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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Faris Scherwiz on Sept 13, 2016 10:40:02 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken
Faris is a sad pirate
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
"Eh?"
Faris wasn't an expert on a lot of things -- politics, wealth, anything with fancy dresses -- but he knew a slander when he heard it, even if it was a rather strange one. And "I'll pay for your drinks but you're getting what I order" was rather odd indeed. On the one hand, free liquor. On the other, Faris wasn't quite sure what the man was implying. Was buying him a drink an act of spite? Did he not think Faris could handle anything else? The thought made Faris bristle with indignation. Sure, he was smaller than most, shorter than most, and maybe he couldn't grow a proper beard, but Faris didn't need any of that to prove himself a man. It was all in the walk, the way he held himself, and the skill of his sword. Or spear. Or ninja stars, if he felt like mixing it up.
Still. He couldn't say no to a free drink. And didn't it sound a little like the man wanted his company? If Faris had been a woman, he would have thought this to be the man's fumbled pick-up line. Then again, he supposed he couldn't write off the possibility just because he wasn't in a dress. Some men were into that, he supposed.
His choice was made for him by the snickering bartender. Apparently the man's request had amused him enough to repeal Faris' ban. Either that, or the bartender didn't think Faris could do much damage on whatever he would bring him. As the bartender hustled off to pour his mystery cocktail, Faris gave a long sigh and slid onto the stool next to the red-clad man.
"Well, it'll be better than nothing," he said with his cheek rather gloomily held in his hand. He glanced at the man beside him again. The man was a wall of muscle -- all bulk with the ligaments shifting every time he moved. That kind of body toning took serious discipline, and Faris supposed he could respect that if nothing else. With his loose pants, brown sash, and open shirt, he looked a bit like Bartz in the Monk class whenever the boy cared to use it. Faris tilted his head a little in interest. "So you. You're not from around here, are you?" Faris gave a bitter smile. "I know how it goes now. If a lad looks like he's got an ounce of sense in him, then he's from somewhere else. Woke up here, did you? Can't remember a thing? Head like a cupboard full of cobwebs?" Faris laughed. "What's your story? I sailed in from the east side of Tycoon, not that that'll mean much to you. The name's Faris. Captain Faris Scherwiz, if a title be important to you."
Faris was about to ask what brought the stranger to Provo when the bartender shoved a glass his way. Faris' easy smile fell instantly. In front of him in the daintiest glass he'd ever laid eyes on was some orange concoction swimming with a shot of red and with some kind of citrus fruit hanging off the side. Faris eyed it distrustfully. "What in the seven seas is this nonsense?"
"A tequila sunrise," the bartender answered. Faris thought that over carefully.
"Tequila?" he echoed. He cautiously picked up the glass and brought it to his lips. After a moment, he recoiled and shoved it back onto the counter. "It's sweet!"he said accusingly, "How am I supposed to get drunk off of this?"
The bartender said nothing and went on to serve an old man down the row. Faris moodily watched a cherry bob in the ungodly concoction. "A waste of good tequila..." he muttered as he sank against the counter. It was a shame, really. Just a damn shame.
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Sept 12, 2016 20:13:52 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@douken
This bar has had enough of Faris
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The sun hadn't set when Faris barged through the bar's double doors. All at once, he was hit by a wave of wet fragrances -- booze, sweat, the heavy odors of oak wood. He took in a deep breath as those scents hit him. 'Almost like home,' he thought as he swaggered down the cluttered aisles towards the bartender. 'Like a room full of pirates.' Of course, the floor didn't creak beneath his step and his feet didn't sway on the rocking of the ocean swells. Familiar faces didn't greet him with fear and respect. He didn't bark orders at those passing by, and there was no adventure to be had. No, there was only a half-empty room of sad drunks wasting their lives away in a sad establishment like this. Faris belonged here.
He slid onto a sticky bar stool and waited, cheek resting on his palm and fingers tapping on the counter as the bartender dealt with another customer. Faris eyed the shelf while he waited -- whiskey, rum, vodka, tequila. At this point, Faris would have taken the lot if his wallet had allowed it. As it was, he could only manage to scrape by doing odd jobs killing monsters and scouting the haunted forest. He'd have a few drinks, he decided, then that was it. He had to save for a chocobo if he ever wanted to leave this forsaken town.
The bartender turned to Faris then stopped. The man's eyes caught on Faris' distinctive purple hair then on his blue tunic and scarf. A look of resignation passed his face before he approached. "You're back," the man said in a way that suggested very much that he wished Faris hadn't come. Faris smiled wryly.
"Of course I'm back. You've got the only decent booze in town."
The man visibly repressed a groan. "I thought we told you to leave."
"That? Sounded more like a suggestion to me." Faris traced his finger along a vein in the wooded counter-top. "Now why don't you pour me a double shot of whiskey. I'll pay upfront, you have a sailor's promise."
The bartender gave him a hard look. "It took three men to move you," he said. "You yelled at everyone about that monster in Torensten then passed out drunk on the floor."
"Well I did fight that fiend," Faris muttered, but he didn't get in another word before the bartender continued.
"You disturbed our customers."
"If something like that can disturb them then they're as yellow as they are daft," Faris said, but he could tell form the man's look that it got him nowhere. "I swear, I wasn't drunk at all! It was the crystals that did it! And some lass in white!"
"You starting shouting about monsters, tried to walk out on your drinks, flashed white, then passed out and concussed yourself," the man said. "We're not serving you."
Faris' eyebrows furrowed. "Fine then, if that's how you'll be about it." He hopped up off the bar stool and pushed back his straggly hair. "There are other bars around. I could get a drink anywhere," he said, although he'd tried everywhere and it just hadn't been the same. "I don't need this place -- never did!" he announced louder, but his heart wasn't in it. His eyes wandered down the bar counter until he found something he could almost call normal. There, at the end of the bar, was a man with scraggly hear, a simple red uniform, and knuckles so calloused he must have spent his days punching logs. Faris blinked at his leather hand-guards and open shirt. He could have sworn he'd seen this man before, but he couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was just that sense of familiarity he got whenever he saw someone else who didn't quite belong.
Faris seized on the opportunity.
"Hey, you there! You can still by a drink in this place. I'll pay you to buy me a pint and pay you more if you get me something stiffer." Faris grinned at the man who didn't fit in. "From one lad lost in this world to another?"
