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year 5, quarter 3
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You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
[attr="class","itsover"] "There. I got your dragons. That'll be a thousand gil for the little one, and two thousand for that nasty beast there."
"Two thousand? But that wasn't-!"
"Aye. The fire-eyed fiend about did me in. Two thousand or I'm off the job for good."
And so, with much grumbling, Faris Scherwiz walked out of the town's meeting hall with an eye for the skies and three thousand gil lining his pocket. He ambled down the entrance steps before stopping to count his money. It was all there, sure as he stood, but then he hadn't really doubted. The head of this town was an honorable man, or at least he seemed like it in the light of day. He wasn't the type to cheat mysterious strangers, or at least not ones with a wicked spear and a penchant for monster-slaying. Their negotiations had been colored with a kind of awkward tension. They'd both known that Faris could have skewered him in a second if he'd wanted to.
Of course he didn't want to, and he never would unless it turned out the man had done something vile. But that hardly mattered in feats of intimidation and bravado. The threat itself was enough.
Once satisfied with the money, Faris pocketed it and started down the quiet street towards the fountain square. Small-time monster hunting in a nowhere town wasn't exactly his shot of whiskey, but it was just about the only honest trade he knew, and the people needed help. He'd been on his way to the nearby Metaia Temple when the town's first dragon had bore down from the sky, screeching blood lust with its teeth bared. If Faris hadn't been there, it likely would have torn whole families to shreds then come back for more. Everyone had been very grateful for Faris' spear until he'd started talking money. And then it all went suspiciously quiet.
'I suppose I'm something of a hired sword,' Faris pondered as he held up a coin to the light. He smirked at the thought of it. Him? Taking money for blood? He wondered what Lenna would have thought, but at least he hadn't stolen it. There was an improvement even Lenna could be proud of. And at least he wasn't making a living kidnapping princesses anymore.
Now that was an awkward memory if he'd ever had one. Faris tried to recall if he'd ever apologized for that, but his mind came up blank. Oh well. It was probably for the best that he'd kept his silence on the matter. He wouldn't have known how to phrase the words anyway.
'Sorry about that whole business taking you hostage. Good thing we were long-lost sisters, eh? Between you and me, I'd never've hurt you anyway. Just extorted a fortune out of your father.'
'Our father, I guess. Who was missing. Trying to save the world.'
'Sorry for that.'
Sometime while Faris had been trapped in the meeting hall, the sun had set over the horizon. The sky was basked in a dusky orange. All around, the townspeople had emerged, done with their work for the day no doubt and coming to mingle with each other. Faris wandered to the square and leaned against one of the lamp-posts buzzing with light above him. There wasn't much to do in a place like this. Nothing reckless. Nothing adventurous. There was a bar, of course, but he didn't feel much like drinking alone -- not after what happened in Sonora. The people here sensed his strength and gave him a wide berth as they passed. Maybe they thought he might turn on them. Maybe they were still wary of strangers after that devilish work at the temple.
Either way, they glanced to him fearfully before planting their gaze to the ground. Faris crossed his arms and considered first the sky and then the people around him. He'd never worked well with loneliness. That just wasn't his style, and he felt his heart ache with longing as his eyes set on each stranger in turn.
There was a woman with a harsh mouth and fiery eyes. Maybe Faris could have trained her in a sword if she'd given him the time of day. And there was a boy who looked to him curiously. Faris could have regaled him with tales of another planet -- of travels through space and time and the raging sea -- had his mother not dragged him away by the hand. And there was a man standing in silent contemplation, hair gleaming white in the dim light of dusk as he-
White hair. Faris froze at the sight of it, scraggled and bushy behind him. He tilted his head, squinting to get a closer look, but he couldn't be sure what he'd seen. The man before him seemed ordinary in every way from his rough pants to his collared shirt and casual stance. He seemed absolutely unremarkable except, of course, that he wasn't. Normal people didn't have hair like that -- at least, not in this world they didn't. And Faris swore he'd seen it before.
But it couldn't be...
Faris crept forward, cautious as a cat, as he searched the man for something else. A reminder. A signal that this man -- this completely ordinary man -- was the one he'd been looking for. Faris edged around him and peered closer at the man's face. There he found a hard mouth, a contemplative brow, and eyes that could have chilled the dead.
