Bulletin Board

[Dogberry]

An falling-out with Endemerrin, damn near another brawl with Tausenadel, and a break-up with Dhemgeim.

 

Not a good night at all, Dogberry thought. At least Xenedra and Castus, good friends through and through, were there to keep him from doing anything stupid. So many bridges burned tonight, it was time maybe to take some personal time to regroup. He put on his Limsa Lominsan Officer's Coat and tricorne hat, and stepped out from his cabin aboard Syldra's Revenge.

 

"All hands on deck!" He bellowed, and the call echoed with the voices of the other officers, passing the order below deck. Within minutes the deck contained the whole crew.

 

"I want to thank you all for a fine voyage," he began. "I hope this was a profitable endeavor for all of you. We've a full compliment of oil aboard deck, and enough trade that I dare say many of ya can feed your families for the next six moons. Or if not your own families, then those of your favorite ceiling inspectors."

 

The crew laughed.

 

"That's why I've decided t'quit while we're ahead, lest Llymlaen guide us to Nymeia's misfortune. When we roll into Vesper Bay, you'll be paid out for your work and be free to seek out what you will. I want to take a moment to thank all of ya for bein' a pleasant and able crew. Should any of you lot decide to come back to Syldra's Revenge I'll be happy to have you."

 

He turned and went back into his cabin and began to pack. Some time in Ul'dah would do. As he packed, he heard the crew begin to sing.

 

Oh the times was hard and the wages low

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

And the grub was bad and the gales did blow

And it's time for us to leave her

 

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds do blow

And it's time for us to leave her

 

I thought I heard the Old Man say

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

You can go ashore and take your pay

And it's time for us to leave her

 

Oh her stern was foul and the voyage was long

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

The winds was bad and the gales was strong

And it's time for us to leave her

 

And we'll leave her tight and we'll leave her trim

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

And heave the hungry packet in

And it's time for us to leave her

 

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her with a grin

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

For there's many a worser we've sailed in

And it's time for us to leave her

 

And now it's time to say goodbye

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the old pierhead's a-drawing nigh

And it's time for us to leave her

[Warren Castille]

Less than day from then he would be back into the frozen north, but for a few more hours Warren Castille was soaking in the warmth of his last morning spent in Thanalan. It must have been a bit of a strange sight for those unaware that he spent time at the Grindstone; The normally rigid knight clad from neck to boot in heavy armor was strolling through the courts wearing what amounted to a pair of sturdy boots, a shoulder pad and a skirt. Those in the know would have considered it gladiatorial but to anyone else, it was preposterous.

 

His night and his morning had been uplifting. He couldn't have thought of a better send-off than spending time with those most important to him and there were still hours left of that before finally setting into the grim business that awaited. He wasn't going alone, however. Warren and Howl both knew of the risks they were incurring and while neither of them had any intentions of returning in anything less than whole, they were both aware things ultimately weren't going to be decided by them. Warren was taking things with him to provide strength, reasons to fight. He was carrying pieces of those who would protect alongside of himself into the frigid tundra, and he would not fail them.

 

The favor was obvious; It was given to him by her first, and at a time when he needed something to cling to. A spark of hope to carry him through what he thought were his darkest time, the white cloth had helped him through until he once again was welcomed into the light. Wrapped inside of it was the lock of blue hair. It had only come into his possession through sheer coincidence and he didn't feel entirely comfortable keeping it. It wasn't given to him of her own accord but he didn't feel right leaving it in the hands of a raving lunatic who didn't deserve it, either.

 

Alongside of those items was the flask Howl had given to him. He was going to make sure to fill it with the strongest drink he could find just in case he or Howl needed a moment to think back to home, and he fully expected them to. The words that had been inexpertly carved into the side meant more than the gesture. Warren could derive strength from those letters.

 

And then there was the ring. Warren knew enough of its history that he could tell it would not have been given under light circumstances, and he carried that information with no small matter of respect and pride. It was a meaningful heirloom that had been rendered onto him to, like the others, provide him strength and keep him fighting for what was important. Warren was going armed into the future with something more valuable than any masterwork weapon or legendary suit of armor, he was going into the northlands with the primordial fire that had driven man since creation.

