Bulletin Board

[Jancis]

Jancis looked over the humorous mask as she undressed.

 

So that is what a masquerade was like. 

 

It was crowded beyond capacity for the cottage, full of life and festivities, like a majestic multi-colored forest of the trees only seen in dreams.

 

It was truly incredible.

 

The crowd made a sea of noise, happy chatter, and the house was as warm and inviting as she had remembered; even if the nooks and crannies had been changed for the sake of guests. Over the waves of conversations, Jancis heard a familiar voice, the hacked up words and tone undeniable. Turning her head and looking through the crowd, she politely as possible tried to make her way towards where it came from, only to find herself dragged away in the current of people the wrong direction.

 

Still, usually the flow made her run into familiar faces. She had been a behemoth and skipped about the sidewalk as a mighty stead to the Meligobo. She had recited a poem that Lady Reinette did encourage her to share. A mysterious enchanter lord was there with dark pet coeurl. The ocean visited, claiming to be a gallizionaire (whatever that may be) before running himself into the actual ocean. The horse bird and partner horse lady. The other behemoth, which looked far more exquisite. The skirted Flame with brilliant and long blonde hair. Not to mention the men in fancy suits and masks tried to drown her further in compliments. 

 

So many costumes; how strange it was that the masks let people feel more free and unveiled.

 

But now she sat in her room, full from the dinner where many friends sat and gabbed on about the night. Now a comforting sound of snoring came from the other side of the partition in the room.  Sword had said she did not deserve to wear a mask; she was better without. He didn't know how much those words struck at her; how she had been told them once before. It was a loving and endearing comment.

 

Jancis was truly not alone and it was heartening. She thought about her fortune, vast as it was, and how there was one who did not have the same. Sir Vashyr, out on his own trek, completing whatever he vowed himself to do Turns ago. 

 

He deserved better than to be alone.

[Kage]

The little lalafell dragaged his pack out, a set look on his face. He growled as he took a sign and hammered it onto the placard.

 

"House for repossesion. Previous owner is vacating the premises. All others to leave or take up ownership and debts."

[Delilah Scythewood]

Lili crawled into bed and, for once, slept peacefully. She didn't wake up, didn't toss and turn, didn't call out for anyone in the night. Simply...slept. It wasn't until morning that she realized how long it had been since she got a good night's sleep.

 

Upon waking, she found that she actually had energy for once. Energy enough to go for a walk while dew was still on the ground. While walking through one of the various wards, she came upon a house that was in need of new owners. With hands in the pocket of her coat she studied the property with a roll of her shoulders.

 

Realizing she might know someone in need of such a place, she turned on her heel and lazily made her way back home.

[Berrod Armstrong]

 

 

 

 

The Solar Plexus. It is will. It is ambition. It is drive. The font of man's conscious and subconscious will, the Solar plexus responds to the need to assert oneself. It will always answer to one who knows what one wants, and is prepared to do what it takes to get it. Lightning is the element with which it strikes, and it is potent indeed.

 

Situated just below the chest, it is at an ideal location for power to flow to all parts of the body evenly when called upon. It holds the strongest connection to the self, and anchors all other chakras to who one is. Similarly, it imposes one's will upon all other open chakras, so that one with an open Solar Plexus finds oneself in better conscious control of whichever others one has opened. 

 

Given its base in one's will, its power is drawn directly from the spirit, augmented with a lightning aspect that can be used throughout the body. The stronger one's will, the more powerful the aether, and the more powerful the augmentation. At the basic level it grants a heightened state whereby which one's limbs are activated into quickness and strength. The longer one remains in this state, the stronger it becomes. The strong willed who practice the art of Pugilism may experience a less potent form of this. A master of this chakra may call lightning itself to wreath about his form, putting it to quick and destructive use. 

 

Yellow is its color, and so does it mix with the red of the Root to form the orange of the Sacral. Upward does it also flow to mix into the chakra above it, for without will, the Heart is nothing. Wherever there is a need, there is a want, and wherever there is a want, there is will. Whenever there is a will, the Solar Plexus will serve.

 

Thus wrote Berrod Armstrong, Son of the Fist, regarding the third chakra.

 

 

The First Chakra

The Second Chakra

The Fourth Chakra

The Fifth Chakra

The Sixth Chakra

Grasping the Chakras

Monkhood and Balance

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Franz made his way from the Airship Landing Station down into the hustle and bustle of Ul’dah. Even though  the morning had just begun, one could already see merchants setting up shop, selling goods, and maybe trying to make an extra coin or fifty. It was hectic, but it had been what he called a temporary ‘home’ for the last few moons. As he walked through the city, he wondered who he might encounter on his way to the Goblet.

 

It was a strange feeling, as if all of the people he had known were simply hiding. Not a single familiar face had been seen. Nor had any voices been heard. Even more odd was coming back to a home only to see a sign posted, saying it would be up for sale or repossession. Kage had abandoned his house.

 

Franz grumbled a little, looking at the sign. “The little shite couldn’t have at least told us personally?”

 

He wouldn’t wonder when it had occurred or whether anyone else knew. They were nearly as much strangers to him as he was to them. He hadn’t seen Honzo in ages, Iron Sea was in Limsa Lominsa, and Natalie was dead. And Franz would not be taking legal ownership of something he couldn’t even legally buy.

 

“It would appear I am without a home once again.” The words stung a little, but he’d managed. He would need to manage.

 

He hadn’t returned to the house more than a handful of times himself, due to the feeling in it after everything had happened. In a way, perhaps the Garlean was happy to have seen Kage give up. Leave. Run away. Act like expected. Franz had already made his resolve by the time he had opened the door to the house. It wasn’t -his- home, and he felt he had overstayed his welcome. So what was another person leaving then? He had plenty of gil to find somewhere else if wanted, and there was always the key to a room at the Mizzenmast inn that Jancis had lent to him.

 

“Might as well pack my belongings and leave something for the others.” The was a sad smile. Likely, anyone who remained in the house would have returned to collect their belongings by the time the house was either transferred to their ownership, or given back to the markets.

