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*Tick, tick, tick* The clock on the plain white wall kept ticking away with each moment, as if to tell the world you were that much closer to death. It rang in your ears insistently, tormenting Clive as he sat in the hard wood chair, waiting beside the door to the Dean’s office. It was a very familiar chair, in a very familiar little room, with an even more familiar secretary. The type of bureaucratic woman with the dangling eye-glasses chain that accented her dangling jowls, and had a personality as old and ugly has her wrinkly face. He hated that woman, how she always looked down on him like some rabble-rouser – not that she was wrong in that accusation, he earned that title, just hated how she scolded him about it like his mother.
“You may go inside now, Clive.” Her shrill voice resonated like a banshee with that snooty, high and mighty condescending tone. It made his fur stand on end. “And don’t make trouble!” That was it; she was getting a zapping on the way out. He rose from his seat and walked with annoyance for the door, opening it slowly but shutting it loudly as he entered the Dean office. Like other institutions of learning, this office had the same dark wood furniture and smelled dusty, mixed with that peculiar vacuumy smell. It was also terribly dry, how he hated terribly dry places. Trouble always followed him into dry places, fiery, shocking trouble.
“Clive, we meet again.” The Dean exclaimed, motioning for Clive to take a seat. Grudgingly, Clive obliges. He knew what he was in for, only reason he was ever called here, but the question puzzling him is what exactly they caught him doing this time. Was it zapping the Magic Ethics teacher, accidentally knocking out power to the dorms, stealing all the pickles from the stores room? So many possibilities, what is it this time. “Clive, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms, you and I.” “Psh, you can say that again, Deany.” The deans sighs, “Yes, well, as you know you are getting to that age where the academy cannot train you in the real ways of magic.” He leans forward, arms resting on the desk top, clasping one another. “It has come to the conclusion of myself and the rest of your teachers that to best continue your education that you should strike out on your own.” Puzzled, Clive raises a brow. “On my own, Deany?’ “Exactly as it sounds, we want you to go out and perfect your art. Travel the world, find that which you need to become a master of your art. Then when you have done that, come back here and show us your finesse.” Suspicious yes, but the proposal was not without merit. “So I just ‘go out and find something’? Find what and where?” “That is for you to find out, let your heart guide you. You know, all the metaphysical understanding BS we’ve been force feeding you the last ten years.” “Uh…” Tilting his head much like a confused dog, dumbfounded. “Kay…?” “Good, it’s settled, you leave now.” “Wait, what! My stuff?!” “Already packed.” The Dean stands from his desk, walks around it to vigorously shake Clive’s hand, practically pull him up from his seat. “That’s my boy, you’ll do us proud and to show you how important this trek is, my daughter will accompany you on your journey. She’s young, flirtatious and sleeps without any clothes on!”
All this was too overwhelming for Clive, the whole world around him seem to flush. He could barely compute what was happening at this moment and it all got worse when that delectable hallmark of feminine beauty floats into the room from the door, like an angel, dressed in wisps of delicate lace and silks. Like a goddess descending from heaven. Clive felt his legs grow weak, whole body quivering as she took soft steps closer, and closer, and closer till her lips were nearly pressed to his. “Clive…” She moaned out, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back as she wrapped herself around him. “Oh Clive…” *SMACK* A quick smack to the back of head, hard. “Wake up you laze-about!” *Smack*
-Reality Check-
Flailing awake, hands banging on the table as Clive suddenly shoots his head up from the table top, having been forcefully awoken by an all too familiar face, in a place that has become all too familiar these last few weeks. “Dammit, Ruby. Always when the dreams get good.” Shaking her head in disgust is a woman with sea foam green hair, in a teal and white dress. Ruby, the owner of this little theater tucked away in a back alley of Alexandria. “Oh really, who was it this time? Another harem of Cleyra maidens rubbing themselves over you? Oh, oh I know, that fantasy where you save that girl Ierys from a madman in Esthar and she falls madly in love with you.” She slaps a rag on the table beside Clive’s arm; it makes a loud, dinning smack. “Get over yourself, Clive. You’re only that suave in your dreams, here, you’re just a creep.” “Sheesh, Ruby, harsh tongue lashing there.” Clive says with a frown, and then rubs his eyes awake. “What time is it?” ”Time for you to scram before the show, I dunno why I let you sleep here.” A snide little smirk spreads across Clive’s face. “Cause deep down inside, you find me irresistible.” Ruby shudders and turns away, taking her cleaning rag with her. “Sure Clive, that’s it exactly. Just get before the patrons arrive, don’t want you scaring them away.” She departs over to the reception desk to polish its wooden surface.
Clive reclines back in the chair, knees propped up on the table’s edge, his staff resting neatly against his shoulder as he puts his hands behind his head to remember the last, faint memories of the dream. That was two years ago, when he left his little boarding school to ‘find’ whatever it was he was suppose to be seeking. Two years and he still hasn’t gotten farther than Alexandria, slow and steady win the race but at this pace he’ll be dead of old age before he even really started on his journey. Well, that was it, he’d start tomorrow, no more sitting around and dreaming about what could be or would have been; tomorrow he’d start on his trek. Smugly he grins and nods, rocking back and forth in his chair. ”If only the Dean had really let me take his daughter along… that be all the incentive I’d ever need. Ahhhh..., what a delicious ‘what-if’.”
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 1,123 Exp: 112.3
By the sound of Ruby’s voice, coupled with her clever use of certain choice words to describe the various aspects of Clive assets in a most humiliating and degrading manner, it was clear it was time for Clive to scram before he truly discovered her purpose behind brandishing such a menacing and fifty washcloth as if it was some weapon. He did not quite understand some of the words she used but their purpose was none the less clear to him, and he would not let Ruby make good on her word, and she loved to make good on her word. With a simple nod of thanks, and of course, a playful zap of static to Ruby’s posterior, Clive bolted to the street above. Up the stairs and out into the bright sun, with little more then a whistle on his lips, a song in his heart, and the theater’s last night’s earnings in his pocket. Well, not all of it, he did like Ruby but a rat has got to eat.
Once on the cobble stone street, he cracks his back using Ol’Zappy for leverage. It making loud pops from bottom to top, like a little machine gun rattling away. He shakes himself out, petting down his fur and letting a little of the sun’s warmth penetrate his body, filling him with renewed life and vigor. He tips his hat with an insincere smile to a passing noble, swooshing around them in a graceful twirl, his sneaky hand pilfering the woman’s coat in one graceful move. Trotting down the alley towards the dock, he stops to count his ill-gotten spoils… a handkerchief with a wad of gum in it, and 1 gil stuck to said gum. Well not entirely a loss, free gum is free gum. He pockets the hankie for later use.
Acquired: 1 handkerchief with used gum, + 1 gil stuck to it.