 

Warren Castille was armed with hope, and he would both shelter it and be sheltered by it.

[Faye]

A letter! Such a joyous occasion! At least, when it wasn't a bill, or a check, or some junk mail, or some other paperwork to add to the mountain of parchment piling up on the desk of her office in the Mist. But letters, those were something she found she received too little of, and she beamed with delight every time she found one in her mailbox. Yes, it brought tremendous joy to the Hyur with the disposition of a housewife somehow rolled up with that of a coeurl. This letter she found today brought her terrific happiness in particular, despite how taken aback she had been to find her name scribbled upon the envelope in that all too familiar, horrendous hand writing.

 

She settled in at the padded chair of her desk, reaching for the envelope opener to carefully slice through the top fold of the sealed envelope. She pulled out the paper inside, unfolding it and laying it out across the mahogany desk to a take a look at its contents.

 

"Der feh,

 

i luv u cuz ur eyz r bloo

n cuz ur hart iz troo

n u liek mi a lot

evn aftr wi fot

ur smil is gr8 n i luv u so

bby plz alweys b mi ho

wzwyf

i luv u bby nevr cheng,

Vahl"

 

Her nose wrinkled with some hybrid of a vibrant smile and the same baffled expression she always got when she tried to decipher his lackluster spelling and sloppy penmanship. She smiled, giggling silently to herself and shaking her head as she stashed the letter carefully in a small drawer, safely adding it to the precious collection.

[Melodia]

Melodia grinned, looking in the mirror and straightening the jacket slightly. She had found her outfit, had made the preperations with the other Jackets, and had gotten good intel on who the woman was and where she'd likely be tonight.

 

The blue outfit matched her hair and she thought she looked good, which was not her normal reaction. With a smile she donned her Cavalier's cap and straightened it upon her head. Sliding the dagger into her pocket she took a deep breath.

 

"Now.....time t' meet this 'Kink' face t' face." She said it aloud, took another deep breath and stepped out of her apartment and headed to the Drowning Wench, praying to the Twelve the Jackets were in their places.

[Val]

"So.. that's th'whole thing wi' th'wolf tribe," the Seeker had finally ended after what was a thoroughly lengthy speech. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He'd never taken the time to tell someone about what had happened to him so long ago and, more importantly, what he did to put him where he was today. Now, here he was telling the one person he'd hoped would never find out for fear of losing her. That fear rose when she did not respond and, instead, stared down at the floor in silence.

 

"I only started out that way though. You've changed me," he added almost desperately, "Yer somethin' I knew I wanted but 'til now I didn't know how much I really needed ya. S'cause'f you that I'm helpin' people an' ain' bein' all horrid an' shit like I was. ..An' now if I lost ya, Idunno what I'd do. I can't live without ya an' I ain' wanna put m'arms 'round no one but you. I just wanna be by ya an' hold ya an' love ya an' all that stuff. An', ah.. .. I guess that's why I'm all protective'f ya. S'cause yer this perfect thing t'me that I have an' I need ya an' I can't stand th'idea'f losin' ya. T'anythin'."

 

"And you're certain I'm not just a replacement?" she questioned, her words barely above a whisper.

 

"F'course I am! I ain' never loved no one. Didn't even know I could. Wasn't ever taught it t'be honest an' I thought everyone else here were bitches f'doin' it. Always thought it was pointless an', well.. then y'look at me wi' those beautiful eyes'f yers an' y'put yer arms 'round me an' y'kiss me an' y'smile. It.. makes me feel all weird. Idunno how t'describe it, but m'stomach feels all empty an' light an' stuff an' it feels like 'ow I felt th'first time I saw ya. That's.. what I always hear those dumbasses sayin' love is like, so, ah.. .. I know I love ya, Princess." He took the time to reach across and place his hand over hers, partially in order to appease her and mostly because he wanted to feel her touch.

 

Faye allowed the motion, threading her fingers through his and tilting her head up to offer a gentle smile. "I love you, too, Val. Thank you for telling me all this. I, ah... I don't think differently of you because of it. The past is the past. The only part of who you used to be that matters is that it helped shape who you are today... which is the man I love dearly, my husband, my one and only."

