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GloryRhodes · **09-23-2015, 09:18 PM**

Tonberry's Lantern would like to congratulate

Mr. Jameson Taeros of Ul'Dah

&

Miss Edda Eglantine of Gridania

upon the event of their

Engagement

Thought to be dead, Mr. Taeros has returned to society in order to take the hand of Miss Eglantine after becoming besotted of her advertisement for Bronco Storm. Â Friends and family are encouraged to send their regards in person to the Eglantine family estate at Summerford.

Coatleque · **09-23-2015, 10:39 PM**

It was the tenth time that morning she had read over the announcement. She laid the parchment down flat upon her desk and traced the letters of his name with her index finger. The other four tips slowly touching the paper as well when she reached the end. They suddenly curled up forcefully as her hand ripped the paper off the desk and crumpled it into a ball which was then thrown across her office into the wall.

That moment had finally come. The low point after the rush of making a stupid and dangerous mistake. The realization of future regret began to set in. Coatleque rubbed her temples as she stared down into her desk. "Why did I ask her to print this?" The sudden and faintest of glow from her side pocket was the only response.

Melkire · **09-24-2015, 12:46 AM**

From behind the bars of his cell, there was little else to be done other than to pore over the article again... and again... and again. To say that he'd spent most of the sun fuming was an understatement; he was livid. He'd risked life and limb, present and future, for a chance to bring an end to no small amount of suffering, and for what? Gods damned rook was still milling about, and here he was rotting away in gaol.

Dead men walkin', the lot of 'em. Not for ruttin' lack o' tryin'.

Infuriating, was what this was. Adonis, Epinoch, Taeros; the faces didn't matter. What mattered was that the dead refused to stay dead. Knowing that the struggle, all the pain and tears and blood... knowing that the struggle would never amount to any meaningful change... that was eating him alive, killing him from the inside out. The knowing.

Knowing that Lazarov had been right.

"I will escape with no difficulty, and face no punishment for the wrongs I've committed."

Futile.

"The choices you make when no one is looking paint you as a man not too dissimilar to I."

He'd been engaged in little more than exercises in futility for more moons than he could be bothered to count. All he had to show for the pain and tears and blood were a handful of lives here and there. Innocents. Bystanders.

"The women and children."

His hands moved seemingly on their own. No thought drove them, other than perhaps the thought that he'd had enough. Tearing the Lantern in half didn't seem sufficient. Quarters... no. Eighths. Sixteenths. He bounded off his cot and cast the shreds into the far corner of his cell with a roar.

"You care that much?!"

"I swore an oath."

He wanted to be done. He so desperately wanted this to be over. He wanted his freedom. He wanted to take his family and flee to the farthest corner of the realm, to a place where heartless men couldn't follow. He wanted his life back.

"Pick your own ground and stand on it, gods damn you."

The most difficult task, he thought, is always the taking of one's own advice.

"As you serve, you will live, and as you live, you will serve.â€

"Do your best, Flame Sergeant."

He stepped over to the bars, took them in hand, and marveled at how the cast iron wasn't what held him here. He could've broken out at any time, had he wanted... but that would've meant a life on the run. He'd be a vigilante in truth, then. Outcast, exiled, a man on the run from the law was in no position to shield his own family, let alone the innocent. No. He had to let the system work.

Bless you, Lights. Bless each 'n' every one of you.

"I WANT ME A BARRISTER! GET ME A BLEEDIN' BARRISTER, RUTTERS, OR I SWEAR ON RHALGR'S NAME, THERE'LL BE BLOOD SMEARED ACROSS YOUR GODS-DAMNED WALLS, SHADOWS CREEPIN' THROUGH YOUR PRECIOUS PISSIN' PALACE, AND MY FIST THROUGH THE HEART O' THE SWORNS' OWN GUTLESS CAPTAIN!"

Death ain't to your likin', Jameson? Fine. Destruction'll suit.

"GET ME A BARRISTER!"

