All characters can be found on Crystal Data Center, Balmung Server
Lebeaux Desrosiers
Militant Orthodox Ishgardian Chirurgeon, currently in something of a self-imposed exile in protest to the Reformation. Can be found around Eorzea (except for Ishgard) or Kugane.
Antagonistic
Problematic
Will make life difficult
High Maintenance
@blackrose-ffxiv
Anselme de Haillenarte
The Iron Roots. Reformist Apologist Ishgardian highborn. Out-of-work Knight since the war ended doing his best to try and find a new purpose.
Friendly / Cheerful / Upbeat
Trying his Best
Accidentally makes life difficult
HQ Himbo
@iron-roots
Jyhun Arun
The Gloomy Graveskeeper. A Xaela who has given up his tribal roots and made a home in Ul’dah. Thaumaturge, acolyte of Thal/The Ossuary and researcher of Black Magic. Aether tracker and interpreter, specializing in forensic applications. Undertaking is his side gig.
Awkward/Creepy/Gloomy
Means well
Will make life difficult
Not so bad once you get to know him
@chief-mourner
Eight (Ma’sae Pohju)
Two-gil street thief with delusions of grandeur. Ul’dahn Alchemist, conman, rogue and general ne’er-do-well. Former gang leader now supposedly on the straight an narrow as he does community service after being arrested and exiled to the Far East for a time.
It was the quiet part of the late afternoon in the Airship Landing, the golden hours before dinner service and return trips, and long after the dockworkers had finished the early morning deliveries. There were a few patrons there, mostly solo travelers in between legs of their journey or quiet groups of tradesworkers relaxing after their shifts - and Lux Lunseer, tucked away in a shady corner, with a shady companion of her own. Lux seemed to be hard at work at not paying a fair amount of attention to the man sitting across from her - but she was predisposed to vacant, judgmental glares, and the grim line of her mouth was not altogether uncommon. They had been there for a while - the man had a glass of ale that was nearly drained, and Lux a cup of tea that was barely touched but had long since gone cold. There was a stack of paperwork in front of her that she was studiously pouring through, occasionally commenting on to her associate, too quiet to pick out from across the room.
Eight was currently propped up in the only remaining chair. Leaning back with his ale resting on his belly and his boots predictably up on the edge of the table, legs crossed at the ankle. His tail swayed and curled lazily, ears tilted in the general direction of the restaurant’s entrance. He spoke quietly in return to the woman, a crooked grin sometimes indicating a joke or a bit of teasing though the Priestess didn’t seem to react to the goading. Eight knew full well once their ‘esteemed guest’ arrived he’d have to shove over and make some room. But he intended to wait until the very last second to do so.
Rashk Geilt arrives in an impressive billow of fine fabrics and long hair, the steps of his high heels audible from quite a distance. Any play at the ‘alleycat’ story Daijiro started has been abandoned in favour of the Keeper donning his usual impeccable socialite look—now with an artful touch of straight-out-of-bed debauchery. Judging by the flawless make-up, he definitely isn’t actually straight out of bed no matter the lies his long hair tries to tell. “Captain Lunseer,” he greets cheerfully like one might an old friend. The shady friend is given a cursory glance. “You’re just full of surprises. First a dinner invitation over a mysterious note and now I find you already entertained by a stranger? I’m simply dying to hear what’s going on.” He drags out the 'simply dying' a touch like the upper social circles have a habit of doing, the rest of his pronunciation impeccable on every syllable.
Lux was not the first to notice him - she seems to glance up at some twitch of her companion's ears, her gaze locking on the form of a man who looked nothing like who she encountered at the club. "Lord Geilt," the Priestess reflexively murmurs in response, getting to her feet in an instinctive adherance to etiquette. Somewhere in the middle of her perfunctory bow she seems to register the rest of what he just said - when she is upright again, her gaze is pointedly averted, her ears tilting outwards in a distinctly harassed-looking angle. She is -- sure that she worded the note to -- not sound like whatever Rashk was saying -- perhaps she should've had it reviewed. Lux lapses into an awkward silence, staring south-east of Rashk's fine coat. "...Good evening," is all she manages to come up with.
Eight tilted a long ear in the direction of the very obvious sounds of heels on stonework. His head tilted, backwards and up to peer over his shoulder without vacating his seat to watch the approach of the other miqo’te. His grin grew somewhat, flashing fang as he appreciated the gaudy coat and over-styled hair. The upper half of his face was hidden behind a mask, obscuring just where he was looking but from the length of time he held that position there was a good chance it was everywhere. The rogue moved off of the seat in sort of a calculated rolling motion that brought his boots off of the table and onto the ground, without spilling a drop of his drink. He rose up and then immediately dipped into a bow that could only be called theatrical. “Lord Geilt.” He greeted as well, snatching a sandwich from a tray laid out now that company had finally arrived. “I’m surprised the Captain didn’t let you know she turned your dinner for two into a threesome.” Eight noted as he circled around being Rashk, taking in the view from the other side, as he made his way to lean against the railing. “Nice flash, mighty fancy.”
