FINAL FANTASY XI
CHAPTER V
Surprise
The garb of the White Mage before him tarnished moderately in blood. Of one name, of one nature, the Ranger polished a silver arrow that he mounted into his crossbow soon after. The scene was somewhat of a torture session, and his hands to the ceiling did obviously not shackle the one in control. Hollis had caught the prey trying to steal from him; potentially he wasn't of the most provided lot, stealing from one who also perused through the pockets did not denote high intellect either. How could the fool even think to dare take of his purse? Hollis through curses under his breath as he aimed the weapon at the restrained male.
There was a moderate gasp emitted by the mage, and Hollis smiled lasciviously. He felt a little more at power, completely in domination of that which he had strung up like a finished bird, having met it's fate long ago in a preordained fashion. Business had been slow lately; The Elvaan watched their pockets more often and the guards could easily decipher that a Hume didn't exactly fit in with the likes of the San D'orian. Without any more hesitation, he fired the arrow at the lower side of the torso of the target. There was a glimmer in his eye; his shot could not miss. A second went by that was to Hollis seemed lifeless. There was no howl of pain emitted, and he could look up to see only the mage leaning over in an arc, a piece of metal displayed like a splinter in wood an inch at his side.
"Damnit, that was pretty good." Hollis tried to take it as if he was impressed, but instead the Ranger felt quite agitated. How could he have let his shot fly so carelessly? It was not a problem of major variety, all he would have to do is set his crosshairs again on the poor sap who had decided to pick a fight with him; not to mention Hollis's satchel.
He would steadily load another shining arrow into the release system of the mechanical bow that some of his class would carry, being not keen to carry a piece of wood and string about with him. The crossbow was precise and even more painful than its predecessor was a composite of woodworking and catgut. Hollis was halfway through his preparations before a knock would come to the door; he didn't feel threatened to take a break at all yet did come to answer it. What could he have to fear in the stock room of his own uncle's cafe? With those thoughts in mind, he took paces to the door in which he heard the summons and opened it just a hair.
It wasn't the sight he expected; a glimmer of red and gold, piercing brown eyes. Hollis couldn't imagine he would see such a sight again. He recalled that some didn't take kindly to thievery, like he himself did. But amidst those memories, the most dominant was that of a Hume Dragoon and Samurai traveling together on the Bastok capital's market city promenade. The swooping in for the kill, a gold-ridden purse on the side of the Dragoon's belt; all this made Hollis's mind catch up to the thoughts of the one who stood outside the door. Obviously, the samurai had come back for revenge but how had he tracked him this far, and all for just a small purse of gold to top the unusual pretext off.
The thoughts were shattered, in similar fashion to the door he leaned against. With some kind of eastern maneuver, the one who had come for Hollis had broken the door. The Ranger didn't have time to catch what had happened, ducking down and covering his head as not to take any shards of wood to his face. He didn't have much to cover him, a black sweater would offer nothing and nor would oversized jeans. His ebony glasses were left on the table, as well as his head ornament: a hair clip with too feathers. They were far from fancy; just something he could afford in his early days of theft and archery.
Hollis glanced upwards towards the white mage, who was gone. The cuffs that bound him to the sturdy masonry of the storage hall were left open, and the ceremonial robe lined on end with red triangles a heap on the floor. So sudden Hollis could hear the sound of metal on metal and then again. Soon it had become much like a song like that of a marimba; the archer would turn to watch as the Samurai fought someone unfamiliar to him.
An Elvaan, possibly a thief, moved in feral like patterns against the samurai, striking two gem-set metallic daggers against the sleek metal of the opponent's sharp blade. A sand-shaded scarf covered much of the action to Hollis, as it flailed about with the movements of the fierce confrontation. The rest seemed to denote he truly was of Thief nature; his clothes a collaboration of an off-white sleeveless shirt and brown loose fitting cotton covering his legs. There were many objects strapped to his body in pairs; armbands, other small blades, and even pouches lay along his arms and legs. Hollis pondered if he was truly the target if already these two were so hard at it.
The thief would duck low and the samurai would swing high, the fighting styles went hand in hand producing numerous dodges and near misses. Elvaan ears nearly saw their end, and soon after blonde hair would whip away from a short blade's strike. Parries began and the song of the fight began again. Hollis had to do something, but who was his enemy and who was his ally? He'd inch his way towards the door, only to be halted in his path by a body. The Samurai had been thrown across the room by what could only have been a swift kick in the way he had gone, running backwards and into the wall. Hollis would leap back attempting to go in the other way, but the Elvaan would crash into him without care; he felt the fighting thief push off of him and back towards the fight that had suddenly swarmed Hollis's usual hangout.