 

As she spoke, everything that Val had described came full circle. His heart melted and his stomach felt as empty as it had ever been. His hand squeezed hers and his eyes lit up. He leaned forward to rest his forehead to hers while his free hand lifted to brush across the pale skin of her cheek. "I'm only this 'cause you've allowed me t'be, Princess. Y'gave me th'chance when ain' no one else bothered t'care. Yer th'most precious damned thing in this world t'me, an' I'll kill every person in it if it means gettin' t'see ya one last time."

 

"I'm not going anywhere, Val," she replied as she nuzzled the tip of her nose affectionately against his, a soft smile gracing her pink lips. "I'll be here, every day for you to wake up to." 

 

The two continued to nuzzle and whisper sweet nothings to one another, something that they'd certainly never be caught doing in public. Val of course would have always been afraid that it meant he was soft and weak, while Faye never considered such acts appropriate for public display. However different their views and mannerisms might have been, behind the closed doors of his office it was clear that the two were very much alike in private. Val would echo again his love for the noblewoman, and she the same for her ruffian. They would laugh, smile, tease, and continue to enjoy one of the few precious moments they had to be truly alone together.

[B'ren Lyrgh]

"B'yurt. Pray this finds you, somehow. Things haven't gone so well over here and I need advice. I need any help I can get, things have gotten so out of hand I don't think I can pull myself out of this alone. I went home, I'm sure you've heard about it on the winds like you usually do. But it's different this time.

 

I'm afraid and shaking in fear right now. 

Please stop hiding. Your brother needs you.

 

-B'ren"

[Melodia]

Two of the other Jackets were following her as she stormed out of the Drowning Wench and they continued as she had walked passed them without a word, mumbling under her breath. As they tried to stop her to find out what had happened, she turned, her eyes red and moist. "Go back t' yer posts...d'ye hear me?" The men stared at her looking unsure and she snapped at them. "Would ye piss off!? I've already told ye yer orders....now do it an' leave me be!"

 

She turned without another word and headed to her apartment. Once inside she slammed the door with brute force and screamed, throwing her hat across the room. Stalking to the table she threw everything to the floor with another enraged scream and slammed her fists upon it and then collapsed to the floor on her knees, weeping. From her pocket she drew a small chain locket and held it tight as her tears streamed down her face. In a sobbing voice she spoke.

 

"Th-they feckin' embarrassed me, Tomas....they feckin' treated me like I was no' even there. I could ha' slit their throats.....I still want t'." Her body was shaking as she tried to catch her breath and kissed the locket with her tear stained face. "Piss on this shite job, Tomas.....piss on it t' all o' th' hells."

 

Leaning back against the sofa she clutched the locket in her hands and closed her eyes, weeping and trying to decide what her next move would be.

[Melodia]

-One Week Following Drowning Wench Encounter-

Melodia laid the knife onto the table with a straight face, missing any expression of glee, fear, or otherwise. She looked at the assortment of instruments there and wondered why Ramsay's influence was still so strong when she had hated him so much.

 

Small to medium sized hammers next to two different daggers and a small asortment of knives. A chain sat at the end and she stood from her kneeling position, looking at herself in the mirror, adorned in a black tunic and dark gray pants. Not the typical uniform for a Yellowjacket.

 

But tonight she was off duty and was no Yellowjacket. She was her old self again. The woman she'd left behind on that beach among the dead. And tonight she was going to show Kink that she was not some pushover in a bar...not some confused woman with an addled brain.

 

With that, she stepped out of the apartment, prepared for her second meeting with the runner.

[Coatleque]

Long curtains were drawn back from the thin, wood-framed glass doors. Coatleque slowly opened them and stepped onto the small balcony. There was a breeze tonight which caught her gown, blowing it sideways. The glow of the streetlamps below reflected off glassy eyes. To anyone who may have seen her silhouette against the darkness, she may have seemed as some mournful spirit high above. It had been over a week since he had left for Coerthas. Days since she had heard any word.

 

She had moved her room at the Inn to the northern side, and also paid a little more now for the privilege of the balcony overseeing the gate below. It was a small overlook, with barely enough depth for one person to stand, let alone the small chair she had placed there as well. Upon this she sat as she leaned and looked over the ledge towards the gate until her eyes became heavy.

