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Post by Faris Scherwiz on Dec 16, 2016 18:50:25 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken
WOOT. FIGHTS. Open to everyone. x3
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
There was a snarl, a whooping cry, and Faris shooting from the sky like a the world's thorniest arrow. His spear pierced the beast's leathery wing, trapping it in a downward trajectory towards the earth below. They crashed together -- the beast clumsily with its head gashing the rocks and Faris solidly with a metallic clang of his boots. He ripped the spear from its flesh, spun it around once, and then thrust it into the beast's scaled neck. It screeched, flailing its claws in futile resistance, but the damage was done. Faris planted a boot on its shoulder and heaved his spear from the wound. Warm blood flicked his hands and face as he stepped back, heart pounding. Without thinking, he gave his weapon a final spin and let it rest decisively against his shoulders.
The crowd erupted in wild applause. Faris grinned widely.
The invitation to an illegal beast fighting ring on the forested outskirts of Provo hadn't excited him much at first. In fact, he'd barely registered the offer between the warm haze of whiskey and the adrenaline of a good bar fight. It had taken until a particularly depressing evening at that same bar to drive him to a desperate point like this. There'd been a sad choice in company, a sad choice in liquor (that was to say none), and not a thing to do about it. Not until said company had sparked his memory about a particular offer Faris had half brushed off as a dream.
If he couldn't have alcohol, he could at least have adrenaline. And at that moment, still bloodied from pinning a dragon at forty feet high, he couldn't have said which was more potent.
"There's not a beast alive who can take the fight out of me!" Faris lifted his spear triumphantly and gave a sort of war cry. His audience followed suit, and Faris could have sailed on the waves of their energy alone. "Which lot of you has the brass to fight? Which of you can even try? Lift your blades and say aye!"
They did not say 'aye' (no one did around here), but they did cheer again, and he supposed that was something. With his heart still racing and his mind still rushing with excitement, Faris tossed his spear over his shoulder and headed for the sidelines. There wasn't much to distinguish the crowd from the action -- just a pit, a ladder, and some boulders which did nothing against the flying enemies when unchained. But everyone here was some kind of warrior or another, and if they fell in a battle that wasn't even their own, well, that was on them, wasn't it? Faris hauled himself over the edge of the ladder and sauntered back to his companion. A monk, or at least, that's what he thought that man was.
"That was quite the spectacle, wasn't it, lad?" Faris crossed his arms casually, but couldn't remove the nearly crazed glint in his eye. His fingers itched with the fight. "I told you I had an idea, didn't I? Better than lazing around in old bars, anyway."
He did not mention that he had only left the bar because he'd been refused service. Nor had he mentioned that he'd never wanted to come here in the first place. None of that mattered now.
"So, is there a beast that's caught your eye? Or a man, perhaps? You told a grand tale of those punches!"
As Faris spoke, his eyes scanned the crowd, tallying up the other warriors as though they were fine ale. Each had a different flavor -- a different fight. He let his armor fade with the Light of the Crystals. His red dragoon helm dissolved to loosely tied hair and his plate mail returned to his usual tunic. His thumb twitched at the edge of the dagger he kept at his belt. His eyes blazed with anticipation.
The monk sat in the participants stand as Faris took on his challenge, as the matches were one on ones during the time Faris dragged him along to it. However, the monk still could not stop but feel uncomfortable about the idea of the area they were in. This was a place where warriors and townsfolk could watch others murder monsters for sport, with weary a worry about them if things started going out of hand.
That was the main worry, though: What would happen if things DID get out of hand? Was everyone simply expected to jump in on anything that started to break free and attack the crowds? Was there any magic made to prevent a stray fireball or bolt of lightning to not pierce through someone who simply wanted to watch… or bet.
Even from where he sat, he could hear the calls of wagers for the next match along with the people placing their funds onto whoever would win or by how fast the match would go. Some of those that were being betted on seemed popular enough for them to be known by name, but for those like Faris or himself, they were noted more as “Newbie in Color.”
