Bulletin Board

[Warren Castille]

It was only during the deadest hours Warren felt like he could properly relax. Relaxation while in his armor was rare, and while a smart part of himself chastised that it didn't truly count as keeping watch when the only thing to watch were dozing drunks and the truly-early risers catching a quick bite before the fourth bell of the day sounded gently in the not-yet-breaking dawn, the stiffness in his legs and arms were grateful for the respite. The big man took a seat at the bar, gingerly, and rolled a stiff shoulder in its joint.

 

"You know you don't have to stand there with your arms folded all the time, right?" One of the barmaids stuck with the worst shift commented and he responded with a weary smile.

 

"I'm sure Momodi would insist I pay her for lost business if she could," he politely joked, consciously forcing himself to stop antagonizing his own limb. "She'll just have to make- Oh." He looked in her direction to find her already crossing towards one of the early patrons flagging her down. When you were stuck with the sleeping and the business oriented as your only tables, you stayed on top of them to make sure they'd slip you something more than a lingering glance.

 

Warren rose back to his feet, creaking back into a vertical position before adjusting the sword on his hip and the shield on his back. Another night down. He hoped to be back at home before dawn.

[FreelanceWizard]

The snap-crackle of purple Aether in the Coerthas sky announced the arrival of a barefoot miqo'te to the uncaring, snowflake-filled winds of Camp Dragonhead. Unfortunately for L'yhta, she found herself a few hundred yalms from the Aetheryte, twenty fulms off the ground, and upside-down, her bright red hair and tail dangling for a brief moment before gravity reasserted itself. "Oh shite--" she managed to shout before she unceremoniously crashed head first into a snowbank. A nearby wolf sniffed in her direction, shook its head (perhaps disapprovingly), and wandered off.

 

A moment later, the pile of snow exploded with a force of a Fire spell, and the now drenched wizard crawled out, shivering as steam drifted off her. She scanned the horizon and crossed her arms over her camise with a huff. "Great call, Yhta, randomly teleporting away," she grumbled to herself. "'I left some magical thing on somewhere that's not here?' Now everyone's going to think you're crazy! She's going to think you're crazy!" She glanced up at a hawk perched on nearby rock and jabbed a finger at it, shouting, "Don't judge me, bird!" For its part, the bird quirked its head to one side, then flew off.

 

With a sigh, L'yhta drew the geometry for Teleport in the air in front of her -- carefully calibrating it to head back to Limsa Lominsa's Aetheryte, and this time emphatically not above the ground -- and vanished in a flash of Aether.

[Whittledown]

Otto Vann does good work. Obsidian Hornet was in pure white from head to toe as she examined herself in the mirror of her room at the Hourglass. The beret perched on her head was her favorite item at the moment, but the short skirt and stockings combo was growing on her. The band of onyx skin that showed between the top of the stocking and the bottom of the skirt was just the right amount of sex. Subtle, but noticeable. The top of course put even more skin on display and Hornet grinned at herself before adjusting 'the girls' and going through a few sets of poses. The demure Elezen hostess. The playful miqo'te barmaid. The coquette who has just now noticed that someone has been casting admiring glances her way.

 

Hornet play acted a brief scene against herself that left her giggling at the woman in the mirror. She felt good. The outfit was beautiful. She felt powerful in it. Another sort of armor for a different sort of battle. She turned around and looked at her reflection over her shoulder. She gave a little shake of her behind and grinned before stepping away to undress and make ready for bed. As she hung the garments with care she briefly regretted that a certain person had already seen her wearing it. There would be no chance to surprise them with it. Ah well. She had another surprise in mind anyway. She went to bed with a smile on her lips and somehow the scent of the sea came to her just before she drifted off to sleep.

[Dogberry]

Dogberry rowed, using his strokes to mark time in the song he sang.

 

[align=center]"Oh love is kind to the least of men

E awa, E awa

Though he be but a drunken tar

E awa, awa"[/align]

 

He left Dhemgeim sleeping on the beach in their palm frond shelter, and borrowed the boat from a local fisherman after procuring a few precious items. A bottle of rum. A bouqet of roses. A basket, some rope, and a heavy rock.

 

[align=center]"Far from man and the sight of land

E awa, E awa

Oh, who will love the sailor man?

E awa, awa"[/align]

 

He rowed with solemn purpose from the beach of Costa del Sol, where he lived for so long, and made his way to a point that he seemed to know well. He looked to his items. The rum and the roses were in the basket with rocks, tied tightly shut.

 

[align=center]"Take me to that star eyed maid

E awa, E awa

I was happy with her laid

E awa, awa"[/align]

 

A seagull landed on his boat, and he regarded it with a nod. Good luck, he thought. A blessing for his task. He prayed the bird would hear his message, and carry his words off where they needed to go.

 

[align=center]"In the comfort of her bed

E awa, E awa

Oh let me lie until I'm dead

E awa, awa"[/align]

 

He stopped rowing. He had reached his destination, and the seagull watched him pick up the basket and place it gently in the water. It quickly sank down below. Dogberry looked to the Seagull, and said "Take this out to Laughing Bird. Tell her I will do right by our son. Tell her that she's still my lady. Thank her for me, and apologize. I've been told I'm a crack-knobbed looby. I'm sure she'll agree."

 

Dogberry thought for a moment that the seagull had a look of recognition, maybe even sympathy in its eye. The gull flew away, and Dogberry took to rowing back to Costa del Sol, the song coming back to him.

 

[align=center]"Oh love is kind to the least of men

E awa, E awa

Though he be but a drunken tar

E awa, awa"[/align]

[cuideag]

"Likewise. Thank you, Melkire."

 

The voice on the other end of the pearl paused. "You're... welcome."