 

Still no news. No messenger. Nobody came. Her arms crossed each other leaning on the ledge as her forehead met them in prayer. She offered her supplications on his behalf once more, as she had done each night since his leaving.

 

To Halone, to keep the chill of Coerthas away from his heart.

To Rhalgr, that his enemy would meet its end swiftly at his hands.

To Menphina, that he would not forget her words at their parting.

To Llymlaen, that she would guide him back safely to her.

To Althyk, that she would herself be able to bear the toll of days.

And to Nymeia that their story would not end here and now in tragedy.

 

Not till she had finished did she allow herself to drift once more to sleep. Still sitting, vigilant, waiting for her love's safe return.

[Kage]

Putting on the surcoat was like a fantasy but it still felt as if his dreams were far and large away. For some reason it felt as it did before... before when he was a Blade.

 

Nothing was the way it was before. Back then. Was it always going to be like this? This sense of longing and forlorn? Even when he thought he was happy with his personal life, he still felt empty. Even now. Just as he had when he was a Blade.

 

Clenching his eyes, Kage took out the linkpearls of which he seldom ever used. He pinched and rolled them between his fingers contemplating what he felt.

 

"What's the point of having these? Just to be reminded that I'm just an outcast in the groups? I don't belong..."

 

His thoughts ended as he opened his eyes. With a deep inhale, he gently set them on the floor. Standing up he crunched the pearls underneath his boots.

 

It did nothing. Nothing about how he felt changed. Letting out a sigh, he got a broom and dustpan, proceeding to clean up the mess. He needed to get to his post. Whether or not he had the company of other Sworn or Paladins, it didn't change his feelings. His sense of forlorn.

[B'ren Lyrgh]

Hell hath no fury

 

"Like a woman’s scorn…." B’ren finished in his head walking away from the Grindstone finishing match. The Roegadyn woman, Obsidian Hornet, had won it breaking Howl’s arm in three places. Brutal, but effective. Howl’s dancing feet weren’t quiet enough to escape the Hornet’s sting it seemed. Growing up B’ren had been told women have no REAL place in fighting and to let the other men protect them and be the back up. Now, of course, those particular men were put right in their place soon after but it always stuck with the Miqo’te.

 

 

Never underestimate who you fight, not even a woman. One wrong turn and her heels will be in your eye with you begging for mercy. “And to think, I may have to fight her next week. Twelve watch over me, heh.” It wouldn’t be long before he reached the Knuckles, ready to finally take a moment of rest. But it wasn’t before placing a wrapped book by Berrod’s room did he do so. 

[Jancis]

((Said I could do whatever I wanted to him. Lalala))

 

Jancis gratefully sat on the small bed in the equally small inn room. Her gil was spent. After Hornet had become champion (with a small congratulations), the conjurer had assisted Oscare back to Ul'dah. Laying down she stared at the ceiling for a minute before falling asleep recalling that she forgot to leave the man's glasses.

 

Earlier...

 

The Goblet had not been far, but the Quicksand was closer and they were both exhausted in mind and body. Jancis had enough gil to get the man a generous room at the Hourglass with a basin and large bed that would easily fit more than two people. The sheets were linen and soft, the pillows of down, and the stuffing of the matress a mix of padded blankets and fleece. It was warm and inviting in more ways than one.

 

Keeping the lights dim, she left him for awhile with a washcloth and a hot bucket of water to wash himself off as she found a large night shirt to buy on the strip. Granted it turned out to be too big, but it served its purpose to get the highlander out of the grim-clad and blood-soaked garments.

 

He had been so shaken up, and his violent outburst was even more concerning, that he stayed quiet even as she helped him wash his hair and put him to bed. Why she did not know; it was so unlike the man. As if he wasn't in control of himself...

 

She left a note before retiring to her own room:

Oscare,

 

The room comes with a meal. Pray eat when you awaken; you need your strength.

 

~Jancis

[Whittledown]

Champion.

 

She had been called that at the Grindstone before but it didn't feel right until now. She had fought to earn that right. She fought three men, defeated three men. The first two with her axe, the last with her bare hands. She made a mental note to check in on Howl. Upon reflection her violence had been perhaps a bit too brutal and she wanted to make sure that she hadn't done any lasting damage to the miqo'te.

