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

Cliodhna Eoghan · **06-15-2015, 12:42 AM**

just a small story for aftermath of jancis' event today. ]]

Stepping from the adjoining washroom with her hair bundled in a towel and clothed in one of Erik's shirts, Cliodhna sat on the couch with a glass of wine. It was a long day but a fun one, she did love helping Jancis or at least going to watch the performances. It was also a fun extra to help out now and again.

Snuggling further into the couch in their bedroom; she looked at the two disks she had taken with her. Bundled with her things in the changing room; they had thankfully stayed dry at the spring after a group of them decided to stay and soak for a bit. Picking on up, she turned it over in her hand, nail lightly tracing the words carved onto it. "What do you want your life to look like in five years?" The tiny script read.

It was a good question to be sure. So long she's spent life on a day to day standard never planning further than a month in advance. But now, things were different - had been different - for awhile now. Cliodhna was gaining a family in both the literal and metaphoric sense. Quite the change from what she had envisioned this point of her life would be five years prior.

Replacing it on the coffee table, she picked up the other one. "What impact do you want to leave in the world?" Though it wasn't intentional; this one would definitely strike a cord with Erik. His thoughts were so focused but on so many things lately. It was a wonder he was able to keep his composure.

Placing the small piece of carved wood with the other, Cliodhna stared at the fire; the twisting and dancing flames making her eyes go heavy. Thankfully she had enough sense to place the wineglass down before falling into a light sleep.

Nearly a bell passed before the door to their bedroom slowly opened. A small face with pixie features peeking into the darkened room. Seeing Cliodhna asleep on the couch; the silence was broken by the soft sound of footfalls as the young girl slowly snuck into the room. Slowly she closed the door behind her; wincing at the click the latch made before creeping to the bed and taking the pillow belonging to Erik. Clutching it in her small arms, Lenna then climbed onto the couch and curled up as close as she could next to Cliodhna before falling asleep herself.

Asmodean · **06-15-2015, 03:24 AM**

Sitting in his darken room at the Mizzenmant Inn, Asmodean thought back both on the evening he had as well as yesterday. His gear, save for his pant, and weapon rest on the chairs close to the door. He's chest was bound in fresh bandages, covering an injure from the aid he give in Coerthas. He had tried to lay for a few bells now, but nothing could make him sleep in spite of how much he wanted to finally rest.Â

Part of him, the loner, cursed him for having following up on his promise to speak at the Celebration of the Wanderer. That time could been spent resting or traveling the land looking for his next job. More so this half of him cursed more at the gathering at Bronze Lake afterwords.

He still didn't know why accepted Jancis' offer to join her with a number of other of the performers for a night of drinking and enjoyment, but he was glad, happy even.Â While he didn't remove the bulk of his armor, he still felt like he was part of the group. No judging, no questioning, just a group of friends being welcoming to him. Asmodean for once sense the Calamity felt wanted, not as a faceless body to work, but a friend.

HIs mind then drifted to the fight in Coerthas and the group he was fight along with. A pair of Dragoons, Orrin Halgren and Noel Vautie, and a highly skilled healer, Myath Sochen along with him and his always trusty ax. They wore cover the area of Monument Tower and they had taken care of the area well, however due to the skill of the Dragoons, he had a hard time earning his keep. After a time, they along with everyone who had answered the call for aid, wore sent to Steel Vigil to fell a elder dragon. They did just that before falling back to the Observatorium. Asmodean had been left alone with Myath for a time, which the pair chatted for a while.

The last leg of traveling in Coerthas had been walking from the Observatorium to the Gates of Judgement then WhitebrimÂ Front before taking the Daniffen Pass once more to the tower. The travel to the gates had been quite and easy and it wasn't until they came to the pass a problem happened. They had came across a massive blast in the pass, and it had wounded a number adventurers who not ready for such a beast to be in the pass. While his group avoid and major damage from the beast the came could not be said for when Steropes appear.

The Cyclops fell a great number of adventurers with easy before Asmodean and his group even had a chance to join the fray. Once they had, along with a number of other Dragoons and other fighters traveling the land, Steropes was brought under control. However, the midlander suffered his chest wound as the cyclops hammered at the warrior, cause the heavy chest-plate he wore to cave in on him. The beast was fell shortly after, but the damage had been done already. Myath, lucky for Asmodean, has a large chococo which could easily carry the pair. Thankfully the rest of the trip was uneventful.

