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

Kage · **12-18-2014, 01:25 PM**

As the fat cat futilely chased after the nutkin back to the plot of land that had become their home, their lalafell caretaker followed them... huffing and puffing with some exhaustion. Somehow or another, Kage had gotten a tree for the Starlight. It wasn't topped yet, something he would be rectifying soon enough. He marveled at it, not having personally ever gotten one before. The process as it were... He surveyed his neighbors, trying to see what kinds of treetoppers they had. Not to play the unique card but to aid in the neighborhood's diversity and to share as much as possible.

So he thought.

Kage slipped off the gloves he'd used to spare his hands' flesh of the pines and needles digging into them as he gave a short whistle. He rubbed his palms together, getting the blood pumping and warmth and feeling in them. He smiled softly and gently as the nutkin and cat came to him as he tilted his head beckoning to him as he entered the home.

"Time to get to work."

**Unnamed Mercenary** · **12-20-2014, 05:48 AM**

Franz made his way towards the kitchen, taking care to not make any heavy steps that might alert any others awake at such an early hour. Was perhaps the fourth bell of the morning?

As he stood at the stove, stirring the contents of the small pot, he reflected on what had happened recently. Ciceroix had been in trouble, his sister Miette under some form of control to hunt him down to kill. Reinette and Jancis had been there to make a peaceful resolution, and he, he had been useless in the entire endeavor, it seemed. No better than some training dummy meant for archers to practice hitting their marks. While the others had found a solution to save both brother and sister, he had been ready to kill Miette without hesitation. Even more so after learning that Eddaâ€™s safety could hinge on such circumstances.

Edda. Theyâ€™d met on friendly enough terms. The Roegadyn, Iron Sea, who had begun living in the house he stayed in at the time had been hired to protect her from danger. Through some turn of rather unfortunate timing, sheâ€™d come to learn he was a Garlean, living out his days in Eorzea. From that point, what had been friendliness through formality had become more of a fight to prove he was not the thread to Eorzea she could then only see him as. And then, as quickly as heâ€™d come to know her, she vanished.Â It had been as if a piece of his own life had been sealed away. He thought of the tortured state sheâ€™d been in, likely never having experienced anything even close to the amount of pain she must have endured. And by none other than some Elezen sheâ€™d decided to trust on a whim.

Yet, sheâ€™d been rescued, Miette as well. And that was what had mattered to him at this moment. More importantly, he knew the empty feeling of hunger that would have to set in on her once she was no longer in shock from the events. He gave the porridge a small amount of fresh honey to sweeten it for her palate. Likely, she would leave it untouched, but nonetheless, he prepared a small serving for her: warmed bowl, spoon, and a warm pot of tea.

Franz walked down the hall, stopping in from of Eddaâ€™s room. Also on the tray, a short letter. â€œPlease direct Edda to eat something. Might this help ensure she will not have to suffer from hunger.â€ He knocked on the door just loud enough for the visiting Elezen to hear. He left no further comments. As he walked down the hall, he could hear the click of her door opening as his entered his own room, too tired to even remove any heavy articles of clothing, he nearly fell onto his bed, sollerets and all. He would check up on her one heâ€™d woken up himsef.

Kage · **12-21-2014, 10:15 PM**

Kage hummed to himself as he looked at the very hastilt scrawled list he had made. He'd seen some Starlight wishes and he hoped to continue to help. Kage had never been much of a believer in the Twelve but he had always tried to respect the thought behind everything that happened.

Such as Starlight. Ever since Roen had sent him the gift, he was always on the look out to wear the red and white hat or his new beret. Spreading cheer and trying to fulfill some hopes and dreams of others

He had been able to commission a fine coat and had found no small amount of a adorable creatures. He hoped their new owners would be able to look after them.

((If I have granted a wish don't worry it need not be in your RP))

TheShade · **12-23-2014, 12:09 AM**

Somewhere located within the shroud a cloaked figure brings a linkpearl to his ear and speaks only one word "Report". After a moment of static noise a voice breaks through to respond.