 

Check on Howl. Punch Oscare right in his stupid face. What the hell was wrong with him? The moment his wrist started glowing she assumed she would hear the call for disqualification but it never came. Instead he tried to kill her. Being a killer herself she knew what attempted murder looked like. And that blow from his axe would have ended her life if she hadn't thrown herself out of the way just enough to take the blow to her shoulder instead of her head. Still, she ended the fight and knocked him cold into the dirt.

 

That's probably what made her go after Howl so viciously in the next fight. Her rage. Twelve bless that she had the brief clarity to shed her armor and axe. If she'd had weapon in hand who knows what she would have done to him. She could have killed him and lost her own life in the repercussions. And if she had, she would have missed him.

 

He had come for her. Gharen. The last person she expected to see and he was there to watch her become a champion. All anger was washed away in a moment as she rushed to him, her heart leaping into her throat at even the most simple of conversations, the most casual of contact.

 

The went to the Quicksand, shared a drink. He took orange juice. As the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in she had taken him to a room at the Hourglass and laid with him there until morning. A perfect end to the day. A perfect start to the next. She had never felt more victorious in her life than she did just then.

 

Victory, real victory, was so precious and rare that when it came she never expected it. But now she was there. Proven on the battlefield. Her skills known to be the greatest. Her man by her side to cheer for her and make all the pain and rage melt away. A perfect victory.

[Oscare]

"A failure. This is unacceptable."

Oscare lays flat on the medical bed of his free company's clinic. After resting up in the room he was so generously offered by Jancis, Oscare had a little too many things to consider.

 

B'ren had already done away with Oscare's Warrior soulstone, but that didn't make Oscare any easier about things. He needed to better his soul and body, so the next time he beserks, he can take control of it. It'd make stronger, not a monster. Embrace the beast, accept the anger, turn it into fury. Not raw rage. All things he learned through the village that accepted him to teach him.

 

Now that leaves Oscare with one last thing. Jancis. He grabs a sheet and starts scribbling.

[111]

Natalie sighs as she adjusts a small iron disk in the light of a sunrise. Things had become so complicated lately. She had thought returning to the Sultansworn would restore some stability in her life, but instead it had only complicated things further. This issue with Osric and the Red Wings was quickly getting out of hand, and the more she and Crofte dug, the more suspicious things they found. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an official investigation against the group, but that was looking more likely every day.

 

She sighs again, tying a bit of string to a metal rod. In the midst of all this, those damn Limsian sea dogs had to choose now of all time to cause trouble here on the mainland. She shakes her head sadly as she studies the cliffside, eyeing the Hornet's nest which had appeared two weeks ago. She'd been content to leave them be, much like the Limsian pirates, until one of them stung her yesterday while she was gardening. Now they must be elimnated.

 

Natalie makes a few more adjustments, chuckling evily. Things hadn't been all bad. There were new faces at their house now, Honzo, Iron... faces that hid secrets. Though secrets were no stranger to their house, and they were pleasant enough. Even came to help her when she was attacked the other night. Natalie screws a small cap onto a metal nib, assasins, she mused. Invoking the god of death none the less.

 

Assasins...

 

She frowns as she makes some final adjustments, lining up the hornet's next between a series of small metal poles.

 

Why would anyone ever want to assasinate her?

 

She nods to herself as she steps back, slipping on a pair of ear protectors, she's always tried to live her life in a way that avoids conflict with others. Maybe they had the wrong person?

 

She pulls the cable and an echoing boom resounds though the neighborhood, prompting the sleeping birds to take to the sky, and the sleeping residents to open their windows and begin shouting insults her way. Loudest of all are the ones coming from inside the house.

 

"Hmm... I think that woke up Porkchop."

 

She rolls her eyes, can't they see she's doing the community a service? Some people just can't think of the big picture. She peers up to the cliffside to study her handiwork... and it was a little too far to the left. Perhaps these cannon just weren't accurate enough.

 

"Maybe I shouldn't use cannon balls for pest control anyway..." She sighs, "It's a bit excessive isn't it... I should have picked something more suited to the task."