 

Looking at the few items that mattered, he cleared all personal effects from his room: his clothing, some tools he had used for various crafts, Frhanz’s tools, a collection of various tomes in various languages he had not yet attempted to read. And then he saw it. The mask. THe same one he’d worn just a few suns prior at a lively event. It’s worn red hues looked the same as the first day he could remember in Eorzea. The inscription carved upon its backside in the ever familiar Garlean script. It was no wonder he had felt odd at the  event. THe he had initially brought had been assumed to just be a simple red mask. But this one. This mask. This was the one he used in darker times. Days that blended together. Endless nightmare.

 

The mask he wore as an Unnamed Mercenary.

 

“Hadn’t I lost this on that day?” he wondered out loud, holding the mask again, a feeling of dread. He had pushed those feelings away. Or rather, had begun to feel at the mask's removal. It was not a time he’d want to return to. The one possession he came to Eorzea with would be left in the house. There was no reason for it.

 

As he finished packing what he could carry, he decided he would leave the well-crafted furnishing behind. After all, it could always be used by another to offset a cost, or to drive up the value of the house. And where would he store it anyways? It didn’t take long to gather everything into something suitable to transport. He quietly closed the door to the room, removing the nameplate affixed to the door.

 

“It’s not -my- room any more than the others.”

 

Returning to the main room from the hallway of personal rooms, he left the mask on the living room table and took out some parchment and a quill to write with. Inscribed in proper penmanship, was the letter he would leave informing the remaining members of the house.

 

 

 

To the members of this house, whoever remains, I would want to first give my apologies for the departure with only this as notice. As you’ve assuredly seen, abandonment is imminent.

 

Perhaps I’ll see some of you around the Ul’dah, the next time I decide to visit. Or perhaps you’ll find me elsewhere, and our paths will cross again. Regardless of whether each happen, may you find a home in which you can feel you belong. This is no longer the one for me.

 

Right now, I think some time away from it will aid in coping with recent events. Or perhaps you’ll find me elsewhere. I’ve since taken some extended stay in Limsa Lominsa.

 

May all of you find the path on which you wish to live your lives.

 

-Franz

 

 

Holding the short letter down was a small plate a bittersweet cookies. Only half the sugar was used, and the chocolate unsweetened. A small indicator of his feelings while leaving, but a final gift to the house nonetheless. Not far from either was the mask. He no longer cared if the people there found it. Maybe one would seek him out instead.

 

With that, he left the three items on the main room’s center table by the couches and closed the main door behind him. The house, guarded by its imaginary dangers by the multiple cannons Kage and Natalie had purchased continued to point in their previous positions. Franz couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Still a waste money, if I ever saw them.”. He began to walk towards Ul’dah to catch the first airship he could.

 

edit/update:

((I should note, that the mask is just your ordinary, Eorzean, Ash Mask, dyed a lovely shade of Dalamud Red. The only Garlean indicator of it is the text incribed on the backside. If worn, one would never know.))

 

 

((And think of the cookies as almost like crackers or biscuits with bittersweet chocolate. Certainly not...sweet, but more bland than bitter.))

[Jana]

Finally free to roam the halls of "her" house once more, Jana came upon a plate of cookies on a table, a small mask, and a note. "Isn't this a Garlean mask...?" she muttered to herself as the Keeper took a cookie off of the plate without reading the note and popped it into her mouth. This was immediately followed by coughing and hacking, and a half-chewed cookie sailing across the room. Ugh- Who made this cookie so bitter? Is this supposed to be a prank!?

 

Two seconds passed before she guiltily retrieved the soggy cookie to be properly disposed of, though Jana made no effort to get rid of the plate as she left for the city.

[Jancis]

((Something a tad silly and maybe a little powerful! Evoke the inner anime heroine!))

 

Jancis stood there at the threshold to the Mist cottage. The outside was humble, the grass raked and filled in where it had died save for one corner, and the walls were showing wear an tear.

 

"I guess we are a couple of fools, then."

 

A smile and a soft voice by her ear echoed in her mind. The door was unlocked and Jancis let herself in. "Z'enath?" her inquires went without answer, clearly the man was out for the day.

 

"Am I foolish, Jancis?"

 

The cottage was pretty much the same on the inside, old and worn. Abandoned for a couple years and lost its luster. It has been swept and it was clear where repairs had been made, but a proper washing of the house and furniture hadn't happened.

 

Pursing her lips up in thought, she turned her gaze towards the northeast, towards Ul'dah imaging the desert and even on to the snowy wastes beyond.

 

She saw what was gone to her, what she knew could exist. There was something else in addition to seeing a loving couple courting and other unions. She truly understood how valuable they were. 

Beyond any book she had read, any notes taken, any words spoken, she felt that undying connection through her bones and body, tinges on thoughts. Jancis clutched her robe at the top, grabbing at the necklace underneath and stood there. 

 

The house was tidied but it wasn't clean, the old dust and mildew still lingered.

 

"I am considering you."

 

Jancis began to drag the furniture outside into the yard, what little there was, cabinets and drawers and all. The upstairs now empty, Jancis stood in the middle of the room with her wand, focused and sharp.

 

Though it was semi-training in a sense, Jancis did more than call upon the elements' aid, she practically commanded it. Water poured into the house, whipping across the walls like a frenzied spin cycle, its clear streams muddying. It flew around her feet and spun about the ceiling, dripping down like a cleansing storm. The water forced its way out, funneling to the grass outside with its dirt and grime.

 

"How would you feel if I was gone?"

 

Next, winds picked up, Jancis focusing much of her ambition on the task of drying out the now clean room. Her hair was a slave to the air's whimsy, whipping back and forth, to and fro, until the conjurer had exhausted herself with the session and sat down on the floor.

 

"I have a proposal for you."

 

Smiling to herself on the wooden floor, she felt better. At the very least, she could renew this home for Z'enath, a fresh start to a life he truly deserved and worked hard for. Then he could find what she had lost. 

 

Finishing up and locking the door. Jancis left the cottage for her Still Shore home.

