NOBIS by Hoboslayer
(beta: Hazard 13, who believes that the title should be: The COHERENT version of "war on judgement")
DisclaimerI don't own things. If I did you'd all be dead ya stupid lawyers
The night started dark and foggy, perfect for just about anything in my opinion. I looked around, actively looking for a fight.
Too bad that even the stoners and rejects that live in jagds recognize true insanity. I reflected. Oh well, there's the tavern.
" Tavern " was bending reality almost to the point where I could here it straining not to break in half. It was a run down guard post with only two walls still standing, and two huge holes in the ground. Periodically, the bartender would go over to one and pull up a bucket full of what looked like beer but stank like piss. I could see why. The other hole served as a latrine of sorts, and while most of the waste was going into the designated hole, nobody really seemed to care when some drunken reject picked the wrong one.
" What does ya want ya rich assssed bassstard? " growled the bartender at me. He was an inebriated bangaa, so drunk on piss-beer that his eyes were rolling constantly… in opposite directions.
" I'd like to meet with some of the people here who are decent fighters, and hate the judges as much or more than I do" was my clipped response. The bartender's eyes widened when his alcohol-swamped brain finally recognized my appearance.
" Ah, I can see that you've been reading wanted posters recently." I said, laughing at the bangaa's attempts to stop choking on his own saliva.
All the lizard could manage was to hack up a glob of phlegm and lunge over the top of his bar to grab for a weapon. An Excalibur II?
" Now where did a reject like you get a weapon like this?" I asked as I drew my Eclipse. The bangaa was no longer weaving on his feet. Apparently the adrenaline pumping in his veins had cleared his system. His reply was a swing that hit the ground three feet to my right.
"Still drunk I guess" Was my only thought as I ran him through repeatedly. The dead bartender's corpse dropped to the floor with a wet smack, suggesting that even the floor in this miniature hell was the crap it seemed.
"No illusions here, everything sucks about as bad as it looks like it will." I thought sarcastically. The bartender's sword went into the sheath on my waist where my old Excalibur had been. Recently I had had an idea. If I could find an alchemist of sufficient skill, then I could probably mutate holy blades into an evil version that I could actually touch.
"Now you shit-worms, who will guide me to the clan that is rumored to be hiding in this pit?" I yelled as loud as is could. A surprisingly regal human sidled up to me. He was dressed in cloths that had yet to be destroyed by the shit-hole that I had come to, to escape the palace.
"I can guide you to the headquarters of our clan." He said in clipped tones, and glanced furtively off to the left. I followed his gaze, and saw that some of the supposedly drunken 'tards had stopped moving around in staggering circles, and were now staring at the two of us.
" Can we go somewhere private, so that someone doesn't tell the judges of my presence, hoping to collect on the reward?" I asked, glaring daggers at the suddenly lucid drunks.
' Don't worry, they're mine," He said, laughing. " But I understand your apprehension, so we can leave."
" Fine." was my clipped reply.
The strange human began to lead me away from the "tavern" and it's two holes. We walked in silence across the Jagd, and came to a surprisingly well-kept building that might have been a church to the False God in better times.
" Ave Satanus" I muttered under my breath, concentrating on the pentagram on my left hand. We entered the church, and inside was a motley collection of bangaas, humans, and a Nu Mon.
" Damn, the building is in better shape than they are" I said to my guide.
" Yeah, sorta" was his offhand reply.
Seeing a new person in their midst, the clanners gravitated toward me and my mysterious helper.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said an obviously hung over soldier " Ya can't bring tha' most wanted person in tha' kingdom inta' here.
" Shut up." The soldier glared at my guide, assuming that he had made the remark.
"Now jus' one second-"
"Shut up." I said again, and this time, the soldier saw who it was.
"Ya' can't-"
"Shut up Mack," This time it was the exasperated guide. "He has more reason to hate the judges than all of us put together… Don't you?"
"Yeah, I did come to make a proposal to you that we ally with each other to attempt to oust the government, but I see I should have gone to the Hounds or Bloodthirsters."
"NO!" screamed voices from all over the cavern.
"I thought so, and I assume that this Jagd does hot belong to you, judging be your condition… and no that was NOT an insult I said as growls came from all over.
"Actually, you're quite right, this Jagd belongs to the Bloodthirstrers" Said my guide calmly. "Oh and I almost missed the best part… INTRODUCTIONS. This is Mack, our soldier. He has a wide variety of skills in other classes, but has had to go back for some remedial training. That over there is Alcest, our resident gladiator. He fully mastered everything else, except Warrior. Back there is Katrina. She changed her name from Babette, and doesn't like people to know.
"Damn." I said.
"Don't let her hear you say that, unless you want to be very dead, very fast. She's
our assassin.
"Damn."
'Shut up."
"I wasn't talking about the name."