"As you ordered I made no attempt to hide my presence, I am quite sure at least a fair number noted it but it did not attract any potential comrades hiding within midst. Many of the individuals and organizations marked as war potentials were present, thanks to all the festivities of the ball I was able to make observations of them and the standings they have with one another quite easily.That will be sent in separate report . I did however approach one of them and as expected we will be bound to clash with them as with many others I would assume. Something curious to note is I did find one who shared our affinity yet insists to uphold the current ways, I gave him the letter so only time and the course of this world will tell whether he will join us. Unfortunately I was unable to locate any priest's or priestesses for future operations. Of all that I observed it is clear that if we not choose are targets carefully at first we will undoubtedly stir up a very large hornets nest". The voice ends off there awaiting a response

"Resume your current operation then and continue sending reports to our network I will have other agents look into acquiring some holy patrons. From Darkness we came, To Darkness we return". Once finished the cloaked figure destroys the linkpearl and turns around to address the others behind him "The festivities are over we can continue our operation now.

Done speaking multiple figures could be seen moving within the darkness with great haste. Soon enough a dark shadow will encase the shroud and will not disappear until it finds what it wants.

Jancis · **12-23-2014, 12:59 PM**

Pilgrims can be seen entering the towns and cities, wrapped in thick linens and woolen robes, enjoying the festive time of Starlight exchanging presents and pleasantries.

Dried lavender bundles and tied satchels of lavender buds were handed out to kin and strangers alike from the priests in the cities, giving a soft comforting scent despite the cold of the year. Tokens of clay are tied to them, the symbol of Athlyk upon them.

Bells ring and songs are sung. Old and young come together and travel, talking about business from the past year and how time sometimes flies by. As they pass through, more pilgrims join in, travelling together.

Some travel to share their griefs or joys from the year. Some travel to ask for blessings for the coming future.

Some wish to know more of their own future, looking for diviners to give them insight.

Reasons aplenty, they travel on to Quarrymill in the South Shore.

We must use time wisely and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.

Event Details

Steel Wolf · **12-23-2014, 03:42 PM**

Steel stood at the edge of the wooden bridge that headed towards the Maelstrom's headquarters. She hadn't been home in a long while, and felt the sea breeze cut across her newly shortened hair. It felt good to have it off her shoulders. Good to be in armor again. Good to be home.

She was about to celebrate her independence from a ballroom dress by heading to the Hunt Board when a Mail Moogle fluttered up to her, impeding her path in that alarming way the creatures often do.

"Kupo! There's a letter for you Miss Hammasandwich!"

Steel sidefrowned and rolled her eyes at the slaughter of her last name, taking up the offered envelope from the tiny fuzzy paw. The moogle fluttered off, swaying as the weight of his mail pouch was buffeted by the sea wind. She idly tore the side of the envelope off and pulled the simple letter out.

Quote:Steel,

I pray this letter finds you well.

I may have found a match for you in the form of an acquaintance of mine a sea wolf by the name of Tausenadel Geispyrsyn. He's a fine fellow, runs with decent company. He's a busy man with an affinity for a strong drink, sassy women and a good laugh. While love may be something you have to work for, he's good people and may be what you need for right now.

I've made reservations for the two of you at the Bismark for the week's end. All expenses have been covered, please enjoy yourself.

Enclosed are the reservation details.

I pray Menphina shines on your evening.

Grace

Steel's eyes grew wide in a mixture of surprise, shock and...fear? All of a sudden there was a someone who actually wanted to meet her. And at the Bismarck to boot.

Once more, the worry of clothing crept up in to her mind. Now what was she supposed to put on?

Ciel · **12-27-2014, 02:27 PM**

There was joy in the Hall, but Ciel struggled to feel it. After delivering her report to Kin, she shuffled off to her quarters and closed the door, allowing silence to reign even though she didn't hear it. Her mind still swirled with the sights she and the others were confronted with, the cries of the survivors, the taunts of the Reaver Captain and his men. The smell of sickness and death still clung to her attire, something all too familiar from years before. It lacked the same notes of fire and ash, but no matter how many different ways the smell presented itself, it was never any less stomach-turning.

