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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2017 0:53:33 GMT
It is a calm night. The rain that constantly pours from the mist is a mere pitter patter on the dugout rooftops of Outer Burmecia, and even against the constant screen of the Mist, cracks of silvery purple moonlight manage to trickle through.
It's no shock that Outer Burmecia isn't the most tourist-friendly layer of the city. Looking at the wrong angle of the sloped homes; the whole place just looks like a mass of grassy hills. It also didn't help that many of these homes are stacked and interwoven like rabbit warrens.
Still, the outer layer was lush with greenery, and the Burmecians utilized every inch of space for spuds and golden wheat. One can even find throngs of hardworking farmers, whom even after day's break are still turning soil for aeration.
If one is well versed in the city's layout--or just plain lucky enough to find their way--they could find a small pub near the rice fields. Fresh soil drips and warps the pub's wooden sign, but it can still be read: Agnes' Spear.
Inside the Agnes' Spear the floors are lined nearly shin deep with chocobo hay. The place is thick with various forms of pipe smoke, which copulates and clogs the air. The few tables and counter are filled to the brim with paupers and nobles and city watch alike. Drinkers even funneled outside, but there are no gripes to be had.
Today is the end of the first harvest, and the Nezumi folk want to celebrate.
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Post by TheSeeker on Jun 1, 2017 3:43:41 GMT
It was quite a trip heading back from the tree city of Cleyra, but Jess was finally on the outskirts of her peoples' city. Time always had a habit of flowing at different paces, and the few months she'd spent in Cleyra came and went at an ever-shifting flow of events. Some days her learning went by too soon, others of evenings with aching legs and tired arms took ages. Nevertheless she found something she could devote herself to at last -- learning the natural magic and physical skills of a dancer. Now she was back, and now she couldn't wait to return to Burmecia.
She missed her friend Mack, her brother Kenneth and her parents Dawn and Benjamin. They were surely still up to their old ways in the city -- a city-slicker, a chocobo-riding soldier, a bard and a blacksmith respectively. The question was, even if they'd happily welcome her back, who else would? It was no surprise to many that she would eventually fall out of the corps of the Dragon Knights, lacking the devotion to its training regimen. She was a lover, not necessarily a fighter, and while she was allowed discharge without losing honor she was by no means held in a good light for that fact among a good number of her fellows in her home city.
She wasn't even born in Burmecia nor Cleyra -- she and her folks lived in Treno for years before moving back to Burmecia. Was she even worthy of calling herself a Burmecian, or was she merely a rover of a Nezumi?
These thoughts crossed the mind of the youth of twenty-two more than she cared for that evening. In the pocket of her dark leather coat, she clenched her silk dancer's sash, the proof of her victory over her self-doubts and lack of perseverance. This was something that meshed with her being. This was the true her -- a dancer, not a dragoon.
And now she sat at a small, quiet table in Agnes' Spear, waiting calmly before she'd order some sort of cocktail.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2017 5:42:49 GMT
It's almost magical you could find a chair to rest in at all. This throng was thick enough to choke on. Your thoughts and worries managed to penetrate the cacophony of kick dances, screaming, and flying hay, but the grasp of your smooth sash soothed you. Now if only it could stop the barrage of butts, whipping tails, and clanking armor from bumping against you constantly.
Just then, a shadow casts over you. A gray furred Nezumi with an eyepatch and a large green coat towers over you. He's an elderly man and his frayed, dirty white ponytail shows it. He nods to you and shouts over the crowd, "Ay lady! Yeh lucky I noticed th' jacket! Yeh gotta push UP to the bar for food n' drink ere'! Only noticed yeh from th' nice coat y'got on!" He points to your coat with the only finger he had left on that hand (aside from the thumb).
"Yehr not from around ere, ah? Yeh want any Rat Tail Ale, a Shalashaska!? Wait... I know." His green eye narrowed toward you, as if trying to read you. "Y'want a Mud Shack Cocktail!?" He flashes a confident set of yellowed teeth.