Faris' heart caught in his throat. It was him.
"You're-..." Faris started, but his mind was too jumbled. He couldn't get the words out, and he wouldn't have known what to say if he could. Instead, he gave a sharp shake of his head and let loose the first thing that came to his mind. "I've been looking high and low for you!" His mouth split into a grin even as his eyes sharpened accusingly. "That white knight! You're as flighty as a wind drake and just about as hard to track." Faris let out a frustrated huff of air before crossing his arms and glancing at the man beside him. He couldn't help a playful smirk.
"I knew I'd find you one of these days. I promised I would, and I'm a man who keeps his word." He tossed his hair over one shoulder before turning to face him. His head tilted curiously.
"So where've you been all this time? I haven't seen heads nor tails of you since that scuffle with Chaos, and I've heard just about as much. Why don't we step inside somewhere warm and chat over a round of drinks? On me. I still owe you that, I think."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Feb 21, 2017 22:15:42 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
And scene end?
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris bit his tongue. A storm was raging behind it, but now was not the time to unleash the tidal waves. Even as Aria spoke, even as he wanted to be happy and to accept her invitation (when had he ever turned down a drink, after all?), his usual grin just couldn't reach his eyes. Something was wrong, either with him or the whole damned place, and he couldn't ignore the tossing of the waves.
Douken was wrong. So very, very wrong. Disastrously wrong and daft at that. Faris wanted to turn on him and yell until his voice was hoarse and his fists were flying. 'I believed in you! I thought you were honorable! I thought you were better than this!'
'I thought you were better than me.'
But he couldn't. Not here and not now when they were all exhausted and covered in blood, surrounded by the bodies of gods knew what. His head buzzed with fatigue. His arms were heavy and his feet protested with every second upright. This had been too much. All of it too much.
And it had all been his fault. What had he been thinking, coming to a place like this? How could he stand to shout at the monk when Faris had brought him here in the first place? What had he even wanted? Why would he have even considered it?
He'd wanted the adrenaline. He'd wanted to laugh and pretend that nothing was wrong. He'd wanted to forget.
His stomach dropped. There were a lot of things he didn't want to think about. So many things...
"You don't need to thank me, lass." His voice came dull -- quiet in a way he wasn't used to. His heart ached like the depths of the sea. "I'll be going on my way, I think. Don't need to stay around here." Faris ruffled the back of his hair. He wanted to leave, to drift away from his problems as easily as if they were towns on a coastline. That was all he knew. Keep going. Look ahead. Don't ever fall behind.
He glanced at Douken -- at the poor, mangled monk he'd dragged into his own crazed schemes. He hadn't been as noble as he'd said, but who was really? Faris could hardly judge. He was the worst hero the crystals could have picked and hadn't ever known the meaning of honor. Faris gave the monk a sheepish grin. "If you're needing anything..." he said then paused and looked away. "Aye. I'll have a way of being found." He closed his eyes.
Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.
"Well, I'll be off then." He hardly looked at them. Just the sight made his stomach twist. "The best of luck to you."
Faris left then without another thought or another look back. He didn't want to see the people he'd hurt or the mess he'd made. He didn't want to think about what had driven him to it or when it would drive him to it again. He didn't want to think of his own impulses and he didn't want to think of home.
A storm was brewing in his heart -- dark and ominous. And as he left the gates of that unfamiliar town, he felt the first splatters of rain touch at his cheeks.
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Feb 21, 2017 7:21:31 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Faris is displeased
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
It was over in a crash of metal, a crack of ice, and a rush of blood.
It all happened almost too fast for Faris to see, at least when he had his hands full of harp strings and his tongue occupied with a song. Douken rushed forward to meet the blade. Faris almost called out to him, but it was too late. The man raised his arms in a fighting stance, squared off against the blade...
And punched it.
Faris would have liked to call out to him. He would have cursed in every language known to man. He would have called the monk a empty-headed idiot with the brains of a sagahin and the brass to boot, but he couldn't -- not with the song on his tongue. Instead, he could only watch in musical horror as the man's bone's snapped, his muscle burst in bloody seams, and the skin twisted. Then Faris noticed the rain of metal shards showering around him.