I didn't have time to edit yet, but oh well. FARIS IS MAD
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Some might have thought challenging a self-proclaimed Goddess to be a fool's game, but if it was, then Faris would gladly call himself a fool before he stood back and accepted the drivel this woman had fed them all. If she was a Goddess, then perhaps she would smite him for his pride and perhaps he'd deserve it with the feral grin he gave her now. Still, Faris would regret nothing while he still stood on his own two feet and while he still called himself his own man. He regretted it all the less in the face of the Warrior's small smile of appreciation. Faris would be damned before he let that man down -- and if it meant standing in the way of gods, then so be it.
All in all, Faris would have expected a lot from a Goddess defied. He'd expected fire and brimstone, lightning and tidal waves, or maybe to just explode where he stood like a popped balloon. What he did not expect was the look of sadness she gave them. "You doubt me, but that doubt is well-deserved." Faris felt his eyebrow raise in disbelief. It wasn't exactly the work of vengeance he'd expected, but at least she promised answers...
Or not, as it turned out. No, the chosen weapon of this Goddess appeared to be petty disregard. Once again, she spoke words that only the Warrior could possibly understand. Once again, she looked at the Warrior with those watery eyes of hers and called him out by name (or title, at least. Faris still didn't know his name). Faris' concerns, and in fact, everyone else's concerns had all gone completely and utterly ignored.
The storm behind Faris' tongue strengthened to gale winds. "Aye, well I'm glad you're making sense then," he muttered because he hadn't tempted fate enough. His hands curled into fists at the restraint it took not to charge forth, shouting his frustrations from here to every corner of the sea.
He had never understood the pettiness of women.
If this was a dream, then it was one of the worst he'd ever had, and that included the one where he'd shown up at the captain's wheel in the nude. If he was dead, well, Faris couldn't think of a better punishment for a stubborn will like himself than to be at the mercy of a power so fickle as this. Faris kept from further confrontation by considered a strange cloud of light to the woman's left. He watched it flicker and shake like a candle's flame and tried very hard not to dwell on the absurdity of the whole situation.
Then she brought up Chaos.
Faris tensed at that name.
"... He is beyond all of us, and, to challenge him directly again would mean the deaths of everyone. Had it not been for the specific warriors that faced him in that city, I fear that more lives would have been lost." She lowered her hands sadly as though those warriors were some great enigma. As though two of them weren't standing right in front of her. Faris' eyes flared.
"Aye, and we'd do it again!" Faris cried, just to call her her out. Just to give himself a moment of defiant recognition. Even when she spoke of something he'd done, even as she praised what would have been lost without his actions, she still hadn't addressed him by name. She still hadn't even looked at him, not like she had with the Warrior, and if Faris had to listen to one more second of this pretentious, holier-than-thou sadness, he thought he might test the sharpness of his sword.
"I am not your Goddess. I am not... a Goddess. Not here. Instead, I... pray to each of you."
'Aye. You pray we won't turn against you, you thankless, yellow-bellied...'
"You may be compelled to seek out Chaos, but... I doubt he even knows this much of this world..."
"A good thing I'm not seeking him for his thoughts then, isn't it?" Faris snapped, fangs bared. Predictably, the woman wasn't looking at him. In fact, she'd turned her back entirely to consider some strange looking tower on the horizon of their personal Hell.
"I am not asking you to trust me. Especially you, Warrior," she said, as though she hadn't been speaking to him this entire time. "But if you wish to know who you are... who you really are... You must fight for this world. Fight with all of your resolve. All of you, everyone who can hear me, fight for your lives... Survive."
"Well, it wasn't like I was about to lay down and give up," Faris muttered with a cocky toss of his hair. Maybe he would have gone on about how all ever did was fight, and that telling someone to survive was just about the most pointless advice to give. Maybe he would have further vented his frustrations if a quiet voice beside him hadn't rendered him speechless.
"You were supposed to tell me who I really am. You kept that from me."
The Warrior. Faris had never seen a man so affected. His eyes were narrowed, his fists balled, his breath shaken. Looking at him, Faris might not have recognized him as the noble, stoic knight he'd once fought alongside. The knight had faced down that yellow demon with hardly a change of expression. He'd looked upon all its carnage with only the most reserved of sadness. Honestly, Faris hadn't thought him capable of much emotion, but this woman had somehow managed something that an eight-story god of destruction hadn't. She had shaken this man to his very core.
"Kept from you? Who you really...?" Faris replayed the last few seconds in his head. 'If you wish to know who you are.' 'You were supposed to tell me.' 'You kept that from me.'
"You don't remember yourself." Faris blinked in realization. "You've got amnesia."
And suddenly, it all made sense. The Warrior's hostility. The woman's sadness. All this talk of pawns. Faris thought of Galuf, and how clueless he'd been when they'd met. He'd seemed a fool with all his confusion and questions. The man had hardly remembered his own name, and it had nearly turned him into a child. If someone of a lesser nature than Bartz had stumbled across him, it wasn't a stretch to think Galuf might have changed for the worse. If a less-than-honest party had offered the man answers...
Well, it wasn't out of the question that he'd have done anything to get them.
"She used you." Faris' eyebrows furrowed. A fire had lit in his chest, and suddenly his eyes were blazing. "That slimy, scheming bi-"
"Show us one of these gates." Faris started at the Warrior's voice. He must have lost track of the conversation, because he had no idea what he was talking about. “We shall all decide, individually, whether or not to investigate these sites. Each person may choose their own destiny.”
For not the first time, Faris' heart burned with loyalty for the man beside him. He didn't know what he meant by gates or investigating, but Faris knew that the Warrior had taken control of the conversation, and that he cared deeply that they all get an equal say in the matter. "Aye, what the knight said," Faris agreed, though he couldn't have cared less about whatever they were talking about. He wanted only to show his support to the man for standing up to the vile witch. No matter what, Faris would stand behind him.
The woman didn't say anything, but she must have agreed because the space before them changed again just as the Warrior had asked. The lights dimmed ominously, the ground beneath them grayed, and suddenly the whole dreamscape didn't look quite so peaceful anymore. There were torches, dirt and uneven cobblestone paths, and looming before them was a gate. Or at least, Faris thought it was a gate. Honestly, with its strange dark aura, it could have been anything, though Faris didn't want to say so. Instead, he just bit his thumb and made a strained kind of humming noise, as though deeply pondering the mystery of what they were seeing.
In all reality, he had no idea what to make of any of it.
Thankfully, the Warrior seemed to have a better idea. “Whether or not any of you decide to investigate these points of interest is entirely up to you. However, you must be aware of the danger, and of the darkness that lurks.” He stepped towards them like a beacon in the darkness. He carried himself with a certain nobility that demanded attention, and when he met each of their eyes, Faris felt the fire return to his heart. This time, it wasn't anger. “You are free to choose your own fate. Destiny has no hold on you. No goddess shall command you, and no gods shall drive you." Faris smirked and nodded heartily at that. “If you are to confront the darkness, do it for yourselves.”