McBeefâ„¢ · **09-24-2015, 01:15 AM**

(09-24-2015, 12:46 AM)Melkire Wrote: From behind the bars of his cell, there was little else to be done other than to pore over the article again... and again... and again. To say that he'd spent most of the sun fuming was an understatement; he was livid. He'd risked life and limb, present and future, for a chance to bring an end to no small amount of suffering, and for what? Gods damned rook was still milling about, and here he was rotting away in gaol.

Dead men walkin', the lot of 'em. Not for ruttin' lack o' tryin'.

Infuriating, was what this was. Adonis, Epinoch, Taeros; the faces didn't matter. What mattered was that the dead refused to stay dead. Knowing that the struggle, all the pain and tears and blood... knowing that the struggle would never amount to any meaningful change... that was eating him alive, killing him from the inside out. The knowing.

Knowing that Lazarov had been right.

"I will escape with no difficulty, and face no punishment for the wrongs I've committed."

Futile.

"The choices you make when no one is looking paint you as a man not too dissimilar to I.

He'd been engaged in little more than exercises in futility for more moons than he could be bothered to count. All he had to show for the pain and tears and blood were a handful of lives here and there. Innocents. Bystanders.

"The women and children."

His hands moved seemingly on their own. No thought drove them, other than perhaps the thought that he'd had enough. Tearing the Lantern in half didn't seem sufficient. Quarters... no. Eighths. Sixteenths. He bounded off his cot and cast the shreds into the far corner of his cell with a roar.

"You care that much?!"

"I swore an oath."

He wanted to be done. He so desperately wanted this to be over. He wanted his freedom. He wanted to take his family and flee to the farthest corner of the realm, to a place where heartless men couldn't follow. He wanted his life back.

"Pick your own ground and stand on it, gods damn you."

The most difficult task, he thought, is always the taking of one's own advice.

"As you serve, you will live, and as you live, you will serve.â€

"Do your best, Flame Sergeant."

He stepped over to the bars, took them in hand, and marveled at how the cast iron wasn't what held him here. He could've broken out at any time, had he wanted... but that would've meant a life on the run. He'd be a vigilante in truth, then. Outcast, exiled, a man on the run from the law was in no position to shield his own family, let alone the innocent. No. He had to let the system work.

Bless you, Lights. Bless each 'n' every one of you."

"I WANT ME A BARRISTER! GET ME A BLEEDIN' BARRISTER, RUTTERS, OR I SWEAR ON RHALGR'S NAME, THERE'LL BE BLOOD SMEARED ACROSS YOUR GODS-DAMNED WALLS, SHADOWS CREEPIN' THROUGH YOUR PRECIOUS PISSIN' PALACE, AND MY FIST THROUGH THE HEART O' THE SWORNS' OWN GUTLESS CAPTAIN!"

Death ain't to your likin', Jameson? Fine. Destruction'll suit.

"GET ME A BARRISTER!"

Somewhere, somehow, Evangeline's ears twitch.

Lydia Lightfoot · **09-24-2015, 04:47 AM**

Calliope, having not had the fortune - or perhaps misfortune, for who could say, having never done - of meeting them, though nothing of the paper she'd tugged from a fate of drifting across cobbles upon the street of Ul'dah. It had been tucked into the pack slung over the tomboy's shoulders without even a glance upon the words as she frolicked out the north gate on her way to see if the fish were biting.Â

A nibble at the line, a tweak of her cork, and a slight jerk of the rod ended ultimately with a lovely trout clutched in her thin fingers, and her little pink tongue poked out of the corner of her rosy lips as she concentrated on the task of removing the head and innards of the unfortunate trout. Plop!Â Into the water they went, followed by the fins, and a few rubs of the blade and a dunk into the drink freed the future meal of scales. With her blade stuck into the root of a stump, it was then that the diminutive woman reached into her pack and produced the paper, which she set upon the top of the stump.

