#Askier Mergrey

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Accountable Science: Part 9

Grief. It was Tray’s ever-present companion. From the moment he rose from his bed every day, it followed him. It was unwavering in its suffocating attention to his mind and soul.  It squeezed his hart, cracked his mind, and harmed the very meat of his body. He was a ruin of a man, wasting away as he drank and smoked himself into a numb stupor. His muscles were shrinking, the twinkle in his eye was gone, and the confident man had long since left to leave a ruin of a man behind.   He sat now, as he did most days, at the edge of a cliff near his home, drinking and smoking and trying to keep his mind lost in a daze.  He couldn’t focus on the loss of his son. He couldn’t.  It hurt too much!  He put the bottle to his lips and took a long, hard pull of the whiskey before he took a long drag of moko and looked back at the ocean. “Twelve fucking, you look like shite.”  came a gruff, hard voice.  Tray rolled his head and saw Askier Mergrey, standing in all his red-coated, metal-armed wonder.  Those golden eyes were piercing Tray’s and he had too look away. “Fuck-hic-fuckyewant?” Tray slurred, taking another drink.  Askier took a long inhale and shook his head. “Fuckin hells.  This what you are gonna do with your life? Piss it away?” “Don’t tell me what tuh do..” Tray growled. “This won’t bring your son back.”  Askier said calmly.  Tray shrieked in rage and rose to his feet, throwing the bottle at Askier’s head.  The middle-aged garlean side-stepped the bottle with ease and began walking towards the red-haired smuggler. “Ye shut yer whore mouth, ye-“   Askier seized Tray by the collar with one of his magitek hands and slapped him with another. “Tray.” Askier said calmly, seeing blood oozing down Tray’s cheek from the blow.  “Grow up.  This is pathetic.”  Tray said nothing, he just hung his head and sobbed as the walls of numbness fell from Askier’s physical blow. “Just kill me.” Tray said, utterly broken. “I got muh son killed.  The damn Garleans that worked for Frandrin-“   “Oh shut up!” Askier rolled his eyes.  “Shut up and look at me!” Askier paused and then repeated: “Look at me!” Tray did so reluctantly through his tear-filled eyes. “You wanna drink your life away or kill the bastard that killed your son?” Tray blinked. “Huh?” “I know who did it you dumb git. And I can’t find him without your help cause I don’t have allies like you do.” “I-“ Tray’s mind was so drugged, he was having trouble processing all this. “We don’t have time for you to act like an idiot, Estinoch. Your contacts and us have a short window before he gets out of Erozea with the Oriensang codes and then it’s too late!” Tray gurgled a snot bubble and Askier shoved him to the ground as he made a disgusted face.  He knelt there, motionless as tears kept falling from his chin as he hung his head. “Estinoch, I ain’t got all day. Either you in or you out!” Askier yelled. Tray suddenly threw up, all over Askier’s boots.  The Garlean tensed, snarled and turned to leave. “Wait.” Tray gasped, bile dripping from his nose as he rose shakily to his feet.  He looked between the curtain of his unwashed hair at Askier and there was a new light in those eyes.  Eyes of hate. “Ye sure yuh can give me this bastard?” Askier shrugged. “I can give you the name and appearance.” “All I need.” Tray growled as he began to stagger down the road, Askier following behind, still trying to clean the vomit off his boots by dragging his boots through the grass.

[jorrussciences]

Accountable Science: Part 11

Askier stood in the empty doorway to Jorrus’ hotel room.  His golden eyes peered around as he entered, searching for any left behind traps or clues to where the Viera was heading next.  Askier found neither. The Garlean rabbit had left the room remarkably sterile and devoid of anything useful or dangerous.  Clearly the man had been living out of a bag. Askier snarled and picked up a chair before he hurled it against the window.  The glass cracked and the chair splintered in several pieces as it fell to the floor. “Askier.” Tray called, running to the door. He was panting from taking the stairs and sweat was on the red-haired miqo’te’s face.  “One..one of muh little birds got word to me.  Seen someone lookin’ like our man going north.  Rented a chocobo from him.” Askier turned and marched for the door, moving down the hall, expecting the more muscled Tray to fallow him.  Askier’s coat billowed behind him as he walked. “North Limsa, huh?   Figured he’d be heading for a ship, not further inland. He knows we’re after him and that there’s no way off up there…”  The Garlean paused as he opened the door to the lift and stepped in.  Tray muttered something about ‘Should taken the lift’ but Askier wasn’t listening.  Rather he was recalling something.  Something personal. Running north was basically running into a cage.  Ocean everywhere, rough terrain, and few people.  But six years ago, when Askier had been a Garlean agent himself, one of his escape protocols had called for the exact same maneuver should he be cornered in Limsa.  The idea was that anyone on your tail would spend too much time searching the docks for you assuming you were going to escape by sea when the real escape was… “No.” Askier chewed his lip.  “There’s no way the Garlean’s would still be sticking to Adonis’ plan from that long ago…”  How could they? Adonis’ shadow network had been a personal creation. It had no official connection to the Garlean military.  Could someone from Adonis’ network have passed word on?  Had someone just happened to copy his idea?  Or… Askier hadn’t had time to think about it but now that he did, could someone else have come along and taken over Adonis’ old network of shadows and agents?  Certainly, Osric and his allies had seen to the dismantling of all of Adonis’ work this side of the sea, and rumor was Adin Adonis’ family had been crushed by political rivals during their moment of weakness after the patriarch had died at Osric’s hand; but had the cancer somehow survived?  Had one of Adin’s agents managed to survive the purge and regrown the shadow network? Tray’ju had said the Monetarist Frandrin Mandrin had been in the pocket of a Garlean organization after all and that someone called Mr. Blue was pulling the strings.  Was it mere chance that Jorrus, Askier’s former apprentice, just happened to be working for the same shadowy figure that had pulled Mandrin’s strings? Or had Jorrus been chosen?  The Oriensang would certainly earn whoever managed to gift such a  weapon to the Garlean military a great deal of respect, but its development had been highly classified and secretive.  Not many would know about it.  Could it be that this Mr. Blue, having learned of the Oriensang from Adin’s records, appropriated Adin’s former shadows like Jorrus as his own and slowly rebuilt the shadow network over the years?  That could explain why the escape plan was exactly the same for Jorrus as it had been him.   Askier stepped out and began walking quickly. “Where we goin’?” Tray asked.  “I need tuh ask for more info.”   “I think I know where he’s going, Tray.” Askier answered, flicking his tail as they headed for the stables. “How?” “Cause it’s where I would be heading.”  @cfs-melkire for mentioning his char :D

[vanitysruin]

Prompt 16: BOND

(( With apologies to @catnip-smuggler-radio ))

Askier Mergrey was a great many things and if Delial were given the time and the energy to do so, she was sure she could fill books with all manner of words both creative and insightful to describe him. It was to her great surprise, then, to run into him on a rainy afternoon in Vesper Bay with his hair a sopping mess and his face calm and thoughtful. None of those things were typical of Mergrey, Garlean on the run, known terrorist with an uncomfortable love of explosives, and generally insufferable miqo'te all around. Which was not to say she disliked seeing him less than rabid and devoid of his idiot comments; as the seas were meant to be blue, Mergrey was meant to be a crude bastard and anything else was nigh unthinkable.