The Warrior paused and met Faris' eye. Something important passed between them, though Faris couldn't say for certain what it was. “Or, fight for the innocent people of this world. They did not invite this disaster upon themselves.”
The fire blazed in Faris' eyes. He nodded again, more seriously this time. They had fought together once, and they would fight together again. For the innocent people who had been ground up beneath that creature's feet. For the people they hadn't managed to save.
“I will fight for those who cannot defend themselves against this threat. If you wish to join me, I will be forever in your debt. If you choose not to walk this path to Hell and back, I will hold no grudge against you.” The Warrior raised his chin proudly -- an unshakable force of good in a senseless world. With one hand on the hilt of his sword, Faris might have mistaken him for a knight in a children's fairy tale. He stood proud, brave, and righteous. "What say you?" he asked, and Faris felt his throat surge with loyalty.
"Aye!" he cried, "We be with you, lad!"
From behind him, that woman dragoon babbled her agreement. As always, Faris couldn't quite follow it, but it ended with a familiar chord. "Let my spear help you in this, Warrior. I will let Hydalen’s light show through me, and through my actions, why I am one of her Chosen.”
Faris let out a laugh as she finished. Shaking his head, he grinned, "You're not the only one chosen to fight." He slung a friendly arm around her shoulders, wincing a little as the spikes of her pauldrons dug into his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about with this 'light' of yours, but we'll all fight together, lass. All of us." Faris released her and took a step towards the Warrior. His eyes blazed with passion. "I'll follow you wherever you go, lad. Whatever fight you're having, you can count on my sword beside you. Let's keep the demons or darkness or whatever it is at bay for a while longer. We've both got enough fight in us for that, I think."
Faris didn't say anything about his amnesia or the Goddess or anything else. That was best saved for another time, if any of this was real at all. "And once we're out of this dream, I think you could do with a stiff drink. On me." Faris grinned wider. "That's a sailor's promise."
Faris laughed again. Maybe this wasn't so bad a dream, after all.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The Warrior smiled.
For some reason, surrounded by nothing, drunk, and probably dreaming, Faris felt his cheeks warm at that smile. It the kind of smile a priest might give -- or maybe a father. There was nothing but good intention behind it, and Faris couldn't help but grin as the Warrior spoke.
'Captain Faris.' Faris laughed at his own name. 'Well, no one's called me that in a while.'
"Not a dream? Well, it sure as hell looks like one, and I'm not daft. I'm either dead or I'm dreaming, and I'm sticking to the latter." Faris crossed his arms decisively. The thought occurred to him that a dream wouldn't have crept up on him so quickly and it certainly wouldn't stand out as clear as a magnifying glass, but Faris refused to think any more on the matter. If he wasn't dreaming then he was dead, and if he wasn't dead...
Well, then maybe he didn't have as tight a grip on reality as he'd once thought.
“I left the pink-haired swordsmen in the forest," the Warrior said,"I was confident that she would be no threat to those people, after all that had transpired. I am sure she will find me again, in her own time."
Faris blinked slowly and then looked at him in shock. "You left...?" he echoed. "What do you mean you just...?" Faris had turned on him in a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed, and hands tight at his sides. "No threat? Are you daft?! That devil cut in a man in half! I saw it! Blood spraying! Meat flying! I would have flayed that curr if she hadn't done herself in before I got the chance! Then she nearly stabbed you, threw me into a goddamn roof, and that little...glowy trick of hers? You think that was for good? She's a threat, alright, and if she finds you again it'll be at the end of a sword! You have my word on that."
With all of his ranting, Faris hardly heard the Warrior's answer. He hadn't found Chaos.
'Well isn't that the devil's luck?'
"Aye, lad. Well I guess I can't much blame you for that, can I? After all, I haven't seen head nor tails of the thing myself. He's probably still running scared." Faris scowled and glanced sideways at the Warrior. "So how else have you been since then? Come to think of it, I don't think I ever asked for your name..."
“Sir Warrior?!”
The knight's attention shifted past Faris to the voice beyond his shoulder. Faris scowled again and turned to eye the distraction. There was another man in their dream-scape -- someone Faris didn't recognize. His body was like a brick wall -- all bulging muscles and hard edges. He wore red pants, a tunic loosely belted at the waist, and leather hand-guards cinched at the wrist. 'A monk,' Faris thought immediately, though he could have been mistaken. It was the same uniform Galuf and Krile had worn when borrowing power from the crystals. Faris had tried it once too, but never again. He just hadn't felt right without a weapon in his hand.
“Apologies, Sir Monk. I’m afraid I do not recognize you.”
The knight looked confused -- almost a little nervous. Faris raised an eyebrow. He hadn't taken the Warrior for the socially awkward type.
There was a flash of light somewhere behind the monk's shoulder, and Faris didn't miss it this time. Squinting through light, Faris caught an arm, a chest, a head. The light disappeared as quickly as it had come, and in its wake it left a man. He was unremarkable, really, with his tight t-shirt, belts, and pair of too-baggy pants. He had a quiet look about him, as though he was more comfortable hiding patiently behind the bangs of his hair than pushing it aside and asking questions. Faris gave him a quick but curious look before returning his attention to the Warrior. He doubted the newcomer could possibly be more interesting.
Faris didn't have long to wait anyway. When the white and gold woman spoke, her voice seemed to come from all directions at once. She was impossible to ignore.
"I know how you feel. How you all must feel," she started, and Faris gave her a strange look. While Faris certainly knew all about a "strange and alien land," he couldn't say much for "Discord" or "Gods" or "Cycles." In fact, a quick look around proved that her speech hadn't confused only him. In fact, the only one who seemed to have understood a single word of it was the knight, who watched her with a kind of cool resolve. The woman met his eye sadly.
"If you die here," she said, "Your soul will return to whatever Aether drives this planet slowly to it's death."
"Ah..." Faris glanced between the knight and the woman uncertainly. "So you're saying that dying is bad...?" Faris gave the woman the kind of no-nonsense look he'd give a particularly dull member of his crew. "Great. I'll try not to die then."
His sarcasm went largely unnoticed.
The woman glanced towards the empty space to their side, and Faris followed her gaze to find...more light. Flashes of light. Dim pulses of light. Light everywhere, just like the rest of this impossible unreality. At first, Faris thought that the woman might just have distracted herself, but Faris sensed something from beyond that light. Something with eyes. If he squinted hard enough, he thought he might have seen figures in the haze. Other people, as trapped here as he was, and stuck there forever.
"This dream just keeps getting worse..." Faris muttered to himself. The woman continued.
