Announcement

**OrganizationXV** · July 6th, 2015, 09:59 PM

Cirrus walked down the busy streets of Puerto De Oro, taking in the festive atmosphere. The lights hung on strings criss-crossing above the streets, the smell of all kinds of fried foods wafting through the breeze, even the upbeat chatter of the crowd meandering to their destinations gave off a certain cheer that you could only get around Requiem time. Naturally, the mood was often ruined somewhat by some people getting too wrapped up in the festivities.

"Get back here, ya dastard!" A slurring voice boomed through the crowd. Several heads turned (Cirrus' included) to find a man standing in a door frame and yelling at another man who was stumbling over to the road proper. The stumbling one just laughed hysterically and kept going.

The guy in the doorway's face clouded over with anger. Cirrus noticed this and picked up his pace, getting closer to the squabbling pair. The drunk one had no idea what was happening when he got punched in the back of the head by his acquaintence, and stumbled to the ground.

"You and I still have business!" he shouted, cocking back for another quick shot before the alcoholic could recover. Cirrus got between the two and caught the aggressor's fist before it found its target again.

"No, you don't," Cirrus countered, staring him down.

"Do you know what he did to me?"

"I don't care. If it's worth beating him, do it when he can fight back, not when his back's to you."

The victim of assault got up shakily, and decided to fight back. He turned and swiped at his opponent, but Cirrus pushed him away. The three struggled on for a while, Cirrus always staying in the middle between them. He was really starting to miss his armor after only a little while, with all the glancing hits he took.

**World Order** · July 6th, 2015, 10:13 PM

A dark room brightened with a single candle light filled with thousands of books new, and aged, surrounded Gregory at his work table. He rocked back and fourth in his wooden chair finishing up his latest book "Death Omens: Book 2".

"We'll never be the same again. All I hope is that we will only go back to what we once was-"

"Clunk.....clunk clunk" goes a fairly hard knock on the wooden door. "Grandfather? Come in..." he said while closing his book softly. He turned back so he would face his grandfather should he enter.

Gregory's grandfather peeked in first and opened his eyes in amazement like it always did. In came a hunched old man with a wooden cane and long gray beard. "Hehe damn boy you sure do love to read!! & Sheesh my boy! Its so god damn dark in here open a window or something!" he said. With a wave of his hand Gregory's grandfather magically opened the windows of Gregory's room. In this setting, shelves and such looked fairly aged.

Grandfather dusted of his hands and clapped loudly twice slightly irritating Gregory. "Anyways! I wanted to tell you the 22nd Centennial celebration for the Four Warriors of Light is in a couple weeks and I want you to go out and take a break from all these books!" he said energetically. "But master, all I need is my books...plus its going to be so loud" he said looking off into the window at the town in the distance. His old wooden house was located on a hill not too far off from the town where the celebration was held.

"And that's [b]exactly[b] why you'll go Gregory. You need a break of all this studying. Hell...you'll probably find something to do out there! Remember Greg....you made a promise to yourself and we mages never go back on our promises do you understand?" he said sternly. "Yes..." Greg replied.

~4 weeks later~

Holding his dark staff which contained a purple crystal encased at its end, Gregory walked out of the narrow forest path and onto the main road towards the town. He put on his hood only leaving his nose and mouth exposed by light. Already he could hear the loud screams and cheers in celebration of the Four Warriors of Light, he paused for a quick moment and sighed.

"Here we go" he said a tad bit low.

He continued his journey, eventually his presence became digested by the massive amount of people around him. He looked around interested in little magical items that were for sale, instead, he bought a children's book("Hey Mr.Warrior!") and sat on a bench in the towns square. He placed his staff over his robes and opened the book.

**Mae Borowski** · July 6th, 2015, 10:39 PM

Edina Blackrose, the Rogue, held a Phoenix Down to the sunlight, inspecting it to make sure she had the real deal. Her black lips spread into a smile as she looked down at the crippled man who had turned it over to her. Tears ran down his cheeks while the goons who broke his legs held him by his collar, forcing him to look at her.

"I must thank you, friend.. these trinkets become ever harder to come by as the years pass unforgivably. As you can see, I don't take too kindly to businessmen who won't do business.." She stashed the Phoenix Down in her inventory, then leaned closer to his face. "..but thanks for the gift. I owe you one." Edina closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the man's. While giving him a long, soft kiss, she pressed Poppy, her favorite pistol, to his chest, pulling the trigger to his heart.