When Faris came up and sat next to him, some of the crew members went to remove the dead wyvern from the arena before getting ready to bring in a new cage. “I must admit: I have never seen lancemanship like that before, and the crowd certainly liked it as well. It was a daring sky battle.” Still, one false move, and the crowds could still have been destroyed.
When Faris tried to see into what he was going to be after, one of the managers called out, “Newbie in Red, you’re up,” causing the monk to sigh.
“Well,” the monk began to explain, “It seemed that while you were doing your aerial dance, they had chosen a target for me on their own. Said it would make for an entertaining show.” This was nothing like the tournaments that were held in Cornelia. There was no sport. No honor. No respect. This was entertainment through bloodshed, and the monk was dragged along into it. Though what the monk hated more than being dragged into said mess was having no real way on shutting it down.
“Wish me luck,” he told Faris before heading towards the ladder, sliding down as the announcer rang loud on the next match up, unveiling the curtain on the cage to reveal a turtle whose shell was made of crystal: the Adamantoise.
Without the monk’s vision fading out, he knew it was going to be a east he would know nothing of.
The sounds of warmongering and clashing of steel that echoed throughout the forest caused the few peaceful creatures left in the cursed place to quickly turned tale and run. A roaring crowd soon followed as the sounds drew closer to the lone traveler that walked through the old trees that scattered the forest. It isn't long before this traveler soon arrives at the entrance to this fighting pit, dried blood caked the walls as fragments of older conquests lied scattered across the ground inside the pit... Truly this was a forbidden, or at least a frowned upon test of skill.
The traveling figure in the blue cloak and orange hat puts down a few gold coins at the entrance and is quickly pulled into the waiting competitors, and soon finds a seat in one of the only open spaces, the place right next to the winner of the earlier round. The man in red robes seamed unhappy with this place, and though no-one could see the figure's face, she herself was frowning at the thought of killing for sport... The only reason she came here was because she overheard someone say they made a killing off of a opponent team... that and she is really desperate for traveling supplies.
A quick look around showed the "arena" barely more than a deep hole in the ground, with chairs and benches on the outer side. The sounds of falling coins and the evident showing of coin-purses in the audience meant the place was a betting ground. It was worse than cards, because in cards, you don't loos your life for coins.
"Of all the times to be short on coins..." mumbled the cloaked figure as she realizes the spear wielding... man, or at least who she thought was a man, watch the red robed man go out and start his match. "Is he a friend of yours?" questioned the cloaked figure in a feminine voice as she shifted in her seat and a glint of sharp metal came from inside her cloak, though she didn't draw it. "Let's just pray that he doesn't get damaged... or innocents dont get caught in the crossfire..
She could tell that the man that went out there was strong, you would have to be completely unobservant to not notice that about him "Maybe he would know of an one eyed healer..." She says to herself, not caring who over hears her.
Final Fantasy V
23
YEARS
Trans Male
Single
Pansexual
245 POSTS
Fin
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Dec 21, 2016 9:53:56 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Did you see that FF5 reference I put in there? Did you see?
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
“I must admit: I have never seen lancemanship like that before, and the crowd certainly liked it as well. It was a daring sky battle.”
Faris grinned wider at the praise. Daring. That's the kind of word he liked to hear. Sky battle, too, though for different reasons. Nothing bad could ever come out of a sky battle, and not a daring one at that. He nodded proudly. "Aye, well it was a mean one. I'm a fan of dragons, you see, but that one was nothing but trouble. It would've turned on a man in an instant -- I can tell these things. Someone needed to take the wind from its wings." And that someone had been Faris. Of course it had been when Faris knew dragons like the back of his hand. He'd known Syldra's every mood and expression, just as she'd known his.
