#vander thuun

[eights-of-spades]

Masquerade Brawl:

You can tell a lot about a person by what’s in their pockets. You can tell more by what’s in their shoes...

What’s better for team building exercises? Trust falls and kumbayah or bare-knuckled, no-holds-barred brawling? When it’s a rag-tag team of would-be criminals with mysterious motives then it’s most certainly the latter.

The Charlatan arranged an exciting little get together out in Southern Thanalan; ditching the straightforward arena method for a variety of landscapes in a small area. Rocks, ridges, desert sand and even a water hazard. The crew was gathered and paired off to blow off a little steam as well as getting to know each other a little better in the common language of thinly veiled aggression.

Aurum and Outlaw squared off, rather than simply standing around posing menacingly at each other they tried their best at first to keep it clean. Unfortunately for them and their codes of honor Felicia and Frey were facing off simultaneously in a battle that quickly devolved into kicks up to Thal, pocket sand and ‘breast crimes’. While Frey was eventually taken down with a violent de-shoeing the shenanigans spilled over into the other fight, with said crimes being enough to distract Outlaw into a blushing mess that was taken down by an opportunistic Aurum.

Slick and Knave were up next to take on the winners, having to leave their comfortable makeshift snackbar with Charlatan. Slick went head to head with the boot-bandit Felicia to avenge the fallen Frey, showing her a few tricks of her own with a deadly use of shoe-fu. Meanwhile Aurum had to deal with Knave’s showboating antics and saliva-based tricks. While the fights were fierce, Felicia was too powerful despite sandy cleavage and the questionably-good doctor was taken down. Aurum was eventually forced to yield or risk a loogie being dripped on bare skin.

By that time the day as well as the excess energy had run out, allowing Charlatan to skate by without a round. This time...

Charlatan: @guttergodsknife

Knave: @eights-of-spades

Aurum: @atomicdeke

Outlaw: @the-wanted-man

Felicia: @twofaced-xiv

Frey: @sola-ffxiv

Slick: @lazne-of-the-urit

((OOC: Special Thanks to @lazne-of-the-urit for additional screenshots))

[hexmachina]

🌺

[Jaaster]

"Couldn't even look me in the eye... How is it that he became a Director?..." As per usual, her staccato monotone is absent any of the curiosity or concern that might soften this statement. But the priestess splays her fingers over the seemingly judgmental line of her mouth and continues, "...No, I shouldn't question it. The Lady Advocate knows her own people than I would on paper. It's a good position - he'll learn a lot from it."

A long silence. Finally: "...I liked his hound. Rollo. He was very - well behaved. I was afraid of my mother's - there's a wildness that never really goes away, you know... - but I can see how the respect for his weapons would extend to the people under him. Jaaster keeps him well fed. He had a good - smile."

This is said with enough awkward reluctance that you're unsure if she's speaking of Jaaster or his hound.

[Vander]

"...Hmm." Vander is not known for titheing, and his attitudes towards the dead don’t entirely seem to align with the Order’s, at surface level. But of all the things one could possibly think a priestess of the Traders would be offended by, Lux merely mutters, "...He assumed the ashkin was a friend, first."

She doesn’t elaborate, at first, instead averts her gaze and continues, "If you ignore his tendencies to bring out the worst in men of the cloth, he'd be a valuable asset to the Order. Aetherially gifted, especially now that I know he’s not just spinning stories about spirits for a lark. He'd laugh, but I think he /was/ called to the Ossuary, in a way... He’s valuable."

[But this is a question about what you /like./]

"...I've only ever seen him approach strangers with kindness and respect, regardless of the circumstances or the potential dangers. It's not just a willingness to entertain, either - it's a desire to hear someone's voice, no matter how quiet or uncertain. And that respect of his isn't merely extended to the living - either. That’s a quality that’s rarer still when one's natural inclination towards the dead is to draw back in fear. That's so --" Not Ul'dahn. Not Gridanian, either.

"I liked talking to him, alone. He had my back in front of the others in the Order - was willing to entirely provoke a kind of dangerous attention onto himself to prevent any questions about my association. He had no reason to think that I was any different - that I wouldn’t just trump up charges of necromancy and report his place of business to the Ul’dahn consulate - ...but he gave me a chance. Let me choose the subject of our first potential collaboration. Showed up without questions and without so much as flashing the edge of a knife to me. So... I do extend my trust to him - his character."