Edina stood up and looked out the window. "Today marks the celebration of their heroes.. how very superstitious they are." She turned and left the room. "Take any cash and valuables you find and bring it to the hideout," she told her men, and they obeyed. She went out to observe the Crystal Requiem, hoping to find something interesting.

**Post-Crisis Shob** · July 6th, 2015, 11:44 PM

"...And that was the third time I wrassled a Sand Shark!" Captain Hellfish finishes his tavern yarn to raucous laughter and eye-rolling disbelief. "OY!" He drains the last of his drinking horn and pounds a heavily armored fist against a tavern table. "MORE WENCHES! MORE MEAD!"

A buxom serving girl moves to attend.

The Hellfish has heard many a tale of it in many a port-of-call; Puerto de Oro's celebration of the Crystal Requiem is a festival like no other. The rum is weaker then he has been led to believe, and the whores uglier. But the city is alight with revelers of every creed. The men drink and boast and brawl and the women are loose with their virtue. The Hellfish approves of this gathering.

"SINNERS! IDOLATERS! FORNICATORS! WHORES!" A sickly old priest denounce the revelry. "THIS WAS TO BE A HOLY DAY; A SOLEMN VIGIL OF OUR DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL!"

"Eh? Whats this now?" The Hellfish raises his drinking horn in challenge. "What er yer babblin' about ye old coot?"

"ON THIS DAY FOUR BLESSED SOULS MADE THE GREATEST SACRIFICE FOR ALL MAN KIND! HONOR THE HEROES WHO FOUGHT! HONOR THE WORLD THEY SAVED!" The old priest recites the legend of the Light Warriors and admonishes the revelers for dishonoring their sacrifice with such vulgar debaucheries.

"Aye; four old whore-sons and thier godstones saved the world. And I'm the Queen of Diamonds!" Captain Hellfish mocks and gropes a tavern girl and drinks anew, clearly unimpressed with this legend of the Light Warriors. He bites into a leg of lamb. "OY! THIS MUTTON IS RAW!"

The tavern staff scramble to find a leg that pleases him before he starts breaking things, and the old priest walks away shaking his head.

**Max** · July 7th, 2015, 11:21 AM

"Here's a list of your targets, Luciano. They're to be taken care of by the end of the day, you got it?" Said a hushed voice. The voice belonged to a middle aged man whom sat in a large throne like chair surrounded by numerous body guards and scantily clad whores. They were in a dimly lit room located in an underground tavern, this particular room was where the tavern owner, the man sitting in the throne, would do his illegal dealings in private. The male reached into his coat pocket to pull out the list of targets for Luciano to take care of. "I trust that this won't be too much for you?"

The man he was addressing, Luciano, was a hired assassin who took jobs from wealthy men. His attire was nothing special, he wore a simple black hooded button up shirt and a pair of black pants. The one abnormal thing about him was the mask he wore, a white one with black eyes and a crooked black smile that seemed to create a vibe of uneasiness in the room. "Not at all. Though I have to ask..." The masked assassin approached the man, prompting a few inexperienced bodyguards to step forward to protect thier boss. The tavern owner simply raised his hand and the men backed off. "Aren't you aware that today is a holiday, and a holy one at that? Why give me this long list today of all days? Surely if someone found out about this, you could get in alot of trouble with the law, and with Karma if you believe in that stuff." He grabbed the list and read it.

"The murderer is talking to me about Karma." The boss laughed. "I never pegged you for one to believe in that sort of thing anyway. If anything, you should be the one that's worried." He grinned.

"We're both murderers, even though you're simply a cowardly one." Luciano chuckled. "How much will you be paying me this time?"

"Hah hah! When there's money involved, you have no qualms about the things you do, not even this. But since you're asking, everyone will be out celebrating the holiday. That'll make finding and killing them easy for you. All that talk about Karma... you're just messing with me, aren't you?"

"There are higher powers at work that you, or nobody for that matter, truly understands. I'm simply doing my job. If I'm to be punished for it, then so be it. Now, how much am I being payed for this job?"

"3000." The boss muttered. "That sounds reasonable, yes?"

"I'm doubling the price for you bothering me on a holiday. Well, I'll be going then. See you soon." Luciano waved goodbye before turning to leave the room.
"The majority of the targets will be easy pickings. But the very last target will prove a challenge for you. Good luck, Luciano!" The man said as Luciano left the room.