[Whittledown]

Six gil was what it cost Maudit for a half-loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese the size of his fist. It would do. He sat down on one of Ul'dahs many low stone benches and watched the people pass. So many. More than he'd ever imagined really. All different types too. He found himself distracted from his meager meal as the whole of the city's population seemed to file past him.

 

A clatter nearby drew his attention and he looked to the side to see a pair of children, one miqo'te and one hyuran, sitting on the bench next to him. Each held a roughly hewn wooden bowl in their hands. They kept their eyes low and their arms up, dirty hands offering their bowls to the air. Maudit watched as the citizenry of Ul'dah walked past the children and their empty bowls.

 

Quietly Maudit began to evaluate the passers-by as they drew near. He was attempting to guess whether they would drop a coin into the bowls based on their clothing, their bearing, the look on their faces. He found he was wrong more than he was right. It began to strike him as absurd how little coin the children had gained. They were clearly homeless and likely desperately in need of food.

 

Ah, excellent. Here are some that will help them. Thought Maudit as a young woman, apparently in the garb of a Sultansworn, drew near. She was followed closely behind by two people dressed in the finest clothes. Gems glittered on fingers and dangled from their ears. Maudit found himself smiling slightly, certain that the Sworn and the well-to-do followers would see the children and assist.

 

And then they were gone. All three. Maudit was stunned. He looked to the children and noted that their posture had not changed in the slightest. That they had been walked past was nothing to them. He frowned and moved closer, tearing his bread in half and breaking his cheese as well. He placed roughly half in each bowl.

 

"It's like they don't even see our bowls..." Said the miqo'te child as he looked down at the food.

 

Maudit watched the pair for a moment as they began to eat, then he turned and walked down the lane. His expression clouded over and his mind with it.

 

"It's like they don't even see our bowls..." He repeated the child's words to himself. There was something there. Something important. He simply had to find it...

[Ha'uruh Nunh]

The door to the Duskbreak opened, not so late that Howl was completely asleep, but not so early that he hadn't been dozing.  His mind snapped awake then, but he held himself completely still, the slight motion of his ears pricking up against the pillow the only sign that he was no longer sleeping.

 

He could hear her walking across the main room upstairs, slowly, then down the stairs to the basement.  He fancied he could see through her right eye the darkened shapes of the beds that ringed the room, the sleeping forms of the men within them; he sensed rather than saw her drift across the room, her body bending over Warren's, and had he not been Miqo'te, he never would've caught the murmur, intended for Warren's ears alone.

 

"Well done."

 

A ghostly chuckle, and she made her way out of the ring of beds, probably to change and bathe.  Howl felt his face burn like fire against the pillow, praying with all of his might to the Twelve that neither had noticed he was awake.

[Delilah Scythewood]

Some say that when one goes against the grain of their morals, it tends to haunt their dreams.

 

For the third night in a row, Lili's eyes fluttered open to peer up at the ceiling. It was silent in her room save for the occasional drip of her newly installed showerhead in the corner. She couldn't even hear anything down and around the halls or coming from the front room. Was it still so late? Or just obscenely early?

 

Her newly dyed hair hung over her eyes, making her view the world through the messy strands. As she rubbed at her face, she moved to try and roll over and yank her pillow over her head. This was going to be worth it. She was saving his life.

 

So why was her conscience telling her to cease?

[Kage]

The lalafell combed his hair as he looked into the mirror. The blue and red hues. Strange but apparently not too rare. After all, many of his family had the coloration. He adjusted his suit's collar and the cuffs around his wrist. Making sure that there weren't any knots or wrinkles as he checked his ear cuffs and rings on his fingers.

 

What was it he had told Xiao? The most interesting Miqo'te adventurer he'd met? Ah yes, in order to present a good front for his fledgling company of mercenaries, he had to look like a respectable and presentable owner and employee. He thumbed the hidden knives before re-adjusting his clothing once more.

 

Kage chuckled as he remembered Xiao. The lalafell had a great time meeting people while sitting on his railing. Still, he seemed to attract many a Miqo'te and some Lalafell while he was at it. Never one like Xiao however. Her own hair matched his own. Perhaps they were related in a past life as she'd said.

 

Or not.

 

He shook his head as he walked out of his new home and headquarters. The memories of the old one... long gone was the hurt and heartache. He'd found a new place and he was setting up to make gil over fist now.

[Jancis]

Jancis had packed up a change of clothes and food including a bottle of wine and one of the few remaining cheesecakes that Lady Edda had provided to the Still Shore.

 

It was rolanberry and only Thaliak knew how one survived the voracious appetites of the others in the company. It was full night, the clouds breaking up after pouring down a fierce some rainstorm down on the Mist.

 

She was glad to be feeling enough to leave, to return and see the bright shining city that was Ul'dah.

 

Her arms had small sore spots inside of her elbow and she made sure not to carry the travel bag on the tender skin.

 

Out in the dark crisp night, Jancis looked up at the sky taking in a deep calming breath. So much had happened in the past couple suns. Some of it was confusing, but Thaliak always found a way to bring clarity and she knew what she had to do.

[Conchris]

Growing up is hard, and it is of no exception to William, the miqo'te who had to bear some responsibilities when they, him and his beloved, had moved from a room in the Mizzenmast to a room in the Roost a moon or so ago.

 

He'd been attempting to keep his pockets full by picking up odd jobs from the Carline Canopy, jobs that do not require violence to resolve conflict, fishing too. He had often been busy, to the point where he'd gone on autopilot.

 

And now, it's getting trickier to find jobs that pay and, not only that, he hadn't been keeping in touch with those he'd consider friends. He'd thought he would be able to break free from his shell but his current life decisions have only withdrawn him once more.

 

But, then again, he may have gotten complacent, too used to his now-sedate lifestyle that the carbuncle had been wandering off on him, as though trying to tell him something in its own weird little way.

 

Perhaps it could be right, if he read its intentions correctly, they hadn't been exploring as of recently, not recently, no, and he still has some things to do.

 

Yes, he does, as he scratches out plans for a ball capable of floating in water, all that's left is to find someone who could do it, make one, that is. That'll be a start.

