Note- My friend posted this before, I just had to replace it so the disclaimer would be here. Sorry.
Character Disclaimer: I'd like to give a special 'thank you' to Smedile (again)DRG, Sirsmashalot DRK, Zantech MNK, and Amneok BLM for allowing me to use their characters in my story and another thank you to Zantech and Amneok for giving me a rough idea to what their characters would do in the situation. . Enjoy!
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Chapter Twelve
Bastok's streets were filled with chaos as word of the president's entrapment was found across the lips of the citizens. The news of Karst's problem in Jeuno also lead to an adventurer-led campaign against San'd Oria, exposing the king and his council and guards to have fallen by the exact same accident as Karst. Uproars from all over stormed toward Windurst, the city that seemed to have absolutely no sign of the horrible crystal accidents only to discover, deep within the Harutoto Ruins, two travelers trapped inside crystal.
San'd Oria immediately placed blame on Bastok, claiming that the rogue female white mage traveler, Aonir, was the cause of the crystallization of the king. Stating that it was an act of hate toward the great Kingdom of San'd Oria. Bastokers and Mythril Musketeers alike rallied up against the accusation. Windurst, once again left to the sidelines, forced their voices in saying that the Shadow Lord was returning. Jeuno, who was still recovering from the airship crash that had occurred six days ago, maintained a neutral standing point, allowing the three cities to bicker amongst themselves like children arguing over candy.
On Gold Street, Bastok Markets, Plureague and the remains of his party, sat inside Plureague's home, pondering their next move. The room was silent; the sound of the small clock on the wall was all that could be heard, next to their breathing. Minutes slowly ticked by, the shouts of the city seeming to be chanting. Giraenis stood by a bookshelf in the far right corner of the living room, just to the left of Plureague's chair, and stared out the window by the front door as if expecting something. Plureague's eyes were fixed inside the empty fireplace, lost deep in thought. Smedile was playing with a coin, flipping it up into the air then catching it, an attempt to entertain herself while waiting in the silence.
The silence was broken, as was Smedile's concentration as she flipped the coin too hard and had it smack the ceiling, as a knock rose from the front door. Giraenis' head shot up from its half dozed position. Plureague stood up from his chair, rather wobbly, and turned to see who was at his door. Giraenis was first to move an attempt to answer the door, as Smedile (who was closer to the door than he) did not feel comfortable answering another person's door.
Standing on the doorstep, staring up at Giraenis with her standard glare, was Tara, the black mage that had vanished in Port Jeuno during their investigation. Giraenis moved to one side to let her pass. Tara made about three or four steps into the house before being met by Plureague's hard glance.
"Where did you go?" Plureague said in a cold, parental tone of voice as he limped his way towards her.
"What's it to you?" She asked quickly.
"I said, where did you run off to? I have a right to know." He argued.
"Oh, ho!" She laughed. "What gives you this right?"
Plureague took a deep breath, "I have a right because I am you tea…"
"You're my what?" Tara snapped.
"Grr…I am the leader of this group. I need to know where everyone runs off to." He quickly stated.
"Wah, wah. Go cry up a river." Tara snapped, crossing her arms and leaning her weight onto her left leg.
Plureague spun around but then froze, his right hand clutching over his heart. Giraenis moved over to his side only to be pushed away. Smedile kept her distance, not wanting to get on Plureague's bad side. He made his way to the stairs-which were only a few steps away-before looking back to the group with a weary expression on his face.
"I have some work to do. I'll be very busy so do not come up stairs." Plureague winced.
Giraenis nodded, his expression grim and filled with worry as he said, "As you wish, old friend."
Plureague slowly made his way up the stairs, avoiding one of the steps and leaning on the wall for support since the railing was messed up. Everyone stared up the stairs as Plureague made his way up and around the corner, out of sight, until Smedile's coin hit the floor, jolting everyone back into reality.
"So, where did you go, Tara?" Giraenis asked, his voice showing interest.
Tara looked at him then to Smedile who was back to flipping her coin then shook her head hastily, "Absolutely nowhere."