Had Faris had a sharper tongue and a bolder stance, he might have interrupted her speech several times over. "My home was protected?" he wanted to say, "There are a few shattered crystals and some black holes that might say differently." She spoke of friends -- how they weren't the same -- and Faris could only watch her with that same incredulous look as before. "My friends are who they are," he muttered, "Now get to the point or I'm waking up."
She didn't. Or maybe she did. From all her talk of Cycles and Discord, Faris couldn't really tell.
The woman approached them slowly, and for the first time, she met Faris' eye. "You are all... carrying a heavier burden than you know," she said before looking once again to the knight. "Even you, Warrior, who has faithfully pushed yourself to your limits in defense of your home... The only truth I know is that your homes... all of them, have been temporally shattered. Whatever force this is... is powerful enough to transcend space and time..." The woman closed her eyes mournfully. When she looked at the knight again, her eyes had softened. "There was nothing I could do. You have... my deepest apologies."
Faris felt himself twitch. There was a storm on his tongue, but he held it back for politeness' sake. He had the feeling she wasn't talking to him. A feeling backed up by her constant glances to the knight at his side.
"Deep in these mountains lies a stronghold that Chaos himself is likely using. But, it has become evident that he is not playing the part of the enemy..."
Faris' eyes widened. "Chaos is-? ...Wait, what do you mean not an enemy?!" But his question went ignored as the landscape changed. A mountain rose before them, cracking out of the nothing like a chick from its shell. Carved in the center was a gate so tall it nearly touched the sky. Apparently this gate was the key to everything. It was the world's salvation, even though she couldn't say what might exist beyond it. They just had to trust this "Goddess who was no longer a Goddess" and complete what she called "the impossible."
Silence fell as the woman finished. "That's..." Faris tried before pausing, taking a breath, and starting again. "That's the daftest thing I've ever heard!"
He was not the only one to think so.
“Tell me, Cosmos,” the knight said, “Please, tell me why I should trust you. After everything that transpired during the cycles, after all that you had hidden from us back then, why should I trust that you speak the truth this time?” The Warrior's voice trembled with emotion. He stepped towards her, glanced at the others, then eyed her coolly. “If I am daring to march towards death once more, I will do so of my own free will, and not as your pawn. Tell us what you know of this gate. How do you know this world is doomed if it remains closed? What could it possibly contain?”
"Pawn?" Faris echoed. His eyebrows furrowed with the implications of it.
Beside him, Eillien was rambling again. She agreed with the knight, or at least, Faris thought she did. She wanted more information. She questioned what could possibly be behind this gate. She didn't know if she could trust this self-proclaimed goddess or if the woman was "appearing in friendship only to try and conquer us the moment she could reach the knife and aim at our back."
Faris' eyes narrowed. "Or something like that," he said. His jaw was tight as he stepped forward. He met the woman's gaze like a feral dog. He wondered which of them would admit defeat.
"Your brain must have addled if you think we'll trust a word you have to say! A Goddess? That's nonsense and you know it!And while you were talking about 'Discord' and 'Gates' and 'Salvation,' that beast Chaos was killing! Hundreds of people! Smashing them all beneath his feet! And you're telling me he's not an enemy?!"
Faris took another step forward until he stood at the Warrior's side. "So why don't you tell us why we're really here? Why didn't you just ask the knight here, if that's who you wanted? Because the rest of us? We don't know anything about Cycles or Gods or even who you are! That devil did the same thing, going on and on about Cycles and whatever nonsense, only he didn't give us all an invitation! So out with it! What is this, who are you, and why should I trust you?" Faris gave a sharp gesture towards the knight. "Because right now, it looks like he's got more than one reason to tell you to shove it, and I'll take his word years before I take yours."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Apr 12, 2016 11:48:34 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@zidane
They haven't gotten off on the best foot for some reason. xD
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris was no stranger to the rough-and-tumble life of a city's seedy underbelly. There was a kind of charm to the unwashed and an honesty among thieves. Once, not so very long ago, Faris had been known through the less reputable parts of the world as a fierce pirate captain -- a no-good, fearsome leader with a sharp eye and a tongue to match. He'd been welcomed into the bars of Tule and Walse with a kind of reverent hush. No one wanted to tangle with pirates -- at least, not if they knew what was good for them.
Of course, a certain kidnapping had changed all of that. Faris was known more for his heroics now than for his ruthlessness. Bartz hadn't been the smartest of men, but his idiot charms could bring out the best from even the seediest of criminals. Truth be told, Bartz' puppy dog eyes had done more to save the world than his sword ever had.
"The wide-eyed idiot..." Faris took another swig of his drink -- a mixture of sickly sweet juice and bottom-of-the-shelf vodka the locals called a "Dragon's Claw." The taste was like rotten peaches, but he tried to swallow before it touched his tongue.
"I know, right? What's he on, thinking we'll buy something as crazy as that?" "Eh?" Faris glanced to the man on his left. He was burly with arms like hams and callouses on his fingers. A dock worker maybe, or a miner. He nodded towards the crowd at the center of the room.
"That kid. He's talking crazy. Something about a princess."
"A princess?" Faris raised an eyebrow towards the crowd. If he craned his neck, he might have caught a hint of blonde in the middle.
"Yeah, kidnapping a princess or something. I think he came in the wrong door."
"Kidnapping a princess...A man'd have to have a lot of brass for that. Dangerous work."
The man gave Faris an odd look, but Faris had already placed his drink on the counter. For once, the barkeeper paid him no mind as he slipped towards the crowd with a pocket half-full of gil and a chip on his shoulder. Maybe he'd return to his pay for drink. But then again, maybe he wouldn't.
"But, we couldn't have predicted what would happen next." A young voice rose above the drunken squabble of the bar. Faris peered around the shoulder of an airship docker to see a boy perched on the table with his head held high and his legs dangling off the sides. The boy raised a hand to his chest like an actor center-stage. His eyes shone brightly in the dim candlelight. "The Queen shot us down, not even caring that her own daughter, the beautiful Princess Garnet, was on the ship as well. We fell, our ship crash landing in the forest, none of us sure we would survive..."
For a long moment, the crowd was silent, waiting for more. The boy flashed them all a devilish grin. "I'll tell you guys the rest tomorrow!"
The docker groaned quietly. "What? You can't leave us hanging like that!"
"That's it? I bet it's all made up anyway!"
"What happened to the airship? Come on!"
The boy hopped from the table and started through the crowd with a spring to his step. He didn't pay any attention to the grumbling, and instead made a bee-line for the bar. Faris watched him sharply.