Casually, he walks to the end, past the bell tower where a moogle keeps muttering “kupo kupo” insistently, like a broken record… albeit a cute broken record. He then pushes past some younglings playing Tetra cards, making sure to kick the cards around just a little bit and shrug it off as he did not notice them there – well who plays cards in the middle of the street! It was for their safety. Now, taking a leisurely stroll on the docks he whistles to himself an upbeat tune as some posted bills on the stone shorewall catch his attention, he walks closer for a better look.
I Want To Be Your Canary, tonight! Can’t afford tickets, smell horrible, look as if you just shucked Chocobo pens, no problem! Meet on the roofs to view the show for free! Stick it to the nobles! Long live the proletariat!
“I Want To Be Your Canary? That’s a stupid name for something. What does that even mean!?” Clive scans left and right, to see if anyone was around him that could hear his ramblings to himself. “Good, no one thinks I’m mad… yet.” He steps back and ponders the prospect of seeing a play for his last night in the city. He weighed the options deeply, to see the play or to find a woman of ill repute or two. Well since he had neither the money for one woman, hardly which for two, perhaps a show might be a nice change of pace then. He takes note of the bill and carries on, turning away from it and walking onward – and nearly off the end of the dock. With a quick about face, he marches back the way he came, realizing this is a dead end with nothing but murky water before him. Water and he did not mix, best to avoid it.
Trampling back over the children’s card game, Clive gleefully carries on, past the alley which Ruby’s theater resides into the main square. Filled with life and bustling with activity as usual. There are children running back and forth in play, the unwashed masses of all sorts working and talking; nobles spitting upon them thus maintaining the order of the universe. Indeed, what a glorious society we live in where the lower-class can enjoy the oral excretions of the wealthy on a daily bases, and here they call us unwashed! With a tap-stepping dancing twirl, the staff’s lanterns spinning dangerously around nearly plastering a little girl in the face, Clive swipes an apple from a street cart as the vender’s attention was turned. He tosses it into the air, catching it with resounding purpose and bites it with determination and pride, snapping into its crisp skin and juicy center.
Checking the sun for the time, coupled with the growing hunger in his stomach that an apple would just not quench, he decided it is best to find some real food. Pity the city did not have curry, he discovered a liking for it once… yet he can’t recall where. Chicken vindaloo is his favorite yet he is at a loss as to when he ever actually ate it, now thinking back. Strange, these cases of odd cravings and weird memories and déjà vu incidents were getting more and more prevalent these last two years since leaving the school – as if he was living two lives simultaneously. Peculiar, but enough dwelling on such nonsense, time to head to the tavern down the street and partake in something hot and delicious.
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 935 Exp: 93.5 Total: 2058wc/205.8exp
Down the street to the south, past the armorer and under the archway to the long street leading eventually to the maingate, Clive meanders without much purpose. Listing as he walks, staff tapping rhythmically against the stone street. Past one house and the next, glancing a peak at into the weavers’ house that always seemed to keep her door open. What a peculiar old woman; why, he ponders, if it was not for his higher moral standing, he could just waltz on in and snag their savings from under the bed. But that was not Clive, he was not above robbing from the rich, *the rich being anyone with more gil than himself, but robbing from old ladies was just vile – mostly, some hags deserved it, but not that nice old woman. And one spot down from the weavers house is his destination, the local tavern. Wine, woman and food waited for him inside.
With bravado he burst through the double swinging doors into the excitement that assuredly was inside only to find, once his eyes adjusted, that the tavern was nearly empty say for a few winos littered about and a disgruntled bartender. *Sigh* “Oh well, make the best of it.” He mutters to himself as he walks to the bar and plops down in a stool, letting his tail hang down behind him, twitching with excitement at the prospect of food.
“Barkeep!” He called, raising his hand. The bartender was not amused. “Good sir, what nourishment do you have today!? I wish to partake of it!” The barkeep eyes him. “Clive… ye still owe me for the last three meals, what makes ye think I’ll give you another one ‘on tab’.” “Ah!” He reassures the burly man with a wave of his hand as he reaches into his pockets, bringing forth… the handkerchief. “Eck, want some gum? Here, one second.” The barkeep rolls his eyes as he takes up another glass to clean, spitting in it and rubbing it away with his apron. Clive then brings forth a few hundred gil, letting it roll ontop of the bar in a cascading crash. “There, that should cover the tab and another meal plus a pint of your warmest!” Supiciously, the barkeep eyes Clive, then the money. “Ok Clive, where ye get the gil? I don’t want to be dealing in no stolen gil, not with ye at least.” Clive scoffs. “Why would you ever think I’d stoop to such a level, I assure you that it was earned from the sweat of my brow.” The barkeep shrugs, the answer was good enough for him as he slides the money into his hand to count. “Oh and keep the change.” “Plan too.” He takes a moment to count it out, he was not going to let Clive stiff him… again. “Hey, ya little rat bastard, ye one gil short.” Without a word, Clive takes the hankie, opens it and plucks the one gil from the gum and flips it to the barkeep, before pocketing it all back up. “There you are my good sir!”
Acquired: 1 handkerchief with used gum.
Once the gil was away, the bartender returns to Clive, resting his meaty arms on the countertop to take the cheeky rat’s order. “The soup is Oglop Surprise, all we got ye can afford.” ”What’s the surprise?” “Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told ye, would it now?” “Touche to that, alright, hit me.” The bartender raises his fist as if about hit Clive, to which Clive recoils back in possible anticipation. The bartender laughs at Clive’s expense before walking off to get his food. ”Sheesh, what oglop got up his bum.”
Spinning around in his seat to face the rest of the bar and doors, he reclines back against the bar. Arms and legs wide as he slouches comfortably, taking in the sights around him. Such sights as the passed out old man in the corner, or the drifter with his back to the wall facing the door, and most importantly, last night’s blood and vomit stains on the walls, that being the truest mark of a truly great tavern. He continued to watch as he waited, out of boredom or contemplation, Clive couldn’t decide. Only being drawn back to the bar as the bartender smacked down his warm pint behind him, to which Clive gladly partook of with a long and deep sip. “Ahhh, this is how to start your morning.”
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 759 Exp: 75.9 Total: 2817wc/281.7exp
After several long, hungry minutes, sipping from his pint casually as he takes in the tavern seen, his soup finally arrives with a sloppy slide in front of Clive by the barkeep. With glee, Clive spins around to face his much anticipated meal and finds before him a strangely colored, like a creamy orange, liquid that smells faintly of anise and squash – odd combination perhaps but food is food. He takes up the spoon and dives into the milky orange liquid. Only when he raises the spoon to his muzzle does he notice something peculiar. The soup moves and bubbles in a way not normal to something hot, and then it becomes clear what the surprise was. His spoon shakes, eyes darting to it where upon he finds a disgruntled looking Oglop staring back at him. It shakes itself off, spraying Clive in the face with soup, springs up on the spoon and dives back down into the soup with a tiny splash, where other Oglops swim around to greet their friend.