"Anyone hungrrry?" Smedile asked, dropping the coin into her bag.
"A little." Giraenis said softly.
"Not really." Tara spoke, uninterested in what was going on.
"Well, I'm going to go grrrab a snack. If anything happens, I'll be sure to reporrrt it." Smedile said with a grin as she bolted out of the house.
Giraenis directed his attention back at Tara. Tara, who was staring out the door after Smedile, ignored Giraenis' existence until the Galka threw her against the wall, pinning her arms to her side.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Tara shouted.
Giraenis put his face right in front of hers, merely inches away from touching his nose to hers as he said, "Where were you?"
She looked him in the eyes with a cold stare, "What's it to you?"
"You saw Aonir did you not?" Giraenis blurted out.
Tara's eyes shot wide open, "How did you?"
"I can feel her aura on you. What did you see?" He asked, his voice harsh yet in a whisper. "Who are you with?"
"Hmm," Tara's eyes softened and a grin slid across her thin lips, "a little wise, aren't we, Galka."
"Shut the small talk, answer me." Giraenis growled.
"Fine. I saw Aonir inside Gusgen. She looked dead but I felt her life force was strong so I said nothing. She was with a man. What more do you want?" Tara said coldly, annoyed that Giraenis was squeezing her arms.
"A man, you say?" He said coldly.
"Yes, a man, now let me go." Tara argued as she struggled to free her arms.
"Who are you working with?" He snapped, jerking her still, his grip tightening.
"Ungh!" She winced. "What makes you think I'm working with anyone, you Neanderthal?"
"That crystal. I've seen it once before in my travels. Who are you with?"
She looked at him as if he were insane before she opened her mouth and stated, "That is not of your concern."
Giraenis pushed even closer, his face right on hers, his eyes staring straight into hers. Tara continued her stare while trying hard to push away from him. She struggled and twisted but the more she tried the tighter his grip became, causing more pain and discomfort.
"Look, here, asshole. Let me go." She demanded.
"What is your goal?" He asked, his tone softening.
"To gather information and that is all you're getting from me." Tara stated just as Smedile burst through the door with several bags in her hands.
She stopped in the doorway and stared at Giraenis and Tara. The two stared right back at her, both holding the same expression of surprise on their faces. Smedile chuckled and placed the bags down on a side table then examined the two carefully with a grin upon her face.
"Did I walk in on something?" She said with a laugh.
"No, you did not. Who in their right mind would want to date a Galka?" Tara argued, managing to free herself and slip away.
"Hmph." Giraenis grunted.
Smedile grinned, "Well, I got some food from the taverrrn...took a shortcut behind the rrresidential houses."
"I was trying to get answers." Giraenis stated, completely ignoring Tara's glare.
"I'm going outside. I think I'll see about that uproar." Tara said with annoyance.
Smedile let Tara walk passed her then ran to Giraenis.
"Did you get anything out of herrr?" She asked.
"Not much. I found out that Aonir is still alive. Gusgen hasn't killed her yet." He said while he made his way to a chair.
"How long will that be?" Smedile asked as she followed him.
"Not sure. I don't think she'll die…not easily…not after what Plureague did to her when she was little." Giraenis said as he sat.
"What did he do?" Smedile said quickly, her voice somewhat upset.
He looked Smedile over and then sighed. "Plureague hates what he did."
Smedile growled, "What?"
"Aonir was born into a family of black mages but, for some odd reason, the mother did not want their daughter to be a black mage." Giraenis explained. "It was raining that night, horrible rain, Aonir showed no sign of black magic, she was around two years old. I was the one that picked her up and took her to Plureague. Plureague did an act that would have had him killed that night." Giraenis lowered his head as he spoke. "He took what little dark power Aonir possessed and swapped it with the light power held within a young black mage. The two children became somewhat man-made full-mage." He looked to Smedile who had her jaw wide open. "We lost track of the young black mage during the raid, just as we had lost Aonir's parents. Plureague took Aonir as his student and swore that when she came of age, her current age, he would tell her everything. Her power is unstable. It will forever remain unstable."