It was not entirely clear what Taji Tumet sold out here, except she did it without having to pay into the licensing structure of the Eorzean Alliance and without fear of inspection by Idyllshire's non-existant law enforcement. Nothing looked to be of much value at first glance; the sacks had the texture of sand when poked, and a half-open crate bearing the stamp of 'ARUN ALCHEMICAL' only showed a top layer of rocks. The rest was just scrap lumber. The Xaela had just finished a loud and frankly nonsensical conversation with a goblin, who was reassuring her that windsails would be available the end of the next span, and that no, he did not want to buy dirtsponges. "But these mushrooms are very good," Taji was insisting, palms flat against the counter, leaning over it and flashing plenty of teeth at the smaller creature. "Very fresh. You like VEGETABLES don't you."
Eight was ‘blending’. Also known as overdressing for any occasion. His favorite pastime that didn’t include drinking or stealing things. He was incognito as your run of the mill adventurer/craftsman. The miqo’te sauntered up to Taji’s counter, resting his elbow on the stall’s top as he grinned in a way that clearly said he was up to no good. Looking between Taji and the goblin she was trying to pawn some mushrooms to. The goblin and Taji. Back and forth. “Best dirt sponges you’ll find outside the Shroud. Have you ever had one? They’ll make your braincage explode with flavor.” He declared, making the mind-blown gesture with the hand he wasn’t currently propped up. “I came here all the way from Southern Thanalan just to buy them. Good thing you don’t want them now I can have them all to myself.”
Taji visibly brightened at Eight's appearance, flashing him an appreciative lopsided grin that was indistinguishable from any other threat display but for the excited twitching of her feathered tail. "Gobbies already have many eatplants..." The creature protested in between audibly ragged puffs through its mask. It seemed somewhat impressed to be addressed directly by such a fine specimen of engineering, though - Eight could have easily passed for any of the magitek technicians that came to the area to assist the goblins restore Sharlayan technology. "...Did this one really fly all the way from sand castle to buy these?”
“...Yeah, did you?" Taji asked him, curiously, fingers splayed over the side of her mouth to render the question inaudible to her hapless customer. She banged her fist against the table and gestured to the withered purple fungi, "And these will flavor your eatplants. Buy them. Buy them. Three hundred gil. Buy them. I'm supporting your business, you should support mine! Else I will ask this fine gentleman where he docks his airship."
Ma’sae remained leaning rakishly against the counter, plainly enjoying the spotlight as he seemed to have both Taji and the gobbie eating up his performance. He picked up one of the mushrooms tossing it up into the air before catching it and turning his hand over to show the tiny beastman. “Of course! The shroud doesn’t do business with outsiders like you and me, friend!” He declared to the Goblin. “But this fine lady has product for all! Best taste, best prices. Fairest trades. Now while I said I was going to buy them all myself, I would feel terrible if I sent you off without even a few after telling you how great they are. Too cruel, too cruel.” He declared as he set the mushroom down on the counter in front of the prospective buyer. “Go on, get what you need for you and your loved ones. They’ll thank you. I’ll buy after you.”
The goblin had begun babbling to itself as it set a money pouch on the counter and pushed it towards the dark-scaled purveyor without committing to letting go of it - plainly nervous at Taji's cheerful threats to revoke her business. Ma'sae's reassuring pitch had it looking at the basket in a new light - and so the jinglyshine was exchanged, and the goblin waddled off happily with a few additions to its stew. >
"Thanks for your participation in the food chain!" Taji called out after it, swiping the money pouch before Eight could get to it and tossing it up in the air. She tracked its motion up in the air with the angle of her shoulders, and it landed in her hood. She turned to the other Keeper and beamed at him. "Two hundred and ninety-eight gil," she informed him. "Family discount! Especially if you haven't bought Starlight gifts, yet? Lux loves reminders from the Shroud!"
Eight snorted and picked up one of the mushrooms, wiping some of the dirt off of it before he took a bite. He immediately made a face and set the bitten mushroom back down on the basket where he had retrieved it from. “Nope. I still hate mushrooms.” He declared cheerfully. “Nah, not gonna buy any but you’re welcome for the extra sales. ANOTHER BUT. I will in the future. How do you feel about custom orders.”
Taji paused at the question, tracking the motion of the mushroom he had just put back. Her grin lessed by several degrees; her eyebrows settled unevenly over the scandalized squint of her eyes. "You think you can just come to my place of business and bite my wares? Do I come to your warehouse and randomly drink out of your potion bottles and fill it up with water to disguise what I've done?!" She did. Taji just reached over to yank the offending item out of the basket and finish the job, finally answering around a mouthful of bitter fungus. "What kind of order? I didn't think you were interested in my line of business, but--" She swallowed. "You wouldn't be the most unlikely customer I've had."