Asmodean wake up from his trance, his gaze looking a the broken and caved in plate at the side of the room. The pain was still there... but even before the warmwine, it had dull greatly from when he first gained the wound. But even know... he sat there awake for bells, he could still not sleep.

It's going to be a fun few days. Asmodean thought to himself annoyed. Right bloody fun.

((Aftermath from the back to back events Coerthas Defense and Celebration of the Wanderer.))

cuideag · **06-19-2015, 05:08 PM**

It took Delial far less than the bell she budgeted for her to gather and pack her things. On one hand, it was a relief: the fewer things she had to carry on her way the better, especially with her leg still aching from her last encounter with Stormchild. On the other, it gave her a feeling she could have called longing had she been feeling sentimental. In a way, she had been.

She turned in her key and departed from the Wench without a look back. Limsa Lominsa had served as the closest thing she had to a home in years, and even then she spent more time away from it than not. It was just the other night that she was able to return thanks to Melkire and his company. A call for some time on the beach was something she could not refuse even with the search for answers weighing heavy on her shoulder.

The ferry would not set to depart for another two bells at least and so Delial found herself lacking distraction. There were no more letters to write: Saxon had been attended to, Gharen would not respond, Roen could not be reached, and anyone else of immediate importance already knew of her plans.

Such an odd moon it had been. Such an odd year. Those Grimsong would have once considered enemies now ranked amongâ€¦ Friends? Could she call them friends? A few of them, mayhap: she and the Sergeant were on fair terms, and Wolfsong had surprised many by standing by her side those few times. Whatever hostility she felt towards Crofte and Kiryuu, even, had been tempered away. They had their use, she told herself, but a part of her she ignored suggested that empathy may have had something to do with it, too.

When she actually looked up and drew her consciousness out from automatic, Delial found herself stepping out of the market strip and onto the walkway over the baked wooden planks near the Fishermanâ€™s Guild. The last time she had gone there to think, she had been interrupted by the titter of lovers (probably) thinking themselves invisible from the happenings in the city. It was quiet then, so quiet that Delial nearly startled herself with her own sigh. How loud it seemed when the tide was low and quiet, and when Limsa Lominsa was still a long way to waking.

In the past moon she had seen herself hunting Lambs and felling Voidsent alongside strangers and clearing out scalekin infestations alongside men and women she had opposed long ago. What Melkire suggested was a long shot she was sure, but she would reach no resolution in the south. Nor would she find peace in knowing Wolfsong had vanished, not when she also knew that Banurein was also on the move.

No rest for the wicked, she mused darkly. And no peace for the clever.

Not that voluntarily relocating herself to Coerthas was something that seemed very clever at all. The last time she had been called there, it was to discover Itarlihtâ€™s treachery; the time before, she was meant to die. The very thought of it made her uneasy but she steeled herself, dug her heels in the stone that was her resolution. She had not gotten to where she was in life by cowing away from lifeâ€™s challenges, and she would go no further by settling for complacency.

There was nowhere to go but north.

**Unnamed Mercenary** · **06-23-2015, 07:30 PM**

There were screams coming from the forest. Pained. Panicked. Not of man or beast. Even though theyâ€™d been sent to bed after supper, Ester was unable to sleep like her brother. He never heard them. Even her parents never heard them. The other conjurerâ€™s all said she was special. A â€˜Hearerâ€™, they said. Being one let her hear nature and the Elementals better. And she hated it.

Yes, being a hearer had its benefits. She was able to progress in her training as a skilled conjurer much faster than her brother had. But it came at a cost. Day after day, she heard the pleading whispers of the forest. Knew the feelings of the spirits that lived around her. And on this night, she heard screams. Something had upset one of the Elementals to an unbearable state.Something needed to be done, and she could stand the screams no longer.

Donning a dark blue robe and clutching her staff, Ester snuck out from her home as quietly as she could, running in the direction of the noise. She could sense the Elemental. It was upset that something had covered its tree in blood, likely some hurt animal of the forest. But sheâ€™d never heard such sounds of distress before. No, this was different. She wasnâ€™t skilled enough to better understand the wants and desires of the Elementals. Her abilities only gave enough understanding to feel an impression of the emotions. As she passed through the forest, the screams became louder, as if the Elemental were under attack from some unknown enemy. Ester ran faster. She weaved through the vines and trees in her path, rushing as quickly as she could so that she might help calm the Elemental down. As she turned slightly to head closer, there was a sudden silence.

