(((OOC notes: While I will be leaving this as an open posting, I acknowledge that the scope of people actually interested will be rather limited. The intent behind it is to explain Tyriont's absence while I'm travelling for the next few weeks, as well as give the introduction for another character I'll be using that ties in to his story - and will tie in with the Spectral Wardens as a whole. However, since Ty has established several contacts outside of the Wardens, I decided to post it here instead of on our own boards to allow anyone interested the chance to be the one who...well, you'll see 
Long and boring preamble over, on we go. The following events take place after the events on the evening of 10/3 - the encounter between Crimson Blades and the Spectral Wardens, and Ty's, uh...encounters on the pier in LL))
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Tyriont stumbled drunkenly along the docks, desperately trying to remember where the Flame was moored. Despite the sea water still dripping down his hair and stinging his eyes, he was still extremely inebriated. He'd played it off, but was amazed that the Roegadyn fellow who had tried the rum had suggested he make it stronger next time...he swore that if it were any more potent it would eat through the bottle. To make matters worse, any time he tried to distract himself from the pounding in his head by retreating into his own thoughts, he kept dwelling on the gnawing guilt in his belly at Oria's reaction when he had touched her face. Gods, he thought, he'd seen that look of fear countless times before in the faces of the deckhands on the ships his crew had raided over the years but had never wanted to see it on the face of someone he cared for.
His legs gave out from beneath him, sending him falling onto the stone walkway. Hauling himself into a sitting position, he rested his back against the nearest wall and rummaged through his bag. Pulling out his last unopened bottle of ale, he uncorked it and drained the contents. Might help him feel less guilty, he decided without really believing his own reasoning. He sat there unmoving for some time, fighting the urge to close his eyes and just sleep. Wouldn't be a smart idea, not with the 'cudas roaming about. Eventually he hauled himself to his feet once again and resumed his drunken search for his home vessel. The sooner he could make his way back to the Flame, the sooner he could rest. Then in the morning he could figure out how to make amends...and start on not drinking for a few days. Rounding the corner, he nodded with self-satisfaction as familiar looking sails came into view at a not too distant dock. As he took a step towards them, he felt a sudden pain in the back of his head and everything went dark.
The muscular looking Hyur standing behind Tyriont twirled the billy-club in his hands before returning it to his belt loop. Moving over to the unconscious Elezen, he rolled Tyriont over with his foot and kicked his side a few times to ensure he was out cold. Satisfied, he muttered into a linkpearl and waited. A moment later, a tall man emerged from a nearby walkway clad in a concealing dark cowl. He crouched next to Tyriont and pulled the hood back to reveal his features. A Duskwight Elezen with flame-red hair pulled back tightly, he was lean almost to the point of looking unhealthy. A tattoo marked his face, shifting slightly as his lips moved into a cruel looking smile. Reaching into his clothing, he produced a vial containing a viscous green goo and pried open Tyriont's mouth, allowing a little of the substance to drip down his throat. Replacing the vial's cork and returning it to his robe, he pulled open Tyriont's belt pouches and began to rifle through them.
"It has been quite some time, Tyriont. Four years, I believe. Drunk to the point of being out of your mind and reeking of salt water...I see little has changed about you." The man stopped his search for a moment to move aside Tyriont's hair, examining the scar on his left cheek. "I see you still bear the mark from our last encounter. Wonderful. That shall make this task all the simpler. Perhaps this time we shall give it a twin." He returned to his search, eventually locating what he was hunting for. He retrieved both a strange looking linkpearl and a card bearing Tyriont's likeness. "Interesting...yes, this shall prove quite useful." The man removed Tyriont's hat and carefully placed the card inside the band, setting it down in the middle of the walkway next to where some blood had clearly fallen from the earlier blow. The Hyur finally spoke up.
"Oi, what you doin' that for, M? 'Cudas 'r gonna fig're it out 'fore too long if y'leave it there. Them, or summat worse". The thin Elezen stood and turned to his companion.
"That would be the point, boy. That is why I instructed you to strike close to his own vessel. It is likely that whomever happens to stumble across the item will recognize the dead Captain. It is in my interests that he is eventually retrieved." He sighed, irritated. "But these are plans of which you neither need to know, nor would be able to comprehend regardless. Gather him up and follow me. Your payment shall follow once we reach my destination." The Hyur shrugged and slung Tyriont over his shoulder. He wasn't going to question, he'd worked for the man before and the pay was always prompt. You don't risk making a guy like that mad, might stop paying you. Once Tyriont was secured they slipped away into the night, leaving only the hat and card in the walkway next to the flecks of blood.
