Post by Declan Tribal on Jun 12, 2010 3:10:07 GMT
Final Fantasy IX – Chronicles of Gaia
Chapter one – Prologue; Magic Nezumi Knight
“Losing what's dear to you can be painful. Getting it back can be fatal.” - Author Unknown
The crystal.
The source of all life and memory in the universe. Before time began, it was the only source of light in an age of nonexistence. No-one knows of it's origins, or how it came to be, only that it holds the power to create worlds and fill them with life. Over twenty years ago, a genome named Kuja sought to destroy the original crystal, thus ending all life in existence. He succeeded, but a group of eight brave warriors managed to stop him and the creature that was summoned in the aftermath.
But they only succeeded in delaying the inevitable – with the crystal gone, it's only a matter of time before history repeats itself, and Gaia will be consumed by the enveloping darkness.
The only question that remains... is when.
Somewhere in Treno, a lone vixen walked the streets of the city of eternal night. She didn't stand out from the crowd too much, but was not too hard to miss, either – her piercing blue eyes matched her jet black hair, which was highlighted with streaks of silver. It was straight and loose, and fell down to about six inches below her shoulders. Her clothing didn't seem too eye-catchy, either; Her shirt consisted of a black lace woven over a maroon cloth. She wore a pair of black pants to complement her shirt color, wearing a black, leather skirt cut into three inch leather straps for flexibility, with metal studs embedded into the straps.
The stench of alcohol filled her nostrils as she made her way past a few taverns full of rowdy party goers and braggarts, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Oh yes, now I remember why I kept away from the pubs in Treno, she thought to herself. But tonight, she didn't have much of a choice; one of her contacts was scheduled to meet her in an alleyway next to a pub.
As she walked past, a spot of color sitting on a stone windowsill caught her eye, and she turned around to carefully pick the object up. A dead butterfly, it was. She took a closer look at the small carcass, holding it in the palms of her hands and carefully studying it. The fragile creature's carcass had no more substance than a snowflake.
“Hey lady! Whatcha doin' with that fly,” a voice called out, making the vixen jump slightly and interrupting her train of thought, almost making her drop the dead butterfly. It was obviously a child's voice, given the high pitch and curious tone. Without turning to look back, she replied, “Learning from it.” Her voice was smooth, yet had a fairly melancholy tone to it.
“But it's dead, silly!”
This time, the vixen turned to look. It was a young, plump demihuman mutt, probably no older than 8 or 9 years old. “Perhaps,” she responded. “But that does not mean we cannot learn from it. Even in its current state, this creature can still teach us, if we are willing to learn.”
“Like... how to die?”
“Of course,” the vixen replied, looking back down at the pup with a soft smile on her face. Her expression scared the boy, as he took a few steps back away from her. “Now come, don't be frightened,” she spoke, taking a few steps towards the boy. “I'll not harm you.” The pup looks back up as he shook a bit in fear, as the vixen knelt down to his level.
“Maybe you are right,” she spoke softly. “This creature can teach us how to die. Look at it's wings, for example.” She delicately help up the butterfly so that the boy can look at it. “It's true that it can no longer beat them, but they retain the same beauty as they had back in it's life.” He continue to stare at it for a moment, his face awe-struck as he took in what the vixen had to say. “It looks peaceful, does it not? It can no longer feel hunger, no longer feel any form of pain... and yet, it's delicate corpse remains in such a perfect state. Quite a marvel to look at, don't you agree?”
“I dunno,” the boy responded, more out of boredom than comprehension. She sighed, and stood back up on her feet.
“I suppose you're too young to worry about such things yet. Go, run along and play now – you'll have much to learn when you're older.” This time, he did as he was told as he eagerly ran off back into the street. She held the butterfly aloft as she took another good glance at it.
“Life's end... So beautiful, and yet, so tragic. When life ends, it gives off one, final lingering aroma. Light is nothing but a farewell gift passed on from the darkness for those on their way to die.” She carefully placed the dead butterfly back where she found it, and made her way down the alleyway.
As she took a few steps into the narrow stone corridor, the sight of overflowing buckets of refuse and uneaten food greeted her, along with the foul stench that accompanied the state the alleyway was in. It was enough to make her gag slightly.
“Vix Arkelith, I assume?” A voice rang out in the distance. Vix turned to look in the direction of the source and saw a human draped in black approach her, wearing a ridiculous hat. It was her contact alright, so she didn't need to wait long for him to appear. “'Bout time you showed up – Y'know my boss doesn't like it when people are late.”
“A pleasure to hear from you too, Gorbanoff,” she responded, putting a hand on her hip. “What's occupying you these days?”