His heart tinged a little at the thought of it. If only Syldra were here, Faris could have gotten a ship no matter what the locals tried, and he could have sailed it too all by himself. Just him and his dragon -- like a sister, really. He'd never forget the day he watched her struggle for the last time beneath the waves. He could still feel the warm waters lapping against his hands as his knees dug helplessly into sand. "Newbie in Red, you're up!"
Faris jumped a little at the orders. The monk gave him an almost regretful look before standing. "Well, it seemed that while you were doing your aerial dance, they had chosen a target for me on their own. Said it would make for an entertaining show.” Douken didn't sound pleased about it. If anything, he sounded downright dreadful, but Faris didn't let that get to him. He just gave the man a solid nod, grin returning in full force.
"Then give them a show, if you have a mind to. I'd like to get a look at those punches myself."
"Wish me luck," the monk replied before shuffling hesitantly towards the ladder. Watching him, Faris almost felt a little bad for dragging him here -- maybe it wasn't his thing? -- but the whole evening was too fun to really care. Faris wanted to fight, and he didn't want to do it alone. If that meant dragging an unwilling man to an illegal, back-forest monster fighting ring then so be it.
As long as it kept him from thinking for a little while longer.
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"Eh?" Faris glanced to the woman beside him. She was a little stiff for his liking, eyes worrying, clothes clean and set straight. If nothing else, she looked a bit disapproving of the current situation, frowning like she was. She reached for something inside of her cloak.
"Let's just pray that he doesn't get damaged," she said, "Or innocents don't get caught in the crossfire."
Faris shrugged. "He can handle himself, I think. He wouldn't've agreed to it if he couldn't. And if someone's got the brass to come watch then they've either got a lot of fight in them or they're as dumb as a rock. No one here's an innocent, I can tell you that."
Still, the woman seemed worried. She leaned forward, eyes carefully narrowed as Douken readied himself in the ring. "Maybe he would know of a one eyed healer..." she muttered to herself, but it didn't sound like the kind of thing that Faris was meant to hear. He feigned ignorance and settled back uneasily. It seemed too many people nowadays were resting their hopes on what someone else might know.
The ground rumbled as a switch was flipped. There was a screeching cry then a deep, metallic shake. A curtain was raised, and Faris saw it -- the creature Douken would have to face. At first, Faris thought it might just be a big boulder, but then it raised its reptilian neck, eyes narrowed in fury. Faris blinked at its bald head, its four awkward legs, and its toothless mouth. He almost laughed until it gave another cry and the earth shook again. He braced himself against the tremors. If nothing else, it seemed to pack a punch.
"Give it a fight, Douken!" he cried from the sidelines. "Make turtle soup out of it!"
There was a click, a roar, and the cage flung open.
The crowd was a murmur as the ringleaders made sure the lock mechanism was ready to trigger on their command while getting the turtle set up towards the monk. During this time, though, he placed a closed fist upon an open palm before giving the beast a long bow, speaking to it, “Please forgive me for what I am about to do.” His eyes locked with the turtle’s as the beast shifted around restlessly. “May our encounter had been on the roads, I would have had no qualm in defeating you to ensure I live another day, but today, we meet in a place I hold dear. Unless I can find an option to spare you, I will be forced to take your life. I hope you understand.”
As the monk murmured to the turtle, keeping the bowed stance, the crowd around Faris and Aria began to pick up. “What is this, a prayer to the beast?” came from one end. “C’mon, just kill it!” from other. “As if a pair of fists will even dent that armored shell,” chuckled in the back. Whether it had been the monk’s actions to his gear (or lack thereof), the crowds were keen on finding a way to insult the greenhorn to their turf and entertainment.
After giving word to his opponent, the monk took in a deep breath, concentrating his energy. He could feel his ki radiate from his body as he readied himself for combat, and with the deep focus, worked to compress it tightly around his arms before letting out a heavy exhale before taking up his stance. In return, the tortoise responded with its own war cry, quieting the murmurs around them, leaving the field in a moment of silence. There, the silence sat dormant (aside from a single voice), resting for what felt like an eternity as the anticipation grew, until it was broken by the heavy clank!