She's thinking of red, now, though - the memory of dim light eclipsing the color of his eyes, the feeling of her aether drawing across his to reveal some subtle flaw. And just like that, she's back in the realm of careful professionalism, "But I'm not - ...negotiating with just him alone, and I don't know the terms of the agreements he's already forged or had forced on him."

[atomicdeke]

--GAME OVER--

(Warning: Violence, blood, and death after the cut)

Thanks for the prompt, @stormandozone!

The clank of chains echoed down the hall as Vander was half-marched, half-dragged from his cell. The guards on either side of him had taunted him for days, making bets on how long he would last if he got the noose, or if the first round would do him in if he was put up on the wall, or if the court would decide that a more unusual sentence fit his crimes. One leaned in with a sneer. “Sentence’s in, pirate. Would ya like a hint of ‘ow yer gonna go?” Vander lifted his head to meet the guard’s eyes with a smile. “Oh, I heard. Your mother should get a medal, the way she gives everyone in the block a last-” He was cut off as the guard slammed his fist in Vander’s face, and his partner clubbed the Duskwight to the floor. 

Vander tried his best to curl up, but the manacles chaining his hands and feet together impeded his movement, so the guards’ boots found every soft spot possible. After what felt like an eternity, they hauled him to his feet, and the first guard backhanded him before snarling, “Gag ‘im! I don’t wanna hear ‘is smart mouth no more!” The Elezen struggled in vain, snapping at fingers and getting another cuff or two about the ears for his trouble. Finally silenced, Vander glared as the first guard grabbed him by the chin. “You’ll see what’s comin’ soon enough, pirate.” 

Minutes passed like hours before they finally arrived in the tribunal’s chambers, Maelstrom banners hanging in every corner and over each table. The panel of officers sat on a riser, ceremonial robes spotless as the records they boasted. The one chairing the panel cleared his throat and began reading from the scroll, not even deigning to lay eyes on the prisoner. “Vander Thuun, you have been found guilty of arson, unlawful piracy, murder, and treason. For your crimes, you are sentenced to die by firing squad. Your name will be expunged from our rolls, and your deeds lost to history. May the Navigator guide you unto the deepest depths to be forgotten and damned forever.” With that, the officer rolled up the scroll, and the members of the panel rose and filed out of the room.

As the guards dragged him out to the courtyard, Vander wondered how it had all happened. He’d gotten too comfortable, complacent, and he’d paid with his freedom. Someone must have sold him out. Someone he’d trusted. He hoped the reward was worth it, because if there was anything out there listening, he’d linger on after death and terrorize the backstabbing bastard to an early grave of their own. Suddenly, he was pushed up against the wall, and a thick bag was pulled over his head as his manacles were hooked up to a post to hold him still. It didn’t seem real anymore. This was beginning to move too quickly for him.

“MAKE READY!”

The roll of boots stepping into position, the rustling of cloth and leather as the soldiers raised their muskets - in this moment, all sounds rang sharper in his ear. He pulled at the post with all his might, but to no avail. There wasn’t enough time.

“TAKE AIM!”

No, he wasn’t ready yet. There was still so much to see, to do, to say. A tide was swelling inside him, giving voice to an unearthly roar as he strained with every fiber of his being. He wasn’t going to go like -

“FIRE!”

He heard the thunder, the rattle of chains, his body dropping limply to the ground, but he felt none of it. All he felt was fire, then nothing.

[eights-of-spades]

A Joker’s Shuffle: Shorthanded Part 2

Upon reaching the upper floors of the mansion, the crew was rejoined by Felica. While the others had been busy rubbing elbows and creating a diversion she had been busily mapping out the upper floors. It was a simple enough matter to find where they were supposed to be going but far more difficult to get there. 

They were blocked by a strange security system. While they had previously lifted a key they soon found, after Frey’s suggestion, that the scanner could be interrupted by dumping a convenient pot overtop of it. Knave proved to have less of an aether signature than a dinner roll and was therefore able to sneak up close enough to drop the pot into place. The crew was then free to move on.

Using a tip found hastily scribbled on a note dropped into Knave’s pocket, Aurum managed to trip a clock-puzzle-lock, opening the secret staircase that comes standard-issue in any self-respecting villains personal lair. 