“Busy enough as it is,” he grunted. “Not enough to put food on my table, but them's the breaks. But I'm not here to make idle talk, so let's hear it.” He folded his arms as he continued to talk. “Did you handle the shipment for us?”
“Of course. Large quantities of weapons and munitions stowed away on a textiles freighter are on their way to South Gate as we speak.” Vix's lip curled slightly as she spoke, perhaps signifying the annoyance that was also present in her tone. “Though I am curious as to why you felt the need to request a meeting in person, just for me to tell you something you likely already knew. A simple letter would have sufficed.”
“Don't look at me,” Gorbanoff responded with a shrug. “I'm just following orders.”
“Then perhaps you'll inform your employer that he should know better than to drag the likes of me out into the open like this, when you hand in your report. So now that you have what you ask for, I shall take my leave..” She started to walk away when Gorbanoff stopped her.
“Wait, just hold on a second! There's something else you need to know, the real reason why I called you out here.”
Vix turned her head to face him again, this time with a slightly curious expression on her face. “Yes?”
Gorbanoff took a deep breath before he continued. “...Your parents have been killed.”
She stood there in silence for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you really playing at?"
“Dunno. Heard someone broke into your family manor and ambushed them in their sleep. Could've been burglars for all I know, but you know how Queen Garnet is like with people like your folks were...”
“Nonsense!” Vix scoffed back. “My parents are extraordinarily cautious in all their dealings. Besides, Alexandria uses lost souls to power their airships, do they not? I fail to see why necromancy is unlawful within their boundaries, and yet mist research is not.”
“Times have changed, m'afraid. Ever since Garnet came into power, she's put a ban on necromantic arts and unlawful use of souls. Guess she didn't wanna follow in her mother's footsteps, not after what happened a couple of decades ago. Some folks're still doing research into 'em illegally, but lately, the queen's been clamping down on necromancy. Makes sense that your folks were lightly caught out and got their just desserts for what they've done.”
“Hmph,” Vix huffed as she listened, hand on hip to show her disinterest in her contact's story. “Nothing but idiot superstition. And if death is truly my parents' 'just desserts', then you deserve nothing less...we merely provide equipment, it is people such as your master and yourself that provide the murderous intent to match.”
“Look, it's just a theory, nothing's been made official yet,” Gorbanoff warned. “But if it's true, it won't be long until her majesty's troops will be lookin' for you, too. You wanna keep your head, take my advice, and stay low for a while. My boss will contact you in a few days – says he's got a special job requiring your... 'expertise', so to say.”
And before Vix could respond, the human grinned as he turned and looked back with a sly smirk on his face. “Until then... Try not to get yourself killed or captured. For our sake, that is.”
And with those parting words, Gorbanoff disappeared down the passageway, leaving the vixen to collect her thoughts as she stared at the mucky stone pavement. “Of course... That was part of our agreement, was it not,” she muttered to herself silently. She didn't have time to dwell on her thoughts right now - the rancid smell in the alleyway was starting to get to Vix, forcing her to turn away and walk back into the main street.
Either he is an agent provocateur, sent to bait me into a rash response...or there may be a grain of truth in his report. Which is it? Vix didn't have to think long and hard on that question. No... of course not – neither possibility makes any sense. His master is a power-hungry fool, but not stupid enough to bait me. But nor is it at all likely that my parents have truly been 'caught out', as the saying goes. There's something amiss that I may have ignored, or overlooked. As she walked through the street, she bumped into a few passerby's along the way, causing her to stumble and break her train of thought. She had to stop for a moment, as more pedestrians avoided walking in her, muttering curses under their breaths as they walked past the motionless vixen.
Well, that leaves me no other choice... I must return home to the manor and investigate their deaths myself. However unlikely it may be, I cannot simply dismiss such a serious possibility out of hand. At least my task here is done - I shouldn't have to return to this place for another few months. Without looking back, Vix resumed walking along the street and made her way towards the city gates.
Burmecia. The Realm of Eternal Rain.
For years, the small nation had been covered by a thick sheet of constant rain. No-one knew how or why it came to be. Some said it was a curse for defying the gods. Some said it was a ward for protecting her citizens. Others said it was a byproduct of the mist. Regardless, Burmecia had its fair shares of trials, tribulations and hardships, from battling the elements to the schism with their brethren, the Cleyrans. Though both suffered near-genocide twenty years ago, their numbers rose back up dramatically – in spite of the occasional crude joke or two about their reproductive capacity.