[Kage]

The lalafell strolled towards the Quicksand, intent on getting a small nice shot of alcohol before going about his fine business today, when his nice shoes hit a small crack in the cobblestones and he flew into the air as he tripped. There were no broken bones but there were definitely sounds of a muffled splash and giggles as Kage had just so happened to trip over himself into a puddle of mud in one of the busiest streets of Ul'dah.

 

Kage grumbled and sighed, realizing that he couldn't go about his business as planned and decided that he would just take another day of relaxation at the Quicksand and eat some peanuts.

 

Seeing that Aya wasn't there, Kage hesitated before making sure he wasn't going to get any of the chairs or stools dirty. He parked himself at the counter and happily noted something he hadn't before. Not only were there peanuts but there were honey-roasted peanuts.

 

Kage happily ordered the honey roasted peanuts even though he still carried a small pouch of them on his person as well as a tankard of sweet water. He could not deny giving the Quicksand his gil, especially when it seemed like they had started to serve the wonderful teat that Kage had once passed around.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

A sharp pain in his head. Blood and ink spilled around the room. Tense relationships and perhaps even more tense feelings.

 

These were the thoughts that had pulsed through Franz's head before he passed out onto his now-ruined couch. But sleep brought no reprise. Rather, his dreams seemed to only further suffocate him.

 

The first dream of the night had appeared so benign in the beginning. He was sitting in a room holding a small child. Her mother resting on a bed, clearly exhausted from the day that had played out. Holding the baby had brought him such joy for some reason. But when he looked down at his arms to see the face of the child, she was gone. Panic had spread over his face. Where was she? Was she safe? How could he not have paid better attention? As he looked around, he found the child, held in the arms of her mother. But every step he took, they seemed to get further and further away. There was a feeling as if he had called out their names, but nothing came to find.

 

In the second dream, he was surrounded by the people who had once hired him as a mercenary. They had all looked as he'd remembered them. Nearly all of them dressed lavishly. Staring at him. Calling him scum. There was a feeling of hunger, and he noticed he was dressed in rags, standing at the streets of Ul'dah. They were throwing gil at him, but rather that catch them, the coins simply burst into flames upon hitting him. Eventually, there were some many coins he was engulfed in flames.

 

In the third and final dream, he saw his wife, Lydia. A warm smile on her face as he walked closer. More than anything, he simply wished to embrace her. Hug. Kiss. Know that the two of them had found each other again and that everything would be fine. But the nearer he approached, the most twisted her smile became. Mere ilms from her, he reached out a hand to feel a sharp pain in his side. The woman by him no longer looked like his wife, but instead, had taken the form of a younger girl. Blonde hair had been carefully managed, a simple, yet elegant outfit worn. In his side, he saw a dagger that she stabbed him with. "Vile cretin! How dare you think of finding happiness in these lands. All you deserve is to suffer!" A wicked smile on her face as he tried to remove the blade. But he could not. The metal burned in his hand. "Don't you dare touch things that are not yours!" The woman simply screamed louder as he gripped the blade tiger and pulled it out.

 

But before anything else could continue, Franz was jolted awake with a sudden thud as he fell from the couch. He awoke back in his room, a dull pain in one of his eyes still. His back to the floor, he pulled himself up to reassess the damage the room had endured. An ink bottle had be thrown and its contents had splattered over him and the couch. On the couch itself and the floor nearby, a small trail of blood led across the room and to the door. Likely, some combination of his own and Edda's. He would have to scrub the floors with bleach to remove the stains, but would be doable. Lastly, he saw the now damaged gemscope on the floor. Rather than even try to repair it, he would just replace the device with a new one. Inside a cabinet in his room, he kept a few cleaning supplies for general upkeep.

 

Taking out a scrubber and cleaning fluid, he began to wipe up the flooring and return it to its former color. He made no effort while cleaning the room to protect the clothing he wore. The sollerets would need to be carefully cleaned and shined, the gloves could be easily replaced, and the tabbard was ruined. A shame really. It had been his favorite. Likely, even if he got the blood and ink out, the material would never be the same. He carefully took it off and folded it as neatly as possible, trying to hide as much of the stain as possible. With the room looking as if the fight had never taken place, Franz made sure he had properly reapplied the glamor and makes his way to one of the baths in the Still Shore. As he filled one of the tubs with near-scalding water and entered, he watched as the once-clear water because murky with blood and ink. An entire bell may have passed by the time he'd emerged, free of ink, redressed in clean clothes and wounds dressed.

 

But it was over now. He'd cleaned the room and would replace the damage furniture, he'd cleaned himself, and nobody would ever recognize the injuries. After the nightmare of a dream he'd had before the night had ended and now thoroughly exhausted, he promptly fell asleep on his bed as if it were any other night. There was no more worry of having to deal with a certain midlander -girl- with a temper.

 

edit: Oh god...notified of a beautiful typo. "held in the arms of her money" -> "held in the arms of her mother"

[Shael]

"The shite you say!"

 

Shaelen Stormchild paused in her task, lowering the wrench from the cable hose she had been working on. She pushed off the pipes, the wheels of the plank she was laying on whizzing against the wooden floorboards as she slid back out from under the engine.

 

The giant figure of a Roegadyn sat on the ground nearby cross-legged, one hand holding out a cable driver. He wore a wry expression with one eye cocked at her, a chiding look Shael saw rather often when he regarded her.

 

"You sure?" Shael tried to escape judgement but knew her attempt was weak at best.

 

Thaliak's Axe (affectionately called "Shooey" by her and her alone) answered with a grumbling growl that rumbled in the back of his throat. He handed her a cable driver and she exchanged it with the wrench in her hand.

 

"A cycle ago, you say. Drowning Wench. Huh." Shael wiped the tip of her nose with the back of her hand, not caring that it would leave an greasy smudge there. She knew her cheeks were riddled with them already, and probably patterned all slick and splat-fancy, right along with her freckles. "Well hells, Shooey. That could be any night. How'm I supposed to remember this particular one?" She waved the driver in her hand. "It must've been a good night! I don't remember shite! Must’ve been some good rum. Did I win?" She didn't give him a chance to answer, grinning broadly. "Well 'course I won. I would remember losing." She spun the tool deftly in her fingers, curious. "So what'd I win?"