There was something about him that Faris didn't like. The boy was even shorter than Faris, but he walked as though he hadn't noticed that the bar was full of rogues and that maybe he'd do best not to rile them. The boy had the eyes of a cherub, the grin of a hustler, and the swagger of a hired sword. Faris followed him until they'd reached the counter. Then he folded his arms, leaned against it, and eyed the boy coolly.
"A princess, eh? Ransoming royalty's a dangerous business. You don't seem the type." Faris looked the boy over again and raised an eyebrow. "So what's your story? Your real story? You look like you fit in here about as much as I do." Faris glanced to the faded shirts and denim pants of the bar's patrons. Not a tunic, a glove, or a strip of lace in sight. "So out with it! Where'd you come from? How'd you get here? There's something odd about you, and I can sniff out trouble from a mile away."
Post by Faris Scherwiz on Mar 17, 2016 10:19:12 GMT -6
[attr="class","oneword1"]
[attr="class","fromyou1"]@aria
I think they're getting along well.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris wasn't the smartest man alive. He wasn't even the smartest sailor, and that was saying something. He knew far less about books than he did about swords, but Faris liked to think that formal education didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. He knew how to navigate a foreign city, he knew how to fight in twenty-two different styles, and he knew how to cross a treacherous sea better than anyone in the world. More than all of that, however, Faris knew how to read people. It wasn't a specific art, but he prided himself on his ability to catch a stranger's character from a single glance.
And this glance told Faris that the woman in front of him was very easily offended.
It wasn't just her straight-edged robes or her high collar. It wasn't the neatness of her hair or the headband that kept it in strict line behind her ears. It wasn't even the clean cuffs or her placid expression, but rather, it was her scoff at the mere idea that she might not be brave enough to travel deep into a forest on her own. Faris laughed at it. The fact that he'd been complimenting her seemed to have been completely lost in translation.
"I wasn't suggesting otherwise," he grinned, "Don't go breathing fire now."
Somehow Faris doubted this would go over well, but he found that he didn't particularly care.
"I-!" The woman started as irritably as before, but the word held for longer than it should have, and then she was sighing. "I'm not sure to be honest. I kind of ended up here. Apologizes if I'm not the nicest." Faris smirked at that. "I just don't know how this happened but it's good to know I ended up in a not so haunted forest." The woman gave a snort of laughter, and Faris found himself joining in.
"I didn't say it wasn't haunted, only that I doubt it. The people here are all cowards. They'd cry 'fiend' over a couple of wolves and an imp for good measure." Faris recrossed his arms and gave a haughty toss of his head. "Trust me, I haven't had much luck with them, and I've seen things that would make your blood boil."
Things like Chaos. Faris's lips tightened at the thought of it. Of course, no one could blame the victims for fleeing from that great beast, but there were several kinds of cowardice. Like the kind that hassled their own saviors for daring to look out of place. Like the kind that wouldn't offer even a single free drink for sparing an entire city from annihilation. Faris had lost faith in any of the citizens of this whole damned continent, and he doubted that he'd ever call a single one competent.
Still, there were women like this in the world too. Women who he could tell at a glance were as lost in this kingdom as he was. And as she grasped his outstretched hand, Faris gave her a small, appreciative nod.
"Aria, from the province of Pravoka," she said, and for the first time, she was smiling. "Like I said I kind of ended up here. Trouble seems to find me it seems, so hopefully I'm just talking to someone dumb enough to wander by me and not cause me any trouble."
Faris raised an eyebrow. "Dumb?" he echoed and gave her a sharp look. "Well, you can rest easy lass. I'm not looking for trouble, but you'll be disappointed if you think me dumb." The word's taste lingered in his mouth like rotten fruit. It wasn't books or words or fancy speech that determined someone's worth, and while Faris knew he wasn't the smartest, stupidity was far beyond him.
"I'm the black mage of light," the woman continued after a moment of tense silence. "I mean if we are giving titles and everything might as well give mine."
Faris blinked at the introduction. "Black Mage of Light?" he repeated, "Why, you're not a light warrior, are you?" The words made him laugh again and he grinned. "I am too. A Warrior of Light chosen by the crystals, and it seems a lot more common around here than where I'm from. Back home there were only four of us -- or five, really, but never all at once. If you can say the same, then you'll be the second one I've met in a month. The first was this white knight. Never gave his name, just called himself 'the Warrior of Light.' Helped me fight that great fiend that fell on Torensten -- Chaos. If that knight hadn't fought with us, the beast would have killed us all. He was a great man, that Warrior."
Faris shook his head slowly, and tossed some loose hair of his shoulder. "So, you're a black mage then? Guess you can handle yourself after all. You must've seen some fights of your own if the crystals are with you."
I couldn't come up with any more adventures, so I kind of ended it. I hope that's okay.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
Faris had never been one to stay inside the bounds of the law.
That came from growing up on a pirate ship, he supposed, or maybe it was a natural inclination -- a trait as bred into him as his impulsive disposition or his purple hair. It came more naturally to him than breathing. Why pay for something when you could steal it? Why ride in a ship when you could hijack it? Even when Faris had been given wealth, fame, and a royal title, that hadn't been enough for him. It wasn't the money he was after -- not really.
No, for Faris, it had always been about that rush of adrenaline.
Faris laughed as he emerged from the cloud of smoke. The bystanders jolted in shock, staring at the red-clad phantom which had hurtled from the mist, but Faris paid them no mind. He just laughed and slowed to a stop, brushing his free hair behind his scarf and helm. The ninja class had never felt completely right to him. It wasn't that he didn't like it -- Who wouldn't love hurling knives at their enemies? -- but the outfit wasn't right. The leotard hugged his body too tightly. The belt cinched too closely to his waist. For not the first time, Faris wished he'd been given the same full-body suit as Bartz or Galuf, but he supposed that when the crystal gave him unimaginable power, he couldn't exactly complain about the aesthetic.
At least it wasn't the dancer class.
With so much distance gained and with so many confused pursuers left in his wake, Faris didn't mind slowing as he started down the narrow street. He listened to the click of his boots as he walked. The city was silent -- calm -- but something was wrong. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Faris looked behind him, he looked in front of him, but his alleyway was clear. Slowly, he brought his hand to one of his many throwing knives.
There was a click on the rooftops. Faris spun around just in time to see a black shadow descending on him from the sky. He brought up his knife and prepared to launch it at the attacker...
Only the attacker didn't attack. Instead, it landed beside him with a solid click and turned to face him. Faris caught a flash of curving black armor and a knot of teal hair. He lowered his knives. "Eillien?"
“Well you are a spitfire to say the least. Have not had a good bar fight like that since a night I managed to get a Roe drunk.”
