"These Exiled Years" by Flogging Molly, the band which basically inspired the whole fic.
Ether for Sale
or
Those Who Hunt Moogles
Chapter
Ten
Trade Secrets
"It's four in the mornin'
Battered and numb
A loaded room, an empty gun
I whistle a tune, I heard years before
The clock started tickin'
Where did the time go?"
"Guh..." Teityr raised his head, "Wuz happenin'..." Somebody was singing, and while they did have the tone down right, it was just so LOUD. Every beat was an axe to his skull, savagely pounding ins his ears, eyes, and everywhere else in his head. Slowly, the words started coming into focus, though the world around him was still blurry and spinning. Was he seasick? Could you get seasick on a Shoopuf?
"I danced to the mornin'
She called out my name
The wind was a howlin'
And down came the rain
Her arms they caressed me
Sweet was her brow
She opened my eyes
To banish the doubt...
Wash me down in all of your joy...
But don't drag me through this again-"
Teityr squinted, trying desperately to see what was happening, when realization hit him; he wasn't on a Shoopuf at all, he was lying across a table, face sticky with drool. He wiped at his mouth, every motion making him feel sick. "What's...where...who am I?"
"-I've heard all your sad songs I can hear...
It's in with the whiskey and out with the gin...
I've heard all your sad songs I can hear
It's another day older
In These Exiled Years-"
"Bad one, eh?"
Teityr turned wobblingly to the voice, and saw a bright green frogman standing there. "Froggy?"
"Yep, that's a bad one. Here. Little hair of the Skink that bit you." The frogman handed him a glass, and Teityr squinted at it suspiciously.
"Skinks don't have hair..."
"I didn't literally mean hair. Drink it, you'll feel better. Its got eggs. Among other things..."
Teityr didn't quite believe this, but between the headache and the nausea, he was willing to try anything. He picked up the drink and downed it. In the corner, the music continued unabated.
"-The dew on the ground
Blankets the face
Cold was the night
And gone her embrace
For your land of the free
Now prisons me
To rot in this jail
Of lost liberty
Wash me down in all of your joy
But don't drag me through this again-
-I've heard all your sad songs I can hear...
It's in with the whiskey and out with the gin...
I've heard all your sad songs I can hear
It's another day older
In These Exiled Years-"
As he listened to the music, the pulsing in his brain slowed to the rhythm, and the world stopped spinning. The music stopped being painful, and actually was quite pleasant to listen to. Under other circumstances, he might've even liked it, but he feared that he'd have to avoid it though association with the terrible migraine he'd woken up with, and the no-doubt humiliating circumstances that had earned it.
"How're you feeling now? Better?"
Teityr looked at the person who'd helped him, and realized his savior was still a frog. Or rather, was still dressed like a frog, so at least he wasn't as messed up as he'd believed. The odd uniform had a name sewn on the chest, "Glenn". Why anyone would dress like a frog, then sew their name on it so people would know who they were was beyond him. If he were to dress like a frog, he'd certainly never want anyone to know. A Tanuki, maybe, but that was another thing entirely.
"-Walk away, watch me as I wave
One foot here, but sure the other's in the grave
Walk away, walk away-"
The frog man seated himself, and Teityr found himself fascinated by the other man's goggles. In their reflection he could see two people arguing, and he twisted in his chair to see what was going on. A shifty looking fellow -yet not his grandfather, for once- was getting berated by another man, a skinny fellow with a big grin.
"That little fellow singing has brought everybody back to the inn! And since business is back up again, I don't have to give up my place to you, you...you...you...rumor-monger! Libelist!"
"-I've heard all your sad songs I can hear...
It's in with the whiskey and out with the gin...
I've heard all your sad songs I can hear
It's another day older
In These Exiled Years..."
"No. Oh no oh no oh no." A horrifying realization had welled up inside him, and Teityr turned around quickly, praying not to see what he expected to see. He knew it was wasted effort, but he kept praying.
"Your grandfather's pretty good. Terrible dancer though. But the ladies don't seem to mind."
Atop a bar on the other side of the room, his Jymbo Gak was dancing if you used the term loosely; kicking his feet wildly, spilling drinks and smashing glasses and patron's thumbs with equal gusto. Oblivious to his hand-crushing antics, a group of women in odd pink frog suits stood nearby, clapping as he finished his song.
Teityr dropped his head onto the table, then repeated it a few more times for good measure. "How long have I been out?"
"Since I got here a few days back. Can you believe that old broad makes us stay in the hotel? Only the guys on guard duty get to stay in ol' Seymour's place. Tch." Glenn the frog man held up a drink in a salute. "The old guy and a Hypello carried you in. Said you spent too much time in the sun on the Shopuf."
"Felt like months..." Teityr muttered, but if the man heard him, he made no sign.
The innkeeper -the skinny guy over there started serving drinks, and then the old dude just jumped up on the bar and started spouting off tunes. People started coming in droves. Lot of Hypello, lot of us Leblanc guys. In fact, we were a bit worried 'til your grampa showed up. Thought the place was gonna close. Data-seller's been pushing the innkeeper hard."
"You work for Leblanc Syndicate?" Teityr searched his scrambled brain, trying to figure out why the name was ringing bells in his head, but came up empty handed. It wasn't filling him with warm feelings however.