We weren't fast enough for some of them... if only we had gone sooner. As soon as we knew where they were being taken, we could have saved just one life more. Several more. But no, we were biding our time, enjoying ourselves as others suffered. I cannot abide this to happen again. Next time, I will give chase and...

The songstress drew a long breath which gave way to a shuddering sob as her own thoughts confronted her again with more of the same images. Most of the captives had been women, some of them children, and how many of those children had endured the same or been forced to watch as the pirates had their way with their mothers? Their sisters? And the piles of bodies in the Deckhands' Quarters. How many of them had still been abused even after they had gone cold?

Cut any bonds on the captives, and cut the throats of any Reavers we find along the way.

Her own words came back to her. She had ordered the other members of her party to kill their enemies, not just disable them. Surely if the Reavers were all Drowned thralls to Leviathan, death was a kindness, more of one than they deserved under the circumstances. Although she had met plenty of admirable pirates during her many travels, there always existed tales of those who were anything but, and who thrived on greed, lust, and violence, and the Order had met them all in Sastasha. Surely no god, no Primal, would drive men to such ends. No, these things were deeply rooted in their hearts even before they were Drowned. Cut their throats, cut them free of their thrall, and let their souls burn in an unmarked grave for eternity and a day.

Ciel shook her head to momentarily silence the chaos. Her bow, Starcrossed Serenade, was shrugged off of her shoulder and placed on her bed along with her hat. The rest of her attire was peeled away piece by piece and dropped unceremoniously to the floor, only to be shoved into a corner with a now bare foot. All of it would need a soak, but perhaps several days of soaking, soap, and perfume wouldn't be enough to take out that damn smell, and with it, the memory. She would still feel it even if no one else noticed.

Leaning, she turned the handle to start filling the bath. It had to be hot, as hot as her soft skin could bear, enough to wash away the unseen blood which still clung to her and had soaked in deeper than the skin's surface. The incensory on the counter was also set alight. She hadn't changed out the oil drops recently, so it still gave off an aroma of clove and lavender, soothing enough but she felt unsure of just how much it would help to settle her.

Mish is fine, at least. She is a bright, brave, strong girl, with such a future ahead of her. I pray she never has to relive anything like this. And hopefully she doesn't go running off alone again...

She reached over again to cut the flow of water, and fumbled to open a small glass phial of lilac oil. Just a few drops would be enough to fill the room, and mingle the floral scent with the gentle wisps of incense smoke. Capping that, she lowered herself into the bath and sank up to her chin. Ciel would have even closed her eyes if not for the images which still waited behind her eyelids.

Dozens of lives saved, even if some might never be the same again... that must count for something. And we all made it back to the Hall in one piece. Even Captain Arashi was kind enough to lend his ship to transport those who were from Thanalan, and Kale met them in Vesper Bay with some of the other Immortal Flames. If these are all the blessings we can count from this, then that will have to suffice.

Kellach Woods · **12-28-2014, 10:01 PM**

"Do you know how hard you are to track down these days, kupo? You adventurers really should stay in the same place if you're expecting mail!"

"Cut me some slack, Postmoogle, I got fired and lost the only place I actually hung around for more than a few hours."

"It's already a hard enough time just to get this letter! My fluttery composure is strained by sea air, kupo! In any case, here you are and have a wonderful day! It's time for me to relax in a niiiice ba-... Erm, I mean, a Postmoogle's job is never done, kupo!"

Thus, floateth away the Postmoogle, disappearing into the aether or whatever have you. Kellach was thus left with a strange letter from a far less strange sender. His brother sending him another letter after the first one he sent, telling him their father had died warmed his heart. Einrich had never been one for communication with his little brother. Behind his silly mask, Kellach smiled.

"Time to crack this open and see what news came from the homeland." he says to himself. Taking his rightmost gauntlet off, he cuts open the letter using a carefully filed and manicured nail, before putting on the gauntlet once more and reading the letter.

Einrich Woods Wrote:I trust this letter finds you well. As you likely surmised, I did not write to you with the intent on asking about your well-being. You do not live here without learning to fend for yourself and carve a little bit of life for you and as such, I will skip these pleasantries and continue with the facts.