Faris stared at her. "How did you-?" He glanced from her grieves to her breastplate to her holstered spear. "A dragoon..." he muttered, and then laughed. "You caught up with me? Why, I'd almost say you've got the power of the crystals with you!" He shook his head, but his grin was fading fast. "A spitfire, eh? That's why you caught me, I'm guessing? I'm exciting, is that it?"
His stomach churned with something slow and dark. He wished he had another drink. "I'm not that exciting, really." He thought back on the bar. On the assault. That bar had stayed open despite the monster's attack. It was giving people what they needed most in a time of tragedy. And what was Faris doing? Drinking and stealing. Like usual.
"This town doesn't need someone like me in it. Not anymore." He scuffed his boot at the street. Not a few miles away, there wasn't any street left to stand on. Just rubble, ash, and burnt wood. "I'm not so great at building anything. Just fighting, stealing, sailing..." He could almost feel the wind on his face, the taste of salt on his tongue, and he longed for it. "That knight said he'd be going after the beast. Chaos -- that was the devil's name."
Chaos, the god of Discord -- or at least, that's what he'd heard.
"Have you heard anything of it? The monster? Chaos?" Faris had to crane his neck to look at the woman in front of him. She towered over him by half a foot. "A giant, yellow thing? Horns on its head? Wings like a bat?" Faris paused. "No, you wouldn't have lived to tell about it, and if the coward had shown his face, we'd all have heard about it."
Faris let out a long, tired sigh. He let the crystals wash over him again. The light swept over leotard, scarf, and helm until his blue tunic and bandanna replaced them. He didn't have need for weapons anymore.
"I'll find it myself if I have to. I made a promise to that knight. Another Warrior of Light, can you believe it? And here I didn't think that was possible..."
That knight -- the Warrior of Light he'd never met -- Faris hadn't gotten the chance to ask his name. Maybe they'd find each other again someday, and when they did, Faris wouldn't let himself get left behind so easily.
"I'm going. Now. Before I get distracted again." Before another bar called his name. Before he let himself drown his troubles in beer and whiskey. Faris gave Eillien a solid look and nodded his respect. "It was good meeting a fierce woman like yourself. Thanks for reminding me..." Faris shook his head.
"Stay safe, I guess. And, uh. Sorry for the bar fight, lass. I had a few too many, I think."
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The city of Provo didn't have much to offer a pirate. It was cleanly laid out, lined with lamps to spotlight any ne'ever-do-wells, and there wasn't a single body of water in the place worthy of a true sea-faring man. No, Torensten was the place to be with its twisting alleys, dank bars, and streets that smelled perpetually of mud and fish. If Faris had been given the choice, he would have stayed in Torensten drinking, gambling, and stealing for as long as this fever-induced nightmare lasted. But of course, he hadn't been given the choice.
No, his time as a free man had ended the moment the skies had clouded over in red. Now his life belonged to Chaos.
"So you say you saw it? The 'monster of Torensten?' And that's why they gave you that?"A skinny man in glasses and a ragged button-down shirt gestured towards the cloak around Faris' shoulders. Faris gave a shrug in reply.
"Aye, I saw it. I battled it, if you were listening. Helped drive it away with my spear -- not that it did any good. The beast fled before we could finish it off."
"You say it ran away?" The man gave him a skeptical look. Faris scowled and took a quick shot of whiskey. He swallowed almost before it could sear his throat.
"When we were about to send it back to the gates of Hell! The spineless curr. I'll end it myself if I have to. I'll scour the ends of the universe for its yellow hide or I'll die trying." Faris let the shot glass fall back to the counter and gave the man a hard look. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"Ah..." The man blinked nervously. Faris could look damned intimidating when he wanted to -- like he'd killed a thousand men and monsters combined. That impression was not entirely wrong.
"Ah..." The man tried again, "Well it's just hard to believe."
Faris let out a long, loud laugh. "Aye, you wouldn't be the only one, lad. It's a mad tale, isn't it?" When the man said nothing, Faris turned to the rest of the bar. In all truth, it wasn't quite his kind of place -- far too clean with too many straight-cut edges -- but after a few nights wandering their nearby "haunted forest" with nothing to show for it but a few hallucinations and some monster-blood beneath his nails, Faris hadn't felt like spending the night sober. The whiskey stirred in his head as he cried out, "And what of you louts? Seen any demons lately? Yellow skin? Red eyes? Face like the depths of hell?"
The bar went quiet. Dozens of bleary eyes peered back at him. Someone whispered that they should call security. Another whisper suggested that he was out of his mind.
Faris' head pounded. "Of course not! No one's seen it. If you'd seen it, you'd be dead." Faris pushed himself up from the bar stool and waited a moment for the room to stabilize. "You see this?" He held out the blue-lined cloak he'd thrown over his tunic. "This's the cloak of a hero! Zakidum or whatever his name was. They gave it to me for facing that fiend! I've seen what it can do!"
The man with the glasses stared at him. "Why don't you sit down-?"
"Ha!" Faris threw back his head and laughed again. "A warrior of light can take care of himself, lad! I'll be leaving anyway." All eyes were on him as he staggered away. The bartender called that he still owed money for the drinks.
"I still can't get a few free drinks for saving the world? Fine, but I'm letting you off easier than the last dim-headed lout who thought to-,"
'Heed my call, Warriors.'
"Eh?" Faris froze at the words. The voice was a woman's -- calm and sweet. He frowned and glanced about the room, but couldn't find anyone who fit that description. "Did you hear that?"
All around him came muttering. No one had heard.
"I could've sworn-"
"Those drinks. You need to pay for them."
"Fine, fine, I'm-!"
All at once, a light erupted from his chest. The bar was filled with gasps, but Faris stood frozen as it engulfed him. The crystals had reacted -- not just one, but all of them at once. They enveloped them with their light, washing over him with their usual warmth, and all Faris could think was that he hoped he didn't accidentally arm himself in the middle of a crowded bar.
'Heed my call, Warriors.'
The voice echoed again, but this time he didn't hear it so much as he felt it. The voice came from deep inside him, warm as the light that had swallowed him whole. 'Heed my call.'
'The crystal?' Faris thought, 'Is that you?'
The ground fell away beneath him. He no longer felt the moisture of drunken breaths. He no longer smelled the bitter-sweet tang of musty alcohol. There was only the light, and in that light, he saw a woman.
"Who are...?" Faris started, but the woman was quickly overtaken by another sight. Water-eroded houses on river-stilts. A sky clouded over with red lightning. Then came a snarling mouth, horned feet, and eyes like hell-fire. The beast hurtled from the sky and bellowed out over the frightened faces of its victims.
Chaos.