Since their home city was laid to waste by the Black Mage army, the Burmecians and Cleyrans worked tirelessly to restore their homes to their former glory. Though the Cleyran tree had been destroyed, its remaining citizens resorted to building a temporary settlement around its charred stump. The memory of those atrocities will be burnt into the annals of their history for decades to come, but what doesn't kill them makes them stronger, as the Nezumi have learnt to forgo their grudges against Alexandria and rebuild their livelihoods, living each day to its fullest.
Today was another one of those days.
The chorus of raindrops hammering down over the rooftops and streets in Burmecia echoed out everywhere as usual. The odd citizen or two rushed to avoid getting completely drenched in the downpour as it belted down onto the cobblestone streets. One middle-aged Burmecian in particular headed in the direction of a local tavern – the Dancing Chocobo.
The strong smell of alcohol and sounds of loud, rowdy chatter greeted him as he opened the door to step inside. Various kinds of customers stopped in there from time-to-time, from off-duty Burmecian militia and dragoons to drunken braggarts and one-night-stands. One customer stood out from all the others; A young Burmecian with shoulder-length brown hair named Declan sat at the bar, nursing a shot glass of whiskey in his hand. He stared into his drink for a while before pursing his lips to the glass rim and knocking his head back, the brown liquid flowed down his throat with a slight burning sensation. Letting out a sharp sigh, he slammed the glass back down on the bar.
“Hey barkeep,” he asked the bartender. “Any chance of getting another stiff drink around here?”
The bartender, Ernie, turned around as he was cleaning a pint glass. He was a paunchy nezumi in his late 30s, sporting short, unkempt hair. “Yer a little young to be drinkin', ain't ya? You over 18 yet?”
“Hey, I thought the drinking age was 21,” Declan responded. “Besides, you've served me a few times before, you know I drink responsibly.”
Ernie sighed to himself and set the pint glass down on the bar. He got busy setting some ice in Declan's shot glass and poured more whiskey over those rocks. “You're gonna get into a heap of trouble one day, kid,” he said as he served the young nezumi begrudgingly. “Also, you still owe me for last month's tab, so I gotta start crackin' down a bit.”
Declan stared in his glass again as he swirled the drink around in its container. “Yeah... Well, things aren't going right for me, lately.” He took a sip and felt the strong alcohol go down his throat. “First my uncle disappears, then I lose my job... and now my landlord's gonna kick me out on the street any day now. Some luck, huh?”
“Well, a sob story like that ain't gonna pay the bills now, are they?” Ernie stopped for a moment to serve another customer, filling a pint glass full of ale before he passed it over.
“Maybe so,” Declan just muttered, cradling the shot glass in his hand as he swirled the cold liquid around inside. “The truth is, I've been saving up for a trip for a while now – cross continent exploration. But every time I save up a bit, I just lose it again, one way or another.”
Oh gee, I wonder why, the bartender thought as he rolled his eyes. “You ever thought about joining the army, or being one of them dragon knights? Best way you can go see the world for free, if ya ask me.”
“That's not the point! I don't wanna travel for free if it means being held on a leash all the time. Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for the army.”
“Is that so?” Ernie just raised his eyebrow as he reached for another dirty glass to wipe clean. “Well, if ya feel that strongly about it... Why don't you try taking a job on one of them farms outside these walls, then?”
Declan just stared in his glass as Ernie continued to talk, just barely making out his reflection in the brown, semi-transparent drink. “Farm work, huh? Doesn't sound too bad...”
“Yeah, those guys out there are always looking for an extra hand or two. Pay rate ain't bad, either. Just... be careful, though - I hear one of 'em's a real psychopath who hates us kind walking on their land. No-one goes in, or out of there alive, ya hear?”
Declan pursed the shot glass to his lips and knocked his head back as he took one final swig of his whiskey, before setting the empty glass down on the table.
“Y'know what Ernie, you're right – I'm gonna go out there first thing tomorrow and find myself some work in the fields. And maybe then, I could afford that trip at last...”
Before Ernie could get a chance at formulating a response, the young nezumi hopped down from his seat and threw the hood of his jacket over his head, only for the bartender to call out to him. “H-hey, where do you think you're going?! You haven't paid for your-”
“Oh, just put it on my tab, I'll pay you back later,” Declan calls back as he heads towards the door, opening it and stepping out into the blustering rain. Ernie did nothing but clench his teeth and cursed him under his breath, resuming serving the thirsty customers. The middle-aged Burmecian that stepped in earlier took a seat at the bar, letting out a gruff as he sat down.
“Hey Ernie, a pint over here if you will!” he called out. The bartender didn't have time to openly complain about Declan freeloading from him again, as he was quick to fill another pint glass with frothy booze, before passing it over to the willing customer. “So I've noticed you've been having problems with that kid, lately. Any idea on who he is or anything?”