A sharp jolt of pain fires up you spine. The metallic boot of a city guard stomped down on your tail. "Schorry. HIC." the guard says before funnelling out of the pub with a group of merry Nezumi to shout into the night.
The place cleared out a bit, at least offering a bit more breathing room.
The old Nezumi smiled nervously. "Sorry 'bout that. It's a special time for evvyone."
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Post by Robshi on Jun 1, 2017 13:57:38 GMT
Another figure marched through the doors to Agne's Spear. The light of the pub revealed a wet and grumpy face of a rather strange looking Burmecian. His fur was rather pale and looked more like the beige colour of flesh. His snout was incredibly small for a nezumi, and his tail was not incredibly long either. He wore a blue waterproof jacket along with armour that marked him as a dragon knight, despite his strange appearance.
Sir Frato had just finishing a rather strenuous training session, and was looking to try and unwind with a drink. He made his way over to the bar and sat himself down, giving a slight glance at Jess before turning towards the barkeeper.
"Hey barkeep. I'll have a pint of ale."
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Post by Deleted on Jun 1, 2017 16:22:12 GMT
Frato pushes through a wave of inebriated Nezumi and makes it inside the small pub. Depending on his interpretation of things, he could see the place as either homely or a dirty sty. Same can be said about the tall, grizzled barkeep, who was apologizing to Jess just as you asked for your ale.
"Y'gotta go to th'front if yeh wanna-!" the barkeep acted entirely on reflex, but stopped when he noticed to wasn't manning the bar. He sees Frato's coat first, then his face. He springs into a salute and says, "Yes, Dragon Knight. Take it on th'house!" As he makes his way to a bar he mumbles, "Poor man. Some battlescars never heal."
Like a radar dish, one of his ears stays perks toward Jess in case she decides on her drink. "Ay Finnegan! Get yehr arse in here and help yehr old man!"
From the back room, a small Nezumi teen emerges. He has the physique of a mop with long, messy red hair to match. "Alright, gramps." He says and let's out a grumpy sigh, but his eyes light up the second he spots Jess and Frato. "Woah! What are you two doing in a dump like this? C'mon, gimmie some details!" he demands as he dawns an apron and tends to the drunks.
Slam! A heavy mug hits the counter. A pint of Rat Tail Ale goes to Frato and the bartender passes Jess a cocktail anyways, forgetting whether he got her answer or not.
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Post by TheSeeker on Jun 2, 2017 5:38:40 GMT
Watching the newcomer arrive at the pub, Jess shrunk back a bit. She knew this individual from those among the Dragon Knights, though his name eluded her. Something with an 'F', she was certain? By the time the cocktail got to her, Jess had indeed been so baffled by the dragoon's appearance that her words died in her throat -- she was hoping for something with cherry, but the cocktail she received would have to do for now. After all, waste not want not.
She sipped the drink, enjoying the coffee-chocolate taste to it and smiling softly. Something to help her calm her nerves, both from the nostalgic flavor of the cocoa and the adult-drink alcohol itself. Canting her head to the teen, she blinked and finally spoke up, releasing the sash in her pocket which, as she was unaware of, the aqua-blue silk began to slip free from the opening as she removed her hand.
"'Details'? I'm afraid I've not much of a story, youngling. Better yet, what about yourself, hmm?" She shrugs. "Isn't it getting a smidge late to be in a place that serves liquor, or are you indeed of age? Can't tell..."
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Post by Robshi on Jun 2, 2017 13:07:01 GMT
Frato raised an eyebrow as he saw the barkeep snap to attention and offer him a drink on the house. "Eh? Oh... uh, thanks." He mumbled. Huh. I think that's a first. No-one usually does me any favours or offers me anything for free. Are Dragon Knights really that rare in here?
He then watched the younger teen emerge and serve them their drinks, and he gladly took the offered ale. "I don't know what grand tale your after. I just came in here because it was nearby. I've just gone through a tough round of training and didn't want to trudge a long way through the rain for a drink."