"Man-made mages are almost uncontrollable. To keep her in control, he limited her contact with the outside world and even limited her lessons." Giraenis stood up and walked over to a window. "And I think Aonir knew he was hiding something from her for all those years. This is why I let her run off that day."
"Rrrun off?" Smedile asked.
"Yes, before she ran off, Plureague and myself went to get a mission. When we returned to this house, I sensed Aonir was not nearby and I stopped Plureague from discovering it. Unfortunately, he realized what I had done in Windurst when the notice of her arrest was reported."
"Wow. So, when you say she's unstable, what do you mean?" Smedile asked with a nervous tone of voice.
"The power of a man-made full-mage is unstable because that power is not natural to the body. With time and training, as well as stress, that power can grow at different rates than a natural mage. I would not be surprised to find that she could do all that Plureague can do, if not more, by now."
"What of the black mage?" Smedile asked.
"Who knows where she could be. She may have died during the raid. Her powers, should she be alive, would be unbelievable. Black mages use magic more so than white mages. You can imagine, if the power development is roughly three times faster than natural mages, and power grows by how much stress the person is put under and how much they use their magic."
"Then the mages could hold the powerrr of five full mages." Smedile said with her mouth agape.
"Yes. Plureague hates that he did that for the family. Especially since now he is too afraid to tell Aonir she is not a pure white mage." Giraenis said as he shook his head.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Plureague sat, needle and thread in hand, cloth in his lap, mending and sewing as hard as his weak body would allow. He sat in a doublet, much fancier than the plain doublet, as he worked on the vibrant white and red cloth that rested in his lap. The lantern on the side table flickered as the setting sun basked a soft orange glow upon the cloth. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed, staring out the window.
"I've nearly finished. Just a little longer…I beg you." He whispered under his breath.
Outside of town, Tara stood in the shadow of Vomp Hill with her arms folded firmly over her chest and her eyes closed. From the shadows beside her, Thorin appeared, slipping out from within them. He looked at her, his expression filled with annoyance.
"What do you want?" He asked.
She looked over to him with an evil grin upon her face, "I think it's time you met your end."
"Ha!" Thorin laughed. "By who?"
"You desire to know?" She asked with a grin.
"Yes. Show me the person who you say will kill me."
"If you truly wish to know, stay around Bastok." She said with an evil smirk.
Thorin looked at her for a moment then huffed, leaning against the side of Vomp Hill. His scythe slide across the rocks making Tara wince from the loudness of the noise. Thorin only grinned at the fact he had caused discomfort to the arrogant black mage and simply repeated the action for an extra kick.
"How are the beasts taking this wait? You know the master is not pleased." Thorin stated slyly.
Tara shook her head, "How do you think a mass of monsters with some intellect are taking the delay of the rebirth of their leader. Some have already shown signs of revolt."
Thorin laughed, "You're losing your touch."
"Nonsense."
"It's true," Thorin explained as he pushed away from the mountainside, "Ever since you had to team up with that Elvaan you've gone soft."
"On what grounds do you state that?" Tara shouted, standing straight.
"Simple, why else would you defend that girl?" Thorin said with a grin.
Tara glared at Thorin, slipping her hand into her pocket to grasp the crystal within. "Any other comments?"
"Heh, bring your threats. I care not." Thorin said coldly.
Tara turned her back to him and stormed off toward the city. Thorin burst into laugher, removing his scythe from his back and leaning it against a rock. Night was falling over the wasteland that was Gustaburg. It was not until a strange chill filled the air that Thorin froze in his place.
"Are you the one that has been tainting the job of Dark Knights around Vana'diel?" A male voice stated.
"I taint no job. I simply do my job with a type of professionalism that other Dark Knights fail to include." Thorin stated coldly as he turned to see the figure of an Elvaan.
"I'll ask this once, and only once, either change how you perform or cease your profession as a Dark Knight. You're actions have made it extremely difficult for others to even co-exist with others." The Elvaan stated as he took a few steps closer to Thorin, the great sword upon his back glistening in the moonlight as his white hair, pulled back neatly, and swayed in the gentle breeze.