The town council unconditionally surrendered to Garlemald around a moon ago. Obviously, we did not have any power to defend ourselves, but I am not proud of our people with this decision. Ever since you left, I started keeping myself informed of the goings-on in the world, and suffice it to say that I feel this decision will be very detrimental to our well-being, as well as our traditions.

Of course, I'd rather the town and the farms be alive than dead, but with each passing day that I head to the village, I hear of a fellow that was harassed by soldiers passing through for wearing an Offering gown. With what sailors have told me of Garlemald, this is likely to continue, until our very people are empty shells, calling themselves Garleans.

I personally started keeping a hidden journal of our traditions. An expanded Book of Rites, if you will. I'd always considered our service to the elements an ineffective folly, but that folly deserves to be preserved and not stamped out by those who would replace it with worse sophistry. Our folly gives us meaning as a people and has taught us much of altruism and life itself. Theirs is mere servitude for the sake of serving.

Eorzea is the only place that, according to these sailors, has managed to stand up to Garlemald. As such, I would bid you remain on the continent, instead of rushing to our defense in an ineffective attempt at rescuing us when only our way of life is threatened. As I try and compile what little history we have and every aspect of our traditions, you will be the one to carry them into the future once this journal is complete. I know you have had an interest in our traditions, Brother, or you would never have came back for your Book of Rites.

Meanwhile, I will do my best to keep our traditions alive - I have petitioned the elder to allow me on the town council as the head of the household. Garlemald regards our traditions as the signs of a people weak of mind. Perhaps negotiating with someone who thought the same may allow me some time to compile everything, and perhaps even let us keep a few of them.

As you have likely surmised, any Eorzean trade ship is to be shot on sight as soon as it appears within view, and they have stationed a few ships here to do exactly that. If you know any traders that are planning to use the route you took to get here to pay respects to Father, then advise them of the situation.

Brother, nay, Kellach - I know someday you will grow into the hero you always wanted to be. I remember when the minstrels told you of adventurers, how your eyes glowed of a golden light even bolder than my own. I hope that when we meet again, you will be able to regale me of your adventures.

May Wind kiss your face and Earth bless your steps,
your brother Einrich

P.S. : Knowing you, you must be wearing something ridiculous right now. Please stop.

Kellach looked more defeated by this news than being fired. The home that he left, taken over by Garlemald? There was always that possibility, and he wondered why that hadn't been done. Why now, to boot. Still, many questions without answers. He sighed, and rummaged through his belongings to compose an answer. Fortunately, the Postmoogle could easily be found in one of the cities, but he had to be brief. Likely they would not deliver it straight to Einrich, as they did to him, since he was not on Eorzea.

He walked towards a nearby outpost and began to write a very short reply.

Kellach Wood Wrote:Garlemald? They are very much bad news, Brother. They have no pity, and take no quarters against any who would stand against them. I am relieved that you do not plan on firmly opposing them, but do be careful. I hear they regard any disobedience as outright treason!

In so far as your journal is concerned, as soon as you have it made, I will ensure that it is kept safe and if you wish it so, its contents distributed among the populace here. I doubt many would care, but the more information is distributed, the less it has a chance to die out.

Myself, I have some bad personal news, but those are inconsequential compared to yours so I will not relate them here. Still, I am glad that you are doing something for our people. I, however, am afraid I must disappoint you. I will not grow into the hero you believe I can be. Perhaps in those days, I wanted to be a hero, and I can't say I don't want to be one still - However, I will never be a hero. I am far too much of a disappointment to lay claim to that title.

Until next time, Brother, where I hope I will not have disappointed you.
- your Brother, Kellach

P.S. Hush, Brother. This outfit is amazing.

He quietly chucked to himself thinking that he was the only one who liked it. He cared not. He liked it, and that was that. Still, he would have to hand this to the Postmoogle next time he was in town, and hope that it can make its way to his brother.

Ha'uruh Nunh · **12-29-2014, 06:42 AM**

He laid on his back, listening to the soft breathing of the others in the converted inn room that had become "home" over the last year.Â Warm, bare skin pressed up against his side.

