and flowed down to the middle of his back, dark red and matted against his skin. His clothing was piled on a rock not far away, dusty and dirty enough to have warranted the impromptu bath -- but not what spurned it. The Highlander needed comfort, and he found showering water was one of the most comforting things of all.

Berrod ran through the plan in his head over and over. There was always an hour of the early morning when no one stirred in the Agency house, and he was easily able to extract himself from his bed mate - if he was even allowed in the bed by then. Their last fight...it had not been pleasant. It had never been a problem for him to move around quietly, and it was easy Â to get down to the vault. All he'd need was a good shoulder bag, enough to stuff the raw coins in. He'd leave the gems. Selling gems was always suspicious. There'd be no need for him to pack clothing, food or supplies, either; with his take from the vault he'd be able to provide himself with new things and then some.Â

The hardest part would be leaving Caleb behind. A whole year had gone since the two had bonded and become almost inseparable; he would just have to take that pain and go forward. He knew Caleb would hurt -- probably hate him for the rest of his life; but he'd heal. It was okay for him to be hated; what he planned to do was despicable. Leaving Grimm behind, Camy, Sarij, Iex, Avenio, I'sen, Athe, Zindelo and all the others...it didn't have to be so difficult; a year ago he didn't know any of them. A year from now it wouldn't matter. Just another thing he did to survive.Â

Sudden nausea overtook him and he doubled over. Anxiety had come in the form of sickness and physical pain. Luckily, he hadn't eaten anything; all that came up was a dry, belching rasp. Three times he retched emptily before straightening up again, trembling from head to toe. He mustered all the willful ignorance he possessed to fight the tempest of emotions and cautions down. It was for the best. This wasn't the life for him. The people he met had come and stolen him from his world, his home. He could never go back to that place, not without being found easily -- but he could start deciding on his own destiny for once.Â

The sudden resentment at the thought was thickly bitter, and angered him to the point where he made solid fists at his sides. It served to strengthen his resolve to do what he wanted to do. As for stealing the gil from the vault -- it was not even enough. He deserved more for being thrown into this situation, for enduring everything he had. He was entitled to it. With that settled, he began to Â plan beyond his flight.Â

The first stop would be Limsa -- it was a place where a name was easy to change, and new papers were easy to come by with enough gil -- which he had. A visit to an Aesthetician afterward was intended to change his appearance. Loose his hair some, color it blond, or brown perhaps. Black, even. Change the way he dressed. Maybe walk around in armor for a bit. From there he'd travel back to Ul'Dah to register in the Adventurer's Guild under his new name, bearing his new appearance. After that; Revenant's Toll. The crowd of adventurers there was perfect for him to get lost in. Hells, he'd even do adventuring work there for a living; that sack of gil wouldn't last him forever.Â

Maybe someday he'd be forgotten and return to Ul'Dah. Or just move on to other things. It didn't matter at the moment. One thing was clear; he was done with fighting to do a job he didn't ask for. Done with wrangling grown people like children. Done suffering the consequences of the actions of others. To those who were mistrusting toward him, to those who doubted him, questioned him and challenged him; he'd give them a reason to harp on about being right all along.

In two days, he would rob and leave the Agents, and everyone he had grown to love.

In the end, he loved himself most. A thug and a thief. Perhaps not much had changed, after all.

« Next Oldest \| Next Newest »
Pages (45): « Previous 1 … 16 17 18 19 20 … 45 Next » Jump to page:

Bulletin Board

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