 

The Roegadyn let out a murmur, gesturing towards her belt with the wrench.

 

Shaelen glanced down then brightened immediately. "Ah! The timepiece!" She did not reach for the Garlean timepiece tucked into her pocket, a silver chain hanging from it to her belt. Unlike her face or any part of her, she wanted to keep that little glimmering hunk'a silver clean and pristine. She narrowed her eyes slowly in thought.

 

"You know, I think it's coming back to me," she declared with a nod, a playful smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. She flicked a look at Axe as if to sense his disapproval. She pushed off with her feet and slid back under the power generator, escaping the Roegadyn's glare.

 

"What are you mad about? I won the soddin' game, didn’t I?" She grabbed the loose cable hose again, twisting one end and working it in with the driver to fix it to the inset. She heard a displeased howl rise from her first mate.

 

"Oh I would never put up Jolene unless it was a sure win," she tried to reassure her companion. Shael's gunblade was her pride and joy, aside from her ship, Peregrine. She would never risk losing Jolene, no matter how drunk she must have gotten.

 

Axe did not seem convinced. He groused and grumbled some more.

 

"Aw, quit'cher bellyaching. The way you go on, you'd think Jolene was paying you, not me." Shael snorted, testing the fit of the cable. "Besides, this timepiece is a nice one. He wouldn't have put it up without a worthwhile temptation." Satisfied with the secured hose, she slid back out again.

 

Shooey already had a separator in hand, holding it out for her. She snatched it up, handing him the cable driver. She shrugged at the Roegadyn, flashing a toothy smile. "Besides, he was easy on the eyes. Don't'cha think?"

 

She was answered with another rumble, clearly disapproving. Shael rolled her eyes dramatically. "Whaddaya mean don't trust him? Of course I don't trust him! He's a pirate! And a smuggler! Like us! Would you trust us?"

 

The Roegadyn stared back at her pointedly, the corner of his fuzz-covered lips tugged downward forlornly. Shael rolled her eyes again (she did that a lot) and made circles in the air with the tool in her hand. "I mean other than you and me, obviously." She watched the Roegadyn relax visibly before she continued. "Besides, if what Ro said was true, he's worth a choco's weight in gil. And he wants a steady supply. We keep the steel and core flowing his way, he keeps the gil flowing our way ..." She licked her lips. "We can use a job like this."

 

When Axe grumbled again, Shael whirled her head around in a circle exasperatedly. "I don't know, Shooey! Maybe he was just as drunk as I was! Or he sleeps with a different girl every night! I didn't recognize him, why should he remember me?" She paused for a moment, then made another circle in the air again with the metal rod. "Okay yeah, not remembering me is a little suspicious …”

 

Shael shot the Roegadyn a look from the corner of her eyes, trying to see if that would lighten his mood. The large male chuckled hoarsely, his massive shoulders bouncing up and down.

 

“Guess I'll have to remind him again, eh?” She winked, then grabbed the edge of the engine to slide back under when Axe rumbled again.

 

“Ro? And the pirate? HA! I can’t see him as her type.” Shael let out a loud snort. “Paladins like her prefer the gallant knight in shining armor.” She scratched her head with the metal tool in hand. “Although … she did introduce us …”

 

“Eh!” She shrugged back to Axe. “I ain't saying it’s gonna happen again, but … if it happens again … you’d think she’d mind? Lazarov is one good looking man ...” Shael did not give the Roegadyn a chance to answer. “Naaah.” She snorted a chuckle as she slid back under the generator. "I am sure she'd be fine with it."

[ZindelloTarantella]

"So, let me make sure I have this right, sir." The tone was very tense and not a little sarcastic. More so then was probably needed given the situation. Of course, it was to be expected; it wasn't often one walked up to a complete stranger (in a manner) and asked them to tell you about a group of people in what was more or less a Free Company that was relatively private. "You want to know about the Free Company Crooked Tarot is working with right now? Why? You owe him money?"

 

"Not quite," the stranger replied with a shrug of his shoulders. He had nice full shoulders; a handsome face that was set with a look of trained discipline--enough years to know what he was doingf but not enough years to look terribly old. He had to be brushing thirty, but his bearing made him seem a bit older. He didn't stand out much from other adventurers. A long rapier on his belt, two daggers--the usual. His dignity and bearing marked him as maybe someone who had military experience? That was possible, the blacksmith thought as he regarded the stranger.

 

"You got a deathwish then? Cause trifling with Crooked Tarot when you're not wanted is a financial deathwish--hell, trifling with him WHEN you're wanted is a financial deathwish!"

 

"This is less a matter of debt or business and simply a friendly visit. I am only passing through Ul'dah and would like to see who he is working with at the moment. That is all. I was told you have regular business meetings with him and so, here I am."

 

The man ran a hand through his shortly-cropped hair, the sandy brown catching hints of faded gold in the bright sunlight of the city in the desert. There was only the vaguest signs f sweat on his brow; the man wasn't quite used to this weather yet.

 

"Well, if you're that insistent, then he's working with some group of arses called the 'Astral Agents'. Have a house out in the Goblet. Got a buncha training dummies out front, near the edge of the goblet on the canyon side. You can't miss it."

 

The blacksmith had to wonder why Tarot, a man with all that money, would slum it in a tiny house like that, rather than dipping in with one of the more massive houses that were literally right down the street. Eh, maybe his reputation preceeded him--Hells knew that it did in nearly every other city.

 

"Thank you for your time," the stranger bowed, his hand resting comfortably on his rapier. "You are a credit to this city and its ability to inform."

 

"Why does that not sound like a compliment...?" the blacksmith muttered as he watched the stranger depart, the man's gait as practiced as disciplined as the rest of him--no energy wasted with THAT walk, that was certain.

 

"Gods I need to stop talking to strangers..." the man added before returning to his work.