"Delial, would you mind if I bought you a drink?"

He ran his hands through the wet disaster that was his hair and smiled a distracted smile at her, and though her suspicions nagged fiercely at her thoughts, she could find no better response than, "Why not?"

It was risky business being a regular in so traveled a place but Delial had her vices and Folclind was kindly enough. The Pissed Peiste was hardly the best place to catch anything quality, least of all when it came to wine, but it served well enough. With their soggy coats cast over the backs of their chairs, they sat and drank and spoke together at length. Mergrey lacked his usual fire and bravado. For once, Delial was not his enemy. The jabs they traded were half-hearted and softly spoken, delivered with faltering glances and muted grins and moments of understanding. Theirs was a curious case, to be sure: agents of Garlemald no more, struggling against a world that would just as soon see them hung. Of course Mergrey made it harder to defend himself, what with bombs and poisons and whatever ridiculousness popped in his deranged little mind. He had no subtlety and Delial was certain it would be what killed him.

They drained their glasses and exchanged their promises, and that was when Askier surprised her again.

"Lady Grimsong, might I have a dance?"

It was hardly a spacious place, The Peiste, crammed so full of furniture and a scant show of shamelessly gawking patrons. He was absurdly tall for a miqo'te in the way that Delial was absurdly short for a highlander, and even in her favored heels she stood hardly an ilm or two above his eye. For once, it was Mergrey who was the embodiment of grace. He stepped in measured rhythm and took the lead with all the poise of a man practiced at countless stuffy Imperial galas, and hummed a tune that only partially drowned out the occasional bump and scrape of furniture knocked about by his decidedly less practiced partner.

"This," she muttered, "Is ridiculous."

Askier smiled. "Nonsense," he said, just before drawing her up into a spin. It was a clumsy affair, readily destroying what little show of dignity Delial had left. By the end of it she found herself swept off her feet, held aloft in Askier's metal arm while Folclind and her patrons clapped. No one remarked on how Delial's cheeks flushed in the end, but Askier's grin was was smug and far too knowing. He was insufferable. She kissed him anyway.

He was leaving, banished from the realm that he might find some peace, but something in her that knew he would be back. They were doomed, it seemed, to cross one another time and time again, two hapless bodies trapped in orbit inscrutable to them both: neither letting the other drift so far as to lose the other nor to spin so near as to burn them both. She had him promise anyway, despite knowing Askier Mergrey was nothing if not a fool, a liar, and a madman at the best of times. Yet in some way she could never admit, it still pleased her to hear him say it.

[theduplicitousdame]

RP Hooks: Naharé Mergrey (Revised)

(It’s been quite a while and Naharé has gone through some changes. Seeing as I’m getting back into the swing of RP, I figured it would be a good idea to revise her RP Hooks. Poor girl has gotten a little dusty from sitting on the shelf after her last campaign.) *Naharé Mergrey (née X’naharé Rahz) was born and raised in Limsa Lominsa. She’s proud of being a city lass. *Perhaps you knew her from childhood? Or, mayhaps, you’ve worked with her before? *Speaking of work, she specializes in Magitek, Engineering, EOD, and guns. She has also crafted multiple versions of Mammets, even deploying them out into the field of battle. *She’s currently partnered with Maelstrom Command as a Freelancer working alongside Research and Development.

*She was deployed to Doma for a while with Maelstrom Command. You could have spotted her there. *Another note about work, Naharé operates as a mercenary and bounty hunter on the side. If the contract interests her, and the pay is good, she’ll likely accept it. Her morals tend to be -very- gray in the type of contracts. And, yes, she does have a body count. *Moving onto some more shady things, she has a criminal record out of Limsa. It consists of: Public Intoxication, Theft, Racketeering, Assault, and Aggravated Assault. She is currently not wanted. *If you want it, and can’t get it, she can probably smuggle it for you.

*Got a grudge against Garleans and Magitek? Her left arm was replaced with a Magitek prosthetic and she openly carries a Pre-Imperial Garlean Revolver. *In addition to her Garlean ties, her ex-husband is a defected Garlean engineer and airship pilot by the name of Askier kir Mergrey (aka Jin’a kir Epinoch). *If she is at home in Limsa you can typically find her frequenting the bars or fighting tournaments. Sometimes she’ll sit down by the dock and go fishing. *If you are from the Lynx tribe you can use that you knew, or heard of, Naharé’s parents, X’rahz Tia and X’adeya Mhasa. They were exiled after they were caught having relations and that it was revealed they had chosen each other as mates. *After the exile, they packed up and moved to Limsa where Rahz works as a Blacksmith and Adeya as a weaver/jewelcrafter. *Naharé has a twin sister, X’tohba Rahz, and a half-brother, X’khajirr Tia. Both of them live in Gridania at the moment. (That’ll do it! If you would like to RP you can contact me here or via Discord at NerdyLuu#4092. My time zone is EST.)

[cfs-melkire]

Devil’s Advocate

"Can't slam him with charges, Peak, or else none of 'em will turn once they know there's only gaol or the noose waitin'."

"This is the second time in as many suns that you've made this argument, Sergeant. Get out."

"All due respect sir, no sir, can't follow that order, sir."

First Flame Lieutenant Flaming Peak set down his quill in its ink well, pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and finger, and heaved a sigh. The effect was almost comical, on a Hellsguard, but I kept my composure. I needed to win him over, not piss him off.

Then again, the routine disobedience that I'd just put on display might have already accomplished the latter.

He slid his papers off to the side, and then folded his hands together over his desk. Peak was large and tall enough sitting down that he was near to a height with me when I was standing at attention. Sometimes, the disparity wasn't fair. This time, I was hoping to leverage it to my advantage. He was big, strong, in charge; I was small, weak, and adorable. Like a pet.

I might have had too high an opinion of myself. The sipahi turban I wore in those suns, with its fly mask, certainly would not have permitted him a glimpse of my big, round, pleading eyes. That thought drew a smirk out of me as it occurred to me. Bloody hells, he probably found me more irritating as a result.

"You wish a… pardon for this man."

"Aye, sir."

"Contingent upon a probationary period."

"Aye, sir."

"He would, in effect, be on parole."

"Aye, sir."

Peak's office felt claustrophobic even under the best of circumstances. The Immortal Flames were not such a well-funded institution as to be able to provide for every decorated officer's needs; the General had sway and no small measure of pull, but funds had always proven a struggle. Pity Peak, for he deserved better.

Pity me, because every time he went down this road of rote recitation, it meant that there was a fight looming at the end for me.

He pulled open a drawer on his desk and pulled out a manila folder. He shut the drawer, set the folder down, and opened it. He adjusted his reading spectacles and cleared his throat.

"Askier nan Mergey. Male Miqo'te of questionable heritage. Age: unknown. Country and nation of origin: unknown. Earned Garlean citizenship through the usual method, military enlistment with the Empire. Engineer, speciality: demolitions. Notable for recent insurgency in Thanalan and Ul'dah proper. There's a long list of damages. More than a few injuries attributed to him, as well, a number of them Flames. 