"Oh.. Anyway, there's Emet. He's our thief at the moment, trained as a Ninja, Soldier, Fighter, and Paladin.
"Paladin…" my voice dripped contempt for the holy warriors, but in Ivalice, they had the strongest weapons, and many people became paladins just to use them.
"Finally, there's me, illusionist and black mage extraordinaire."
"Your name?" I inquired quietly.
" What?"
"Your Name. It's what your parents give you when you pop onto this miserable mudball.
"Basil."
"Wow, that sucks." I said, laughing at the way Basil winced.
"Yeah, yeah go die." He said, crestfallen.
Three hours later, in which a plan had supposedly been made to take over the Jagd, but in reality is five minutes of story time that I didn't feel like writing, the clanners followed me out of the church. I fell back toward Basil.
"Hey Basil, we really need to find an alchemist. His abilities would be extremely helpful at this point.
'Yeah well most Nu Mou outside of the Collective of Hate are all judge humpers." He said, spitting on the ground to emphasize his disgust.
"I might just be able to find one who is willing to work with us." I said slowly, thinking.
"Oh, and how are ya gonna do that huh? I just told you the situation with the Nu Mou."
"Shut up Basil."
"Grrrrr."
"Alright, alright I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," I said "I'm gonna go to the Collective's headquarters right."
"Mmmmhmm." Murmured Basil.
"Then I'm gonna break open the prison that they so famously keep their enemies in, and break us out a Nu Mou that we can train up to specs." I told my newfound clan.
"You're dead." Came back at me from all sides.
"Well guess what," I remarked, a grin playing across my features, "Two of you are coming with me," the babble increased " AND you can volunteer or be conscripted, your choice." The bangaa immediately stepped forward, as did the viera, and reassured their surprised comrades that they would return safely.
"Damn" I muttered. The viera evidently heard my remark, and swung her head toward me, glaring.
"Hold up, you've still got to help us with the battle for this Jagd!" said Basil incredulously. A chorus of "yeahs" followed this comment.
"It was never my intention not to," I said "now come on, we've got a battle to win."
The clan, which turned out to have a name so indescribable retarded that I will not write it (Couldn't think of a name) led me back to the tavern, which I learned was called the "Double Penetration" because of it's two holes, to await the arrival of the dominant clan in the area, who apparently came here every night.
I had just opened my mouth to ask whether or not Basil had the right information about the clan, when a group of obviously well off people swaggered into the bar, throwing around their rich, well-dressed weight.
"There's no way in hell that that's not them I said, drawing my sword with a hiss of metal on leather. The rest of my clan followed suit, drawing weapons: Emet had a Rondell Dagger and a Jambiya, Katrina had a Masamune, Basil had a Flame Rod, Alcest had a Flametongue, and Mack had crabs and was back at the base with a lighter and some tweezers. Then there was me. I had my Eclipse. I had left my armor back at the HQ, preferring a Reaper Cloak for this fight, and was beginning to regret the decision now that I saw the enemy troops. A fucking robe can't stop a sword, dammit.
Arrayed against us were an Alchemist, a Gladiator, a Sage, and a gunner. The gladiator was positively huge, standing head and shoulders over the rest of his clan.
The Bloodthirsters saw our weapons, and drew theirs: two staffs of unrecognizable make for the sage and alchemist, a huge beast spear for the Gladiator, and a calling gun for the gunner.
The two clans arrayed themselves for battle, forming rows, leaving me in the middle. Seeing my clan arrayed for the turn-based fighting that took the place of war in Ivalice, I seethed with anger.
" Idiots. You still fight like this?" I screamed at my new nameless clan.
" Of course," said Basil "what other way is there?"
"You have a lot to learn." I said, charging forward, and smashing my Eclipse into the gunner's head. The moogle toppled backward with a strained kupo, leaking brain matter over the muddy floor, and stopping at the bangaa's feet (scales, whatever). The huge bangaa stabbed at me with its spear, putting inhuman power behind the blow, as I discovered when I swept my sword out to push the tip away from my body. The rest of my clan charged forward, and smashed into the ranks of our enemies.
"Take the alchemist alive!" I shouted, before having to spin away, yet again, from the tip of the murderous spear. I then launched my own attack routine, whipping my blade into the side of the bangaa, making it stagger and curse, scratching but failing to penetrate the armor. The giant gladiator smashed the butt of the spear into my face.
Hazard 13:…And that's that, for now, cuz fatass hasn't finished this. Wait for the next chapter…Flames aren't welcome, but 'Slayer and me tend to attract them, so whatever.
Hoboslayer: That's great. Now get the fuck outta my story, bitch.
Hazard 13: …Dammit.
Hoboslayer: OUT.
Hazard 13:…
Hoboslayer: Good. Now fucking review, or I'll eat your families and burn down your houses.