Faris felt a familiar anger rise up hot in his chest, but it felt dull somehow -- tired. The light had faded, but still coursed through his crystals in peaceful throbs. He let out a slow breath, and the woman appeared again. Her white dress flowed around her ankles. Its gold embellishments glinted in the ethereal light, reaching like a necklace up to her collar-bone. A tiara glittered from its nest in her hair.
"I am sure... you all realize that this is wrong. Especially you." Her eyes swept past Faris to someone he couldn't see.
"Of course," a voice answered beside him. It was a familiar voice -- calm and restrained. Faris could have sworn he'd heard it before, but his vision was still clouded and his head was too hazy to think. He blinked hard and tried to clear the fog from his eyes. It didn't help much.
"Many speak about what is right and what is true." Another voice came from Faris' other side. It was a woman, and once again, Faris couldn't shake the feeling he'd heard her somewhere before. She rambled on about philosophy and paths and "Mother Light," and the whole time, Faris could only squint through the light and try to make sense of it all.
The more time he spent thinking, the less he understood.
"Uh. Right. What they said." Faris rubbed at his forehead and then took his fingers to the corners of his eyes. Slowly, the space around him took form, but none of it made sense. He saw a clouded sky, a light which seemed to come from everywhere, and beneath him...white. Pure white like he was standing over an eternity of well-lit nothing. He bit his lip and racked his brain for an answer.
'I'm drunk,' he thought, 'Drunk and passed out. Seeing things, probably. Or maybe I died.'
That made sense. This looked like the kind of thing he'd see if he'd died. It could do with some more water, though.
Faris rubbed at his eyes again. "If you're talking about that devil, I'll be fighting it until it's last breath. Just say the word, lass, and you have my spear. And sword. And whatever else you need, too." His head was starting to clear, and he caught more of the figures at his sides. The woman was shrouded in black metal -- all sharp edges and ornate curves. From behind, he caught a knot of turquoise hair, almost like...
"Eillien?"Faris felt his eyes widen. "That lass from the bar in Torensten? The fierce-some dragoon?" Faris laughed before he could stop himself. "Now why'd you be here? Unless it's all in my head, of course, but that's a different matter all together! Were you dragged here by the crystals too?"
Before the woman could answer, Faris caught movement to his right. The familiar male voice gave way to a familiar figure. He was dressed all in white armor with thick silver-gray hair and a shield in his hand. But what really caught Faris' attention were the two, elongated horns sticking out of his helmet. Faris stared at him in shock.
"And you're that knight! The other warrior of Light from Torensten! The one who drove the beast away with his holy sword!" Faris laughed again, louder this time. "Now I know I'm dreaming! Meeting you here? What are the odds?" Faris waved a hand at the sky. "Not to mention the light and the -- well -- whatever this is."
Still, he couldn't stop himself from grinning. It wasn't right to say that the knight was the only reason they'd all survived Torensten, but it wasn't wrong either. "Well, dream or no dream, I'm happy to see you, lad. I'd been meaning to find you after the fires died down, but I lost you in the crowd. What'd you do with that pink-haired swordswoman? And have you had any luck finding the fiend?" Faris crossed his arms haughtily and suppressed a scowl. "I haven't had any luck myself. The people here are all a bunch of dullards, if you ask me. And they charge too much for a pint of beer."
This post kind of god away from me. You're welcome to have Eillien follow or end it here.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The woman didn't really respond to what Faris had to say. She didn't comment much on his theory, didn't say much of Exdeeath, and barely batted an eye at his talk of other worlds. Instead, she answered with gibberish. She told Faris about "sentient Primals" wreaking havoc and emerging from crystals. She spoke of somewhere called Eorzea and of "Dragon Hordes." Faris snorted a little at the sound of that. He couldn't for the life of him imagine a "horde of dragons," and even so, he wondered what the victims of such a horde would be. Dragon grass?
"Right, well..." Faris cleared his throat to hide his laughter. "We all want to go home, lass. We all have lives to get back to. I have a ship on the open sea. And you have, ah...Dragon hordes." Again, Faris imagined the sky crowded with wind drakes, all pining for dragon grass and human affection. He couldn't help but grin. "You know, I've seen my fair share of wind drakes. Beautiful beasts, in my opinion. Then there was Syldra..." Faris let the name drop slowly from his tongue. He felt his face fall as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. "She was a sea drake. Loyal. We were close as sisters, I tell you! Would've done anything for me. She did, actually..."
Faris could still hear her exhausted cry. Her dull eyes had sunk slowly into the surf, her wide fins thrashing one last time. Faris shuddered and touched at his forehead. The conversation had veered out of his control, as it so often did after he'd been drinking. Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered at all.
'I want to forget. Please, gods, take those cries away...'
"Anyway, that's enough of that." Faris tried to straighten. He set his expression back to what he thought was normal and grinned weakly. "So tell me, how's a dragoon like you gotten by in this new world? I'd wager you've managed a lot smoother than m-"
"Hey! What're you doing out here? You owe five hundred gil!"
Faris blinked in surprise and looked over to see that the door of the bar had flung open. The bartender stood in the door-frame, one hand thrown out at him accusingly while the other gestured to someone Faris couldn't see.
"Hey now! I was just talking to the young lass here! There's no need for shouting."
The man glowered at him from beneath a set of heavy black eyebrows. "Five hundred and forty gil," the man repeated. From behind him there came two shadows looming over his shoulders. Guards or maybe just well-meaning patrons called in to help muscle out what was owed. Faris glanced between and then sighed.
"Alright, you caught me, lad. I, ah...I don't have the gil. I'm new to this land you know, and after fighting that damned fiend..."
"You don't have it?" The man's eyes darkened. His two allies pushed forward.
"Aye, well you don't have to make a mess out of it, do you? I told you, I saved all of your sorry heads when the devil flew in, and I'd say that calls for a few free-" Faris saw the blow coming before the man's fist had formed. Even drunk, he managed to nimbly back-step away from the would-be attack a full second before the punch had been thrown.
Faris' eyebrows furrowed. "Son of a-! You'll regret that!" The street traffic had stopped. Passer-bys froze in their step to watch the altercation unfold. The bartender still stood at the door, watching furiously as the two bulkier men flanked Faris. The one to his right moved to swing again.
"Thankless currs!" Faris threw himself to the side and easily dodged the blow. Even drunk, his steps came faster than any man's had a right to be. Raw instinct had a way of working wonders on an inebriated mind. "If it's a fight you want, I won't be backing down!"