"Said to have been reporting to an 'Adin rem Adonis,' the officer in charge of their unit. Per your report and that of the private, this Mergrey character was supposedly blackmailed and coerced by his superiors into devising a unique explosive device with enough yield that it might've leveled a good third of the city… a dubious claim, but considering that the Calamity happened and that we are all well-acquainted with Ifrit's capacity for destruction, I'll allow it… I note here, 'blackmailed and coerced by means of threats of bodily harm and grievous injury, up to and including death, of his sister.' Well, you'll certainly not see behavior of that sort under my command."

I grew tense anyroad. Peak was familiar with my own family, having visited them with Commander Swift not a turn or two ago. I wasn't certain as to the precise timing of their visit, as my mother hadn't cited any dates or annual events of note in her letter that had mentioned them.

Peak removed his spectacles and set them down atop Mergrey's file. He steepled his fingers and peered across the desk at me.

"You want us to grant this man a reprieve. A man easily maneuvered and manipulated. A man who, by your own reporting, tried to desert. He is, by the reading, a bad soldier. The character testimony is something else entirely. Most charming thing I've experienced since we first debriefed you." I chose to take that compliment in silence, and fought down the urge to grin. Peak went on. "On the basis that establishing a precedent of leniency for Imperial turncoats will make their desertion all the more enticing and might tempt some few among their ranks to come over to us. Do I have that right?"

A beat. "Aye, sir."

He stared at me for the span of a minute. Then he snorted and swept the manila folder shut.

"I'll discuss the possibility with the commander. Dismissed, Sergeant."

I left the man's office in a hurry, not quite believing my luck.

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Accountable Science

“And your cut.” Askier reached across the table and snatched up the gil purse in his metal hand like an eagle seizing a rodent.  He examined the size of the purse and side-eyed his employer as he turned and headed for the door. “Next week then.” The miqo’te rumbled in his gravelly voice.  A moment later the former Imperial was out the door and gazing at the desert stretching before him.  The cold, night air felt wonderful on his face after hours inside the sweltering, make-shift mechanic shop his new company had erected for field testing a new series of firearms.  He took a long inhale and flicked his metal tail, reflecting on the truth of his life: no matter where he went or who he worked for, it seemed all anyone wanted him for was his skills in forging weapons of death. Askier pulled out a flask from the tattered, red coat he always seemed to wear and took a long swig as he began the long, lonely walk back to town and his bed.  Out here, in the open landscape, the Garlean felt at ease.  He’d come to loath cities and the people in them. Always a shadow with a dagger waiting to find his back inside the cradles of civilization.  Out here he’d either see the person coming, or have a sniper’s round in his brain before he knew what has happening. The grizzled male took another hard drink and thought.  Mostly he reflected on the women he’d been close to over his life and his remarkable ability to sabotage his relationships with them.  It was almost artistic really and he chuckled as he recalled Delial’s words about him and her doomed to be alone.   “You always are insufferably accurate.” The middle-aged male chuckled darkly at the memory, crunching some gravel under his booted heel.  His path now moved into a short, narrow crevasse that split a rising crest in two.  Not far to go now.   Askier maneuvered the space with ease and had just come to the other side when he drew up and blinked.  Maybe a mile away at most shown the distant lights of a small town where his bed awaited him.  However, between himself and the hamlet was standing a figure dressed in a knee length brown duster and wearing a large, wide-brimmed hat.  Beneath the cover, a pair of dull, yellow eyes gleamed at him as the desert land reflected the bright rays of the full moon.  The figure shifted his head and Askier could see the left half of the figure’s jaw was held together with metal plates and screws that gave their visage a sinister complexion.  The stranger’s pixie nose wiggled as it sniffed.  A moment later Askier recognized the face, though it had been more whole and less damaged last he’d seen it.

“Jorrus oen Ursus.” Askier said flatly, pausing to take a drink from a third flask.  The man opposite Askier nodded. “Askier quo Mergrey.” Jorrus replied, his voice pleasant but reserved.   “It’s been awhile.” Askier’s eyes moved down Jorrus’ body to see the firearm resting lightly in his hands in front of his waist.  It looked to be some sort of over-and-under barrel shotgun with an axe-head mounted like a bayonet beneath its barrel.  The weapon’s stock designed and modified handle made it appear as if it could be used as an axe as well as a firearm with ease and Askier knew then this wasn’t a chance meeting. “Looking for me?” Askier inquired as he switched to the Garlean tongue.   “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”  Jorrus replied quickly, his voice even more silky in his native tongue.  “You look like hell.” Askier grunted at that and shrugged. “Fuck you want Jorrus?  You want to kill me, just say so and don’t waste my damn time.” The miqo’te slipped his right hand beneath his coat and wrapped it around the grip of his revolver-sized gunblade. Jorrus blinked as a scoff escaped his lips. “Few years among these people and you start acting like a proper barbarian apparently.”  Jorrus ran his tongue over his teeth as he met Askier’s gaze. “The Oreinsang codes.”  Jorrus spoke after a moment of silence.  “I want them.” Askier snorted and made a dismissive gagging noise. “The codes?  You think I have the codes?  Hello, Jorrus, the project was a fucking failure case you forgot.  And furthermore, the fuck would I, after all this time, even have those activation codes? I-“ “It’s finished, Askier.”  Jorrus interjected, his voice flat and calm as hints of his rot-green hair danced on the back of his head in a sudden breeze.  “We finished it.” Askier paused and gave his former apprentice a genuine look of surprise. “Impossible.” Askier stammered.  “We determined it couldn’t be done.  That it-“ “Our calculations were off.” Jorrus explained. “Once I realized the error in our formulas, it fell into place.  The initial tests and hardware changes worked.  Only problem is…your algorithms and codes to operate the actual interfaces are…melded into the system.  We can’t change it without wiping the processors and you never shared how you’d programmed it.” Askier shook his head and tried to recover. To realize the most complex system he had ever designed, on nothing more than a theory, was actually usable… Usable. That gave him pause.  Askier had been getting cold feet on the project even before his desertion. But now that he was basically an Eorzean and knowing he would be on the receiving end of his creation… “Jorrus, you really are a wonder.” Askier shook his head.  “A wonder in stupidity.  You honestly think I had time to grab those codes when I deserted? Grow up.  They were fried when I burned my house down. And good thing too.  The Oreinsang?  It’s best left in the land of dreams where I drew it from.” Jorrus took a hard look at his former teacher and shifted his jaw, grinding his teeth.  The sound of metal on bone within his mouth did not go missed by Askier’s metal ears. “Well.” Jorrus flicked the safety of his weapon off with his thumb.  In reply Askier pulled his gunblade free with one hand and a grenade with his other. Jorrus shouldered his shotgun as he leveled it at Askier’s chest and ran a black tongue over his lips.  “Even if it’s just the satisfaction of having killed you, least I’m not leaving empty handed.” “I taught you better than this.” Askier snorted. Jorrus nodded.   “You did, which is why your little family is going to be having a visit from associates of mine.  Should be there right now.” Askier narrowed his eyes. “You son of a-“ “The codes, Askier.” Jorrus said, his voice almost sweet.  “Codes for their lives…and your own.” “The Empire gotten so weak you need to threaten old men and children?” Askier spat. Jorrus grunted. “The Empire is bleeding Askier.  In part thanks to you and your ilk.  But with Oriensang? All that changes course.  I’d burn every orphanage on this festering continent to the ground to get those codes and shore up the Empire’s might. And if I’m willing to do that…you think I care about you or your little family?  Glory to the Empire, forever may it endure.” Askier took a long, heavy breath.  His mind raced.  Jorrus couldn’t have the codes.  Not now, not ever.  Askier cursed himself for not destroying the data stick he’d written them on but his pride had damned him. He was too proud of all the coding and its complexity.  He’d hidden it away to look at from time to time. And now that was jeopardizing everything.  He never figured the Oriensang would work on a physical level.  But now, because of Jorrus, it was primed. Hope you still a good shot as ever Naha if company comes round for the tykes. Askier pulled the trigger and his firearm erupted as he gave Jorrus his answer.  Jorrus replied in kind and the entire desert flashed as teacher and apprentice debated the concepts of accountable science with extreme violence.

