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xsekhah-balmung · 4 years

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X’sekhah Tia - LFC

The Basics ––– –

NAME: X'sekhah Tia. AGE: Twenty-seven. BIRTHDAY: Twenty-fifth son of the first Astral Moon. RACE: Seeker of the Sun. GENDER: Male. SEXUALITY: Heterosexual, polyamorous. MARITAL STATUS: Single.

Physical Appearance ––– –

HAIR:

Unkempt and as turbulent as Sekhah's temperament. It's a wildly uneven array of onyx strands that look as if he trims it without a mirror, and with a blade that lost its bite long ago. Some few patches of burgundy exist amidst the waves of pitch frayed ends of the mane, and decorating the head of hair is several shards of bone braided into the mess. He keeps it relatively "clean" otherwise, and washed to be free and clear of any dirt or grime.

EYE:

They stand out most assuredly, and are likely the first thing that one might notice upon meeting Sekhah. There's a ghoulish and eerily pale yellow shine to the pair of them, and they flit around erratically. It's not so much borne from anxiousness or a lack of focus, but instead a desire to keep the goings-on of his environment tracked and well in the forefront of his mind—even during moments of casual conversation in relaxed situations. In short, Sekh is always on.

HEIGHT:

His people grow them tall, stout, and sturdy. Sekhah reaches somewhere in the neighborhood of five fulms, and ten or eleven ilms.

BUILD:

Having been born into the caste of warriors and hunters that scour the many grains of sand that make up the Sagolii in search of the horrors that dwell there, exceptional physical prowess is a source of pride, not to mention a necessity for survival. Sekhah is no different than his peers in this regard and his physique is a testament to this dedication. Countless bells spent training and embroiled in conflict spread across endless suns result in a frame trim and toned, with an abundance of musculature housed tightly packed beneath the swarthy hue of his flesh. Broad of shoulders and thick of limbs, Sekhah's build satisfies the conditions for the ideal warrior's frame—for his size—and is replete with scars that he's earned along the way.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS:

A mask of stygian paint smeared across his eyes, and he's not often—if ever—seen without it. This is one of the few things that he's meticulous about insofar as his appearance goes.

As mentioned previously, scars. Sekhah’s people tell their personal stories with them. Wounds are left to heal on their own without the use of magic, and the scars that they leave behind are a sense of pride, not dissimilar to many other warrior cultures. They serve as a roadmap detailing every last bit of conflict that they’ve been engaged in, and the gnarled, and jagged evidence of past encounters with both man and beast stretch over his arms, belly, and back. Claw, tooth and blade make up the bulk of the unsightly marks that bite into his flesh.

Tattoos are present as well and compete for territory with the above mentioned scar tissue, though these are far less prominent insofar as quantity. A great black serpent that stretched over his ribs and ends upon his back, with a depiction of Azeyma swallowing the beast’s head up whole. Outside of that, there’s a plethora of fanciful stygian linework emblazoned over his wrists and his below his collarbone—seven in total upon the former area, and four upon his chest.

Missing teeth are replaced by some creature’s fang—after it’s been hunted down and slain by whomever’s mouth it’s going to sit in, obviously. Sekhah has one, a canine on the left side. There’s a drake’s tooth that completes his smile, gilded and gleaming when it catches the sun.

COMMON ACCESSORIES:

Though not as fervent—or overzealous—of a worshiper as he might've been in days past, Sekhah still pays enough reverence and respect to Azeyma to never be without some kind of charm or trinket embossed with her symbol. He usually keeps it out of sight these days, either looped 'round wrist underneath a glove or buried deep below the neck of his armor.

A wealth of pouches festoon his belt and only Azeyma knows what he keeps inside of them. Amidst the many present satchels are two innocuous blades. They don't bear much in the way of exquisite detail or markings. They're simple and efficient. A quiver of arrows rests tidily at the small of his back and a bow—equally unremarkable in its design—is usually slung over his back with its string digging into his chest.

Personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Hunter, warrior. That's about it. HOBBIES: Gambling (this might be an addiction over a hobby), cartography, scavenging, making terrible decisions based on his temper, drinking, feasting, occasional theft, smithing. LANGUAGES: Eorzean common, tuftspeak (don’t even ask). RESIDENCE: Ul'dah presently. BIRTHPLACE: Sagolii Desert. RELIGION: Azeyma the Warden. FEARS: Becoming complacent, falling into a mundane routine, too much quiet in his life, carbuncles (this is more of a hatred really, but close enough)

Relationships ––– –

SPOUSE: None. CHILDREN: None. PARENTS: He certainly has some, though isn't very eager to speak of them. SIBLINGS: He certainly has some, though isn't very eager to speak of them. OTHER RELATIVES: None still living. ACQUAINTANCES: Having severed ties with much of those in his past, Sekhah—again—isn't overly chatty on this subject. He's starting fresh now, so to speak. That being said, there is one thing that followed him out of the dunes.

An aged, and ornery beast, Sekhah's sundrake is his sole companion. The creature has seen many, many better days, with missing toes and bereft of an eye, and scales that look as though they've been forcibly torn and rent from its hide. It's loyal however despite the many grievances that it's clearly been made to endure in the Miqo'te's company—the many attempts it makes to gnaw at his flesh when he slips atop the thing to ride is clearly signs of affection, and play. Clearly.

Traits ––– –

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathic / unempathic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / uncultured / in between loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between

Additional Information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Flaws

Strengths

RP Hooks ––– –

Freelance Adventurer/Hunter:

Just looking the part since he departed his tribe doesn't fill his belly, and so thusly Sekhah has had to resort to what means he can to provide for himself. Hunting beasts and men, providing security for travel shipments or chasing down misbegotten treasure at the behest of employers, he does (almost) everything. I'm open to having him work with other adventurer types in this type of RP or seeking out employees that want him to go and retrieve something for them.

Voidsent/Ashkin hunting:

This is something that he does less of now these days, but is the caste that he was born into and dedicated much of his life to. His people have a history of entanglements battling against the aforementioned horrors, defending tombs out in the dunes and so forth. Again as before, I'm interested in pursuing this type of RP with folks, if there's an interest!

OOC Section ––– –

Hi, hello. Thank you for getting this far if you have. This is as with almost all of the things I write up of this nature, a heavy work in progress. I'll be updating it and adding to it over time so, check back occasionally!

I'm looking to branch out and make some contacts out in ye' olde world of Final Fantasy XIV RP. If people are interested, great, I'm always happy to interact with folks and make new friends. I prefer to RP with 18 + folks though, given the nature of some of the themes that can get involved in my RP.

Feel free to add me on discord if you'd like to plot something or to just say hello. Mediocrity In Motion#0862

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helboar · 5 years

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LFRP – Sulking Boar

The Basics ––– –

Age: Mid-late twenties.

Birthday: 30th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon.

Race: Hellsguard Roegadyn.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Grey-Ace.

Marital Status: Single.

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Brown-black, mid-back-length.

Eyes: Amber.

Height: 7′10″

Build: Fat, round, bulky in a soft way.

Distinguishing Marks: Heavy tattoo coverage across his back, parts of his chest, shoulders, and arms. Weathered blast patterns of scar tissue inside his palms, one worse than the other.

Common Accessories: Tusk and fang veneers. Rings that can serve as extra focii in a pinch.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Taxidermist, Reagent Supplier, Undertaker.

Hobbies: Pampering himself and his cat, studying biology and aetherology, trying new handicrafts, devising increasingly more avant garde taxidermy projects.

Languages: Fluent Eorzean and Amaljiic, passable Hingan.

Residence: Southern Thanalan.

Birthplace: Ul’dah.

Religion: Venerates Hydaelyn first and foremost, but follows the traditions of the Traders.

Patron Deity: Nald’thal.

Fears: Being used or manipulated outside of his knowledge, The Syndicate, dense crowds, chocobos.

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None.

Children: None.

Parents: His birth mother worked for Eshtaime’s as a lapidary, died young. His foster mother is an esteemed member of the Order of Nald’thal.

Siblings: None.

Other Relatives: None.

Pets: His cat, Iron Maiden, a little black shorthair.

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Very rarely, but occasionally open to a little something to take the edge off. Drugs: Only of the medicinal or above sort. Alcohol: Good with a book or a meal, but not to be mixed too profusely with delicate work.