Judgment - not a good card, but not a bad one, maybe.Â It suggested trials to come, more tests.Â Warren had joked that the card was late, that it represented everything that had already happened, not what was to come.Â Howl hadn't wanted to even ask a question, had just wanted the fortune-teller to tell him whatever the Keeper moved her to say.Â It wasn't so much that he'd wanted to know what the future held, but that he just wanted an omen for what to expect, what to brace himself towards, what to prepare for.

He rolled over onto his side, touching his forehead against that warm skin.Â He was wasting the night with worrying when he should be sleeping.Â It didn't really matter what judgment was coming his way in the new year.Â He had this now, and it was home.

Dogberry · **12-29-2014, 12:19 PM**

It never failed that after a major Aether expenditure, Iskierka would feel weak and tired. She had never before spoken in tongues, though. The testimony of her companions last night played back in her head. Slurring her words. Speaking another language?

Iskierka's mask was off, and even though nobody was around she was trying not to be seen. She wasn't sure why. Most of the people here didn't seem all that put off by her face when they had seen it. Her face no longer felt like her own anymore. Of course it wasn't. It belonged to the one who marred it. The mask was her face now. Without her mask she felt invisible, or she wanted to be anyway. She ate quickly, hunched over her food like an animal and hoping nobody would walk up on her. With the food done, she put the dishes aside.

Iskierka took her cards from last night and shuffled them. She placed three cards down from left to right. The Self, The Obstacle, The Resolution. The turned over the first. The Magician. The second, The Devil. The third, The Devil.

Iskierka paused. She picked up the two identical cards and inspected them. They seemed real enough. The counted the cards, and all were there. She shuffled the cards back in, and inspected each one. There was only one Devil card in the deck.

She hurriedly put her cards away, and then gathered her dishes to wash them. She set to the task as fast as possible and made her way quickly to the Arcanist guild. On the way, something overcame her. A phrase came into her head in a language she didn't know, but she knew the meaning.

Malpirg de izizop.

Burn the vessel.

McBeefâ„¢ · **12-29-2014, 03:24 PM**

((Cross Posting this in Verad's thread as well))

Orrin Halgren feels the end of the weathered spear ring out against her shield, and he uses the contact to push away, hopping backwards lightly. Lowering his practice weapon, he looks to her with a nod "Good." The Dragoon gives a rare smile and nods, "Keep in mind how you moved, for that is the whole of the exercise." He looks into her eyes "What stands before you Ms. Primrose are your desires and impulses made flesh; whereas your weapon and shield are discretion and will power. See how your urges seek to abuse every weak point. Weak Points that you created, due to the ways you deflect impulses and desires. Take note that I am lightly clothed with a lighter weapon, and you are encumbered. You shall surely tire before I do." Looking her over, "This is meditation, meditation on your defenses. The more gracefully you put aside your urges, the longer it will take for you to tire. "

Evangeline smiles, "Dangerous words, I think from a dragoon." She tilts her head, "So I should not fight my desires head on? But perhaps circumvent them, or even use them to my advantage?"

Orrin shakes his head, "We deal with our urges in different ways, You have chosen to fight these in a particular way, only repetition will tell how long you can continue." he says readying his spear, before repeating the same attack pattern he had used countless times this night.

Evangeline nods, stopping the first two strikes as before, tilting her shield and stepping forward, but for the last, she steps forward again, and using the weight of both her and her armor she pushes into him, knocking the man off balance.

Her trainer is pushed back and he stumbles somewhat "I am not teaching you combat, I am teaching you meditation through it. Block the same way each time, if you think of how to counter, your mind will not be focused.. You must accept your weaknesses and fight through them. That is introspection, change will comes afterwards.

Evangeline pauses, looking as if she wishes to argue, but finally relents, "Very well.... though I'm not very good at staying still." She returns to her ready position.
.
Orrin nods "That is why you are training, isnâ€™t it?" readying the lance, "Again" he barks in a drill master's tone, attacking the same way, fluidly, quickly, never speeding up or slowing down from his original assault. Were she to deflect it he'd bark for another set, then another and another till they had completed another thirty, or Evangeline fails to deflect one, either due to exhaustion or boredom.