 

Delial Grimsong muttered. The day had been getting stranger and stranger as it went. Wolfsong approached her without blood in his eyes and spoke of a trap clearly laid out for him. "Roen's been taken," he said bluntly and without ceremony. He made no threats, threw no insults and that, perhaps, was what gave Delial an odd feeling above all else. Wolfsong was calm.

 

"Still no show, m'love," Folclind said once she was certain that Delial was finished with her conversation. The midlander girl had served as the middle-man, in a sense, between herself and Crim. Rarely did one pass through Vesper Bay without the other learning of it, and even if they did not pass, they still left word and occasionally something else with the grey-haired girl anyway. Bottles of sour wine, warm words of greeting: it was embarassing in every way and yet Deilal still indulged. She half suspected Folclind enjoyed it, too. "Havent'ye heard from him elsewise...? He's not been in 'ere for suns."

 

"Not a word," growled Delial. It was not like the man she knew as Itarliht to go so long without a visit. As though you should be worried, a voice in her head snapped. As though that man could not handle himself without a woman fretting after him. Have you really gone so soft...?

 

Her nostrils flared. Melkire mentioned Askier vanished from the streets as well, but the boy seemed doomed to making one mistake after the other. There was no denying that the timing of it all was strange, but both men were there when she met with Roen and Wolfsong alike. Both men were there when she told them to leave her be. No, it had to be something else.

 

"It matters not." Delial rose from her table, ignoring the pang in her knees. Folclind smiled kindly to her, and even more so when she set a handful of gil upon the table. "You will give him my regards if he happens by? I've business to attend to in The Shroud."

 

"Of course, m'love. Anything in particular...?"

 

A pecular smile tugged at the highlander's painted lips, so peculiar that she did not even notice it happening. She shook her head, however, raising a hand to wave behind her as she made for the exit. 

 

"My thanks, dearest, but... No. No, I shall tell him myself."

 

 

 

 

[Adrian]

Dhemgeim sat in a room in the Quicksand, on the bed with her feet in the ground and elbows pillared against her knees. She did not look comfortable. The room was hot. An oil lamp had been glowing, but it had only added to the heat so was blown out. Now, she sat in darkness. The din under her feet was still audible, only growing more irritating. Like some insect buzzing in her room that could not be found or rid of.

 

 

Just as the cacophony from the tavern was not as it seemed, the woman did not feel at all a woman at that moment. She was a storm. The sea lay within her and it was not calm. Clouds roiled and thundered, and the rain poured. She would have made bad company to anyone who stood before her, caught within the gales that would have easily torn asunder any mast. This was why she sat in the dark. Why she was so furious and why she sat alone were an answer one and the same. The more she thought about it, the more the storm grew. Soon, she felt, it was going to overtake her and she would become more storm than woman rather than as she was now; a woman carrying the storm within.

 

 

Tausenadel was gone. She had no idea how else to put it. Off, wandering somewhere probably. Finding something exciting to tame or some... maybe some new lass to sleep with. Dhemgeim’s shoulders quivered, the storm nearly escaping from its shell. But she was not a smart woman. She imagined those arms; the first arms that had held her with any real love. Then she thought of them, around some imaginary woman out there in Eorzea and her whole back spasmed. She felt like destroying her room, destroying everything in her sight and then finding something else to upend. Instead, she sat there in the humid and enclosed.

 

 

What she missed was his jokes. No one was as witty at their banter, and as thoroughly as she tried to tease or jest, no one could pick up her end to carry off like he did. She liked the way he had lifted her. No one would even think to lift Dhemgeim right over their shoulder, like she was some spring lass. Not before, and now not even after. Where was he? Did he miss her in the ways she missed him? Did he think of her?

A hand lashed out and struck the nearby wall.

Shuddering, Dhemgeim was left without answers. She was left alone in a room too humid to sleep. The only thing left was her storm that was ever-threatening. She had thought -- It wasn’t something she could believe breaking, those beliefs that had once been so strong. They had been a fact. While her realm was not broken, she was the one who felt broken when those facts were now in question. Her darling - her dearest - he...

 

 

Did he think of her at all? Did he remember their deeds and vows, the silly things they had done in privacy and the bold actions in public? Something within her was sliding, cleaving in half while she sat on that bed. A sudden hiccup rose, but it did not make it entirely. It sat painfully in her chest, and the roegadyn doubled over. She choked, then the hiccup burst free. Her voice hitched, and warm tears.

The storm did not rage under her skin.

Dhemgeim choked as she tried to stop crying. All she wished right then was for a hand to hold, familiar and pocked in scars. She opened her mouth wide to scream, but the only thing that came out was the quietest whimper. Her whole body hurt. It had ached all day with the pain and now she was overwhelmed, sinking. Wishing for help was in vain. Dhemgeim knew that by now, her nights that were filled with pain and loneliness never once answered.

 

 

This was her fault, she told herself. She had driven him away, so wracked by confusion and indecision. It was her fault for isolating Tausenadel from her heart and mind. She knew this now, and she could do nothing over it. He was gone. No one would lift her. No one to... laugh like he had. One less person who made her feel less like a strong roegadyn, but like a person. A tender, feeling woman who could love as much as she was loved. She’d lost this great thing, so mighty and astounding.

 

 

Dhemgeim had broken her own heart, and she was drowning in it now. She moved into the bed, laying atop the sheets. The tears still warmed her cheeks, breaths just small gasps while her body wrung in a pain that was new. No amount of guilt or fear felt as she did now. No sword or lance had dug so deep into her. It was new and ravaging, leaving the woman in shakes against the bed while she tried to breathe and think. It took several minutes, until finally she could lay there with the pain. It was a dull ache, emitting from a hollow between her breasts. She opened her mouth, of a mind to scream to fill the hollow. Not wanting the attention, she refrained. Instead, Dhemgeim wondered.

