"The Clan" as they dubbed themselves (the name Nutsy led to embarrassing questions) was heading for Sphrom.
"I don't see the point of looking for more members. We've got a ho, a lush, and a prude. What else does a clan need?" said Pablo. At that time Pablo had a bow pointing at his right side, a sword at his left, and two small but deadly glowing moogle hands pointing at his heart. "Sorry!" He muttered stepping away from them.
Lately The Clan had been having a hard time finding jobs. Babette was a good archer/sniper, but had a problem communicating. Pablo was an alright thief, but had a problem communicating too much. Montblanc had a problem hitting targets since majority of the time, he had a hangover the day of the battle. Marche held the group together, even though Montblanc was technically the leader.
"Alwrite clanspeople" Montblanc slurred. "We've got to get to Sphrom by daybreak tomorrow or all the other clans'll have got all the good missions."
They all agreed to get moving again by nightfall. For the time being, they split up and did whatever they wanted to do. There was no "Clan Meal Time" for Nutsy. Find your own food, or starve.
Marche wasn't used to hunting for food, more used to buying it already dead and sitting in airtight packages, ready to be eaten. So he decided to follow one of the clan members. So, he chose the one he knew the most. Montblanc. WELL, Montblanc's idea of a good meal was a few insects and a mouthful of whisky.
Enough of Montblanc, thought Marche. So he decided to check out the more social of the remaining members. Pablo was hunting squirrels. Just taking his dagger and stabbing them in the spine, killing them. Marche had to strain to control himself from throwing up. Pablo was just staring at him, not knowing anything was wrong.
Well, one more person, Babette. She was the least social, and a little creepy at times. Marche didn't know why, but she seemed...sad. Like she was searching for something, but couldn't find it.
He found her by the stream, sitting on a rock, her back facing him. She was fishing, and had a small fire burning near the stream.
"Finally," Thought Marche, "Someone who knows what to eat." He walked over to the rock she was sitting on when he heard a stifling sob. Confused, he walked closer to the rock. She was crying all right, but in a way that you couldn't tell unless you heard a noise. Before he could get closer to say anything, he saw her ears twitch, and in one motion, she wiped her eyes, grabbed her bow and knocked an arrow.
Surprised, he took a step backwards and tripped on the most smallest thing possible. A pebble. He fell, heading strait toward the fire. Now, in the quarter of a second it took him to trip and feel the smoke making his eyes water, he had deduced that he should pull out his sword and thrust it into the fire. It may have messed up the blade, but rather a blade than his face.
So there he was, balancing with his feet in front of the fire, and the sword keeping him from falling in.
"I could use some help ANY TIME NOW!" He yelled, his arms already starting to give away.
Babette stood over him, puzzled on how to get him out without burning him. Both of his hands were holding the sword. He was facing upward, arms behind him near his shoulder blades. So, Babette did what anyone with a brain in her situation would do. She reached down and grabbed him around the waist, and hoisted him up, and pulled his melted sword out of the fire with her foot. Once the sword was out of the fire, she realized he wasn't looking at her in the eye.
"Umm, you can let go now..." He said, prying her off of his waist.
"What were you doing sneaking up behind me" She said, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I needed some help getting food. Where I come from, we don't have to hunt and kill our food" he said, looking at his hands. Babette smiled. The second time she'd smiled since he'd known her.
"Okay." She said, smile vanishing from her face. She went and sat on the rock again, fishing. "You wanna learn to fish? Get a bamboo pole from that thicket over there. Get some of Pablo or Montblanc's animal skins. Ask them to make a strip about twice the length of the pole. Bring it to me.
Babette had made a fishing pole for Marche, Marche had given her some company while she fished.
Of course, that doesn't mean they weren't looking at each other as more than company sometimes.
(A/N: No, they won't become a couple, too soon for anything right now)
In the end, Marche caught 2 fish, and Babette showed him how to gut them and cook them.
"Damn squirrels. Taste like ass today." Said Pablo, spitting the charred squirrel from his mouth. "I shouldn't have used fira to cook it."
Suddenly something stumbled it's way into the clearing. Psh, bangaa.
"FOOD!" gasped the bangaa. It started devouring the squirrel. "Hmm, tastes like ass. Whatever. Food is food"
"Hey buddy, what're you gonna repay me with?" Pablo said, half offended, half confused.
"Umm...I'll join you? My name's Lucas, nice to meet you." He said in one breath. "Okay, where're we headed?"
