I’ve run into this with my partner several times recently and I wanted to touch upon it. It seems there’s a plethora of women and men in this game that lack confidence in themselves. So I’m going to toss this out there and the lot of you can take it as you will.
You can create a supremely sexy/hot char.. dress them up and parade them about like nobodies business… but it’s YOU THE PLAYER who give them life. It’s YOU THE PLAYER whom passes on the traits that draw others to them. That char is a mirror whom reflects YOU.
So take it to heart when people express interest and compliment your chars. .because without YOU they’d be digital dolls without any life at all.
The skies looked overcast, a promise of snow. Not that it was anything different for Coerthas.
The wyvern was likely a remanent of Nidhogg’s horde. The shift had been light on knights for duty tonight. After all things had been quiet since the end of the dragonsong war. Of course Lance just had to be the lucky one to be on duty when someone called out a warning about the presence of a wyvern.
Lance wasn’t one to back down from a wyvern. No matter the scars still left from the Steel Vigil. He swallowed that pain and went forth to meet the foe outside of Skyfire. He was a knight of Ishgard and would not stand by while a wyvern attacked.
Sword and shield drawn and ready to face down the threat as he approached. Rolling to avoid the clawed talons that came at it. Turning to find someone else had run into the fight as well. The armor wasn’t exactly the first thing he could place to one of the Houses. Definitely not while in battle. The sword had met the incoming jaws that had been going for Lance while he was moving to his feet. It was looking at the man’s face that Lance realized he knew this armored man.
“Tsirae! Left!” Lance called out, hoping for the knight to shift left. Giving Lance the opening to lunge with his sword towards the wyvern’s exposed belly. Between the two of them the wyvern wouldn’t stand a chance. They might not work together with serving different houses but there was a certain amount of understanding between knights usually. Especially knights from Ishgard. It helped that Lance trusted Tsirae.
Oh, Ul’dah. It was a city horrible for business, but great for Rei indulging himself in his ever worsening hoarding habits. The sun was low in the sky at this point as the seeker had garnered quite the collection of new wares for himself to take home to Hingashi. He held on to only a handful of those items as he had the rest sent ahead to the airship dock to be loaded on to his transport home. It was a good haul, though to the passerby, he would’ve looked like a very rich man who had just spent an eccentric amount of gil on loads and loads of garbage. A very confusing disconnected from how elegantly he presented himself.
While in Thanalan, Rei always opted for lighter clothes than his usual silks. A sheer scar over his shoulders, much like a shall, did little to hide his exposed arms and shoulders, his tattoos a walking gallery of birds and flowers. The shirt under that was sleeveless in an attempt to keep himself cool, though he could feel the sun burning the skin on his arms. Good thing the sun was setting, no more sun burn or stupid heat to contend with. But in the dessert, as the sun sets, the cold sets in too and Rei was intent on getting inside quickly. His airship wouldn’t leave until the next morning, so heading back to the quicksand wasn’t the worst of plans.
He turned back out of the markets and into the back alley that connected the rich with the poor. He was used to street thugs, living in a household now that was essentially all street thugs. With his hair tied in a loose bun above his neck, it didn’t really surprise him that a drunk man or two called out to him. Or maybe they didn’t care? Either way, Rei kept his eyes forward as he walked, his arms loose at his side. He was oddly relaxed despite the odd sense of tension in the air.
There was a loud thud in a small alley off to the side and Rei turned around to meet the sound. “Don’t go over there…” he commanded himself, his ears flicking as curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t move initially as the sounds of a struggle seemed to grow more frequent. His tail swished excitedly behind him. For all his dark deeds, Rei did consider himself a hero and what a better way to act that part then to go over and intervene. He placed his small bag of junk on the ground, knowing that when he got back, it would probably be gone.
Picking a knife out of his boot, Rei turned around to run into the alley to spot three refugees ganging up on a tall man. Most likely Elezen from the looks of it. Not many were that tall and of that build. He maneuvered himself into the middle of the group. He was much smaller than the Elezen, but he would have the presence of someone whose hands were drenched in blood. His gaze was narrowed with a killer’s instinct, his teeth barred angrily. “Leave, now,” he demanded.
But without giving one of the refugees so much as the chance to back away, Rei swung his dagger upward into a highlander’s face, cutting the man’s cheek open and cutting off some of his nose. Blood poured down the attacker’s face as shock settled in. “Stand down, or I will cut you down,” He said that too late for one man, it seemed. Was this miqo’te really a hero stepping in to help someone?
Rei glanced over his shoulder as the Elezen behind him so rudely thanked his deity instead of him for saving his life. His ears flicked, slight irate, as he stared up at the man. Rei hadn’t realized how tall the Elezen was until that moment. But he wasn’t going to relax quite yet. Not until the armed thugs decided they’d had enough. “One, two…” he began to count under his breath. But he soon found them fleeing, rather than engaging the two of them.