 

Would he return? What would she do until he did, or if he never did? He had been her entire realm... Had she told him that? The woman, for a moment, doubted that she had. It had just been such a simple fact but one so easily overlooked at the time. It was not something, she felt, she would be able to let go. No matter who came close to her right now - Hornet, Hundrbera came to mind - she mourned the man whom she’d pushed away. Who had been boyish and mature in the same breath. Her myna, now lost out somewhere. Maybe he’d even gone across the seas.

[Warren Castille]

Warren tried to ignore the fire in his sides and calves as his steps fell like bombshells in the earliest light of day. Even in the darkness dry heat clamped down on him, the city remembering the sun's embrace as if they were lovers. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran free but he blinked it out of his vision, a stray thought wondering if he could run the circuit blind. He let it float free for a moment before he reeled it back in. Focus now. More important things at hand.

 

Ul'dah was burning down around him.

 

He had once found no small satisfaction in protecting the patrons of the Quicksand when he could find the time. The mantra ran through his head unbidden, as much of an oath to himself as it was to others.

 

The people of this place are downtrodden and restless. It's important for them to know they've got someone looking out for them.

 

Recent events had him questioning whether or not that message was getting through. Rumors circulated but there were enough first-hand accounts that facts could not be denied. Protection money. Innocent women being roughed up on account of it. Corruption, bribery. Robbery. Warren felt naive to think that a new day was dawning where the Good and the Just could prove to the people that they had champions who meant them well. At times it felt like a fool's errand, trying to prove something untrue when the issue wasn't that no one believed you, it was that no one wanted to.

 

His mind reached out, wondering how large the web truly was. Was there any way to know? People, good people, had been branded as impure and on the take. Was there something he was missing? Things he had assumed of people were proven false, but were those falsehoods true? Warren's brow furrowed as he released the idea. Paranoia was not productive in an investigative environment.

 

In the here-and-now, Warren's feet led him to the fountain, just as they always had. The sun was peeking over the walls now, checking in on the Jewel still running hot from hours before. He sat heavily on the stone ring and thought not for the last time of dunking his head into the pooled water before choosing instead to sink his face into his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees and breathing heavily.

 

What else was he not seeing? Who else was being exploited? Warren sighed, knowing that he couldn't possible know. That was enough, however. Rumors and speculation didn't matter. Ul'dah was burning. He was going to do his part to put it out or burn with it.

[Kage]

((Taken place right after the events of this post.))

 

Kage returned to the house. The house was empty, meaning those he saw as his most cherished family were not there. He cleared his parched throat but he could not. He sighed, grabbing a glass of water.

 

His eyes followed his pet baby opo-opo's movements across the wooden floors as it moved happily about. Back and forth. Back and forth. His eyes closed as teeth bit into the flesh of his lips.

 

A loud howl of regret and desperation wailed throughout the house.

 

"I'm sorry Aya... I'm so sorry... But I have to... I can't falter in this. I won't. Everything. Anything."

 

The only sound after that was sobs.

[Melodia]

Nonotano limped with purpose toward the Ul'dah marketboard. He had been thinking of a way to attract the attention of the guards in town and decided he had no interest in getting arrested.

 

He arrived, and looked about. Ozmama had all but disappeared so he was having to do this alone. He always had the option of just letting Ruru go....but where would be the fun in that? He looked at the note in his hand, grinning at the words there. It was still early and the crowds hadn't filled the place. He tacked it quickly and then wandered away, viewing the shops casually.

 

The note read:

 

To the Sultansworn or any security arm within the city,

I have recently come by some troubling and dangerous information regarding the Lalafell named Rurutani Sasatani. If you would hear more, please contact me. I fear he has gotten himself into contact with the wrong people and may soon act against someone in the city or the city itself. I fear for my own safety and so contact by mail would be most appropriate.

 

Krell

[Coatleque]

((edited for continuity's sake!))

 

Her patrol for the night finally at its close, Coatleque decided to pass through the markets on her way back to her commander. She had the mind to find something nice for her friend Tasa whom she was looking forward to seeing again hopefully before the first bell of the new day. Standing there perusing the various postings, she came across his notice...

 

To the Sultansworn or any security arm within the city,

I have recently come by some troubling and dangerous information regarding the Lalafell named Rurutani Sasatani. If you would hear more, please contact me. I fear he has gotten himself into contact with the wrong people and may soon act against someone in the city or the city itself. I fear for my own safety and so contact by mail would be most appropriate.

 

Krell

 

"No rest for the weary." she sighed as she pulled the note from the board and turned towards the palace. Looks like this would be another night spent alone.

 

Later she would be seen giving a sealed letter to the Moogle before making her way to the soldier's barracks for what little sleep she could afford.

 

------

 

Master Krell,

It has come to our attention that you may have information that effects the personal safety of her Imperial Highness or her citizens. As your own safety is also in question, I would deign to meet with you at the location of your choosing to discuss these matters. Be aware that I shall be well armed and wary of any tricks.

 

Lady Crofte, Sgt.

[Kage]

((once Ruru posted I started to type up a response... and then I saw that both Coatleque and Warren had removed the notice. >.< /sadface))

 

The uniformed Brass Blade Miqo'te walked through the market stalls, an eye out for any suspicious activity. His thoughts raced still about the recent turmoil his life was going through. Seeing Alex again. Seeing Salem. The visor turned, this way and that as the Miqo'te stopped in his tracks.

 

Snickers. Usually Kage would not pay any mind or attention to it as recently it was always aimed at him. His once being Sultansworn to then becoming a Brass Blade. The twelve-damned sollerets. His transformation. Those sollerets! His head had stopped in a direction of a large Roegadyn Brass Blade. The large Roegadyn clearly had a wig of auburn hair. It was definitely very... odd. Kage took notice of it before continuing his patrol.