Upon release of its prison, the adamantoise rushed over at the monk, aiming to snap at his legs, though the monk moved to block it, by having it snap at his left arm. Even without teeth though, the pressure from the bite was immense. Possibly able to break bone if not for the hardened leather gloves and the soft inner padding to absorb some of the crushing impact. Still, the monk did wince, but did not budge as he made sure the beast had a firm grip before forcing his left arm upwards, slowly exposing the underpart of the shell.
Feeling the grip loosen thanks to the position shift, the monk took quick advantage of it to deliver a piercing blow into the underside of the tortoise, though a right jab. Though what may have looked like a single punch, the arena echoed four impacts next to each other, as if that moment the monk threw four punches. The shock threw the tortoise back a bit, releasing his arm before a left hook, again with the four hit echo before finally a quick knee to shove the adamantoise onto the back of its gemmed shell with a loud thud.
“And with that, the match is over,” the monk decided for himself as he turned back around to the latter, quickly filling the arena with the echo of boos and insults as well as the main guard to the exit blocking him.
“Finish your match,” the guard told him.
“The beast is helpless now. The rough back makes it impossible to roll back over and fight, and if it had magic, it would have shot me with it while it was still inside the cage. The match is over. If you want it dead, then kill it yourself.” Pushing him aside, the monk forced himself back up the ladder and towards his seat.
Along the way, Douken reached into his vest to pull out a potion vial before taking a drink to help relieve his arm of the pain of the bite as he headed back to his seat with Faris. “I see you got company,” the monk commented, giving her a quick glace-over. One thing did stand out to him like a sore thumb. “That hat you wear… it reminds me of the student Black Mages in the kingdom I am from.”
The man, who watched the monk walk out, stated that all those in the seats around them weren't innocent, yet Aria still wished no harm on those who did,t deserve it... She soon was about to introduce herself to the man, before the monk who seamed to be called Douken by his companion, faced his combat partner... A large turtle with it's shell coated in minerals and a bluish crystal like substance. Just one look could tell that the shell of the beast would be unable to be pierced by any normal means. And though the roar from the creature shook the ground itself, the monk in red seemed unfazed at the beast that was soon revealed to be his opponent... in fact, he was seemingly praying!
Soon the boos and insults from the audience became silent as the cage was opened, the beast taking little time to move(ironically since it's a turtle like creature)as it snapped it's twisted beak in the monk's direction, apparently catching the, thankfully, armored hand of the puny human before it. But the monk lifted the arm bitten by the beast, raising the beast along with it, and seemingly hitting it once, yet the solid sounds of echoing impacts counted four in number. This caused the beast's underbelly crack, before the monk quickly made a knee strike upwards that sent the beast onto it's back, and dazed from the blows.
"Amazing! He surly is a powerful fighter!" said Aria more than a bit exited by the sheer spectacle, yet she held her breath for the monk's next move. He seemed to mutter something under his breath as he soon turned towards the entrance, this caused the boos from the crowd to come back with a vengeance, and even the entrance guard tried getting him to finish the dazed beast off. Yet he refused once again, and pushed back into the rest area.
He soon sat down in his seat, and took only what Aria could guess was a healing potion, as the monk soon noticed her and remarked "I see you got company" in a familiar accent that came from her home! He soon stated that he noticed her hat, saying that it remembered him of the Black Mages in his home kingdom, and though he didn't look familiar to her, he had this air of familiarity to him. "And the kingdom you come from, is it called Cornelia?" she asked, taking her hat of and folding it into a more manageable size, before offering to shake his hand "Aria, Aria Canus. Black Mage of Cornelia, and you are?" she only slightly forgot about the question she was going to ask him, as he seemed like the kind of person who often got injured and in fights like the one that was just shown.
