FINAL FANTASY: INQUISITION
By Thomas Knapp
Act Four- Scene One
Borz skipped off the makeshift plank that led down to the isolated beach that the group had chosen as their landing point. "Welcome to Wodensland!" Borz chirped happily.
Tamara did not share in Borz's cheerfulness. She was waving her hand in front of her face as if trying to cool herself off. "The humidity here is almost suffocating. How does anyone survive this blasted heat?"
"Simple." Fredros replied as he strode down the plank, "They don't wear full body armor."
"Yes, if it's too hot, you should take it all off." Midas added, "I can help you if you want."
There was a moment's pause as Midas realized what he had just said. His face turned as red as his robe and he whirled away, studying the tropical trees as if they were fascinating him to no end.
Tamara flushed brightly, and managed to stammer, "Oh… um… I…" She looked at Yura, expecting the summoner to be fuming. Instead, the red-haired lady smiled, and laughed at the knight's discomfort.
"You probably should remove that armor, Tamara." Yura commented, trying hard to keep from chuckling during so. "If you don't want Midas touching you, I'd me more than glad to assist."
Tamara pursed her lips, and with the unbuckling of several clasps, the metal breastplate fell to the ground. Removing four buckles, heavy arm and leg plates fell, and Tamara stood in her typical brown tunic and trousers. "No… I'm quite capable of handling it myself."
"Then what was all the fuss about?" Creed growled, joining the rest of the band on the shore. "We have a mission to worry about. Let's keep hormones out of this for a little bit longer."
Midas was about to retaliate with a scathing comeback, when he noticed the tall grasses flanking the sandy shore rustling quite energetically. From within the grass, something squeaked, "KUPO!"
All eight adventurers whirled around to face in the direction of the sound as a furry moogle burst out of the foliage, it's normally white hair tinted a light green from the grass it had obviously been rummaging through. The yellow bonbon on the top of its head bobbed slightly to the left in the breeze coming off the ocean.
"Oh… how CUTE!" Yura squealed. The moogle regarded the summoner for a brief moment, its furry head tilting slightly. It then straightened, put its small pink nose in the air, and sniffed several times.
"Fascinating." Harmon whispered, "I was under the impression that moogles were extinct…"
Then the sun gleaming off Tamara's armor caught its attention. As if forgetting whatever it was smelling, the moogle dashed right past Midas, and before Tamara could react, had grabbed one of her arm plates, and sprinted away to the far side of the beach.
"You little rascal!" Tamara growled, "That's MINE!" She started after the moogle, but Creed quickly grabbed her by the arm.
"No, don't get it excited!" Creed warned, "It can be very dangerous!"
"Why?" Tamara asked, "That little thing can't actually HURT us… can it?"
"Moogles are magical creatures. When they get overly emotional in any way, they start randomly casting Black Magic. To other moogles, it's harmless, but to us… it can be quite deadly. I don't think they MEAN to hurt ANYONE, but they have no control over it."
Tamara turned back to the moogle, who had stationed itself on a large rock. The creature sniffed the armor plate suspiciously, then tried to bite into the metal, without much success. Rubbing its jaw, and realizing that whatever this gleaming object was, it CERTAINLY wasn't food, it tossed the arm plate aside, and hopped off the rock.
Tamara cautiously retrieved her arm plate, keeping her eyes on the moogle the entire time. It once again had its nose in the air, sniffing curiously.
"What is that thing smelling?" Yura asked, "Everyone bathed recently, right?"
Everyone was so fascinated with their furry visitor that they did not notice Borz slowly stepping back towards the boat. However, the moogle did, and with a triumphant, "KUPO!" It lunged towards the tiny Black Mage.
"No! Stay back! Go away!" Borz shouted in protest, but was tackled by the white critter. They tumbled in the sand about 5 meters, and the moogle suddenly floated up with its pink wings, chubby furry hands clasped around the top of Borz's hat. Meanwhile, Borz had an equally tight grip around the hat's brim.