Eight grinned and waggled his thick brows as he was scolded. It was just a stupid mushroom. “Listen, what I’m bringing here is gonna be worth more than an entire turn’s worth of fungus.” He promised as he leaned further onto the counter to lower his voice. “What’s a mage’s prize possession. The thing they value more than even their stacks of books, stuffy robes and fancy sticks.”
Taji gave him a dubious look, finishing the rest of the mushroom in a series of thoughtful and unladylike bites as she considered the riddle. 'Hats' seemed like the right answer, and she mimed flicking up the brim of some feathered monstrosity she currently wasn't wearing. "Their heart," she said instead. "Even if they have nothing else, they've still got one last thing to barter away."
“Great, that’s good.” He declared, pointing a finger gun at Taji as though to indicate she’d shot the target dead-on. “But I can’t sell them an extra heart for double the dubious decisions. But what’s almost as good as an extra heart…” He began, then decided maybe this wasn’t the best game to play with Taji. She had an artist’s spirit and a bard’s mind. She’d come up with something from way out in the far fields and he’d spend all day dragging her back. “Soul crystals.” He answered for her. “Crystalized knowledge and intuition to let them unlock unknown potentials.”
Taji slammed her hand down on the table, sending the entire thing shuddering - but it had been heavily reinforced by steel to withstand even the most energetic of xaelic monk gestures. "Aetheric fungi," she declared, apparently agreeing with him. This was the good thing about Idyllshire - they could talk about such things out in the open without fear of having it carry to the wrong set of ears. "The fastest path to reincarnation. Yeah. As good as selling an extra heart. Or charging them for removing theirs and hiding it away somewhere." She propped her elbows on the table, plainly intrigued. "...You're bringing me some? Are you -- err." Eight didn't actually read the reports, and Taji wasn't convinced Jyhun was honest about what they'd recovered from the corpse.
Eight lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Here’s the problem. Lots of people want them, almost nobody has them.” He explained plucking a mushroom and setting it down on the countertop. Then a few carrots as well. “One mushroom for all these carrots. Doesn’t work. Only one gets it. Not a huge problem because mushrooms can be grown.” He dropped a few more onto the counter as well. Mostly just making a mess now rather than actually illustrating anything useful. “Now what’s say we could grow soulstones.”
Rashk Geilt slips inside the run-down building, flicking his tail out from between the door moments before it closes. A bothersome feeling of being watched made him alter his intended course after a long night of socialising, his senses for such much sharper than Quinten’s. He pretends it’s a lovely early morning for prayer while stepping out of the direct line of sight of any who might enter in his wake, mentally going through where he hid the knives under his extravagant attire. None of them are in easy reach when one favours subtlety over a quick draw, but he hopes there won’t be a need to reach for them in the first place.
Eight had been following the extravagantly dressed miqo’te for the better part of the morning into the early afternoon. He was hard to miss, really. Between the mass of hair and the sort of gilded plumage that would look more at home on a stage during a Grand Revue Extravaganza than on the Ruby Road exchange. Perhaps he had gotten lazy, perhaps Rashk was that good, but once the fortune-teller changed direction suddenly for a side street Ma’sae suspected that he had been made somewhere along the way. No matter! The rogue followed anyways, pushing up the fabric he had pulled low over his pale eye with one hand while the other slipped into a fold of his overcoat, seeking out the well-worn handle of a knife as he slipped inside. He winked his dark eye shut, immediately seeking out the drifting motes of aether and which direction they were headed as he stepped into the luxurious shrine. His attention whipped to the left and both eyes opened as he grinned brightly.
Rashk‘s expression is still caught in a look of tension when Eight turns to face him much faster than anticipated and the Keeper’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing. He lets the look evolve into a haughty sort of frown to play off the mood their previous meeting had ended in. “Oh, it’s you,” he says in that tone one might use when discovering a truly unpleasant door-to-door salesperson at their home. “Is the Captain really so desperate to ‘help’ me with my affairs that she must have her underlings interrupt my prayers?” His tone might be lazy, but his gaze isn’t lacking in intensity, flicking down to the other man’s hands as he takes the other’s appearance in, trying to gauge the likelihood that this is, in fact, an assassination attempt.