 

"KAGEEEEEE!" She shouts through their window, "WHERE DID YOU PUT THE GRAPESHOT?"

[Lady Rivienne]

"How do you feel?" The voice resonates from behind her, and soon, accompanied by the flipping of paperwork in his hands. Scratches, from a quill, are made unto the documentation on his desk. His assistant was taking notes while he surveyed her.

 

"My body has recovered well after a full moon cycle, the wounds no longer carry the reminder of an ache," Rivienne had been sitting at the opposite side of his mahogany desk, watching him as he walked about, though did not share a gaze, yet. He was frowning some, concern was etched on his features.

 

"That is not what I meant, Maiden. Though according to this report, your injuries have indeed healed, miraculous, that. The rest of you, has it mended?" He finally reached for the spine of his seat and pulled it back. Upon seating himself, a fist cushioned his chin.

 

She sets her gaze downward and does not answer immediately, but Rivienne knew his patience was not to be tried so easily. "If you speak of that distraction, worry not, you will no longer hear of him. In regards to what happened in Coerthas -- I am still recovering from that blow." Steely was her gaze when it met his, and under the caress of shadow, her features appeared grim.

 

"I am well aware that you wish to use my knowledge of Coerthas for this assignment, but I don't think I am well prepared for venture there, again." She confessed, and it made his frown deepen. Discomfort was obvious in her posture, the tone of her voice; her body language spoke of worry and, perhaps, a touch of fear.

 

"You were given a direct order, Maiden, your evaluation has proven that you are fit, and right of mind, to continue. What the Ixal are doing, the activity happening here is somehow mirrored there as well, according to a few sources. This has caused concern, you and I both know the importance in preserving the peace." He sat back, watching her features, reading her like a volume.

 

"As do all Serpents," Rivienne whispered; her body was tense and thoughts of what took place, on the snow-kissed fields, replayed horrible images on the reel of her mind.

"This won't be a personal adventure of yours, and this isn't a punishment for your disappearing act before. You are one of the few that can infiltrate a camp, under such conditions, without being seen; such skills are crucial for this mission. I need you to monitor them, track down any strange behavior to its source. I have a man out there ready to receive you and Avenger without drawing attention." He paused and leaned over the desk, making sure their eyes did not tear away from each other.

 

"I am well aware the hornet's nest you stirred. I rather not see you clinging to life, again."

[Whittledown]

Invisible and silent a single wisp of air moved against the current of wind. It had news to deliver. From the Goblet it carried the words spoken at Raubahn's Salute far from the speakers. Far from the woman that it had been assigned to follow. The wind, unthinking, knew only it's task. The value of the words it carried and the consequences of the delivery were things it had no conception of. No means to question if the thing should be done. It could only do it.

 

It impossibly wound it's way higher and higher into the mountains of Abalathia's Spine. It swept along high stone walls before slipping through a lattice covered window. The room it entered was warm and dark. Coals that ever-burned in the fireplace provided a dull heartbeat of light to the room, a heartbeat that mirrored the one who had kindled the endless fire long ago. The breath of wind carried it's words along the floor, then curling up the leg of the elegantly carved chair and to the statuesque woman who sat watching the coals.

 

The message was delivered in a whisper and the cruel lips of the woman split into a smile.

[Askier]

"This sucks." Askier grumbled as he drove the shovel into the earth again and again. The miqo'te was in a hole almost as deep as he was tall and just as wide. A canvas tarp flapped overhead, held aloft by four poles at the corners and a series of ropes. A hyur sat beside the hole taking a sip from a water skin.

 

"What else should you be doing?" The hyur asked as he swallowed his mouthful of water.

 

"Either a beautiful woman or building stuff in my workshop." Askier shot back, throwing a shovel full of dirt outside the hole.  "Hells, anything would be better than digging a latrine in the middle of the desert."

 

The hyur blinked and rolled his eyes.

 

"Wasn't meant to be a serious question mate." The hyur replied.