“Yeah,” the bartender replied. “Said his name was Declan Tribal, or something like that.”
“Tribal?!” The nezumi's eyes widened as he heard that name. “You don't supposed he's related to that Zidane guy, or anything?”
“Do you see a monkey tail or a flock-of-seagulls haircut on him?”
“...no?”
“Well then, I guess he isn't.”
The middle-aged nezumi growled softly in annoyance. “Thanks Ernie. You mind saying that one more time without the sarcasm?”
The rain continued to hammer down as Declan quickly rushed his way home. Luckily for the young nezumi, his apartment was only a few blocks away from the Dancing Chocobo, no longer than ten minutes apart from each other by foot. Or shorter, in the case of rushing home, like he was now. It didn't take long before Declan reached the three-story apartment block, rushing towards the staircase and sprinting to the top floor like a dog running through a garden sprinkler.
The usual sounds of daily life could be heard from behind each door as Declan passed by, from children playing and laughing to bitter couples shouting at one another over money. Nothing to hold his interest for long though, as Declan neared his own apartment. Reaching into one of his back pockets, he rummaged about for his door key, pulling it out just as he stepped outside his door and unlocked it.
The young nezumi took a deep breath of relief as he stepped inside from the rain at last, closing the door behind and hanging up his coat on the rack next to it. The inside of Declan's apartment was hardly a very welcoming sight – there were various bits and bobs strewn over the cupboard tops and shelves, not to mention the mold that was growing along the walls. The kitchen was even worse – two plates with leftover food were laying on the small table, which was nowhere near as bad as the sink, full of unwashed cutlery and dirty dishes.
He wasn't without any entertainment, though – the bookcase adjacent to the couch was lined up with a huge collection of books, mostly fiction from varying genres and several popular graphic novels. At the opposite end of the room was a small bench with a heavy barbell resting by the wall next to it, as well as a few dumbbells tucked away beneath the bench.
Stepping over a few bits and bobs discarded on the floor, Declan made his way over to the bookcase, glancing at some of the books he has stacked on each shelf. Scanning over his collection, he finally pulled one out from the middle shelf, entitled “Way of the Peaceful Warrior”. There was a bookmark placed halfway through the novel, indicating that Declan had been reading it for quite a while, but never got around to finishing it. He figured a little light reading before packing might do him some good. He sat down on the couch, laying back as he opened up from where he last left it, reading through the next few passages:
'The young knight, Sebastian, peered out towards the morning sun as it shone in his face. It was the dawn of the last days of the war, and, although he disliked fighting, he knew what had to be done. Securing his sword scabbard to his hip, he began to march forward towards his fate. Just then, his love Isolde called out to him, running to catch up to the knight as he marched on.
“Sir Sebastian, wait,” she pleaded as she finally reached him. “Do you still insist on going on your journey?”
The knight turned around to face his lover, as she stood there with an anxious look on her face. “Of course, my love. You must understand this, Isolde – the war is at its last stages, and the king believes I may be able to turn the tide for us. I do not know if I will return... but I will fight on, knowing my love and my child will have a better, more peaceful future.”
“Sir Sebastian... I do not think I can live on my own. Without you in my life... my future would all be for nothing.”
She was on the verge of tears as she lowered her head, the knight stepped forward to cup her cheek and raised her head slowly, getting her to face him.
“The future does not exist, my love. Neither does the past. Live in the moment.”
Isolde nodded slowly, choking back her tears and closing her eyes as she leaned in against her beloved knight, kneading her fingers against his breastplate while he ran his fingers through her silken locks. They gazed at one another, the knight embracing his lady as he leaned in to give her a passionate farewell kiss...'
Declan continued to read through, deeply engrossed in the book as he breezed through it page after page. It wasn't long before sleep soon took hold of him, as the young nezumi struggled to concentrate on his reading, with most words appearing on each page as a slight blur. He soon gave in to his tiredness though, as Declan completely blacked out whilst sprawled across the couch, just barely holding onto his book as his arm slumped down the side. It soon slipped out of his hand, falling onto the floor with a heavy, audible flop on it's back and closed itself as it landed. Declan is certainly going to curse himself for his poor memory, and for not bookmarking his last page – he's just erased a good amount of progress he'd been making with his book for the past few months.
It was the same dream that Declan has been having for quite a while. It was an image of Declan in some ruins, surrounded by a blazing hot fire, as well as dead bodies all over the place – the corpses of various humans and demi-humans littered the place. Then, Declan took a look at himself, and he was shocked by the discovery he just uncovered – his hands were covered in blood. Suddenly, a hot blaze covered his vision and his dream ended.