RP Hooks ––– –

Taxidermy... Half a hobby, half a business. Boar offers commissions. Common critters can be requested or even bought off the rack at any time, but anyone looking for something with more mystique will need to provide their own carcass. Non-traditional rogue works are also on the table. For example, Boar has produced several faux behemoth heads, a number of imaginary creatures frankensteined from multiple specimens, and lastly a variety of “functional” pieces of taxidermy such as elk head chandeliers and chocobo clawed arm chairs.

Reagent & Raw Material Supply... Namely organic ones cut from fauna both exotic and mundane. What isn’t utilized for his more artistic pursuits is carefully excised, packaged, and sold through the proper channels. Bone to jewelers. Meat to larders. Humors, glands, and organs to apothecaries. His provisions are known in Ul’dah for their freshness, owing to a special method of thaumaturgical preservation.

Embalming & Funerary Rites... A practice he's mostly moved on from since taking his leave of the Ossuary, but one he occasionally still provides out of sympathy. He can’t bear the sight of grieving mothers, brothers, and sons thinking their loved ones are bound for the hells just because they can’t afford the Ossuary’s staggering fees. That said, the rites aren’t entirely sentimental, as they do offer some protection from body-snatching voidsent, along with some of the phenomena that give rise to ashkin and soulkin.

Thaumaturgy at more reasonable rates than that wretched Arrzaneth Ossuary... With his other businesses keeping him busy and his life fairly stable, he prefers jobs that can be handled in-house. Appraisal of objects with unknown aetheric properties, purging aether-borne maladies, suppression of unwanted memories, thaumaturgical sleep aides — anything within a disciple of Thal’s regular duties. But, he can be coerced to take on more adventurous work for the right reward or intrigue. He’s a capable enough mage in combat, albeit an extremely cautious one.

When he absolutely must venture into danger, he prefers to have allies, whether they’re freelancers assigned to the same mission or help that he’s brought along himself. He can sometimes be found guarded by two helmeted figures with unusual, rotten aether. Another companion he has also at times been spotted with is a lizard-like beastman. Their smaller stature and truncated crest get them easily mistaken for a Mamool Ja, but to the eyes of someone more experienced with the tribes they are almost certainly an Amalj’aa.

He regards conjurers with a great deal of respect, though anyone with the ability to perceive the voices of the Elementals will also sense that they dislike him quite a bit.

He can sometimes be found in Hingashi enjoying the street fare even when he has no particular business there.

Possible past affiliations... If your character was a member of the Ossuary thirteen or more years ago, has spent time in an Ul’dahn prison, has taken refuge in Little Ala Mhigo, or has ever had reason to hire a young, up-and-coming pair of mercenaries, then it’s possible they’ve had some interaction with Sulking Boar before. This requires some OOC spitballing, but I’m generally pretty open to pre-established relationships! In the same vein, I’m also always looking for returning customers and business partners. If your character wouldn’t be interested in his wares, he has cut deals with hunters/adventurers in the past to provide him fresh game in exchange for a cut of the sales.

Contact Information ––– –

Timezone is US EST

I’m open to anything from SoL to heavy plot and/or from comedic all the way to grimdark themes. I’ll even do AU stuff if that’s your style.

Normally, I’m down for both in-game meet ups and discord threads, but lately both my schedule and energy levels have been rocky so I’d really prefer breaking the ice over discord for the time being. I’ll edit this line when that changes.

I play on Balmung but will gladly RP with characters from other servers.

Please send a DM if you want my #discord!

#sulking boar #balmung #balmung rp #ffxiv rp #this is legitimately the worst time to post this #but i'm using maint to tackle my to do list somewhat #long post

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tsundozer · 5 years

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Prompt #05: A Conversation in the Desert.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

G’rha sat with his back pressed to a mountain of rubble blocking the entrance to the Sil’dihn aqueducts. He rested a guitar between a curled in knee and his chest, and the afternoon was filled with a charming, bouncing tune consisting entirely of rapid plucking of the strings. Simple, upbeat, casual. Precisely the opposite of the sort of attitude you’d expect from someone who was listening to the steady beep of explosives set all along the rubble behind him.

It was a strange feeling, being back in Thanalan, even if it were only for a moon. His wife and child were exploring the city for the first time, escorted by an assistant (just in case), and predictably she had made the sapphire avenue markets her first stop. This left Rha alone. Or--mostly alone.

There was a sound, low but rising into a crackling squawk, from nearby.

“What are you doing?”

Gray snapped his head in the direction of the sound, music stalling out with a string left taught over a finger. Several yalms away, behind a large boulder, there was a mop of muddied hair over a rusty forehead. They were tall. Robust. A roegadyn, undoubtedly, but the crack in the voice belied the speaker’s adolescence. Time seemed to stall out a nonce as though the sands in Althyk’s hourglass fell only to the rhythm of those strings--and then the moments crept on, welcomed by a playful progression across the strings up, down, up, down, up, “Why don’t y’step round from there so I can get a look at you, kid?” down, “But ain’t you go gettin’ too close, if it’s all the same. This here wall’s set to blow. I’m about t’do an excavation. Sanctioned, of course, all the paperwork’s in order. I’m here on request of the Studium, havin’ gotten a grant to perform an in-depth study on...” he trailed off, face crinkling in mild amusement as he scoffed at himself. “Listen to me, goin’ on like that. I’m here to learn about Sil’dih, bring home something just, real swell.”

“You’re going into Sil’dih?” The young roegadyn peeked out from around the corner. They--he--had a (comparatively) small pickaxe strapped to their back, his face was crusted with soot and their hair matted from sweat. As he made his approach he gave a brief wave, to make his presence clear. Which was, of course, wholly unnecessary. Other things which were unnecessary included stopping and pedaling in reverse as he processed the words set to blow, the way his hands flew up to shield his face, the Mythril Eye’s exposé on Finches of Thanalan, Internal Ethics Boards, and Reviewer Two, to whom if given the opportunity Rha would inform that their contributions were unhelpful and their comments were, frankly, very rude and somewhat hurtful. “Are-- are you like...a treasure hunter?”

Rha gave an approving nod as the Roegadyn stopped their approach (he quirked a brow as they rapidly moved back). “No, no. There’s fine. Just wouldn’t want somethin’ happening to you, yeah? --Yes! I am! And no, I ain’t!” Another bob of his head, as the music continued. “Archaeologist. So unless--well. Unless you consider--y’know?” The man paused, clicking his tongue as the music slowed to a languid prace. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. It’s been too long, since the path to the aqueducts were made clear. There’s a prize rich for the takin’. This here rubble’s the door to a vault, and truth is the treasure.” “That isn’t no treasure! Treasure’s like, gold! Or a silver statue! Or jewelry, or. or a chest filled with old coins and expensive gowns and--and why, if I found something like that, I wouldn’t never have to go dig round in a mine, again!” The roegadyn’s face pulled up in a scowl, at the ridiculous prospect of blowing a whole to some dusty ruins for knowing stuff. “You can read books for that.”

Read books for that. Rha repeated the words over, and over, in his head, “I suppose I could. I do, even. Most of my job is readin’, writin’, and paperwork.” The music stopped. The young sand-covered miqote pushed himself up with a huff, slinging the guitar over his shoulder and walking forward with a casual bounce in his step. His left hand reached around in his coat (a comfortable, loose fitting shirt with a long leather jacket around it with a single uneven hole at the right hemline on the bottom right) to withdraw a small magitek device. A switch, of sorts, with a simple toggle waiting to be flipped. He tossed it in the air and caught it, once. “What if you could be in them though? What if you were the one makin’ those books? Someone puts them there. Hells, why not go all out and make it a godsdamned story. That’s what I say.” There was a break in his speech, lips parted with a withheld continuation that shifted to a steady breath. He tossed the switch again. “Y’gotta name, kid?”

The boy scrunched up his nose, as he considered. A sinewy arm swung back and forth in time with a tapping foot. “I’m not a kid, I’m already registered with the miner’s guild. I’m...” they halted, and with a coy sort of smile that only those terribly bad at being coy managed, offered a drippingly insincere: “ Mighty Boar. Yeah, that’s me! Mighty boar!” The words were delivered with heavy emphasis, and they nodded, confident in their obfuscation.

“Mighty Boar, huh? Alright, then. I’m--” Rha turned into his shoulder to cough, buying himself a moment of time before whipping back with a wide smile, the sort that stretched the face and then stretched to other’s faces: impossibly contagious. “Daniel Gray. Archaeologist.”

“That isn’t your name! You’re a seeker!”

“That isn’t your name, either. You’re a liar.”