Struck dumb for a moment, Clive cannot comprehend what to make of his ‘surprise’. He blinks, wipes away the dribble of soup from his fur and shirt, and then shrugs it off. “Going to have to be quicker, I guess.” He figures and without further delay, dives back into his soup, greedily consuming it with large spoonfuls, bugs or not. Several minutes later, and a couple of Oglops consumed, the soup runs empty except for one Oglop that struggles to escape the slippery bowl. “Hah!” Clive mocks, “Can’t get away now, come, let you join your friends inside me!” Tossing his spoon aside, he reaches in with his hand to snatch up the squirming bug, but its slippery soup stained exoskeleton proves too greasy to grab and the bug shoots out from between his fingers onto the bartop and bounces away with a *gwok*. “Hey! Get back here!” He dives for the bug, hands reaches out to snag it. “I paid for you! You’re mine!”
It jumps from hand to hand, while Clive struggles in vain to reclaim his fleeing property, knocking bar stools away as he gives chase. The insects finesse and mongoose like agility is impressive, same as its showmanship. Once it reached the end of the bar, it turned to bow to the lumbering Clive gaining fast. “That’s it!” Clive flings a finger toward the Oglop, there’s a crack followed by an arch of electricity shooting straight at it. The zap strikes it, there’s a fizzing sound, and a very black and smoking Oglop slumps over on the bar, legs twitching in the air. “Hah! Victory is mine!” Boasting with pride, Clive walks over to the Oglop and snatches it up from the bar and pops it into his mouth – then cringes and spits it out. “Gah! Burnt…*sigh*” Disappointed, the crestfallen Clive shuffles back to his barstool to partake in the last of the bitter. He downs it quickly, washing away the bitter taste of the burnt bug before slumping over the bar, propping his head up with his arm as he fiddles with the empty soup bowl.
“Enjoy ye surprise?” The snarky barkeep asks as he takes the empty glass and bowl from before Clive, setting it down behind the bar to be ‘cleaned’. “Oh very much so! Nothing like fighting for your food. Makes a man feel alive.” The barkeep chuckles as he turns returns back to his less then sanitary cleaning. Clive continues to sulk, just slightly, while his head looks around the tavern as he contemplates what to do now. Eaten… check, drank… check, assaulted an Oglop… check, now what is there to do in a day? As he ponders this dilemma, a very crispy and spittle soaked little Oglop on the floor behind the bar-counter slowly crawls away, vowing one day to take revenge upon his Burmecian assailant.
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 666 Exp: 66.6 Total: 3483wc/348.3exp
Checking his wrist at the watch that is not there, Clive comes to the conclusion that it is time he should head out before the barkeep’s generosity wears thin and he discovers the burly man’s shoes size from the inside. Sliding from the bar, waving a salute to the barkeep he makes for the door, blowing through it into the afternoon sun. He nods to a few passer-bys that he nearly bumped into from charging through the door blindly. Twirling around them and back up the street towards the mainsquare, Clive rummages his hand in his pockets to count his gil. He realizes that in order to begin on his journey to nowhere, he will need some aids. Death was not Clive’s idea of productive, he considers himself far too good looking and young to die, especially messily – that would just be a crime against the world, Clive’s world. Better start at the apothecary, pick up a few potions for the journey.
Through the street, past the expectorating nobles and the masses that bask in their afternoon showers, Clive trots up the stairs to the local apothecary. Once inside the herb, chemical, and incense smelling store he goes about examining the merchandise upon the shelves and tables. There are a few hi-potions, regular potions, Ethers, one random Mallet which perplexes Clive as to its purpose. The rest is the typical fair found at any apothecary around the globe. He checks the prices, hundred gil for a potion, hundred and fifty for hi-potions… thousand gil for Ethers! Clive jumps in disbelief. “Cripes!” He exclaims in shock. “What gives, robbing everyone blind with those prices? Seriously…” The apothecary behind the counter just shrugged and went back to reading her book. Clive’s shifty eyes take note of this and with a slight of hand, pockets a Ether. ”Oh, crafty Clive.” He smugly mutters to himself as he returns to his regular shopping. A few potions, hi-potion, and a couple of echo screens later, he walks to the counter to purchase. Soon, his pockets were empty of gil, but teaming with items.
Back out into the daylight, Clive nods with confidence that he is now prepared for the journey ahead. He stands atop the stairs for a moment, contemplating his next course of action. It was still too early to head for the rooftops and there was little of interest happening around here. He waits a few more moments, until his attention is drawn to a town squire shouting the daily news. Casually, Clive approaches behind the crowd gathering around to listen.
”The attack against Sin has begun in Spira, forces have been deployed in order to stop the creature’s advance into Luca. In Doma, the siege wages on, causality estimates have not come in…”
That is all Clive could stand, news is so depressing and everything was so far away, why bother to care. Least it wasn’t him involved, not that he would want to be involved. How big was this ‘Sin’ that is needed an army to take down. Bet it’s ugly too, and smells rank. With those passing thoughts, Clive returns back to the alley which houses Ruby’s theater, past there and back onto the back street that parallels the bell tower. Now there are little signs plastered on the walls, telling the locals where to go to get a decent viewing of the show. Up the bell tower, across the roofs, follow the signs and you’re there. Or so the signs claimed. Clive shrugged, it was getting to be the evening and with nothing else to do. From the look of the square he just left, the nobles were already on their way to the show, to mingle and drink, talk of politics and their newest jewels and hedge funds. Such drab, uninteresting people they are, never living life except on the coattails of another, even more influential man or woman. Sad, sad little people. With the other unwashed masses now converging around, heading up the tower to the roof, Clive decides it is time for himself to partake in the night’s festivities and make for the roofs above.
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 720 Exp: 72.0 Total: 4203wc/420.3exp
"Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to look out for."
The sun began to set over Alexandria, its last fleeting rays spreading over the water and reflecting off the gilded silver sword ornament protruding from the center of Alexandria castle. The birds flutter over the city for the last time today, flying to their nooks and holes where they hide their nests from the world. And as the sun shined its last light for the day, Clive hopped from rooftop to rooftop, snaking by mismatched people as he jockeyed for a better spot on the roofs to see the show soon to commence. After a fair bit of traveling, till the buildings neared the castle walls where one can watch the castle stage, Clive finally finds a spot to get comfortable amongst the other peasants. He sits down between two human ladies, of course. Perhaps, he thinks to himself, this just might be alright after all. He plays it cool for now, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the roof as he relaxes.