[Jancis]

Jancis prepared for the night in her room, removing the heavy robes she had dressed in. They had been not needed, but the cloak she had brought proved to be useful as a makeshift sheath.

 

Unwrapping the cloak, Jancis hefted the sword. It wasn't the easily blade to manage, for her at least, and for the most part it was clean. She should take more care of it. A whetstone would be over the top for the circumstance; Jancis doubted it would be used soon. But to make sure it was utterly clean and oiled would be ideal.

 

She didn't own much for metal tools and having oil wasn't something to keep in her space. Getting up, she went over to Iron's wardrobe and dug through it. Sure enough, he had some for his armor. It would do.

 

Sitting on her bed cross-legged, she cleaned and polished the blade. She couldn't sleep yet. It was a dark night, the fog upon the shore clearly a show of comfort and protection from the elements themselves. The Twelve were close.

 

She would have to return and check upon Sir Glacier and return his sword. The chaos of the house might fade with time; but Jancis was concerned if wounds would be tended to. Wounds that were not from blade or club.

 

Most of the night until she fell asleep, she cared for the blade. Next to her a book of words and poems.

 

[align=center]You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.[/align]

[Kellach Woods]

Docked and resupplying for the next stage in their trip, the crew of the Trader's Delight had no time to spare for their extra passenger that had asked, and paid for, a ride to this backwater town, merely a spot to pick up some specific items on the way to the Far East. Still, he smiled and warmly waved off the crew once they had finished their loading and resupplying. It would have been rude not to.

 

Kellach had finally returned. As he expected, nothing had changed in the hamlet's harbor. Even if he wasn't wearing as much lip paint and powder, his hair had grown so long and sultry that scarcely anyone recognized him. Granted, he hadn't been seen in town for months, and he'd spent more time working on the farm than in the actual town. Still, he'd drop by the merchant's stall, needing a few things for a proper visit to his father's Tree, as required by the rites that their people followed.

 

Growing up, he always saw the road separating the farm from the town as a long and arduous trek. These days, it was merely the matter of walking for an hour, and with all of his adventures lately, he'd grown into someone who would find this walk child's play. He began the last stretch of his temporary return, the sea breeze soon replaced by an in-land wind that he welcomed with a smile. Wind loved smiles, it seemed, as his hair was gently caressed by the breeze.

 

When his childhood home came into view, he was astonished by how it hadn't changed much, just showing minor signs of maintenance not met. Einrich had to do this all on his own, after all. He sighed - he'd hoped that his mother would have finished grieving, but it seemed not so. After all, she was the most skilled carpenter in the family, and would never leave the fences in such a state.

 

Kellach took the time to appreciate a scenery he'd not seen in months - The cows slowly eating grass, the sheep doing the same a bit further. A figure afar getting the earth ready to accept the beginning of a new harvest season, and the gentle sounds of birds chattering among themselves, a few of them seeking to steal a few seeds for a change in their diet. He sighed happily, the past few months being particularly hectic.

 

Not seeing his mother in the fields, he could only surmise that she was holed up inside and thus he walked up to the door and knocked. Taking the few seconds it took for his mother to answer the door, he'd clear his throat and put on the best smile he could muster.

 

As she opened the door and realized who was standing before her, she ran into his arms for a sturdy hug and kisses on her son's cheeks. She's forgotten how long it'd been since his gentle face had been around the house. She knew why he was here, and while this was making tears well up in her eyes, the joy of seeing her son again overcame her grief for a brief moment.

 

"Hello, mother." Kellach said gently, making sure to not hug his mother too powerfully. She did not expect him to stay up with the weight she threw behind that hug, but was pleasantly surprised that he did... and that he was not even winded from that long walk!

 

"My Kell. My sweet little Kell... welcome home! Come in! Come in!" she cried out, her voice creaking under the emotion. "I can tell you've grown strong in those few months. Einrich will be glad to see you, too! I'd hoped that Karle would still be with us when you first visited, but... Let's not dwell on his death. Tonight we should celebrate... but first we need to do something about that hair! By Fire's radiant heat, you should know better than to not take care of your hair!"

 

Kellach could do nothing but comply, even if he had taken the utmost care of his hair while in Eorzea. His mother had her image of the perfect little boy, and she would get her way so long as he was there. He owed her that much.

 

Awhile later, while Kellach was sitting, exchanging little stories of his time in Eorzea to his mother while she replied of farmtales. Einrich stepped inside the house. Einrich was a comparatively short man to Kellach, though built in a much more stocky manner. His hair was disheveled somewhat, but in such a way that showed the results of hard work, rather than being unkempt from neglect.

 

"Mother, I've moved the cattle, so you should be able to work on the fences without bothering the her... By the Earth's ample bounty, is that you Kellach!? I know I said you should visit father's Tree but I never thought it'd be that fast!"

 

The family, as reunited as they could be, shared a small moment together, for mother and brother needed to work on the farm, and Kellach needed to return home, but not before offering gifts to both the living and the dead.

[Adrian]

Character: Staelufre Lysmerl

Watching: Oscare Iono

 

The basement of the Still Shore was a restful place. She enjoyed the cushioned chairs that sat in the library, and the expansive map table that told of all of Eorzea. Not even Valenor's room bothered her, despite how odd it smelled at times. No, she quite liked the quiet little place that no one but the officers seemed to remember. The books were fascinating enough to take up bells of time, while she sat in odd positions on the rugs or in the chairs. Conversation drifted down, but she primarily ignored it. People came and went. That was, until something made her ears prick. An unknown male speaking, saying, "The rancor exists. I hear their screams, the yelps of all those dead that I murdered with my own hands." Intrigued by who was speaking about murder in the common room, the miqo'te crept up the stairs and perched upon them.

 

His voice kept on, clearer now that she wasn't hidden behind bookshelves and a ceiling. "My lover bleeding within my own arms and sentence of death. The Calamity is the only reason why I'm alive. It allowed me my escape." The Calamity? And who was this unknown man trying to escape from? She leaned against the wall, letting her body go utterly still. Listening, rather than watching this time around. If he did not want everyone to know it, she felt it proper that he should speak of it in a more private place than the lounge of her free company's house.