Faris didn't know why he called upon the power of the fire crystal. With the woman still sitting there, even he realized the dragoon class might have served him better. Still, in the heat of the moment and without any time to spare, Faris felt the warm flickering of the fire crystal over all else. Then came the heated light, a blinding flash of white, and Faris felt his tunic tighten to a red body suit. A crimson helm encased his head, wrapped in a loose scarf over his mouth. At his belt came an array of tools, blades, and throwing knives. Faris almost laughed at the near-endless supply of weapons at his command.
It had been a while since he'd fought as a ninja.
The three men stared at him in horror. In fact, now that Faris looked around, every single pair of eyes were watching him with that same, dumb fear. There must've been at least two dozen of them eyeing him now, as though they thought he'd bring out his swords and chase them down like a murderer. Faris tried to keep his attention on the two brutes in front of him. "Not so brave now, are you lads?" He grinned through a few stray locks of hair. The men stood stock-still and said nothing. "Well then. If that's how it is, I'll be leaving now. Don't say I never showed any mercy!"
Faris thought about walking away, but with all eyes on him, it sounded like a long walk to gods knew where. Then his eyes flickered to his belt. His hand was around the smoke bomb before he could think. He hurled it straight into the chest of the burliest guard and then turned tail and bolted as the street filled with mist. By the time he'd gone five feet, he could barely see his own outstretched hand.
Faris laughed loudly as he darted into a narrow side street. Gods, how he loved the fire crystal!
Behind him, the air had filled with shouting, scrambling footsteps, and roaring curses, but they'd never catch Faris as he dodged down narrow paths and vaulted every obstacle in his path. Like a monster in the mist, the street had been swallowed by fog, and Faris had vanished within it.
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
The woman sipped at her amber draft before setting it down in front of her. Faris didn't quite know what had possessed him to talk to this fierce, intimidating woman. In all honesty, she looked like she could have run him straight through with that spear of hers, and like she would do it too, if he made even the slightest wrong move in her presence. Still, Faris was six beers into a night he didn't wish to remember, and he'd never understood his own impulses anyway. Maybe it was the familiarity of her dress or maybe he was in the mood for a fight, but something called him to talk to her, and Faris had never been one to ignore his basest instincts.
"A fellow dragoon then?" the woman said, and Faris found himself humming in agreement. He didn't know why, really, because he was a dragoon only as much as he was a ninja, a red mage, or a summoner, but it felt right. Besides, what else was he supposed to say? 'Not really, but what do you know about crystals? This might take another hour and a half to explain?'
So he nodded along, at least until the woman asked him her next question. "Though could you be the Crimson Dragoon I heard a couple of people speaking about when I entered town?”
"The Crimson Dragoon...?" Faris echoed, and then laughed loudly. "Really? Is that what they're calling me? Well, if it has to be anything..." Faris laughed again and shook his head. "It sure beats the usual names, doesn't it? Brigand. Fiend. Thief. Aye, I'll take 'Crimson Dragoon' any day." Faris reached for a drink that he no longer had, but when his hand closed on air, he masked the movement by leaning heavily against the table. His head spun with the movement, and he waited for it to steady before chuckling again. "Crimson Dragoon..." he muttered again because he hadn't quite gotten used to it. "What'll they think up next?"
Still, he couldn't say it wasn't satisfying to hear. If he had his own nickname (no matter how ridiculous), that meant people were talking about him. Appreciating him. It wasn't just about that noble Warrior of Light (Faris had never asked his name) or that pink-haired murderous that were getting gossip. Faris traced a finger along the table's edge and grinned widely. What were they saying, he wondered, about this fabled Crimson Dragoon?
The woman confirmed his suspicions -- that she was as foreign as he was -- and Faris nodded slowly. "Aye, I thought so. A lass like you? Well, there aren't many like them, let alone in this yellow kingdom. But I wouldn't call this city so peaceful yet. Not after..." Faris frowned. He'd drunk enough to almost forget the face of that demon. That's why he'd come here -- to forget. Yet even through his drunken stupor, he could still see those fiery red eyes. "Not after Chaos." He spat the name like a curse. The beast had tumbled from the sky on leathery wings, smashing men to bloody puddles of flesh and viscera. Its bellows had come like the shifting of the earth.
'I AM DISCORD!'
Faris shuddered and ran a hand through his hair. "That devil. I'll take it back to the depths it came from. The coward..."
He could still feel the harsh sting of its magic bearing down on the city. He could feel the spark of Carbuncle's power ready to send it all hurtling back in the creature's sneering face. But the monster must have felt it too, because as quickly as the magic had come, it had vanished without a trace. Chaos had been quick to follow.
The woman took another sip of ale before shaking her head. “Where are my manners. If my commander could see me now we would be upset with me for not following proper etiquette.”
Faris tilted his head at her and grinned. "Manners? There's no need for that here, lass," he said, but she was already on her feet. Faris had to crane his neck just to look up at her. She was a monster of a woman who would have towered over even the proudest of men. Faris had little doubt she would have dwarfed him by a good ten inches.
“Eillien Blaires, Azure Dragoon of the Holy See of Ishgard." The woman said with an informal bow. Faris blinked and then laughed again.
"Azure Dragoon, eh? From 'Ishgard?' Sounds official."
The woman sat down again, and Faris took the chance to crack his neck. Looking up at her was enough to strain his spine.
"Beastmen? Never heard of it. But if you're talking about monsters, that's a different story." Faris crossed his arms again and watched the street thoughtfully. "Have you heard of the evil mage Exdeath? No one around here has, but I swear, he broke out of the crystals and went about trying to throw the world into a Rift. We stopped him, me and some friends. I still can't believe no one here's heard a word of it. But I'm starting to think that maybe we're in a Rift of our own." Faris clicked his tongue thoughtfully. He hadn't really sat down and spelled it out that way before, but it felt right with the alcohol swimming in his brain. "Aye, that must be it. I must've traveled between worlds again, like with those meteors. It wouldn't surprise me if there was another world out there somewhere. Maybe at the bottom of some whirlpool, and I got sucked in and washed ashore. It wouldn't surprise me at all..."
He was rambling now, he knew. Rambling and not really making sense. But his tongue felt loose and he wanted to talk. Maybe that was why he'd approached this woman. "You're not from around here either. You understand, don't you?" He felt his eyes dull a little as he looked at her. His head swam heavily. "It's like, you wake up somewhere you don't know, can't remember where you were, and now there's all these new places and no one understands a word out of you. No one here's heard of Exdeath or Tycoon or Karnak. A lot of them don't know a thing about crystals either. Just a few things: chocobos, moogles, gil. It must be a whole new world, and we're all stuck in it."
His tongue stopped suddenly. It was heavy -- far too heavy to keep it up like this. Faris swallowed and ran a hand through his hair before adding, "At least, that's what I think."