The girl to his left gossips with a larger woman behind her, a very hideous larger woman. Clive shudders just ever so slightly upon glancing at the behemoth female, even the hippopotami people weren’t that horrible. He questions the strength of the roof with that girl resting upon it. Surely it couldn’t hold with her and the rest, but moving would be giving up this seat between two very fine ladies. Damn it all, he will stay, no matter what may happen to the roof. Perhaps it’ll collapse and the two will land right atop him. That’ll make it all worth it. With the other girl occupied, he decided to strike up a conversation with the lady to his right. “I’ve always wanted to see this play. What about you? Hear it’s great.” The girl looks up, turning her head, slightly confused. Clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to her. “Oh,” She smiles and nods. “I saw it once when I was little, don’t remember it very well though. Hear this is a good adaptation of the Tantalus production. One second.” She turns away, twisting around to look behind her, arm raised. “Oliver! Here!” She calls and waves. A moment later, a man comes over, weaseling through the crowd till he can sit beside the girl. He wraps her arm around her and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. She giggles, much to Clive’s chagrin. She looks back to Clive, asking him if he said something, he says no and looks away. Defeated again and with fatzilla back there still chatting it up with the other girl, he just continued to sit, sulking at his rotten luck.
After a good half an hour, the stage still quiet with its curtain down and the moons now high in the sky acting as the only source of light aside from the soft white glow of the lamps around the nobles’ stands and Clive’s own lanterns of blue, and Clive was beginning to grow restless with the wait. How much longer, he thought. All this waiting for a play he didn’t even know existed till a few hours ago. He wasn’t even sure if he’d like it and secretly he hoped some of the female actors were decent enough eye-candy to keep his mind occupied with thoughts more interesting then a silly play. Then just when things were beginning to seem unbearable, the waiting having since grown long old, a man in a fine suit walks on stage to greet the audience.
“Our Queen, Nobles, and rooftop viewers-“
With a bit of life back inside him, Clive straightens up. “Finally, was getting worried.” He mutters; delighted things were starting to get rolling after all this waiting, in the growing cold of the night, stuck between all these people. He adjusts himself, getting more comfortable for the performance ahead.
“We now bring you I Want To Be Your Canary!”
Applause erupt around him, cheers and jeers, as the curtain finally rises on the first scene of the show. All Clive, however, can think about is how stupid that title is. Seriously, who comes up with that? Does it have to do with coal mining or ornithology? What was the meaning of it, this question puzzled Clive to no end and assuredly would haunt him for several days if the play doesn’t give him a straight answer itself.
On stage, a beautiful woman walks on stage. Perhaps, Clive reassures himself, this might not be so bad after all.
Cornelia: “Marcus?” A man clad in a black cloak, complete with black hood, walks on stage as Cornelia approaches him. “Sweet Marcus, I fear I love thee more than I should!” Marcus: “Princess... Wilt thou be happy, married to a lowly peasant such as I?” Cornelia: “Prithee, call me 'princess' no more! Marcus, wilt thou truly cherish me, the king's only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for!? After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet, never to laugh, never to cry? I wish to live my life under the sky. At times I shall laugh, at other times cry. For no life is more insincere than that lived as a masquerade.” Marcus: “So much consideration thou hast given it! But worry not!” The two actors embrace then, “Cast away thy trappings of royalty, and I shall swaddle thou in a gown of pure love! Never again will I part from thee! Pray, my love, make me thy canary to keep forever in the cage of thy bosom! Let us embark on the first ship tomorrow, before dawn can tell of our elopement!” Cornelia: “All my fortunes at thy foot, I lay, and I shall follow thee throughout the world!” Marcus: “No cloud, no squall shall hinder us!” Marcus turns around and walks off stage quickly.
Clive can’t help but roll his eyes at this display, specially that last line. How cheesy Marcus is being, he will never get in the sack with Cornelia using those lines. He could learn a thing or two from Clive about pickup lines, or so he told himself.
Blank: “…Good day to ye, Highness.” Cornelia: “Good day…” Blank: “Wist thee of Marcus?” Cornelia: “Marcus!? What news dost thou bring.” Blank: “This!” He punches her in the stomach, causing her to fall into his arms, and black out.
Clive cringes then grins with perverted delight. She taps the woman on his left, the one who had been talking to the whale. “See that, he totally like donkey punched her there.” The woman looks at him, completely unamused and quite annoyed. “Pig.” She exclaims, followed promptly by a slap across the face. “Gah!” Rubbing his cheek, Clive returns to watching the play, pretending the slap never happened. With the end of that scene, another round of applause, the next scene transitioned in.
A man, the king, walks on stage. King Leo: “Where is she!? Where has mine daughter gone!?” Blank walks on stage next. “Blank, good man! Hast thou seen Cornelia? Blank: “Worry not, Majesty. I shall make sure Cornelia marries Prince Schneider. Be thou at ease.” King Leo: “At ease sayest thou? How can I rest, not know she is safe? Could it be... thou hast betrayed me?” Blank: “By my troth, sir, I betrayed none other than poor Marcus.” King Leo: “Thou had the gall to betray thy dearest friend. Would thou not betray me as swiftly?” Blank: “Stay thy hand, I merely…” King Leo draws forth his sword and stabs Blank. Blank falls to the floor, dying, as King Leo turns and walks coldly away.
“Oh, kingy doesn’t mess around, does he?” Clive mutters to himself, loud enough to illicit a ‘shh’ from the couple at his right.
Benero: “O, cruel fate!” King Leo: “You two… quickly, find Cornelia and bring her before me!” Benero and Zenero: “Yes, Your Majesty.” The two quickly exit. King Leo: “Wretched daughter! How dare she disobey her father’s wishes!” Then the stage blacks out.
Another uproarious applause from all crowds present, Clive merely claps slowly and hard. Not really sure what is happening anymore in this play but least it had stabbing and girls.
The scene starts up at dawn, with Marcus standing alone on stage. Marcus: “The time for our departure is long past. Where is Cornelia?”
Yes, Clive wonders, where is Cornelia? This needs the eye candy back before he gets anymore antsy for it to end. Though in his distracting thoughts, Clive returns back to the play in the middle of dialog.
“…Speak, Marcus! She told me that she could not live without me.” A section of the sky lights up; several pictures of birds flying appear. “So, the sun is our enemy, too. The eastern sky grows bright. Will we not spread our wings, as yonder birds in joyous flight?” A loud sound is heard, as the ship departs, “Hark, Marcus! They cannot wait any longer! The ship departs!” Marcus: “Could she have betrayed me? Nay, ne'er would my love speak false. I must have faith! She shall appear if I only believe! As the sun lends me no ear, I pray instead to the twin moons! I beseech thee, wondrous moonlight, grant me my only wish!” Marcus walks over to King Leo, Benero and Zenero, meeting them for battle with his sword drawn. Two others enter, accompanied by Blank and rally behind Marcus
Clive sighs, now he is really lost. Didn’t Blank die already? How is he back, and who are those other two and why are they backing Marcus. This plot has more holes than a victim of a 1000 Needles attack. Oh a sword fight! Clive watches with childlike glee at the mock sword fight, the jumps, thrusts, sweeps, strikes and an occasional fall. Not badly choreographed, relatively convincing even. Finally, this play was worth the money he didn’t have to spend on it. Delightful!