Declan gasped and shot up on the couch, the burmecian's breathing became erratic and shaky, beads of sweat dripping down his face. He looked around to see that he was back in his apartment, having slept on the couch that night. Sighing heavily, Declan brought his palms to his face and rubbed his eyes, sitting up on the couch.
“I had that dream again...” he quietly muttered to himself. He slowly got up on his feet and, careful not to trip over any of his belongings on the floor, peered out of the window. Declan saw that it was already morning, having spent yet another night on the couch. At this rate, he'll probably forget what it's like to sleep in a proper bed. No time to muse about it, he thought to himself, as he stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower before leaving.
It wasn't as bad as the rest of the apartment, but the shelves were still rather messy and disorganized, littered with all kinds of toiletries. Turning on the shower head, Declan let the water run as he waited for it to get hot, stepping out of his clothes and grabbing a bar of soap before stepping under it. The nezumi sighed as the warm water rushed over his body, his athletically-muscled frame just barely hiding underneath his short, off-white fur as it glistened, the shine adding a bit of definition to his musculature. He got to work washing himself, rubbing himself down with the soap from head-to-toe before putting it to one side and grabbing a bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his hands before massaging it into his hair.
Standing under the running water, Declan let it wash out all the shampoo before turning the faucet off, stepping out to grab a towel to rub himself down. Content with a nice, clean body, Declan wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom, heading next door into his bedroom. Ignoring the mess again, Declan stepped over to his wardrobe and took a look inside for something fashionable to wear. He pulled out several articles of clothing from the wardrobe – a black jacket with a gold outline, a black short-sleeved shirt, a pair of black leather pants, and a red cape. After laying them onto the bed, he rummaged in one of the drawers for a pair of underwear, a brown utility belt, and a pair of black, fingerless gloves, throwing them onto the pile behind him.
The nezumi discarded his towel, putting on the outfit he assembled just moments ago, starting with his underwear. Followed by his shirt, then the pants, jacket, gloves and belt came on, and finally finishing the look with his cape. Declan took a look at himself in the mirror, making a few adjustments to his cape and belt, then straightening out his gloves before admiring himself for a bit, content with his look.
His train of thought was soon interrupted, however, as Declan heard a loud knocking at his front door. He grunted in annoyance as to why anyone would call at this time of day. Slowly and quietly, he stepped out of the bedroom and towards the door, keeping his breath quiet as he peered through the spyhole.
Oh, great... it's Count Duckula, he thought to himself as he recognized his landlord, Lord Dartmoor. The duck-man was dressed in a manner that seemed like he was an important person. Or, at least, that he thought himself as important. He was a bit plump, with a number of plain markings that he tried to make up for by wearing flashy clothing and a gold monocle. He knocked on the door again, startling the nezumi again as he looked through the spyhole.
“Hello?” Dartmoor called out. “Is there anybody home?”
Taking a deep breath, Declan's hand reached the doorknob and turned, opening the door to greet his landlord. “Ahh, there you are, my boy,” the duck-man responded. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone was still alive in there.”
“Mr. Dartmoor, sir,” Declan responded in surprise. “I thought the rent's not due for another week or so.”
“Oh, it's not about rent, my boy.” Dartmoor then invited himself into the apartment, his face wrinkled with disgust as he saw the state of his living room. “Goodness, but this place is a pig sty. And those walls... such a disgusting sight. When did you last clean this place, boy?”
Declan turned red in embarrassment, turning his face away from the duck. “W-well, I was gonna get around to it...”
“You haven't paid attention to our last conversation, have you?” He responded in a firm tone, tipping his monocle at Declan. “I told you, if this place hasn't improved in a few months time, then I'll have to, well... take control of the situation, so to say.” He stepped outside for a minute, gesturing for someone to follow him in. Soon after, a few burmecian workers followed him in. Two of them were carrying pails full of cleaning supplies and tools, while another had a clipboard with him, jotting down notes as he surveyed the place.
“I'm sorry to say boy, but I'm afraid that, effective immediately, this apartment is no longer yours. You see, I've been receiving complaints about the, ahem... 'decor' in this apartment, and I must say, it's not a pleasant site to behold, don't you agree? So, seeing as I'm good friends with the fellow who helped build this place, I've agreed to help remove you for the time being whilst we clean up your mess and redecorate.”
“Wait, wait a second,” Declan protested. “You didn't call and tell me you were gonna repossess my apartment! I-I didn't even get time to pack all my stuff, yet.”