 

Then, of all surprises, a familiar voice spoke. Solkeim, the Blessed Violet. Perhaps this should not be so shocking. Solkeim carried great love and care for the whole realm, and it would be well within her capabilities to tend to someone who sounded so torn up about their past. "War and the Calamity have torn many. The few it have not are really the outsiders. Need not carry that burden; many can handle your pain and is much easier to bear with more shoulders holding it." She did not understand, it seemed, to heed the true message of his words. But the sentiment was sweet. She was offering this stranger help with the torments he suffered. Pure, kind Solkeim. Such generosity was rare, and thus Staelufre coveted it as much as she feared it'd be taken advantage of.

 

"I don't think you understand, the Calamity wasn't what caused all those deaths. My entire cohort... I personally wiped them out, one by one." Cohort. Her ears perked. Cohort was an Imperial term. She knew of no one within Eorzea's continent to assign cohorts of troops about. This man who Solkeim cared for so was of the enemy's allegiance. A Garlean. Yet a traitor to his own kind. Did this make him safe, or only more dangerous? To have systematically destroyed one's own cohort showed a dangerous inability to feel empathy or loyalty. It made him more dangerous, in her mind. If he could not even ally himself to his own nation, what did that mean for him in a land he did not grow up in? She seethed, but remained silently sitting. It would do no good to interrupt now.

 

"To escape? To leave the duress they pushed upon you? All hate war... 'I hate as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.'... must needs not leave out why." Solkeim was seeking reason for his traitorous behavior. She wished to believe, and Staelufre's heart yearned for her friend. Do not so easily believe a man who could kill his own friends, she begged silently.

 

"I overstayed my welcome for now. I need to head back to the Agents. Stay safe, and heal nicely..." The rest he mumbled, but she caught "...thank Byregot..." before they both moved for the door. The agents? Staelufre's tail twitched, fluffed up in irritation. She could not trust this shadow of a man. Waiting many breaths, she followed out the door and walked right past them, before rounding parallel to the aqueducts and hiding beneath the wall. They said their farewells, and nothing more was caught. Staelufre couldn't resist. She popped up and asked the ever-yearning question.

 

"Who was that?"

 

"Is Oscare, fairly good hunter and something of a friend. Very lost within his own thoughts though, sadly. Is all I can do to try to lead him out of them to the confident man he once was," explained Jancis. Oscare. She had the name now, and knew who to be wary of. She'd seen his face, and his posture. If he was not silent of his heritage, Staelufre felt it only safest to warn those who could protect her home best.

[Clover]

When Clover saw Xydane again, he was as broken and worn out as his armour looked. It might have become a habit of his, losing pieces of himself in the faraway lands he’d always return from. He brought roses this time; ephemeral, fragile, and much more alive than he was.

 

“You are no longer in the battlefield,” Clover said, but neither Lilithium’s motherly food nor reading books in the warmth of a fireplace would make him forget about the weight of his armour. Then, when his eyes were filled with tears and his voice broke with tales of death, when his rough hand guided Clover’s to the scars of his cheek, she believed that perhaps she could understand a part of what she’d never fully do.

 

‘Ah… so that’s how it is…’ she’d think in the end. ‘The battlefield is you.’

[Gegenji]

This actually is a bit of a flashback, I suppose. I hope that's okay. :blush:

 

 

They had locked him away in a cage almost too small for him, squirreled away into a corner where he wouldn't be a bother. He had dealt with it all before. They didn't know if he truly was a baby behemoth or just some piglet twisted by the touch of the Void. All they knew was that he a problem - a troublemaker - and they wanted him gone. Preferably for a profit, always for a profit.

 

That's how most of his young life had been - being handed off from swindler to swindled, changing hands through the twisted road of a silvered tongue. Bumped and jostled, paraded and purchased. What few moments he had free from his confinement were used to stretch his legs, and doing so oft led to his return to his too-small prison. And, if possible, a return to the latest snake oil-seller what sold him.

 

He had traveled many malms in this manner. Moved from market to market as the locals grew wise to how much of a "troublemaker" he was, and thus made him a harder sell. So many suns had come and gone in this way that, even if he could have kept tabs somehow, he would have lost track. All he knew as a blur of bipedal forms, interspersed with a few crisp definitions of someone's face twisted in anger and horror.

 

He was never happy with it, but he had long since grown accustomed to it. Get somewhere, get handed off, stretch his legs, get crammed back into his cage. There was a methodical sameness he had grown used to, albeit unwillingly. Most of his days would be spent flopped dejectedly on the cold floor of his cage, perking up only when he was brought to the fore. After all, it was his only chance to escape his prison, if only for a little while.

 

What a surprise, then, when - in the markets of Ul'dah, amongst the bustling of the Jewel - that the baby behemoth would find freedom. A home. A name. A purpose. All in the shape of a green-haired boy with glittering violet eyes.

 

Gran opened a lazy eye, giving a sideways glance to the Lalafell who sat happily on the river rock beside him. Both were still damp from their wrestling in the water, out of breath from their play. It had happened as a kind of accident before, but now it had become a common occurrence for them - an enjoyable ritual to help them cool down after an afternoon run.

 

"C'mon, Gran!" Chachanji chimed, hopping to his feet and squeezing some of the more stubborn water from his tunic. "Time ta go home 'n eat!"

 

The baby behemoth clambered to his feet as the Lalafell sprinted across the water, pausing only to beckon to the purple porker to follow once on the other side. Calling him to give chase, to go with him, to be with him. And, as he bounded his way after his master with his tail whipping about, Gran noted - as he had found himself thinking many times since that fateful day...

 

That this wasn't so bad at all.

[Kellach Woods]

In the Tangle, the mighty Tangle, the Kellach fishes tonight. Pinchyshell at his side, trusty crab/hat that he is, trying to help its master friend capture some fish. He'd tried his hand at fishing and gotten hooked, enough so that he'd started fishing to kill time in-between adventures and just talking to others. If there was a body of water, he'd pull out his bait and tackle.

