Writing Challenge! (Second)

[Warren Castille]

Here I go.

 

 

 

Sunlight filtered in through the windows, the illuminated rectangle slowly crawling across the floor indicating that the sun had only just begun its shift for the day. Franz was awake as usual and enjoying the brief moments of silence he'd come to appreciate in the often-disastrous wake of his newfound companions.

 

He was briefly distracted by what he had settled on for his breakfast. Dried and cut grains? Some sort of process made it crunchy but edible, and with sufficient sweetening and an ample supply of aldgoat's milk it wasn't awful. It was far from the variety of a proper Garlean breakfast; Gone were the finely-prepared eggs and meats and breads, missing were the spices that made Garlean cuisine what it was. He'd traded that, somehow, for cold rice and milk.

 

What was he doing in Eorzea? It was not his home. It was not where he was raised, where he was built. He owed nothing to the land, and he certainly didn't owe anything to its people. The old thoughts ran through his mind as he absently spooned another bite into his mouth, but there was something missing to connect them to his mind and heart.

 

The miqo'te woman. An antagonist from the get-go, more interested in picking fights and teasing than getting anything done. Her mate, the one full of regret and indecision. Somehow he'd come to bunk with these two? Had he met them on a battlefield prior to Carteneau he knew he would have cloven them in two and been onto the next group of would-be heroes. They were precisely what the Empire wanted to exterminate.

 

...but that wasn't quite true, either. The woman's demeanor hid depth that Franz knew existed but he suspect she did not. The man's sorrows came from a source of wanting to have done the right thing. They were not simple-minded, they were complex. They were people.

 

Franz gazed absently off at the wall opposite him, at one of twenty-seven pictures of the Sultana that graced their humble abode. He reconsidered, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, that Eorzea wasn't the sort of place the Empire painted it as. For all of their faults, and all of his own issues, the place and its people were growing on him. In time, he wondered if he might even consider these people true frie-

 

BOOM

 

One of the cannons from the front yard had gone off. Snapped back to his interrupted meal, Franz was dimly aware of yelling in the front yard.

 

"Load the rest, Kage! That's the last time they pick at my garden! And wake Porkchop up, too! He can help!"

 

Or maybe not.

 

 

 

 

Not as long as I'd like but the scene sort of jumped out at me right away so I wanted to write it down before I forgot it. Feel free to judge.

[111]

Aya sighs and gives a pouting kick to one of the pebbles, sending it skittering across the beach. It had seemed like the perfect job, a short jaunt entertaining nobles on a luxury yacht cruising out of Vesper bay. It was a three day cruise, and she would have made more money on those three days than she would have in a month of serving ale in the Quicksand. She frowns and looks across the beach, “I could have bought so many shoes.”

 

The guests weren’t the only ones indulging though, the drunken captain had hit a sunken rock in the middle of the night, tearing a hole in the bottom of the boat.

 

They limped through the night, barely managing to run aground on this island, though only the twelve knew where they were now. She looks down at her stiletto heels, the heels just sinking into the sand, “Blah… who knows what the saltwater will do to the aldgoat leather.” She stifles a sob, “I just bought these, it’s not fair.”

 

Across the beach lie socialites in various states of shock, as if this was a thing that happened to other people. Currently they seemed more interested in fighting over the last of the food from the ship, untold luxurious delicacies spilled across the sand, already starting to rot outside of the cool confines of the ice crystal packed ships hold. Two men fought over a bottle of Ishgardian brandy worth more than Aya could make in a year, and she sighs lamenting what the dry sea breeze is doing to her skin.

 

Suddenly a scream pierces the air, a pair of monstrous claws emerge from the surf, grabbing the two men tussling over the bottle. People shriek and run off the beach as the giant crab brings its prey to its chittering maw. Aya rubs her forehead, “Why is life so unfair to me.” She gets up and stretches briefly, a series of a graceful movements that seem more like preparations for dance than battle. She runs towards the monster, through the panicked throng, her heels not seeming to slow her down. As she gets closer she scoops down and picks up a spar of wood, it is a remnant of the ship’s mast, one end a jagged break.

 

As she reaches the surf she tenses and then leaps, her form undergoing one lazy rotation in the air before she lands with the spar, point first, the jagged wood piercing the creatures thick skeleton and filling the air with yellow blood. “Don’t cry Aya…” She thinks as she looks down at the fluid soaking her clothes, “Maybe it will come out with a wash.” The creature collapses with a bubbling shriek, but after a moment attempts to regain its feet.

 

Aya bites her lip and looks down at her feet, “I *just* bought them.” With a growl she drives a heel downward into the thing’s brain, her heel snapping off inside its carapace. The crab shuddered for a moment, then finally collapsed.

 

She kicks off her ruined shoes and hops off the crab, plucking the bottle from the blubbering men.