**Chaos Theory** · July 7th, 2015, 02:54 PM

[Forest East of Puerto de Oro, Acerrae Vatriae]

[Pride of the Hunter]

It was finally that time once again, a celebration that only came once every century, a reminder that nearly twenty-two hundred years ago the darkness was beaten back, though at the greatest of costs. Sadly though, time forgets more than it ever remembers and the greed of man is boundless and so much of what made this day truly special has been lost over the two millennia that has passed. The celebration has become corrupted with debauchery and sin. All of this, however is lost in the darkness of the forest that lies just east of the port Capitol.

-Night before the Celebration-

Hues of red, orange and yellow dance amongst the slumbering trees and before the fire pit bathed in both light and shadow a man sat before the flickering flames. The flames cracked and lapped at the wild hare that hung suspended over them while the man rolled a stick from one side of his mouth to the other. Beside him a wolf gnawed at the fur of it's paws while he cleaned the pelt of the fresh kill. The aroma of the meal would surely bring other predators close, but if the flames weren't enough to deter interest, the man was as he worked away with his blade. Every moment that dripped away, was another moment closer to the meal being cooked. It was time to express thanks.

Reaching out, after sheering off a portion of the hide the man pulls a small portion of meat from the hare and wraps it tightly in the fragment of pelt, with a light kiss he tosses it into the dancing flames.

"Mig langar til að þakka þér fyrir örlæti þú hefur gefið mér , nú í þakkarskyni Ég býð aftur til skógar hluta af afla mínum , svo að það getur alltaf sýna hylli á mig og þau sem geta ferðast með mér ."

It was a tradition he was taught as a young boy, you always gave a portion back to the forest for it's bounty regardless the size and the forest would always repay you in kind. Some may call it superstition, he called it a way of life.

"What?" is asked as he pulled his meal from the flames. The wolf beside him only tilted her head to the side, "You ate yours already." is replied as if he understood the creature. "Fine, don't complain to me later though." is retorted while he ripped a portion free and threw it to her. The animal looked to it briefly before returning it's gaze to him. His eyes shifted to the westward horizon and the glow that sat there. He knew something was up, though he couldn't be bothered with what or why. "I don't understand why you think tomorrow is important." is sighed as he bit into the hare. The wolf only looked to him before pulling the shared food toward her. Her glance hung back over toward Puerto de Oro though.

The man huffed like a scolded child, "Fine, we'll go. Only because I need to trade for supplies." is stated firmly as he pulled more of the meat from the bone. He could tell it was going to be one of those nights, the moon was foreboding as it hung low in the sky. "I have a bad feeling..." is muttered mostly to himself.

-Next Day-

With a bundle of wild pelt on his back he walks into the Port City, heading for the town's trade center as he waded through the masses that had gathered there for the Centennial Celebration, a very unhappy look settled across his face though.

**Cid** · July 7th, 2015, 06:13 PM

Song of the Moment
Aria di Mezzo Carattere
Cover by Taylor Davis and Lara de Wit

"Ooooo, Mariaaaaa. Oooooo Mariaaaaaa... Though I caall yooooooou from afaaaar, will this meesaaage reach your heeeeeeart? Oh how I loooooooooong to beeeee wiiiiiith yooooou."

"Ooh my heroo my beloveeed!"

"WHOA! WHOA! HOLD ON BUDDY. You aren't MY Maria" A larged grizzled looking man slurred from behind a cheap looking stein while staring down the smaller man across the table from him. The smaller man looked blank and was wobbling slightly, a much larger stein sitting in front of him, almost completely empty.

"Shaaall we stiill be maade to paaaaaaart"

"Shut up little man, you're disturbing my drinkin!" The large man bellowed again, this time while angrily slamming his fist on the table. Suddenly the entire tavern quietened as everyone stared nervously at the two. The smaller man shifted in his seat slightly, wobbling all the way, now making eye contact with the brute across from him. "Relax friend, we're all here to party. It's a celebration!" The man yelled as he downed the remainder of his brew. "Why do you want to ruin my song anyway, fella?" The big man's face grew red, he gritted his teeth, and stood up quickly. "THIS IS MY TAVERN, BOY! AND THAT WAS MY SONG!" His voice was so loud you could almost feel the building shaking under it's presence. The people around him began backing away slowly. They knew this man, he was as unstoppable as a berserker when he grew angry. The smaller one stared drunkenly at the behemoth in front of him. "I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot, friend... Allow me to introduce myself... The name's Alistair." Alistair stretched his hand forward, for a handshake. The big man stared for a moment before shaking his head and reaching forward. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, boy." He said as he took the man's much smaller hand. Alistair grinned mischievously. "I think we're all lucky you stopped singing." The room went silent again as the big man's face flushed with red once more...