The startled Ranger almost thought he could make it out, but then pointed metal discs would fly through the air, all missing their target. Aimed at the Elvaan thief, several came too abrupt in front of Hollis's face for his own taste and we would turn tail, and try to find a different route. It was too chaotic here, the brisk path of metal and flesh was not under his control and for that did Hollis want to flee like a coward. Whatever to be would become, and there was no need to stay and watch the fight. An opening made itself clear, as the bout continued without any change in scales. There was no clear victor at the moment, as Hollis watched the two continue like a pair of felines out for each other's blood.
There, now was the time Hollis decided, lunging out between the two in a duck and roll method. He would free himself and dart out into the cafe. He just had to leave, managing to take everything with him along the lines of his glasses, hair decoration, and crossbow. It was clear sailing from here on having left the scene of the fight. That is what he thought, at least until he heard the sounds of the fight coming after him. Indeed, the Elvaan was making a run for it, with the Samurai closing behind him at high acceleration. At one point, Hollis was at the door, soon after he was on his back pushed down by what he now could recognize as the White Mage he had detained. That is why he was targeting someone such as another thief in which to pilfer from, the thieves carried the biggest purses.
The Samurai followed out the door, stepping down on Hollis's hand. He cringed, straining to see through the fade of his glasses and the overlapping of his silver and midnight locks, which tousled themselves into the fallen Ranger's eyes. The crowd that circled around him laughed quietly, remarked quietly, and went back to their positions in their chairs and at their drinks quietly. Apparently they didn't care greatly for the action they'd seen, the black mage Hollis had witnessed take down three Galka must have been enough excitement for the usual tenants for one day.
Barely wounded, he slumped into on of the chairs still as if he had seen most of the blunt force of the skirmish between the two warriors. Perhaps another day he would find either and exact revenge from a safe distance, for the moment he held up one finger to signal to the cafe attendants that he wished for one drink. His uncle owned the shop, so he wouldn't have to worry about the damages to the stock room if he cleaned it up himself. While they knew of his horrible tendencies, they did not persecute him, possibly of fear. Maybe of love for him, but Hollis never bothered to decipher which.
"Here you go, one coffee."
"Thanks, how much is it again?"
"Oh, 10 gil."
"Alright... Oh, no! That damn thief... "
"10 gil."
"But, I don't... "
"10 gil."
"But we're family!"
"10 gil."
***
CHAPTER V
Surprise
The garb of the White Mage before him tarnished moderately in blood. Of one name, of one nature, the Ranger polished a silver arrow that he mounted into his crossbow soon after. The scene was somewhat of a torture session, and his hands to the ceiling did obviously not shackle the one in control. Hollis had caught the prey trying to steal from him; potentially he wasn't of the most provided lot, stealing from one who also perused through the pockets did not denote high intellect either. How could the fool even think to dare take of his purse? Hollis through curses under his breath as he aimed the weapon at the restrained male.
There was a moderate gasp emitted by the mage, and Hollis smiled lasciviously. He felt a little more at power, completely in domination of that which he had strung up like a finished bird, having met it's fate long ago in a preordained fashion. Business had been slow lately; The Elvaan watched their pockets more often and the guards could easily decipher that a Hume didn't exactly fit in with the likes of the San D'orian. Without any more hesitation, he fired the arrow at the lower side of the torso of the target. There was a glimmer in his eye; his shot could not miss. A second went by that was to Hollis seemed lifeless. There was no howl of pain emitted, and he could look up to see only the mage leaning over in an arc, a piece of metal displayed like a splinter in wood an inch at his side.
"Damnit, that was pretty good." Hollis tried to take it as if he was impressed, but instead the Ranger felt quite agitated. How could he have let his shot fly so carelessly? It was not a problem of major variety, all he would have to do is set his crosshairs again on the poor sap who had decided to pick a fight with him; not to mention Hollis's satchel.
He would steadily load another shining arrow into the release system of the mechanical bow that some of his class would carry, being not keen to carry a piece of wood and string about with him. The crossbow was precise and even more painful than its predecessor was a composite of woodworking and catgut. Hollis was halfway through his preparations before a knock would come to the door; he didn't feel threatened to take a break at all yet did come to answer it. What could he have to fear in the stock room of his own uncle's cafe? With those thoughts in mind, he took paces to the door in which he heard the summons and opened it just a hair.
It wasn't the sight he expected; a glimmer of red and gold, piercing brown eyes. Hollis couldn't imagine he would see such a sight again. He recalled that some didn't take kindly to thievery, like he himself did. But amidst those memories, the most dominant was that of a Hume Dragoon and Samurai traveling together on the Bastok capital's market city promenade. The swooping in for the kill, a gold-ridden purse on the side of the Dragoon's belt; all this made Hollis's mind catch up to the thoughts of the one who stood outside the door. Obviously, the samurai had come back for revenge but how had he tracked him this far, and all for just a small purse of gold to top the unusual pretext off.