 

“Please gentlemen.” She gives her best professional smile, “Leave the refreshments to the staff.”

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Warren, it was beautiful. Let's see if I can get this right.

 

Episode 1: 8/4/2014

 

 

It had been another late, sleepless night. Warren stood, brooding, at the same pillar he always did at the Quicksand, trying to cover the little CC and WC in a heart that had been carved in once again. Every single time he'd gotten it filled in, replastered, touched up to make the pillar spotless, another one would pop up the next day, as if the pillar demanded the carving be there.

 

"Gods, is it that obvious...?" Warren would ask himself that question when the carving would reappear again. Seeing the sun rise, he departed from the Quicksand for a few bells. It was time for his morning run around Ul'dah, followed by a quick touch-up to make sure his surcoat looked proper. The pillar had once again been repaired, and this time, he hoped it would stay that way. He didn't want Lady Crofte to have any further looks, as it seemed all of the patrons knew exactly who the carving was for. "When did they even have the time to carve such a thing?"

 

The run was nice. It allowed him to unwind and not worry about anything. What the day would bring, what kinds of trouble would happen around the city, his thoughts of Ser Crofte. Gods. The moment he thought of her his face flushed red. As he finished his run, he quickly prepared for the rest of the day, and made his way back to the Quicksand just in time to see a person hunched over by the pillar. Giggling. There was a faint scratching sound.

 

Warren was a man of few words during business hours, but he had to ask. Walking up slowly behind the small lalafellin man by the pillar, he leaned down, whispering. "What're you carving there?" The whole city could have been awoken from the shriek the man let out, having been discovered. In a panic, the lalafell turned around to face Warren. "I...It..uh...it's. IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!"

 

Surely the whole city would soon see the lalafell scampering out of the Quicksand for his life, being chased by an angry highlander, sword and shield out.

 

 

Episode 2: 8/5/2014

 

 

 

The sounds of the clanking armor echoed through the small alleyway. After nearly running around the entire city again, Warren had cornered the small man. “There’s *huff* no where *huff* left to run.” For a lalafell, the little guy certainly had speed and stamina. Warren came with a few fulms, catching his breath. “Have you been the one carving up the Quicksand’s pillar?” It wasn’t meant to be intimidating. At least, not entirely.

 

The lalafell looked up in horror as he noticed his path of escape was a dead end, and the only exit was blocked. He fell to his knees in fright. “PLEASE DON’T LOCK ME UP! I SWEAR! IT WAS MY FIRST TIME! IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!” Warren was a little confused. “You mean to say you aren’t the one that’s been carving various initials into the pillar?” He was gruff, but he wasn’t without reason. The lalafell looked up again, sniffling, “of course I’m not! I can’t even reach some of the places it’s been carved!” Warren knew he was telling the truth. But what did he mean by “his first time”?

 

Warren’s expression softened just slightly and he sighed. “Let’s go. I may not have the authority to make an arrest, but I can certainly have you apologize to Momodi for defacing her establishment. The walk back was very quiet. As they reentered the Quicksand, Warren bent down to see the incomplete carving. A faint heart had been carved, but work on any letters had not.

 

If he’d simply ran faster in the morning. Or gotten dressed faster. Or simply stayed at the Quicksand instead. Warren felt guilty that there had been an opportunity in the first place, as if it were his fault. After sheepishly apologizing to Momodi as well, he began to return to his post, immediately noticing a much larger, much more detailed heart had been carved at a spot on the pillar right above where he normally stood. “Menphina have mercy….” Warren tried his best to ignore it. The giant, fancily carved heart, with CC and WC carved into it even deeper than any previous attempt.

 

Warren gave one of the most pitiable looks he could to Momodi. With a small glimmer in her eyes, realizing he’d noticed the handiwork, she smiled and said, “you know I won’t reveal who did that.” A playfully mischievous grin on her face.

 

It would be a long day. A very long day, indeed.

 

 

Episode 3: 8/7/2014

 

 

 

As the morning dragged on, more and more people began to enter the Quicksand. Warren did his best to stand tall, upright, and serious. If he pretended it wasn’t a problem, perhaps the other patrons within the Quicksand would do the same. It wasn’t as if they pretended they hadn’t seen the large carved heart, but more that they thought nothing of it. Of course, with every new person that walked in, Warren would become more and more embarrassed of the entire ordeal.

 

As it become mid-day, he heard the familiar jingle of jewelry and accessories, saw the swaying hips and long, blonde, hair hair, and realized that Aya had come in. Naturally, she walked right over, giving a slightly surprised gasp, obviously fake. “Oh my, Warren! How bold!” she gave him a small wink, knowing full-well he’d had nothing to do with the big heart, but the reaction was worth every gil.