~Ten Minutes Later~

"And stay out!"

Alistair was shoved out the door by the tavern owner. As he turned around, looking back inside right before the door closed he caught another glimpse of the brute that started the fight. On his back in the middle of the tavern's floor with his stein shoved in his mouth, people trying to hold him him down as they worked to dislodge it. Alistair grinned again at his handiwork before turning towards the town's square.

"Though proomises ooooooof perennnnnial loove yet siing here in my heeeeeart..."

**World Order** · July 7th, 2015, 06:56 PM

Gregory began reading...

"Oh Mr.Warrior! How are you! You are so strong and brave!!!!"
He found the pictures interesting. A young girl was praising what seemed like a knight in shining armor although the torso and above weren't seen...only the legs. He turned the page

" Oh Mr Warrior!! Wont you save u-"

Gregory closed and threw the book off in disgust. "What a boring book...what a waste of good money" he said to himself. He gripped his staff and placed it promptly on the ground to help him get up. Greg looked up and gazed at the statues of the warriors located at the center of the townsquare revealing his light brown eyes. Upon realizing his hood was off he covered himself once again, and walked towards the statue to pray.

"Bless the souls of these brave individuals who have fought for us. I thank them for everything they have done for the people of the land. Let them rest in peace and enjoy the offerings of happiness from us...."

Gregory stood there for a couple minutes more then headed off to find something to eat or drink.

**Delirium** · July 7th, 2015, 07:19 PM

The inn was in tatters.
An all out brawl had broken out between the hearty, if heavily inebriated patrons, with a woefully under equipped handful of guards attempting to suppress it. In the midst of it all was to be found a very, very amused, if slightly drunk, Charlie Decker. The festivals had been very generous to him; he was no thief, but pilfering the belongings of drunks and battered guards was no challenge. Deciding that he had frankly robbed enough people for the night, Decker had made the move to deliberately spark a brawl; and what a brawl it was.

Deciding to move onto the next inn, Decker found himself the victim of an unexpected tackle (through the Inn's doors, no less) by another patron, backed by two more equally enraged thugs. No doubt they finally caught onto the general absence of their belongings.
Not wanting to lose the night's spoils, Decker delivered a sharp, unexpected elbow to break the Patron's grip wilst simultaneously dragged himself to his feet before follow it up with a knee and quickly (as best he could, given his inebriated condition) and running off, the patrons in hot persuit.

"What a city", he thought to himself, laughing as he picked up the pace.

**Tyler_D** · July 8th, 2015, 02:13 AM

"Woah, I'm not an assassin."

Jack said to the middle age man in the large throne-like chair. Sitting in his dark tavern, surrounded by unclothed women, the man tapped his fingers on the chair's arm in irritation.

"Assassin, mercenary, I see no real difference. My money is all the same no matter what you call yourself. If it makes you feel better, just think of these individuals as enemy combatants".

Weeks ago, a messenger had brought Jack an offer for a very large sum of money in trade for his services as a professional marksman back in his home country of Datsuo Umi. His instructions were to meet the man who sent the message in Puerto de Oro on the night of the Crystal Requiem to discuss the details. A ship had been chartered and lodging provided for the entire trip, which had taken several weeks. It had been very expensive for the man who was currently being turned down by Jack and he was none too pleased with how things were progressing.

"Mr. Saqr al Sterlington, you're skills are quite famous. Even as far away as Puerto de Oro, there are stories of you accuracy under some of the most unfavorable conditions. I am only asking you to take out one target outside of a battlefield where the conditions are quite favorable. I am willing to pay you a large sum of money for what is a very simple job. I don't understand what the problem could be. You should see the list my other man has, his jobs are not so simple. "

Jack had come to the city because he needed the money, but he had his lines that he wouldn't cross. Outright murder was one of them. He mustered up some degree of tactful politeness in is voice as he replied to the man in the chair.