"Let GO!" Borz shouted indignantly, while the moogle continued to try and flap upward, grunting, "Kuuuuupo…!"
"Borz!" Creed yelled in horror, "Let it go! Don't get the thing excited!"
"Kupo! Kupo! KUPO!" The moogle chanted, pulling with all the might in its tiny frame. Borz was equally adamant in his shouts at the moogle, "No! Don't! Let GO!"
Finally, Midas charged Borz, and swatted the Black Mage on the hands, causing Borz to yelp in pain, and release the hat. Midas watched the moogle flap up into the air, holding Borz's hat, chirping happily, "KUPO!"
Finally, Midas looked back down at Borz, who had retreated into his loose clothing, head inside his shirt. However, a small stalk protruded out of the collar, topped with a bright yellow bonbon.
"Oh, WOW!" Yura said, "Borz has got one of those bulbs on his head like that moogle!"
There was a sound of query from inside Borz's shirt, and the Black Mage reached up with his hand, gently feeling the bonbon. Borz yelped, and slowly stuck his head out of his collar. A furry white head emerged with trepidation, squinted eyes blinking repeatedly.
"It… looks like I've been found out, huh?" Borz admitted sheepishly, but for a long uncomfortable time, no one made any attempt at a reply.
Finally Creed, his mouth twitching in disbelief, commented wryly, "You mean to tell me this whole time we've been relying on the Black Magic of an overzealous, glory-mad boy… and a moogle?" He made a resigned sigh, then added, "The more I learn about this crazy group, the less I want to know…"
The moogle that had harassed Borz flittered down in front of the Black Mage. It held out the hat it had taken, which Borz quickly snatched up, putting it over his head, once again shrouding his features. The moogle chirped, "Kupo?" It clearly didn't understand why Borz was so intent on hiding himself in a Black Mage outfit.
Borz looked around somewhat shyly, then muttered, "Kupo po… Ku…"
The moogle nodded, as if understanding, then bowed as much as it's chubby frame could allow, before disappearing back into the overgrowth.
"What was that?" Midas asked, "What did you say to it?"
"Say?" Creed huffed, "That creature can't understand anything. Moogles are mindless sprites."
Fredros glanced at Creed, and hissed, "Really? Yet Borz can understand our language, and could probably out-think you any day. He also can control the magic that you say moogles are too stupid to be able to comprehend."
Midas eyed Fredros, and said, "I take it you knew about this?"
"Indeed I did." Fredros answered, crossing his arms defiantly. "I've known Borz for a long time."
Borz shook his head, "Don't downplay it… Fredros was the one who made me what I was."
"Is this true?" Yura asked with an impressed smile.
Fredros smirked, and replied, "I suppose one could say it that way."
30 years ago, Outside the Monastery of Alexander, Wodensland…
The only thing that ran through the moogle's mind was escape… somehow to escape. The sound of the hunters behind him, swords clinking, boots trampling, pushed the little moogle to pump his little wings as hard as he could. The small blocks of ice that the moogle was spreading instinctively behind him helped to keep the hunters at bay, but what filled the creature's mind was the sounds of his family, his father, mother, and 5 brothers and sisters, all being slain and skinned.
The moogle simply couldn't comprehend why the men were slicing off the skin of his family, but he knew that he didn't want it to happen to him, so he kept flying at breakneck speed, barely dodging a tree in his path.
Soon the forest parted into a clearing, and the moogle suddenly saw yet another man, clad in white, kneeling down facing the moogle. There wasn't enough time to react, and moogle and man collided.
Fredros had his eyes closed, so never saw what hit him until after they had tumbled. A moogle, small for even their diminutive stature, was tangled in his robes. Fredros concluded that it was probably but a youth.
The young priest quickly helped the poor creature out of the bundle of fabric, and somehow knew the little being's fright. Something was scaring the being, and it didn't take Fredros long to figure out who.