Long and boring preamble over, on we go. The following events take place after the events on the evening of 10/3 - the encounter between Crimson Blades and the Spectral Wardens, and Ty's, uh...encounters on the pier in LL))===========================================================================================
Tyriont stumbled drunkenly along the docks, desperately trying to remember where the Flame was moored. Despite the sea water still dripping down his hair and stinging his eyes, he was still extremely inebriated. He'd played it off, but was amazed that the Roegadyn fellow who had tried the rum had suggested he make it stronger next time...he swore that if it were any more potent it would eat through the bottle. To make matters worse, any time he tried to distract himself from the pounding in his head by retreating into his own thoughts, he kept dwelling on the gnawing guilt in his belly at Oria's reaction when he had touched her face. Gods, he thought, he'd seen that look of fear countless times before in the faces of the deckhands on the ships his crew had raided over the years but had never wanted to see it on the face of someone he cared for.
His legs gave out from beneath him, sending him falling onto the stone walkway. Hauling himself into a sitting position, he rested his back against the nearest wall and rummaged through his bag. Pulling out his last unopened bottle of ale, he uncorked it and drained the contents. Might help him feel less guilty, he decided without really believing his own reasoning. He sat there unmoving for some time, fighting the urge to close his eyes and just sleep. Wouldn't be a smart idea, not with the 'cudas roaming about. Eventually he hauled himself to his feet once again and resumed his drunken search for his home vessel. The sooner he could make his way back to the Flame, the sooner he could rest. Then in the morning he could figure out how to make amends...and start on not drinking for a few days. Rounding the corner, he nodded with self-satisfaction as familiar looking sails came into view at a not too distant dock. As he took a step towards them, he felt a sudden pain in the back of his head and everything went dark.
The muscular looking Hyur standing behind Tyriont twirled the billy-club in his hands before returning it to his belt loop. Moving over to the unconscious Elezen, he rolled Tyriont over with his foot and kicked his side a few times to ensure he was out cold. Satisfied, he muttered into a linkpearl and waited. A moment later, a tall man emerged from a nearby walkway clad in a concealing dark cowl. He crouched next to Tyriont and pulled the hood back to reveal his features. A Duskwight Elezen with flame-red hair pulled back tightly, he was lean almost to the point of looking unhealthy. A tattoo marked his face, shifting slightly as his lips moved into a cruel looking smile. Reaching into his clothing, he produced a vial containing a viscous green goo and pried open Tyriont's mouth, allowing a little of the substance to drip down his throat. Replacing the vial's cork and returning it to his robe, he pulled open Tyriont's belt pouches and began to rifle through them.
"It has been quite some time, Tyriont. Four years, I believe. Drunk to the point of being out of your mind and reeking of salt water...I see little has changed about you." The man stopped his search for a moment to move aside Tyriont's hair, examining the scar on his left cheek. "I see you still bear the mark from our last encounter. Wonderful. That shall make this task all the simpler. Perhaps this time we shall give it a twin." He returned to his search, eventually locating what he was hunting for. He retrieved both a strange looking linkpearl and a card bearing Tyriont's likeness. "Interesting...yes, this shall prove quite useful." The man removed Tyriont's hat and carefully placed the card inside the band, setting it down in the middle of the walkway next to where some blood had clearly fallen from the earlier blow. The Hyur finally spoke up.
"Oi, what you doin' that for, M? 'Cudas 'r gonna fig're it out 'fore too long if y'leave it there. Them, or summat worse". The thin Elezen stood and turned to his companion.
"That would be the point, boy. That is why I instructed you to strike close to his own vessel. It is likely that whomever happens to stumble across the item will recognize the dead Captain. It is in my interests that he is eventually retrieved." He sighed, irritated. "But these are plans of which you neither need to know, nor would be able to comprehend regardless. Gather him up and follow me. Your payment shall follow once we reach my destination." The Hyur shrugged and slung Tyriont over his shoulder. He wasn't going to question, he'd worked for the man before and the pay was always prompt. You don't risk making a guy like that mad, might stop paying you. Once Tyriont was secured they slipped away into the night, leaving only the hat and card in the walkway next to the flecks of blood.
![[Image: TyFFXIVSig.jpg]](http://i968.photobucket.com/albums/ae167/Tyriont/TyFFXIVSig.jpg)
))