It had worked. Somehow, it had actually worked.
He was still an idiot though, albeit an idiot with one less arm. Faris looked desperately to Aria to make certain that she had the situation under control. Thankfully, he was not disappointed.
The mage crackled with energy. The light around her grew still and then pulsed with power. She gave a short battle cry before raising her staff and letting it all loose at once. Faris had never seen anything like it.
The air around the giant chilled and then it burst with the power of a small explosion contained by a the glacier that had formed around it. Faris' words lagged. His fingers slowed. Whatever the mage had done, it was like no magic he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. Apparently his song hadn't been worthless after all. The giant froze, gave one final cry, and then burst into a thousand pieces of flying shrapnel. Faris let out a startled noise and moved to sidestep the debris. It rained down across his arms, shoulders, and one exposed cheek. He winced at the sharp cuts and touched at the blood, but it was no harm done really. The fight was done. The field was overtaken by silence.
Faris let out a long, low breath. Whatever had just happened, it was over.
The forest smelled of blood. Bodies were littered all around them, splattered in blue jelly and still sparking with magic. His eyes wandered from Aria -- who had fallen to her knees, barely able to keep herself upright -- to Douken. His arm was a mess. Bleeding, busted, and gory. Faris' eyes lit with fury. He hadn't given up his dignity just so the monk could get himself killed.
He was moving before he'd completed the thought. His mouth was a hard line of furious disapproval. It was a leader's look. A captain's look. It had brought a shudder to many a man tougher than Douken.
"What did you think you were doing out there? Throwing yourself in its path? Punching a sword? Have you got something to prove or is your head full of air? That mage had it handled and now you're left with nothing but a busted arm!" Faris let out a slew of curses at the sight of it. It was busted, alright, or more accurately mangled. If Faris had all the magic in the world, he might have set it straight, but of course he didn't. He'd wasted it all on a summon rather than imagine that the monk had the survival instincts of a beached whale. His eyebrows furrowed. "Well, come on then. You'll need to get to town if you want that mended. After a rest, I'll have a go at healing it myself, but it won't be pretty and it'll hurt." He crossed his arms decisively. "And you'll deserve it. Every second of it."
As the last man standing, Faris wandered over to examine the exhausted mage. As far as he could tell, she had no real injuries -- just magical fatigue. He let out a breath of relief. "And you. You saved our lives out there. I owe you a debt or at least an arm to lean on getting back to town. You need me, let me know. I'll come running faster than the winds of a typhoon." He offered the woman a hand to steady her and get her back on her feet.
Somehow, miraculously, it had all worked out in the end. Even if Faris couldn't say exactly what had just happened, and he wasn't going to try.
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Feb 6, 2017 22:40:55 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
I've got a song in my heart, and it's telling the giant to die.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Something changed about the giant, but Faris couldn't really tell what it was. Something about the color of it, maybe. Probably some kind of buff from the looks of it. He couldn't hear what it was saying either, in that odd, rusty tone that it had. But to be honest, Faris didn't really care. Not when his temples pounded like a hangover.
Now what Faris did care about was the next word out of the mage's mouth: "Chaos."
"What?"Faris snapped to attention, all thoughts of his headache gone. "You know Chaos?" But they didn't have time to discuss it. The woman didn't even get the chance to answer his question before she was already taking point. Even as a mage, she had a fire in her that Faris couldn't help but admire. It was worth listening to at any rate, and if she wanted something done, he wasn't about to argue over the details.
"Douken, aim for it's legs, if we manage to sweep it's feet out from under it, we may manage to get a few easy hits!" She pointed towards the great beast, magic already sparking at her fingers. "Faris, do you have anything that could power up my magic? I believe this magic devouring creature is going to get a stomach ache!"
Faris blinked at her. "Anything that could...?" He cursed himself for using the last of his magic on the guards. If the woman needed aid, he wasn't about to do it with a spear. He rubbed at his temples, trying for the life of him to muster the magic she needed, but it did about as much good as paling out a sinking ship. He wouldn't be casting any spells for a while to come. "And how, by the devil, am I supposed to do that?"
