Vana'diel: Crystal of Darkness
Chapter II: Into Gustaberg
The sun perched high in the afternoon sky. Cirrus clouds streaked across the sky as blue as the inlet of ocean below it in the Bastok port area. The city was built as if carved out of the Gustaberg mountains surrounding it. Every building was of stone, large grey and white structures that rose above the cobblestone streets. On the west edge of the port area a stone bridge spanned the inlet; a wooden drawbridge on the east to allow the airships to enter and leave. White flags with a blue gear in the center draped off of some of the buildings, the symbol of Bastok. Sea birds swooped about through the sky, letting off distant calls every now and then, mixing with the sound of the ocean waves slapping up against the stone walls to create a sensation of peacefulness.
Staring off at the airship departing from the port as the drawbridge rose, a young Hume man who looked no older than twenty leaned up against the stone wall. The sun bounced off of his light blue eyes, and the breeze escaping off of the ocean caused his messy auburn hair to sway with the wind. He wore a black tunic, striped with a checker pattern down the middle, and strapped to his back was a black bladed great sword with a streak of silver along the edge of the blade. The Hume brushed his bangs from his eyes that parted down the center and hung down to his slightly curved nose, then turned away and walked west down Harbor Way. Several people walked passed him, mostly Humes and Galkas, who occupy most of the city, giving him awkward glances at the large sword strapped to his back. The Hume fingered the black gem necklace around his neck, then after tucking it back into his tunic, dug his hands into his pockets and lowered his head, looking away from the staring eyes. He shifted the weight of the sword and stumbled forward a little. What are they staring at? Not like I'm the only one with a sword. He tried not to think how foolish he must look, a relatively small Hume trying to lug around a sword almost as tall as himself.
The Hume made his way down the street towards the Steaming Sheep Restaurant, but stopped when he noticed a large crowd that had gathered in front of the restaurant. Curious, the young man walked up and tapped an old Galka raising his head for a clearer view on the shoulder, who half turned around and grunted questioningly. "Whats going on?"
"Ayame is back from the east, Elshimo they say. Word has it the samurai managed to hack her way from Tonberry captivity..."
"Ayame..?"
The Galka scoffed, "You're living in Bastok and down known of Ayame, the Iron Musketeer?"
"Well... I've only been here for a little while." The Hume mumbled, face flushed. The Galka shrugged him off and went back to his feeble attempt at getting a peek past the crowd. The young man gave up on getting to the restaurant and turned a corner towards the nearest pub.
Just then a Mithra bowled through the crowd of people, knocking a few down in the process. She didn't seem to know (or care) where she was going as she belted through the streets. "STOP! THIEF!" A pudgy man who was chasing the Mithra through the streets yelled after her. His face was red and chubby, his head balding and gleaming with sweat, "Give me back my Gil!" The Mithra glanced back at the man and stuck her tongue out at him, then darted around the corner and disappeared from view.
The Hume was strolling towards the pub when suddenly something slammed into him from behind, sending him flying to the stone road. Blinking the spots from his eyes and letting out a groan of pain, he rolled over to see a dazed Mithra sprawled on top of him, her shorter than shoulder length blond hair in a mess, and her eyes dazed, her tongue hanging out of her mouth like one who's had too much to drink. She shook her head wildly, her memory coming back after getting knocked from her head by the collision. "Hey! Watch where you're going you stupid-" Her head began to clear, and her eyes started to focus on the moron who, she believed, caused the wreck, "Oh, it's you."
"Ugh... Net?"
The Mithra hopped up and pulled the Hume to his feet, tossed him behind her and sprinted off recklessly again. "Thanks Ith!" She called back without even looking back. Confused, he turned around just in time to witness a large, angry man charging towards him. One single thought entered his mind: Damn cats. The large man slammed into Ithilsul, and proceeded to beat on him with a claim that he let the girl escape with his Gil until Ithil was seeing stars.
Bruised and weary, Ithil pushed open the doors to the pub and staggered inside. He went straight to the bar and sat down, laying his head flat on the bar. "Bartender, I'll have a Bloody Moogle- the drink, mind you- with a side of... er..." He raised his head and stared at the men next to him, his face breaking into a crookedly frightened look. Next to him two Elvaans with guns stood glaring at him, along with their gun barrels. His eyes drifted from the gun barrels to a surprised Tarutaru with messy blond hair and a white and red cloak between them, who's eyes also focused on the intruder. "Epsil?" He muttered. Suddenly Ithil realized there was no one else in the pub.
The Hume jumped from his seat and quickly backed away towards the door, his right hand nervously rubbing the back of his head as he chuckled fearfully, "Looks like I came at a bad time, I'll just come back later. OK bye." He turned to dash out the door, but was halted by the sound of a shotgun loading.