“Not to worry – I'll keep an eye on all your belongings, once we've cleared everything out. You... do have a place to stay for a while, do you not? Like your parents, in particular?”
Declan stood still in silence for a bit, before he formulated a response. “Uh... Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”
“Well, then,” the duck-man said, almost cheerfully. “There's nothing to worry about, is there? It's only because I grew quite fond of young folk like you that I offered to do this – wouldn't want tomorrow's geniuses left out on the streets, do we? And because I feel sorry for you, I will happily return your apartment to it's former state before you moved in and hand the deed back to you, but you will have to foot the cleaning bill. And I do hope you'll keep it more tidy in the future, will you not?”
Geez, for someone who acts so generous, you sure do like to rub it in, don't you? Declan mused to himself. “Of course – I suppose I gotta thank you for this. You've just saved me some time and bother from having to pack my own things. Carrying all that around would've been a right pain in the ass.” Declan turned his heels and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned to face Dartmoor again. “Well, I'll leave you to it then – see you around.” And with that, Declan left the building.
Dartmoor's grin soon left his face as he took another look around – this time, his eye catching one of the dumbbells Declan left on the floor. The duck-man bent down to pick one of them up, the weight was fairly heavy in his hand as a result of lack of exercise on his part. “Hmph. I swear, that boy reminds me of myself when I was in my youth... But, alas, just look at me now.”
He sighed to himself and placed it back down, walking over to one of the workers who was busy tearing down some of the pictures on the walls. “No, no, no,” he reprimanded him. “leave the family decorations for now, just get rid of all the mess first!”
As Declan stepped out into the street, he noticed that the rain had died down to a light drizzle – no need to put up his hood, then. He took one last look at the apartment block before he traversed down the streets of Burmecia. It was still early morning, so everywhere was empty for the most part, not counting the odd civilian walking to work, or city guard on duty.
He spent a while navigating the city streets, until eventually, he came across a small street leading to one of the city's walls. This particular section of the walls was different, however – upon closer inspection, there was a small hole that had been made overnight, big enough for the average nezumi to crawl through... and yet somehow had gone unnoticed by the night patrols.
The ones responsible for the damage, a pair of local criminals named Biggs and Wedge, were hiding out on the other side of the hole, ready to smuggle several crates containing materials of a rather... questionable nature; Specifically tax-free cheap alcohol, tobacco, and of course several knives and other stabbing weapons. They weren't very fashionably dressed, either; Both were dressed in worker's overalls and a grubby, worn-out t-shirt each. Wedge's overalls were a dull blue, whilst Biggs', the leader of the two, wore red.
“Hey boss,” Wedge called out as he walked over to his boss. “You think we're gonna get paid big time for all this junk?”
There was a brief pause for a moment, as Biggs was busy checking over their spupplies. Impatient, Wedge called out to him again.
“Biggs!”
“Not now,” Biggs responded back, with an annoyed grunt. “Can't you see I'm busy? Let's see... We got all that cheap liquor all right, and... Geez, what's with all these crappy old tools? Cheap knives for weapons?! Why couldn't we just upgrade to firearms, like Lindblum has already? And... and... Why do I have to be the one to play Delivery Boy?! AUGH!!!”
Wedge stepped back a bit, ears pinned flat against his head as he listened to his boss' ranting and raving, backing away slowly so he wouldn't be on the receiving end of another beating. Again.
“I'll just, erm... keep an eye out for any passers by.” And with that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the scene.
“Now, then...” Biggs muttered to himself, writing down something on a clipboard he kept next to him. “That's everything in that crate... And... Everything seems to be in order in this one... And... There! Everything's in order. No screw-ups guaranteed this time... Now I can finally get that promotion!”
Unbeknownst to the two crooks, Declan had been watching them this whole time. The young nezumi then slowly crawled through the gap, careful not to made any sudden movement in case his toenails ended up making any loud noises on the rocks as he slowly climbed down the rubble. He then crawled around and snuck up behind Briggs while he was still reviewing his notes.
“Hey,” Declan called out to him. “What do you think you're doing out here?!”
Biggs jumped and dropped his notes, the crook quickly getting onto his feet and spun around to greet the young nezumi. “AHHH!!! L-likewise, what are YOU doing out here, young man?! Shouldn't you be getting ready for school or anything?” As he surveyed him, Biggs noticed that, despite his... odd attire, Declan was completely unarmed. A sly grin appeared on his face as he saw the opportunity to set his underling on the nezumi for a surprise attack.
“What, no weapon? Well, this ought to make things easier for us then. WEDGE! Take care of this nosy brat!”