She was already too busy with a great lash of fire to answer him. It launched towards the giant's leg like a spear, recoiling on contact and leaving the metal a sharp and glowering orange. Faris winced at the heat. 'Think. They need you now, think! What could boost her skills without magic?'
The thought came to him like something out of a schoolyard nightmare. There were only a few ways to strengthen a mage's skill. There were spells, summons, and items, but all of those were off the table considering his condition. No, if he wanted to fulfill her request, Faris had only one option.
He would have to sing.
"Oh damn it all!" Faris shoved an irritably hand through his hair, teeth gritted in disgust. 'It could still be worse,' he tried to tell himself. 'At least you're not dancing.'
"Aye! Cover me, Douken!" Faris took a few steps forward, close enough to keep the mage in range, but far enough that two skilled fighters stood between him and the giant's sword. He took a steadying breath and called on the crystal once more. The fire crystal, this time. The one that had chosen him for whatever reasons. He cursed it.
"Come on," he muttered as the light flashed over him again. This time, his summoner's robes shortened and the horn shrank back to his usual bandanna. All in all, it wasn't so different from his casual tunic except that this one was a drab and unremarkable green. In his hand materialized his least favorite of the sacred weapons: Apollo's Harp.
He took it in his hands, stared at it in horror, then closed his eyes and let the crystal guide his fingers.
Music pricked from the strings like raindrops. It was a somber, lilting tune that calmed the mind and strengthened the spirit. Before he knew what he was doing, Faris had raised his voice to join it. The words came to him as though he'd known them long ago in memories lost to him in the raging sea. Mana's Paean. A song of ancient times to invigorate an aspiring mage and strengthen their magic threefold.
And so, as Faris faced down a two-story giant with nothing but a harp and a song, he entrusted that his allies would finish the job that the mage had started. And that, by the gods, they'd appreciate the sacrifices he made for them.
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Jan 31, 2017 10:33:11 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Don't worry. He won't go OP and summon anything else. =3
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Why did this always happen to him?
Once, a long time ago, Faris hadn't had anything more to worry about than a boat full of thieves and the pull of the wind on his sails. Back then, he'd had his share of action, but there'd been a kind of sense to them. If he'd wanted a boat, he'd fight to take it for himself. If someone cornered him in the back of a dingy bar, he'd brawl to show what happened to anyone who messed with him. It had followed certain rules that he made and could understand.
There'd been no evil warlocks, no comets flying to other worlds, no trees of lost souls. And there definitely hadn't been any sentient piles of goop somehow disguised as men.
"Augh!" Faris recoiled from the spray of blue jelly that showered from Douken's fist. The goo jiggled where it landed on the ground like gelatinous rain, and Faris dodged back to keep from touching it. Douken's victim wobbled on its back legs, head gone, neck oozing jelly like blood. For a long time, Faris could only stare at it, mouth slack and uncomprehending.
"You caved his head in," Faris muttered before cursing and rounding on Douken, fists tight. "You feeble-hearted, thick-headed murderer!" The crystal surged with his fury, and he felt his fists raise to the monk, even as their enemies surrounded them, even as the giant approached. The monk had talked time and time again of things like honor and mercy, and yet that's all it had been. Talk. "You can't just go punching men's heads off, you-!"
There was a crack of magic, and Faris dodged backwards with a rough "oof" as lightning pierced the place his arm had been only half a second before. It had come from the headless man, or more accurately, from the goo gushing from its ragged neck stump. Faris eyed it and cursed loudly.
This was, bar none, the stupidest situation Faris had ever gotten himself into.
"If that thing's made of jelly, then punching it'll do about as much good as picking fistfights with the sea!" He dodged back again, hopping anxiously on his heels as the goo overtook the headless man and formed around it -- two gelatinous eyes and a sticky mouth. Behind him, the ground cracked as the giant swung its sword, missed, and cleaved the ground in two. Faris glanced between them, begging for ideas to fire as rapidly as the curses from his lips.
'A red mage? Not strong enough, and we've got Aria for that.'
'A time mage? That'll stop them, but then what?'
'A blue mage? Ha! Maybe if I'd ever put a minute of time into it.'
He doubted either the jelly or the giant would care for a song and dance. As a geomancer, he might swallow them into the earth, but he just as easily might swallow his party or shower them in pebbles. 'Think! You've got the crystals, you dullard, now use them!'