[Whittledown]

The work was going slower than expected. Hornet was in the Sagoli desert in a small cave that she was trying to make habitable. Step one was already done. She had covered a large piece of canvas in paste and pressed it into the sand and grit around the cave so that when she sets it over the entrance the color and texture matches the surrounding area. It would be nearly invisible when she wanted it to be. Inside she had hung two ropes running parallel along the length of the cave that each had a single lantern hung to it. She was proud of the lighting idea, she could move the lanterns up and down the cave wherever she needed light.

 

The cave varied between two feet wide and ten feet and was forty feet long. The slimmest point was about thirty feet in where the stone walls come closer together before widening into a second, smaller chamber. Hornet was working from the back of the cave to the front, clearing dust and dirt and small stones and making sure no animals had made claim to the space. It took nearly a full day to clean the cave to her satisfaction. Once that was done, she started to make it properly livable.

 

A large carpet was spread in the larger chamber along with a coal pit for cooking and a makeshift pantry made out of the empty bags she had used to transport her gear. The smaller room toward the back was prepped with sleeping gear. Blankets and pillows and cushions to make the hard floor a bit more bearable for herself and, hopefully, Dhemgeim. It was nearly nightfall on the second day when Hornet finally took a moment to rest and sit.

 

That positive sort of exhaustion that only comes from productive work washed over her as she watched the stars move through the night sky and saw the distant flames of the deserts fire elementals. She sat and drank from a skin of cool water. Nervousness was beginning to creep into her stomach. She hated waiting, but there was nothing more to it. She stayed out under the starlight for several hours before moving inside and securing the cover to the mouth of the cave.

[Dogberry]

The kids were putting on a play at Mhi Khetto's ampitheater, or rehearsing for one, or just making it up as they went. Dogberry wasn't really sure. He was watching them play from across the way. Mostly he fixated on the blonde Roegadyn boy. The tallest of the bunch, for sure. He could pass for a teenage Highlander if not for his gray skin. The boy was eight, about to turn nine. Dogberry knew this because he remembered the day the boy was born. He paced outside for hours while Laughing Bird was in labor. His mother and sisters banished him from the room. When he heard his son crying for the first time, he burst into the room to see Laughing Bird holding this little ball of gray skin and blonde fluff. And here was this boy, too big to hold now.

 

Dogberry was then suddenly aware of the other adults watching the children from across the way, much like he was. A friendly Elezen lady approached him.

 

"Are you here watching Rhutshald?" she asked. Dogberry looked up. "Rhutshald Styrseigsyn?" she clarified when he looked confused.

 

"Yeah," he said once he could collect himself. "Rhutshald Styrseigsyn. I'm his family. Just visiting."

 

"That's really nice," she said. "Styrseig and I go way back. I assume you're her brother-in-law?"

 

"Brother, actually." Dogberry said, sounding embarassed.

 

"That's funny, she's never mentioned another brother." The lady sounded suspicious.

 

"No, she just has the one," Dogberry said, going from embarassed to annoyed.

 

"Oh, so you're Daghbheri," the lady said, her face gaining a look of recognition. "Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Marigleise." They shook hands. "You know, we've always wondered why Rhutshald bares his mother's name," she said.

 

"Why don't you ask her?" Dogberry asked, dismissively.

 

"Oh, I wouldn't dare!" Marigleise laughed. "It's a touchy subject with her. Of course, I'm just curious. I know so little about Sea Wolf culture."

 

Dogberry didn't really want to dignify that with a response. Marigleise got the hint and took a few steps away, still watching her own child. He sat, arms crossed watching Rhutshald, but Styrseig's continuing parade of disrespect ate at him. He watched his own boy, and thought about the choices he had to make. None of them were easy decisions, but he felt he at least had acted in the boy's best interest. Didn't he deserve a place in the boy's life? Anger welled up in his chest.

 

"Marigleise!" He nearly roared out. She jumped and looked over at him.

 

"Uh, sorry," he apologized, bowing his head to her. "That came out stronger than I intended."

 

"Fine, fine," she said.

 

"Y'wanna know the truth about that boy's name?" He asked. "His name ain't Rhutshald Styrseigsyn. It's Rhutshald Daghbherisyn." Dogberry stood while the elezen woman was in obvious shock, and made his way off toward New Gridania.

[cuideag]

Delial did not sleep that night. She left the Cove, left Drumstick with his basket of fish and the others without so much as a word. She ignored the house she once based herself out of and, troubled, walked the dusty roads. Her knees had taken to aching again but she ignored them as well; the cold of Coerthas did not help, nor did the news learned there.

 

Webs were nothing new to her: an entity nudging another who nudges another, a cascade of cause and effect that, if one was clever, brought about an end desired. The ends were set in stone as far as she was concerned: Banurein wanted Gharen, needed Roen, and controlled at least a handful of agents in our around Ul'dah itself. Yet there was more: she had seen herself the pull she had with at least noble family in Ul'dah's upper eschelon, and Deilal did not doubt that there were others yet. Banurein was a woman who thrived on knowing things and knowing people; it also happened she was good at knowing things about people.

 

It was a point to which Delial was outclassed. In Ala Mhigo, mayhap, things may have been different; Ul'dah was a different beast entirely, one that thrived on gil she did not have and influence she could not gain. In Ala Mhigo, she had her name. In Ala Mhigo, she had her reputation.

 

And what is that now, love? What use is that to you now?

 

When she looked up (having failed to even realize that she had been staring at the paths) she found herself standing before the Pissed Peiste. The hour was late but she could still make out the glimmer of lamp-light pooling beneath the door. Something twisted in her gut: he would not be there, her sworn knight. If all that Osric and Saravena and even Askier, too, by way of his journal were true then something had gone very, very wrong. It was bad enough that Roen Deneith was being held captive, but that it would be two men she had thought to trust...