Final Fantasy V
23
YEARS
Trans Male
Single
Pansexual
245 POSTS
Fin
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Dec 28, 2016 14:59:14 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Faris is impulsive. And a red mage now.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Douken's fight didn't start well.
Despite his lack of resistance and Faris' genuine hope for a new friend, the monk made it very clear that he did not want to be here. He didn't do much of anything once facing the earthy beast. In fact, he bowed to it, like the turtle was some kind of princess. The whole situation was so ridiculous, that Faris would have laughed if he hadn't felt so uneasy about it. 'If he didn't want to be here, then why didn't he say anything?' Faris thought followed by, 'Did I gave him time to say no?' Faris considered the events of the last hour, but couldn't remember any dissent from Douken's part. But then, he couldn't think of much Douken had said period. Faris stifled a groan, 'There you go, Faris, letting your impulses get the best of you again.'
The crowd wasn't pleased with the monk. They'd come for bloodshed and excitement from skilled monster hunters -- not displays of etiquette to reptiles. Faris winced at each slander. This was his fault. If he'd taken just a moment to listen to the monk, then he wouldn't be down there now, awkwardly staring down some kind of hell beast or another. Faris considered jumping into the ring himself. He considered calling down and telling the poor man that it was alright -- he didn't need to prove himself and he didn't need to be here -- but he didn't get the chance. The turtle had broken free before Faris could make a decision.
"Look out!"
The turtle charged with alarming speed, rushing forward and snapping immediately at the monk's legs. Douken was thrown backwards, one arm smashed in the monster's mouth. All he saw was that sharp mouth, Douken's pained expression, and Faris was running. He reached for his weapon -- a dagger! Not enough! -- before cursing and whispering to the crystals. "Damn it! Give me something! Anything!" They answered with a flash of light. Faris didn't know what class he'd taken. It didn't matter, as long as he felt the protective grip of armor and the familiar weight of a blade in his hand. He grabbed the weapon blindly as soon as it materialized and moved to vault over the ring.
"Hold on! I'm-!"
Douken punched the turtle so hard that it spat him out as it flew across the arena and skidded helplessly onto its back.
"...coming." Faris finished, leg still half-hoisted onto the ring's outer wall.
Douken argued something that Faris couldn't hear as the crowd jeered. Whatever it was, Douken didn't seem overly bothered by it as he turned and started towards the ladder. Faris pushed away from the wall before he climbed up, trying to look natural despite being armed to the teeth. He glanced sheepishly at the weapon in his hand. A longsword. A look down showed a red cape rustling by his boots.
Apparently his subconscious had asked for the power of a red mage. There were definitely worse classes he could have ended up with. Like a dancer. That would have left a few awkward questions...
Faris tried to slip back to his seat before the monk could know he'd left it. Douken came up casually with an empty potion bottle in his hand. If he noticed Faris' change of clothes, he didn't comment. He didn't say anything about his injuries or the argument either. No, he just gestured at the woman behind Faris and said, “I see you got company." Honestly, Faris had completely forgotten about the dark-haired woman, but it seemed Douken hadn't. “That hat you wear. It reminds me of the student Black Mages in the kingdom I am from.”
"Hat?" Faris glanced between them, unable to get a word in otherwise before the woman's eyes lit up in recognition. She asked if he was from some place called Cornelia. Then she introduced herself as Aria Canus -- a black mage, just as he'd thought. Faris tilted his head. "By all the luck," he said, "Isn't that the same place you were going on about before?" He grinned a little at his new friend's fortune, but he couldn't help the pang of jealousy that pierced his heart.
'You're not the only one missing home.' In that moment, more than any other, he longed for the cheers of his crew, for Lenna's smiles, for Krile's laughs, and for Bartz's idiot grins. 'Maybe some of your luck will rub off on the rest of us.'