"Oh...? Someone's engaged? Aw, that's nice. They sound important, maybe. Hm." In a moment of idle pause, she considered the flyer and whether or not she might get into some manner of trouble for taking it. Ultimately, the duel of thoughts was resolved with the conclusion that they should've used better nails to tack it to whatever it was put onto, and then it wouldn't have been blowing across the road... so really it was their own fault, anyway.

Thlup!Â She smacked the cleaned fish onto the paper, and then neatly wrapped it up and tied it with a little length of twine. The piscine parcel found a new home in her pack, and with her fishing pole resting upon her shoulder she began her trek back to town without giving the matter any further contemplation.

Warren Castille · **09-24-2015, 07:44 AM**

The Lantern was equal parts word on the street and useless fishwrapper, with the only qualifier between them being the name under the headline. This was a statement tantamount to fact for Warren Castille. The Highlander kept up on the news out of habit and good practice, long used to trying to gleam fact from baseless rumor and pairing factual reporting with gil-backed agenda. This headline in particular caused all of those instincts and patterns to be set aside for something else.

What prices had been paid to prevent this? No, not prices. Sacrifices, pieces of themselves thrown away and cast into the fires. Smoke and fire turning the stink of the sewer into something entirely worse, cries and shouts and blood spilled to bring about resolution that wouldn't come. Angry, hateful eyes turning glassy. Kill or be killed. What had happened to those who'd walked through that level of Hell?

I'm just saying... You should keep an eye on Melkire. Just in case.

Words from an assassin, a request to bridge the distance. Unheeded, now. Lynx had fallen in with the Grindstone since then, but Melkire... Who the hell knew? The newspaper was in his hands and in front of his face, but Warren was looking at those eyes. Resentful. Hateful. Blood spilled for nothing, another meaningless death.

Leggerless · **09-24-2015, 10:01 AM**

Elise sat on a bench at the docks in La Noscea, listening to the water flow as it made its way around the island. There was a meeting arranged with an old friend, one whom she'd not seen for the past few moons. In her hands she read through the various articles, shifting through the Bronco Grease adverts and stories, stopping with the engagement announcement at one name in particular.

Jameson Taeros.

You should keep an eye on Melkire. Just in case.

The words drifted back into her mind--ones long forgotten yet ever present. The very words she said to Ser Castille in the first few weeks as an Overseer for the Grindstone after the events in the Black Pit. Though the effort she spent to eliminate the man was minimal at best, a sour taste lingered in her mouth; a man killed yet back from the dead within a cycle's time. There was a missing piece here... some reason for his return. Some other entity that gave him a second chance at life.

While she thought on the matter, she read through the article three times before setting the lantern closed and in her lap. Looking out into the distance, she thought about her current life: she was offered a place to stay at Duskbreak, fell in love with a cheerful and free-spirited Miqo'te, and set aside many demons from her past while a demon herself. Before she thought any further, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning her head slightly left while gazing forward, she talked with a small smile on her face.

"It's been far too long. We have catching up to do, C'kayah."

Knight Kat · **09-24-2015, 11:01 AM**

Kiht squinted her eyes as she reread the announcement. She sat casually on a stump while a campfire steadily burned away in front of her. After a moment of thought, she sat up then moved one leg over the other.

"Silly news people." She spoke out loud in an amused voice then shrugged, and grabbed an apple that had been sitting at her side.

She smirked then took a bite. The crunch was a bit aggressive as she chewed it down a bit quicker than she usually would. "Such a shite jest..."

Kiht suddenly stood from her seat, hurled the apple into the near-by river then drew her knife. She ruthlessly stabbed the newspaper three times then began to rip it to shreds.

After countless rips and tears, she threw the remains into the fire, and sat back down. Her knife was slipped back into its sheath. However, despite the violent outburst, she regained her calmness quickly.

"They must think highly of their humor... Waste of ink."

The fire burned stronger for a few moments as it consumed the paper.