King Leo: “Arg... Grrr ... Thou hast not seen the last of me, Marcus!” Quickly the king shuffles away from the battle. The one whose name Clive didn’t catch, gives chase against the king, but is confronted by Blank. ????: “Out of my way, Blank!” Blank: “Consider this! If Prince Schneider were to marry Princess Cornelia, peace would reign over both their kingdoms!” ????: “T'is foolishness! If all were so easy, why, none would suffer in this world!” Both race up the stairs and begin dueling, Blank then jumps from the balcony and lands in aisle amongst the Nobles. Soon the two are engaged in further combat, embraced in an epic sword duel. The battle wages on only to end in a disappointing draw.
“Gah, what a tease. Well, least this finally got interesting, hope someone else dies…” Clive mentions, talking to himself as he waits for the next scene to begin. Meanwhile, atop a nearby chimney, lays in wait is a dark foe, scanning the crowd for their target with nefarious intent. Their beady white eyes piercing through the darkness like a wolf emerging from the woods. Soon, their eyes come to rest upon their intended target sitting on the edge, the blue light emanating from the victims staff is like a beacon shining through the fog, guiding ships to harbor. The dark assassin sets his sights and prepares for the preemptive strike.
Clive’s ears perk up, twitching to a familiar yet strange sound. He looks around for its source, it’s slowly getting closer yet he cannot make out from where it approaches. Curiously, he looks to the woman and her boyfriend. “You hear that, it’s… kinda like a ‘gewk’ sound or maybe a… a- dear gods, its-“ *GWOK GWOK GWOK!* (Sic Semper Tyrannis, in Oglop speak.)
Suddenly, a blackened Oglop pounces upon Clive, belting him in the head like a mad berserker. It runs through his hair, under his hat, over his goggles, in his ear canal and through his fur. Clive jumps up and runs his hands over his head, trying to smash the bug. Like a crazed maniac doing some ritualistic, spasmodic dance, Clive runs around, toppling over others in the audience. He whacks a few with his staff, and even hits himself with the lanterns as he tries desperately to crush this vengeful Oglop. “Get off! Get it off!” The Oglop has now managed to squirm its way into Clive’s clothes, under the shirt where it bites and terrorizes his skin and fur. Jumping and staggering, concerned with stopping the insect before it got to more sensitive regions, fails to notice that he is now dancing dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop. And when the Oglop finds one of those sensitive spots on his chest, it dives in with a strong bite. With a loud yelp, Clive jumps up, his feet landing on the edge of the rooftop , toes and claws trying to grip in vane the red tile, but its all for not. He slips and falls, flapping his arms the whole way down and comes crashing beside the stage, staff and all - which of course, comes down upon her head.
There’s a sudden gasp from the crowds as they watch the fall, many standing from their seats to get a better view of the interruption. Clive, once the initial daze has worn off, staggers back to his feet, sore and bruised. It then becomes apparent that his Oglop assassin has already recovered and has begun again his attack. Repeating his crazed dance, Clive runs across the stage, flailing about. He pushes past the actors, knocking over King Leo and pushing Blank off the stage. “Oh god! Oh gods!” He yells, pleading. “Help me!” Desperately cries out for anyone to help him with his Oglop tormentor. Continuing in his flailing he runs past the stage, through the aisle between the nobles, smacking many of them with his staff’s lanterns, till he somehow manages to find himself inside the castle grounds. There, he finally snags the Oglop and throws it to the ground. Panting heavily, hands on his legs as he leans over to catch his breath, he looks over to the bug. “What the hell was that all about!?”
The Oglop jumps up and down. *Gwok gwok*. It even appears to shake one of its many legs at Clive, as if it was a scolding arm raised into the air. the creature was clearly agitated.
“What the hell is your problem…” Clive then notices the unusual blackness to its body, that faint familiarity. “Wait… you’re that one from th-“ *Gwok* It jumps up then quickly turns away and bounds off, disappearing behind a wall.
Confused, bruised, sore, lost, and slightly irked that he was just molested by a bug, Clive attempts to collect himself. He looks around, scanning his unfamiliar surroundings. There are stone walls, fancy carpet, chandeliers and marble stairs, a hallmark of wealth and luxury. This could only be one place, and only one place and this place is somewhere he should not be, not in the least. “Awww… crap…” He moans out. “The castle…”
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 2,533 Exp: 253.3 Total: 6736wc/673.6exp
It really was grand castle, almost out of a fairytale in its appearance it would obviously be amazing to live here, but you knew that this was the last place you wanted to get cuaght wandering around aimlessly since you'd probably be mistaken for a criminal.
"Sheesh old Rusty is such a spoil sport"
You heard a voice from around the corner the oglop had vanished, the voice was also accompanied by the sound of rattling metal, Armour, the voice was male so if you knew anything about Alexandria's castle you where about to get spotted by the local joke the Pluto Knights.
"Hey! Hey what!? you!?"
You heard him shout before he sudden scream and a loud crash as he obviously falls to the ground, a few seconds later you see the Oglop poke around the corner and jump up and down excitedly before running out of sight again. A couple of seconds later you could hear two sets of foot prints running up the corridor
"Huh?! Hey someones down!?, Quick go look around whoever did this should still be around"
Before you could move a woman in heavy armour rushes around the corner, glaring at you she raises her sword at you.
Just my luck, the guards were about, falling about but about none the less. Clive quickly assesses the situation and looks frantically for a way out. He could go back, but that’s just walking into a corner and he’d probably just end up making himself look more the fool, also it’s hard to hide when all of Alexandria is watching you. Straight ahead there is a marble staircase leading up to another level – he didn’t want to go higher, that was certain. Past the stairs, there is a hallway leading to the right, from which the sounds were coming from, that place was no go and straight ahead there is a large portrait of the queen in what appears to be a another room, that’s where he’ll go.
"Huh?! Hey someones down!?, Quick go look around whoever did this should still be around"
Before you could move a woman in heavy armour rushes around the corner, glaring at you she raises her sword at you.
"Hey you stay right there!?"
“Eep!” Clive jumps, damn that Oglop causing more trouble. What bastard brings the guards on you, that bug is craftier than he’d ever would of thought. Clive looks around, as if wondering who the woman was referring to, then points to himself. “Oh, me? Hah, you seem to have the wrong person, they just ran… out… BLIND!” A black cloud envelops over the woman’s eyes. “Hasta luego!”
