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Coatleque Crofte, Hero or Harlot?

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Coatleque Crofte, Sultansworn of Ul'Dah, has been a shining example of courage and dedication to the people of Ul'Dah in these trying times.


Or has she?


Multiple sources claim that she has been engaging in multiple lewd acts with multiple questionable partners while on duty.  A recent interview with a source close to the subject has shed new light on Coatleque "Cleavage" Crofte.


The watchdog group Citizens Against Corruption has made it their mission to insure that moral fortitude and ethical behavior are enforced throughout the law enforcement agencies of Eorzea.  Though their tireless investigations they have found the stinking pile of filth that sullies the good name of the Sworn.


Their investigation has found that Ser Crofte is possessed of twin vaginas, the better to service the gold leafed members of the Ul'Dahn elite.  And beneath that armor reside five breasts with which she feeds her multitude of illegitimate children; children who still starve due to Crofte's terrible parenting skills.  She has lost no less than seven children to neglect this moon alone, according to statistics obtained by CAC.


So the next time you see her strutting her overused ass about like she owns the place avoid getting too close, for her smell is known to drive away even Goblins.  Also, beware her stare, which can turn grown men into toads and stop the heart of elderly Lalafells.




This Advertisement Paid for by Citizens Against Corruption.

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Berrod Armstrong's brow folded as he read the ad upon the page. "...it seems that Miss Crofte has upset someone in possession of a pen."


The Highlander sat on the floor against the wall in the yard of his company's house, surrounded by a myriad of deliveries that had been extracted from the little post box. Next to him stood Caden Agron, who was quietly attending to a troublesome branch on one of the yard's trees. He glanced down from his task, saw in hand. "What d'ye mean?"


Berrod shook the paper in indication. "There's a damned scathing bit of writing in here about her. About her habits. How many vaginas she possesses." The deadpan from the Agron twin bid him to stand and hand the paper up to him in the tree, where he had climbed with haste. "I'm not joking, see for yourself."


It took a few moments for the dark haired Highlander to read through the publication, his lips pulling into a thinner, more incredulous line with each paragraph he finished. "...They sayin' she got five tits," He mumbled. "Who's gonna believe that?"


The redhead snorted in a most derisive fashion. "You'd be surprised. I don't know what she's done to anger the group responsible for this, but they may have gone about it the wrong way. Granted, there have always been whispers of Crofte's chastity. Publishing something so outrageous may well make the female Sultansworn rally together. Maybe combat it with whatever honorable means they think will be effective. They do stick together, you know. After all, it could be any one of them written about next."


"Watch out below," Caden warned. Berrod stepped aside just in time to avoid being smacked by the falling branch. The other Highlander dropped next to him soon after, returning the paper in order to clean up after the pruning. "Ah well. Not our problem, anyroad."


"Mn, no, it isn't. It's just gossip-fodder. Who doesn't like a good bit of gossip? It'll die out in a few days. If it gets any heat at all."


"What's she like, anyway?"


Berrod stooped at the spot he had been sitting to pick up the rest of the mail. "...Polite. Very civil. I'm unsure how wise she is. Aloof when necessary. She has an air of artificiality about her, but I think that's necessary when dealing with the sandworms of Ul'Dah. I imagine chaste mostly...I know she was with that Warren fellow from the Grindstone. Both of them strike me as insufferably withholding types who would sooner perform missionary in the dark than let loose. Other than that, --"


"Heh. Yer one ta talk about gossips," Caden interjected.




"Ye know a lot. I'm jus' sayin'." 


"You asked."




"Just -- pick up the damned branch and go along your way. I'm tossing this thing in the rubbish. But...that Citizens Against Corruption Group. Unless they have some powerful allies, no good will come of them, or to them, in Ul'Dah." Berrod's tone waned grim. "When someone rocks the boat, they'd best hope they're tied down with good rope."

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Steel had pinched the bridge of her nose, sparks flashing behind her closed eyelids at the pressure against her eyes. Hopefully the sparkling lights and shapes would help to wipe her mind of the filth she had just read.