A silence fell between the two, eyes meeting eyes, before the both of them erupted into laughter at the dedication to the other’s bluff. Gray ‘s grin dulled, but didn’t vanish, as he lazily inquired, “So what’re y’doin’ out here, oh Mightiest of Ungulates? You’re a registered miner?

“You can get copper out here! And lots of it! Copper’s good for--”

“For wiring, jewelry. It conducts electricity an’ aether well, makin’ it favorable for magitek--”

“...It’s good for selling, or making into bronze.”

Gray gave a short laugh. “I, suppose you’re right. Eheh. Y’know--”

‘Mighty Boar’ cut them off, “Is it really all that exciting? Learning. Going in those places. I think it’s--I mean. You know about Sil’dih, don’t you? There’s ashkin in there. Dozens of ‘em, at least!”

“Dozens of them,” Gray agreed.

“Then why do it? Isn’t it dangerous? What if they get out? What if you find something you shouldn’t, in there? My dad always said that you academics loved to stick your nose where it don’t belong, and then wonder why it gets bit off!”

Gray’s brow knit, as he listened to the youth’s words--though ultimately, he shrugged and replied: “It is dangerous. But--well. Think of it like this. Every time I go in there, I’m uncoverin’ a story. Stories of people who can’t tell theirs no more. Get it?” There was a brief click of his tongue, before he continued, thumb now resting upon the toggle. “So I’m makin’ sure they ain’t forgotten, and for those who do, makin’ sure they’re remembered right and proper. Nobody deserves to be forgotten.”

“--You don’t think there’s some stories you shouldn’t tell? You know. Like, stories of ancient waterways and the connected city full of hordes of the undead.”

“No,” came the short, succinct reply, “I don’t.” He took a moment to review the youth, for one who claimed to be mighty, they couldn’t help but see the worry in their eyes at the idea of the rubble being cleared. Not that the man anticipated anything, himself. It’d been open for turns without more than the occasional ashkin wandering out. Ashkin easily dealt with. “Why don’t you get your godsdamned copper, kid, before I blow this gal wide open. Y”look nervous. Tell your pa all about how you found yourself some nut who plans on throwing themselves at the gnashing teeth of ash-faced revenants, huh?”

“--Oh, he’s dead,” the roe said casually--too casually, the way one brushes off a pesky fly or a peskier topic. “S’why I do the man’s work, now! Anyway. I don’t agree. I think some stories shouldn’t be told at all-they should stay behind your so-called ‘vault.’ ” he thrust out his hand dramatically towards the rubble.

“Man’s work,” Gray echoed, “Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that. Well, anyway, I...” ...the man’s lip caught and turned downward at a smile, as the weight of the words sank in. This boy, tall and broad as he was, couldn’t have been more than fourteen turns. He spared a second glance: the dirt-covered face of a miner became the unwashed face of an exploited wastrel. The sinewy, taut cords for arms and legs were no longer lean but muscular, but overworked and unhealthy. Gray was in no position to do anything, of course. He had to get his job done, and get back to his family. Family that this child may not have had, mind, but that wasn’t his problem. Nor was the boy’s apparent worry over him blowing the rubble away and venturing into the ruins. His thumb slid back and forth against the toggle, thoughtfully--before pocketing it back in his coat.

For whatever reason, ‘Mighty Boar’ was reticent to share his name, but quick to explain he was a miner. Cautious over the opening of tombs, but plenty at home endangering himself in mines or among the wilds. Some part of the man doubted that being part of the miner’s guild was anything short of being exploited. The way Boar eyed the rubble fretfully spoke of a deeper fear than one would associate with simple bedtime tales to coax youth into behaving. Boar was unhealthy. Boar’s father was, for unexplained circumstances, gone.

In his youth, Gray-- Rha--was quick to boast of achievements, that were just proof of their hurts and exploitation. Rha was quick to approach strangers, always curious, and always worried, and Rha was hesitant, at best, to share his formative years with anyone. Not even his wife. Perhaps Boar was right. Some stories shouldn’t be shared, and some secrets deserved to remain locked behind vaults.

Or.

You don’t leave it alone.

And sometimes,

You strap it up with explosives.

And you blow it to Thavnair.

And others,

You take a gentle, quiet approach.

Like when the story you want lies in a madman’s manse,

Or a young man’s fretful heart.

And in that case,

You have a lockpick.

Rha shifted the guitar on his shoulder and began marching off. Delving into Sil’dih could wait, for a bell or three more, and Siri would hardly complain at extra time to pay a visit to the weaver’s guild. “I’m gonna grab a bite. Realized I haven’t eaten, and you should never go delvin’ on an empty stomach, kid.” Casually, allowing the option but cautious as to not apply pressure or rob the youth of agency (really, what was more important than agency), “I’ve got extra gil, there’s this place that serves the best aldgoat fried steak you ever had. Listen to me ramble a bit, I’ll feed you in turn.”

#FFxivWrite2019 #dreams of a sleeping lion

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eorzeanharmony · 5 years

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GHUL Family: Ashkin Common territory: Thanalan (ruins) Classification: Ambush predator, solitary Sentience: Yes

Physical Appearance: As risen dead, ghuls look much as they did in life, with several minor but distinct differences. Under normal circumstances, a ghul appears to be a typical member of their initial race, but one with ashen skin and sunken features, and they often look slightly dehydrated. One that has fed well may gain a temporary flush, but this generally lasts only a matter of hours. Their hair appears bleached, often taking on a strange greenish or bluish tint, and the irises of their eyes turn silver while the sclera darken to a bloody red-black. More tellingly, however, ghuls bear a mouthful of sharp, sturdy fangs not unlike a hyena, while their nails grow into long black claws suitable for rending flesh.

Temperament: The single most important factor in a ghul’s unlife is their hunger. They are voracious predators and need to consume three to four pounds of meat per day to remain content. Although they can subsist on any flesh, that of animals is unpleasant and lacking nourishment; it will keep them from wasting away but do nothing to sate their hunger. Only the flesh of the mortal races suffices, though contrary to expectations it need not be fresh. If a ghul cannot find adequate prey to hunt, they will turn to carrion without much hesitation. (Cooked meat is considered somewhat distasteful but unlike animal flesh, still offers nourishment.)

This is not to say that ghuls are mindless beasts; quite the contrary. If one is well-fed, they retain all of the cunning and wits they possessed in life, and even if driven by hunger are able to lay traps and use weapons and other tools. Still, ghuls have powerful instincts, and a hungry one will behave in a somewhat atavistic and violent fashion until the problem has been remedied. In addition, all ghuls instinctively fear fire. They will shy away from open flame even under the best circumstances, and will almost always flee a conflagration.

Abilities: Undeath grants a ghul a modest increase in strength and speed, but what makes them frightening is their resilience. The dead do not tire, have no need to breathe, and do not feel pain. Although they can be injured (or perhaps ‘damaged’ is more accurate), they do not suffer from their wounds beyond the actual physical destruction of tissue. Arrows are of little to no use, as are most other piercing weapons, poisons do nothing, and the loss of a limb is an inconvenience rather than a life-threatening occurrence. On the downside, the dead do not heal, and injuries require repair either through physical means (sewing things back on) or else the use of more elegant necromantic techniques. As to be expected from a nocturnal predator, ghuls possess keen night vision, excellent hearing, and a discriminatory sense of smell.

Origin: Although the true lore of the risen hunters is now lost to the desert like the mages that spawned them, it is thought by scholars that they were created by a cabal of necromancers to be assassins and the lurking guardians of their archives and sacred spaces. Some of those original ghuls may in fact still haunt the ruined palaces of their vanished masters, but if so it is guaranteed that they have degenerated into mindless, savage wights by the current day. The dark magic that birthed their kind still boils up through the sand in the cursed reaches of Thanalan, however, and from time to time some hapless soul slain by the desert’s many dangers claws their way back to the breathing world with blackened talons. For most, however, they’ve become rare enough to simply be another terror tale told at campfires in the cold nights, to explain away strange howls on the wind or the vanishing of caravans amid the dunes.

#monster #undead #ghul #FFXIV #RP resource

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botany-hell · 6 years

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RP Profile: I’yalawo Sheqa

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: 26

Birthday: 20th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon

Race: Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Marital Status: Single

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Pale lavender-to-white

Eyes: A lucky two-tone; the left eye is bright turquoise, while the right is indigo.

Height: 5 fulms/4 ilms

Build: Lean and lanky; somewhat tall by miqo’te standards. She’s got strong legs from hunting and swimming.

Distinguishing Marks: Nothing particularly visible apart from the usual facial markings associated with female seekers, and a few small scars.

