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

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 10:51 AM**

A fresh wind tumbled its way across the low grasses and dusty trails of the Central Thanalan savannah. With it came the slightly damp smell of a rain just recently past, its presence marked by the dampness that still clung to brush and blades of grass. It was the former that caused the most discomfort for one young Chachanji Gegenji, who had decided to mirror the ways of his brief mentor by using a nearby shrub as cover to pick out his prey. He quickly noted that it was rather hard to get a good stalk on when droplets of rainwater kept slipping betwixt the gaps in his self-made armor and tickling his small form with their chilling touch. The young Lalafell wondered if he'd be better off out in the open like Gran, who was snuffling at the various flora and nibbling on bits of them.

Chacha's mark for this hunt? Same as during his lesson with Ms. Artemis; the unsuspecting hornet buzzing about seemingly without a care. The green-haired youth reached slowly for his blade, his hand hesitating briefly mere finger-widths from the grip. His body too easily recalled the pains of the last venture, the stings of the irate hornet complemented by a bevvy of bites all too happily provided by a pair of marmots he stumbled over during his egress. The fact he was here without a watchful pair of eyes was also troubling; there would be no bending of the elements to dissuade his opponents with blasts of expertly manipulated aether.

And yet, Chachanji assured himself as his indigo-hued blade hissed its way out of its sheath, what kind of hero would he be if he couldn't even overcome the local wildlife? He was certain he was destined for great things, and such lofty goals couldn't be stymied by a mere insect - even if it was nearly as big as he was. Not to mention he'd been working on getting Gran to obey an attack command and the baby behemoth had kinda-sorta looked at what he had pointed at in their last attempt. The young Lalafell was certain that the baby behemoth just needed the thrill of battle to really understand the urgency, was all.

Besides, he was wielding both arms and armor he had crafted himself under the strict tutelage of his father back in Doma. And if he couldn't trust in finely-crafted (if a bit misshapen) Gegenji gear, what could he? His shield - he firmly reminded himself - should easily be able to turn aside that painful stinger, provided he had the wherewithal to present it between his person and his opponent. Chacha nodded firmly to himself, his family-borne dour-looking face taking a determined expression quite readily. It was time.

"Raaaagh!" came his proud war-cry as young Chachanji charged out of the brush in an explosion of small twigs and dew-covered leaves, his blade held high. He could feel the rush of the wind and the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran, the blur of the terrain neatly avoided by the fact he was doing so with his eyes squeezed shut in masterful concentration. A few more steps and he swung his blade with a powerful downward force that was sure to strike the beast down in one fell blow!

... If it hadn't whiffed completely, instead only unleashing its undoubtedly vicious bite into the soft prairie ground. The scene was quiet beyond the monotonous buzz of the hornet's mighty wings. Since he hadn't heard the sickening crunch of metal on carapace, young Chachanji warily opened one violet eye. That eye met the multifaceted ones of the insect looming in front of him, looking rather unimpressed with his actions. The little Lalafell smiled sheepishly and gave a nervous chuckle.

"Um... heh heh... hi?"

~*~

"Waaaaah!" Chachanji cried as he beat feet across the savannah, irate hornet close behind. "Gran, do something!"

Stalwart Gran looked up from the grasses he was taste-testing, snorted once, and returned to his dining.

"I meant something helpful!" the Lalafell clarified with a whine, stumbling around a rocky outcropping. "Ms. Artemis! Somebody! HAAAALP!"

Warren Castille · **11-17-2014, 11:30 AM**

Every adventurer has a soft-spot for someone in need. The thrill of battle is a strong attractor to many, but deep down a lot of the folks doing good work began doing so on account of someone else's well-being. That's how Warren Castille felt about life, anyway, and while he wasn't formally an adventurer he often found himself doing the sorts of things a proper adventurer would do. The Free Paladin was recognized by Ul'dah as one of their own, and when he wasn't standing watch over the Quicksand - something he had chosen to do less and less since recent events - he sought to repay his imagined debt by working "freelance" as security for the frequent coming-and-going trade caravans. It wasn't just duty that led him towards seeing them off and safely home, but duty would suffice.