A small smile came on the monk’s face to hear the kingdom’s name from another’s mouth. From the blendings of people from other homelands, it felt quite refreshing. It was still a meeting with a stranger, but more-so in line with meeting a neighbor. Someone who knew the neighborhood that you grew up in as well. A bond of strangers, and yet comrades.
“That would be correct,” he used to answer both Faris and Aria at the same time, “though I did not grow up in the kingdom itself. Moreso, I grew up in the farmlands of Melmo—“ he was stopped midsentence as the monk’s head flew forward a bit before the thrown stone that hit him landed on the ground. Turning around at the direction, he was once again faced at the menacing crowd, eyes full of daggers and hatred as the rant grew rapidly. He had no time to worry about the blood seeping through his hair lightly, giving off a red bang amongst his blonde hair.
However, as things grew more hostile, the region itself began to grow cold before a booming voice announced, “Enough!” before an ice pillar jumped from the earth and through the turned over Adamantoise, a display caught by everybody inside, turning to the highest part of the arena, where only a few man sat by their lonesome with personal servants to boot. “Now that I have your attention, I shall make the call about this battle’s results. To our greenhorn in red,” he spoke as he turned his attention over to him, “That was magnificent skill you displayed. Not many here can topple such a beast with such ease without the proper gear, so I will decree you as the victor. However, seeing as you opted out of finishing your target, you will surrender your match rewards for the round. Last, but not least, you will partake in another round later tonight: No exceptions. Maybe then you will realize how things work here. With that out of the way, let us continue with our show. On to the next round!”
The crowd’s anger had certainly quelled at the man’s announcement, but hidden in the masses were some light chuckles, a couple people nearby whispering, “It has been a while since we had a Punishment Round,” followed by a “I wonder what kind of mess the champion will have to clean up.” Words from those who only watched, not partook. Words that new nothing.
“They call me the black sheep of the arena,” Douken muttered to himself, “but I am the only one with a white fleece.” Still, as the ice shattered away, the grounds crew once again began their clean up procedure as the next warrior got himself ready to leap down into the pit. During the time, the monk took off the leather gauntlet before inspecting the cuff that was chomped down upon, ensuring it was not too damaged, not really minding the set of bruises around where the bite went down, as the potion had already nullified most of the pain anyways.
After the quick inspection, he took a look at the now-Red Mage before giving him a bit of a smile. “I take it you did not dress up like that to show off,” he joked, though was still considerate to tell him, “Thanks for at least thinking about me down there. It’s almost like you are a different Faris than I saw in the bar.”
The monk clearly was greatful to hear of someone from his homeland, as was Aria, as she'd been searching for her brother for weeks. At least someone of familiarity brought her to relax... He soon started to state that though he didn't come from Cornelia himself, he was from an area close... he was quickly assaulted from behind, as blood seeped from a smaller wound caused by a stone, the crowd started to pick up more stones and more started to be flung towards the monk before a loud, booming voice told the watchers to stop. The announcer then listed many things he enjoyed about the fight, as the Adamantoise's was skewered by an ice spell from his finger tips, soon those tasked with cleaning the ring got to work.
The announcer then stated that though Douken didn't finish the beast off, he was the victor... Though he didn't get his reward for the match because of this same reason. "Are you alright?" Asked Aria, before the "Punishment Round" was announced. Douken soon examined his glove for any damage, and Aria finally got her opening to ask her question, this time she directed it to both her new Acquaintances(though they hadn't returned the good will of introducing themselves to her.) "Have you heard about the whereabouts of a One-Eyed Healer?" Her face showed some sort of concern as she continued her question "I've been searching for him for a while, and anywhere I expect him to be, he's unable to be found."
Final Fantasy V
23
YEARS
Trans Male
Single
Pansexual
245 POSTS
Fin
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Jan 4, 2017 7:38:12 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Fight? I think I smell a fight.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Douken was halfway through a friendly reunion when someone threw a rock at his head.