Common Accessories: She is very rarely seen without her wooden staff. Aside from that, wooden bangles carved with wards. A necklace made of aromatic cedarwood. Various bits and beads of blue stone, simply because she likes the look of them.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Officially, she is a priestess of Oschon on pilgrimage. Somewhat unofficially, a performer of last rites and hunter of ashkin.

Hobbies: Puzzles, word games, travel.

Languages: Common Eorzean, Huntspeak.

Residence: Currently none. She tends to stay in one place for around a week or so, then moves on.

Birthplace: Her home village near Bronze Lake.

Religion: Twelve worship, with a heavy lean towards Azeyma and particularly Oschon.

Patron Deity: Oschon, the Wanderer

Fears: Despite dealing with it on a regular basis, I’yalawo harbors a deep-seated fear of death and being forgotten. She doesn’t speak on it much.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Parents: I’sheqa Nunh and I’zangho Rhuwa (both alive and well)

Siblings: Some sisters and half-sisters, and a couple half-brothers.

Other Relatives: Grandparents, some living, some not.

Pets: Not so much a pet, but she does have a pack chocobo named Bayowa.

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: She won’t go out of her way, but will if offered. Drugs: Pretty much never. Alcohol: Has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance! She won’t be drinking any sailors under the table anytime soon, but she can hold her own.

RP HOOKS ––– –

I Ain’t ‘fraid of No Ghosts: Got an ashkin problem? She’s your girl. Due to certain traumatizing circumstances, I’yalawo has...strong feelings on the existence of ashkin, and will jump at the chance to see them put to rest.

Meteor Survivor: In the months and years following the Calamity, Yala spent a large amount of her time helping to soothe the pains of war at the Warmwine Sanitorium. If you’re a veteran of Carteneau--or if you’ve been wounded in the two years following the turn of the era--you might have crossed paths with her.

Child of the Wanderer: As a follower of Oschon, I’yalawo travels extensively as part of her pilgrimage. She mainly sticks to continental Eorzea, but can be found just about anywhere. She enjoys meeting with fellow travelers to swap stories.

From One Existence to the Next: As a priestess I’yalawo is specialized in performing last rites, and guiding the dead to rest--particularly those who have no-one else to do so, or can’t afford to pay the priests of Nald’Thal. She is happy to perform this service to anyone who needs it.

OOC & CONTACT INFORMATION ––– –

OOCly, I am...: a bit green when it comes to RP. FFXIV is my first experience actively RPing as well as my first time writing in a fairly long time. I’ve been doing it for a bit, but between having a full-time job and being relatively low on energy I am Kind of A Casual.

I generally prefer to RP in-game, as I tend to get distracted less when I’m actively in the world, but I’m open to discord RP as well! Please DM me for that, if you’d like, or feel free to send me a /tell if you catch me hanging around in game.

Located on Balmung server and operating on PST/PDT timezone.

I’m not opposed to dark/mature RP, but I’m not really up for ERP unless it would reeeeally make sense for the characters involved.

#ffxiv #i'yalawo sheqa #balmung rp #aaand done!#I'll attempt to make these for some of the others too

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tomesandsuch · 5 years

Text

A Hunter’s Toolbelt

It was no quicker that the ashkin’s gnarled limbs had first curled, then sprung it forward in a lunging, clawing motion that the man’s hand had already found its way to the relevant pouch. When it emerged again, it was to scatter a fistful of salt into the eyes of the charging corpse. The entire movement was quick, practiced, and the huntsman was more than ready for the inevitable screeching of the corpse, followed by blind flailing.

The man’s hand flickered to his belt again, this time trained on his dagger.

When your occupation leads you often into the clutches of danger, you learn to come prepared whenever possible.

a jar of Treant Joint Sap - “The sap in a treant’s limbs can become extremely viscous and sticky over time, if the seedkin is active enough. When it comes to a fast-acting adhesive, you’d be hard-pressed to find one better.”

a pinch of Black Powder - “Hey, you never know.”

Tinderbox w/ Flint & Steel - “The one I never leave home without.”

Whetstone - “Edge of even the best weapons can dull quickly against scalekin hide or gigas bone.”

Runed Box - “Used for containing volatile magic items.”

Repair Kit - “Just the essentials for mending a broken haft, bent plate, or busted soles.”

Medical Supplies - “Nothing excessive, just a potion and some dressings for wounds.”

length of Rope - “Well, of course.”

Bourrasque - “Ah-- Magic dagger. Polearms can get tied up easily, it helps to be able to drop it and pull out a quicker weapon in a pinch. A bit more fragile than I’d like, but its cutting power can’t be denied.”

Salt - “Useful for repelling undead and seasoning meat.”

Manacles - “I usually don’t wear these openly lest it sends the wrong idea, I’m no servant of the court. Still, they come in handy from time to time.”

Throwing Knives - “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Sometimes you-- you just gotta throw a knife, y’know?”

#ffxiv rp #roleplay #ffxiv roleplay #gwannes oskwell

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the-mountainsflame · 5 years

Text

((A battle is fought in the Ghimlyt Dark.))

It was strange, what one’s mind could focus on even at the prospect of a battle.

Doe knew that they were on the lookout for a signal, from the Alliance...some indication that they could and should start. But all she could think about was the darkness of the sky above, and how strange it all was, roiling overhead in aetherial turmoil like a living thing. What had this place looked like, before it had been ravaged by combat?

There was a curse from behind her, and her attention was drawn to the black-skinned Roegadyn half-buried in some bizarre piece of magitek. “Um...” Doe hesitated, but mustered up enough courage to continue when the woman she had been staring at looked up at her with brilliantly-silver eyes. “Do you need help?”

Iron Sights always just appeared unimpressed and unamused with everything, of course; now was no exception. But it intensified as she turned her head to bury it back in the bowels of the machine. “Unless you know something about technology that you conveniently forgot to mention, no.”

“Ah...s-sorry.”

The older Roegadyn’s back heaved with a sigh. “You do know you don’t have to apologize for literally everything, don’t you?”

“Sor—“ But Doe immediately cut herself short with an awkward cough. “I mean...okay. It’s just...a hard habit to break?” she continued with a fidgeting at her bowstring. “I don’t wanna make any of you mad at me, that’s all.”

“Hah!” Iron didn’t so much as pause at her work, though. “I would ask if you were taking the piss, but you’re far too pleasant for that nonsense. Hells... If anything, we shouldn’t be making you mad, given what you did not that long ago—“

“Enough, Iron.” Bull had been silent up until then, but his deep voice cut across her lighter one. (Doe’s shoulders sagged with relief, no more wanting to retread the subject than anyone else.)

“Well, you’re no fun, are you?”

“Focus,” Crow hissed from her perch on top of one of the fragments of Imperial dropship, though the hunter didn’t so much as turn her head from scanning the near horizons. “We need to be ready when we get this ‘all-clear’ signal they told us about.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Miss Leader, I’m aware,” Iron shot back, though it seemed she was backing out more and more from her machinery’s innards now, muttering to herself. “Ah, almost. Come on, behave.”

“I have a name, thank you, please use it.”

“There!” Instead of dignifying the request with an answer, Iron just straightened up, bolting one last cover-plate on as the insides of the magitek started to hum and whir. “Just needs to charge up, and then we are positively golden.”

“Sights!”

“...Then we are positively golden, Tiny.”

Not that it was terribly uncommon for the two to be sniping at each other, even with Iron being one of the newer Swarstral members, but the tension on top of that that the endless waiting had already induced was getting to Doe more than she wanted to admit, and so she spoke up right to Crow herself. “Any signs of the others from up there...?”

Crow had been bristling, about to turn on the impudent woman provoking her, but the question provided enough of a distraction to keep her from lunging at the other...for now. “Not a thing. Think they haven’t been called out there yet either.” “What’s takin’ them so long?”

Crow shrugged, but the lines of tension in her shoulders and back betrayed her own nerves more than Crow probably thought...Not that Doe would ever be so rude as to say anything about it out loud, though. (She had heard about how the battle in Ala Mhigo, before her arrival, had been...unkind to the Swarstral, and she could sympathize with someone traumatized so being thrown into such a similar situation once more.)

“The Alliance has their own battle plans,” Bull noted quietly, still seated cross-legged on the dark earth with a war-hammer lying across his lap. “They will call us when they are ready—no earlier, no later. And we will fulfill our dread purpose only then.”