Warren was already buckled into his armor and atop his chocobo, waiting by the city gates before the sun had begun to climb out of its bed. His life before settling in Thanalan had stuck the rigors of trailblazing deep in his bones and he wouldn't permit himself to waylay a group of traders now, especially not when they'd been suspecting an escort on the way to the Shroud. Warren knew full and well that Victory could catch them, but he wouldn't stand to let them down on that notion.

The ride itself was fairly straightforward. North out of Ul'dah to Black Brush, then east to Drybone and beyond. The collection would be stopping to peddle their wares in Highbridge and that was where Warren departed from them. The southern Shroud awaited them a few malms down the road and despite there being commotion with the local kobolds and rumors of Amal'jaa scouts there was enough of a presence by the Brass Blades for both their company and Warren to feel secure in breaking off.

It was only just getting into midday when Warren returned back to the rocky terrain of Central Thanalan. He'd debated stopping in Black Brush for a meal but decided against it; He could find pleasant company back home and wasn't so hungry that he couldn't wait. A rumbling stomach and the guarantee of fine food and finer companionship beat eating alone any day.

Victory trotted idly along the trail while Warren kept his attention spread out. He was half-keeping watch and half-letting his mind wander a bit. He was just considering stopping by the well-worn grounds the Grindstone occupied when his attention was diverted by a scream for help. Warren snapped back to the here-and-now and pulled Victory's reins in the direction of the noise.

Surely the sight would have been something a bit more terrifying to behold than what the poor lalafell was hoping for: Behind him nipped the claws and mandibles of a hostile insect, but bounding across the plains towards him was a massive chocobo clad in crested armor. The armored paladin atop it was likely an afterthought, if even a thought at all.

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 11:50 AM**

Tiny feet thundering through the grass, panic and worry at the forefront of his mind, little Chachanji was acting solely on primal instinct. The armored chocobo that appeared before him registered as little more than a new, sudden obstacle to be avoided. As if to compound the situation, the Lalafell's subconscious helpfully decided to recall the marmots from last time as a comparison - adding even more panic to the poor boy's already fear-addled mind.

His eyes caught a glimpse of another rocky outcropping to his right, configured such that there was a small gap betwixt the boulders and other loose stones. To some, it might've just been an interesting talking piece. To the panicked Lalafell, however, it was a tiny bastion from which to defend himself.

Chachanji turned sharply, skittering on the loose dirt and pebbles before falling onto his hands and knees. The twangs of pain from the impact, plus the abrasiveness of the ground, only registered briefly in his mind. With the insect still making a literal bee-line for him, he scampered wildly on all fours for the gap. Diving in, he twisted around just enough to put his shield up and cower behind it, praying to the Twelve that the hornet's vicious stinger couldn't find purchase.

Warren Castille · **11-17-2014, 12:10 PM**

The lalafell diverted hard to the left, from the vantage point Victory had, revealing the source of his panic. An overgrown wasp was buzzing angrily towards the poor boy, who was now scuttling into a rocky outcropping to try and hide from the bug. Warren kicked his heels and led the bird straight on. Victory couldn't help but let out something resembling a warcry - for a flightless bird, anyway - and the familiar gesture let him know that there was about to be some excitement.

...There would have been, at any rate, had the bee not realized it was no longer the dominant hunter of the local area. Valuing its life and wings over settling a dispute with a lalafell, the hornet banked and buzzed off as Victory snapped its beak and trotted after it. With a receding bbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz the nightmare was over.

The bird knew it, too, and Warren could feel how remiss the bird was that playtime was over already. The rider turned the bird back towards the outcropping and he dismounted upon approaching it. He rattled slightly when his boots set to the ground as the chains of his armor clinked together and his sizable sword and shield shook in their restraints.

"The bee is gone. It's safe to come out now. Are you alright?"