The thoughts were shattered, in similar fashion to the door he leaned against. With some kind of eastern maneuver, the one who had come for Hollis had broken the door. The Ranger didn't have time to catch what had happened, ducking down and covering his head as not to take any shards of wood to his face. He didn't have much to cover him, a black sweater would offer nothing and nor would oversized jeans. His ebony glasses were left on the table, as well as his head ornament: a hair clip with too feathers. They were far from fancy; just something he could afford in his early days of theft and archery.
Hollis glanced upwards towards the white mage, who was gone. The cuffs that bound him to the sturdy masonry of the storage hall were left open, and the ceremonial robe lined on end with red triangles a heap on the floor. So sudden Hollis could hear the sound of metal on metal and then again. Soon it had become much like a song like that of a marimba; the archer would turn to watch as the Samurai fought someone unfamiliar to him.
An Elvaan, possibly a thief, moved in feral like patterns against the samurai, striking two gem-set metallic daggers against the sleek metal of the opponent's sharp blade. A sand-shaded scarf covered much of the action to Hollis, as it flailed about with the movements of the fierce confrontation. The rest seemed to denote he truly was of Thief nature; his clothes a collaboration of an off-white sleeveless shirt and brown loose fitting cotton covering his legs. There were many objects strapped to his body in pairs; armbands, other small blades, and even pouches lay along his arms and legs. Hollis pondered if he was truly the target if already these two were so hard at it.
The thief would duck low and the samurai would swing high, the fighting styles went hand in hand producing numerous dodges and near misses. Elvaan ears nearly saw their end, and soon after blonde hair would whip away from a short blade's strike. Parries began and the song of the fight began again. Hollis had to do something, but who was his enemy and who was his ally? He'd inch his way towards the door, only to be halted in his path by a body. The Samurai had been thrown across the room by what could only have been a swift kick in the way he had gone, running backwards and into the wall. Hollis would leap back attempting to go in the other way, but the Elvaan would crash into him without care; he felt the fighting thief push off of him and back towards the fight that had suddenly swarmed Hollis's usual hangout.
The startled Ranger almost thought he could make it out, but then pointed metal discs would fly through the air, all missing their target. Aimed at the Elvaan thief, several came too abrupt in front of Hollis's face for his own taste and we would turn tail, and try to find a different route. It was too chaotic here, the brisk path of metal and flesh was not under his control and for that did Hollis want to flee like a coward. Whatever to be would become, and there was no need to stay and watch the fight. An opening made itself clear, as the bout continued without any change in scales. There was no clear victor at the moment, as Hollis watched the two continue like a pair of felines out for each other's blood.
There, now was the time Hollis decided, lunging out between the two in a duck and roll method. He would free himself and dart out into the cafe. He just had to leave, managing to take everything with him along the lines of his glasses, hair decoration, and crossbow. It was clear sailing from here on having left the scene of the fight. That is what he thought, at least until he heard the sounds of the fight coming after him. Indeed, the Elvaan was making a run for it, with the Samurai closing behind him at high acceleration. At one point, Hollis was at the door, soon after he was on his back pushed down by what he now could recognize as the White Mage he had detained. That is why he was targeting someone such as another thief in which to pilfer from, the thieves carried the biggest purses.
The Samurai followed out the door, stepping down on Hollis's hand. He cringed, straining to see through the fade of his glasses and the overlapping of his silver and midnight locks, which tousled themselves into the fallen Ranger's eyes. The crowd that circled around him laughed quietly, remarked quietly, and went back to their positions in their chairs and at their drinks quietly. Apparently they didn't care greatly for the action they'd seen, the black mage Hollis had witnessed take down three Galka must have been enough excitement for the usual tenants for one day.
Barely wounded, he slumped into on of the chairs still as if he had seen most of the blunt force of the skirmish between the two warriors. Perhaps another day he would find either and exact revenge from a safe distance, for the moment he held up one finger to signal to the cafe attendants that he wished for one drink. His uncle owned the shop, so he wouldn't have to worry about the damages to the stock room if he cleaned it up himself. While they knew of his horrible tendencies, they did not persecute him, possibly of fear. Maybe of love for him, but Hollis never bothered to decipher which.
"Here you go, one coffee."
"Thanks, how much is it again?"
"Oh, 10 gil."
"Alright... Oh, no! That damn thief... "
"10 gil."
"But, I don't... "
"10 gil."
"But we're family!"
"10 gil."
***