SFW
Slippers
Smuggling Swashbuckler•
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Race
Roegadyn
Clan
Sea Wolf
Free Company
None
Introduction
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Player's notes
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Character Information
Basic details about Slippers
Age
In their 30s
Race
Roegadyn
Partner
Married
Pronouns
She/Her
Occupation
Smuggler
Body Type
Tall and Muscular
Birthplace
Limsa Lominsa
Residence
The Mist
Background
The story of the character's origins
Smuggler
The salty air blasted in the faces of the eager fishermen lining the deck of the ship as it skirted the Moraby Bay of Lower La Nosca.
In the distance, decorated houses beamed cheerily down at the golden shores of The Mist housing areas. Looming windmills, sails, glistening sun and the bright chatter of seagulls plucked the air as the fishers breathed contentedly and cast their lines.
It was the perfect day for a fishing expedition, and as the first jerk of a rod and jingle of bells pitched the deck into an excited rush, a seagull surveyed them quietly from its roost on the mast.
”Another! Quick! Churn the spectral current!” A booming voice egged on from the gang deck.
Soon enough, the air filled with the screeches of seagulls and cheers of dolphins. As the sky erupted in prismatic hues, the lone, quiet bird jumped off the mast and flapped down to the aft of the ship.
There, unbeknownst to the cheering and pulling fishermen above, a small boat slid alongside the ship.
The figure wore an immense hat and mask, shielding their size and shape from curious onlookers should they happen to capture a glimpse. Satisfied that their cover was good, the captain tossed down a rope ladder and motioned for the stranger to ascend.
Now on deck with a few others, the figure was decidedly towering over the other Miqo'te and even a few of the Roegadyn that manned the ship. She was clad in a silky blouse and a worn, formal seafarer’s outfit as she moved to grab a few barrels from the aft and lowered them into the boat below.
As the spectral current reached its zenith, the fervor of the deck became almost deafening. She was easily ignored in spite of her size and bizarre clothing. She hoisted barrel after barrel into the boat, passed the captain a bag that jingled, and disappeared over the side once more.
”Lucky, that,” she thought, rowing back to shore.
On the beach, a few men worked quickly to bring her haul to the housing district. She directed them to a small plot up on the hill.
”The bakery,” she nodded. “Flour, eggs, milk. You know.”
Neither of the young Hyur questioned it further. She was simply offering them a cover story for when the dock master asked.
Sure enough, cresting the hill was teal-tiled roof. A little cafe sat pleasantly in its surroundings. Balloons festooned the yard, and seating was in abundance, ready for the occasional vacationer or neighbor. Right now, the yard was empty, but few would have questioned the supply run except for the flamboyant lady leading the way.
She raised her mask, knowing her neighbors were used to such sights. A freckled, pale face took in her surroundings and breathed a sigh of relief as the barrels made it through the door. Finally, she removed the ridiculous hat and shed the seafarer’s coat, glad to enjoy the warmth of the sun as it danced on her strawberry blonde hair.
Inside, another Roegadyn woman nodded to her. Her dress was coated in flour, and she was tapping out a few numbers on the cash register.
”Busy morning, Midge?” The smuggler asked.
”Not enough. We really should move closer to the beach if your legal business is going to thrive,” muttered the flour-speckled woman, rubbing the bridge of her nose where her spectacles rested.
The smuggler shrugged and lifted a barrel. The smells of warm bread filled her large nose. She moved through the bakery, a pleasant little cafe with a few overstuffed chairs and a small dining table, and made her way to the bookshelf beside a goldfish tank.
The bookshelf slid open, revealing a small stairwell. Hoisting the barrel, she moved quickly to relocate her booty and close the doors before a curious customer should happen to come in this late in the day.
Down the stairs, a whole other world emerged.
The pleasant music of the bakery upstairs was contrasted sharply with the wooden interior of what looked surprisingly like a ship hold below. In point of fact, it was a ship, though long repurposed for this area and buried into the hillside under her little shop. The timbers creaked beneath her boots in a satisfying, familiar way, and the light poured in through various, paned windows but still failed to illuminate all of the dark hovel.
Along the back wall, a large bar boasted barrels full of ales, beers, and wines. A miqote thoughtfully scrubbed the table while a Namazu carried a pile of plates for washing. The seagull cheered its approval and flapped down to inspect a dirty plate on a round table top held up by a barrel.
”More guests, yes-yes?” Gyojaja asked while R’haun shooed away the seagull who plucked hopefully at a piece of bread left behind.
”Yes-yes,” the smuggler answered, grabbing a pry bar from beside the three-tiered bunk beds along the stairwell.
The splitting crack of the wood and nails echoed through the ship hull, and she praised the lid up.
”Welcome, Janpopo,” she said to the cautious lalafell within, “to Slippers’s Loafers. I’ll be your host this evening. You may call me Slippers.”
Small and covered in sawdust, the indignant lalafell young man accepted her arm to lift him out of the barrel.
”You needn’t have been so rough,” he grumbled, dusting himself off and blinking in the sudden light.
”You’re not exactly fleeing this continent on good terms,” Slippers noted. “A double spy for the Garleans and Ul’Dah. There are people on both sides who would rather you were in a cell right now.” She held up a hand to quell his protests. “Before you mouth off, I have those accommodations, as well. Would you rather listen?”
He thought about it for a moment, dark moustache twitching in a frown, before nodding. His dignity had already suffered enough damage in fleeing the city.
”You paid me to hide your whereabouts and help you set up a new life. I didn’t promise luxury accommodations, and you know that,” she continued. “That said, the beds, bar, and bakery are yours to enjoy while we get your paperwork in order.”
”And afterward?”
The bright, turquoise eyes of his host glinted, “We go to the New World, Monsieur Lalatoto.”
He nodded, acknowledging the new name and taking in the towering height of his host. In spite of her size, dangerous work, and dingy surroundings, she beamed as excitedly as a child preparing for a trip to the countryside. Adventurers were truly cut from strange cloth.
___
Slippers Pantoufle - The odd daughter of a Hellsguard Roegadyn father and Sea Wolf mother, she spent her childhood on the decks of Limsa Lominsa. Originally named “Slippery Pontoon” in the style of her father’s kind, her nickname came about from an early age, adopting the moniker for her love of comfy footwear and thrill of learning languages. Adventurous and a little on the feral side, she learned sailing early on and enjoyed long journeys.
In particular, she was enamored with tales of the New World, and looked to the horizons to find her own adventure. What she found was a lucrative smuggling operation. With the tyranny of the Garlean Empire starting to fall, she found creative ways to smuggle refugees and political asylum seekers out of Garlemald or through the occupied territories. Rumor has it, her network of smugglers is the main purchaser of unregistered “Fantasias” for their refugee operations. Although, of course, no one can substantiate such a claim.
In her spare time, she enjoys crafting and baking, and this offshoot interest led her to opening her bakery: Slippers’s Loafers. While the patrons can enjoy a puffy pastry on the beachside cafe, her more covert friends can enjoy the bar below, serving as a base of operations.
With the collapse of the Garlean Empire, she faces a new transition in her industry. As fewer have need of her services, she looks again to the world beyond the ocean.
Visit Slippers’s Loafers on Diabolos, The Mist Ward 27, Plot 48