Dasair · **11-17-2014, 12:37 PM**

It was rather late into the sun, and the dark skinned, dark clothed nocturnal duskwight was already fairly run down. Â The intense light of mid-day in Central Thanalan did nothing for Xavarian's vision, as he squinted into the desert, letting sounds guide him more than sight, and trusting the charcoal-plumed chocobo he was riding with the rest. Â At the very least, Vathen had been mostly unpacked of his usual cargo by now, so the chocobo seemed to be racing on at a quicker-than-average pace, something the duskwight could hardly argue with. Â But all the more likely for him to rush into something unseen. Â This is why deserts were such a problem, there often wasn't much to be heard beyond the crunch of sand and wi- "Ms. Artemis! Somebody! HAAAALP!"

Well, that was new. Â Aether chilling the air around him briefly, Xavarian snapped his head towards the direction of the sound, and thought he might make something out scuttling not too far off... or was that a hornet? Â Some kind of bird? ...A buzzard? Â Or some tiny pig? Â He squinted that way, as though narrowed eyes might discern something more, before he veered right to steer the gray-plumed bird closer. Â Whatever it was, seemed small enough to be trampled, though perhaps with a bit of issue, and in caution, Xavarian dismounts a ..sufficient distance away from the 'commotion'. Â It'd certainly do no one favors to accidentally run them down. Â By the time he gets closer to see what might be happening, it appeared that one of the critters (or people) had wedged themselves into some rocks where as the bee-buzzard seemed to be closing in.

Yet within moments, there was the unmistakeable sound of a chocobo's gallop against sand, with clanging armor no less, seeming to charge right into the scene. Â Xavarian hesitated, squinting into the sun with a hand shielding his eyes. Â Was that someone coming to help, or a persuer? Â Now would be the time to stop them, if he was going to- but by the hells, being certain in this forsaken sunlight. Â Instead he opted to walk a bit closer pulling his staff from its straps on his back, hopefully to see clearer before the man dismounted, and the words that carried from the scene answered the questions for him.

At this, the dark duskwight pauses, opting not to approach any nearer just yet, but instead to call over, leaving enough room for him still to cast a spell of sleep or ice if need be.

"I-Is all well over there?" Â An uncertain deep voice carries, followed by pursed lips and a small, chilled breeze.

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 12:42 PM**

Chachanji tensed at the voice, letting out a tiny "meep" that echoed a bit too loudly in his ears given the small space he had wedged himself into. As the urgency and panic slowly drained away with the fading buzz of the hornet's wings, he ventured a wary glance over the edge of his little bronze shield. The pair of violet eyes were still wide and wet with the remnants of terrified tears. As such, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust - even with his natural Dunesfolk gloss - and take in the visage of his savior.

Savior... Even the word caused his ears to burn a bit in embarrassment. He was supposed to be a hero! He was supposed to be the one doing the saving, not the other way around! He knew his armor and sword were totally up to the task, so it both upset and confused him that he would crack so readily once under pressure.

All those worries and concerns melted away, however, once he got a look at the gentleman who had chased off the hornet. With all the awe and wonder Chachanji had for the Sultansworn, the young Lalafell was quick to identify the garb - differently hued as it was. His surprise was marred a little by the fact that, when he straightened in surprise, he neatly clonked his head against the "roof" of his little hidey-hole. He then deemed it a rather good idea to crawl out before continuing any sort of conversation.

"Ow..." he moaned weakly as he clambered to a full standing position - which was not much, given his wee stature - and rubbed the afflicted area of his head. A couple brief rubs and he quickly turned his violet-hued attentions to the armored man before him, flashing a sheepish smile. "Oh! Um... many thanks, ser!"

He was at a loss for words on how to continue, though. What would he say? That he was out swinging a sword at the wildlife like a loon in an attempt to shore up the skills needed to be a hero? That, despite having some decently crafted arms and armor, that he had turned tail without even testing their merits against his foe?