Eight, rather than looking embarrassed at being ‘made’ by the mysterious miqo’te, beamed in delight instead. He took his hand out of his coat and reached up to remove the turban meant to hide his mismatched eyes and protect the tips of his precious ears from the Ul’dahn midday sun. Nothing worse than sunburnt ears. He rolled the fabric idly as he wandered over in Rashk’s general direction. “Nah, she’d probably yell at me for interrupting you during prayers. If you were really praying. Honestly I expected more of an…” a hand waved casually like he was looking for the word. “Ambush situation. I walk in and a bunch of thugs jumps out. Though, it’s hard to see you putting up with your run of the mill thugs. Maybe well-dressed dandies on hard times or burly bandits crammed into ill-fitting smoking jackets.” He suggested cheerfully, plainly imagining what Rashk’s ‘street gang’ would look like.
Rashk‘s boot scrapes the stone as he moves one foot back like he might’ve been about to take a step back when Eight approaches, but his calf bumps against the bench and he halts the motion, gaze briefly flicking to the side and then returning to the other Keeper. “I think you’ll find that you’re the thug in this scenario and I’m prone to believing that you’re after my coin. The Captain isn’t paying you enough so you’re taking up extracurricular activities, perhaps?” His ears flick, rising only to fall flat against his head again. “Your sort usually do run in packs, don’t they, so you would know what to expect from such scenarios. All out of friends, or are they hiding outside from Nald’thal’s judgement?”
Eight took another step closer. Maybe it was just a pleasant change of pace to be the ‘thug’ rather than the one trying to fast-talk his way out of the corner. “Ohh? I mean, I’m not going to turn you upside down and shake to see what falls out, but donations are always accepted and will grant you repayment plus interest in the afterlife.” He offered cheerfully, taking another small step to see if he could make Rashk trip on the bench he had cornered himself against. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a man of the Gods now, had to give up the gang along with betting on the birds and smoking. So, from one faithful to another,” he teased as he tilted his head to shake some dark hair out of his eyes, the grin tilting to one side jaggedly. “What’s got you so spooked.”
Rashk tenses up but doesn’t take that stumbling step back, feeling the bench against the backs of his legs. He no longer likes his own positioning, forced to mentally create back up plans such as ‘jump through the window’ or ‘throw him through it first’. His mask of haughty disdain is impressive—except for the unspoken language of his tail, the flicking movement of it an anxious shadow behind the hem of Rashk’s dramatic bird coat. “Oh, a reformed villain, that certainly puts my mind at ease,” he can’t help but snipe. “Forgive me for not taking your word for it and seeming ‘spooked’ when strange men from the streets speak to me. Is a donation going to make you leave me be, then?” He says ‘donation’ in a tone that suggests he would’ve considered ‘a bribe to avoid a mugging’ a more appropriate expression for the situation.
Eight‘s own tail swayed back and forth lazily. Plainly amused by the situation. He didn’t step any closer, noting the tense way Rashk held himself as well as the anxious flick of the shorter man’s tail. If he pushed it much further the other may be forced to react. He seemed like the sort to go for the face, too. “It could, but probably not, let’s be honest.” He chuckled and took a step back instead, holding up his empty hands to show he meant no harm. Graciously allowing Rashk to step away from the corner he had wedged himself into. He backed up even further, taking a step onto the offering pool to perch there comfortably. “I actually came here to talk about Quinten. Calling the man an idiot would be an offense to hard-working saps like myself. The guy’s stupid and mean. Dangerous combination, even in the best of situations.”
Rashk absolutely would’ve gone for the face. People rarely managed a smug smirk with a broken nose, not for a few moments at least. His gaze flicks to the raised hands and he watches Eight closely as the other Keeper backs up. Only after he’s near the fountain does Rashk venture from the corner, maintaining a distance even if this doesn’t seem to be progressing to desperate measures anymore. Upon mention of Quinten, he blinks. “I did rather suggest so, didn’t I?” He pauses and there’s something sharper in his gaze now, a barely noticeable narrowing of his eyes like a watered-down version of his previous death glare. “And did you inform him that he’s no longer the first in line to his mother’s fortune once she’s called into Thal’s halls?”
Eight barked out a laugh nearly as crooked as his grin. “Hells no!” He declared brightly. “I don’t know about you, but getting my ribs kicked in by a bunch of inbred, weak-chinned, pig-eyed dandies and their hired muscles isn’t my idea of a good time.” His tail draped over the edge of the pool, hanging over the dry side to flick lightly in amusement before it returned to languid swaying. “Which is to say, that’s very likely going to be your fate when the truth comes out. Have you made any preparations for that eventuality? Vengeance orders, wills, maybe arrangements to get rid of him before it happens. It isn’t fratricide if you pay someone else to do it.”
A fun little scene with some new friends! Keldorin posing as a knight named Dogsbane, named by Phi ( @tinycatteandfriends ) posing as Oleander. First time getting to RP with Lux ( @rootstorm ) and Ma’sae ( @masaepohju ) Blast meeting you both and getting to have the characters interact while all under their guises!
Bonus picture of Kelly giving his surrogate daughter a big hug on their walk back to The Goblet.