She continues, though her mind seems to tire long before her body does. The defensive pattern was efficient on her body, but torturous on her mind, and it wanders, thinking of other topics, until at last, she forgets to step forward, and the staff hits her with it's full leverage and power, sending her stumbling sideways into the ground. "Sorry... I got distracted."

He lowers his spear and nods, "Your movements were fine, I had yet to see your body tire." walking over and offering a hand "Get up, we go again."

Evangeline takes the hand and pulls herself up with a grumble, "I thought this was going to be more excitingâ€¦ doing the same thing over and over feels like a waste of time.â€

Orrin lets go of her "This is what your mind faces, each and every moment, Ms Primrose. It knocks on the door relentlessly, seeking entry. If the door is locked it seeks an open window, a vent, a hatch, a crawlway. It will never cease. Someday you may train your mind, making it fluid enough to deflect it, but now, it must be sturdy enough to stop the first knock.â€

"I tried to be fluid... to deal with it more efficiently each time, but you wouldn't allow me!" She sighs, "It's like the dragons. Think of the first one who thought to use their power against them! Mindless repetition will get us nowhere! you should know that as well as I."

The Dragoon shakes his head "No, you are losing focus, this is about the sanctity and sureness of your thoughts. We practice the movements until we transcend thought and simply -act-. Only then shall you achieve clarity of thought unclouded by influence. Trust in me, Miss Primrose, you seeked my training, please accept it."

She shakes her head, "First answer me this." She steps forward, "The Holy See and the holy writings declare the dragons profane. They always have." She steps forward and pokes a hand into his chest, "But someone broke them. The original Dragoons accepted the dragons taint in exchange for their power. That is not... mindless sanctity."

He meets her eyes steadily, "You seek not the power of the Dragoon, only its discipline, the mind of a knight. This is how it is obtained, how one can accept a dragon's power into one'self and not let it bend you to its will. Or another other power, for that matter. " He continues, not unkindly. "I told you this will not be easy, but if you wish to prevent your mind from being swayed so easily, then you must follow my path"

Evangeline tenses as if she wants to argue more, then finally deflates, "Fine. There is something I haven't told you, the reason I asked for this training."

Orrin readies his weapon at first and then looks to her "Speak."

"I spoke of a drake, in thanalan, one slain by my companions and I."

He nods, â€œYes, I was surprised at the tale.â€

She continues nervously, "It... dropped a stone, which I picked up." Shaking her head, "It... called to me, filled my head with visions, urgesâ€¦ Before I knew what I was doing, I had convinced two more to touch it, to feel its influence."
Orrinâ€™s face betrays no emotion, â€œThis stone..where is it?â€

Evangeline studies him as she speaks gauging his reaction, "I only know vaguely... those with more sense than I took it from me, I still... wish to see it from time to time. I believe it to be in Master Verad's house, if you know the name."

He shakes his head "I do not. But what you speak of is true..." he readies his spear "Again." he says, barking the command..

She raises her weapons, "I... did wish to repeat the experience."

Orrinâ€™s voice softens for a moment, â€œThen you need this more than you know." Then he strikes, the exact same way, untiringly, contiuing relentlessly until she falters once more.

Evangeline forces down her nervousness and takes his attacks, forcing herself to concentrate. Her arms and legs begin to tire, but her unease gives her strength as she loses herself in the rhythm.

Coatleque · **12-29-2014, 04:34 PM**

((Note, this occurs the night of Starlight itself.))

The sound of drunken laughter echoed through the halls of the estate's top floor. No door was able to stop the loud bellowing as the man proceeded back towards the main hall where the party was being held. Within a large office, however, a certain fiery haired woman sat behind a large oaken desk. She exhaled slowly through her mouth as the noise died down and quietly raised the parchment she had snatched a moment before back to the surface.