Gran decided around that point to rejoin his master, bumping him neatly in the behind and sending the little Lalafell stumbling forward a step. Chacha looked over his shoulder to discern the cause of the sudden impact, and his worry was quickly replaced with a childish anger. Forgetting the rather tall and fully armored gentleman for the moment, he whirled to face the baby behemoth.

"Gran!" he childed, waggling a chubby finger the behemoth's way. "Where were you? You were supposed to have my back!"

Gran snuffled in response.

"Don't give me that look! I know you don't know howta throw rocks yet but you coulda done something!"

It was quite the sight to see, a wee Lalafell verbally dressing down what looked more or less like a purple, horned piglet.

Warren Castille · **11-17-2014, 12:54 PM**

Warren was relieved to see the lalafell was unharmed and gave the diminutive lad a once-over. Warren's penchant with a hammer had always been more towards reparation than creation but even his limited vision could see the lad's arms and armor were well-tended. He was prepared to remark on that and indulge in a bit of puffery to try and buck up the guy when his purple pork friend approached and engaged him.

Warren maintained his stoic silence while the lalafell dressed down his compatriot. He had always been an awful judge of relative ages and the often-youthful features of the lalafell peoples did him no favors in surmising how old or young the guy was, though his declaration to the pig made him suspect the smallfolk was a bit on the shorter side of the number line.

The paladin turned his attention to the elezen and his chocobo companion off in the shallow distance. He reflexively reached for Victory's reins hanging loose against his yellow feathers and raised his free hand in greeting.

"Things seem to be okay over here! A bit of aggressive fauna is all." Warren's tone was cordial and polite enough, though he wondered what the nature of the confrontation between the lalafell and the hornet was. "It has been well taken care off, unless that hornet was a particularly popular one and is off rallying his cohorts." He grinned a little, passing a glance at the lalafell to see if there's a reaction.

Dasair · **11-17-2014, 01:12 PM**

Taking only a few idle steps closer in the ongoing hope of a clearer view, the dark silhouette of an Elezen smirks at the conversation he hears, and the explanation given. Â Any chilled breezes there were seem to have blown onward for the time being.

"One can hardly be sure, hm~? Â They can be tricky at times..~" Â The words came spoken with a bit of a lilt, before a glance is spared in the direction the hornet flew. Â At least one of his guesses had been right. Â Though if this had been the Shroud, a group of reinforcements might not be so odd. Â Something to note for later; hornets keep singular in the desert. Â Maybe. Â His gaze flicks back to the duo and their companions.

"But I'm glad what needed tending has passed. Â And ah" Â He gestures vaguely with his staff. Â "That all seem sound and unharmed, hm?"

The dark chocobo draws nearer to the mage, nudging his head lightly with a bump. Â Xavarian lets out a small huff, as though the bird would understand what that was supposed to mean.

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 02:04 PM**

Chachanji blanched at Warren's insinuation that more hornets might be on the way.

"You... you really don't think so," he asked worriedly, looking turning slightly to gaze back in the direction he assumed the hornet had fled. He flitted his gaze back to the armored Hyur before adding: "... Do you?"

The little Lalafell caught himself around that point, shaking his head vigorously before patting at his cheeks to try and regain his composure. No no no! That's no way for a hero to behave! He should be ready and able to take on a hornet or three! That's why he was out here doing this!

He attentions turned to the Elezen as he spoke and - at first - he felt a little put off being in conversation with not one, but two very tall folk! His own distinctive lack of height had him wondering if there was something around he could stand on so he could at least be on eye-level with the Highlander, at least. It was only after all that ran through his mind that he actually noticed what the Duskwight had actually said.

"Oh! I'm all right, yes!" He thumped his little breastplate soundly for emphasis. "'Your will may falter, but your Gegenji gear never will!' That's what my Papa says!"

He paused for a beat, poking his index fingers together bashfully.

"Y'know... when I can remember that," he muttered softly. "Stupid bug."

Gran, on the other hand, had happily trotted up to Victory and was giving the armored steed a good sniff.

Warren Castille · **11-17-2014, 02:24 PM**

Upon seeing the poor lala's reaction, Warren felt a smidge guilty for teasing.