Iron gave him a wry grin at that, muttering something unflattering about ‘dread purpose’ as she did. But when Doe sent her a look for it, the larger woman just clicked her tongue and shifted, fidgeting with the grip of the strange bladed gun slung across her back. “Aah, none of you have a sense of humor.”

“We have senses of humor,” Crow noted with steel in her voice, “for things that are actually funny...” But she trailed off, as her gaze snapped to something bright and glowing arcing in the distance, colored bright gold that almost hurt Doe’s eyes to look at...

“There!” Crow did, however, crouch down to scratch some arcane geometries into the dirt and debris covering the hulk she had settled herself on. “Bull? Doe? Do it, the peashooter and I’ll keep ‘em off your back if they try to come after us.” “Are you calling this a peashooter?” Iron brandished the blade-barreled gun as she scrambled up right with Crow, the magitek she had left behind starting to whir louder and pull itself from the earth. “Hah, I’ve punched holes in Reapers with this, mage! Reapers!”

“Aah, like I haven’t, and besides, I know that’s not your best weapon--”

“I’m not exposing Baby to this and you know it!”

But the rest of their...banter or argument, whichever it was...was lost on Doe under a wave of apprehension, the small one-handed staff trembling in her two-handed grip. She knew what Daeyona--war-leader, she silently corrected herself--had asked her to do, but...even though she had agreed, agreeing and actually doing it were two completely different things, and no amount of being in combat before was making her any less nervous.

(But not about killing people. She had no compunction against it, not in these cases; she knew firsthand what the Empire did to anyone they deemed lesser, deemed outsiders, and bore the scars of it all over her body. She did not relish killing, but she did not oppose it either, with their guns and their horrors pointed so squarely at them all. But about performing a magic she had so little practice in? That she shouldn’t have been able to do, from the outset, if her parents hadn’t done what they did? That was something else.)

(What if she couldn’t--?)

But a sudden crunch from her side, as Bull stood back up once more, threw her out of the train of thought, even if it about made her jump out of her skin in doing so.

“I’m sorry...” He was focused, however, on the ground ahead of him, hefting the war-hammer in both hands. “But we must focus.” It was not an unkindly remark, but a firm one that brooked no argument, as the varied marks and tattoos etched into his skin began to faintly glow. “We are entrusted to this task and must complete it.”

He was right, wasn’t he? But still, she just felt comically small next to him and the quiet power radiating from him, and she swallowed. “I...I know, but...”

But the smile he gave her was genuine, exaggerated by his beard and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I have faith you’ll help fine in defending us against this scourge.”

Doe swallowed down the multitude of responses that came to mind--can’t can’t can’t--in the face of such confidence, but...all the same, her hand kept shaking as she finally held out the little stave in a casting stance. “I have to.” There was no doubt about that; letting the Imperial airships through their lines to do Twelve knew what to those behind them was something that she couldn’t possibly stomach. She knew what she had to do, even if she didn’t know if she could. “I can’t let anything else happen to the rest of us. Or to the Alliance. Or the Resistance...” She trailed off. “We have to stop them.”

And she would just have to dig into a magic she didn’t know much of anything about in order to do it. The thought daunted her and yet the constant seething sea of wild aether in the back of her mind reached for her at the thought, clamoring wildly to get out, too...too much like before. She shuddered, and had to shove down the flood of memories of blood and fire that were all too recent. But...

She knew better now, didn’t she? She hadn’t known that it was even there before but now she did and she had even tested herself whenever she thought she could handle it.

The ground in front of them crunched, now, and a startlingly-large chunk of earth rose to follow Bull’s slow, careful gesturing with one hand.

She closed her eyes, hearing him ask her to make the marks--

(She knew that he had more than enough trouble with magic lately, and that this had to be straining even his formidable capabilities.)

--and she cast her thoughts towards the inner mass of souls trapped in the stone trapped inside her body, instead of flinching away from it.

They lunged.

It disoriented her so much that she staggered and gasped, and someone was trying to say something to her, but her hearing muffled itself under the roar of so many things howling and grabbing at the lone living thought in their midst in a desperate bid to escape. It could have been overwhelming just like it had been the first time, but now she knew what to expect and met it with as much focus as she could muster, searching pointedly for the quieter spots in the storm of fury surrounding her--where she knew that the spirits of the more explosive creatures resided...

I’m sorry.

She never liked being reminded of just how many souls there were here; she never liked being reminded that her family had done this to so many things over so many centuries, siphoning their souls from their bodies and trapping their aether in the stone that resided now in her body where she couldn’t get it out without killing her.

I’m so sorry...She fought off some of the angrier and more vicious thoughts trying to rip her mind from its socket to join them, and finally, reached out to grasp the smoldering threat that was the grenade ashkin—

It thankfully didn’t resist, even as it tried to lean away—

And in the physical plane, she pointed her staff at the boulder that Bull was levitating, focusing all her intent to a single point and a single purpose...to imbue it with the very power she was drawing on and mimicking with her own aether.

It surged more sharply than she had anticipated, however, and the arcane marks etched themselves deep and glowing into the stone, hissing in the air with the faint promise of power just waiting to be set loose. Thankfully, Bull caught on quickly and sent it flying with a swing of his hammer and a flare of manipulating magics, but as it soared through the dark skies towards the even darker forms of the Empire’s airships, the marks grew brighter and brighter—

And on impact, they ruptured and exploded outward with horrific force, tearing through shrieking metal and man and air alike with a brutal impartiality and a roar of blasting aether that had been far greater than she had intended.

Doe was no Daeyona; she didn’t think of herself as relentlessly strong, as vicious--she did not live and breathe battle like her leader did, or even like her Ahtyns did as well. She reeled from the wall of noise slamming into her, startled from the raw force it echoed, but she managed to stay on her feet and just swallowed hard and tried her level best not to tremble at it.

The shrapnel, thankfully, missed them if just because of the sheer distance, but Iron Sights briefly turned her attention from the Imperial soldiers she was steadily picking off with her bladed gun, surprise stamped on her features. “Sweet Twelve—“

“You mind dialing that back a little, Doe?” Crow interrupted, her incredulity significantly more masked, but present all the same, as she rapidly blinked her eyes. “I need to not go blind over here every time you two do that, thank you!”

“Fire’s gonna make light no matter what I do!” Doe’s protest was visibly unexpected, from Crow, but thankfully the older woman just grumbled and turned herself back around, irritably scything rapid-moving crystals of ice at a soldier that had been attempting to creep up on them.

“Doe!” Bull had mostly stayed out of the argument itself but had focused on bringing up another boulder instead, though the effort of his magic left a glinting sheen of sweat on his bared torso. “Magic is...difficult here.”

(It had been difficult in general, she wanted to say. She hadn’t missed how Crow was that much slower on her horrifyingly-fast attacks; she hadn’t missed how their few conjurer-healers had been complaining about their magics fleeing them at the worst possible times. She hadn’t missed how even some of the more intelligent creatures and things locked into her crystal had shied away from the thin aether they apparently saw all around her.)

But now was just not the time.

She raised her staff once more, she focused once more, she plunged into the depths of the sea of souls once more—and she dredged up the explosive forces she wished to command once more, more lines and geometries burning into the rock Bull was hovering in front of him. But it was less ferocious, this time; after the Halonic monk sent it flying with a resounding hammer blow, its explosion through the hull of an approaching war-airship was so much more controlled, punching a hole straight through its bulk instead of shattering against it with raw fury.

She did not relish killing, like some of the others could at times. Quite to the contrary, her stomach turned seeing the massive hulk crashing to the ground in flames. But...

Kill or be killed. Sage’s words to their little splinter group before they left to take up their positions rang in her mind, and she knew the notion to be all too true--possibly better than anyone else. The only course of action was to keep going, and she stood by the huge monk’s side as they continued to lob attacks at any ship that dared to get too close--and even at what footsoldiers dared to try and strike at their perch at the top of the hill.

Kill or be killed. But that was just war, wasn’t it?

She didn’t relish in needing it. But need it, they did, and she’d keep fighting this war until that was true no longer.

#; writing

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blackrose-ffxiv · 6 years

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Ala Gannha Ghost Hunt 06/23

The clawmarks did, indeed, seem to match that of a hand--if said hand had talons. No human fingers should have been able to leave gashes this deep. It was not the only wound on the creature either, just the one that had proven to be lethal--it's side bore similar claw marks, as if something had perhaps lept at it to catch it, as well as generally tearing into it with abandon. Synn, meanwhile, would indeed notice tracks. A few were bootprints that seemed fairly fresh; likely left by those who had found the body in the first place. But the others... they were odd. There were no shoe marks, but the dirt seemed to have been swept aside, as if by a broom. Or perhaps a cloak... The trail did not lead down towards the village either; instead it continued towards the side of the cliff, towards the river, before simply... vanishing over the side.