The two stood there in silence, as Biggs looked around to see where his underling went. Declan was less than impressed – sighing to himself, he placed a hand on his hip and stared daggers at him.
“W-Wedge?” Biggs called out again, looking around frantically. “Wedge?! You better not be looking at those dirty magazines again!”
“What's wrong? I'm just a kid, aren't I? Surely you don't need any extra help with that, right,” Declan asked rather sarcastically, folding his arms as he continued to stare at Biggs.
“I... Ah... Well, um... I-I didn't ask for your sarcastic comments, you brat!” Biggs slowly backed off, as Declan slowly made his way towards him. “I'm just, uh... Leaving now. Yep, that's it. I'm done here. So, I-I'll just, um... step back here and...”
Biggs then saw his opportunity. Picking up a crate, he quickly hurled it towards Declan, knocking the young nezumi onto his back – and possibly destroying the container's more fragile contents as the box landed on him with the sounds of shattering glass coming from inside. With him now incapacitated, the crook wasted no time picking up his longsword from behind one crate, drawing the weapon from it's scabbard and slowly walked back over to Declan, as he lay flat on the ground.
Ugh. First I get evicted, now this... I shouldn't have bothered waking up this morning, Declan thought to himself. Waiting until Biggs got close to him, Declan pushed the crate off him towards his attacker, causing him to stumble slightly. Quickly, Declan rose to his feet, but not before Biggs readjusted himself, kicking the broken box to one side and swung his sword at the charging nezumi.
Declan ducked, narrowly missing getting his neck hued as the blade just nicked his hair, charging towards his attacker and slammed his shoulder into him, knocking Biggs onto his back. Declan grabbed onto his sword wrist, pinning it down while he swung a right-hook to Bigg's face, which he countered by grabbed his wrist and held it back away from him.
The two nezumi struggled for a while, their labored grunting and panting echoed out around them as they tried to overpower one another, until Biggs kneed Declan in the groin, causing the younger nezumi to cry out in pain as he was flipped over onto his back, Biggs pinning him down fully as Declan's grip on his right wrist loosened, freeing his sword-arm.
Grinning widely, Biggs pointed the tip of his blade at Declan's neck, the sharp edge just lightly grazing against his jugular vein. “Hehehe... You should'nt go around picking fights with us kid – we're dangerous, see?” He then pressed the edge of his sword firmly against his neck, applying a bit of pressure, but not enough to cut into it. “Oh, and don't worry about mommy and daddy finding you out here – I've got a nice, hot acid bath waiting for you once I'm done hacking you to bits!”
Biggs, unfortunately, didn't realize his mistake – he forgot that Declan still had a free hand. Except this time, he latched his hand around the crook's sword, his fingers pressing into the dense metal blade. Soon after, the sword was then engulfed in a light-blue electrical veil, traveling up to the hilt and passing through Biggs' hand. The crook yelled out in pain as he was electricuted, letting go of his longsword as he was flung back a few meters, his arm numb from receiving quite a shock.
Wide-eyed, he looked at Declan in shock – how on Gaia did he manage to disarm him by electrocuting him with his bare hands?! Sowly, Declan rose to his feet, grabbing onto the longsword's hilt with his right hand and twirled it around a couple of times as he looked down at the fallen Biggs. “Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to mention,” Declan spoke up at last, resting Biggs'... no, his new sword on his shoulder. “See, I'm not just some ordinary nosy schoolkid. I have skills and abilities that even I don't quite fully understand.”
Biggs just sat there and snarled at the young burmecian, slowly climbing onto his feet as he still clutched his arm. “You little brat,” he sneered. Declan just smirked back, hand on hip as he continued to berate him. “Oh, by the way – you shouldn't go around picking fights with me – I can be pretty dangerous, y'know?”
Just then, Wedge finally showed up, sledgehammer in hand as he rushed to hiss boss' side. “Hey boss, didja finish checking over our stuff?” His attention then went over to Declan, seeing as he was armed with Biggs' favorite longsword. “W-w-what's that kid doing over there, with your sword?!”
Biggs turned around, his eyebrows furrowed as he spat at his underling. “Wedge! Where've you been, for God's sake?!” He was pretty glad that Wedge had shown up; not for backup, but because he had a capable weapon to stand up to Declan. Quickly, he grabbed onto the lever of Wedge's sledgehammer, kicking him hard in the thigh, causing him to let go as Biggs pulled it out of his grasp, then swung the handle towards his head, knocking Wedge – and a few of his teeth – out.