"We'll likely not see that bee or his friends today. You won't have anything to fear from them for a while." He smiled compassionately at the lalafell and listened to his reply to the duskwight that had approached. Warren's brow twitched a small bit at the reference to Gegenji but he made no other outward reaction to it.

Victory looked at the snortling piglet with a mild curiosity. The purple plaything didn't pose much of a threat so he humored the animal by investigating in return, just a nudge to the porker's side to see what it did.

"If you don't mind my say so, you look a little uncomfortable in that get-up. New to the career?"

Dasair · **11-17-2014, 02:48 PM**

When the Duskwight could finally discern clearly the Lalafell before him, he seemed content in his position. Â The faint smile on his lips persisted through the reaffirmation, and Xavarian nodded, leaning forward against his staff some while continuing to shield his eyes and squint. Â He was tired, but also curious. Â For but a moment, Vathen received a side-glance, a look almost as though assuring the bird of something or other, before the bright teal eyes looked back to the Lalafell.

" 'Gegenji gear'..." Â He mutters quietly. Xavarian actually had a mild interest in the answer to the Hyur's question, and knew well enough that it's simple to ignore some inquiries when others are asked. ...He, himself, might have done that all the time. Â So instead of pursuing his thoughts, the mage silently mouths 'Gegenji' a few times, as though to remember. Had he heard that word before? Â Taking notes in this light would be dreadful. Â ... But it could be done. Â Should it be done? Â Yes, it most certainly should.

While returning his staff to the straps on his back, and finagling the sizeable tome and pen from his belts and pouches, Xavarian adds, as though not rearranging himself at all, "I was wondering as well, for it sounds you are not looking for trouble, yet dressed as you are.." A small gesture with his now pen-hand. Â "... are you searching for something out here?"

By now the book has been opened, pages flipped, and the Elezen holds the book close to his face to scribble something down, angling his position to best block the sun from vision, yet still have some view of those he's talking to.

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 03:03 PM**

Chachanji glanced back and forth between the two taller gentlemen, feeling a bit of a crick in his neck doing so. He absorbed the questions from the both of them, taking on a thoughtful expression as he figured out how to answer. Ultimately, though, he figured being truthful to be the best choice and echoed that with a bit of an overly dramatic sigh.

"I s'pose ya have the right of it," he responded, folding his arms over his tiny chest and tilting his head to one side. "Thanks ta Papa's teachin's, I could tell ya all about how ta temper yerself a blade, but by the Builder could I not tell someone how ta swing one."

The Lalafell let out a little frustrated harrumph, looking out onto the savannah.

"It all sounds so simple, too! Just woosh-woosh!" He emphasized his onomatopoeia with a couple sharp motions of his hand. "But once the baddy's bearin' down on me... I just lose all me wits, y'know?"

The hand that had just stood in as a prop for a sword now swirled about idly, elbow resting neatly in the cupped form of Chacha's other hand. It quickly dropped back down again to rest over the other arm, and Chachanji's naturally dour-looking face darkened a bit more.

"But I wanna be a hero!" he exclaimed with a little upset stomp of his foot, kicking up a small cloud of loose dirt and debris. "I wanna protect people! How am I 'sposta do that if I can't even take on a stupid ol' bug?"

Gran, on the other hand, was a lot less involved in musings on the future. Instead, he was dealing with the fact that Victory's sudden nudge had almost toppled the puny purple porker over. He danced sideways a couple steps before regaining his balance and turning to face the much larger chocobo. His tail whipped about wildly as he gave an upset little snort - as if daring the bird to try that again.

Warren Castille · **11-17-2014, 03:16 PM**

Warren shot a brief look over at his chocobo and patted the creature on the side. In return, the bird looked up to his master and then back to the curious pint-sized beast in front of him and gave a little cooing noise from his throat. It seemed some sort of play was in order after all.