'This bangaa doesn't have that whole ssss thing goin on like the other ones...maybe he'll be bad enough to make me look good in battle.' Thought Pablo.
"Okay, you can join. I'll show you my other clansmembers." Said Pablo.
He set off to let him meet Montblanc. Of course, Montblanc had taken a little more than a mouthful of whiskey. He decided that Montblanc was in no condition to leave a good impression on anyone.
"Who was that?" He questioned
"Just a clansmate. He's alright..."
So, He went to the last place he saw Babette. And there she was, deep in conversation with Marche, him looking intently at her. He decided it wasn't a good time to let Lucas meet them either. Not while having a conversation like that at least.
So, they just sat around talking. Lucas was a White Monk, banished by his village for a crime he didn't commit. He had been wandering for a few days, not eating anything for fear the smoke would attract Clan Borzoi in their territory. Pablo explained Montblanc's and Marche's origins, but when Lucas asked about Babette, Pablo shrugged.
"She barely talks to anyone, and hardly smiles. We don't know anything about her. It appears she only says more than a few words to Marche. She can't stand Montblanc, and she prefers not to be on the receiving end of my jokes. That's all I know about her."
"Sounds like this Marche is a pretty cool guy then, if he can get someone like her to talk." Said Lucas, stroking his chin. "Well, maybe we should get back to that moogle. It's not safe to let anyone walk around drunk on their own," he said.
We headed back to the campsite. Montblanc had retreated back to a tent, one of two tents, fit for two, but could fit three if a moogle was in it.
"It's getting to nightfall. We promised to meet up by then, so let's sit around the fire and wait." Said Pablo. They only had to wait a few minutes before Marche came strolling back. He took a sit on a log he found.
"So, what were you and Babette "talking" about, eh?" Said Pablo, smirking.
"Things..." He said, looking distracted, gazing into the fire.
"Speaking of Babette, where is she?" Asked Pablo.
Marche finally looked up from the fire to look into the face of a bangaa with a black eye and a brown eye. "Whoa, who's your friend?" He asked.
"Lance, Marche, vice versa" Said Pablo, looking in the direction of footsteps. By now, it was completely dark, with an eerie feeling in the air.
Babette approached, and went toward the tents. But then realized her predicament once she noticed the extra figure sitting by the fire.
"This here's Lance. The White monk we were looking for" Said Pablo. Babette said something, but it came out as a grunt.
"What's her problem?"
"I think it has something to do with the tents," Said Lance. "One of you are going to either have to sleep outside, or share a tent with her. Judging by the maturity of the group, it would be best to pair either Marche or me in the tent with her. Pablo, you have little hormone control, since when I mentioned sharing a tent with her, your pants bulged. I barely know the girl, so I think it's best Marche share a tent until we can get another one. Unless there are some objections from the lady?"
"No..." She said. She would have preferred to have someone sleep outside, but that wouldn't be fair.
Sleep wouldn't be bad now, she thought. She crawled into the tent and signaled Marche to wait a minute. She changed into her old nightgown that she wore before the incident. It was a little small, but fit. She stuck a hand out to tell him to come in. She heard a loud THUMP and he came in, and sat his heavy soldier shirt down in a corner. He borrowed a deerskin blanket from Pablo and used it to cover up.
Then, he noticed Babette didn't have anything.
"You want one? Pablo's got a few." He asked innocently.
"No thanks," Then she turned over, back facing Marche. Oh boy, he thought. I need to see Ritz.
In the tent next to theirs, Pablo was listening intently for any noises. He heard some muttering, but that was it.
Babette reached over to touch an arrow to bring it close to her chest, but cut her finger on it. "Ahh ahh!" she half yelled. Marche looked to see what was wrong and said "Oh oh oh. Get it wet, okay?" He gave her a waterbottle. She poured water on her hand and said "Yes! Much better"
Now, to Pablo, he heard this "Ahh Ahh!!" "Oh oh oh, get it wet, okay?" "Yes! Much better!"
You can only imagine what he thought was going on. But, he never interrupts someone doing what they're doing. So he just tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. He went to sleep in about an hour. As did Marche and Babette, talking late into the night.
They woke up at about six. Of course, there were no watches, so they just woke up at first sign of day. There was no talking. They just packed up, and left. They reached Sphrom by nightfall, where they took the first mission that came to them: Free Sphrom.
Whew, was that a long one or what? I was making up for that whole Montblanc chapter. Now, just to alert you, I'm not exactly going to go by the game. I'm going to make up missions and stuff. But there'll still be Ritz encounters and Totema and stuff like that. Got it?