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Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2017 19:17:30 GMT
Having been thoroughly quashed by both patrons, the boy's eyes sink back under his messy hair. His ears slowly flatten when Jess questions his age. "I-I'm old enough! Jeez. You come in here with a nice coat and a shiny napkin draped from your pocket and it's me you're interested in?" He runs his needle-like fingers through his hair and says: "Well, if you gotta know, I'm a pauper."
"He's a bum." the barkeep mumbles.
"I keep my ear to the streets and do what needs doin'." the teen says, louder this time. "I really wanted to be a Dragoon, but, well..." he bites his lip and lets the words trail off.
The barkeep doesn't need to cut him off this time, but a grunt from his tightened muzzle shows that he wants to.
A heavy, wet belch tears through the pub just when things quiet down, followed by the thunder of projectile vomit piling onto the hay.
"I'll get the shovel..." the teen slumps off, but not before casting a longing gaze at Jess's silk sash.
The cracks of moonlight fade back into the mist, and as time passed, the heavy pounding of Burmecian rain drummed on the ceiling like a drummer's March, creating an oddly soothing white noise.
The bartender and his grandson tend to the customers mainly, even teaching them to use their newly imported dart board without poking any eyes out.
Occasionally, they check up on Jess and Frato to see if they need any drinks or snacks. The bartender covered Frato while the teen helped Jess.
"So, Urm Want anything else? Did you like the Mud Shack?" The teen asks Jess. His clothes still reek of vomit and he seems intent on standing behind right her. Maybe it's because of the crowd. "I know this sounds...weird, but your hair is really pretty. My name's Finnegan, if you haven't heard Grandpa's shouting already."
Meanwhile, the old barkeep glows as he serves his patrons, silently admiring the shine of the guard's armor. That goes double for Frato and his greatcoat carrying the royal crest.
"Soooo..." he practically slides in front of Frato from across the bar, holding another mug of ale and dangling it in front of him. "From th' look of yeh, I think I've seen yeh round before. Y'fought on North Gate at all, 1769?"
A few ears flicked toward the bartender and Frato. Some guards, some grizzled elders similar to the barkeep, but with more limbs in tact.
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Post by TheSeeker on Jun 3, 2017 21:58:40 GMT
Canting her head at his statement, the lady Jess replied, "'Shiny napkin'...? Wait. Oh. Oh!" Reaching to her pocket once more, she pulls the silk out from it. "You must mean this. 'tis a dancer's sash, actually. Goes with many of the dances I've been learning". Stuffing it back into her pocket, she chuckles, "No hard feelings meant by the age statement. I'm not good at figuring out others' ages by looks, you see".
She paused as Finnegan's grandfather remarked toward him, and her hand lingered above her bosom as he confessed his aspirations. A dragoon? She blinked, the rush of personal defeat causing her smile to fade to the beginnings of a grimace. Luckily for her, a rather loathsome job called Finnegan away from her, and with that she was able to gather her thoughts without babbling the story of her past couple years of life.
By the time the lad returned, Jess had already finished her drink. Responding to him she smiled once more, "Oh, indeed. The barkeep has a way with drinks, but what can one expect from a professional? Heheh. Wasn't expecting something called a 'mud shack' to taste as well as it did, nor am I experienced with chocolate-flavored cocktails". She shrugs. "But, if you've got a moment, I'd enjoy your company. Finnegan, was it?"
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Post by Robshi on Jun 4, 2017 23:02:11 GMT
Frato took a swig of his ale as he listened to the teen trying to defend himself. Huh? A wannabe dragon knight? I guess he didn't have the discipline or the stomach needed. He then grimaced as he heard a disgusting sound from the back and watched the young wan walk out to deal with it. Ew... now I'm starting to see why they might not get any Dragon Knights in this place.
His eyes then fell on the lady Finnegan was chatting too, and a puzzled look formed on the hybrid's face. Why do I get the feeling I know her from somewhere?
He racked his brains as he continued drinking his ale, trying to recall where he'd seen Jess, or whether he was mistaken. He thought about just asking her if they'd met when the barkeeper came back to him.