The screams had stopped, the air completely still. It was an odd quietness. Something still seemed amiss. If another Hearer had provided comfort, the feeling would have slowly subsided. Instead, she was left with a still air, much like when one holds their breath. She walked slowly up to the tree sheâ€™d sensed the Elemental had inhabited. There was a small clearing with a cottage on the other side. She assumed someone must have lived in the area. Walking around the large trunk of the tree, she saw it. Or, what remained of the Elemental, but soon there was nothing left. She stared in fright at the bloodied creature responsible. Its three eyes looking right at her. She couldnâ€™t make out any of the other features, assuming it to be voidsent. Ester could only remember falling as it approached her, consciousness fading.

She would later tell the story of the horrifying creature to all in her conjury classes.

cuideag · **06-26-2015, 07:28 PM**

They left the ruins in ruin with not a soul to attend to what remained. Axe and fist and spell tore at the evil things that had risen bidden but unbidden, curiosities summoned by hubris and made monstrous by blood. Ten children laid slaughtered on their side alone: ten bodies, Steel Wolf swore, that would be given rest somehow.

They departed the place unsettled and beaten. They were too late to save anyone. Zarek, the young man with sharp eyes and an eager grin, walked away with his fists clenched. Mistalv was as stoic as one might expect a Fist to be: a stone standing solid in a current of tragedy. Vengeance would come to them sure and swift, even if it would have to be saved for another day.

And then there was Delial.

They did not move without reason and did not risk exposure when it could be helped. Windsoul had found them somehow but he did not know what it was he had interrupted. Even when he fled the first den, leaving the writhing, howling, hungry mass behind him, he did not understand. But how many, Delial wondered, knew their work? How many could have felt the weight of the amulets he had pilfered and known that they were heavy beyond what could be held? They stunk of poisoned aether, and their very presence made her itch just beneath her skin. They were familiar to her and they did not ask how.

While they returned to their lives disquieted and forlorn, Delial waited. Three suns and four nights passed without so much as a peiste drifting by, but on the fourth sun her patience was rewarded. A figure came, alone at first but soon to be joined by two more, gaunt and clad in dark robes. They moved quickly, silently, disquieted in their own way. Their blasphemies were a matter of course, as vital as the need for food and water; their failures, however, were not, especially not to such a catastrophic scale.

The stones wore streaks of blood and ichor and there was little enough, flesh or otherwise, to be recovered. They marched melancholy, muttering at how the very vines that draped the high walls seemed to twitch when they were not looking. In one chamber they toed around the crushed remains of black, chitinous things that bristled with wings and talons. As they passed and as she passed after them, she knelt and peeled what she supposed must have once been a scythe-clawed limb of one such creature off the floor. It was light in her hands and she ignored the soft buzz that dug into her nerves where ever her skin touched its surface. It was in the following chamber, the round chamber littered with scraps of torn cloth and aether-scorched bone that was surely their destination, that she drew near enough to listen closely.

"How could this be? They had all the resources they could have needed."

"We cannot stand for this. We risked too much."

"The glyphs were perfect. They had to have been. Checked a dozen times at least."

"Sabotage? Do you think this was sabotage?"

Three hooded heads turned and gauged one another, tense and disbelieving. Then something whispered and went crack! and three then found itself short one, which had somehow ended up rolling upon the ground, trailing a heavy dribble of crimson.

Delial very nearly took another before they turned and saw her stepping forward. That head crunched sickly instead as the stiff blackened claws dug and tore through the side of its skull, sending the rest of its body falling bonelessly to join its fallen comrade. She did not bother to retrieve her makeshift weapon. The one that remained stared, raising its - no, his hands as though he intended to fight back. He would have a knife upon his person, she knew, but he hesitated for far, far too long. Her hands met his chest and she pushed outwards with raw aether, blasting the wind from his lungs and his feet off the ground. His body tumbled to a halt little more than a yalm away but before he could rise, his chest was met with a none-too-gentle boot that pinned him down hard. Delial relented only when she felt cleats scrape bone, locking her gaze to wide, young eyes.

"Now," she said, "I think we ought have some words."

Kellach Woods · **06-27-2015, 08:58 PM**

How long has it been since Kellach had received a letter from his brother?

He'd lost count of the months - he figured him too busy with managing the farm, mounting an archaeological expedition in caverns even he did not know existed on Toegisil, securing a seat on the council and trying the hardest to manage the Garleans' expectations of the island.

Of course, he had his own worries - getting infected by void taint, escorting caravans, somehow stumbling onto leading an expedition into some Nymian ruins hoping to negociate with Tonberries, immediately reacting when the Tonberries attacked the expedition due to being filled with Rancor (and confirming that Rancor even exists!) among other things.