 

 Askier grumbled and kept digging. Not nine bells ago, Askier had been extremely satisfied as he had left his room and Ashwynn in it. Then he had run into Kahn'a. Kahn'a who had waited in the Red Wings HQ lobby for him to come out. Askier had just wanted to get some tea. What he had gotten was an earful from his superior and a stern lecture regarding his recent behavior with his gun arm, followed by orders to head to Western Thanalan, to this mine, and report in for duty. So Askier had and here he was.

 

Askier brushed sweat from his brow. He couldn't be angry with Kahn'a. Kahn'a was just an officer doing his job and giving orders. Askier was slightly annoyed due to the timing and how completely unprepared he had been for Kahn'a tongue lashing, but that wasn't relavant.

 

Askier tossed another shovel load of dirt and sighed. 

 

"You sure I can't just use a couple explosives and blow a hole for the latrine?"

 

Askier paused and looked at the hyur, who simply shook his head. 

 

"Too risky with all the mine tunnels around and below us. You dig like everyone else."

 

Askier sighed and went back to digging.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Franz woke up in the morning with a horrible throbbing in his head. It was safe to assume it had to have been whatever Natalie had poured into the shot glasses. It certainly wasn't something for public consumption. 

 

"No wonder she always gets hangovers..." As he stood up, the room around him wobbled for just a moment, and it took some time to adjust to standing and walking. Massaging his temples a little to try to ease the pain, he noted it was at least a quiet morning. The cannons had either not been used, or perhaps he was too drunk and tired to care if that had been. Regardless, it was time for some morning training and then he'd go to town later. Hopefully a run would burn off whatever alcohol was left.

 

 

*a couple bells later*

 

 

The run had only made it worse. A very grumpy Franz had returned to the home in the Goblet, feeling worse than before. He growled a little "What the hells did we drink?!" Of course there would be a label on the bottle. That would have been the case if most Eorzeans were literate. Instead, he was left with the emptied bottle of something foul-smelling. His only guess was that it was related to Qiqirn Firewater.

 

It would be a long day. Might as well get something nice to eat in town and hope it would pass.

[Whittledown]

"So what are you going to do?"

 

"Destroy her."

 

"How? She bested you the last time you confronted her."

 

"That was years ago. We were but children then."

 

"And what makes this time different?"

 

"I stayed with you and learned. She fled and thinks she is forgotten."

 

"She is protected."

 

"Not nearly so well as she believes."

 

"So you will target the man first?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Vengeance for the wrongs of old."

 

"Visited one-thousand times over."

 

"You've grown so strong. You are my true pride."

 

"Thank you mother."

[Whittledown]

Dawn had crested and the cave groaned with the shifting of matter above it and the flow of the wind through tight spots. The great beast lowered it's head, peering into the half-light just outside the cave mouth. It would happen soon. The happless prey would stumble just close enough. They would hear the thunder, but the lightning would be far to swift to avoid.

 

Motion. The beast sprang into action, four powerful hooves carried it swiftly across the earth. A moment later it burst into the sunlight, it's great shaggy head lowered and it's horns glimmering like the blades of the reapers on scythe. The target was far too slow and it was over in an instant....

 

"Ow!" Hornet hopped on one foot in her bedroom holding her ankle where her tiny baby auroch, Granite, had slammed into her head first. The tiny bull sat on it's haunches, dazed from the impact for a moment before it looked up at Hornet.

 

"Snrffl!" Announced the beast, gloating over it's kill.

 

"You little butt." Hornet grinned down at her new pet as he clambered to his hooves and trotted purposefully back under Hornet's bed to patiently wait for the next moment to strike.

[Coatleque]

Coatleque stood quietly in the training yard, sizing up her opponent. The unfortunate wooden dummy which had born the brunt of her frustrations tonight stood silently leering at her. Some deep gashes were already carved into the sides from some earlier maneuvers. There was a reason she preferred to train alone.

 

Tonight she was trying her best to distract herself. She had stood silently near the bar earlier and heard a long portion of their conversation. She knew the woman saw her as well. The way she just cozied right up to Warren, it was as if she was putting on a show. Specifically trying to drive a wedge between them. Natalie's timing only made things worse. Coatleque couldn't be mad at Mcbeef, though. She had done nothing wrong in this case.