 

"Pinchyshell, I'm starting to think that we've as much luck at this fishing hole than I have in love. Which is to say, not at all."

 

Pinchyshell, smart crab that he is, gently patted Kellach's foot with its claw. The other claw kept trying to catch the tiniest fish possible. Then, it got bored, and started feasting on some plankton. Kellach himself let a sigh through before smiling. Fishing was very relaxing, and while it was all good news lately, overwhelming emotions, be they positive or negative, had a tiring effect on the midlander's psyche. He needed time to himself with his rod.

 

Without hearing anyone behind him, he could hear a slow, guttural voice come from over his shoulder. Surely a fellow adventurer, likely Roegadyn from his stature, accosted him. Pinchyshell, however, was clearly not used to such a large man, and retreated into its custom pocket. He was crabby with strangers.

 

"Fish bitin'?" he asked, very loudly. Kellach did not flinch. Anyone who'd been at the Drowning Wench in Limsa Lominsa would not flinch from such a loud voice - Sea Wolves were particularly loud when intoxicated.

 

"Not at all, friend. I've gotten a few bites of bone crayfish, but no fish to speak of." Kellach answered back. Naturally, as he says this, a strong force pulled on his rod. He immediately tried to maintain it to reel the fish in.

 

"That's a shame. Fish'd be a delicious morsel, though not as much as you." the adventurer said. Oh, flirting, were we? Kellach blushed, but still liked the compliment. Even as inexperienced as he was, he'd long come to terms with his attraction to... well, practically every single person he'd encountered. However, to be hitting on him in such an environment.

 

"Thank you, but I hardly think this is the best environment for flirtation." Kelllach answered, grunting through as the fish was ferociously fighting for survival.

 

"Oh, what I wouldn't give to wrap a tentacle around some luscious adventurers..." the voice said out loud, to no one in particular. Kellach was too busy concentrating on the fish to notice the strange word usage of the other adventurer. With one massive heave, he'd pulled out a sizable catch - an Ilsabardan Bass.

 

"Ah! Finally! Well now, why don't we both go back to the Seventh Heaven and see... where... this... takes... us..." Kellach turned around. What had talked to him was not a rugged, sexy, flirtatious Roegadyn adventurer as he had assumed.

 

It was a talking morbol.

 

Never before had Kellach ran this fast.

[Jancis]

In the towns and roads of Eorzea, more than the common merchants and simple travelers can be seen. 

 

[align=center][/align]

 

Groups of people in travelling clothes walk upon the roads and stay in the towns and cities. Some simple guards in white plain tabards without marks accompany them.

 

Temporary tents and camps are set up at night for some, others stay with friends and family in the residential areas of the cities.

 

The tone of the travelers is jovial, hopeful, and in good spirits. Songs and music can be heard from the gatherings. By-passers and onlookers are welcomed over to share in drink, particularly cider.

 

[align=center][/align]

 

"We make our way to Gridania in honor of Nophica." Most pilgrims say, though their reasons were all personal.

"I wish for blessings for my crops." "We are newly wed and wish for blessings for a strong family and children." "I want to know more about the Matron." "I've always wanted to travel and see the conjurers. This is the safest way to do so." "My mother wanted to make the trek, but she cannot so I'm going for her."

 

In La Noscea, Limsa and the Mist, the healthiest and merchant of the pilgrims still linger there. Elders of the town talk about Nophica and their own pilgrimages, encouraging the younger folks to go on their own. The docks and ferry have the last of the pilgrims making paying their way across.

 

[align=center][/align]

 

In Thanalan, Ul'dah and the Goblet, pilgrims stay with friends and relatives in their homes as the travel through. They shop and sight see the tall buildings and wares of the Jewel and share stories in the Quicksand. Upon the roads and towns workers and refugees welcome travelers and swap the news of the days and other generic troubles of life.

 

[align=center][/align]

 

[align=center]In the Shroud, Gridania and the Lavender Beds, those pilgrims who make it early meet up with friends and relatives, staying together. Conjurers and botanists tidy up the city, preparing the grove by the Stillglade Fane and raking the fields by the Botany guild to make ready for gatherers and people to sit upon.[/align]

 

[align=center][/align]

 

Priests and devotees for Nophica celebrate in their home towns, passing out apples and small maps encouraging friends who are able to make the pilgrimage should go.

 

[align=center][/align]

 

OOC - A few people have asked for some IC reasons to know about the pilgrimage. So I'm setting up a bit of a scene that people can see and hear about the Nophica event this Saturday.

This is up to free-form so whatever brings your character brings them! Cowls are also available for the quiet listeners.

Performers: Asked by friends or the priests of Nophica to speak on behalf of the Matron.

 

Pilgrims: Heard it from the local elders, priests, and merchants talking about the pilgrimage. Saw pilgrims along the road or new faces around their common houses and strikes up a conversation to find out. Small maps and Hymns of Nophica are passed out on small slips of parchment.

 

Anyone who wants to be a Guard or Dancer: A priest of Nophica can ask for volunteers and helpers. 

 

If anyone wants to speak to a Pilgrim IC can contact me. There is a pilgrim in each city and Jancis is also available to ask people to come along. I'll do as many personal invitations as are requested, but it's difficult to outreach to everyone in their preferred style of learning.

 

[Delilah Scythewood]

"I'm getting to old for this shit..." Lili muttered to herself. Her long hair was in a braid and she wore some of the simplest clothes she could find that she didn't mind getting sweaty in. Moving boxes, furnishings, adjusting some of the newer pieces they purchased now that they had more space to work with...

 

It was beautiful. Moreso then she imagined it could be.

 

From the box she just brought in stuck out a rolled up thing of parchment that she plucked up before unrolling to view the contents. With a house this size, it could work. Finally. She had been waiting for this day since she was a child. Setting the parchment to the side she quick ran to the other side of the room at the sight of Ado trying to clamber up the shelves for some cookies.

 

As she left it in place, the parchment slowly unfurled to reveal not only the makings of an airship...but multiples.

 

And.

 

An airship workshop.