With a rattle, the ratty rushes past the woman for the area straight ahead, where the large painting is. A moment later, he finds himself in a two story room, with a stairs across the gap. He stands on the second level, left and right it circles around the room with two rooms – one on each side. Clive quickly checks behind, to where the knight is, then back to the room. “Gah, left… or right?” No time to think, over the railing. He jumps over the rail, landing on the first level of the palace with all the grace of a jumping spider. Burmecian genetics shine through again, like to see those metal laden soldiers try that... and that thought brings him back to that woman he blinded. She was kinda cute, if she wasn't trying to stabbith him, he could try and make that work. Pity, it seems his luck has run dry here in Alexandria with the ladies. Enough of those thoughts though, time to get out of here. There, an exit to the east. In a run, he darts for archway, bounding through without a thought.
Inside, he finds a banquet hall stacked high with food. Almost immediately upon sight of this delicious feast, he mouth waters. "Oh yes... JACKPOT!" Without care or warrant for hygiene, Clive dives into a chaffing dish of some saucy food. Bits of cream sauce flying around as he consumes it greedily. That is until a tiny chef pops out from the kitchen in the back.
"Youv! Get away from tvere!" The tiny chef yells, jumping up and down in anger. Clive looks up from his meal, messy grin on his muzzle. "Hi there...! Got to go!" Breaking away from the table, he darts back out the archway he come from into the large rotunda. "Now where...?"
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 545 Exp: 54.5 Total: 7281wc/728.1exp
A cold voices says as you dart out, only an instant later would you notice the gaunlet flying towards your face which knocks you back into a wall hard, It then grabs your throat tightly and pulls you upto to face a stoney faced man, a little portly but he had an air of dignity about him and maybe some arrogance too.
"We do not look kindly on people who steal the queen and the princesses food, nor the food of their honoured guests"
The man continues to glare at you, if you knew anything about the knights of Pluto youd recognise that he was their captain and probably the only man in the knights that was serious and at least half able. You could see his sword with sheathed though and you might have noticed he didn't know about the assualt you'd been framed for yet.
"Hold up, sir, If I could the poor boy looks rather stringy I doubt he has eaten for a while"
You saw a small woman rush out from the room you had been in, she had long brown hair and a very girlish face, if you spent a moment to watch her walk you noticed there seemed to be a confident stride to her step even for her small and meek looking form.
"I understand what he has done was insulting, but could you let him off for me? I'll take the blame from the queen later if you really want someone to pay"
She asks of him, her arms crossed infront of her chest while she smiled sweetly, it was a smile that was well practiced, probably one of her key weapons too as the stoney face knight sighed and let go of you.
"Fine, since you are the queens honoured guest I'll let him off, but get him out of the castle now!?"
The woman smiles and nods her head as you are released from his grip, she then walks over to you and grabs your arm and starts to drag you down the corridor. She quietly speaks to you as your dragged down the corridor.
"Look kid, you owe me now so just be calm and follow me out peacefully"
Clive could hardly believe it, he was actually caught, and caught by a walking tin-man. This was so extraordinary; no one has caught the weasely little Clive before – unless he wanted to be caught. And who was this rusty toy-soldier calling a scoundrel!? Loveable rogue maybe, but scoundrel was such a harsh word with such negative connotations. A snippet of a little thought passes through his head then; could he call police brutality on this dink? This constricting vice around his neck cannot be acceptable use of force.
Through a chocking, constricted mouth, Clive tries to speak. “Jus- was on- the... tour!” He thinks quickly, there had to be a way out of this. The man was wearing nothing but deliciously conductive metal, a good zap would make him throw Clive away like the live wire he is. “Ligh- Huh?” Just then, before he could finish his foolish idea, a woman appeared. A very confident woman, Clive liked that. Woman with confidence and knew how to manipulate the situation for her advantage, namely manipulate men. There was always something strangely appealing about that type of personality for Clive, he liked where this was going. Liked it a lot, perhaps not all was lost tonight.
Upon his release, Clive plops to the ground and immediately massages his neck. It was going to be sore for a whole, that much was apparent but he didn’t have time to think about it, as the mysterious savior took it upon herself to drag him out of there – probably a good idea.
“Ok, ok, ok.” He says as he stumbles along with her. “Names Clive, by the way. Thanks.” Play it cool Clive, wait till you’re home free before you say anything that’s going to get you sent back with Mr. Rustoleum’s strangling hands. He then realized that she has made a slight folly, of course how would she know; already the static was building in his fur around the arm which she grabbed. The strange aura it gives off should already start to become just faintly apparent to the mysterious woman. “Uhhh,” He slurs out. “Don’t take offense but-“ He rips his arm away from her grip just before a burst of electricity arch over his entire arm. “Woooh.” He sighs. “Sorry, it happens when I’m stressed and being touched and didn’t need another segment to my series of unfortunate events today.” He continues down the corridor with her, slightly awkward, slightly confused. “Mind me asking where we’re going and why you wanted to save me from the tin-man back there?”
----------------------------------------------- Word Count: 427 Exp: 42.7 Total: 7708wc/770.8exp
"I'm taking you to the castle gates becuase you where about to hit that man, who is wearing a coral ring I gave him, with a thunder spell."
She looks to him and grins faintly, holding up a lone finger.
"Which for one, would have put you straight into the castle dungeons, where he would of learn't you assualted another guard a little while ago and you'd of then been given the death sentence, which you would of attempted to flee from only to be killed in the ensuing escape attempt by a single shot through the head by none other than me"
She then smiles still leading him along the corridors, taking lefts and rights with out stopping to think so it took less than five minutes for them to be stood at the main entrance and once in the main halls she holds up two fingers and then lets out a low whistle
"Two becuase I don't like killing people who didn't really like doing anything wrong in the first place. Finally I guess becuase I was asked to keep you out of trouble in Alexandria at least until you found out where your destiny lay"
She then pushes you out of the main doors and kicks you in the ass moving you along quickly before she tosses a small bag of gil your way.
"Enjoy the town a bit more, this time not as a pickpocket and I'll see you around lighting rod"
She says grinning faintly holding in one of her hands most of the items you had stolen later, she then waves you off and noticed a small ring on her middle finger as she waved.
Clive stared on like a confused puppy as the woman spoke, smitten with her but otherwise clueless as to what exactly was happening to him. Not that Clive ever minded this state of being, he routinely found himself in it, for some reason he always got caught up in something bigger then him and never, ever is given a straight answer as to what really was going on. As she explained the situation, Clive felt liking kicking himself. He forgot about coral rings, those dastardly things. His bordering school had made them a requirement for facility entirely because of him – good thing they cost the school a lot of money.