 

But that woman, holding his hand like that. It irked her. Probably more-so when he did nothing to avoid it. She sighed and looked around the yard once more trying to clear her head, to focus on her maneuvers. Torchlight from behind and before her competed in the now chilling breeze to cast long shadows across the path in front of her.

 

Her sword's tip slid across the sand in front of her before she raised it once more parallel to the ground. With a cry she lunged forward once more with a hard feint to the right. Now entirely focused her feint ended with a reverse overhead spin as she unconsciously weaved the aether around her into her own momentum. Circling around the sword met the side of the dummy with a sickening crack followed by splintering wood.

 

She stepped back and wretched her sword from the dummy whose top half was now precariously leaning to the side, having nearly been split in half. "Gods damn it!", she exclaimed as she staggered backwards, trying to catch her breath. "That's coming out of my pay..."

[Warren Castille]

A letter was waiting for Coatleque the following day.

 

Ser Crofte,

 

While we appreciate you leaving a letter accepting responsibility for the destruction of one of our training dummies, we have already spoken with the one responsible. He insisted you were going to claim it was your doing and that you would request the cost of the repairs be docked from your pay. This will be unnecessary as the free paladin in question has already footed the bill. You keep strange, brutish company but you get results, so far be it from me to chastise you.

 

Respectfully,

 

Instructor Simmons

Inventory Supervisor

[Berrod Armstrong]

Berrod Armstrong approached the door to the headquarters of the Astral Agents, juggling quite a few parcels in his large arms. Ground provisions! Popotoes, sweet popotoes and a few other common edible roots. He had promised Drystfarr the bartender that he'd keep the place stocked with stew for a few days to give him a break from cooking. While the Sea-Wolf didn't seem keen on the lack of variety, stew was all Berrod was particularly good at cooking. His attempt to bake bread had produced fortress-worthy bricks and his grilled steaks all seemed to have earned the ire of a thaumaturge. The highlander had even been forbidden from making salads, due to an unfortunate incident involving a mixup of kale and poisonous nettle. Nevertheless, a promise was a promise. 

 

Carefully he shifted all the items to one arm and opened the door with the other. The moment he stepped in, a familiar tingle at the back of his neck led him to the instant belief that there were eyes on him. Quickly he spun to see who was behind him -- but there was no one at the gate, nor in the street. There was a Brass Blade patrol several yalms away, but both their backs were to him as they moved south. With a slow exhale, Berrod grumbled to himself, irritated by his paranoia. There was work to be done -- he couldn't afford to be jumping at each whisper of wind across the back of his neck. Briskly, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. No one there, nothing to worry about.

 

 

http://i.imgur.com/rO0XENf.jpg[/img]

[cuideag]

What are you doing?

 

The question was always the same, but the voice who asked it changed and fluctuated to -- what could it be, mood? Whim? Whatever it was, it was above all unwelcome. It may have explained the drink in her hand: some frozen concoction an unnatural shade of blue and violet which had been, at one point, set aflame by the small miqo'te who had grudgingly brought it out to her. It was just the fourth one in... probably so many bells? Probably. The sun was still somewhere overhead so she could not worry too much of that. Its placement was, as it stood, of no importance.

 

Delial sipped and nursed, helping along the never-quite-strong-enough haze of casual inebriation. The beach stretched wide on either side of her, broad spans of pristine white sand mostly untouched but for a the few faint tracks of those who came and went. Specifically:  herself, and the lighter patter of that miqo'te waiter. There were probably others, too, but as she could not see them nor the creatures who left them behind, she cared not to think on them too hard. Out of sight was out of mind and Delial, for once, was happier for it.

 

Yes, yes. But what are you doing?

 

Father asked her once when he first caught wind of the witch. Then he asked his dear wife, the flame of his life, the mother of his children. The woman could only smile, of course, and nod away his worries. There was naught to fear, of course, and little to worry about. The Gods were always kind to those devoted and little Delial would be no different.

 

Brother, too, had found the question on their tongues, both of them: Westor with rage in his eyes, Harvard with terror. What are you doing? Can't you see? What do you hope to achieve? She thought on it more and more as the days passed, fighting the feeling of being adrift with every onze of strength she could muster. Indignation curled her lip and she silently snarled at the sea as to prove something, but the waves would carry on, carry off, wash away everything they touched.