Now that everything seemed to have calmed down, he soon found that his brother hadn't written him in months. Even the Postmoogle'd not heard anything, and beyond a swift kick in the pom to start delivering that package he tasked him to deliver, he had no other message for Kellach.

Which made it all the more bizarre when a letter was deposited into his belongings bearing his brother's name. Scrambling over himself to read it, he pored over every word.

Einrich Woods Wrote:How fare you, Brother?

Never did I think I would stumble onto the very origins of our people while walking around the island, and yet this is exactly what happened. Imagine this, Brother - a cove with a ship with a design closer to Garlemald's than Eorzea's. Remnants of discarded robes and masks, as well as a language that is nigh incomprehensible written on the walls, notes and books found that none can read. How I wish I could send them to you, but I am afraid that the Garleans would find it suspicious if I were to leave a book in the middle of nowhere, much less one written in a language none here can read.

Speaking of that, I now know how these letters find their way to you. Ever since I've been in the cavern, I've been able to see the very letter carrier that you've employed. To think that such a creature could exist, much less lend its aid to mere men. More importantly, the Garleans are none the wiser, which suits our purposes of brotherly contact.

The council is still bending over the Garleans' every whim, and letting them do as they please. You know us, Brother, we are not fighters. That you even managed to become one actually blows my mind. What I wouldn't give to see you in action in Eorzea, slaying monsters, defending the populace... If only to find out how you do it.

Our sisters bonded themselves to another, so now Mother and I are truly alone at the farm. It's a loss of hands on the farm, but we're still fortunate that Mother can work as she does the work of a hundred men, and probably faster. She seems appreciative of the work I've done at the council. Father was never one for public affairs, and she feels my future would be better assured if I were to take up a charge full time, while becoming an Officiate on the side.

I have to admit, the idea tempts me, but my responsibilities is to her and to the farm. I gave my word to Father. By the way, his Tree is still growing well. This soothes my heart, considering the violent way in which he expired, and how he cursed the Elements that make up everything on his deathbed. The sickness had taken great root in him at that point, as we both know. Still, I'm glad I no longer need to worry about this. Anayah often takes care of the tree, even if she no longer has any obligation to the family. As far as Ketra is concerned, we've heard nothing of her, but her new home is on the other side of the island - We do not much have an occasion to see her, even when I am in town.

With love,
Brother

P.S. nwonk siht ekam ot tnaw ton od I dna sgnitirw tneicna eht daer nac I sa deil I taht wonk siht daer nac uoy fI

Asmodean · **06-28-2015, 06:56 PM**

The Roost was quite, much to the enjoyment of Asmodean. His hand still flared up in pain from the other day, and had caused him to be unable to do any form of training. The midlander sat, relaxed near the entrance, watching the comings and goings of other adventurer. A pair of tomes sat on the table, with an extra in his lap. When not watching other travelers, Asmo eyes dropped to the book in his lap before looking up to one of the tomes on the table. He then wrote down notes on the third empty tome.

As countless travelers came thought the inn, Asmodean always made sure to look up for to make sure he wasn't being watched by anyone. He had after all made a bit of a name from himself over the past few years as a man willing to take just about any job. However his glances wore more about making sure no one was trying to sneak a peek at what he was writing. A few hours pasted, more glaces about the inn and a few mugs of ale helped him lose himself for a time. Night came quickly to the Shroud.Â

Asmodean looked towards the entrance only to see the dark night greeting him. He sighed before closing all three tomes and packing them away, leaving a pair of letters having been hidden by the tomes on the table. He garbed the first and pulled a knife from his belt and carefully cut the seal open. He skimmed the letter quickly, a simple thank you for speaking at the Celebration of the Wanderer from Janics Milburga. He hadn't expected to receive a note fro what he had added but it brought a small smile to the worn traveler's face. He set it a side for the moment before taking the other letter and quickly skimmed it as well.

Quote:Dear Asmodean Gaindin,

Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Much has been spoken about you as of late in Ishgard due to your recent aid from the request of House Fortemps. The stories of your own as well of other in the culling of the local beast of the highlands as well as aiding when dragons attacked. They have become a favorite tale at the Forgotten Knight tavern. I send this letter in hopes to offer another line of word for a wander like yourself to once more offer some aid to Ishgard.

Â Â Â Â Â Â You will find a note granting you entrance to the city should you feel inclined to take me up on this offer.

Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â A friend,Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Ardolain of Clan Centurio.

Asmodean placed the letter aside, deep in thought.