From there chaos ensued as the crew was unable to crack a safe. Seeing no other option, the crew decided that the only option left to them was to blow the safe and run. Knave remained in the secret room with Remy to rig the explosives while the others left to start looting. They were nearly cut off from their prizes by wandering guards but a twist of fate and one overly-dramatic socialite with champagned spilled on his beautiful dress (again) saved their chance to grab whatever they could land their grubby paws on.

Documents destroyed, paintings grabbed, haunted music boxes looted and one terrible prize (that only Aurum was mad enough to touch) taken... all in all a job well pulled.

@guttergodsknife @bootanicals @atomicdeke @sola-ffxiv @twofaced-xiv

[eights-of-spades]

A Joker’s Shuffle: Shorthanded Part 1

After receiving instructions from the mysterious Charlatan a gang of strangers with various ties to the underworld worked together to hatch up a plan. 

Their goal: to infiltrate a high-end party, cause chaos then escape with damning documents and whatever expensive bits of shiny they can grab along the way.

Remarche “Remy": Hired as the entertainment for the night, the scruffy bard was hidden in plain sight. He entertained guests and his accomplices not only with his creative covers of popular showtunes but by drinking the dreaded ‘purple drink’ and spending the next bell or so seeing auras in eye-searing neon detail.

Frey "Jehanne Deumont”: Playing the role of Ishgardian nobility flawless, Frey was able to charm the hostesses and every other guest they spoke to. Using their natural charm and beauty it was easy work for them to dazzle a guard, winning him over and stealing an important item from right around the man’s neck.

Aurum “Rahadin al-Salih”: Under the alias of a Near-Eastern Aristocrat hanging on Jehanne’s arm; Aurum was free to move throughout the party. Speaking with guests and gathering information. When the time came for a distraction, he was all too glad to kick up a scuffle with a Far-Eastern entourage and their hot-headed bodyguard.

Knave “The Help”: Knave loves a chance to wear a disguise and this was no exception. Playing the role of The Waiter, he was given access to the backstage of the production, locating access and exit points as well as observing the passing of an important item between the guards. Playing the doting help, he was able to help guide the higher-profile crew members without drawing suspicion.

After clearing the dancefloor and sneaking past the upstairs guard, the crew moves ever closer towards their goal. It remains to be seen if they’ll be able to grab the goods and get back out again unscathed...

@guttergodsknife @bootanicals @atomicdeke 

[hexmachina]

💭

Lux, about Vander: No concrete and verbalized thought - only the poring over every single conversation she’s had with him in her mind to calculate the probability that Vander has the kind of money to outright afford the outfit she’d seen him wear last. Where would the money come from? What would he do with it?

...Likely nothing he should tell her about, unfortunately.

Lux, about Jaaster: “Oh. I was reminded the other day that some nobles in Ul’dah choose to leave parts of their estate to their pets... I should forward him a brochure. He should be aware of his options.”

[atomicdeke]

👎 for avenai!

The Duskwight, deep in his cups, groans and puts his face in his hands. “I mislike walking on eggshells, and nowhere do I feel I must I tread more carefully than around her, else she’ll retreat into her shell.” Vander takes a long pull from the bottle, swaying a bit as he starts to tip back, then shift back upright before grabbing the armrest and slapping the table for emphasis. “There’s no satisfaction to be found in measured and muted displays, no release to be had. Laugh! Cry! Scream! I don’t want to see you throw someone across the sand because it’s the ‘optimal means of achieving victory’, or some other mechanical rot. I want to see you throw someone because that will make you feel good! You don’t beat on the whoreson twice your size and thrice your weight because it’s sensible! No, you do it because it’s fucking fun!”

Breathing heavy from shouting, Vander slumps back in his chair, apparently having run out of steam. He lists to one side, elbow on the armrest and face dropping into one hand. “Just...fun.”

[eights-of-spades]

💭💭

Vander

I’m pretty sure I’m growing on him. Sometimes I think he thinks I’m actually funny, I can kind of see it his expression changes by a fraction of an ilm that almost makes it looks like he’s smiling. We’re winning him over little by little.

-bonus-

Haunted haunted haunted haunted HAUNTED-- SERIOUSLY DOES THIS BOTHER NO ONE BUT ME AND RASHK?!?!

 Jaaster

Didn’t really get a chance to get a good impression, I’m not really one of those ‘friendships through battle’. Do you know how hard it is to try and get a feel for someone when you’re also trying not to let them smash your face in?? Unless we’re talking literal feels, too bad I didn’t get a chance to cop one of those during the fights.