"Hey!" Faris was on his feet in a second, scanning the crowd for the culprit. "You yellow, feeble-hearted, son of a-!" All eyes had turned on them. Faris tried to stare them all down in turn, but there were too many to tell who'd done it, and no one was flinching. "Which of you cowards thought to hit a man from behind? You'll have my sword if you did!"
No one stepped forward to take the blame. Faris gave them all a dark scowl. "Cowards."
"Enough!" The ground shook with a blast of deep, rumbling magic. Faris braced himself against the tremors and whipped around to face the source -- a kind of crystalline tower shooting from the arena. Faris' eyes widened. Only a real mage could have managed that -- and a mighty powerful one at that. A sharp draft rushed from the thing and Faris shivered. It wasn't crystal. It was ice.
With everyone's attention thoroughly ensnared, a shadowy figure emerged from the arena's upper ledge (he hadn't noticed that either -- how had they managed something so elaborate in the middle of a haunted forest?). The figure spoke with a chilling bravado, congratulating Douken, revoking his victory (as if anyone cared), and then announcing something ominously titled a 'punishment round.' Faris stared in utter disbelief as all around, the crowd broke into agreeing murmurs.
About punishments.
About cleaning up messes.
Beside him, Douken shook his head. "They call me the black sheep of the arena, but I am the only one with a white fleece." Faris opened his mouth, but for once, found himself speechless. The events of the last two minutes failed to connect in his head. There'd been a magical blast, an icy column, and then some kind of nonsense about punishments. He wondered if he was having some kind of vivid, drunken dream again. It felt just as real as that woman in white, and it made just about as much sense.
Despite everything that had just happened, Douken turned to him and smiled. “I take it you did not dress up like that to show off,” he said, "Thanks for at least thinking about me down there. It’s almost like you are a different Faris than I saw in the bar.”
"Wha-?" Faris stuttered, "That's not-!" Then he took a breath, slowed down, and forced his brain to catch up with his mouth. His shock gave way to something red hot and feral. "Are you going to just take it then? These louts start throwing rocks and going on about punishments, and you're going to let them? Damned right I didn't put this on just to show off!" Faris suddenly found himself wishing for a more aggressive class. Not a red mage, but a dragoon again or maybe a monk or a ninja or even a berserker with where his mind was at. But he forced himself calm. If only until he'd finished everything that needed done.
"First off, stay still so I can fix you up. I'm better with a spear than magic, so I'm liable to set you on fire if you start wiggling." Faris grabbed Douken's injured arm -- too roughly. Lenna had always been better at healing -- and called on the best white magic he could manage. As it turned out, the best he could manage was a mid-level Cura spell, but it did the trick. The skin repaired itself. Most of the bruises faded. It still had a bit of a nasty green tinge in the wrong light, but Faris wasn't trying to ready the man for a beauty pageant and the arm looked usable enough, all aesthetics aside. With that done, he tossed in another Cure for good measure, slinging it at the blood at the back of the monk's head. He wasn't about to go rooting through Douken's hair, so he couldn't be sure if it had worked, but it didn't seem to hurt anything, so Faris left it at that.
"There." Faris put a decisive hand on his hip. "Now don't go getting yourself tossed about again," he said though his stomach churned at the thought. He tried not to linger on the obvious retort. 'This was all my fault.'
He'd almost forgotten about the black mage girl until she spoke, asking questions that Faris couldn't have cared less about at the moment. "A one-eyed...?" he echoed before shaking his head. "Haven't heard a thing. You think I'd remember someone like that." His eyes darkened on the crowd as another round began. This time, a knight had squared off against something that looked like a large, long-whiskered tiger.
"More to the point, we'd best be moving if we don't want things to turn ugly around here. Another minute of their blabber and I'd have been seeing red." Faris glanced at Douken and offered him a mischievous grin. "What do you say we slip out of this lion's den? If they turn on us, you've got my spear, sword, and whatever else the crystals think to give me. I'm itching to teach these dullards a lesson."