At worst I waste a few days heading to the city, not like there is a lot of work around these parts. He thought to himself before stand and sliding the letters in to his traveling pouch. He now traveled to the far north, something he thought he might never be able to do.

Fate.... always a strange mistress.

Melodia · **06-29-2015, 09:18 AM**

*After the thread "Something to Fear"

She woke with a sharp cry and was dripping sweat. Alara was out and hadn't been privy to Melodia's nightmare. It had been on repeat in the suns since she'd been taken. The sight of the Lalafell dyingÂ before her. Over and over. Those final words would haunt her to the end of her days.Â The wounds on her back were healing but would leave scars. She didn't mind. She wanted them.

To remind her of the cost of her failure to stay engaged.

She winced as she sat up and threw the blankets off. Walking to the shower she washed, knowing the hot water would burn the lash marks but caring very little at the pain, as she'd more than earned it. In her self-imagined quest for sex she'd forgotten that she was tied to a past that was dangerous and that she had people she cared for now. As the sun came up over the horizon in the Mist housing district she dressed conservatively, shunning the short skirt for a set of trousers and the hempen top for a bliaud. slipped her boots on and before she headed to the door she pulled her axe from it's corner in the house. It had gotten a tad dusty and she wiped it clean before she strapped it to her back and headed out.

Limsa was her destination.

And before the sun set, she planned on getting her Yellowjacket uniform back.

***Nero*** · **06-30-2015, 01:03 AM**

((Short and thoughtless little thing to serve as a final sendoff to what could have been.))

--

A Proper Outfit

"How exactly is someone supposed to put on that many belts?" The young Midlander girl peered at the clothing stand, brushing away a coal-black streak of hair that contrasted heavily with the blazing crimson it stemmed from. She scrutinized the absurd outfit with an gray-blue eye filled with equal parts confusion and curiosity. The outfit in question seemed more akin to some kind of garishly coloured body trap intended to capture the wearer and hold them in submission, yet somehow also managed to be immodest and reduce the amount of fabric covering the skin to a hypothetical amount.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to. By the way, the answer is 'carefully'," a ruefully sardonic comment grumbled from behind her. "And you're not going to put me in that." The girl merely rolled her eyes.

"We already agreed to terms. You are the one who made that bet."

"I know."

"And you lost."

"I know."

"Six times!" The girl turned around and flailed her arms in the air as if to illustrate her frustration in some kind of avant-garde interpretive dance.

"Well....I let you win." The man merely shrugged, trying to play it off with a smirk less authentic than a piece of gil made with chocolate and wood. "S'what we call being magnanimous, around these parts."

The girl scoffed. "Firstly, you trying to burn this city down multiple times doesn't give you the authority to determine what is called what in 'these parts'. Secondly, the least you could do is be graceful and admit you lost fair and square. What's one of those stupid proverbs you keep spouting off? 'The badger knows the winner by the blood of the third north star's gasp' or some nonsense."

The man responded by glancing at her sharply with a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me, young lady, my proverbs are not stupid. And if you want to call them stupid, they're not even mine. They're your...well, not your grandfather's exactly but your...step...grandfather...twice removed?" He stopped briefly in his tirade to contemplate the implications before shaking his head to clear the mental cobwebs. "Anyway, what was I saying? Right. The stupid ones aren't mine. But the not stupid ones are. Also, those couldn't possibly be my proverbs anyway because they're not depressingly self-introspective and needlessly cynical enough." Another pause. "Have I mentioned how good your hair looks today?"

An exasperated groan wheezed from the girl's lips. "Mother is the only one with whom your obtuse compliments still work on, and speaking of which, how she gets flustered by them still is beyond me." She turned away to look at a different outfit, this one a remarkable silk sarouel and blouse set that shimmered in the light and embraced the featureless clothing stand that made the latter look remarkably handsome. The seams were trimmed with gold and silver embroidery, and if colours could become noise then the volume of the various gems embedded into the hem of the blouse would likely blast out any unfortunate glassware within a ten malm radius. Her eyes lit up and a hand trembled with the temptation to touch the immaculate material. "Something like this!" she gasped.

"I'm not wearing that. It doesn't say 'I hate myself and everyone around me for being less sarcastic' enough to be something I would wear," the man reproached, gazing at the outfit balefully. The Midlander girl's eyes rolled such that they threatened to come right out of their sockets.

"That's the point. You lost. Six times."

"Five times. That one with the goobbue and that pot of glue doesn't count."