"It wasn't a clean kill, that's for sure," said Luca Black, looking over to Anselme, certain he saw all of the same signs of struggle as he did.

Anselme de Haillenarte nodded his agreement, lining up the clawmarks with his fingers yet not touching the wound. “Something about the size of a man could have done that, if he had claws rather than hands.” He noted. “Or some sort of claw-like weapon. Yet that seems a bit silly, far more effective ways to poach.” He pushed himself back to his feet, looking from Luca to Idristan, then back again. “Will you check it for signs of the void? That, ah, tracking bit.”

Synn Heolstor knelt down to better inspect the trails leading away from the vilage. "Idristan or Luca, either of you want to take a look at this? I've found a trail leading away from the village and toward the river before..." He gestures for them to see for themselves.

Luke Gravespast slowly walked back around and away, the man giving room and scanning the ridges nearby, looking for what he was possibly more concerned with on rote habit.

Idristan Agache seems focused more on the body than the potential tracks. Pressing the cloth harder against his nose, his expression grows distant as he focuses on the corpse. No aether left, of course... but no void taint either. "It doesn't look like a voidsent did this," he admits slowly.

"....so ashkin or- the torn throat...? Is it jagged or clean?" Luke called out.

Anselme exhaled a small sigh of relief from a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. No void taint. That was a step in the right direction, he supposed. That still left plenty of less pleasant options. “It looks like an animal attack, the marks are jagged. Er, well. It’s not entirely dissimilar to marks I’ve seen after dragon’s attacks. Wait, scalekin.” He corrected.

Luca joined Synn to take a look at what appeared to be strange tracks. "They're not clean like those other ones," said Luca looking at the shapes. "It's like...when wolves walk through the snow, their tail sometimes dulls their tracks. They'd mentioned the man they saw as wearing a cloak so this could be him." Luca looked, though, as the tracks seemed to go nowhere after the edge of the cliff. "So he either took a dive into the shallow river or he flew off."

"....some claws..." Luke watched the man's hands - and then the spread of his fingers, and then lifted his hand spreading his own instead and countering with a better spread of them. "...and? There's... a number of things here that make marks like that."

Anselme nodded eagerly, agreeing with Luke. “Aye, indeed. But I don’t suspect they would attack without reason. A goat isn’t a predator to be defended from, it’s food. Yet nothing ate it…?” He stopped making dragon-claw motions with his hands and reached up to scratch at choppy black hair again as he frowned down at the shredded corpse. “It’s a messy job of it too. ‘Crime of passion’ comes to mind, but I don’t think that quite applies to a goat.”

"..." Oh how Luke wanted to say something. Oh, how he wanted to... "Which seems like ... almost a set up, or a baiting move."

Synn leaned over the edge just enough that he wouldn't fall, starting at the edge of the cliff where the tracks stopped abruptly he scanned for where they might lead back to dry land. Upon seeing a shadow below however he reaches out for Luca's shoulder and points out what he sees. "There, It's moving." He says in a hushed voice lest the thing overhear.

Anselme scratch-scratched still. Doing his best to consider that. Honestly he preferred just having which way he should swing the axe pointing out to him, yet not thinking for oneself was a good way to get into trouble. “I suppose. Could use a smaller animal to get the attention of larger ones or… oh.” He finally stopped ruffling his own hair as concern dawned slowly. “You suspect it’s bait for us, then.”

Luke canted his head slightly and then nodded. "Yes. I think it might've been set up bait for us, instead. In Gyr Abania? Gyr Abania of all places, a corpse like this left to rot, unpicked by predators...?"

Thick brows furrowed as Anselme nodded, slowly this time, yet once again in agreement with Luke. It was all a bit suspicious, wasn’t it. It was then that he finally realized that Synn and Luca had moved along, standing near the edge of the cliff and looking at something. He straightened up and took a step closer. “What is it?”

"Guys," said Luca, his voice hushed and careful. His eyes, graced by his father's elezen genetics, could make out more of the night than the hyur's beside him. As the tracks had suggested, whatever had made them continued on from the cliffside. "There." Luca pointed, one pale hand extended out into the cool desert night air.

Floating above the water, moving away from the group, was a man-shaped figure that appeared to be wrapped in a cloak. It hadn't seemed to pay the group any mind yet and continued on its way, gliding just above the water.

Luke slowly edged over and watched the gliding cloak. "...hellfires, what is that?" He tried his best to track the shape as it moved, a look of concern as he watched the thing - what was it? "...I know more youma that look like that then other things, but those live elsewhere..."

Anselme paled somewhat when he saw what the rest of the others were looking at. That right there was some ghost story stuff. Men don’t walk on water. Especially not while keeping their cloak dry enough to billow so ominously behind themselves as they walked. Ghost or witchcraft, possibly both. Armor clattered quietly as a small shiver moved through his shoulders.

@roses-and-grimoires @synn-heolstor @glowinggunmetal @luca-the-hunter

#anselme #idristan #luke #luca #synn #voidhunting 101 #spooky scary

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thedarknesssings · 5 years

Text

Prompt #3 - Solace

FFXIV Write 2018 Prompt 3: Adytum

“I know if you were alive, you’d try to talk some sense into me.” Amadeus smiled, a subtle twist of sadness along the curve of his lips. His finger ran down the length of chain until the pendant rested against his palm. “For having met for a bare few days, I’ve missed you far more than I ever thought I could.” The door creaked behind him. The slight shuffle in the step told him who his visitor was. A couple of strides brought him to Father Iliud’s side. Amadeus’ younger arms relieved the man of his burden. He laid the bundle on the table. “More arrows?” “Mm, yes,” Iliud eased himself down on the bench. “Bolts and stakes as well. Wood, silver, like you requested.”

“Thank you, Father.” Amadeus poured water into a simple ceramic cup and gave it to the older priest. “You should have just called me upstairs to fetch it myself.” The priest shook his head, a huff of laughter escaping him. “And let the stairs best me? Bah, I shall continue to conquer those.” Iliud took the cup and drank a healthy portion of the liquid within. “I thought I heard you speaking to someone, Amadeus.” Amadeus shook his head and drove his fingers through his deep green hair. Pale highlights caught the flickering light from the candles and hearth. “No one.” Still, he caught the pendant from where it hung above the small makeshift shrine he often prayed at and tucked it into a pocket. The priest nodded his head. His gaze drifted over the large space that had once been little more than storage in a basement few visited. Cobwebs and dust piles forgotten until Amadeus had come to age. Until the duskwight, that had strangely wound up on the Church’s doorstep as little more than a few day old babe, decided his fate was to wage war against the undead. Now, the walls bore maps and means. Numerous weapons hung from racks, well kempt armor stood at the ready. Over the years, Amadeus had collected a good supply of everything he could think of to use in his war. The workroom and living space this part of the church now served as was seen by few. In truth, Iliud was sure only two. Pride pricked at him for being one of the trusted, but so did sorrow. His thoughtful gaze landed on the bowed head of the duskwight sorting through the items in the bundle. Every man needed to find his way, that was true, Iliud knew. But why must those with the hardest fates so often walk alone? If only he were a few years younger, perhaps then he may have been the one to walk at Amadeus’ side. Iliud finished the water and set the cup on the table. His hand slapped against his thigh and he pushed up to his feet. “Well then, I trust you’re off again at duskfall?” “Mhmm, a traveller came through Drybone yesterday with word of something off going on down near Sandgate. Didn’t sound like amalj’aa. I’ll go have a look.” Amadeus sounded distracted, his attention caught on counting the bolts and arrows. “Twelve walk with you then and bring you safely back.” Iliud moved over to the door only to find himself stuck on the threshold. He took in a breath and glanced over a shoulder. Amadeus had taken a seat on the bench. In his hand lay the pendant. Iliud smiled softly. “She’d be proud of you, Amadeus. Walk your path, but remember to keep your eyes and heart open. Fate often has more in mind for you than what is obvious.”