"A hero, hm?" Warren made a big show of looking thoughtful, running one armored finger under his chin and scratching idly at his mostly-there beard. "I know what you mean about wanting to protect people. That's what got me invested in this career, and I've never been happier with the result. Knowing you helped someone out of a problem is a great feeling, and it does a lot of good for the world to boot. If you ask me, though, you're utilizing the wrong arm for protecting." Warren made a demonstration with his hand, though slower, in a manner similar to the one the lalafell demonstrated. The chopping motion of his sword arm was a fair degree more refined but it was hard to tell it as anything but.

"You don't protect people with the pointy bits. That's what the shield is for." He slung the article from his back and slid if familiarly onto his arm, holding it up and dropping into a practiced stance. Made for a highlander, the surface of the shield was nearly enough for the lalafell to hide bodily behind. "If you're looking to protect people, you'll want to know how to keep this between the folks behind you and the danger ahead of you. The sword's just there to keep folks away."

The paladin eased back into a comfortable stance and stuck his sword back on his belt. He realized he was offering unsolicited advice, but he remembered his time lurking in the gladiator's guild and trying to soak up all of the knowledge he could. Maybe he'd have a chance to pay some of that forward.

Dasair · **11-17-2014, 03:21 PM**

"A hero, hm..~?" Â Xavarian couldn't help a snicker then, almost echoing the Hyur by chance, though noting the smallfolk's constant struggle to look them in the face, Xavarian kicked a small rock to the side and sat himself down in the dust. Â Writing is easier sitting anyhow.

With a clearing of his throat, and a slight chill to the air, he continued as the chocobo nearby him followed suit to take a small rest while watching the group.

"Well, you've a number of options, though I suppose experience might be the best of them. Â I can go on about how" Â a gesture, pen still in hand, "a 'hero' to one can be any number of things, by any number of deeds, and 'protection' being just the same. Â Much as this man here has said~" Â A gesture to Warren. Â "And that such a distinction might be found in other ways beyond, ah-" Â another flick of his hand. Â "cutting up bugs. Â But~"

And here comes the slightly mischievous grin.

"If you want to cut up bugs and otherwise, yet find them, or anything else for that matter, overwhelming, I'd say best to have a strategy~ Â One that allows for you to get away with minimal scathing would be best. Â Or not, I suppose, if you want scathing. Â ... Some prefer the 'tough look'~" Â A light snicker comes from the Elezen, recalling a certain instance from not long before. Â "Did you have one here, might I ask? Â I mean, it seems you found one by the time it was needed, but prior to that."

Gegenji · **11-17-2014, 03:44 PM**

"Oh, I know how shields are 'sposta to work; Papa always hammered into me to keep the 'purpose o' the piece' in mind when crafting." Chacha paused briefly to giggle at using the world "hammered" in that context. "It's just... usin' 'em - both shield 'n blade - and knowin' what ta do when the baddy's bearin' down on ya... that's where I'm havin' trouble."

He folded his arms over his chest again, staring down thoughtfully at the ground.Â Xavarian's words washed over him and directed his inner thoughts some. Little Chachanji tried to do all sorts of heroic things - Momodi herself could attest to all the odds and ends he had done around Ul'dah as an adventurer. Carried groceries, checked on purchases, kept watch over stalls in the market so the seller could get a bite to eat. He just liked helping people out!

It was just... heroes are supposed to have strength of arm, too, weren't they? Fighting off mighty beasts and protecting those that can't protect themselves. That's what Chachanji wanted to do - forging arms and armor the Gegenji way and then using them to help others, rather than just sell them like his parents seemed so content to do. Just thinking back to that initial argument with his father was getting the little Lalafell a bit grumpy, but that evaporated when Xavarian questioned his approach to the battle.

"Oh, uh, y'mean with that mean ol' bug?" he questioned, looking up at the sitting Duskwight and inwardly grateful the guy was closer to his eye level now. "I just kinda charged right in, sword swingin'." Again his arm stood in for the blade sheathed at his hip. "That's how the heroes do it, right?"

He looked up at Warren, curious for his input.

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