"I am grateful for you offer in recognition of my skills, but I am not willing to kill anybody in cold blood."

The man picked up a goblet of wine and took a long sip, trying to calm his growing anger.

"I will give you double what I initially offered. It is a very large amount of money."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to have to say n-..."

He hadn't finished his sentence before the man slammed his wine goblet down against the side table, shattering it. He stood up, knocking down one of the women nearby, and pointed a ringed finger at Jack, clearly done with formalities.

"You aren't nearly as sorry as you will be, you ungrateful sand rat! You would do well to understand that people don't tell me "no"! You can ask for more money, you can ask to change the details of the job, but when I say someone is going to die in this city, THEY DIE! You WILL take this job or you will next be on my list."

Jack thumbed the knife on his belt as men from around the room moved steadily towards him. This had definitely went badly. The man was clearly very serious and there were more men here than Jack would be able to handle. With a deep sigh he ran his hand back through his short hair and let it rest on the back of his neck. Looking at the man, he decided just exactly what he was going to do.

"I want half upfront."

Jack would make it out of the room, but he would soon be on that man's list.

**Phobetor** · July 8th, 2015, 12:45 PM

The bouquet gleamed pleasantly in the afternoon sunlight as the boy hurried past with it, failing to detect the only other patron in the well-stocked but small open-air flower shop in his agitation. Ravaayth smiled to herself and continued her search until she finally found what she was looking for; selecting a single blue clematis and striding to the shop desk, she briskly tapped her fingers thrice. The emerging shopkeeper, annoyed at having been distracted from bookkeeping so quickly, grinned when he recognized his customer.

“Ah, lass,” he chuckled. “I’ll never understand you.”

The lass in question simply beamed and removed a few coins from her string. As she turned to leave, replacing the string in a pouch she tightly tied and placed inside her robes, the florist protested. “Oy! Lass! You only owe me 10 gil!”

Exiting the arch, Ravaayth called back, “It’s Crystal Requiem, my friend!”

So it is, she thought as she made her way towards the famed Main Street of Puerto de Oro. The Crystal Requiem, and this sacred observation is now a festival of sin. A vigil, shattered. Ravaayth knew that most people were not properly educated about the centennial holiday, and understood everyone to have their own faith, but she could not condone the debauchery people were wont to partake in or understand how anyone could exhibit the disrespect that had become the norm on this day. Engaged in such thoughts, she followed the sign and turned into Path Faithful leading to the Temple District.

Climbing the steep upwards path, Ravaayth wondered how long Acerrae Vatriae would stand in its current state, with the central government’s outright rejection of the phenomena she had observed in her travels. Darkness or not, we’re responsible for our own ruination, she thought, placing the clematis in her robe pocket and continuing to ponder the fate of the nation as she navigated the complex streets with the familiarity of a native.

Her deliberation was abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable sounds of conflict ahead; looking up, she managed to glimpse the source of the signs through the restless crowd. Upon seeing a brown-haired young man struggling to cease a brawl between one angry and one evidently inebriated man, she began to weave through the spectators just as a horn was blown with almost deafening force.

**Fure** · July 8th, 2015, 03:58 PM

The ceiling.
...
It mocks me.
The racket outside makes it even worse.

A young, petite woman lies in a small bed, unable to sleep. For reasons only she knows, she must always sleep. Her piercing, amber eyes dart around the room restlessly, calculating endlessly of where she'll be when she dreams; might as well do so, sleep doesn't seem to be an option at this moment. An hour or so passes, The woman sits up, fumbling at a small lamp next to her bed as she reaches for her glasses. She unfolds them and puts them on as she sluggishly makes her way off the bed, standing upright and stretching with a small yawn. Her eyes have dark circles under them and her body looks quite frail with a complete lack of energy, quite the opposite of someone who never gets a wink of shut-eye. She shuffles off her night gown and kneels, reaching underneath the bed for a bag that has her belongings.

"Looking good, Sasha. Iv never seen a skeleton so... curvy." A snarky and shrill voice comments as Sasha, struggles to remove her bag from under the bed, the bag appearing to be caught on something underneath.

"Work them bones."The voice mocks, the only thing Sasha wearing being her underwear.