[jorrussciences]

Accountable Science: Part 10

“Smug? Me? Never.” Jorrus laughed, giving Nick a huge grin as the Eorean handed the Garlean Viera the codes.  Tenderly, almost reverently, Jorrus eyed the small, silver driver full of lines of code.  This was it, the final piece of the Oriensang.  Once this reached the shores of the Empire and was installed into the weapon, Eorzea’s fall was assured.  The Oriensang was unstoppable; just like Jorrus felt.  The viera licked his lips and laughed as he walked to the large window of his room overlooking Limsia’s harbor.  He gazed down at the gathered ships moored at the docks.  There, the vessel that would carry him across the sea rested. He’d ride the ship to Doma, and from there he’d cross the lines of travel back to the Empire and present the item to Mr. Blue.  Jorrus had spent years assuring the shadow master that everything would be worth the large, financial investment he’d placed into Jorrus and his research. “You did well, Nick.” Jorrus said, taking a large inhale. He was shirtless and the muscles of his torso rippled beneath his tanned flesh as he dropped his hand to the belt of his trousers and the holstered pistol.  In a snap, the Galrean spun and drew.  Nick died before he could react, Jorrus’ firearm splattering the Erozean’s brain across the wall. “But I can’t afford loose ends.  Not now, not-” an explosion ripped the harbor apart and Jorrus turned and stared.  The galleon meant to depart on the next tide with him aboard was a smoldering ruin.  The viera’s eyes went wide in surprise as black smoke and flames rose into the sky as the ruined vessel began to sink.  “What the fuck...did her powder- no...”  Jorrus narrowed his eyes as he saw a familiar figure standing at the docks in a  freakishly red coat. “Askier.”  Jorrus muttered his former teacher’s name like a curse as he immediately turned.  He pulled his grey coat over his bare chest and slipped his backpack of weapons and supplies onto his back as he stepped over Nick’s dead body and out the door. He made for the stairs as he pocketed the Oriensang codes. Nick had said Askier was dead!  But now... Jorrus paused and took a long, deep breath.  He hadn’t had a further back up plan.  The ship had been his plan.  He didn’t have anything further. He stepped into the street and began to slip in among the people as he hastily wrapped a grey turban around his head to hide his long ears. There was nothing for it.  He was going to be short on time, especially if Askier was able to track him down to the exact ship he was going to be one and remove that ship publicly. He moved rapidly as he pulled out a pear and spoke into it without putting it into his ear, knowing the people ont he other end would hear. “This is Operative Earring.  Request activation of emergency extract protocol CQ-213.”  He put the pearl pack into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the data drive. “You should have stayed dead, Mergrey.” Jorrus grumbled.  “Now I hope you live long enough to see your own creation consume your new nation.”

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Blast From the Past

((Felt like dusting off Askier and doing a post for fun.  Bear with me, been awhile since used him and his ‘voice’ is still SUPER rusty.)

Vikor Gerhim was expecting to have a simple day.  He had awoken early, gone for a morning run, showered, eaten, and set about his workshop with the purpose of finishing his newest magitek murder machine. He had even put a good couple of hours into his efforts and had worked up a heavy sweat due to the humid, festering heat of the Limsian, jungle air.  But his entire, planned routine was shattered when the door to his wooden barn exploded into  splinters. The Garlean hyur fell off his ladder and crashed down onto a workbench. Tools and bolts rolled onto the floor with him as he hit the dirt floor next.  Seizing a hammer, he tried to get to his feet when a steel toed-boot connected with his ribs and he gasped in pain as the very audible sound of bone cracking reached his ears.  The Garlean wheezed as the intruder used their foot to roll him onto his back and then pressed their heel down on Vikor’s throat, leaving only a tiny gap for air to reach his lungs. “Hello, Vikor.” came an amused growl as the intruder looked down at him and cocked his head to one side.  Vikor blinked as Askier’s face split into a smile; like a cat toying with a mouse.  “Been, what, two years now?  My how time flies, doesn’t it?”  Victor glared up at the Garlean miqo’te in surprise and alarm.  Askier Mergrey looked like a walking ruin.  Both of the miqo’te’s ears had been replaced with magitek triangles that moved and twitched in unnatural ways,  The red coat he wore was in ratted tatters and hung open, revealing a torso covered in hundreds of scars.  The sleeves of the coat were ripped away and both of Askier’s arms were now magtiek limbs with hooked fingers.  Behind the male twirled a long, metal tail made of hissing blades.  His black trousers were covered in dust and his boots were in a terrible need of a polish.  But it was the gleam in Askier’s eyes that unsettled Vikor the most. “I thought you died!” Viktor wheezed, both hands wrapped around Askier’s boot.  The miqo’te chuckled. 

“People have thought that before.  And they’ve been wrong.”  Askier clicked his tongue and then began speaking in his native tongue; the Garlean language flowing thick and aggressive from his lips. <”So,”> Askier ran his tongue over his lips and Victor saw that several of his teeth had been replaced with metal fangs.  <”This where you been. Not nice leaving an old army buddy to suffer and die. What would Adin think of you?”> <”Still better than you, deserter.”>  Vikor spat back.  Askier laughed. <”Very likely. Very likely indeed. I-”> <”What do you want?” Vikor interrupted and Askier raised and eyebrow.  <”What do I want?  You know, it’s funny how that answer has changed over the years.  First it was to gain power.  Then survive. Then revenge.  Then live a life with my family but...”> he gave a sinister snicker and the very unnatural sound made Vikor’s stomach turn.  Askier’s lips pulled back and metal, pointed teeth gleamed in the light.  <“But, but the Universe said ‘Fuck you Askier.  You get only suffering and misery.’  And for over forty years, that’s what I’ve bee getting. Only suffering.  But now...I’m thinking about fucking the Universe back.  See, I realized something.  My bitch of a mother and freak of a brother were right.  People like Adin, they were fools.  Grasping at straws and trying to control this hell.  All the universe has done is make me miserable save one exception.  So I’mma do what I should have always done and listened to the little Estinoch voice that’s been rambling in my skull since the day I was born, the-”> Vickor had managed to seize a screwdriver from the floor and used that moment to drive it into Askier’s thigh, the end striking the femur.  Askier howled and collapsed against the desk.  Vikor sprang to his feet and swung a fist at Askier’s jaw.  The blow landed and the Garlean miqo’te flew backwards onto the ground.  The hyur turned and went for a toolbox, pulling a firearm from the tin as he turned.  Askier scrambled behind a large, metal toolbox and grunted. <”Vikor, you ruined my monologue, you little shit!”> Askier reached into his coat with both hands and pulled out a fragmentation grenade in each.  <”I just came for the cerelium I know you have in here.”> <”Go to hell, Mergrey!> Vikor shouted back, watching the tool box for any sign of the miqo’te.  Behind his cover, Askier pulled the pins to his grenades and lobbed them over the toolbox before he quickly hobbled for one of the barn’s square windows.  Vikor saw the grenades and swore as he did the same.  Both made their exits and were a dozen feet from the building when it exploded, the pressure inside the building literally blowing the roof into the air. Askier went tumbling into the jungle, mud and insects coating his attire as he rolled.  A large tree stopped his somersault and he ended on his head, feet and knees in a mess besides his skull.  He gazed with his golden eyes at the smoking ruin of Vikor’s workshop and sniffed. The sweet, sweet aroma of destruction filled his nose and it made the miqo’te smile as he rolled over and got to his feet.  He watched the blaze with a smile. “Well.” Askier said.  “That was a bust.” he turned and began to limp through the muck and the mire towards the road.  It took almost two hours of trudging and marching through the mosquito infested hell of the jungle to reach a trodden, dirt path.  Of course his mount was gone.  He’d gotten a bit turned around and Vikor was either dead or plotting revenge but Askier didn’t care.  He’d stop caring about most things in life.  All that mattered now was doing whatever it required for his mind to shake the numb void of misery it had become trapped in and feel alive again.  And lately, outside of wanton violence, very little woke his soul.  He began to walk along the road but it wasn't long before a wagon rolled up.  Askier, without missing a beat, waved the driver down and flashed him a innocent grin. “Well hello there!  Would you give me a rid into town?  Went and lost my way.”  Behind his back, Askier rubbed his clawed fingers together.  “Would be ever so kind.” Tagging old rp peeps XD: @theduplicitousdame @vanitysruin @afreesworn @cfs-melkire @whispersofawindwitch