#FFxivWrite2018 #Amadeus Korsinault #Father Iliud #mateus #ffxiv #rp #ffxiv writers #writers on tumblr #duskwight #elezen #ashkin hunter

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ps260editorial · 3 years

Video

The Limited Edition Ram 1500 Red is here. Born to save, built to serve. 💪 Stellantis is partnering with Bono's celebrated charity (RED) and will donate $4 million to fight against COVID-19 and other global health emergencies. This intense spot for Stellantis was edited by Nate Cali and produced by Megan Dahlman 🚗🔥 CLIENT // Stellantis Global CMO - Olivier Francois VP, Head of Marketing - Marissa Hunter Head of Advertising - Jeff Summers RAM Advertising Manager - Lindsey Hart CLIENT // (RED) Co Founder - Bono AGENCY // Sheet Metal Arts Founder - Mark Wenneker Co-Founder - Rob Buchner EDITORIAL // P.S. 260 Editor - Nate Cali Executive Producer - Megan Dahlman Managing Director - Zarina Mak MUSIC SUPERVISION & AUDIO POST // Mophonics Song - "Red & Black" - Romeo + Juliet VFX // Chapeau Studios Creative Director - Lauren Mayer-Beug Previs Artist - John Allardice CG Supervisor - Mike Townshend Fluid Sim Team - Mike Townshend & Oyekunle Jegede CG Support - Tom Allen & Nathan Boldman Compositor - Nathan Boldman Senior Producer - Josef LeBeau Senior VFX Supervisor - Ben Looram Managing Director - Karuna Venter Technology Manager - Mark Wright Legal and Operations Manager - Melissa Ashkin End Truck Studio Elements // Racing Cowboys Director - nicolai iuul

#beyondtheboards editorial editor post postproduction ps260 stellantis

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pallidusbellator-blog · 7 years

Text

||A Heart is to Share||

@ofbonesandash & @dryadalisregnum A short mishap regarding loneliness, fear, heartbreak and utter pining.

[╰ ♔ ╮] Drawn and exhaled were gradual and paced breaths, relaxation and reflection at the very forefront of his mind while eyes stared hopelessly up toward stars. Ah – how they looked like the glistens within his love’s eyes. The vampire had utterly melted the hardened ice around his heart with his eternal flame and utter romance – never in his wildest dreams had Nuada ever thought he would fall for another, yet there he was. Lay outdoors, the prince contemplated the past – his first meeting with Ashkine, their conversation, his first experience with being bitten. How wonderful it was in its own bizarre way. Oh, he couldn’t help but smile, he couldn’t help but sigh as he glanced up toward the cosmos above and imagine the other to his side. That evening, his beloved had gone hunting; leaving the prince alone. Indeed, it had been some time now since Nuada had returned to the alcove he had turned into a cap for himself, while exiled from home and wishing to be close to the Troll Market. The more time he spent alongside his love within his home, the less he wished to leave – though he did on occasion, if only to give Ash some space. It was his home, after all; and the prince would never wish to overstay his welcome. A glass of wine under the stars was the indulgence for the evening; awaiting his lover’s return. But hours grew onward, and once the elf had managed to tear his mind from his adoring thoughts of the vampiric male, dawn was closing in. Widened, honey-toned eyes scanned around him, rising to his feet to head inside and see if Ash was home; but nothing. A sickly churn took over his stomach – perhaps he had been tracked by hunters again. Perhaps he was seeking refuge elsewhere before making his move homeward. It had happened once before, after all – his beloved wandering in with severe burns that caused the elven prince to almost vomit in fear and panic. The memory alone was more than enough to raise a panic inside of his chest. Restlessly, the male hovered near to windows, observing the outdoors in the hope he would see Ash return, even in the daylight. He had no such luck; once more daylight turned to twilight, and twilight to midnight. Fragile hopes that he would return during the darkness continued to be harbored, cared for, adored… But no – Ash had not returned. As the days and nights wore on to close to a week, Nuada grew increasingly concerned, increasingly panicked and worried… and increasingly weak. Sleep no longer came to him, restlessness bought on nightmares of loss and fear. His highness was unable to keep any food down, barely able to sip water as his wait continued, constantly pining. Constantly whining and awaiting his love’s return. Allies were sent to search for his love – trolls, fae, anything and anyone of whom bore allegiance to him were out searching for his beloved vampire, a description at hand. Oh how his heart ached. How it thrummed within his chest with a failing vigor. So closely was he lingering upon the knife edge of heartbeak – one of only two things that could kill an elf of his kind. Heartbreak and to be slain. He curled up within his love’s bed, clutching at the sheets that still held his scent, that radiated his warmth but oh – it was not the same. It staved off the agony inside of him for a short while, allowing him an hour or so sleep… But it was not enough. Still Nuada pined, still he paced toward windows in the hope to see the vibrancy of his beloved arrive home, where he belonged. Tears continued, the pillow sodden beneath his head; agony radiating, eyes as pale as his skin, too weak to lift his head much in the slightest. His mind turned to the worst – had Ash been harmed? Slain? Had the rarity of a permanent death come about without him knowing? The fear of never knowing embedded itself deeply within his heart; oh his beloved Ashkine – he could only pray to whatever deity may have been listening that he would return home – healthy. Alive. How long had it now been since the royal had kissed his love goodbye? T’was meant to be a hunt, the duration of a night – but it had been a week… and as the night drew in once more, a sense of sincerely fragile hope once more bloomed within his chest. In a half haze, he allowed only his ears to take note of his surroundings; echos of wildlife out of the window, a gentle patter of rain… And footsteps? His heart leapt inside of his chest, the small reserve of strength he had within allowing him to instantly push off of the bed (a blanket still around shoulders) to dart toward the door he could hear opening. There were no efforts to hide the tears streaming down his face as his now pale eyes lay upon his beloved – home – a little burned, a little worse for wear, but alive. Arms were thrown around Ash’s neck, a tight embrace held, absolutely no intentions of letting go conceived within his consciousness. So much weight had the elf lost throughout that week, that he was but half the size he had been previous. He scarcely cared; no, Nuada had his love once more within his arms and there was a vast reluctance to allow him to leave alone again. No – he was unsure he would be able to live through such a thing again – his poor heart would take some severe healing, it wouldn’t bear a second time. “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again, Ashkine!” His words were harsh, but intermittently did he sob between words, the relief of seeing his soul-mate safe and sound before his very eyes. Hands grasped softly at the sides of his face, pulling their foreheads to rest together. “I had so very many allies searching for you…for days! I thought you lost to me!” Tears refused to cease, but they had turned from utter sadness to absolute happiness - light kisses pressed to Ash’s face as he tugged him to somewhere - anywhere - comfortable. Nuada was intending to cling to him for some time, to be certain that he was real and there before he would even think about releasing him.

#Drabble #ofbonesandash

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ofbonesandash-archive-blog · 7 years

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Things I want

Ash having a partner for nothing but feeding.

Someone actually able to overpower Ashkine.

A vampire hunter pining for Ash’s head on a pike.

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for-gold-and-glory · 5 years

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Weekly Events for Oct 7th to Oct 13th

Here are some events G&G Members will be involved in during the week. Or just events that I think are really cool and you should definitely go to. If you’re interested in joining these events just show up or send a message to Aegir, Lirilith, or Aedwen Or join our discord: https://discord.gg/dCRSWTx

Monday - World of Light: Requiem for a Dream Pt 2 @ 8:00pm EST - Gatetown, Khoulsia, Instance 1 Tuesday - G&G Weekly: The Scent of Death @ 8:00pm EST - Lancers Guild, Old Gridania Wednesday - World of Light Extra: The Thief of Wren @ 8:00pm EST - Lakeland, Instance 1 Thursday - Sultana’s Breath Shopping Arcade - @ 8:00pm EST - 11:00pm EST - Goblet W18, Sultana’s Breath Subdivision Saturday - World of Light: The Quest for Forbidden Knowledge Pt 4 @ 4:00pm EST - Dossal Gate, the Crystarium, Instance 1 Saturday - Garlean Weekly: The Silver Coeurl Strikes Back Finale @ 8:00pm EST - Castrum Aquilonis Sunday - Primal Tour: The Navel Pt 3 @ 8:00pm EST - The Lochs

Event Status Guide: * Open, come join us = anyone who reads this is welcome to come join the RP! * Open, please check the link = used for fun events run by other people, its an open event, but check the link to see if there are any special instructions * Semi-Open = anyone who reads this can still join the RP, but contact the GM first so they can introduce you to the plot * Open to “X” = open to anyone who plays a character that fits “X” (usually Garleans), new members and alt friendly * Closed = rarely seen, but used sometimes if the event is not accepting new members, usually for plot reasons