“Hey what you mean my destiny!?” Clive begs of the forceful woman as she kicked his ratty butt out the door. He stumbles down the stone steps, his own lanterns knocking him in the head, throwing his cap to the ground. He rubs his cranium and bends down to pick it up, dusting it off by slapping it against his leg. He turns around then, to protest but gazes awestruck that his times had been snagged. ”But-but-but!” He stuttered out, but by then, the woman had departed, leaving him alone to head back into the city. “I didn’t even steal the potions!” He protests in vane. He also holds up the handkerchief. “And this! Hah, didn’t get this!” Sheepishly he pockets the handkerchief with gum in it. “Thanks…!”
Wandering back to the city, still slightly confused but thankful he won’t be spending it in a dungeon; he strolls back to the main square. He wasn’t sure, but he felt he’d spent enough time in this fair city, and once Ruby found out about him taking a little off the top of the theater’s revenue and that is when a small little billet about a vessel departing tomorrow morning, looking for passengers. He ponders for a moment, then decides without much more concern, that this will be the start of his journey. Now he just had to wait a few more hours till tomorrow came.
"Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to look out for."
The city was alive this afternoon, you could see many nobles now heading back to their hotels and homes, but many of the normal people where heading to the pubs and bars with plans to celebrate, maybe you'd better find somewhere to rest for the night or a bar to party at for the night
Clive pondered what to do next, so many choices that didn't involve pestering Ruby once more. He could head back to the bar, enjoy another Oglop soup... no, he already had one deranged Oglop after him, he didn't need another. Besides, bugs were getting old. He wanted something tastier and more classy. A bowl of bugs was neither of those - though the slight peppery taste of Oglop oil mixed and seasoned well did add that little extra punch to any food, it was growing old. Well, enough standing around here, that mysterious lady had given him a new lease on life, lets see how long it lasts before he messes it up again. He realized what he had to do again, he needed more potions.
Trotting back to the same store he stole the Ether from, he enters sheepishly this time. Of course, someone like Clive always stood out, least in a city like Alexandria, his kind were common. Outer regions or other countries, he got more stares than a one legged midget wearing a sombrero riding on a motorcycle driven by a certain homicidal clown in a bikini. Guess they just couldn't handle Clive in all his furry glorious. Inside the store, Clive grabbed a few more potions to replace the ones that were taken from him and legitimately purchased them. He couldn't be blamed for stealing this time.
Lost: : 500gil Acquired: 2 potions, 1 Hi-Potion
Back out on the street, he came to the conclusion that he could go for another drink. Something classy and upscale compared to those warm stouts he was so use too. They did taste pretty damn horrible but did their job well. Now was to try for something a little stronger and tastier, so he returned back to the tavern with his favorite bar tendering. That lovable block of meat whose name he still hasn't learned. Inside, the bar tender groaned upon seeing Clive return. Clive just waved smugly back and took a seat at the bar counter.
The tavern was busier then it had been when he was in her earlier, a few more people, a few more drunks and the din was greater as people yelled and talked loudly. Clive didn't mind it so much, just had to keep his ears tucked to reduce the sound. He wondered how humans and other humanoids put up with this much noise - but the thought was only in passing as he ordered.
"One pint of your strongest liquor!" Clive commanded, "In a moderately dirty glass!" The beefy bartender just chewed his teeth and sent a spit wad into a glass before wiping it with a very nasty rag. "Clive, you don't have money, unless you suddenly became the King of Alexandria." Clive brightens up, "Ah but I did my loyal subject!" He takes the gil pouch from his pocket and slaps it on the counter. "So king me, barkeep!" Curious and wary, the barkeep poked the pouch. Clive was right about one thing, he did indeed have money in there, a fair share of it. "Alright, whatever you say your majesty." Sarcastically he snarls.
Moment later, Clive is given a pint of some top shelf whiskey by the pint. By the time the rat finished this, he was going to be well on his way to the floor and he was most excited for that. Very, very excited. He tossed the barkeep the 200 gil for the drink, and 10 for the tip. With eagerness, Clive brought the fire water to his lips and took a large gulp, the first of many. This was going to be a very interesting night.
Lost: 210gil Acquired: Several points of inebriation.
----------------------------------------- Word Count: 625 Exp: 62.5 Total: 8688wc/868.8exp
It must have been midnight before anything exciting happened in the bar beyond the few drunken arguements quickly settled by the Barman's strong arm or the city watch, however at midnight something happened, the door flew open and a messenger ran into the bar. He looked half exhausted and collapsed into a chair.
"Drink! Barman Drink!"
He shouts, the barman raising an eye and pouring him a strong ale, slamming it down infront of the man.
"What news do you bring then?"
He asks watching the messenger down the pint in one go before looking at the barman, you would catch the fear in his eyes before he spoke.
"The Galbadian's won against Shin-Ra, there was a demon on the field... he held back most of Shin-Ra's finest alone, took out one of their best too"
The Barman looked shocked to hear this, news had only circulated last week in Alexandria that Galbadia had successfully taken ground on the Midgar continent from the first battle.
"Shin-Ra hit the Galbadian's in the middle of the night and lost... I was dispatched by SeeD to relay the message to other countries and to warn that the Sorceress would most likely go for them too"
The Messenger said before calling for another pint, seems like Gaia was going down into a dark and dangerous road.
Last Edit: Dec 18, 2009 16:47:47 GMT by Demon Lord
The early night went by quickly for Clive, with a blur of booze and activity – and the occasional slap from a bar wench or tipsy girl. With his new found wealth, Clive was living the high-life, so to speak, sipping away gil with the best booze he could afford, because life is too short for cheap liquor. Pint after pint, shot after shot, the booze kept flowing down Clive’s gullet and before long he was having trouble staying on his bar-stool. His ears pressed against his head, tail tightly wound around the stool-leg, eyes droopy and spinning, hand running through his hair and slapping his cap onto the table as he rubs his eyes and runs his fingers along the length of his muzzle till he exhales in a sigh of drunken queasiness. He loved the booze but the booze didn’t love him.
Around midnight, Clive reckons but not that it mattered, a disheveled messenger ran into the bar begging for a drink. Clive shakeningly turned to watch this new patron explode into the room, but turned casually back around once satisfied that it wasn’t that Oglop that had it out for him – blasted bug. The panting man asked for a pint and downed it instantly – the guy had skill, grant him that, and the barkeep certainly seemed interested in what he was about to say next. The affairs of this world, always a war or demon or evil power or rogue factions stirring trouble, couldn’t they all just leave well enough alone?
The running man goes into a mostly interesting tale of Galbadians and ShinRa and their feud, over what Clive didn’t know nor did he care. He heard about this earlier, along with talk of a battle with Sin – whatever that was, while he was cruising the town. All this talk of war, destruction, chaos, all it meant to Clive was that someone somewhere was going to get righteous and try to save the world. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at such a notion, a goodie-two shoes going around with a gang of misfits that will somehow save us all from ourselves. He heard the story at least twelve times before, if not more – it was a dull story. However, there was something not completely dull about the messenger’s story, which was the fact he had another pint coming and Clive didn’t feel like paying for another one himself. Clive turned to face the man, getting up from his stool, nearly stumbling and approaches the man.