[jorrussciences]

Accountable Science: Part 2

Askier’s grenades ripped apart the desert with a terrible ease.  Debris and thunderous waves of sounds rolled in all directions as the explosives fell like rain from Askier’s red coat.  Among this hell of fire and fallings stone, Jorrus scurried, weaving a frantic dance for survival as he threw himself from boulder to boulder in an effort to shield himself from the assault.  His former mentor seemed to have lost none of his penchant for explosives. Jorrus rolled behind a large mound of rock and pressed his back to it.  He opened the breach of his shotgun and pulled out the spent shells before tossing two more napalm slugs into the weapon and snapping it closed.  The viera’s hat was long gone and his large ears twitched erratically, seeking any sign of his former teacher. He didn’t wait long. “You still alive Jorrus?” Askier yelled. “More so than you, old man.” Jorrus retorted, chuckling softly to himself as he took a deep breath. “I dunno about that, Jorrus…” the miqo’te shouted back and Jorrus grunted as he heard Askier pull the arming pin from a grenade.  Jorrus bolted and hurled himself into a nearby ditch just as his former cover exploded into a million, flying projectiles.  The Viera heard his ears ringing and felt blood oozing down his nose from the constant shock waves wrecking his organs.  He couldn’t keep this up.   Jorrus lay perfectly still.  He heard Askier call out again but this time the Garlean viera said nothing in reply.  Again Askier called out.  Again Jorrus stayed silent.  Jorrus must have waited for ten minutes before he heard dirt moving.  He heard a step.  Then another.  And then he rose, shouldering his firearm and leveling the muzzle at where he had heard the miqo’te’s footfalls.  Jorrus fired and a fiery explosion sent Askier rolling backwards as the round smashed his bullet-proof coat.  The Garlean rolled, fire from the napalm trying to eat at his red garmet, which held against the flames thanks to its synthetic material.   Jorrus rose up and fired again but the round went high and impacted the earth harmlessly.  Askier, by now, had managed to get behind a  rock. Jorrus paused and checked a timepiece on his wrist and the time soured his expression. This had taken longer than expected.  He glanced back at the town and, sure as clockwork, he saw four figures on chocobos riding out towards their fight.  Jorrus scoffed and gave a low, chuckling sigh. “What I get for quality.” He commented before turning back to Askier and shouting: “Seems some of your fellow beasts are coming to spoil the party, Askier.  Would appear the Empire’s wroth is averted from your skull just yet.” Askier’s triangle ears perked and he lept atop the rock he was behind, tossing his burning coat aside.  He watched as a disk of gold the size of Jorrus appeared in the air at his side as the Viera tapped something on his wrist.  The miqo’te blinked in surprised. “Since when do you know magic?”  Askier inquired.  The viera turned back to him and wiggled his nose in a gesture of sly cunning. “Not magic, Askier.  Science.”  The viera fell into the disk and a moment later, both disk and Viera disappeared. Askier felt his tail twitch as he clenched his metal fists into balls of righteous anger.  The Garlean had assumed that, after four years since his last interactions with the Empire directly, the Empire was done with him.  That assumption, however, proved false indeed. Once more he was on someone’s wishlist inside the Empire, or at least his creation was.  And, as much as he wished it was Jorrus and Jorrus alone, the miqo’te knew deep inside his guts that his former pupil was like himself: a man who did, not one who planned. Someone had come along and continued to fund the Oriensang research, someone with a lot of coin or sway inside the military to get Jorrus the supplies he needed. The bomb cat lept off the rock and eyed the four sudden arrivals that had sent Jorrus scurrying away.   Mercenaries by the look of them and the four eyed the miqo’te their mounts.  It took a moment for Askier to realize he knew two of them. “Nick.” Askier blinked in surprise at seeing the hyur closest to him lift his helmet from his face and give him a surprised smile. “Well, blow me away.” Nick laughed, “I thought there was a full battle out here when we came to investigate.  Looks like you were just testing bombs, eh?” “Nick, it was…Nick I need a favor.” Askier said, suddenly urgent.  The hyur blinked, surprised.   “Huh?  Like in what-“ Askier didn’t reply as he walked over to Nick’s mount and hopped up behind the hyur, who blinked in surprise. “Nick, a thousand gil if you can get me to the nearest airship dock.  I need to get home yesterday.” Nick blinked and then nodded. “You always were a weird one, Garlean.” Nick chuckled.  “Alright then, boys, seems we just got an easy payday. Come on.”   With that, the four bird tore off across the sands as Askier chewed his lip.   Someone wanted his codes.  Someone wanted Jorrus to get them.  Askier had to make sure those codes vanished in a  ball of fire like he should have done all those years ago.

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Mergrey Munitions Inc

The explosion ripped apart the stall, sending debris and organs splattering across the Silver Bazaar.  Screams and cries of shock filled the air.  The gathered people scurried away from the cloud of debris. Frandrin Mandrin picked himself up, pulling his sword from his scabbard as he tried to balance himself.  The blast had ruptured his left eardrum and he found it almost impossible to steady his feet.  More screams as another blast erupted nearby.  The lalafel turned as the dust cloud rolled towards him and then enveloped him in it’s embrace.  Inside the thick cloud, the smell of blood and black powder stunk to the heavens.  “Did you miss me, Mandrin?” cackled a low voice.  Like a shadow, a form emerged.  Two metal arms with fingers ending in claws hung from it’s sides, a grenade cradled in each palm.  Over a chest of scar tissue hung a ruined, red coat with the sleeves ripped away.  Behind the miqo’te danced a five foot long tail made of razor blades.  The metal tail snaked through the air, sparks raining down as the owner ground the steel together.  Two magitek ears flicked as a demented smiled creased the freckled face of Askier Mergrey.