The seeker turned around, nearly whipping the Elezen with his hair as he did so, “There is no deity on this plane who is going out of their way to save you. I just happened to be passing by this mess…” he gestured to the blood splattered on the pavement with his blood soaked dagger. He lifted the blade a bit closer to his face to get a better look at it and then idly began flinging the blood off of it in a sharp flicking motion of his wrist.
He turned back to face the Elezen again, lowering the dagger so it was in a non-threatening position, “Damsel?” he repeated the word, tilting his head slightly, a loose lock of hair slipping from his shoulder. He seemed genuinely confused by that notion, “I don’t care if you’re a man or woman. Scum like that needs to be eradicated,” he glared back at the blood stains on the pavement from the man he had landed his warning shot on. “I’m glad you have the decency to also thank me instead of that Osch…whoever,” he shook his head.
He a came even closer to the man, his feet light on the pavement, almost silent, as he began to examine the man more closely, standing on his toes even to check his wounds, “Did they break your skin?” he asked, reaching out with his free hand to try and take hold of the arm the Elezen had over his own torso to check the wound, “I am not a healer, but I can bring you to one,” he frowned, looking up at the man through his long eyelashes,.
“What did you think you were doing? wandering around out here with nothing but a rusty old meat knife,” he chided and held out his own dagger, “It’s dirty, but at least carry this. I can always get another.” His dagger was of shinobi make. But the man himself was not a shinobi. He held out the knife handle first to the minstrel to take.
Valen would have taken a surprised step back if he wasn’t already leaning against the wall. Quite surprised by the man’s attitude. Plus the fact that his usual charm seemed to have no effect. “Well… Not an easy customer this one.” The words were muttered mostly to himself as he maintained that earlier smile.
“Oschon the Wanderer. He is one of the Twelve gods of Eorzea. The deity that watches over those of us that wander the world.” Moving his arm aside to show there were no open wounds. Maybe a cracked rib but that wasn’t visible to the eye. “I shall be alright. I will contact a healer friend later. The busted lip. Maybe a cracked rib. This is minor compared to the damage I took from a failed hunt a moon ago.”
Valen took a long moment looking at the dagger. As if deciding whether he wanted to accept such a gift. Conflicted but slowly he reached to take it. “I am afraid I might dishonor such a fine gift. My skills are with the strings rather then a blade. Not that my bow would have been much help in this situation. I am a hunter of distance. A player of songs. I never thought to need such a skill before. Nor was it my intention to wander down the wrong road. I was merely rehearsing my music in my head.”
Seeing as the situation seemed safe, the little doman magpie finally flew down from the roof. Landing lighting on Valen’s shoulder and chirping at him. The young man giving a laugh which caused him to wince. Reaching up to gently rub Lily’s belly. “How rude of me. I am Valentin and this is my companion, Lily. But you may call me Valen. Might I ask the name of my savior?”
Okay… Now he was confused. Still paranoid but now confused. What did a bunch of random arranged sticks have to do with the rest of the items. Making a rough sketch of the pattern they were left in before brushing them off the ledge. Well he did keep one. Likely to ask Sanagi what type of bush or tree they might have come from.
“Okay this is just getting bloody weird now…” Alex grumbled as he placed the sketch and single stick on the counter to deal with later. Another check on all the locks and traps. Even the hidden throwing blades.
Oh, Ul’dah. It was a city horrible for business, but great for Rei indulging himself in his ever worsening hoarding habits. The sun was low in the sky at this point as the seeker had garnered quite the collection of new wares for himself to take home to Hingashi. He held on to only a handful of those items as he had the rest sent ahead to the airship dock to be loaded on to his transport home. It was a good haul, though to the passerby, he would’ve looked like a very rich man who had just spent an eccentric amount of gil on loads and loads of garbage. A very confusing disconnected from how elegantly he presented himself.
While in Thanalan, Rei always opted for lighter clothes than his usual silks. A sheer scar over his shoulders, much like a shall, did little to hide his exposed arms and shoulders, his tattoos a walking gallery of birds and flowers. The shirt under that was sleeveless in an attempt to keep himself cool, though he could feel the sun burning the skin on his arms. Good thing the sun was setting, no more sun burn or stupid heat to contend with. But in the dessert, as the sun sets, the cold sets in too and Rei was intent on getting inside quickly. His airship wouldn’t leave until the next morning, so heading back to the quicksand wasn’t the worst of plans.
He turned back out of the markets and into the back alley that connected the rich with the poor. He was used to street thugs, living in a household now that was essentially all street thugs. With his hair tied in a loose bun above his neck, it didn’t really surprise him that a drunk man or two called out to him. Or maybe they didn’t care? Either way, Rei kept his eyes forward as he walked, his arms loose at his side. He was oddly relaxed despite the odd sense of tension in the air.