 

Standing in the place Warren had been was now a dalamud-red-faced Highlander. Was it always this warm in the Quicksand? Had his armor always felt this heavy? Why were the braids of his hair so tight today? He could FEEL them! The very thought that everyone in the Quicksand knew his feelings towards Coatleque, coupled with the now-giant carved heart above his head was simply too much.

 

His eyes widened just slightly, and he heard a slight ringing. “Oh, it’s getting smaller” were the last words he said as he hit the ground, fainting. With a thud, he was passed out.

 

 

[Warren Castille]

And here I thought the culprit was Aya!

 

Good job, though. It's definitely in line with the character and his motivations. More lighthearted than my usual fair, but that makes it an excellent aside.

 

OSCARE ROLL MORE I WANT MORE OF THIS.

[Unnamed Mercenary]

And here I thought the culprit was Aya!

 

Good job, though. It's definitely in line with the character and his motivations. More lighthearted than my usual fair, but that makes it an excellent aside.

 

OSCARE ROLL MORE I WANT MORE OF THIS.

 

>_> <_>_>

 

...we could always continue with what we have. I'm sure I find a way to make it more ridiculous.

[Kage]

Inb4 there was always more than one culprit.

[Verad]

((I'm sorry Verad.))

 

As I said, easy-mode! Very good job.

 

It'll be a little while before I can respond in kind, so hang in there.

[Melodia]

Knight! This is for you!  (I hope I did okay! :blush:)

**********************************************************

 

The winds were favorable tonight, a low breeze, not creating much distraction with the trees, but strong enough to cover her tracks. Kiht looked down at ground, placing her hand into the imprint she had come across. Even with the dusk growing darker, she could tell it was what she'd thought: Ixal. She frowned and the spear across her back felt heavier.

 

It looked likely to be a long night.

 

She moved forward, her boots making soft, almost inaudible steps in the leafy undergrowth. The light crunches made were eased by the wind, and she offered a simple prayer that they would hold until she could locate the source of the print.

 

As she crossed the crest of a hill there he was. And alone. A grin flashed across her lips and she looked down. It was her lucky night. Scooting down the hill silently she approached the small fire, the Ixal had drawn and was sitting next to. As it appeared this one was alone, she wanted this quiet, but still needed some certainty.

 

And the wind did its job.

 

Circling around the face him, he still hadn't moved, nor had he seen her until she stood directly across, spear drawn, staring him down, an angry look in here eyes, exponentially stronger with the fire between them. 

 

"Are you alone?" Her voice was loud enough where he could hear and stern. Her breathing was calm waiting for his response, and her ears listened for noise, lest it be a trap. The Ixal nodded his head and began to slowly stand, trying to back away.  Why he was alone mattered not to Kiht and she leapt quickly over the flames, the spear raised overhead and once close enough on the descent, drove the blade into the Ixal's chest. The lone beast stumbled and dropped to the ground, gurgling slightly before his death. Kiht pulled the spear from him and returned it to her back. She looked down and shook her head.

 

"Stop coming to the Shroud." She said it to the dead creature before herand meant it for all of the Ixal. Snuffing out the flames of the fire, she moved quickly into the woods, and back to the night and eventually home.

[Aya]

Natalie stretched her arms high above her head.  The morning sun always felt so good: the way it swept away the chill of the desert night, burning it away with a radiance befitting the Sultana herself.  It was a wonderful Ul'dahn day, of course it was always a wonderful Ul'dahn day for Natalie, and she had things to do: like wipe the grin off of her face, or maybe bask in the sun all day.

 

Oh, she wanted to, of course, but there was such good reason for the grin!  She couldn't help but think of all the people there were to see, and all of the days there were to ruin!  So many plans to hatch, and even more fun, to foil!  Rather than diminish, the Cheshire-like grin grew more and more as her mind meandered back through the last few days: memories of weddings called off, babies left crying, and Miqo'te children now afraid of milk.  It was like a special blend of catnip for the soul, a special elixir that reached deep into the heart of Clan McBeef, warming the heart, and satisfying the soul.

 

Look, things had kind of sucked for McBeef and Company latley, but really none of that should matter when there were smiles to wipe away, and good feelings to quash!  She reached back and scratched her rear idly.  Then a little more ~ it felt really good!  "What a perfect day to be Sultan Sworn!"  she thought to herself beaming that infectious grin across the court yard.  But in an instant, the grin suddenly became a look of confusion as she tilted her head, scratching a little harder.  "Or was it a Brass Blade..."  she blinked, then tilted her head the other way.  "It doesn't really matter does it? There are so many people who's days I can ruin!" The grin returned!