"Then help me you giant buffoon." Sasha stands up, folding her arms as a few glowing portals suddenly appear in the room. Large purple tentacles emerge from the glittering rips in space, lifting the bed effortlessly. Sasha then kneels once again, retrieving her bag. She digs through it and pulls out her robes and shoes and quickly adorns them. Her clothes are old, but ornate. They are the robes of a priest that was passed down to her from her adopted father. A small, blue necktie adds a little bit of a modern formality. Her shoes are small, black loafers, regularly shined and worn.

"What are we doing in this dump again?" The disembodies voice asks rudely.

"What I always do." Sasha replies sternly.

"I will never be able to find her if I dream in only one place."

**Delirium** · July 8th, 2015, 09:04 PM

Tiring of the chase, Decker decided that he'd have one last brawl before he skipped town to sell off the items he had 'acquired'. He slowed his pace to the extent that the now furious thugs could tail him, ignoring a nearby scene between two 'gentleman' and a man attempting to quell the violence. In an instant he twisted his body around to greet his opponents, assuming a slouched, laid back stance.

By now the patrons had caught up to him, and were very clearly winded by the chase. Still, they weren't quite ready to give up; the evidence of which was found in the leading member greeting Charlie with a clumsy right hook, easily evaded with a needlessly dramatic sway.

"No need to rush, I'll draw a crowd. Three drunk, exhausted peasants? I might as well show off," he thought to himself, evading another attempt at a punch.
By now a small crowd had indeed formed; to watch Decker's almost dance like evasions against three angry, slurring thugs flailing in his general direction.

**OrganizationXV** · July 8th, 2015, 09:49 PM

Cirrus and pals scuffled for several seconds before the former finally pushed the others apart. They both looked at each other, then at him, then back.

"Now, if you'll kindly do this someplace else-" Cirrus started before being sucker-punched by Angry One. He stumbled to the left into Drunk One, who then pushed him away into the street. By now a crowd was forming to watch the spectacle.

"Stay out of my business, boy! This has nothing to do with you!"

Cirrus' face burned red at the humiliation of just getting bopped one. The son of a nigh-legendary warrior couldn't handle his own in a fight with stumbling idiots? Sure, he wasn't trying to hurt anybody, but to get knocked on his ass was pathetic. He got up, dusted himself off, and spit in the fighters' general direction. By now, they were busy getting into it without interference, and Cirrus was happy to watch them both get beaten. He stepped away, ready to rid himself of the whole encounter.

"You took your lumps, kid. That's just part of learning," A passing observer commented, clapping Cirrus on the back. Never mind actually losing a fight, but to be looked on as an amateur was more than he could take. Cirrus turned back into the fight and put all of his weight behind a punch that caught Angry One in the jaw. Drunk One didn't react until it was too late, and got kneed in the stomach for his troubles. Angry One cried out in muffled pain as he grabbed his jaw, gave Cirrus a look of pure fear, and bolted away. Drunk One laid back on the ground, holding his tummy.

"I didn't do anything to you..." Drunk one moaned. Cirrus walked away without replying. Suddenly the noise of the crowd was a bit too heavy for his taste, and he lost his festive mood entirely.

**Cid** · July 8th, 2015, 10:14 PM

Song of the Moment
Vamo Alla Flamenco

String Player Gamer

The deafening sound of trumpets blasted across the city of Puerto de Oro, the signal that Crystal Requiem would soon begin. People from all across the world slowly began to make their way to the city's center as Lancer Class Guards flooded from the castle gate. Some dispersed into the city to check up on reports of violent brawls that had broken out in and around the various taverns of the port city while others formed a walkway from the castle gate that lead to the stairs of a large wooden stage that was centered in the city's square.

Minutes after all guards had taken their positions the thunderous trumpets blasted again, this time playing the world famous "Vamo Alla Flamenco" that legend says was written in honor of the Four Warriors of Light for their bravery and sacrifice. At the end of their song, all was silent across the square as the people awaited the arrival of the "heroes". Their wait wasn't long, first from the castle gate was Queen Inga, ruler of the northern glacier continent of Adamas Mundi, she wore an ornate White Mage's garb, bright silk lined in gold. Behind her, King Leandro of the tropical Tierra Prometida dressed in exuberant leather armor as the Fighter. Then King Ebrahim of the desert lands of Datsuto Umi, dressed in plain black robes with a wooden staff as a Black Mage. Trailing behind the three was Acerrae Vatriae's own ruler in the gold plated armor as a Warrior, King Farrell.