 

Delial growled and spat and shook her head as if to shake loose the suspicion that had been chilling the pit of her stomach. Something had gone wrong and there were more things than she cared to acknowledge pointing at Itarlilht. Were it any one else being taken hostage, she would not have cared; were it Askier himself held captive, she may have even helped. Roen Deneith was different. She was special, and her brother (traitorous as he may be) was still owed a debt. Why he would think to interfere was one piece of the puzzle she could not work out and that in itself filled her with dread.

 

It took her several moments before she peeled herself away from the door, turning upon a heel to sulk back the way she had come. The skipper said they had gone across the sea, stolen a boat. Limsa Lominsa: it was where she had first met the white-haired woman, the very same woman whom Itarliht promised to stand against together. "I'll be wherever ya want me," he said, the memory of it clear even if that night was fogged by sweetened wine. "'Specially by yer side."

 

It was faith that she held on to, bolstered as best as she can; faith that the signs left for them to follow were wrong somehow, that there was something they had overlooked. Delial tried to turn her thoughts elsewhere so that she did not have to wonder of blood splattered snow and singed wood. "The things he did to Roen," Askier had written, and she tried her hardest not to think on that either. 

 

"That Roe is a monster."

[Whittledown]

Hornet read and re-read the letter. The moogle that delivered it had caught her bathing in the Forgotten Springs. She had made the last preparations in the cave and was satisfied that she and Dhemgeim would be comfortable there for at least a few days, as long as they wanted to stay.

 

Hornet was numb, staring at the page, every fear brought up. This was her fault. Yet again she wasn't there to protect him. Or her. She thought keeping her distance was protection. They wouldn't find him if she didn't beat a path to his camp. But they got him anyway, and used his sister to do it. His sister. She wanted to cry. To scream. To curl up and just vanish so she would at least not know. Not knowing would be a comfort. But she did know. And suddenly she knew exactly what she needed to do.

 

There would be one person who might know what's going on. A vile, wicked person that no matter what she had told herself before she was still planning to kill some day. That would have to be delayed. Hornet dressed in her armor and took up her axe.

 

She arrived in Ul'dah and strode with a purpose to the heart of Ruby Road. There she took a deep breath, ignoring the stares of those around her. She held it for a moment before in a bellow that would shake stone she roared...

 

"I NEED! TO SPEAK! WITH DELIAL!"

 

She then sat, and waited. If the witch didn't hear the words herself surely she must have a rat scurrying around that would inform her of what just happened. She sat and she waited. She sat and she sharpened her axe.

[Melodia]

The boy looked about making sure he was alone. At this hour the streets were generally deserted and the guilds were all but abandoned. He had been busy for the past hour, skulking about in the night hours, as he'd been paid to do; well paid. He was a poor boy, and without a roof over his head, Pearl Lane his home for some time now. And the Lalafell had paid him handsomely. All he had to do was post these notices around the city guilds and then keep quiet. It was a simple enough instruction and he was so hungry that the coin offered made up for any doubts he may have had at the curious posting.

 

He tacked up his last one and walked away to the market, hoping to be able to get a meal for once in a long while. The posting he'd just done was near the Weavers Guild, and read (as many others did):

 

[align=center]                              ATTENTION BRASS BLADES[/align]

 

 

Your services are no longer required in the city of Ul'dah nor in the areas surrounding the city. As your concerns are driven by the coin we have sought fit to remove your presence by force if necessary. Only last night we had to deal with one of your members outside the city. Since you are not interested in the safety of the city nor its citizens, we expect you take your people elsewhere. If you remain, your safety cannot be guaranteed.

 

Signed,

The Free Paladins of Ul'dah

[Warren Castille]

For the second time in as many days, Warren found himself staring curiously as a posted notice. This time his expression was more glaring than merely scowling. He unfolded his arms from his chest and removed the offending notice with a single short tug, inspecting it as if to confirm it was in fact real and not imagined.

 

He didn't speak, a low growl rumbling from his throat and he took a look around. The hustle and bustle of the streets seemed as normal as ever. Warren turned, taking care to peer into the crowd as throngs of people moved to and from stall to stall. For a moment he was statuesque, truly seeing the size of the crowd and trying to distill a sense of the mood from their passing.

 

Nothing returned to him, however. Crumbling the paper, Warren set off on the usual patrol routes, hoping to run into someone he hoped he could trust.

[Melkire]

((Moved to "A Brief Meeting"))

[Unnamed Mercenary]

By the time he'd woken up, it was mid-day and the desert heat was burning. The Unnamed Mercenary got off the cot he'd been sleeping on, used a washing basin to rinse his face, and put his mask on, making sure to adjust it perfectly. Leaving the inn room he had stayed in, any number of people could have heard him mutter "why in the hells is this place so hot?" as he entered Ul'Dah. 

 

Sure to make no eye contact with any of the locals, he made his way to the Quicksand for a drink. "The ale's probably the only redeeming thing about this place." His money was getting low, and there was nothing to do. He hadn't seen a certain Brass Blade making his rounds lately, so there wasn't even a person to cause trouble for.

 

He needed work. Something, anything. The mere thought of having to beg to survive was not an option.

[Aya]

It was the simple pleasures that really lifted Aya's spirit, and brought the sweetness to her smile.  Seeing friends visiting the Quick Sand to share a round of drinks, and just enjoying each others' company.  The little victory of convincing the Elezen woman to buy a pot of tea, when she had not wanted to order anything.  The even sweeter victory of knowing that she had enjoyed, and appreciated, the Gridanian Honey tea that she'd been served.  The little chamber was a slow hum of activity, reunion, and merriment.