He heard the hunters long before he saw them, and finally 5 men burst into the clearing, their hair and clothes speckled with twigs, weeds, and the occasional flower petal. Several of them actually had the pelts of recently killed moogles buckled to their belts.
"Hey! Hand over that moogle." The leader demanded, "He may be puny, but he's still worth some decent gil."
"I will do no such thing!" Fredros replied, clutching the frightened moogle to his chest, "You do not need this one to make another moogle fur coat to ship to the filthy rich in North Landing or Artica."
"You listen here, you doped up priest. We want that moogle… or else…"
"Or else what? You will kill me?" Fredros queried, raising an eyebrow, "Surely you know that all Priests of Alexander are watched at all times. How do you think killing a man of the cloth will affect you?"
This gave the hunter pause. He motioned for his men to retreat back into the forest, he grumped, "Very well… have it your way. There are plenty other moogles in these forests."
5 years later…
Fredros pored over the aged document that was one of the last remaining copies of the first attempts at putting the teachings of Alexander to writing. It was intriguing how modern translations had the tendency to be ever so slightly altered with each ensuing translation.
Fredros turned back to the blank page, and started to write what he deemed was a much more accurate translation. He was so engrossed in his work that he never noticed Borz wobble into the chamber. The halls of the monastery were not very wide, and moogle flight tended to be somewhat haphazard, thus Borz had taken to merely walking. However, the study chamber offered much more room to maneuver, and thus Borz flittered above Fredros's shoulder as the priest wrote.
Fredros acknowledged the moogle's presence, but did little more until Borz recognized what the White Mage was doing. With a high pitched squeak, Borz quite clearly said, "BOOK!"
Fredros looked with utter disbelief. "Did you just…"
As if to remove all doubt, Borz pointed to the bound leaves of paper, and repeated, "BOOK!"
Fredros lifted his pen up to the moogle's eyes, and asked, "Borz, what is this?"
Borz blinked twice, then said, "PEN!"
Fredros's face broke into an amazed smile; he jumped to his feet, and turned to the old tome, lifting it up, and asking, "And this?"
Borz nodded his head, and chirped, "BOOK!"
Fredros then put down the tome on the desk, and pulled the chair away from underneath. Pointing to the wooden piece of furniture, he asked, "What about this?"
Borz's features furrowed, as if he wasn't as sure about this object. After some silence, the moogle said with some trepidation, "Ch… chair?"
Fredros had never felt so elated as he had that day, not even when he had been ordained…
* * * * * * * * * *
"Absolutely AMAZING!" Harmon crowed, "25 years ago you proved a hypothesis that many scholars had developed, Fredros. Our only failing was that there were almost no moogles anywhere by the time we began study, and about 10 years ago were considered extinct."
Fredros snorted, "I proved nothing, Harmon. The results that came out of all this belonged to Borz. I was merely a guiding force. Yet, even with that… he had worked so hard, only to run into a brick wall."
"What do you mean by that?" Midas queried, "Borz, would you care to explain?"
The Black Mage inhaled, then sighed, "Sure… why not?"
20 years ago…
The outfit of a Black Mage was designed and enchanted to shroud the features of the wearer so that they were totally unidentifiable to anyone else unless the Mage in question wished to be known. However, when the wearer barely reaches 4 feet in height WITH the pointy hat, and possesses a voice that sounds like there is a kazoo taped to his lips, the shrouding features of the Mage garb become rather moot.
Thus, every student in the school knew who was being called to the Headmaster's office, and were quick to turn to their friends or classmates, gossiping about the latest failure, and subsequent personal harm and structural damage, surrounding the "monster mage".
He had to stand on his tiptoes to turn the knob of the door, then slipped in, opening the door as little as necessary for entry. "You called for me, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Borz, come in, and please close the door." The headmaster stated.