Thorin lifted his scythe and stared at the Elvaan for a moment before laughing, "What kind of Dark Knight are you? Wielding something as innocent looking as that dinky sword. A real Dark Knight holds a scythe, the symbol of death, and knows how to use it with the maximum effect but with little effort."
"What fool would limit his resources by cutting off contact with others and proper experience with foreign forms of warfare?" The Elvaan stated quickly. "Such weakness cannot be fixed by any ability."
"HA!" Thorin laughed as he slid his scythe into proper grip. "Who are you to call me weak?"
"Sir Smash…I am called Sir Smashalot. You, my fellow Dark Knight, are not worthy of even holding the scythe you hold so dear. You are a disgrace to Dark Knights." Sir Smashalot said sternly as he slid his great sword from it's place and pointed the tip at Thorin.
"Fine. A battle you want, a battle you get." Thorin said with a smile. "Just fresh meat to me."
Sir Smashalot stood firm as Thorin began a mad dash toward him, scythe edge close to the ground signifying a possible vertical slice from rib to shoulder. Sir Smashalot lowered his head, his eyes focused on the charging Dark Knight. The scythe tapped the ground once, only feet away from Sir Smashalot then was slid upward. Smash pushed the blade of his sword down and stepped to the left. The blades clashed but Thorin refused to allow a lock. Thorin tilted the scythe blade on its side then darted around. Smash pulled the great sword over to his right side, allowing the blade to partially rest on his shoulder, as he took off after Thorin. Thorin grinned and spun the scythe around, swapping hands, just before he stopped his dash. Smash, however, did not stop his dash. Thorin froze, his eyes shot wide for only a moment when he saw, what appeared to be the shadow of a black, winged-dragon fly from behind Sir Smashalot's darting figure.
"The hell?" Thorin shouted, just barely managing to move to the side as the great sword slide across his arm, sliding just under his armor and cutting his skin.
Thorin rolled to the side, dust flew up as he disturbed the ground, his right arm clutching his left. His scythe rest in his left hand but the sudden scare caused him to lose focus. This was an advantage to Sir Smashalot.
"Damn!" Thorin snapped. "This is getting no where."
"Then agree to change your ways and this will stop." Sir Smash stated, resting his weapon at his side.
"Heh, heh, heh. Hah, hah, HA, HA, HA! Never! You foolish bastard!" Thorin said as he rose to his feet, chuckling all the way. Sir Smash took a step back as he watched Thorin hold his scythe into the air. "Weapon of Blood to drain thy will, Stealer of Souls to assist me, for this fight, all or nothing, I combine these skills with my LAST RESORT!"
"Hmm…" Sir Smash mumbled.
"Time we found out who the true Dark Knight is." Thorin laughed as his scythe shown for a moment. He looked to Smash, his eyes red and filled with rage. "Time to become a part of me."
Thorin darted forward, slashing horizontally in an attempt to catch Smash's chest. Smash just had enough time to raise his blade to block but the force behind the blow was stronger than it had been. Thorin was relentless now, slash after slash, he pushed against Sir Smash, every so often managing to cut into the Dark Knight and drain his life force. Trickles of blood dabbled on the dusty ground, droplets from both Dark Knights as Sir Smash finally broke from Thorin's attacks.
"Damn it! Wore off." Thorin grumbled.
"That so?" Sir Smash said with a weary grin. "What did you hope to gain from that?"
"Shut the hell up, ass hole. That would have wiped you out had my arm not been injured." Thorin shouted.
"Arrogant little cur!" Sir Smash yelled.
"If you want me to stop, you'll have to kill me. You'll have to do that, the act that is instinct to Dark Knights." Thorin said as he fell to his knees. "But you don't have it in you, do you, runt." Sir Smash lowered his blade and just stared at Thorin. "Ha, I knew you couldn't. You're a worthless Dark Knight."
"No, you are the worthless one." Sir Smash explained, "I am not as weak as you. If I killed you, I'd become that which I hate."
Thorin laughed. "Do you like this world?"
"Why do you ask?" Smash asked.