“I told you for two years, you’d regret not killing me in that cell.”  the mixed-blood’s pointed fangs shone dull yellow as he sneered wickedly.  “If the Empire hadn’t needed your bombs, i would have rid the world of you ages ago.” Frandrin replied with a commanding tone. “I’d like to see you try.” the Garlean taunted in reply.  His thumbs pulling the pins from the grenades simultaneously.  Quick as serpents, the metal arms heaved the explosives at the lalafel.  Frandrin stepped back.  Both grenades exploded in the air before him and his ears rang from the rancor.  “Master Frandrin.” came a calm, collected voice.  Frandrin’s eyes opened abd he saw the aether shield hanging in the air between himself and Askier.  From his side emerged a tall elezen dressed, as always, in impeccably pressed black. “Caruthers.”  Frandrin said breathlessly, sighing in relief.  “Cover me.”  the lalafel ordered as he turned to retreat expediently. “Mmmm.” Askier purred as he cocked his head to the left and watch Frandrin run.  “Run while you can, Mandrin.  I’m coming for you.”  “I wouldn’t count on that.” Caruthers replied, waving his hand.  A breeze dispelled the cloud of smoke.  Most of the Bazaar was free of living people now. And those that remained were pulling blades or guns. “So it -was- a trap.” Askier straightened as a croaking giggle rumbled from his lips.  He ran his metal hands over his dirt covered face. “One you fell for.”  Caruthers replied calmly, adjusting his leather gloves.  “It’s time that someone put you down, mongrel.” “Better things than you have tried and failed.”  the bomb maker commented with a snarky tone.  “But, I do believe we’ve made our point.”  He reached his hand up to the orange boom earring that hung from the metal ear. “We?” inquired Caruthers warily. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”  Askier replied with a wide-eyed stare and toothy grin.  “See you soon!”  He pulled the earring. There was a flash of light and then an explosion.  Caruthers watched the smoke swirl around his raised aether shield. In the settling dust, Askier was gone.  Only the destruction marked his passing.  The elezen breathed a sigh and grimaced.  Tray had been bad enough.  But now the Garlean was working with the red-head against his master?  How had things gone so badly for his master in such a short time?  The lalafel had the blades of the Sweepers at his throat, and his political foes were circling him like sharks.  Already, Frandrin’s authority was being challenged and the lalafel’s resources were so strained and crippled that he was finding it almost impossible to stave them off. Already the word was that Frandrin was to be brought in to account for reports of multiple financial violations and misconduct involving his political office.  He’d  been instructed by fellow members of the Council to not leave Thanalan and he had spies watching his every move.  The lalafel was running out of time.  He was on the defensive for the first time in decades.  The only way out now was the ‘Beholder Initiative’ and their new extraction team, but they were still mustering and setting up the extraction.  The Sweepers had removed the established team a moon early.  Caruthers just had to ensure his master continued survival until the Garleans were ready. Something the butler believed himself more than capable of doing. He adjusted his tie and turned, waving at his minions to follow after him.

[jorrussciences]

Accountable Science: Part 8

Askier threw open the door to a vault he’d not thought he’d see again.  Dust from the Thanalan desert fell as the heavy door screeched open.  Immediately a series of dirty, electric bulbs flared into life and bathed the room in a faint, blue light.  The darkness retreated to reveal a small, metal room filled with magitek parts and half-built items.  The room was icy cold despite the desert heat outside of the rock wall and the Garlean strode inside, almost panicked.  His boots clanged on the metal floor as he ground his steel-toes as he moved.  The garlean came to a small safe and knelt, immediate twisting in a combination into the lock. “How many of these places did you build in Eozea, Askier?”  Nick commented as he and his two fellow mercenaries followed Askier. “Not enough.” Askier muttered, licking his lips.  He was too distracted to pay his hired hands any mind and nodded at the workbench. “Should be some gil in a shelf, that’s yours for doing this for me.” Nick went to the drawer as mentioned and slipped it open.  He gave a small whistle as he peeked in side and saw how much ‘some’ meant to Askier.  The hyur gave his fellows a please smile and then watched as Askier opened the safe and pulled out a small, metal object maybe three inches long and two wide.  He blinked. “What’s that?” Nick asked.  “We came all this way for that?”  Askier nodded, grunting as he rose to his feet. “Aye.  As for what it is-it’s” Askier lurched back as Nick suddenly surged forward and slammed his fist into Askier’s face with one hand while snatching the hard drive from Askier’s hand.  The miqo’te went tumbling backwards as the hyur turned and made for the door as his subordinates drew their weapons.  “Sorrry, Askier.”  the hyur said as he stepped to the door of the vault.  “But this is where it ends.  Afraid the Garlean rabbit hired us to play you and have you lead us to this.  Don’t worry, you’re worth stabbing in the back.  Kill him.” Askier rolled over and pulled out his pistol, shooting one of the mercs in the head.  The other took covered behind a desk.  Nick was gone and Askier could hear his chocobo riding off into the desert.  The miqo’te yelled in rage and pulled out a grenade. *** Ten minutes later, Nick crested a dune and looked back.  Black smoke was pouring out of the vault and several explosions had rocked the air briefly before.  Whatever had happened, Askier was nowhere to be seen and Nick smirked. “Jorrus.” Nick said, pressing a pearl to his ear.  “I have the drive.  You have my money?” “I do.” Jorrus said, elated. “See you soon then.” Nick grinned, pleased that his cut was now much larger.

[jorrussciences]

Jorrus oen Ursus Rundown

(So, after some jokes with friends and mild mulling on plots, I crafted up a new character/antagonist: the villainous Garlean bunny-boy scientist Jorrus oen Ursus!  Now I know Viera male’s are controversial atm because they might not be in the Realm at all but worst case I’ll stick some bunny ears on a miqo’te and call it a day.  For now though, using GE3 to get images of the Garlean bunny wonder.  Wanna rp with him, poke me. XD)

Gender: Male

Race: Viera

Height: Tall

Skin: Sun-kissed

Eyes: Yellow gold

Hair: A twisted, rotted green

The facts —

Nameday:  11th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon

Occupation: Garlean Military R&D

Sexual orientation: Straight

Romantic orientation: Not looking

Alignment:  Lawful Neutral

Criminal history: According to Imperial law, he has none.  Some Eorzeans might argue he’s committed war crimes however.

Relationship Status: Single

Sweet on: The Empire

favorites —

Favorite food: Salad

Favorite drink: Coffee

Favorite scent: The smell of napalm in the morning

ten facts about your muse —

Jorrus is Viera in physical features alone.  Born inside the Empire to an enslaved mother, the young baby was forcibly adopted by Captain Ursus and his wife because they desired an ‘exotic’ child.

Because he is unfamiliar to the forced nature of his adoption, Jorrus proudly considers himself a member of the Ursus family and, thanks to the indoctrination Jorrus grew up exposed to, is fiercely proud to be part of the Empire.

His father had him enlist in the service and Jorrus showed a knack for the sciences.