Borz complied, and focused his gaze on the man in charge of the school. If there was such a thing as an animated stick, it was the Headmaster of Wodensland Magic School. He was painfully thin, with long limbs and a stretched out face, like two giants had grabbed him by the legs and head, and pulled for about a year and a half.
"Borz… I am increasingly concerned with your unauthorized practice." The Headmaster commented, "We have very strict policies about students taking their studies on their own shoulders, and for precisely this reason." The headmaster waved a small report that had been filled out, explaining last night's fire in the activity hall that had threatened to burn the building down itself.
"I wouldn't take such drastic measures if the masters wouldn't refuse to teach me." Borz replied.
The Headmaster frowned, and wove his hands together. He said somewhat sadly, "Borz, the masters time is valuable, and I am sorry if they cannot waste it on you."
"What do you mean?"
"Perhaps it is time you knew the truth. The only reason that you were admitted to this school at all was because your ward, the High Priest Fredros, was so adamant about allowing to entrance. But, Borz, we can't teach you. No one can."
"Is it really true?" Borz asked, "What they say about moogles?"
"Yes, Borz." The Headmaster replied, "Although I must admit that you are vastly superior than any moogle I have ever heard of… you just aren't capable of controlling magic power. It's not your fault… you were born an inferior being."
"An… inferior being…" Borz whispered, his heart smashing to pieces. All his dreams… of becoming the first moogle mage… and they never had a chance to begin with.
"I am truly sorry, Borz…" The Headmaster said, "I know how tough this must be for you… but I am expelling you from the magic school. Normally, I'd have you turn in your clothes, but they'd only gather moths."
Dejectedly, nearly toning out the laughing from the other students, Borz strode out of the school. Quietly, he slipped into the woods surrounding the academy, just in time to hear the first explosions of cannon fire.
Meanwhile…
Due to being forced to make emergency repairs, the ship carrying the High Priest of Alexander was a day late arriving in port.
What a difference a day makes.
Rather than the tropical, sunny land that Fredros had come to love, the whole South Island was burning, smoke choking out the sun itself.
The High Priest quickly called for the ship to make a quick dock, but to prepare to take on any survivors. In his panic, Fredros didn't even bother to ponder how such an atrocity could occur, and who was responsible. He only reacted.
Fredros charged through the town, and stopped in front of what remained of the Alexander Monastery. It appeared that the historical building had been one of the first targets, as nothing remained but smoldering rubble. Burnt flesh soon followed the sight, and that was when Fredros noticed the bodies. He counted 47… the exact number that had been serving in the monastery, all lined up along the edge of the burned down temple.
This absolutely baffled him. Why did none of the priests and acolytes escape the building? The rubble had all the appearances of burning down quite slowly, more than adequate time to have escaped.
He heard noise from behind him, and whirled around to see a small figure emerge from the tall grasses into the plaza outside the monastery. It was wearing Black Mage garb, but it was evident to anyone who knew who it was.
Borz rushed to Fredros, and began sobbing, "We were attacked… by our own people… no one expected it… I don't know how, but they had cannons, and they starting blowing up the whole town…"
"Do you know who?" Fredros commented.
He shook his head wildly, "I was too scared…"
Further conversation was cut off as there was a loud shout from several meters ahead. Three men in combat attire pointed down the hill at Fredros and Borz. Fredros tucked the moogle under one arm, and rushed the other way, towards the docks. He heard the sound of arrows falling short of him as he basically dove up the ramp into the ship. Before they even pulled up the ramp, the ship was pulling out to open sea. Peering over the edge of the deck, Fredros saw one face in particular of the small group that had assembled at the dock.
Fredros had seen the face before, when he had rescued Borz from a hunting party out for his pelt. A face that had threatened him with great harm for rescuing the moogle. A face that he would not see again until 20 years after the revolution, in Artica. A face that Fredros finally had a name to match with it.
Tarsis.
End Scene One