 

She'd strapped on her finest red armor, and then added, for flair, her favorite masked beret pulled over her head and eyes, it always seemed to help clear up the confusion.  Natalie looked back over her shoulder, spotting the smiling blue-haired Miqo'te man in the window.  She grinned, kicking her foot back and offering a little finger-wave.  Kage smiled a smile filled with the warmth of a dutiful certainty: the whole city might love Ser Natalie, but he loved her the most! She turned back down the road into the goblet, beginning to merrily skip along her way into town.

 

 

*******

 

"How better to start a day!?" Natalie thought to herself, as she grinned from ear-to-ear with a delightful mischief.  The small Miqo'te boy looked up at the woman bent over him; his eyes swelled with fright.  "You shouldn't play with that stuff - don't you know catnip is poisonous?" she exclaimed in such a tone of serious alarm.  The boy screamed, staring at the clump of plants squeezed so tightly in his little fist.  In a moment he had dropped them, and scampered away.  Natalie picked up the leaves, shoving them in her face, and rubbing her nose and cheeks against them with a sense of thrill and delight.  "ITS SUCH AN AMAZING DAY!" she yelled for anyone within hearing distance.

 

It was hard enough to avoid running into things while wearing the mask.  Having her face stuffed full of delicious, wonderful, and all-around amazing catnip made it that much harder.  She barely noticed as her hips and tail bumped into the cart, though her thoughts sprang into characteristically rapid action: "Oh what wa... I LOVE CATNIP!"

 

The little wheeled flower cart had been bumped loose, and began rolling down  the hill.  The flower girl let out a little yelp as it raced away from her, her ire immediately turning to Ser Oblivious McBeef.  The cart rumbled, and trundled down a path, heading into the city.  And Oblivious McBeef stayed true to her name.  "CATNIP!"

 

*******

 

Before the Gate of Nald, the shadows of the day seemed to grow deeper and longer.  An unnatural chill filled the air as a small, black tear in reality popped into existence.  It stretched and wobbled, growing slowly taller, and taller, until a dark shadowy-figure emerged from within, a visage of pure enmity, with an enveloping aura growing to monstrous proportion.

 

His voice roared with malevolence, uttered at Unicronian depths, causing the massive opened doors of the gate to quake and tremor, "I...." The eyes of the visage shot open, sewing terror among the guards, who clattered and clamored from their posts as quickly as their legs would carry them, "Am Jin'li... and this time, I shall not fail!"  The voice began to laugh, a maniacal menace that seemed to echo throughout ever alley, every street, every courtyard and hallway of the city. 

 

The Sultana suddenly shot up from her morning manicure.  "Did you hear that?!" she cried to her Vizier, her eyes were startled, her lips trembled in fear.  Her vizier, ever stoic and secure, nodded with solemnity, "Do not worry, Your Grace, I am sure General Aldynn will have Ser McBeef on it, immediately."  The Sultana let out a deep breath, her content smile returning. 

 

The shadowy visage of the resurrected Jin'li fell to silence, as the horrible, bellowing, roar of a laugh drew to an end.  He grinned with confidence, his eyes falling back to earth, resting upon the open, unguarded gate.  The only sound in the darkened air was the light rattle of wood upon paving stones.  The sound grew strangely louder, as Jin'li's eyes narrowed in curiosity, his celebration of imminent victory paused for a moment.

 

*******

 

The Sultan Blade, Brass Sworn giggled maniacally as she popped the chocolate into her mouth.  She chewed the delicious confection with an earnest affection, taking in the luscious flavors of the delicacy as they rushed through her body with a tingling energy.  She quickly popped another into her mouth, before rubbing her cheek against the ill-gotten catnip, purring with a contentment that the sound of wailing lovers walking their separate ways could not seem to penetrate.

 

*******

 

The shadow watched in amazement as the small flower cart trundled forward.  It had gained speed steadily as it made its way down every hill in the city, having spilled most of its contents of flowers it found itself filled now with an assortment of every variety of good available in the bazaar.  From linens, to jewelery, weapons, food, a large barrel of liquor, and a pot filled with gold. 

 

Jin'li rose to laugh once more, all of the might of Ul'dah, when faced with the power of the voidsent, could summon only a single lonely flower cart against him!  Just out of sight, as he reveled in the certainty of victory, a torch dropped by a fleeing guard rolled back and forth along the ramparts.  Pushed a little further by the monstrosity's wind-like guffaw, it plummeted, turning slowly in the air.

 

In the distance a woman was running toward the gate, passing through crowds of fleeing guards, she had tried to cut through the current, moving more quickly than a woman on heels should, long blonde hair trailing behind her.  A distinguished looking, white-haired Duskwight had just given up the chase.  Through ragged breaths, he sighed for his lost fortune, "My... imitation... fool's gold..."