 

Aya had not seen Aldyet for weeks, not since she overheard mentions of a transfer to Limsa Lominsa.  Those moments seemed an eternity ago now, and not only had she missed the young swordswoman, but had become worried about her during the long absence.  With all that was happening in Ul'dah it seemed like anything could have become of her, and there was no one to tell her that all was well.  It was a relief to see her in person, alive and well, if frustrated.

 

That had been earlier in the evening, and by now the lanterns within the Quick Sand had dimmed.  Momodi never quite closed shop,  but it was time for the night watch.  Aya pulled the cloak across her shoulders, hooking it together around her neck with a brooch.  She glanced back to the Lalafel who looked back with concerned look in her little eyes, "Are you sure it can't wait for light at least?" 

 

Aya nodded, and smiled with that reassuring sweetness, "Don't worry, I'll be fine!"  It was easier said, than done, Momodi was worried, and so was Aya.

 

The Hyur girl took a conscious breath, drawing a last lungful of the Quick Sand's fragrant air, spiced with tea, coffee, alcohol, and the tingle of ground peppers, before pushing open the door and stepping outside into the night air.  She looked around alertly, finding to her relief that there were no Brass Blades waiting for her.

 

It was the same alleyway that only suns ago had seen her safe, secure little world turned upside down.  Those very people who had provided for her a sense of security, a sense of belonging, and of family... no, that was a step too far, they had never called her that, she had never meant that to them.  She had abandoned her only family in Ishgard; there will never be another, that had been her decision, and it could not be undone.

 

She took careful steps, eyes glancing quickly about the darkened alley as she set off into the Ul'dahn night, lit only by the silvery glow of moonlight, casting sinister shadows against every surface. 

 

 

"Is this really a good idea?" she thought to herself.  "I told Aldyet we'd speak alone... but I didn't think she'd pick some place so far away.  Why didn't we just use the kitchen? Its worked so well..." 

 

Aya had scarcely left the Quick Sand for days.  Whatever sense of security she felt within the city, that was the only place where it was to be found.  She glanced behind her, wondering if just maybe... no... "Where is that Miqo'te..." she sighed under her breath.  A bodyguard couldn't spend every waking hour watching over her, she couldn't hold that against him.

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, trying to hide her blonde locks from sight.  The heels of her boots clicked against the paving stones, sending echos along the abandoned alleyway.  She had been warned that the Brass Blades would come back.  That they would exact vengeance, and at the very least extract from her what they had demanded.  She had reason to believe that this was no longer the case, that she was safe, but considering the source, just how far could it be trusted?  Perhaps the new security measures had been noticed, and the Blades were trying to lull her into a false sense of security. 

 

"Why did I come back...?"

 

Her heart had told her that she could not solve every problem just by running away.  She might be alone, but sometimes you still have to stand your ground.  Her reason reminded her, though, that running away had always worked in the past.  Indeed, it seemed like she had been born running away, always on the move from  one problem to the next:  Ala Mhigo, Limsa, Ishgard, Gridania, Ul'dah; perhaps her heart simply knew that there was nowhere else to run.

 

Her eyes darted, making Brass Blades of every shadow, assassins sent to teach the entire city a lesson: defy the Brass Blades at your own risk.  For a moment the thought flickered through her mind that Aldyet had once been a confident of theirs, like family. Was she working for them still?  Was this a setup, an ambush? 

 

She walked a little faster.  "No... Aldyet would not do that.  She was always standing up for what she thought was right, she'd never allow herself to be used like that."  But the fear lingered, if she couldn't trust Kage, just how could she really trust anyone else?

 

"Osric..." she sighed aloud, "how much longer is this going to go on?".  Everything had gone dark for her suns ago.  No word, no idea what was going on in the city any more.  How long was she going to have to fear the darkness?  She had nothing else to offer, what little good she could have done for any of them had already been done. He was certainly right to keep her in the dark, but just how much more intolerable it made the shadows.

 

Finally she turned into the corridor approaching the fountain.  Torch light flickered against the walls, tongues of light falling across her form as she continued cautiously.  She let her hood drop, and slowed her breathing to try and still her beating heart.

 

As she approached the fountain Aldyet spotted her and stood to greet her.  She was alone.  Aya smiled, "A friend at last... with a sword I can trust."  The fear of the lonely dark faded away.

 

Aya had not been brave.  She had never been courageous, nor bold.  How would she hold up against the myriad trials facing her now?  Still, she had something of a wily resourcefulness about her, she'd become known as "Foxheart" for a reason.  She could only hope that would be enough to see her through.

[Eva]

In the Central portion of the Twelveswood there is perched a thicket along the edge of the lake commonly called "The Mirror", and only a handful know that beyond the dense overgrowth of branches and brambles and briars exists a shady glen, only easily accessed by way of the sandy shore.  A place a particular elezen woman knew well from a time long ago.  Sunflowers grew along the edge of the lake where shafts of light pierced the thick canopy and cast a scintilating spell upon the gently rippling waters.

 

Apart from the sandy shore, the clearing was covered in short, thick grass and stretched about 20 yalms before the forest staked its claim on the land.  But it was more than enough room for her purposes.  A well-kept leatherbound journal sat atop an oilcloth satchel on one edge of a flat rock near the shore.  Beside it lay a black shawl woven with lace along the edges and folded neatly.  Insects buzzed inside the nearby shadows of the thicket.

 

The best thing about this place was that it was reasonably secret.  Keen duskwight ears would pick up the splashing sounds of anyone approaching from the lake.  And anyone foolish enough to try cutting through the expanse of bramble and root would make a racket in doing so.  And the way the shore was situated blocked the view of the place from all but a sliver on the opposite shore, and even that was far enough away that anyone standing there wouldn't see much more than a blur of motion as that figure way off in the distance danced upon the soft grass.