"Eh? Uh... no. I've not long since been knighted, and I wouldn't say I've been in a real battle." Frato replied. "Why do you ask? Did you fight at North Gate?"
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Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2017 18:53:32 GMT
Finnegan's ears perk like satellite dishes, as if he knew he said something to upset Jess. "Urm. Sorry." He mumbles. After returning from clean up duty, he listens to her compliments and replies, "Yes. Agnes' Spear is full of surprises. Well moreso, grandpa is. He picked up a lotta stuff in the military." The boy scratches his head when Jess compliments him. His full head of blazing red hair makes it hard to see anything behind his snout, but his tall ears flick and his nose twinges with joy.
His eyes peer around the pub, scanning over the crowd for the slightest disturbances that can force him to actually work. Luckily for him, many of the patrons have moved outside under the pub's small awning. They wait there almost like statues, looking into the occasional glimmers of rain against they gray of clouds.
The pub finally airs out. The fading pipe smoke reveals an actual ceiling as well as a few warped, smoke stained paintings of various battle recreations. The only folk around seem to be the old barkeep, Frato, and a few odd elderly types who surround them.
In the quiet of the pub, the barkeep's gravelly voice easily carried to everyone's ears. "No battles just yet?" the barkeep's heavy, gloved hand slaps Frato on the shoulder. He smiles to the hybrid with a yellowed set of choppers. "Heh heh heh! I'm real sorry, lad. I thought yeh came from a burn ward." As if predicting resistance he adds, "Not that yeh look bad er anything! Yeh would look like one of teh lucky burn survivors..." He coughs nervously. "S-sorry. Heh...I was jus' curious. It's important to keep track of war history. A lotta people don't wanna remember the price of blood it takes teh keep a great land such as this. It makes yeh humble, I think. And yah, I fought in North Wall. Few other places too. I was part of th' Burrow Rats Unit, back when that mattered." he chuckles.
A few of the elder Nezumi, who have been scoping the hybrid silently, nod and take swigs of their drinks. "I know it's weird...having an old rat like mahself bug yeh like this, but I wanna say I 'preciate what yehr doin. Thanks fer comin' into m'pub on First Harvest." He bows gently to Frato, doing his best not to strain his back. "Y'want another freebie? Please. Stay longer, Sir... Awh Gaia...Did I ferget yehr name?" The man's voice trembles. He hiccups. His breath hits Frato with the force of an entire barrel of ale. His glazed eye gives away how plastered he is.
Meanwhile, Finnegan listened intently to these soldiers. His thumbs rub anxiously together. After a while, he finally says to Jess. "I'm not very interesting or anything, b-but... may you give me a little dance lesson, please?" He asks, swallowing down the massive lump in his throat.
Just then, the Nezumi outside erupt into cheers. The bells of First Harvest--as big as church bells and draped in hundreds around the Inner City cathedral and market square like christmas lights--ring loud and true. The dedicated musicians take advantage of a wide range of rhythmic structures and tones of the bells. Tiny flickers of strange, blue candle lights from the king's castle transmit timing directions to various stations, where nezumi in thick raincoats ring each individual bell by hand to resonate through the entire Aerb Mountain inlet.
A wave of comfort washed over everyone and everything in the area, but the reverb paradoxically made everything around the pub buzz and brim with energy.
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Post by Robshi on Jun 5, 2017 23:43:47 GMT
Frato frowned as the barkeeper said he thought he'd come out of a burn ward. Do I look like I have some horrendous scars to you? Yeesh. You could've at least kept that thought to yourself instead of insulting me.
"Thanks." Frato replied sourly, before then grimacing and wrinkling his nose as he caught a whiff of the barman's breath. He then gave a sigh. "Urgh... I'll stay longer! Just give me some space will you? How much have you had to drink?"
The hybrid's own ears the pricked up as he heard the sound of the bells chiming outside. "Hrm? Sounds like something big is happening. You said this was First Harvest? Geez, I really have been wrapped up in my training."
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