 

"Noooooo!  That's Ma'am's ruuuuum....!" the blonde girl cried desperately, hand outstretched as if she could mentally stop the runaway cart in mid-flight.  In that instant her eye's opened wide with terror; not at the sight of the shadowy monstrosity threatening to envelope the entire gate, but instead at the bright flash of light, an eruption of fire as the torch fell squarely into the rambling cart, creating a veritable inferno as every flammable item within burst alight.

 

Jin'li's shade caught sight of the sudden threat at the very last moment.  His laugh ended with a throaty, "Uh... oh..." that shook the very ground.  As the cart reached him, the overheating barrel of Momodi's rum burst into a tremendous fireball.  The resulting cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, leaving behind only a badly scorched flower cart, carrying on its way out into the desert sands of Thanalan.

 

The blonde girl fell to her knees, crying in despair.  "Where will I ever get the gil to pay for this...."

 

******

 

The rug merchant let out a horrible cry of anguish as the billy club cracked against the back of his skull, "What do you think you're doing?! That hurt!!!"

 

"Just saying hello!" purred the grinning McBeef.  She shoved her face back into the mass of catnip with a satisfied grin.  "I really am the best Sultan Sworn..."

 

"I mean Brass Blade..."

 

"Best whatever.. I am just the best!" She grinned manically, purring into the catnip. 

 

 

The Sultana, then the city itself, sighed in relief, "Thank the Twelve for Ser McBeef..."

[111]

Natalie shifts in her sleep, mumbling "Muhaha... fear me mortals."

 

 

-----------------------------------

 

That was the best Aya, if only every day of nat's was so exciting. Oh wait they kind of are. Hydalyn preserve Ul'dah.

[Oscare]

I...

my poor challenge...

you guys are killing him... ;~;

 

[sad Trombone plays]

[Aya]

Natalie, that was the perfect Aya :-]

 

Thank you! I so enjoyed that! :D:D

 

(I've enjoyed the others too, I enjoy poor Warrens travails!)

[C'kayah Polaali]

A thousand thousand threads of smoke rose in the evening sky over Ul'dah. The air was bitingly cold, unseasonably so, and each of the city's inhabitants burned fires to stave it off. No breeze stirred the cold air, and the city's smokes mixed into a stale lens that drove people indoors and led those who ventured into the streets to don makeshift masks to try to filter out the corruption and ash.

 

Further in from the Gold Court, past the Path of Coin and angling off from Fish Street was a cramped alley. In the back, a lone Miqo'te curled around a tiny brazier, feeding pellets of charcoal into the fierce, bright fire in an attempt to stay warm. His clothes were good, but worn, and a well-loved lance leaned against the wall. He cursed softly as his fingers found nothing more in the little box he'd bought. It was going to get cold before the night was over.

 

What drove him out of his bed? Away from the company of the white-haired woman who shared his life. What spurred him to trade comfort for the chill of this alley, the tiny flame of this brazier? Was he dissatisfied with his life? Had it always been so? He remembered pain on the sands as he fought the other Wolf-tribe Tias for the title and priviledge he sought for his own. He remembered the warm touch of the females after he'd won. Why had he left that? Left them? For this sandy city? For the wine and the stories and the smokes? For a Hyur? Why, then, had he left her as well?

 

He remembered stories of men who always sought what they didn't have. They would gain lives that other men would be happy to live, and they would forsake them in the hunt for what could be. Those stories almost never ended well, and he knew it. Yet here he was, in this alley, staring at the last pellet of charcoal as it slowly grew darker, cooler. He could return right now. Return to his Hyur, to his bed, to warmth and comfort. Instead, he prodded at the pellet with the sharp point of a dagger, stirring it to a last flicker of heat. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth, pretending for a moment he was somewhere else.

 

The pellet went out. He looked up into the chill of the sky. The red, baleful eye of Moraig had just surmounted the sharp spire of Teleg Than. It was time. Rising to his feet, he took his lance and walked out of the alley into the broad street beyond. Facing him stood a small knot of people: A richly dressed Lalafell surrounded by men in browned-iron bearing swords. The Lalafell was young, looking almost childlike with his lack of beard, his soft limbs. Yet the Miqo'te knew that others had paid dearly for their mistake in thinking him weak. This was Benetua Ruranua, representative of Lolorito himself. The Lalafell covered his nose with a finely embroidered silk handkerchief and sniffed diffidently, an obvious affectation.

 

"Val Nunh", Benetua's voice was soft and quiet, and the Miqo'te had to strain to hear it. "Thank you for coming to speak with me tonight. I think you'll find my proposition... *interesting*..."

[Unnamed Mercenary]

I...

my poor challenge...

you guys are killing him... ;~;

 

[sad Trombone plays]

 

Hey! Warren and Franz's were perfectly IC. 

 

>_> <_ the franz one is practically canon already. we just need to know what he actually eats for breakfast.>

[111]

I...

my poor challenge...

you guys are killing him... ;~;

 

[sad Trombone plays]

 

Hey! Warren and Franz's were perfectly IC. 