"Because, I smell blood on the air, fire and smoke. Hell has broken upon this land and my master will see it to destroy the world that people love. All to restore the true master to his throne!"
Smash looked up toward Bastok to see a raging fire had taken place and that several Elvaans were storming the town. His eyes shot wide as he gazed upon the fiery red banner that was San'd Oria's flag, his home nation. Thorin laughed loudly, filling Smash with even more rage.
"The blood of the people of Vana'diel is burning…war is coming to the land again…love and life shall fade and the dark lord shall rise once again!"
"Urge…to kill…man kind…rising…" Smash mumbled to himself.
"Ha, ha! Feel the darkness in you, let it take hold! Become a true Dark Knight." Thorin shouted.
"YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER MY SOUL!" Smash shouted, darting passed Thorin and toward the war that was taking place just minutes away.
Inside the walls, Tara struggled to make her way through the crowded streets to return to where Plureague and the others were based. Smedile, on the other hand, managed to show just how agile a Mithra could be by walking along the railings and jumping from place to place.
"Giraenis!" Smedile shouted. "Scouts are saying there is a couple on a chocobo heading toward town. Both in miner's attire! Think one could be that girl of yours?"
Giraenis stood in silence, the quakes from explosives shaking the house and breaking windows. "Perhaps…no…it must be."
"How do you think she managed to escape?" Smedile asked.
"She is a mysterious girl but, for now, you must escape from Bastok. I must wait here with Plureague."
"What!" Smedile shouted. "You mean he STILL hasn't left his room?"
Giraenis shook his head.
Meanwhile, in the streets, the Mythril Musketeers were having trouble keeping San'd Oria's raid under control while escorting civilians out of the battlefield that was spreading towards the Port from both Mines District and Markets. Tara found refuge upon the rooftop of the residential district. The smoke from the fire did little to faze her and she did enjoy a good battle, but the screams were becoming somewhat repetitive. No thrill, partially due to her not being the cause.
Just below in the streets, a man with reddish hair darted through the streets. Tara watched as he made his way from port, in front of Metalworks-which had been sealed-, then up the steps into the square. Upon his head rest the mask of a tiger, his orange outfit intimidating in themselves as the claws upon his hips clanked as he made his way into the streets.
"Blow the bridges!" He shouted as he darted down the stairs, drawing his claws from his sides as he ran, slashing the throat of a nearby Elvaan warrior. Several Mythril Musketeers rushed toward Metalworks to grab some explosives while others formed small blockades around the pathways. The bridge to mines was heavily guarded. Several units stood at the entrance, only to be shaken by an explosion from mines.
"Amazing how quickly guard drops in this age!" A San'd Orian guard laughed as he slit the throat of a Musketeer. "Drop down into Dangruf and a quick divide, then it's so long, Republic."
"For the King that you have slain!" Several soldier shouted.
"Zantech!" A Tarutaru shouted, halting the monk from his assault.
"What is it?" He shouted.
"Find a few more Black Mages around town and have them blow up the bridge, Metalworks has been sealed off." The Tarutaru said quickly. "Thataru is the only way the bridge will be blown."
"You've got to be joking, Amneok!" Zantech groaned.
"No. There are too many people thataru care for the city's appearance over survival. You'll have to grab black mages and blow it by forcey-worcey."
"Great, black mage recruitment time…" Zantech said with noted sarcasm. Zantech took a few steps away as the Tarutaru darted toward port before shouting. "HEY! You're a black mage!"
"Yeparu! But! I have my own plans!" Amneok laughed.
"Oh, come on! Finding decent Black Mages is a pain in the ass sometimes! I guarantee they are having the time of their lives and wouldn't want to stop to blow up a bridge." Zantech complained, smashing the face of a nearby thief.
"It's not hard at all. Trust a Taru." Amneok said with a smile as she darted off toward port.
It was at that moment that roughly seventeen Tarutaru, wearing Black Mage attire, dashed by Zantech's feet. Each and every one of them joining Amneok in her secret plan. Zantech stood with his mouth agape for a moment as he watched, almost stumbling on a few of the running Tarutaru. He shook his head in disbelief then resumed his quest to find people to help him blow the bridge up.