"Seven times, now that I think about it carefully," the girl glared at the man. "You cheated as soon as you tried to tell the Yellowjackets that the kobolds figured out how to fly."

The man threw up his hands. "Can you blame a man for trying to play the game creatively?"

The girl pouted and jabbed a finger forcefully at the blouse. "You're wearing this."

The man glanced at the door. "Ah, but I'm also paying for it. Therefore, it stands to reason that--"

"You're wearing this! Seven times!" She nearly shouted with indignation, though the girl hushed quietly as soon as the Roegadyn in the tailcoat shot an irritated glance at her.

The man sulked his way over to the clothing stand. His gaze traced the outfit from the top down and the expression on his face morphed into one of abject horror as soon as it counted the number of zeros on the wooden placard at the clothing stand's base. "Did you even look at how expensive this is? Your mother would kill me! Or stab me! Or raise a sharp eyebrow at me and express quiet disapproval while covering her mouth to hide how amused she is because somehow she thinks nobody can see when she does that but everyone can but is too polite to say anything!"

The girl tilted her head, the black-streaked bangs of her hair falling around her slender face, before her mouth split into a crooked, mischievous smirk. "Redolent Rose owes me a favour. I think I can take care of it," she said demurely, batting her eyelashes at the man. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, peering at the young girl with a scrutinizing gaze from beneath faded orange bangs.

"I might be arrested for public indecency," he protested.

"Mother could get you out. Again. Probably."

"She probably wouldn't want to."

"But she probably will anyway."

"Why don't you wear it? You'd look good in it."

"It brings out your figure better," she said dryly.

The man smacked his palm against his forehead. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes and attempted to smile weakly. "So....you say it was seven losses, was it?"

"It'll become eight if you keep trying to weasel out of paying your due," she responded fiercely. He winced at the thought, and stared at the girl with a mix of curiosity and fear.

"How did you ever become such a terror, anyway?" he asked to nobody in particular, though if pressed for an answer he might have said that he was asking the Twelve.

The girl said nothing and merely smirked.

Askier · **07-01-2015, 08:29 PM**

"Get up." Ki growled at the bloody form lying on the ground.Â A cigarette was burning like the eye of Iftrit in Ki's mouth and smoke wreathed his head.Â the miqo'te's mismatched eyes were open and the golden optic of his left eye gleamed in the darkness.

The figure at his feet moan pitifully.Â Ki spat.

"I said, get up." Ki reached down with his left and hauled the bloody mess of a hyur to his feet.Â

"Please..." the hyur wheezed as he coughed, splattering Ki's face with blood.Â A tooth fell from the hyur's torqued jaw and bounced on the ground.Â

"Please what?"Â Ki grunted, making a face as he felt the man's flecks of blood running down his face.Â "Ain't my fault you didn't feel like payin' up like you was supposed to. Maybe you can get a few, fake teeth to go along with your fake goods!"

Ki heaved the man against the wall next to them.Â There was a wet smack and the man groaned as he slide over, smearing a trail of blood down the wall's side.Â Ki towered over the hyur.

"Please...I can get you the goods."Â the hyur pleaded desperately as more teeth fell out of his mouth.Â Ki saw the ivory bones and kicked them away.

"You already had the chance to do that.Â You tried to cheat me.Â Would it be smart business to let you do it again? Fool me once and all, eh?"Â Ki smirked as he reached into his coat and produced a flintlock pistol with an over-and-under barrel design and aimed it at the hyur.

The man looked up through swollen, puffy eyes and raised his hand.

"Wait!Â I can...get you what you need...for free!."Â

Ki snorted and drew the hammer back on the firearm.

"At this point, free is hardly worth-"

"I'll pay you!" the man shouted in earnest as he lay on the warm stones, blood running from his nose and dripping onto the cobblestones of the alley.

"Pay me?"Â Ki paused and thought.Â "So you'll give me what I want, and pay -me- for the goods?"

The battered hyur nodded and Ki laughed as he returned his weapon to it's holster beneath his white coat.

"And my sister said I'd never make it in business.Â Get your teeth and come on.Â I have places to be."

Melodia · **07-02-2015, 02:17 PM**

*Takes place immediately after "Something to Fear" and before Post #474 above.

The cave was eerily silent,Â Melodia's own weeping had stopped and she stood, pain rolling through her as the lash marks had set in. She looked at memories, dead at her feet and the poor man dead at her feet. She couldn't leave him. Not for the various scavengers and beasts that would tear him to pieces. That was unfair to him. Better they feast on some of their own among the other bodies littering the cave.