 

>_> <_< The Franz one is practically canon already. We just need to know what he actually eats for breakfast.

 

More like cannon.

 

Heh.

[Warren Castille]

I...

my poor challenge...

you guys are killing him... ;~;

 

[sad Trombone plays]

 

Hey! Warren and Franz's were perfectly IC. 

 

>_> <_< The Franz one is practically canon already. We just need to know what he actually eats for breakfast.

 

Unintentional or not, I laughed.

[Val]

( C'kayah, yours was wonderful ;-; sadly I've never seen C'kayah IC, so.. .. I just kind of did what I could based on some research. I hope I didn't ruin him! *hides* )

 

C'kayah leaned back in his chair in the Quicksand, the right half of his lips curled into a smirk that showed off just the tip of his fang. His ears lifted slightly and he gave a small sniff, tossing his head aside in order to rid himself of the few tendrils of brown hair that impeded his visage.

 

"So, I brought the goods," he spoke to the midlander settled out across from him. C'kayah paused only to lift the glass of red wine to his lips and take a long, generous sip of its contents, "You got the money?"

 

Between the two sat a small package, looking very little like anything extraordinary. It was wrapped in brown shipping paper that the moogles were fond of using and held in place by a thin piece of rope. The package itself wasn't large by any means; one would easily be able to wrap their hand around its rectangular shape to get a good grip. The hyur did just that, stowing it away within the oversized sleeve of the shirt he wore and removing a small pouch in its stead. C'kayah reached across to grab the pouch, not daring to open it. He'd been in the business by now to know what the appropriate weight of a good bag of gil was.

 

"Pleasure doing business with you," he added, lifting the glass skyward in a silent toast to his business partner. With little to say, the merchant--or what C'kayah could assume had been a merchant--stood from the table and took his leave. The Miqo'te watched him leave out the side door and into the Steps of Thal. He assumed the man had other business in Pearl Lane or other such dubious areas of Ul'dah. 

 

He leaned back in the chair now, relaxing himself and perking his ears high to better listen in on the many conversations going on around him. It took a bit of practice and personal honing to be able to drown out all the background noise, but he did manage to pick up on a few of them. What he didn't need training for, however, was the undeniable sound of flesh coming in harsh contact with flesh that rang out the Quicksand. So abrupt and deafening was the sound that it brought all other noise to a silence. C'kayah lifted his head just in time to witness an ivory-haired midlander abruptly taking her leave from the tavern. Pity, he never managed to get a good look at her face.

 

"Princess! C'mon! She looks just like ya! That wouldn't even be considered cheatin' 'r nothin'! I'll be thinkin' 'bout ya th'whole time!" a voice called out after her. C'kayah turned his attention to a blonde-haired Miqo'te, now complete with a hint of red washing over the left side of his face. Her lover, no doubt. He watched as the Seeker chased out the door after her and soon found a particular blonde waitress meandering by. He offered a playful wink of his right eye as she drew near and lifted the glass to motion for a refill. She giggled and accepted the glass, then turned to retrieve the order with a particularly flirtatious sway of her hips that he was sure to notice. He did, and that fang from earlier soon showed itself again.

[Verad]

At first, Kage thought she was joking, but when Natalie held out the dress and the heels, he knew she was serious.

 

"Wh- it - I - " He stuttered, taking a step back as if the clothing might leap out and strangle him. Natalie followed suit, and Kage soon had very little space to flee. "It's - it's going to look so obvious though! They know who I am! I'm not even the right build!"

 

"I know!" She smiled, a hint of teeth cutting through at one side to resemble a pair of fangs. "It's the Hildibrand method, and it's perfect. You'll look obvious; you'll look so obvious, that nobody will notice the real spy getting the information we need. All eyes on you!"

 

Kage blushed, considering the prospect of several hundred pairs of eyes on him, give or take an odd number when one considered the inevitable guests with eyepatches, clad in high fashion and trying to pretend he hadn't just been a member of their ranks. It was admittedly a very tasteful gown, one in his color, but a gown nonetheless. "Wh-what about," he started to protest, before his face lit up, seeing an out. "What about Ser Crofte - "

 

"Ser Crofte couldn't make this work like you could, Ser Deneith wouldn't stand out like you could, and the rest of the Sworn aren't worth mentioning. It has to be you." Her smile seemed to falter, hesitantly, in a manner that suggested she was about to give him the hard sell -  "Please?" And, yep, there it was.

 

Kage sighed. "Are the shoes in my size, at least?"