The stupid leaflets were tossed everywhere like fallen leaves in a forest floor. She had the misfortune of slaking her curiosity when her eyes fell upon the headline. Five breasts and two vaginas. Indeed, that'd be a hell of a burden to carry, let alone the rank of Sultansworn.


Steel had only a couple of passing moments with the titular Ser Crofte, but she never struck her as a person who even acknowledged her sexual organs, let alone carried multiples. The knight had been, for all Steel knew, the very model of Sultansworn behavior--stiff-spined, endlessly patient, verbose, and a woman who would strike down a threat if given half an order.


Steel's jaw tightened as her eyes passed over the scandalous words. She crumbled the paper in her hand and spat at the ground. She was reasonably sure that Crofte could handle herself--hell, the Sultansworn were likely not ones to take libel lightly....still, the insinuations of the leaflet burned her inside, as a woman.


She would find Crofte and offer her own axe in the tracking of the writer of such filth. And perhaps bury her axe into the writer's wrist to remove the idle hand from its host.

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Perhaps it is simply impossible to do something as simple as tune one's lute in the middle of the main thoroughfares of Ul'dah without something happening. After all, that sheer propensity for things to simply happen was the very aspect of the desert city that kept him visiting its taverns and streets, even such as the alley where he currently rested his heels, propped upon a barrel, his signature lute in hand.


So, perhaps it was indeed a spirit of the city that whipped a copy of one of the town's more provocative publications into the air, via a sudden dust devil, and across the strings of his instrument. What can one do in such time, but read it?


He tapped his foot against the barrel as he scanned over the contents, stopping upon what looked like another story of scandal from whomever it was that made such salacious use of the city's resources.


"Crofte... That sounds famili... Ah, yes, that's the name that floats in the Quicksand's air. One of the Sultana's bevy of mighty metal maids. Hell, does the Sultana only use women in her private operations forces, or are the men simply that well hidden? Bait, I think, bait."


He continued reading.


"Hm. Mhm. Hm."


He tapped idly on this instrument.


"Who writes these things? Frankly, I dare say whoever it is, sounds in need of a powerful, pulsing, pounding of particularly potent private parts more than any of the Sultansworn. Could be a public service to Her Grace."

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Aaron lounged about in a alley by himself half asleep,  hands behind his head and a content and lazy sigh of content. His hair hung closely over his eyes and glowed in the light peering from the buildings overhead in Ul'Dah. His gentle solitude was interrupted by a newspaper article smacking his foot. One eye quirks open showing silvery white almost cat like irises as he peered down at the paper and grabbed it reading a page that caught his eye with the word "Crofte". His mind flashed back to two people who he heard with that name, one being the Sultansworn he saw embarrass Otto in a spar, the other being and Elezen he saw by him at the grindstone a few weeks ago. 


". . . . . Not my problem.  ." He shrugged tossing the paper into the wind and going back to sleep in the alley propped up against a brick wall.


"Hope the lady turns out ok, if not then tragic. " he says lightly sympathetic as he dozed back off.

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Obsidian Hornet was not in Ul'dah for ten minutes before she saw the sign. She read it, her eyes slowly growing wider and wider with a grin to match. When she reached the bottom it came to her in a flash of inspiration and she bolted down the street.


***A few moments later***


The weavers guild was enjoying a quiet morning until seven feet of Roegadyn inspiration burst through the door.


"I need to commission a 5-cupped brassiere! NOW!" The mad Roe shouted, holding a bulging sack of gil aloft.

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Leanne upon reading the piece of paper narrows her eyes, growling to herself.


"Eva, you freaking..."


She immediately throws the newspaper into the most close trashcan she could find, huffing as she walks away.


"That's what I get for buying this crap for once. The Twelve may pray I will not be punching someone today."

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"...Idiots." Lili rolled her eyes as she tossed the paper farther across the table. Mikh'a let out a small squeal in his little booster chair, his bright orange ears wriggling in approval to the display of his mother's agitation. Lili continued grumbling to herself even as she spoon fed the kit with some mashed sweet popotos.