The four royals made their way under the crossed spears of the guards and up onto the stage, where they stood side by side, waiting for the thunderous roar of the crowd to die down...

**World Order** · July 8th, 2015, 10:45 PM

Before Gregory could leave the center of Town Square he paused and squinted down the street he was heading towards. Noticing what seemed like a street fighter effortlessly dancing around his opponents he began to head into another path in an attempt to get away from the physical altercation. A crowd moved in on the brawlers drowning out any available sights on the fight.

Turning his head, Greg set his sight on a different route. Little did he come to find that a crowd had gathered there as well, although this one was more miniature. A man was seen on his backside, probably drunken as he was just outside of a tavern.

"What the fuck is going on?" he pondered. He then turned back to face the statues of the Four Warriors of Light. Each statue faced a street directly, they could almost be used as a compass by those intelligent enough since they stood high watching over Puerto De Oro. "Warriors why have you not drawn peace?" he questioned himself before beginning his journey towards the tavern near the small crowd.

IMMEDIATELY after he took his first step he heard the blast of trumpets. "Alright im definetly done for the day..why the hell did I come here? There's so much shit going on..." Gregory went into the shadows to observe the Kings & Queens who appeared minutes later in the square. The newly formed crowd cheery and astonished by the royal presence.

**Mae Borowski** · July 8th, 2015, 10:48 PM

Blackrose watched the entrance of the royal four from behind the crowds, having snaked her way around from the city's alleys. Some of her goons were scattered among the civilians, wearing normal attire instead of their uniform. "Four fools in Kings' clothing," she whispered to herself, "these people will worship anything." She smiled, clapping her hands slowly as the people cheered. She absolutely detested everything about the Crystal Requiem but it amused her anyway, everyone celebrated something they didn't even care about. They forgot how to live according to their own beliefs and even demonstrated the opposite. It didn't matter though, she observed the event, and how grandeous and awful it was.

**Tyler_D** · July 9th, 2015, 03:08 AM

Having made his way to the perch indicated in the details of his contract, Jack was surprised to see that it was a privately rented balcony with a very good view of the stage where the ceremony was beginning. It was also a very effective spot to scope out his target. Jack went about his preparations for the intended target. The mark was a red-haired woman in her mid-thirties named Rose Aggelos. She was a Minister in the king's court who specialized in public relations. As she was helping coordinate the event, she was still inside the castle helping to direct the participants. The Man had heard from a source that she would come out at the end of the event to bow with the rest of the cast and that was the moment Jack was to put a bullet in her head. He had prepared, instead, a fast-acting sedative tipped on the end of a non-lethal cold round. These special bullets dropped the body temperature very low in an instant and were used in the desert for capture of live targets who were prone to major heat stroke. She would appear dead and remain in that state long enough for him to collect the other half of his Gil and leave the city. He wasn't sure if this woman deserved to die or not, but he wasn't going to be the one to kill her. Biding his time and waiting for the target, Jack took advantage of the excellent view of the stage to watch the ceremony unfold. Seeing the respective kings of his father's and mother's homelands together reminded him of his own mixed cultural nature. Half-Vatrian, half-Datsuu (as the locals called it), his childhood had been a combination of two worlds fighting for dominance in his life. Despite his desert garb and tan skin, his mannerisms and accent were that of a Vatrian Citizen, which he honestly was having been born in the continent and living there for many of his formative years. He mulled over it a little longer but refocused his attention when King Farrell held up his hand for silence.

**Post-Crisis Shob** · July 9th, 2015, 10:10 AM

"...A fine haul lads!" A trumpet blast meant royals on parade. Royals on parade meant busy guards. Busy guards. Meant easy plunder. Out of the tavern and into the streets; The Hellfish and crew took their full of merchant's stock and gil on the docks with nary a lawman to be seen. And The Flying Hellfish brimmed to the helm with all manner of ill-gotten gains; storerooms overflowing with sugarcane and tobaccos and silks and furs. "And this be a fine pelt!" The Hellfish has found a new adornment for captain's quarters. Bear-skin--giant bear-skin--freshly cut by the look of it. The beastmaster who brought it for trade was probably still in town. A man's man, surely, and one The Captain would owe a debt of gratitude if ever their paths crossed. Passing out drunk had never been so warm and cozy. It was a magnificent pelt.