 

The woman herself was of extremely fair complexion and clad only in a form fitting bathing suit and could be described by some as beautiful, or others as chubby or stocky - particularly for an elezen.  Lacking the lithe and sinewy figure most of her race prided themselves on, the woman who often felt self-conscious of her form now felt free to be herself in this place, far from the scrutinizing eyes of others.  Her blonde hair was damp and tied back in a ponytail.  Her violet eyes focused on nothing in particular, and a dark gray tattoo resembling a gnarled branch streaked down one side of her face from her forehead and forked outward onto her cheek.  Bare shoulders were of the same milky complexion and reflected the sunlight where it peeked through the trees, though a sodden bandage covered her left shoulder, and a matching one marked a spot not far away on her back.  An ample bosom was compressed slightly and kept in place by the black fabric of her bathing suit which was practical enough to allow for all her movement.  Her arms and legs were tones, and still carried droplets of water as she floated gracefully across the grass.  Well-manicured hands loosely grasped the haft of a wooden practice spear.  And as she transitioned from one form to the next, her red lips parted to whisper softly to no one but herself the name her father had given her for that particular form.

 

"Wave Breaks on the Rocks"

 

Thoughts drifted across her mind as she danced the forms there in her own private sanctuary.  She had been instructed long ago to find a void or a place where she could transcend these thoughts and simply become one with the spear.  She was never able to identify with her father's methods while he was alive, and now that he had passed on she still struggled with it sometimes, but felt that she owed it to him and to all of her ancestors to at least try.

 

"The Falcon Dives"

 

Another thought permeated her mind.  One that surfaced often.  The company.  They looked to her as a leader and it felt so foreign for her to be that for them.  In the Watch she was an advisor.  That's what she did.  And she was respected for that.  She didn't have to make the hard choices.  Merely give counsel to those who did.  And then Oskar Helvig passed away and everything stopped making sense to her.  The Calamity happened.  They all still needed each other.  They needed to feel a sense of purpose.  Charity seemed a good idea.  She had made her way back to Gridania after all of that thanks to the charitable hearts of a pair of miqo'te brothers.  But it doesn't pay the bills.

 

"Maid Sweeps the Floor"

 

Mercenaries.  It was like the Watch again, but without Oskar.  Without her love.  It had been a beast of a company, with many arms and with Oskar as the head.  And she had been the creature's heart.  A conscience.  She had more than her fair share of disagreements with the man, but she grew to love him and fall in love with him.  Why did he have to die too?

 

"Butterfly's Wings"

 

Now there are enemies.  Opposition.  Someone had said that taking a stand sometimes incurs that.  The Felstar family.  Costia's mother.  Ben.  What was his deal anyway?  All they were striving for was to make Eorzea a better place for everyone while earning some gil in the process.  Their goals seemed good, so why were they constantly being stymied?

 

"Tapping the Nail"

 

The makeshift lance swung around laterally, a blur at both ends for a moment before being thrust forward and then up-and-down in a slight tapping motion.  Her mind had managed to clear itself again for a moment before another thought swam through.  The sermons.  It bothered her that they were calling them that, since it sounded preachy.  She was overdue for one, having pushed back the last.  Once a fortnight she had resigned herself to.  And a brief parable to tell to whomever would hear them at the Sanctum to the Twelve, followed by a short discussion and how some of those who had gathered might relate it to their own lives.  They seldom ran over a bell, often even only half that.  And they were insightful.  She was due to give another in a couple of suns and hadn't had time to prepare thus far.  But not right now.  Focus.

 

"The Windmill Turns"

 

It was getting hot.  Pater was kind to look after her babies as much as he had been lately, even after the attack.  He ceaselessly tried to get her back into the book shop, but she knew that life had passed away for her a long time ago.  It was sometimes fun to think about it, but she no longer sought books for her sightseeing and for her adventures.  There was plenty of the world she still hadn't seen, and the grand companies provided a steady stream of adventures for them all.

 

"Harvesting Wheat"

 

A low sweeping motion ending with the lance-point at the opposite side laterally.  There was going to be a celebration the following day.  This was a new concept but there was so much work and so little time to sit and enjoy the fruits of all that labor.  Two of their newer members had been on the roster long enough to enjoy full membership priviliges.  A few words at the Headquarters in Lavender Beds, then ride the aether to Ul'dah and spend the evening at the Hourglass.  They deserve it.  They work hard.  And there's still plenty of gil in the company coffers from all the work done last moon, even if this has been a pretty dry one so far by comparison.

 

"Tipping the Pitcher"

 

From low to high, arching her back she fluidly made the most difficult transition of the series in the way her father had taught her.  She continued to be unsuccessful in purging her mind of wandering thoughts.  Now it was her father again, a memory of him from her childhood.  He had been a knight before she was born, and a part of that never really left him.  She remembered how he would dance on the fields of Coerthas after the sheep had all been put to pen.  She would watch, and help shear them when that time came.  It had just been the two of them growing up.

 

"The Hammer Falls"

 

High to low now, a jumping maneuver.  They had to leave Coerthas abruptly.  She was seven.  She knew it was because of her.  She couldn't undo what had been done.  Gridania was scary at first.  She was different from the other elezen.  Her father said that sometimes things are "painful but necessary" - words that echoed back from the recesses of her very soul several times throughout her life.

 

"And back to Wave Breaks on the Rocks again..."

 

The cycle was complete.  It wasn't all of the forms, but it was her preferred sequence, and one of the first her father had taught her.  It was a graceful dance, if not entirely effective or practical for many actual combat situations.  Instead it was valued more as a form of meditation.  A way to slow her mind a bit.  But there was much to do over the next several suns.