 

----

 

Natalie was right about one thing - all eyes were definitely on Kage at the official semi-annual Brass Blades' Officers' Ball. They kept an eye on him specifically to keep at least a ten-yalm radius away from the former Sworn; even if his past status as a member of the Blades, however briefly, and all the trouble that had entailed hadn't been barrier enough, his ungainly step in the heels and the obvious blush on his face as he collected the folds of his dark blue gown together to avoid tripping with each ilm of movement ensured that people stayed out of his way in the hopes that disaster wasn't contagious.

 

It was with great relief that, after having been introduced, Kage was able to cross towards a table and take a seat. There was a wide, blank space around him amidst the throng of officers and their escorts - some literally so, others likely spouses - and he could see the small movements of the Dunesfolk spy Natalie had hired to listen in on conversations and rifle the odd documents. He had to admit, the plan was working, especially as long as there was a stir.

 

Just as Kage felt he was about to relax, as if he could get through the evening without further embarrassment, he heard the thud of somebody heavily slumping into the chair beside him. "Puh-pardon . . . " slurred the man nearby, enough wine in his breath that he could very well have been harboring a small vineyard, "Puh-pardon me, madam, but wouldja care for s'm dubious goods?"

 

Kage looked up to see an elderly Duskwight, clad in a shabby approximation of Brass Blade officer's garb and sporting a heavy white beard, seated next to him, having breached the buffer zone of empty space provided by the rest of the crowd. His head wobbled uncertainly, and the flush in the man's cheeks suggested that he'd been drinking for some time. Kage had a vague sense of who the man was - some sort of eccentric peddler who'd been wandering Ul'dah of the past few months - but what he was doing at an officers' ball he couldn't say.

 

"Oh! Uh-" He cleared his throat, trying to remember if Nat had asked him to pretend to change his voice; nobody had yet spoken to him beyond basic pleasantries. Given the Duskwight's inebriation, he decided not to bother. "I think you have me at a disadvantage, Ser - "

 

"Bellveil! Verrrahd Bellveil, Ul'dah's pre-..." He waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, 's a long title. How ya doin'? Nice party, right? Yanno they just give thes' invitationsh out?"

 

"Th-they do?" He frowned, glancing around the room. None of the officers would meet his eyes. Why was this a semi-annual ball, anyway? Wasn't one a year enough?

 

"Uhh-huh." Verrrahd bobbed his head up and down in over-emphatic emphasis. "'S a good thing I had a - " He swallowed. "Had a spare outfit. Got it on sale, yanno. Blades's good business." He nudged Kage in the shoulder abruptly. "But t'see 'em leavein' a young lady alone - now that - that wasn't right, you know."

 

Ah, Kage thought, this was going to be one of those misunderstandings. He braced himself for the rest of the evening when a crash caught his attention. The Duskwight seemed to give it no notice, rambling on about something to do with the quality of the drinks being too high. Ignoring him, Kage squinted into the crowd, and saw the spy had stumbled into the legs of one of the waiters, knocking aside a tray of drinks. The crowd's attention had shifted to the commotion, and amid them, Kage could see questioning looks. A few guards started to weave through bodies, towards the source of the noise.

 

If invitations were freely given, he realized, and people were allowed to dress as Blades, as Verrrahd had, then who else might be dressed the same? How many of them were actually officers, and if they weren't, why was the ball advertised as such? How many other spies had they already caught seeking evidence of corruption at balls like these?

 

For an instant, Kage froze. If this was a trap, he needed to get out, and quickly. He was a quarter of the way through rising from his seat, before seeing the sprawled over form of the spy in the crowd, still shaking his head free of the daze. That would mean leaving him to his fate.

 

All eyes on him, Natalie had said. Better not to let her down.

 

Kage continued his rise from his chair, but rather than flee, he smiled, the gesture feeble but broad, and extended his hand down to Verrrahd. "I-if you'll excuse my asking," he said, trying to suppress a stutter. "Would you care to dance?"

 

----

 

It had been ten minutes, and Natalie still hadn't stopped laughing. Every time it seemed like she was about to relent, she found some new source of energy and the peals continued. Kage frowned, shifting his body to avoid putting more weight on the sling around his left arm. He'd been seen by a Conjurer, and the break was a clean one, but they had insisted on letting it rest for a day before healing it completely.

 

The evening had been a disaster, of course. Between Kage's lack of balance in heels and the Duskwight's inebriation, they had managed to stay on their feet for thirty seconds before collapsing in a tangle of limbs and clothing, spilling into the crowd and knocking aside several dozen guests like very high-class dominoes. The crash eclipsed the attention given to the spy, however, and had given him the chance to get away.

 

Kage hadn't been so lucky; the Duskwight was surprisingly heavy despite his apparent age, and he'd suffered a fracture for his troubles. He'd been seen to by medics in the Blades, and had come to Natalie's own quarters to report on the matter the next day. Since then, the hilarity hadn't stopped. Only when she threatened to fall out of her chair did the noise subside.