Kage · **09-24-2015, 11:20 AM**

The Lalafell sat at a table in the Carline Canopy, having decided to take a moment's rest before heading home. He sat with one leg crossed over the other as it restlessly tapped at whatever the foot could reach. Damned chairs not quite meant for Lalafell! Kage perused over the paper, skipping over the odd adverts he had seen before, shaking his head when his jaw dropped.

So Ser Crofte was not mistaken and Taeros truly did... but... It had to be known by some or just to Kage himself. He was absolutely floored that Ser Crofte had even slept with the man! Taeros, really? Kage could not help wondering if perhaps Mcbeef had done the same... Perhaps. And the woman he was marrying! Miss Edda! First Ser Crofte and now Miss Edda. The Lalafell didn't know what to think.

Surely Miss Edda would not fall for Taeros's stupid... foppy...

"ARGH!"

The Lalafell's outburst as he threw the paper at the floor drew attention from the adventurers and the staff. His cheeks flushed, and he bowed and muttered his apologies as he picked up the trash.

Surely Miss Edda was being forced in some way. Yes? Surely it was something of her family... Yes! Surely it was her father forcing Miss Edda to agree to this farce. Kage persed his lips as he turned to leave. He wondered if Taeros had any assets to his name that would go directly to Miss Edda if the stupid fop of a man died.

Cato · **09-24-2015, 11:21 AM**

It wasn't unusual for all manner of leaflets and news publications to be thrust in Graeham's direction whenever he took a stroll through Ul'dah's market district. Most of it revolved around idle gossip or propaganda and yet from time to time he found that something would pique his curiosity.

He studied the publication within his hands and raised a blond eyebrow. It took a moment for realisation to dawn upon him for one of the listed names was familiar...yet at first he could not put a face to the name. A soft smile played upon his lips as he recalled the regal Lady Edda. They had crossed paths but once and yet she had left a positive impression upon the youth back when they had both visited Limsa's finest restaurant at the same time.

"May she find happiness alongside her beloved..." he stated before carefully stowing away the piece of parchment within his tunic. He would have to keep an eye out for her so that he could extend his well wishes directly.

McBeefâ„¢ · **09-24-2015, 01:11 PM**

The man drinking coffee at the airship bar does not seem to notice or care as a Robed Miqo'te looks over his shoulder. Her eyes scan the cheap newsprint he is reading.

"Truly?"Â

She purses her lips as her long tail swishes against the floor, "He is whoring himself out for such a paltry gain?"Â

"First Kayah, and now this." The Miqo'te frowns and walks away, "I am beginning to question my choices in men."

Jana · **09-24-2015, 06:47 PM**

So the yoke is moved from one woman to another. Jana frowns as she puts the paper aside, drinking a mug of way-too-cooled coffee in a candlelit break from her tome work. I'm happy that ser Crofte is freed of that influence, but lady Edda doesn't deserve this either.

Askier · **09-25-2015, 07:35 AM**

Jin'li sat at a table with a cup of tea in one hand, the paper in the other and a plate full of jam and toast beside him.Â

His black optics slowly consumed article after article as he steadily ingested toast and tea in equal measures.

The miqo'te paused and blinked as one head line stood out. Jin'li read it. Then shrugged and turned the page.

"This one was coming back from the dead before it was cool."

(Hipster cat is hipster \O/ lol)

C'kayah Polaali · **09-25-2015, 03:06 PM**

C'kayah walked into the beachfront cafe, the warm morning breeze ruffling his hair. His espadrilles made a whispering sound across the board while his two foster daughters padded along side him. The cafe had open sides, and they sat at a table where they could hear the shush shush of waves rolling in.

"Gahveh", he said with a smile to the waitress, after she helped him settle the girls in their high chairs. "And a paper, please. I heard something interesting yesterday."

Breakfast was warm toast and eggs, applesauce and oats for the girls. He opened the paper, smiling at the engagement announcement. "Elise was right", he mused. "What a strange, small world this is."

He held up the paper for the girls, grinning foolishly at them. "Look at the fop, girls! Look at the fop! Siiiiiiiilly fop!"

Engagement Announcement

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