"Fucking idiots. Five breasts? Most women have two and sometimes that's almost too much!" Mikh'a blinked up at her as she muttered, before beaming as brightly as any one year old could beam.


"Fuck!" He chirped.


Lili deadpanned.

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Alexander strolled the streets of the marketplace, glancing over the wears that were on display for the day. Often it was nothing but junk and commoner trash, but occasionally someone sold something looking to make a quick few coins having no idea of the items real value. This practice also got him out of his laboratory, which also kept Rhianna off of his back about not getting out enough.


As he glanced over one stall, he happened to overhear a few people discussing something about a sultansworn and if they thought the story was true. He lifted his head in time to notice one of them tossing a leaflet onto the ground as they continued on their way, and he thrust his staff out to catch the paper before the wind could carry it off.


Reading it carefully, he found the contents both hyperbolic in nature and clearly an amateur smear job, at best. He mused that only a fool would be take in by something so childish, and then he looked around remembering where he was.


He folded up the piece of paper, and tucked it into his robes. It was unseemly and a mockery of print to have such trash rolling about anyway.

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Oscare sips just a tad of tea over the paper, a smirk appearing on his face. "Yeah, sure. Five breasts and twin vaginas. A likely story, truth be told." The hunter rumbles, looking out the afternoon window, greeted by the glare of the lowering sun. Oscare lowers the cup to the table in front of him, crumbling up the paper.


"And I have six heads, too. Why doesn't that make it to the paper? Seems like a bunch of people desperate for a story."

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Iron had only left his room briefly, enough time to get any local bounty bills posted, the paper, and some provisions before he locked himself back in his room. The Roegadyn had settled into his desk in the corner, posting up on his wall what needed posting, and jotting down any notes he could from current events that pertained to his work or files.

Edda's absence had left a large gap, and that gap was currently being filled with piles upon piles of wanted lists and company small jobs as he sought to establish himself more. Conversation, jokes, even the usual banter amongst Coral's home had all but ceased from the man.

Eventually eyes would linger over that particular article, and the big man grumbled slightly. Iron had been rather steadfast in his support of the reporter, but this went beyond ridiculous.

"Damned girl....And worse still for Ser Crofte. Can't imagine what those idiots in Ul'dah are making of this.." He muttered, rather displeased to say the least.

"Suppose at some point I should make my way there and check up on things...if only to  make sure Miss Primrose is alright..."

With that the page was turned and Iron continued to jot down notes about specific individuals, he had enough to worry about.

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Koporo hated to wear glasses. He hated the way he looked with them on. He hated the way it implied he was visually impaired. He hated the idea that he had a weakness of any kind.


He hated that he had to explain to people they were just for reading small print. 


And it was small print, Koporo found, that he hated more than the glasses themselves, as they were the reason he needed them in the first place. In particular, this small print, written by none other than the same person who's only reason for sticking in his long-term memory was for the almighty accomplishment of telling him to "eat a bag of dicks." 


"Five tits an' two 'oles, eh? Pfft."


He gave a long sigh. It was one thing to have it out for his superior. It was another thing entirely to go to such lengths to demean and humiliate her. Personally, Koporo didn't buy a word of it, especially the supposed anatomical anomalies, but it didn't matter what he thought. The cruelty of the citizenry and the Brass was something Koporo knew well, and he shuddered at the thought of more bullshit for the beleaguered Sultansworn to deal with. 


He recalled the last time he had tried to take justice into his hands, dumping a bucket of ice-cold water on Evangeline in the middle of the Quicksand, ruining her possessions, all as vengeance for a prior embarrassment of Ser Crofte. How he was made to apologize, and taught the value of humility, something Crofte herself had seemed to master.


...Still, there was little shaking the worry. Koporo decided, as he crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it, that the best course of action, as a member of Her Grace's Royal Gallantry, and as a friend and comrade to Coatleque Crofte, was simply to watch carefully, and be there when it was made clear he was needed.