There was another crack and another shot of lightning bolted past Faris' arm. He glanced from the first pile of jelly (its body had dissolved), to the other guards still approaching and now oozing blue from their mouths and eye sockets. Each of them sparked with electricity, their swords long left behind.
'They only use magic.'
Behind him, the giant creaked as it raised its sword for another swing. They didn't have time for this.
No time. Just like with Chaos. There'd been a slew of magic then too. Too much of it. Enough to send it all flying back when he'd changed classes to the summoner and-
Faris' eyes widened. "Leave the guards be!" he shouted and dashed out of the giant's range. The guards' attention followed him, eyes blank and leaking blue. As Faris ran, he called again on the power of the crystals. 'Water crystal, help me!' He felt its cool glow washing over him in waves. His fighter's gi cascaded into flowing white robes. His bandana elongated into a cone stuck firmly to his forehead. By the time he'd stumbled to a stop, he felt the power of summons coursing through him. He turned to the guards and grinned. "Learn some new tricks or it'll be the end of you!" he cried before bringing his hands together and muttering the ancient rites of the summoners.
The words came like a river current, building with every click of his tongue. As the power surged through him, Faris gave the guards a devlish grin and cried, "Carbuncle!"
The furry, cat-like creature hopped from the void and landed nimbly on its feet. It let out a muted cry and lights burst from it in waves. Faris felt the warmth of that light seep into his skin, and then the summon was gone. A look at the other fighters showed that they, too, had gained a faint orange glow. Faris sighed in relief before touching at his head.
His temples pounded. He'd used too much magic. He wouldn't be trying that again anytime soon.
There was another crack of magic, and Faris didn't bother to dodge this time. It struck him head-on, but he hardly felt more than a pinprick before it had barreled back in its caster's direction. He heard the sizzle of burning jelly and then a thump as one of the guards collapsed. "That'll take care of it," Faris muttered before shaking his head clear and looking up to the giant.
It staggered forward with heavy, pounding steps. They had bigger things to worry about.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
[attr="class","itsover"] Faris nearly groaned as Eillien touched his arm. He didn't want this -- not now and not here. Maybe at another time in another place, on some daring adventure with the thrill of the fight pumping through him as loudly as his laughter. Maybe then he'd take her by the arm, spout some cool line, and relish in her touch. But that time wasn't now and that place wasn't here. Now he wanted nothing more than for the room to stop spinning and then to sleep.
She told him that she didn't know what he was supposed to do. Well, that wasn't a surprise. How could she when he could barely get his thoughts straight himself? He hadn't been looking for an answer. Not really.
Above him, the ceiling's ventilation rattled unnervingly. Below him, the bed smelled of soap and cinnamon. He longed for the creak of old floorboards and the subtle tilt of the waves. Maybe then his stomach would stop lurching to compensate.
"Faris, you're not alone," she said.
"You have someone in front of you right now."
"We fight on."
His throat caught and then he was laughing. She sounded exactly like Bartz.
"Aye," he said. "We fight on. Always have, always will."
'Stupid. Why'd I ever get to sulking like this?' he thought glumly. 'Maybe I needed an idiot like him to keep me going. Nothing ever comes from going it alone. Nothing good, anyway.'
Still, he should have known better. Faris had always taken his problems head on with a laugh and a spear. He wasn't one to skulk around complaining, but he guessed that only went to show what loneliness could do to a person. It had even broken him for a night, and that was saying something.
He wanted something to fight and someone to fight it with. He wanted to find that knight again and let those righteous words spur him to action. He wanted a challenge, and he wanted to battle it with friends.
Goddamn it, he wanted Bartz. Faris tilted back his head and groaned. He really had hit rock bottom, hadn't he?
"Sorry, lass," he muttered into his arm. "Seems I'm a mess tonight, and a bit daft at that. A good night's sleep and I'll be ready for a fight tomorrow."
He hoped. There wasn't anything to say his mood wouldn't keep storming like this until the end of his days, but he had a good idea. The Faris he knew wouldn't let something like loneliness keep him down. The Faris he knew would storm out of this dismal inn and fight back against the world and himself alike -- whichever got in his way. Tomorrow, he'd throw himself fists first into the action. Tomorrow, he'd start his search again. If not for Chaos, then for the only one he knew would share his convictions.