She perused the document once more to be sure there were no mistakes. Her mouth moved silently as she read it over, then quickly made out the amount of one hundred-thousand gil to be paid to the orphanage from the estate of Jameson Taeros.

The crack of a dying fire in the hearth opposite her caused a panicked jump once more. Staring at the door for another moment she could hear no one from the hall, so she returned the quill to the inkwell. Taking the key she managed to swipe earlier while he was distracted by preparations, she unlocked the drawer to her right with a soft *click*, and opened it to reveal an assortment of business-related items. The most important of which was an engraved seal of gold with a mahogany handle.

Taking the wax she had prepared, she pooled a small amount at the bottom of the document then quickly smushed the seal into it before returning it to the drawer, closing and locking it once more.

The sound of footsteps outside had her quickly roll up the document as she sprang from the desk and around the corner to a small dressing area. She sat in front of a vanity and quickly hid the document under the rest of her things before taking up a hair brush and trying her best to look busy. She only hoped he would not notice her shortness of breath.

Jameson came around the corner half a moment later and smiled at her. "Still getting ready? Come now, you must greet Lord Mandercrown before he decides to... lose his pants again." He moved in quickly and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck as her head turned away instinctively. "You look stunning tonight."

"Mmm... must I? Please tell me he is not inebriated already? I pity that maidservant of his."

He stood upright again and offered his arm to which she also rose and took with hers.

"I do apologize, but it is business after all. Fear not, there will be plenty of... distraction once my guests have left."

"You are positively incorrigible!", she replied as he led her off to the party. She looked back briefly as the door closed. Plenty of time to come up with an excuse, or some kind of cover should he even notice the paltry sum missing. For all her risk, Coatleque hoped she could at least give a few children a happy Starlight this year.

Coatleque · **01-01-2015, 08:57 PM**

Continued from here (which follows the post above this one)

Coatleque turned the key slowly with bated breath. *click* The door to Jameson's office was now unlocked. Slowly she opened it trying not to make a sound. The creaking of the hinges were like nails on a chalk slate to someone trying to be stealthy. He was not in, of course, being out on some business or other. With just enough light from the windows and hall she tiptoed to the desk.

To her it was a full four months years of wages. Nearly all she was able to save. Not that she had want of money - most of her expenses were work related anyway and would be passed on to the Palace - but this would hurt personally. She left the bag on his desk. One hundred-thousand gil, the full amount missing from his own account. With it, she left a note in her own writing so there would be no mistake. They had to meet as soon as he was back so she could explain.

Letting herself out just as quickly and locking the door, she breathed a sigh of relief - though not for herself. She would not let Mister North take the fall for her own actions.

Ha'uruh Nunh · **01-04-2015, 10:51 PM**

He could see a few faint stars out on the distant horizon from where he sat at the small, cramped writing desk; the thing had seen better days, battered from ill-use by students and drunkards for summers on end, and it wobbled a bit when Howl tried to write, but it was enough for this.Â He'd spent all afternoon in travel on the airship, and his back ached, his shoulders ached; but no matter how exhaustion gnawed at the backs of his eyes, he couldn't sleep until he had written this letter: a letter for Warren on his wedding day.

Howl had given him his wedding present already:Â Howl's own absence from the festivities.

Slowly, he dipped his pen in the inkwell, and began to write; he self-imposed a restriction not to scratch anything out.

Morning Warren,

If all's well, this'll get to you a good few bells before you need to head out to the Sanctum of the Twelve for your bonding.Â I doubt I'm the first to congratulate you, but I wanted to make sure you had something from me today.Â First off, many congratulations to you and to Snow.Â I wish you years upon years of happiness together, though you don't need my wishes to make that true.

Remember when we first met?Â Today ain't about me, of course, but she was there with us that day in a way.Â You were crying, and I ain't seen you cry but once or twice since, even with all the shit we've been through.Â I knew you had to be crying over a woman.Â It's always over someone we love, when we cry like that.Â A man's got a pain tolerance, you know.Â When I saw her for the first time, I thought, "Hey, she's pretty.Â I can see why he's crazy about her."Â Then as stuff happened, events kinda got away from both of us, and sometimes it felt like the whole world revolved around someone who wasn't there.