 

As abruptly as it had begun, the dance ended.  The bosomy duskwight thrust the practice weapon back into the ground near the thicket where she had gotten it from, picked up her shawl, tucked her journal into the satchel before sealing it closed tightly and waded out into the gently rippling waters before splashing forward and swimming towards the opposite shore.

[Whittledown]

Hornet sat on the balcony of the Wench with her feet dangling over the drop. Her head was down and her face was beginning to hurt from the anxious expression she wore. She'd always loved Limsa Lominsa. It was never really home, the desert was home, but she'd always felt a kinship with the city. And now it felt like a prison. Stuck there, chained to the city, waiting.

 

It wouldn't be so bad if she had someone to share the time with. Someone who could hold her and lay with her until she relaxed enough to fall asleep. Am I really so co-dependent? She wondered, wishing she could just get drunk and pass out to get away from everything. She couldn't, of course. She had to stay sharp and vigilant. For Gharen and Roen's sake she had to be ready at a moments notice.

 

She thought she might have that person to share with in Dhemgeim, but she was sure she had ruined it. And bitter though the thought might be, she was quite sure she'd done Dhemgeim a favor. Dhemgeim was broken in ways that Hornet did not have the freedom to help her with right now. Dhemgeim needed someone whole and undivided. She deserved that.

 

Hornet looked down at the dark water below, leaning precariously over the edge of the balcony. All her power and her plans. Every clever word and passionate kiss. It was all worthless in the end. She would never have Dhem. And even a semi-normal life with Gharen was out of the question. They were two ships, she and him, destined only to meet in passing when the tides were right.

 

Maybe this was part of the penance. Spend your life alone to atone for the husbands and wives and sons and daughters and fathers and mothers that she's deprived of others. It made a cruel amount of sense. She straightened up and let herself lay down on the deck, staring at the stars. A Yellow Jacket would make her move at some point. But for now she just wanted to stare at the night sky and loose herself in the places between the lights.

[Kage]

A lone Miqo'te hung near the doors of the Quicksand, eyeing the occupants. The patrons were smiling or having rowdy discourse. The ale and drinks were flowing. Gil was tossed about as they were served. He didn't see anyone familiar and for that he was thankful. Kage needed the solitude for now.

 

"They know my name."

 

Kage closed his eyes, grinding his back teeth together.

 

"If they know a female was here with someone named Kage, who do you think they will go after? It will all be for naught."

 

The image of blood and the Brass Blades uniform in the pitch black with only the dim light of a lantern.

 

"I'm sorry, but you know my name."

 

Eyes snapped open and Kage strode quickly up to the bar. He quirked one lip as he gently laid gil atop of the counter while a storm of emotion raged behind his eyes. He received the ale, the one that Aya had once recommended and served him. He choked back the bile in the back of his throat as he chugged the ale down. He placed the mug on top of the counter and bowed his head to the barmaid with a smile. With his eyes closed and a large exhale of breath he exited the Quicksand towards Pearl Lane.

 

Seeing no one in sight or in the vicinity, the Miqo'te slammed his back against a wall as he slid down and cried.

 

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

 

A bell later, Kage slowly brought himself to his feet. He needed to prepare for the plan Gharen had divulged to them. Roen. A vessel. Red Fin. Vesper.

 

Crim had better not have done anything to Roen. He would not live to see the next moon if he had.

[Coatleque]

The pair walked up the Eighty Sins in silence. He was ahead of her, though only slightly. She kept her respectable distance out of reverence. Certainly not of fear. She had seen death before to be certain. But this...

 

Finally he broke the silence as they neared the gate of the Sultana.

"Bad bit of business that was. I'm sorry, Ser, but... you needed to see."

 

"To see what exactly?", she replied curtly.

 

"Her. To see what she has become. What she is capable of."

 

They walked on a few more paces in silence.

"Did Natalie murder those Blades?"

 

"No. She ordered Kage to."

 

The Knight scoffed. "Not even the courage to carry out her own dirty work. And he just followed right in line, the whipped cur."

 

More silence. They had passed through the gate by now and were about to turn down the main boulevard when he stopped and faced her.

"Look... ah... You heard what I told Alexei to do. I'm an accessory now..."

 

She knew in her gut where this was going. But what could she do at this point? She was also a witness, though not directly involved in the dealings. She took a deep breath. This was not the time to falter.

"I hear many things in the desert, Ser. But sometimes the wind does blow hard across my ears..."

 

She could not tell if his expression changed behind his mask. He saluted her, which she returned.

"You have my thanks..."

 

They parted ways after that. He turned left... she turned right.

[Melodia]

Sometime Later....

 

With the winds off the sea blowing his dark hair, Ruru sat on the docks in Limsa smiling. He'd finally settled, finally found some peace. It was a new peace, one he'd earned and while his life had changed, he knew it was for the better. He was a new man with a new purpose. He gripped the leatherworking knife and chuckled.

 

It was a good cover business. Would allow him to make money for the two of them and also keep eyes off of his side enterprise. Moving goods or people in and out of the city would be easier behind the veil of a leatherworking shop. Kink had taught him well and he meant to ensure her lessons weren't lost on him.

 

He'd put Ul'dah behind him, with the exception of a few memories. The city had burned him and he wanted little to nothing more to do with it. His former contacts....people he'd called friends, had abandoned him. The thought made his brow furrow in frustration and he allowed himself one last glimpse. The letters he'd sent them had been ignored....never returned or answered. The man had broken his promise to Ruru and that seething memory was one that Ruru tucked deeply inside his mind, one thta would fuel him should the two ever meet again.

 

Standing, he pushed the thought aside. He wouldn't waste another moment on those in Ul'dah that had caused him pain. For now he needed to get to work, and needed to get back to Alulu before she worried where he was.