Monday - World of Light: Requiem for a Dream Pt 2 @ 8:00pm EST - Gatetown, Khoulsia, Instance 1 - Following the battle of Lakeland, a new Sin Eater has emerged and Lirilith Maellan has been spirited away to Paradise. With Thang’s help, the Sinner’s mount a rescue. Will they get there in time? And is getting there even worth it? Probably not, with the ticket to Paradise Thang holds in his hands. Notes: This plot will replace the G&G weekly for the time being. Handle the time bubble as you want! ICly, the entire plot takes place over the first half of the summer. This will lead us into the First for additional RP. Everyone is welcome to join at any point. Alts/test characters welcome. Status: Open RP, please join us! Type: Adventure GM: Aegir Tuesday - G&G Weekly: The Scent of Death @ 8:00pm EST - Lancers Guild, Old Gridania - A frantic call for help from the Wailing Barracks sends the adventurers back to Gridania, where they believe they have unraveled the mystery behind the random ashkin attacks. But will they be able to save the Lancers in time to propose their theory, or are the Waielrs about to join the ranks of the undead? Status: Open RP, come join us! Note: If you missed Part 1, you can easily join by replying to the call for help on the Lancer Guild’s linkshell Type: Action/Adventure GM: Aegir Wednesday - World of Light Extra: The Thief of Wren @ 8:00pm EST - Lakeland, Instance 1 - The sinners receive a call for help... from Falne? The Viis has taken on a job where even she feels her skills are not adept. The world is changing, it’s becoming a world that needs adventurers, not hunters. It’s going to take more than a sword and bow to solve this mystery! Status: Open RP to anyone in the First, new players welcome! Type: Mystery GM: Falne Thursday - Sultana’s Breath Shopping Arcade - @ 8:00pm EST - 11:00pm EST - Goblet W18, Sultana’s Breath Subdivision https://for-gold-and-glory.tumblr.com/post/188196038815/balmung-sultanas-breath-shopping-arcade-monthly Saturday - World of Light: The Quest for Forbidden Knowledge Pt 4 @ 4:00pm EST - Dossal Gate, the Crystarium, Instance 1 - The Book of Shadows is not a book, but a database, one stored underneath the Crystal Tower in a secret archive. The Sinners have been given permission to seek out the archive, exploring the underbelly of the mysterious Tower. But there are all matter of monsters and traps waiting to slow them down. Who built their mysterious tower and why is it so well guarded? Notes: This plot will replace the G&G weekly for the time being. Handle the time bubble as you want! ICly, the entire plot takes place over the first half of the summer. This will lead us into the First for additional RP. Everyone is welcome to join at any point. Alts/test characters welcome. Status: Open RP, please join us! Type: Adventure GM: Aegir

Saturday - Garlean Weekly: The Silver Coeurl Strikes Back Finale @ 8:00pm EST - Castrum Aquilonis - TBA! Sunday - Primal Tour: The Navel Pt 3 @ 8:00pm EST - The Lochs https://for-gold-and-glory.tumblr.com/post/187693338995/balmung-primals-world-tour-the-navel-primal Primals: World Tour is a fun monthly Primal Battle RP we’re putting together in the wake of 5.0. With the Scions preoccupied and the Warrior of Light missing in action, it falls upon a new generation of heroes to keep Eorzea safe. Lead by the Rose Order of the Scholar Masons, adventurers, knights, and warriors from every realm are recruited to assist with the constant primal threat. Urgent News! Local intelligence reports the kobolds unearthing a new mine lush with earth crystals! In order to stop the primal threat, the Maelstrom has taken over, seizing the mines and driving the kobolds further into the mountains. Why then do they believe the beastmen have successfully summoned their earthern god? Not only is there a Titan to defeat, but a mystery as well. Something isn’t right in La Noscea. Note: You do not need to attend Pt 1 or 2 Status: Open RP, please join us! Type: Action GM: Aegir

#ffxiv rp #weekly

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tonyzekeau · 7 years

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NZ cleaning industry dispel myths surrounding handwashing

Most of us know just how important hand washing is in protecting our health. Indeed, the goal for many in the cleaning industry is to encourage everyone to wash their hands properly and frequently. Earlier this year Stephen Ashkin, president of the Ashkin Group, authored a paper on ‘the four myths surrounding hand washing’. INCLEAN NZ assistant editor Lizzie Hunter spoke to several professionals in New Zealand’s cleaning industry about some of the myths surrounding hand washing and drying.

Myth 1: Always wash hands with hot water

According to Stephen Ashkin, dubbed “the father of green cleaning”, the debate surrounding whether or not to wash hands with cold or hot water is a one of the biggest misconceptions.

“Most of us think hot water helps kill germs and bacteria on our hands. But the reality is, the water would have to be scalding hot to make that happen,” Ashkin said.

“In fact, hot water may work against us. Water that is too hot may cause us to remove our hands too quickly to wash properly. Further, researchers in Florida found that there is statistically little difference whether hands are washed in hot or cold water.”

Kimberly-Clark Professional Australia and New Zealand marketing manager Lauraine Worthington, agrees: “It’s far more important to wash your hands correctly for the right amount of time – 20 to 30 seconds – using soap and then drying them effectively to remove the bacteria.”

For Tim Macaulay, general manager of Auckland-based Coastal Products, hot versus cold water is a purely a personal preference.

“There is no clinical evidence that suggests one is better than the other,” Macaulay said.

Myth 2: Always use antibacterial soap when washing hands

Back in 2007, a study of Triclosan, which is now banned in over-the-counter antibacterial hand and body washes in the US., did not significantly reduce the number of bacteria on hands. According to Ashkin, “since then other studies have come to similar conclusions about many other antibacterial hand soaps.”

Jason Rigley, Deb ANZ marketing manager and NZ sales manager says there is no requirement to always use an antibacterial soap when washing hands, however, for high risk environments such as food processing and healthcare, antibacterial soaps are still an important part of their overall hand hygiene program.

“Safer and more effective antibacterial soaps have been developed to provide an alternative to triclosan for these markets.”

Myth 3: You don’t have to dry your hands after washing

It is common for many people to wash their hands, shake them off and then walk out the door. However, drying hands helps remove any remaining microbes on hands, plus it is easier for pathogens to collect on hands that are wet.

Kimberley Clark’s Lauraine Worthington says drying hands after washing is often considered the most critical part of the hand hygiene process.

John Stares, technical director of SPL Washrooms, a supplier of washroom equipment, says wet or damp hands can transfer up to 70,000 germs to items such as skin, food and utensils. But if hands are dried properly this number is reduced to a few hundred.

“Studies carried out at the University of Auckland have shown that the number of disease-causing germs picked up and passed on by touch depends on how wet or damp the hands are.

“The goal is to dry our hands effectively enough to eliminate the spread of germs. But when deciding what the ‘best’ method is, whether it’s using an electric hand dryer or paper towels, we need to consider whether the method will effectively dry hands enough to reduce the spread of germs and how it impacts on the environment.”

Myth 4: Using hand towels is the best way to dry hands

Coastal Products’ Tim Macaulay advises hands must be dried correctly straight after washing.

“The only clinically tested and approved way of drying hands correctly is with paper towels. All forms and brands of air driers solely blast or atomise bacteria around the surrounding area,” Macaulay said.

According to Worthington, the most effective, hygienic hand drying system is widely considered to be a disposable single sheet paper towel.

“A study conducted by the University of Westminster found that drying hands with a paper towel actually reduces bacteria on average by up to 77 per cent. When you compare that to alternative drying options that can actually increase bacteria counts – it makes good sense.”

Stares, however, disagrees, saying that modern hand dryer technology means users no longer have to wait as long as 45 seconds for some electric dryers to remove moisture from hands thoroughly.

“A high speed/ low energy hand dryer can dry hands effectively in 12-15 seconds while operating on as little as 1.1KW. With a combination of reduced dry-time and high speed, people will achieve drier and safer hands.

“Secondly, environmental impact is an important consideration. With the increasing expectation to reduce our carbon footprint, a high speed/low energy electric hand dryer is fast becoming a preference over other hand drying methods. It reduces a massive amount of land fill created by paper towels and energy consumption is vastly reduced compared to that required of an older style electric hand dryer,” he said.

The post NZ cleaning industry dispel myths surrounding handwashing appeared first on Australasia’s Cleaning Industry and Environmental Technology Magazine.

Source: https://highpowerclean.com.au/nz-cleaning-industry-dispel-myths-surrounding-handwashing/

from High Power Cleaning Melbourne https://highpowercleanau.wordpress.com/2017/08/02/nz-cleaning-industry-dispel-myths-surrounding-handwashing/

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