“No pay for you this month,” he scowled, spitting on his fallen comrade as he faced Declan once more. “Ready for round two, kid,” He sneered at the young nezumi, before he charged at him. Okay, this is it – the real thing now, not a training session with my dad. Declan was ready to strike, but before he could swing his blade, Biggs slammed the head of his sledgehammer into Declan, knocking him off balance. With his opponent stifled, he raised his weapon high, ready to strike the killing below.
Declan wasn't ready to give up – thinking quickly, he swung his blade upward, hitting the wooden lever. Gripping the hilt with both hands tightly, he exerted all his strength to push upward, forcing Biggs off-balance. His attack was repelled, and he swung in for another blow, only to be met with another block from Declan.
Snarling, Biggs butted the head of his sledgehammer against Declan's left leg, knocking him down on one knee as he yelled in pain again. The young nezumi clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the agonizing pain in his left thigh – his bones haven't shattered, but the blow was strong enough to cause some major bruising to his quadricep. He firmly gripped the hilt on his sword, the rubber bindings squeaked as he tightened his hands around it. His longsword once again flashed a light blue as it was bathed in electricy.
Biggs now saw that his victory was near, grinning sadistically as he raised his sledgehammer over his shoulder ready to deliver the final blow. As he swung down, Declan swung back up, lightning arced from the swing as his powered-up blade cut through the lever, splitting the hammer into two. The crook growled in annoyance, discarding the lower part as he held the remainder of his hammer. “Huh! I only need the hammer head to beat you with, anyway!”
He swung the now-shortened hammer at Declan like a madman, who was trying his best to dodge his incoming swings; At that length, it would be pointless to try and fend it off with his sword, in case he knocked it out of his hands and struck him with the hammerhead. He just needed an opening, to finish this...
He got his chance, soon after – after flailing about with his hammer-club, Biggs lowered his weapon to one side, panting heavily – swinging that mallet around had put a bit of a strain on his arm, and it quickly tired him out. Now that he had his opening, Declan's blade charged again, this time with a black, smokey cloud. He swung it horizontally at Biggs, who leaned back to avoid getting slashed by Declan's blade. It missed, but the black mist surrounding Declan's sword got into Biggs' eyes, effectively blinding him.
Now that his sight as been taken away from him, Biggs swung his little mallet around randomly in every direction, before ultimately losing his temper and threw it towards some crates, destroying them and the contents insides. “Ah... Ah... AHHH!!! You little brat,” he spat out, throwing his fists around blindly. “I swear I'm gonna kill you, once I get my eyesight back!” Declan chuckled to himself at the crook's ranting, limping a bit on his left leg as he stepped in closer for one last blow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever – I'm getting bored of you, now.” As Biggs' back was turned, Declan slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of his head, effectively knocking him out and down for the count.
Battle won, Declan stumbled over to a nearby rock and slumped down next to it, panting heavily; His first real sword fight and already he's exhausted. He didn't have time for a proper rest, though – soon, someone's going to come across this mess, whether it be any patrolling guards or any crooks that Biggs and Wedge may have worked for. Reaching into his bag, Declan pulled out a tonic and consumed the drink, the cool liquid rushed down his throat as he soon feels replenished – for the time being, that is.
Slowly, he got back up onto his feet – his left left still hurt a bit, but he'd just have to put up with it. No time for a thorough checkout, as he could hear voices from behind the wall. Quickly, Declan snatched up Biggs' sword scabbard and sheathed the sword back in place, and ran as fast as he possibly could towards the plateau, never looking back, always looking forward.
Not long after Declan had fled the scene, a group of three Burmecian millita men – two guards, let by one captain – had came across the hole in the wall and the crime scene beyond. The captain crawled through first, surveying the state of the area it was left in.
“My god, what a mess – almost half these crates have been smashed open, and... Well, lookie here! If it isn't my two best friends Biggs and Wedge. No doubt you two had something to do with this?” He looked at the two criminals, still unconscious after their spat with Declan earlier.
“Captain,” One of the guards had called out, as he took a look around. “What... went on here, I wonder?”
“No idea,” he replied, turning to face his cohort. “But I have a feeling whoever kicked their asses,” he sneered, pointing his thumb towards Biggs and Wedge. “...did us a really big favor.” He took another look around before opening his mouth again. “Alright men, I want this place cleaned up, and I want those two taken into questioning. Dunno what went on down here, but...”
He was cut off as he saw a clipboard next to one of the crates. The captain stepped over, bending down to pick it up, his eyes pouring over the notes that had been written down on the sheet of paper attatched to it. “Well, well, let's see what we got here... Booze, tobacco... weapons?! Oh, I've got you two by the balls now...”
Well, there you go - Chapter one is up. As soon as I'm fully awake enough to do so, I'll start working on Chapter two!