He ended up apprenticing under the weapons developer  Askier Mergrey, and the pair quickly took a liking to one another.  Together they were responsible for several advances in Garlean weaponry, especially in regards to high-grade explosive technology.

Following the Calamity, Jorrus’ work took an even harder turn to ‘field-testing’ and often his unit was tasked with testing new offensive options in actual combat zones.

Jorrus, while clearly not a pure Imperial, holds a degree of disdain for anyone that opposes the ideals and tenants the Empire espouses and is bewildered by anyone wishing to live under a different form of government.

 Jorrus is heavily addicted to caffeine and suffers tense withdrawals when ever he is without.

Jorrus is a published poet inside the Empire under the pen name “David Hasselhop”

His favorite season is spring in the mountains and owns a log cabin on a lake.

He loves wearing bracelets and often has a dozen or so on when not in dress uniform.

5 Things they like:

The Empire and it’s ideals

Snowstorms

Hard work

Poetry

Yoga

5 Things they dislike:

Eorzeans; because of their selfish individualism and how it makes those at the bottom suffer

Greed

Cowardice

Lethargy

Too much sugar in his drinks

5 Good habits:

Energetic

Loyal

Honest

Charitable

Diligent

5 Bad habits:

Curious

Dogmatic

Harsh

Unwavering

Distant

5 Personalities they gravitate toward:

Confident

Witty

Humorous

Ambitious

Persevering

5 Personality types they tend to avoid:

Timid folks

Fools

Thugs

Those idealists that say everyone can get along

Naive

5 Fears:

Seeing the Empire fall

Tight places and cages

Failing his fellows in arms

Poisons

[vanitysruin]

Prompt 24: UNDERTONE

To have company upon the road again was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. Certainly he was a noisy and callous sort, but that was already known. He blasphemed as if his life depended on it, and she'd grown weary of chastising him for it. Not even the Twelve could silence him it seemed for every chance to send him beyond the gate thus far had met with failure. Mergrey was too mad and too clever a thing to care for their opinion and it would not surprise Delial in the least if it were his stubbornness that granted him his apparent immortality, wretched as it was. Still, he made surprisingly good company when he so wished, and she did not long for conversation as their road shifted from Thanalan into the Shroud.

At some point, he will need to know. Such was the thought that resurfaced again and again. Delial was not a liar: by this she had stood firm and true, and staked much of her pride upon it. What she was, rather, was cautious, and if there was anything she could proclaim to be an expert at it was the art of deflection and redirection. With Roen, she spoke openly of things she'd never dare say to almost anyone, and managed to leave the truth of her departure obscured. Such was always the way, it seemed: Delial built her life upon half-truths and semantics and prayed none would dig too deep.

It worked, mostly, but never forever.

"-- or something like that? As much as I hate to admit it, you'd know better than me."

"Hm?"

Mergrey scowled at her and thrashed his disaster of a tail. "C'mooooon, Delial, get with it. I'm tryin' to have a healthy conversation here but it's like I'm talkin' to a delightfully leggy wall."

"Forgive me," she said, inclining her head. "A bit tired, I think. Distracted."

It didn't seem to please Askier in the least, but he hmphed and nodded and fell into an agitated silence. He was an excitable thing especially when new prospects were awaiting him on the horizon. That he wished to go with her came as a great surprise, one that she had been reluctant to accept. As with most everything else, she wove her words around the heart of it, the truth that called out to her. She said nothing of her home of her dreams or of the stone at her breast that whispered louder and louder still for every sun that passed.

He would find out soon enough.

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

His personality actually!  For Tray, I wanted to make someone as opposite as my main at the time, Askier Mergrey, as I could to stretch my writing skills.  Tray was super quiet and polite when he first was born but has slowly developed over the years into the smooth-talking, blunt fellow he is today.  It’s been fun to see him change as a result of rp.

[theduplicitousdame]

Honest Q&A Meme - Naharé Mergrey

What is your full name? “X'nahala Rahz. It's a dead name ta me. Naharé Mergrey is tha name I will live an' die by."

What do your friends call you? “Fer tha most part I respond ta Naha or Powder Keg. Given me temperament tha latter should be pretty self explanatory.”

What is your favorite animal? “Hm. D'lyhhia's lil' dodo has grown on me. Me mammet, Fidget, ain't an animal, but I do love 'im. Sometimes. Tha bugger can get annoyin'.”

Where were you born? “Limsa Lominsa. An' damn well proud 'o it!”

Do you have children? “Aye, I do. Twins. Alexei an' Ana. Me husband wasn't able ta sire so we chose a surrogate.”

Is there a person/people you love? “Love is a pain in tha arse, but I do have people close ta me. Askier Mergrey, me husband, though it ain't tha same as it used ta be. Rollin' Stone m'pretty sweet on. A damn good lookin' man that has his shite together. D'lyhhia Lhuil I care fer like she's me lil' sister."

What is your favorite color? “Ah. Jus' one? That ain't fair. M'gonna give ye four. Black, red, gold, an' purple. I've been told I look good in those colors. They're also relatively easy ta mix an' match.

What is your full occupation? “Heh... Me primary job is with tha Black Pearl Tradin' Company. D'lyhhia helped me get tha job. With 'em I operate outta tha Limsa port managing tha inventory, as well as loadin' an' movin' tha crates. We're also allied with tha Maelstrom as one 'o their trade levies.

When I'm able ta I teach BPT crew basic hand-ta-hand an' gunner combat. What good are tha crew if'n they can't even defend themselves?

Me personal work consists 'o developin' mammets an' turrets, buildin' an' repairin' guns, an' doin' engineer work. I like ta keep me hands busy.”

Are you good at physical fighting? “Damn righ' I am. Fist slingin' was tha firs' thing I learned. Then I learned ta add me feet an' even me teeth. I'll admit I dun play fair. I dun care, either. I'll even use whatever is nearby ta knock ye on yer arse.

As soon as I got me hands on a gun it was all downhill from there. Well, uphill fer me, downhill fer tha sod on tha receivin' end. I put all me attention inta learnin' ev'ry single detail.”

Which form are you best at? “Both. I never let meself get rusty. With tha type 'o environment I work in I can't afford ta let meself get rusty.”

What about magic? “Nay. Nay. An' nay some more. I hate magic. All 'o it. Get it away from me an' keep it that way. I've had too much shite happen ta me an' other people I know from that accursed practice. If'n I see magic users durin' battle then I shoot them firs'. No exceptions. Me half-brother practices tha healin' arts. I tell 'im ta go away an' do it if'n I can."

Which type are you best at? “I dun do magic so I ain't got a type that m'best at.”

Craftsmanship? “I mentioned it earlier. I can build mammets an' turrets. I can also build an' repair guns. Some explosives I can do. Engineering is another thing. Puttin' together Magitek prosthetics I have a knack fer considerin' I got meself one.”

Any other skills? “I can make seashell jewelry, but I dun do it often.”

Are you an only child? “Nay. I have a half-brother, Khajirr, an' a twin sister, Tohba.”

Where do you see yourself in five years? “Alive. Hopefully. If'n only fer tha sake 'o me kids. They ain't old 'nough ta go without me yet. After that? M'not sure.”