I ain't writing any of this to make you feel guilty, you know.Â That ain't what this is about.Â It's to say that even then, she was there with us, and I got to know her through you.

She's a pretty scary girl, your bride, but when I chased her to Coerthas, I was willing to die for her if need me.Â I always called her "your girl," which pissed you off something good, but you told me you'd be in the hells forever without her.Â And I promised I'd bring you out somehow.Â Ha, we were pretty big dumbasses at the time, weren't we?Â I learned you can't sacrifice yourself to try and bring someone you care about happiness.Â And I think you've learned that there's many ways out of the hells.Â But for you, yeah, I think she was always a part of not being in them.Â A future without her, for you, was the hells.

That's why today was kind of meant to be, you know?Â The more I got to know both of you, the more I saw that even when you were apart, even when you were as far apart as people could be and still be in Eorzea together, you were bound together by more than just past times.Â I always had a feeling fate or whatever would bring you back together.

I guess this was all a really roundabout way of saying:Â I'm so damn happy for you, Warren.Â Today is special.Â Enjoy it.Â Savor each and every moment.Â We did it.Â We made it out together.

Yours affectionately,
Howl

He paused, staring down at the letter, then added a quick postscript:

PS:

Used to, I thought on this day, I'd move out and my wedding present to you would be to kick out the freeloading Seeker who's squatted on your property the past year or so hence, but sorry, you're going to have to deal with me crashing the newlywad pad!Â Someone's gotta keep that place stocked in booze, because the gods know she drinks near as much as you do.

He dashed sand quickly over the ink, sealed it, and hurried outside to drop it in the postbox before he could think too hard on a single word.Â The south tugged at him, murmuring that his loved ones were there, but he tried to block out that faint urging.Â It was time to be alone for a while.Â Warren deserved it.

Berrod Armstrong · **01-07-2015, 02:32 PM**

The midlander woman toppled, crumpling into a messy heap on the floor. Her dark hair, previously tied into a tight bun, spilled from its bindings and spewed in all directions. It covered her shoulders, head, and the hard mats on the floor in ebon strands. Her lip was bleeding, and both arms ripe with purple bruises. Her jaw had a bright red spot on it, and the vest she wore had nigh been ripped from her body. Â The long trousers on her legs hid most of the damage there. After a groan of pain, she managed to slap a palm down onto the floor in a bid to force herself up. "You're trying to kill me, you bastard."

Berrod Armstrong coiled back into his stance, having just endured the follow-through of a devastating high kick to the side of the woman's head. He wore the same manner of simple vest as she -- though fitted for a Midlander, so it wore quite tighter on his own broad frame. His trousers were loose in fashion, almost identical to hers save for the size. He had broken a sweat, but seemed to remain Â frigid and calm through it all. "Yes, I am. The people you will be fighting won't be looking to spar with you. They'll be looking to kill you. I can't prepare you for what's going to happen by teaching you a lie. Now up, I'm coming at you again."

She barely had time to straighten up before his leg arced again, catching her gut with the instep. With a horrid, muffled cry she doubled over, and went right back to the crumple on the floor. As a cruel, final measure, he retracted the leg and snapped it again for a blunt, blasting kick to her ribs. The loud sob that escaped her did nothing to pry from him any mercy. Shamelessly he stood over her and grabbed at the length of her hair. With a solid, wrenching yank he pulled the poor woman up to eye level, his face stony to the tears that had begun to flow from her eyes. Finally, she managed one word.

"...stop."

He stopped.

Berrod released her hair and caught her into his arms, the impassive mask replaced with a dire frown of concern. "You're so damned stupid," He chided, "Not everything in this world is solved with intent and determination. You need to learn how to deal with the real threats that will come your way. You need to protect yourself." Like a father setting his child to stand, the Highlander grasped the midlander woman by her shoulders and planted her to her feet. "I stopped at your command, Ginny. But they won't. They're not just one man, they're several. And they will show you less mercy than I did."

"You didn't show me any mercy at all!"

Berrod's gaze was grim. "Exactly."

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