"You aren't going anywhere." The first Elvaan, a tall man with his black hair tied into a ponytail commanded. Knowing Epsil, these were private loan sharks wanting to collect their debt from the money hungry Tarutaru.
The Tarutaru grinned mischievously at Ithil and in one swift motion, hopped onto the table, kicked both Elvaans in the back of the head and was gone before they could turn around. The debt collectors turned back around, "You! It's your fault we lost him! Either we're getting our 2,000 Gil, or we're getting your hide, and it looks like our chance at the Gil just took off." In unison they threw up their guns and locked onto the unfortunate Hume.
"Heheh... sorry about that... I'll just be... um... yeah." Ithil spun around and dived out the door and quickly bolted down the street. Two gun shots boomed through the street as the debt collectors charged out of the pub. Still frantically running for his life, Ithil glanced back at them and let out a groan of desperation. Two more shots shook the streets, causing the Hume to stumble in an attempt to dodge the bullets that connected to the ground showers of sparks not a yard away from him
Panting, Ithil leapt into an alley and in a half-stumble, half-run, due to the weight of his sword combined with panic, and zigzagged through it. A small blond head with beady eyes, pointed ears and a button nose and a freakishly large grin on it's face popped up in front of him, causing the Hume to recoil in shock, tripping backwards to the ground while he let out a scream worthy of an eight year old Mithran girl.
"Hei der Ithy-withy!" The Tarutaru hopped onto his chest and peered down at the dazed Hume, obviously satisfied with the shock he delivered, he gave Ithil a little slap in the face.
Between gasps for breath, Ithil sighed and said wearily, "Ep... do that again and I'm going to have to shove you in a flower sack and chuck you into a river." Epsil chuckled and hopped off of his chest.
The Hume sat up and looked around his safe hold. The alley was dark and narrow, the same grey stonework of surrounding buildings on two sides, and an old wooden fence blocking the back. Scattered crates and old wooden boxes lay carelessly around. Luckily the Elvaan debt collectors seemed to have lost him. Finally, he glared at his pint sized companion. "What where you doing back there? You said you'd stop borrowing money from those guys."
"I did! And I haven't doney-wony it since!" The Tarutaru piped, "Besides, it's not borrowing if you never intend to give it backy-wacky."
Ithil eyed Epsil narrowly, "What about the 2,000 Gil you owe me?"
"Er... hey, look behind you!"
"I'm not falling for that stupid tri-" Ithil was shoved facedown to the ground from behind. Before he could utter a sound two hands clasped over his eyes.
"Guess who?"
"Arg! Nettin!" Ithil pulled himself free of her and stood up, dusting off his tunic. The brown haired Mithra plopped down on the nearest crate, soon joined by Epsil, who she poked in the head a few times to his annoyance. She wore a short shirt with an open green vest over it with brown shorts. A thick belt with several pouches wrapped twice about her waist (one that appeared to be a bag of Gil that she didn't have before). A single green ribbon was tied around her right arm, two daggers hung sheathed at her belt. Her brown hair was banged by a red and white hair band, from which two cat-like ears protruded from underneath. Large, brown eyes shined with mischief, and her slim light brown tail swayed back and forth. "Any more and I'll have to get a bigger sack." He muttered.
"Huh?" Nettin halted picking at her sharp canines and cocked up one eyebrow.
"You," Ithil pointed an accusing finger at Nettin, who stared blankly back at his finger, "you're not supposed to steal from people. I was hoping that for once we could leave a city without being wanted for theft."
Nettin shrugged, "We're leaving to Jeuno anyway, why not make it a little more interrresting?" The last word she emphasized with a purr. Ithil felt a small shudder at the mention of Jeuno. Bad memories of the area. "Besides, no one likes this ugly town full of ore-heads. Nothing but a bunch of rocks around here. Windurst on the other hand is prrreettyy with the big tree and the water and bridges..." She rambled on and on.
Ithil shot a glance of annoyance at the Mithra. He and Epsil were native Bastokans, which was all he really knew about his early childhood. Nettin, on the other hand, was Windurstian, although she knew it only from what the people of her old orphanage told her. Still, ore-head was an offensive term San d'Orians would use towards Bastokaners, specifically Galka and Humes. I guess she picked some things up from those five years in San d'Oria. Brushing this thoughts aside, the Hume eased his gaze, "The next airship departs to Jeuno in about an hour if I remember right, so try not to get us killed within that time period, Okay?"
"Sure." The Mithra and Tarutaru said indifferently.
Ithil sighed, "This has got to be the laziest linkshell in all of Vana'diel."
"Yep." Both said again with the same hint of indifference. Nettin seemed more interested in poking and annoyed Epsil.