Have you ever almost died? “... Aye. Me late brother-in-law was driven ta madness by magics I'd rather not speak 'o. He's tha reason I hate any kind 'o magic. Tha bastard terrorized me an' me family fer tha better part 'o a year. Maybe longer. I've been shot at, stabbed, beaten, scarred... But nothin' compares ta tha abuse from me brother-in-law.”

Do you have a secret, not just a secret, but like a really big secret hardly anyone knows? “Aye, I do. But ye asked me if'n I had one, not tha context. So ye dun get tha context.”

Salty or sweet? “Um, in tha middle? I dun like ta indulge meself too much in one 'o tha other.”

Do you like yourself? “Heh... Sure.”

Do you believe in the Twelve? “Nay. I dun believe in wastin' a good part 'o me time dedicated ta tha Twelve. I only pay partial mind ta Llymlaen.”

Are you religious? “Did ye listen ta me jus' a second ago?”

Do you carry prejudice with you? “I despise most Seeker lads. Tha ones that try ta act like Nunhs, or are Nunhs, are full 'o shite. They ain't as special as they make themselves out ta be. Yer life is more than jus' tryin' ta see who has tha bigger dick an' how many women ye can shove it inta.

An' speakin' o' Seeker women. The ones that even abide by those stupid traditions are nothin' more than glorified breedin' cattle.

Ain't too fond 'o Xaela, either. They seem like a bunch 'o brutes? I dunno. There's too many 'o their damn tribes ta keep up with. I like tha Raen folks more.”

What do you consider entertainment? “Tavern crawlin', an' watchin' people beat tha shite outta each other in taverns or at fightin' events. I like ta jump in meself from time ta time. I like ta see what people are made 'o, an' if'n I can go toe-ta-toe with 'em.”

Favorite drink? “Rum. I dun leave tha house without a flask 'o rum on me. If'n I drink anythin' else then it's pineapple juice. Sometimes mixed with tha rum.”

Do you have any family traditions? “Not really? Sometimes I'll put up some decorations fer holidays, mostly fer Starlight.”

Are you a good person? “I know m'not.”

Thank you for answering my questions. “Tch. I gotta get back ta work.”

Tagged By: @jancisstuff! I had a lot of fun with this!

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[theduplicitousdame]

In-Depth Character Guide: Naharé Mergrey

Appearance

gender: Female race: Miqo’te, Seeker of the Sun height: 5'4" eye color: Gold hair color: Wine Red

The basics

name day: 8th Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon occupation: Mercenary, Engineer sexual identification: Pansexual romantic identification: Polyromantic alignment: Chaotic Neutral criminal history: Public Intoxication, Theft, Assault, Aggravated Assault relationship status: Estranged from Askier kir Mergrey sweet on: Rolling Stone

Favorites

favorite food: Rabbit Pie favorite drink: Rum and whiskey favorite artist: None favorite scent: Jasmine, sea salt, grease, sweat, leather, alcohol/tobacco favorite person: D'lyhhia Lhuil

Ten random facts

1 –  As much as Naharé hates her parents, she'll privately make jewelry out of sea shells and beads like her mother, or go fishing like her father. Those are two of what little 'good memories' she's managed to hold on to.

2 – Whenever Naharé isn't covered in grease, sweat, or blood, she'll sometimes dab on a small amount of jasmine perfume.

3 – Her birth name is X'nahala Rahz, one she grew to loathe with every fiber of her being. As such she changed it to Naharé. For shits and giggles she tacked on her estranged husband's last name to be rid of the 'Rahz'.

4 – She hates dresses, skirts, blouses, and any other type of feminine clothing.

5 – Unfortunately she suffers from PTSD, night terrors, paranoia, and is prone to sudden mood swings. She's been admitted to 'chirurgeon care' twice.

6 – Naharé has a twin sister, X'tohba Rahz, and a half-brother, X'khajirr Tia, whom she tolerates.

7 – The bomb earring she wears is actually an escape route. Inside the earring is an aetheryte shard tuned to a random location within Eorzea. All she has to do is twist and yank the post and she'll disappear in blinding light as if a flash bang grenade went off. Naharé has multiple of these and she changes them out everyday.

8 – She's a horrible cook and prefers to leave the more complicated dishes to the professionals. On her own she's able to make simple meals to get by.

9 – Despite finding her kids to be an annoyance when it comes to getting work done, she also loves them. Beforehand she experienced a miscarriage and spent a good while devastated by the feeling. Naharé will curl up with them on her chest and spend time teaching them developmental skills appropriate for their age. She herself is learning 'how to mom' and will observe other moms while out in public settings.

10 – When it comes to drafting schematics and building/repairing new things, Naharé is very OCD and won't stop until every little thing is perfect. If she's going to do it, it's going to be done right.

Five things

5 things they like:

1. The fact that she can build Magitek prosthetics and almost anything Magitek in general. 2. Walking along the beach and swimming when no one is there. 3. Brawling, whether it be in a tournament or by instigation. 4. Practicing her gun slinging. 5. Reading, especially when it expands on skills she's already learned.

5 things they dislike:

1. People who are late or lazy. She can be very impatient at times. 2. Being cheated out of gil. 3. Frigid environments. 4. People that are too nosey and suffocating for their own good. 5. Being told what to do or restricted from anything.

5 good habits:

1. Loyal to those that eventually earn her trust. She'll defend them tooth and nail, and will relentlessly hunt down the offender if their grievance is severe enough. 2. Willingness to teach others if she believes they deserve it, for a price that is. 3. Does her best to uphold a positive image around D'lyhhia and their work with the Black Pearl Trading Company. (See, she can do a straight and narrow job too!) 4. Fulfilling personal work orders and delivering them on time. 5. Actually giving back items she's 'borrowed', whether she had permission, or by surprise and returning them in the same manner.

5 bad habits:

1. She's addicted to alcohol and tobacco, and will even partake of such activities in front of her kids. 2. She'll sleep as little as possible to avoid night terrors. 3. Brutally honest, and swears like a sailor, to the point that it doesn't phase her if it hurts the other person's feelings. 4. Manipulating situations to get what she wants while coming across as genuine and charming. 5. Harboring grudges. If something left a royally sour taste in her mouth then she won't let it go if her life depended on it.

5 personalities they gravitate toward:

1. Other mercenaries and engineers that share a similar lifestyle or end goal when it comes to contracts. 2. Those that hate nearly the same things she does. 3. People that enjoy smoking, boozing, brawling, and gambling. 4. Musers of Garlean technology. 5. Anyone that understands how to immediately back off when space is needed.

5 personality types they avoid:

1. Goody two-shoed holier-than-thou law enforcement or individuals like that in general. There's irony in this because she's part of FLEET Maelstrom Command's Foreign Levy under Trade Sails. Minding her tongue will be a feat in of itself. 2. Needy people that refuse to stand up for themselves or make their own decisions. 3. Magic users. Too many bad experiences, and she'll even priority shoot them during combat. 4. Manipulators working against her. (That's her specialty!) 5. Religious fanatics.

5 fears:

1. Having her kids taken away from her even though she's most definitely not the world's best mom. 2. Despite having been on airships and flying mounts, she's terrified of heights and will belly crawl on airships or close her eyes while flying if she has a partner. 3. The word and phrase, "Darling" and "Would you kindly?". 4. Unable to withstand the sound of ticking clocks. 5. Anything to do with magic.

Thank you: @jancisstuff, @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, and @mirkemenagerie!