Tara laughed to herself for a moment until she caught the eyes of rage staring at her from Firewater Circle. An Elvaan with white hair staring at her, hatred in his gaze matched only with the fierceness of the undead. Crowds swarmed around him in the streets, not even caring about the large sword upon his back. The Elvaan began pushing his way through the crowd, his gaze never once leaving Tara's form. It was only when he stood before the residential district did the staring contest begin. Both Tara and the Elvaan stood in silence among the panicked citizens.
"You did this." The Elvaan shouted.
"What calls you to this assumption?" Tara stated.
"I can sense your power. You're not a normal mage."
"Heh, so I'm not. Big deal. What is it you want?"
"I am Sir Smash of San'd Oria. What has possessed you to create another war?" Smash asked angrily.
"Nothing. I'm just following orders. Whatever happens is simply coincidental."
"LIES!" Smash yelled.
Tara jumped from her rooftop perch to look the dark knight in the eye. "Join your nation in their fight. I hold no ties to this battle. It was San'd Oria's choice."
With that said, Tara walked toward the fountain, a grin across her thin lips at the thought of starting another war. Perhaps the war, she thought, would be more than when the Shadow Lord existed. She chuckled as she walked and continued to do so until she heard a massive explosion. The explosions came from the entrance to the Mine's District, over near Gold Street and, due to her expertise, sounded like it was a magical explosion. She rushed across the square as fast as she could, carefully jumping over the fallen bodies of both Bastok and San'd Oria that lay cluttering the street. Smoke was rising, dark billowing smoke and the scene only came into view as she stood before the stairs. The bridge had been blown, several people were swimming, and dying, in the water below. On the side of the bridge, in orange, was a monk cheering happily.
She glanced behind her to see that the few remaining soldiers in her area were moving back toward the port. She clenched her fists in annoyance at all that was happening. These morons could not fight a decent war no matter what the cause, she thought to herself as she turned to face the entrance to markets. It was at that moment that another series of loud explosions were heard coming from port. Tara shook her head.
"Argh! Can't anyone fight?" She said to herself.
"Help! Someone!" A voice shouted.
Tara looked up to see a man walking through the gates with someone in his arms. The man was limping slightly and there was something staining his clothes. The breeze brought the smell of blood to Tara's nose, causing it to bunch up in disgust. When the smell passed, she grinned, sliding her hands together.
"Looks like I get to have some fun at last." Tara whispered.
"Coming!" Giraenis' loud voice boomed as he shot passed Tara, bumping against her right arm.
"Blasted, Galka, watch where you're running!" Tara shouted angrily.
Giraenis did not seem to hear her so she placed her hands together again, grumbling as she did so. It was then that Smedile darted through, bumping into her as she ran after Giraenis. This, just like before, stopped her casting. She growled but knew that since the two of them were near the travelers, there was no way she could attack at get away with it. She dusted off her uniform and scowled at them until the dark knight from before walked over.
"What do you want?" Tara said in annoyance. "If you want to fight me, I'll go ahead and tell you that you don't stand a chance."
"I'm not here to fight you. Just thought I'd let you know your friend is unable to work." Sir Smash said with a grin.
"How can you be a dark knight and be so innocent?" Tara asked.
"I control the power…the power doesn't control me." Sir Smash stated as he turned and walked toward port.
It was at that moment that Giraenis, now holding a girl in his arms, Smedile, and the man that walked in carrying the girl originally were rushing back toward the ruins that was Gold Street. Tara was just about to sigh when she recognized the girl being carried was Aonir.
"How the hell?" Tara exclaimed aloud.
"We have to get them inside." Giraenis stated coldly.
"But, they were suppose to be," Tara began but quickly caught herself before she blew her cover. Tara waited until the group was out of earshot before continuing her rant. "So, she lived. I think she owes that paladin a favor. Damn it! Don't think you've won just yet, white mage. You've only just changed the rules of the game. This time, the rules are going to be rougher than you could ever imagine."