The white knight. Out of everyone he'd met in this strange land, that knight was the one he longed for most.
"Think I'll take you up on that offer, if you don't mind. I could use the rest." Faris let out a tired sigh and pulled himself fully onto the bed. After a few fumbled attempts, he managed to kick his boots off the edge, grunting faintly as they each clattered to the ground in turn. "You don't have to let me hog the bed, lass. I don't need the help that much." He rolled over onto his side, half curled up with an arm beneath his head. His eyes were already dragging closed.
"You're a good friend, Eillien," he said, then yawned, shifted, and muttered. "Thanks."
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
[attr="class","itsover"] Eillien called him back. Maybe Faris knew that she would. Maybe that's why he wasn't surprised.
"You're not taking up my time," she said and, "You're a comrade in the crystal." His mind swam at that. His last comrade's in the crystal hadn't been anything like this. Just an idiot, a little girl, and his sister. His heart ached for them.
“Faris, you look like you could use this more than I can right now. Use it and get some rest alright?”
Faris didn't ask what "this" was. He didn't ask what he was supposed to be using because the words rang hollow and he didn't think he could be bothered. When Eillien touched his arm and guided him away from the door, he didn't care to stop her. Where else did he have to go? It was a snowstorm outside, and he didn't have any plans that didn't involve sulking.
'This is a bad idea,' he thought as she led him up the stairs and into the warmth of a rented room. 'This is a bad idea,' he thought again as she steered him to the bed and he fell back numbly. But the blankets were warm, the pillows soft, and the sheets smelled like cinnamon.
'I'm a mess of bad ideas, what's one more?'
"Faris." Eillien had knelt beside him. She leaned against the bedframe and considered the ceiling. "I understand better than you can imagine. My crystals gave me a gift quite different than yours. Mine allows me to… see memories and experience the events first hand."
The words came to Faris as though slogging through tar. She could understand him. The crystals gave her a gift. She could...see memories?
Faris sat straight up, eyes wide. "Wait, you're reading my mind?!" He stared at her like some new breed of monster or an open Rift in the floor. That was one of the craziest thing he'd ever heard, but who was he to judge crazy? He'd seen comets that traveled through space, trees made of soul sludge, and rifts to the void. Mind-reading wasn't exactly off the table.
"Now just relax and don't worry anymore," she'd said, but that wasn't something Faris could do when his mind was compromised. His cheeks burned with the sudden twist of his stomach. 'What had she seen?'
"Ah, no. Think I'll be going. Shouldn't stay. You know." Faris launched himself from the bed only to immediately lose balance and topple right back over. He groaned as his head hit the sheets.
'This is a bad idea.'
"Why do I always mess up?" The ceiling wasn't spinning, but it wasn't still either. It swam in front of him like the waves of the sea. What he wouldn't give for a stable ship.
"I lost the monk and Chaos and that white knight," he said, "I can't find my friends or my crew or home." His heart wrenched at that word. He didn't know what it meant. The sea? His friends? Tycoon? He would have sailed the world around for any of them.
"What'm I supposed to do?" His cheek fell against the bedsheets. He closed his eyes. "The crystals won't tell me anything."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Jan 24, 2017 14:55:30 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
This was both fun and painfully stupid. xD I love it.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
As soon as Faris' fists met flesh, he remembered why he tended to avoid street brawls like this anymore. Another lifetime ago, this three-on-fifty fight would have been the thing of legends. His name would have been whispered under awed breaths for years to come -- 'Have you heard about that pirate who knocked together a dozen heads at once? I swear it's true!' Back then, Faris had marveled at the brute strength of butting heads and at the rush of adrenaline when he met an ill-meaning eye.
That had all changed after his fated journey to the Wind Shrine. As a Warrior of Light, he'd battled towering, three-story beasts and ethereal phantoms torn from the Rift itself. A mob of street thugs just didn't stand a chance.
Faris tried to count the enemies that fell to his unarmed hands. He really did. But it was a lot easier said than done given the swarming men, flying fists, and waves of unkempt magic. He quickly lost track of Douken, and it was all he could do to try to keep the black mage nearby and defended when he could barely see for the movement and blood.