"Yeah, well, we've got to meet up with Kat in Jeuno so we can get those chocobo licenses. I can't stand walking so much," Ithil kicked the dirt, "and of course these damned pearls don't seem to be working. Can't even talk to her," He withdrew from his belt pouch a small blue pearl, and held it up to his ear, "Nothing. I spent 8,000 Gil to get these things and they wont even work half the time." He dropped it back into the pouch, then reached for his necklace again. Suddenly Ithil gulped and dived to the ground, crawling and searching without giving time for an explination.
"Looking for something?" Nettin bent over him, chuckling and dangling the necklace with a small black jewel over his head.
"Hey! Give me that!" Ithil jumped up for it, but she pulled it back. He tried again to no avail, until he began chasing her around the alley trying to get it back, Nettin laughing the whole time.
The laughter was cut short by the shouts and complaints of what clearly seemed to be an angry mob coming their way. Ithil and Nettin froze in place, Epsil was already over the fence. As the mob approached, it's vast shadow stretched onto the wall. Net tossed the necklace at Ithil, which slapped into his face and fell to the dirt. In a second she was over the fence. Finally, the Hume unfroze and snatched up the necklace before running towards the fence. He dived up and scrambled over the fence, once more being weighed down by his sword, then landed on the other side in a crouched position as a shot fired, blowing a hole through the fence only inches from his face, causing him to flinch and spring forward with greater speed. TOO CLOSE.
He took off at a run, his companions up ahead near the city gates motioning for him to hurry. Behind he could hear the sound of wood snapping and shots firing, a mob yelling in rage. One little thief and a money hungry Tarutaru caused all this?! Yet I'm always the one taking the beating! The mob was closing in on him, his blade weighed him down so much, yet he couldn't just dispose of it. A rock whizzed past his face. Great, they're close enough to kill me with pebbles now. Sweat beaded down his face. His pace was slowing too much. I have to do something..!
Without even thinking, Ithil whipped around and drew the great sword from his back and held it in front of himself defensively. The mob stopped in it's tracks. Ithil's legs quivered when he saw the size of it- at least fifty people! The Elvaan gunman with his hair in a ponytail still advanced towards him. He aimed his gun and fired directly at Ithil's head, who gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, awaiting the pain of a bullet ripping through his flesh. When he opened his eyes, his sword was raised defensively over his face. The mob looked as stunned as Ithil was in his mind. On the ground a single smoking bullet lay there, flattened by the collision with Ithil's blade. Mind fogged, not entirely sure what he was doing, Ithil dived at the gunman and slashed upward, splitting the gun in two in the blink of an eye. He jumped backwards to where he stood before, holding his sword in a battle stance with an evil look in his eyes. He felt to alive, so excited, so blood thirsty. Whats going on?! The Elvaan cowered back, utter fear had overtaken his face. He dropped the handle of the gun- all the was left of it- and pushed aside the crowd and took off.
When the clouds cleared from his mind, Ithil realized what was going on once more. Panic overtook his face as he quickly shoved his sword onto his back once more and sprinted off. The mob, now refueled after what appeared to be an attack on them, took off after the Hume in even more fury. Epsil and Nettin waited just inside the tunnel leading out to Gustaberg, motioning him to hurry. Ithil looked over his shoulder at the mob, then back to Epsil, who now had his head bowed. He was casting something. Catching on, Ithil dive rolled forward into the tunnel as Epsil casted a barrier on the entrance, just in time for the mob to collide into it and bounce back. Epsil snickered and took off through the tunnel after Nettin. Ithil stared at the barrier relief, he couldn't help but laugh looking at the mob of people who lay on the ground after running straight into a Protect spell covering the tunnel. He staggered up and hurried after his companions. That sensation... is that just the adrenaline taking over..? Yes... it must be.
The lighted tunnel wound through the Gustaberg mountains for a short distance until opening up into the North Gustaberg region. Nothing but a barren valley lay before them, dead trees scattered the landscape and grey mountains rose up all around them. The land looked as if it could of once been beautiful, but a long going lack of rainfall and mineral sediment poisoning to the land caused the region to look barren and foreboding. Ithil surveyed the landscape. The land outside of the city gates was dangerous, that he knew for sure firsthand from his travels to San d'Oria when he was younger. Quadav constantly patrolled the region. These turtle looking beastmen hate Bastok, and any of the five races whether they're associated with Bastok or not.
The trio sighed and trudged forward, it was a long road to Jeuno. Long and dangerous. They were without supplies due to their untimely escape from town. Those could be retrieved at an outpost somewhere around here. Suddenly Ithil groaned when he realized they didn't even have a map. Even worse, he was traveling with a Mithran thief who had a little too much excess energy and a Tarutaru white mage who had a price on his head. He fingered his necklace again. This wont be easy. They continued north as the sun set in the west, turning the valley red as blood.