-All while making a mental note to avoid the writer of the article like the plague, as if he hadn't been doing so already. Otherwise, the encounter may end with both her shins snapped in two.

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Passing by, Kale is handed a parchment of the news item from a herald boy. He squints at the lettering, recognizing a word here and there as he brings the sheet right to his face, before ultimately surrendering in trying to comprehend the thing.


"Twelve, sometimes I wish I could read..."

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Delial took her time in draining her cup of tea. The man who brought the parchment to her attention snickered and sneered while she slipped it from his hands. Some minutes later, when it became more and more evident that his patron did not share his amusement, he silently slipped back from wherever it was he came. She was not watching, no, nor did she care.

She set her cup down and re-read the words.


Her elbow set down upon the table, and she held her chin in her hands. She read it a third time, frowning.


"So much for subtlety," she eventually muttered.

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"That's what it says?!" G'leo exclaims in shock as the night guard reads the paper to him. "You must be fooling me. Let me see that!"


The guard is doing his best to reel in his laughter as the savage snatches up the note. "Aye, hahah, that is exactly what it says Cub." He has taken to call G'leo a pet name, the Nuhn being much younger than himself, and because the Miqo'te has yet to say anything against it. 


G'leo looks over the paper another time in the dim light of his cell. He scrutinizes it carefully before letting the note fly out of his hands, which now grip his hair in frustration. "GAAAAH!! If only I could read the damn thing! Why did I not pursue this earlier?!?!"


Another ring of laughter peels from the Guard who nearly falls back in his chair. "Oi, cub, calm yourself down before you make the other guards skittish." He walks over, scooping the paper up in his hand. "Aye, it is what it says here. You aren't mistaken; even if this article is full of shite...it's still rather entertaining to read. Oi! Don't tell Ser Crofte I said that!"


G'leo sighs. "That woman is more trouble than she knows (in reference to Spahro), fates above."


There is a moment of silence between them both as the guards laughter dies down. 








"Five tits tho...never would've imagined that is what is under her armor." The guard snickers to G'leo who is now finding himself trying to suppress laughter. 


They both end up just laughing together

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  • 1 month later...

Nothing catches the eyes of the Hyena faster than the words "Hero" and "Harlot" in the same sentence; he briskly reads the blurb for some juicy gossip which he covets so dearly.


[align=center]"Eheh, I knew the Flames were getting trashy by keeping me close but come on... Better her than I. The double standard of a buxom woman being scolded for her sexual appeal and letting I, a semi-nude madman commissioned by the Flame General Raubahn himself run freely with a damn near cult following... well that's a fallacy. Shame they couldn't just find something better to write in this paper..."[/align]


He trailed off from his monologue, skimming through some more while pondering the fact his simple mind was able to process such deep understanding of social commentary.


[align=center]"Oh look, the chocobo race results!"[/align]





[align=center] [/align]

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  • 3 weeks later...

Jin'li sipped his early cup of black tea as he read. Once his black eyes had finished reading the article, he placed the parchment down and looked over at the crow that was seated on the desk beside him.


"This one is not sure whom wrote this article specifically, but publicly defaming a Lady for having two vaginas and seven children is far from kind. To disclose such personal information is remarkably rude. This one is offended for the Lady Crofte. After all, we did have such a wonderful dinner together. Before we liberate her from the affliction of that that currently consumes her, this one will have to send a sympathy card with our condolences to show her our support.”

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((Please forgive the intrusion but just in case it slipped by anyone's notice, this particular article is over a year old so perhaps it's not something you'd bring up in conversation elsewhere as though it were recent... unless this particular section has a unique way of working, I'm not entirely sure!))


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((Please forgive the intrusion but just in case it slipped by anyone's notice, this particular article is over a year old so perhaps it's not something you'd bring up in conversation elsewhere as though it were recent... unless this particular section has a unique way of working, I'm not entirely sure!))




Don't worry, Eva can pay for a reprinting.




~~~Reply-edit to avoid another post:~~~




If that's the case then I understand >w<    Sorry again for the OOC posts.


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