Despite her pain she knelt back and at first went to undo the armor and stopped. This was his armor. He was paladin. He'd earned it. He should be with it.

She'd found a digging tool in the camp and went to work, near the waters, digging a hole, despite her pain. It took some time and a few much needed breaks but soon it was deep enough to keep the beasts out. She pulled the Lalafell's body gently and eased him into the hole. She arranged his body so that his hands were clasped over his chest and said a silent prayer to the Twelve.

She quietly and among a few tears, filled the hole and packed it, working to ensure it looked untouched, using tricks she'd learned from her time with her mentor as a youth. She knelt and placed a kiss on her palm, placing it on the ground and she whispered, "You saved me. For that I woe you a debt that cannot ever be fully repaid. But I will make sure that I do right by your honor." She stood and left the cave quietly, a bloody, dirt-smudged mess, headed home to try and explain to her wife what had happened on this strange and terrible day.

C'kayah Polaali · **07-06-2015, 10:37 PM**

The room was dark except for a single candle. It was airy, with a parquet floor and pale wood paneling. Tall bookcases held esoteric histories of Eorzea and volumes of baroquely florid romantic poetry. C'kayah Polaali sat on the hideous red velvet sofa, a book balanced in his lap, a cup of wine on the table beside him. He held a crystal vial, ornately cut, with a pale green fluid inside. It shifted as he turned the vial, coating the insides with an oily film.

"My old friend", he purred, watching the way it caught the light. "My old enemy. You and I, our lives are entwined, aren't they?"

He smiled, shaking his head and slipping the vial back into his pocket. Of all the things from his past which he had turned to strengths, this was the one thing he had not been able to overcome. What matter, he thought to himself. Everyone had a weakness.

He reopened the book and began to read.

McBeefâ„¢ · **07-08-2015, 02:06 PM**

They had found her.

Heresy and cowardice ran in the blood, so they say. When one member of a family fell, the Inquisitors only need bide their time.

The bindings bit into her wrists as they strap her down into the cold metal chair, her clothes long having been cut off of her. So the truth has no where to hide, was the official reason why, but Evangeline knew the real reason. To make you feel powerless. Of course, she could have been in full plate, and still feel powerless before the inquisitors.

"Please... I... it was only a meeting, It was for my studies." She babbles, eyes wide with terror as one man heats an iron poker over a fire. Rivulets of dried blood cake the spaces between the stone floor, and brass drain lies under her feet.

"I'm not a heretic, please!" She cries, twitching and jerking at the restraints, chains rattling as the man walks closer, until she can start to feel the heat coming from the iron.

"PLEASE." She whimpers, "A-anything, what do you want?! N-names? Information, just please..."

"Lady Primrose." The man says, not unkindly, "Do not worry so, we are not your enemies."

She stares at him in disbelief, "W-what? I thought this was..."

He smiles softly, "We only wish to save your soul." With that he presses the poker into her shoulder, driving it and twisting it past charred skin and bubbling fat, as the room fills with the scent of cooked meat. Evangeline screams and howls, struggling against restraints that do not give.

The inquisitor leans down and strokes her hair, "Stop flailing about, ye fool."

Evangeline blinks, as the room grows darker and fades, morphing into a small chamber, lit by a flickering hearth. She is suddenly very aware of another body next to hers, pale green arms wrapped around her, and sleepily patting her hair, "Yer jerking like a fish on tha' line." the Roe mutters. Her shoulder is covered in white gauze, a steel shunt peeking from the dressing. Evangeline smiles, and kisses Klyn's forearm, before drifting back off to sleep.

This time a peaceful one.

Klynzahr · **07-08-2015, 05:49 PM**

When she was just fourteen summers old, Klynzahr had pried a six ilm long hand spike from her father's calf and sewn the wound shut, while the ship surgeon offered instructions over her shoulder. At eighteen, she had removed a man's leg from the thigh, with nothing to mute his screams aside from a bottle of whiskey and a stick to hold in his teeth. In her twenty second year she had set both of her brother's ankles, with nothing but a few old timbers and strips torn from their blankets. She had thought herself immune.

Yet none of it had prepared her for the things that Evangeline had uttered under her hand. Broken sobbing, screams of terror and curses to make a void-sent cringe would never have drawn a second thought from the Roegadyn, but the broken and half-delirious confessions that poured from Eva left her deeply shaken.