“You! Yes you!” He slurs out, his nose flaring. “Tell-Tell me more of this… battle! Yes battle. Who… whose this sorceress?” Clive comes up upon the man, his hand on the guys back – very friendly. “What-what can a lowly ratty such as I do to help?” The barkeep smacked down the pint beside the messenger, but before the man can grab the glass in his hand, Clive distracts him. “Here, lets-lets talk more at a table. Kay?” Before the man could object, Clive was already ushering the messenger away from the bar counter, snagging the pint. “I got this for you.” As Clive strongly suggests they move to a nearby table, nearly pushing the man along in front of him, Clive is sure to snag a few long gulps of pint in the process.
---------------------------------------------- Word Count: 569 Exp: 56.9 Total: 9257wc/925.7exp
"Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to look out for."
"I'll let you have that one mate, but seriously don't snag a man's pint"
The messenger says firmly before shaking you off and ordering another drink before sitting back down at the bar, his back facing you as he sips his drink. Behind you came more footsteps and the woman you had met earlier on in the day walked to the bar and took up a seat next to the messenger, handing him an envelope before patting him on the back, they seemed to talk for several minutes while the messenger finished his drink before he heads upstairs most likely to a room to sleep. The woman then spins around to face you and is wearing a big smile on her blonde face.
"Tell me, what do you know about heroes my drunk little rat faced friend?"
She asks gently as two drinks where poured and places next to her, however she didn't take a sip at all.
Clive watched the seen unfold, feigning some curious. He was somewhat taken back that the messenger had noticed his little subtle move, but then again, Clive was so far sauced that he could figure himself a god and believe it. There she was again though, like a strange little nag that popped up right when things were about to turn sour, a useful nag, one that kept you alive but still peeved you enough that a part of you wished it would just go away so you can make your own mistakes. She speaks to him, though his hearing has now long since tunneled and vision was heavy, he could hear her well enough.
“Heroes!” Clive slurred out, practically spinning in his seat. “If evvery…boDy wAs sat…isfied with-with himself… therE would be Noo heroes. One… sec…” With a droopy hand and head, he turns back to the bar and demands a glass of water. Begrudgingly, the bartender serves Clive a glass of very, very dirty tap water, which he downs without concern. “Better…” He spins back around. Still sauced, but appearing to be in better control of himself. “Why-why you… asks? I tell you… though… myths an’ legends,” sweeps his hands over his lap, indicating drunk understanding. “Die hard in Gaia. We-we love them for the extra dimension they provide, the-the illusion of near-infinite possibility… tooo-to erase, yes erase, the narrow confines of most people’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions…!, exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of ''the ‘me’ race'',” Chuckles to himself over the little ‘rat’ joke. “Is not yet… final.” He nods. “That’s… my knowledge of ‘heroes’… what is ya name anyway?”
----------------------------------- Word Count: 294 Exp: 29.4 Total: 9551wc/955.1exp
"Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to look out for."
She smiles warmly at Cyour response, but for a moment a pained look crosses her face before returning back to the smile. She brushes a strand of hair back before looking at you.
"My name is Joan Ispen, I wonder if you'll remember that when you wake up in the morning with a hang over the size of a zombie whale, anyway I asked you that question becuase I wondered what you thought about it, what with you being a common man in a world that creates hundreds of heroes a week. I bet even you will one day find something to fight for that makes you a hero, like the Guardians of Spira."
She chuckles and orders you another drink before she continues to speak.
"Those people are truely heroes, they help to save Spira from the blight of Sin that ravages their lands as revenge for the acts of their ancestors. Is that fair? The people of today paying for crimes commited a millenia ago? Yet that is a country that breeds and steels heroes in the summoners and their guardians"
She grins looking at you, seeming looking into you before continuing to speak more.
"I bet you'd make a half decent guardian, but anyway thats not the only example of hero making, look at SeeD. That place is an academy designed to train the young into fighting machines and heroes, founded by two different minded people."
She leans back on the bar and looks up to the cieling, breathing in gently as she quietly whispers to herself, you can barely make it out.
"I know, I've seen them fight against Sin, against Shin-ra, against Esthar, against Sorceresses, against Morpheus... A world of heroes and it'll never change"
She then lets out a sigh before looking back at you.
"Anyway Clive, I reckon you should try your luck in Spira some time. You might be surprised at what you'll find their"
She chuckles and then slips off the coral ring from her finger and tosses it to you before she hopes off of the bar stool and starts to walk past you.
"Enjoy those three drinks on me, but make sure your out of Alexandria by noon tomorrow or you'll find trouble oh and avoid travelling to Galbadia I reckon there is gonna be alot of trouble there soon."
She says before leaving the bar again.
OOC: Recieved
Coral Ring, a small green ring of coral that allows the wearer to absorb all electrical attacks, has the number XXVI engraved on it along with the initails L.G
Clive listened, though distracted by the booze, he couldn’t release his eyes from that of a pretty lady – no matter how inebriated he is. There’s one thing a rat like Clive can do, is will himself sober enough to listen politely to a woman. As she spoke, he thought about the words she said, as best he could being in the philosopher level of alcohol poisoning. What he would never tell her was that this ‘hero’ business was nothing that interest Clive. Yes, they made great stories and they helped a lot of people strive for better lives, but this was of no real consequence to Clive. Heroes came and went, forgotten by new waves of them that rise like phoenixes from the ashes of dead ages.
She then hands him a ring, and warns him to leave before noon. Luckily he’ll be long gone by then since the boat leaves at seven and he planned to sleep on the dock to be sure to be awake for it. The warning with Galbadia went straight over his head though, he never heard of the country, least not that his drunken brain could recall – probably was a boring, stupid place anyway filled with missiles. Then, as quickly she came, she left, leaving behind three undrunk pints and that ring. Taking a moment now, he looks it over.
“L…G… and 26…” He mumbled, reading it over. “Whatever that means. Not that I need a coral ring... hmm.” Without another thought, he pocketed it.
Acquired: 1 Coral Ring with the inscription ‘L.G.’ and ‘XXVI’.
He turned back to his new favorite liquid friends and began partaking in them before heading off to the wharfs to sleep off the booze and wait for the ship in the morning.
--------------------------- Word Count: 304 Exp: 30.4
OOC: Thread over, Clive is now on his way where ever, bonus 300Exp for making me laugh a few times and having a nice view on hero's IC. Let me know where you start your next thread if you want me to continue
Last Edit: Jan 15, 2010 18:39:23 GMT by Demon Lord