He didn't need to worry much. It was over in minutes.
"Well that was hardly worth the trouble," Faris said once the last body fell. Douken and the black mage were easy to find then. They were the only other two left standing. "They had the brains of a fruit fly and about the strength to match." Faris looked back to make sure the black mage didn't need a healing spell before carefully stepping through the field of broken limbs and groaning, half-conscious bodies. "I'd like to see them try to make you fight something now. 'Punishment round.' Hmph. That's the daftest thing I've ever heard." Faris stopped at Douken's side and crossed his arms decisively. "So, how about we get out of here and go-?"
The ground trembled.
"Eh?" Faris tensed and scanned the battlefield. There was nothing upright but them. "Did you hear tha-ah!" The earth wrenched out from under him with a thunderous clap and he pitched forward, barely able to catch his balance before his palms scraped the ground. A string of curses spewed from his tongue as he touched his bleeding hands and searched desperately for their distant attacker.
He hadn't thought to look up.
"Finally, after all of these years, it seems we've found someone worthy of our ultimate power! Finally, our champions have arrived to test the results of our labors. Bring in the proto-giant!"
"What?!" Faris stared at the shadowy outcropping above the make-shift fighting arena. There was movement above, but he couldn't make out a face to the insane rambling that came with it. "No. I've changed my mind. That is the daftest thing I've ever heard!" He staggered to his feet without taking his eyes of the shadows. "Did someone slip something into my drink? Because that's about as nutty as-!"
His words were cut off to a hideous screech of broken metal. Far in the forest, someone screamed. Faris took a cautious step back. There was a smash, the long whine of creaking wood, and a thunderous crash. The ground trembled with a rhythmic beat. Footsteps.
"Proto-giant..." Faris muttered to himself. "What in the name of the gods is a-?"
The trees before them burst into splinters. Faris raised an arm to shelter his eyes, and when he lowered it, his question was answered.
A proto-giant was a suit of armor about the size of a behemoth wielding a sword the size of a ship's mast. And it did not look friendly.
"Aye." Faris adjusted his stance and brought his fists before him. He glanced first at Douken and then at the black mage. "I'm changing the wager. If we all live through this, we'll travel together a while longer." He offered Douken a sly half-grin. "Let's give it a fight the crystals can be proud of. Show me what those punches can do."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Jan 13, 2017 8:08:18 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken , @ariacanus
Whooo! Fighting!
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Douken didn't have the temperament for a brawl. Faris half-expected to resist the idea of revolt, but then he noticed the man's smile. “Didn’t you drag me here to see my punch?” he said. Faris blinked in surprise and then slowly nodded, matching the monk's determination with a much wider grin of his own.
"Aye, and I've yet to see the full strength of it," he said before Douken continued. The monk mentioned that his fight hadn't felt right. That the turtle (whatever it had been) had felt weaker than it should have, and he wasn't wrong. With a bite like that, the monster should have torn the monk's limb clean in two, but it had only left a bruise fixed by a single Cura. The monk asked if Faris' own fight had felt like that, and Faris had to think before answering. "Hm. That's a hard one," he said slowly, squinting up to the sky. "My spear would've ripped through any dragon's wings -- not a thing to it. It might've been. Or it might've not. It never got more than a snarl in otherwise."
Douken nodded and, to Faris' surprise, turned to the mage girl. Faris smirked at the mention of his own rage and readiness to 'raise hell.' "Damn right, I am," he muttered under his breath. The monk continued, making his intentions clear and offering the girl an invitation. “Besides, I can’t get out of here without causing a commotion anyways." His smile turned sour. “As he said, ‘No exceptions.’”
Faris laughed bitterly. "Well, we'll show these dullards a thing or two. If they're daft enough to think they can hold us in, then they deserve the hell we're bringing them." His stance changed. Faris pulled the red mage's sword from its sheathe, but frowned at the weight of it. It didn't feel right. There was nothing wrong with it, certainly, and the red mage class wasn't a terrible choice. But it was too balanced -- too clean. He needed something more aggressive. Something more abrasive. Something...