Very cautiously the Sea Wolf drew herself closer to Eva's feverish form, trying to keep herself balanced on the thin strip of remaining bed. If she closed her eyes, the sea wolf knew she would begin to roll and send either herself or Evangeline to the floor. So she resigned herself to watching her injured friend for a few bells longer, while her mind churned restlessly over the vestiges of torture that she had briefly glimpsed.

In opening her friends infected shoulder, Klynzahr's scalpel had disturbed ills that ran deeper than any abscess and spilled them out freely like an oozing puss. Feeling helpless, she ran her hand over Eva's feverish head. Some things lay far beyond her ability to heal.

**Unnamed Mercenary** · **07-08-2015, 09:38 PM**

â€œDo you think we might encounter brother now that they have relaxed the locks on the cityâ€™s gates?â€ The youngest daughter of seven mused as she tied the lacing of a particularly uncomfortable corset for the eveningâ€™s event. Like her younger brother, she had soft features, a dark brown hair she kept pristinely styled and an overly curious voice. â€œFrancette, you donâ€™t have the time to ponder such things again! We cannot be late to the Astrologiansâ€™ meetings once again. Please hurry and finish dressing! You know as well as I that our brother ran from the gates at his first opportunity. That heâ€™d even tried to keep in contact after deserting his position in the Dzemael Knights that father had worked so hard to appropriate for him is still a mystery.â€ The reprimands came from the eldest of the seven daughters in the Kirche family, Eloise. It was an odd coupling that the youngest and oldest daughters were the ones that had developed a sense for Astrology, the other five girls having found various positions in noble offices or on battlefields.

The small Duskwight family had served under the Dzemael household, for centuries, having found they were accepted without malice. â€œPlease Francette, hurry! You know it takes over a bell to reach the Observatorium. Have you finished?â€ From the end of a hallway in their home, the youngest daughter finally appeared, attempted to move as quickly as she could in the outfit. â€œItâ€™s...Iâ€¦.Iâ€™m nearly ready!â€ She managed to breathe out as she tried to lace up her left boot. â€œBy the Furyâ€™s wrath, why must we wear all of this?! I can hardly move, let alone have a breath.â€ She looked to nearly trip as she finished the knot of the lacing. â€œBecause this is the example we must set. Come now, we mustnâ€™t keep the carriage waiting any longer.â€ As they took their seats, Francette gazed out the window towards the gates to Ishgard, wondering aloud again.

â€œBut...if he did show up, do you think father would even speak to him? Itâ€™s been how many years now? Think of all the wonderful tales he could have of life outside the city!â€ â€œThe two of you really did come out the same, didnâ€™t you?â€ Eloise sighed slightly as she secretly wondered the same. It had been years since their youngest and only little brother had fled the city to live outside the gates to study the world. â€œBut...I suppose he likely returned to his addiction to studying. You of all should remember how hard it was to get his attention if there any books nearby.â€ Eloise had to be stern. She was the eldest daughter and soon to be the public face of the family. She simply did not have the time to wonder about Francois and whether he was surviving well on his own. Meanwhile, Francette had found her mind once again racing with various memories of their childhood. The words seem to endless flow from the more outgoing younger sibling. â€œOh of course I do! I can still remember the time heâ€™d found the book on Miqoâ€™te names and decided he wanted to be called by one as well! He... ,â€ she sniffled, tearing up just thinking about it again, â€œheâ€™ll come back! I just know it! Even the stars have predicted that heâ€™ll return to the city.â€ Francette tried to silence herself. She knew if she let herself say anymore, she would begin cry and then her makeup would run, and then they surely would be late for the eveningâ€™s read of the stars. She quietly uttered a few last words, thinking back on happier times.

â€œI just really miss him, is all. Itâ€™s been years. I still pray each night that Halone deliver him alive and well back homeâ€¦â€. Her eyes began to sting as some of the makeup got in them. Reaching for a handkerchief she kept in her coat, she lightly dabbed at her eyes to alleviate the pain. â€œIâ€™m sorry...itâ€™s happening again.â€ The youngest sister tried her best to not cry while her older sister turned away. Eloise did not know how to handle the situation. She couldnâ€™t handle the sight of her sister crying over the past once again and spoke as calmly as possible. â€œPlease Francette. You promised you would not let your makeup run. Just...make sure you have calmed yourself by the time we arrive.â€ Eloise took her turn of staring out the window. There was nothing of interest to see in the city, but it was a viable distraction. It was likely going to be a chilly evening as they approached the observatory.

« Next Oldest \| Next Newest »
Pages (45): « Previous 1 … 30 31 32 33 34 … 45 Next » Jump to page:

Bulletin Board

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