There was a loud thud in a small alley off to the side and Rei turned around to meet the sound. “Don’t go over there…” he commanded himself, his ears flicking as curiosity got the better of him. He didn’t move initially as the sounds of a struggle seemed to grow more frequent. His tail swished excitedly behind him. For all his dark deeds, Rei did consider himself a hero and what a better way to act that part then to go over and intervene. He placed his small bag of junk on the ground, knowing that when he got back, it would probably be gone.
Picking a knife out of his boot, Rei turned around to run into the alley to spot three refugees ganging up on a tall man. Most likely Elezen from the looks of it. Not many were that tall and of that build. He maneuvered himself into the middle of the group. He was much smaller than the Elezen, but he would have the presence of someone whose hands were drenched in blood. His gaze was narrowed with a killer’s instinct, his teeth barred angrily. “Leave, now,” he demanded.
But without giving one of the refugees so much as the chance to back away, Rei swung his dagger upward into a highlander’s face, cutting the man’s cheek open and cutting off some of his nose. Blood poured down the attacker’s face as shock settled in. “Stand down, or I will cut you down,” He said that too late for one man, it seemed. Was this miqo’te really a hero stepping in to help someone?
How many times had he been warned to watch what streets he wandered down in Ul’dah… Of course his mind had been elsewhere at the time. Low and behold he’d picked one of the worst places to walk down alone. Lily had thankfully flown off to sit on a roof ledge the moment the three men had surrounded him. It kept his small feathered friend out of harm. His precious harp was safe in his room at the Quicksands.
A group of refugee thugs that wanted his gil but used the excuse of the small tune he played for a group of ladies earlier. Hiding their true motives behind what they wanted to him to believe was jealously. The sharp-eyed elezen though could see the difference in their body language. They thought him an easy target because he had a pretty face.
The worst part… Valen wasn’t exactly a close range fighter on his best day. Three against one hunter that preferred to keep a physical distance from his prey. Maybe he should rethink learning some close quarters combat mostly to protect himself. Charm wasn’t winning him out of this corner. Valen was quick but not quick enough when outnumbered with little room to maneuver.
Trying his best to protect his face and other vital areas at the men assaulted him. A silent prayer to Oschon that the beating would be over quickly. When the attacks paused as a voice spoke, Valen lowered his arm from his face to see who was foolish enough to step in. Just in time to see the splash of crimson as the small miqo’te sliced open the face of one man.
“Thank, Oschon…” Valen muttered as he wiped the back of his hand across his busted lip. One of them had gotten a lucky punch to his face. Standing with a groan as the other two men seemed to be trying to decide if they wanted to take on the newcomer. Trying to decide if bleeding was worth whatever sum of gil Valen might be carrying. Definitely not as much as they were hoping to get of course.
Valen drew his hunting knife from his right boot. Not that he could fight with it. It was really only for hunting. However it did make him look less appealing of a target now that the odds weren’t so heavily in the refugees favor. The men seemed to finally decide this venture was no longer worth it, turning tail to run off down the alley.
Sharp jade eyes looking towards Rei, assessing the would-be hero of the night. A small smile tugging at the corner of Valen’s lips. Especially when his eyes took notice of the bird in the man’s tattoos. Lily still chirping her distress from the rooftop. Valen wrapped one arm around his middle as he leaned against the wall. “Well, well… The handsome hero come to the damsel’s rescue. Sorry I’m not quite the damsel you’re looking for though.” There was the charming smile the minstrel was known for even if it was a bit strained because of being beaten about. “Thank you for the rescue all the same. Well as long as you don’t plan to finish what they started of course.” Eyes drifting down to the dagger Rei had used.
A third item… Now he was beyond paranoid and more angry then anything. He was beginning to put together what the hints were now. First a rose. Then a green thread. Now this… A small piece from chainmail armor. Clearly someone had to be hinting about House Haillenarte.
“Seven hells….” He didn’t think someone would find him all the way down near Limsa of all places when he left Ishgard for good. Should have known better though. Not like he had been very subtle with his crimes against Haillenarte. Storming outside, not caring if residents thought he looked like a madman right now. He had something worth fighting for here. Not like when he lived in Ishgard.
“Don’t know who the hells you think you are! Stop hiding you coward!” Shouting as he hurled the small chain link. “I’m right here! Come and face me!”
First a rose. Now a green thread. Surely it couldn’t just be chance. Not in the exact same spot. Poking the thread with the tip of a throwing knife just to be safe before picking it up off the ledge. He tossed it onto the counter with a scowl towards it. Surely someone was messing with him. Hopefully? It made him even more paranoid now that it was two days in a row and different items. Whoever was messing with him was making him angry.
“Blood coward. If this is your way of sending me a message, just come out an say it.” Muttering the words as he once more checked all the locks and traps. For now he planned to keep the thread till he figured out what the message was and who was sending it. Going to sharpen his knives he kept hidden about the apartment.
(XD This is making him so paranoid and I’m dying laughing at my poor boy. <3)
Spirit of the Warlock 