 

"So - " she said, righting herself and wiping tears out of her eyes. "She got away you said?" Kage nodded.

 

"Yeah. I'd be surprised if he got anything though. Looks like it was all some setup."

 

"Big party, send out invitations to people the Blades want to silence, and gather them all up at once." Natalie nodded. "Good, good. Good thinking there, Kage." She smiled, and Kage found himself blushing harder than he had in a dress. "See? You were the only one could have done it."

 

"Yeah." Kage swallowed, looking around the room to avoid direct eye contact. "Listen, though, I was wondering - "

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Couldn't I have just worn a suit?"

 

The laughter started again.

[111]

Strangely enough I keep trying to convince Kage to get the caster robe from ST...

[Oscare]

Holy crap do I have to issue my next challenge sooner than I thought? You guys are breezing through!

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Holy crap do I have to issue my next challenge sooner than I thought? You guys are breezing through!

 

No, it just means the next chapter of Warren's adventures in Ul'dah will be written tomorrow. (At least until everyone's posted a story for their partners and want to advance)

[Warren Castille]

Oho, is this now episodic, my friend? Consider things about to be broughten.

[Kage]

Strangely enough I keep trying to convince Kage to get the caster robe from ST...

... Perhaps this weekend. .///.

 

YOU ALREADY KNOW MY SUGGESTION FOR THE WRITING CHALLENGES

[Unnamed Mercenary]

Oho, is this now episodic, my friend? Consider things about to be broughten.

 

I'll look forwards to it!

[Knight Kat]

((This is for Ruru. :lol: ))

((All I have to go on are RP threads, so I hope I got at least somewhat close. ))

 

Rurutani woke up naked next to a woman in a Mizzenmast inn room. He was disoriented, and his eyes started to dart around. He abruptly sat up in the bed, and surveyed the room.

 

"Oh boy...." He said quietly.

 

He got too drunk the night before, had little memory of it and was now starting to realize the situation he was in. His gaze slowly drifted to the woman next to him who was still sleeping. It was an unknown Roegadyn woman!

 

"Oh boy!" He repeated quietly, but with a hint of panic that time.

 

The shocked Lalafell slowly crawled out of bed. After a quick series of glances, he found his clothes on a chair. He moved quickly and quietly to dress himself.

 

He did not know who the woman was, and did not want to know what happened. He planned to get the Hells out of there before she woke up. He loved drinks, and he loved flirting with the ladies, but he figured he must have totally went overboard the night before.

 

Freedom was near; all he had to do was exit and...

 

"Where ya goin' pipsqueak?" The Woman called out to him just as he had started to make his way to the door. His muscles locked up, and he came to a halt. He did not make it.

 

He slowly turned to the Roegadyn woman who was now sitting on the side of the bed; leering at him. He knew he would have to use a lot of charm to get out of this one, but he was also fighting a nasty hangover.

 

"Ah, hello there..." He said as he forced a friendly smile. His voice was a bit shaky.

 

"Tha' all yer gonna say ta me?" She asked him as her brows went into an intense furrow.

 

"You're looking rather...." He said then paused.

 

"Speak!" The woman commanded. It just had to be Ruru's luck that this seemed to be a stereotypical Roegadyn woman.

 

"I'm sorry, just had trouble coming up with the words. You have a... Unruly beauty to you this morning." He said in a casual tone, but in his mind, he was screaming ("Who is this woman?!")

 

"Unruly? Yer tellin me i'ma mess, Pipsqueak?" She asked as she leaned forward a bit as if she was preparing to stand.

 

"It suits you!" He said in an enthusiastic tone. "Wildflowers shouldn't be tamed." He continued, and let out a chuckle.

 

"...Ye member me name?..." She responded as her expression softened, and her eyes widened in shock.

 

("That's her name?!") He thought to himself. "Of course! Silly woman." He said in a casual tone, and did his best to hide his own surprise.

 

The Roegadyn woman's cheeks darkened as she lowered her head a bit. She seemed to be blushing. Ruru saw his opportunity!

 

"Anyroad, I'm going to get us some water to help clear our heads, eh? You wait here, and don't you dare tidy-up." He said teasingly then winked at her. He confidently turned on his heels and began striding to the door.

 

"Wait!" She called out.

 

Ruru once again stopped, but did not turn this time.

 

"Whas yer name?" She asked in a meeker tone. "I... Fergot it."

 

Ruru turned his head to gaze sideways at her without turning his body. "Call me Jojo." He had to make up a random name, and hope it did not come back to bite him. Wildflower just nodded in response.

 

Ruru continued his confident stride to the door. "Be back in a bit." He said in a sly tone.

 

("I'm totally getting the Hells out of here!") He thought to himself as he casually opened the door and left the room.