Faris looked to Douken, grinning like the devil himself. "Care if I join you?" he asked, and in a flash the wind crystal had enveloped him. The light burned from head to toe, ripping off armor, headgear, and swords in exchange for muscles and reflexes. In seconds, Faris felt lighter than he had in years. He hopped from one sandaled foot to the other, marveling at the speed of his white gi and bandanna. He tested a few punches at the air then glanced at Douken. "Want to make a wager?" he said, "If I can knock more heads together here, then you've got to travel with me a while longer." He threw back his loose hair. "I figure I've got a decent shot."
Faris wanted to banter a little longer, but he was interrupted by a sudden roar. A glance in the pit showed the fight wasn't going well, and a scream told him that the poor fighter wouldn't last much longer. Faris' eyebrows furrowed. "Is no one gonna help him?" he muttered, glancing over to see that the crowd was jeering. His eyes narrowed. "Well, we'll just have to do it ourselves!" He started towards the ring.
The air cooled. The wind quickened. There was a crack and a shard of ice fell from the sky, skewering the beast like a spear thrown by Shiva herself. Faris froze, staring at the carnage before him, unable to make sense of it all. At first, he thought that the ringmaster had interfered again, but a glance showed that the shadowy coward was as shocked as he was. Faris glanced to the crowd to Douken and then finally turned to the mage.
She was on her feet, hands buzzing with magic. For the first time since he'd seen her, her eyes were ablaze. "Who's next?"
For a full second, Faris could only blink at her. Then he tilted back his head and let loose a fierce laugh. "Now that's what we need!" he cried. He glanced at Douken. "Remember our bet. I'm still waiting on that wager." His grin widened as he dashed ahead. A few bulky fighters had awakened from the shock and started towards Aria at a sprint. Faris met them before they could cross half the distance.
Faris' fists seemed to move on their own, jabbing in punches almost faster than the eye could see. He pummeled the first fighter four times in the chest, dodged another's sword and then dove in to deliver a swift uppercut to his attacker's stomach. They fell to the ground as Faris whipped around to face the third fighter who had suddenly gone still. Their eyes met.
"That woman's got a fire in her. If you want to throw shots at her, you'll have to go through me!"
The man hesitantly raised his sword. All around, more fighters rose, a whole swarm of them armed and ready to fight. The man in front glanced at his followers, and then straightened as though emboldened. "You can't take all of us!" he cried. Faris' eyes glinted darkly.
"Aye, I've heard that before," he said. "But I've got a bet to win."
To make his point, he dodged forward and punched the man clean in the jaw.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
[attr="class","itsover"] The woman touched his shoulder. Her eyes softened.
He wasn't sure what she said, really. It was the usual, rambling Eillien way of speaking. She agreed that she missed people too. That she was also lost. She told him that she was here to help people that she didn't know. It felt familiar, like he'd heard it too many times before, but he didn't know why. They'd only met once, after all. It was like he'd seen her somewhere swimming in the back of his mind. Like she'd been a phantom or maybe a dream.
Faris' eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't make sense of it.
“Yet as you say. We can only hope that they are fine," Eillien went on, "Hope they handle themselves as well as we know them to be able to do…” She pulled her hand away as she finished, and Faris couldn't help but feel grateful for it. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He didn't have to worry about it anymore.
"Aye..." he said slowly. His head wasn't spinning yet, but his tongue felt a bit heavy. His thoughts, sluggish. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Why did the woman beside him feel so familiar? Like it had been weeks since their last meeting instead of months? Why did he almost expect her ramblings? And why did his chest burn with frustration when he thought of them?
He'd seen it before. Sharp, black edges framed in white light.
"I must've dreamed about you," he muttered. "One hell of a dream." He rubbed his forehead and tried to put his heart at ease. Why did his blood fill with apprehension at the thought of it? His crystal flickered apprehensively.
Drinking was dangerous in his state of mind. When he was more prone to thought than action. He didn't like it, but it would only get worse. He'd already made sure of that.
"I should go," he said, standing more suddenly than he should have. He swayed before catching his balance on the table. "Don't want to take up your time." He turned away, tongue sluggish, mind tilting like a ship in a storm. Hazy pictures pounded in the back of his memory. "Sorry about that."