"Yeah. Don't bother signing up though...its not great work. I mean, you've got the fanatics that are in love with the old bat -don't tell anybody I called her that, or Ormi will eat me alive- but really, the job is pretty much about getting paid minimum wage to have real Sphere Hunters kick your ass. But enough about me. What do you guys do?"
"Uh...we sell Ether."
"Ether Salesmen. Now that's something." It was hard to tell from the tone of the frog man's voice whether he really thought it was something or whether he was simply being polite.
"I guess."
"You're last name's not O'aka is it?"
"Huh? No."
"Oh good. I kinda like you guys, and it'd be a shame to turn you over for the bosses to work you over. This O'aka character's a traveling salesman, and apparently he conned the boss lady out of a lot of Gil. Supposedly found the greatest Sphere ever, and sold it to her...I never saw it, but she wasn't happy. Of course, 'less that youth League guy's around, she's never happy." Glenn gave Teityr a 'What can you do?' shrug, and raised his glass again in another salute, then set it back on the table. Teityr's eyes followed the glass, and he wondered why the guy wasn't drinking. He was just...waving the glass around.
"SO...Ether huh. I've always wondered why there's never any of that stuff in the stores. Is it hard to make? I mean, you could go farm some Fiends, but they don't drop that many-"
"Well, we have a Moogle. He kinda excretes it from his pom-pom."
"What? Gross."
Teityr laughed. He was far from the headache and pain now, and was feeling kinda fuzzy again. "Yeah, you should try bottling it. I gotta sit there and squeeze this thing sticking off his head, while he moans like he's well...y'know."
"Sounds like your job's worse then mine."
The young man thought back on that. Fleeing Kilika, fleeing Fiends, fleeing street-preachers, and bandits and thieves and Al Bhed...Wasn't there at least part of it he missed? Aside from all the fleeing, wasn't he really having fun, despite his protestations?
He decided he was not.
"I'm sick of this. I want to go back to Kilika. I want to go see Iya." He hesitated, realizing something was amiss. "Why did I say that?"
"Well, I could blame it on the drugs, but I am pretty charming. Where are you keeping this Mog, anyways?"
"What?" Teityr said, wavering in his chair.
Glenn grinned under his mask, and leaned forward. "Do you realize what kind of promotion I'll get if I bring that Moogle to the boss? Plus, all the benefits that go with it. There's a lot of folks out there looking for you two that'll pay good money for that little bear...dog...thingy."
"You...you're trying to steal Mog?" The youth scrambled to his feet, and the world started swaying again. "Damn..."
Frog man Glenn got to his feet, calmly attaching a claw to his wrist. "Please don't. I'd rather not get violent. Its not my style."
Something slammed into Teityr from behind, knocking him onto the table. "Thank you Cyrus."
"You still pretending to be all gentlemanly?" The new attacker -Cyrus- snapped. "Just take his bag. Its shaking a lot...that'll be where the Moogle is." He put his forearm to the back of Teityr's head, holding him down against the table. Vaguely, he could hear the innkeeper shouting a request for no violence in the bar. Jymbo yelled something too, but Teityr's head was swirling madly, and he couldn't grasp it.
"No! Get off me!" Teityr struggled, but Cyrus had the leverage, and held him down.
Glenn flipped open Teityr's bag. "Now, let's see what we've got here...What the..."
"Do you got it?" Cyrus asked, and Glenn started screaming in response. "What...what's wrong with you?" the second frog man asked. Glenn collapsed, clutching his nether parts and shrieking. Mog burst out from under the table, wielding a table leg twice his height in both paws. "Let him go or I'll take ya down! Hic-upo!"
The Mog floated into the air, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar. He swung the stick around awkwardly, obviously having had too much to drink. "I'll take you on...I'll take you all on hic-upo-po...po?" He cocked his head to the side, hesitating. Everyone was staring at him, and the vast majority of the patrons were green and pink frog people. "Froggy?" Mog asked loudly, and all the chairs in the building scooted back at once.
The table broke from its missing leg, and Teityr fell forward, flipping the frog man over his head. The frog men and women descended on Mog and Teityr, while the innkeeper shrieked for peace.
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"Well...this is great. This is just...great." Shaker muttered to himself.
The Shakes family was bound, and the bandits had gagged Solt and Peppor, but left Shaker without gag because he hadn't spoken more then a whispered grumble since their capture. Even now, Solt and Peppor were mumbling to each other constantly, as though they could understand what the other was saying. The bandits were keeping mostly to themselves, chatting nonchalantly...though occasionally throwing dirty looks at the two muffled idiots beside him. When a bandit threw one of those looks his way, Shaker just shrugged.
"If you can find a way to shut 'em up, make sure you tell me."
The bandits exchanged glances, and then went back to whispering amongst themselves. Shaker sat quietly, hoping that whatever the bandits came up with involved killing Solt and Peppor, or leaving their own backs wide-open. Even a few seconds would be good...
Something large and purple landed on the floor in front of him, and for a moment Shaker thought the bandits were giving him something to eat. He looked up at them, about to snap off something sarcastic -when the purple thing bit him. Swearing and cursing, he leapt to his feet, dancing around comically as the brutal little beast kept its teeth deep in his kneecap. Finally, he kicked hard enough to send the little critter flying with a single tinny yelp of "KUUUPPPOOOO!"
Shaker forgot about the pain in his leg instantly. "Oh crap."
A woman's voice whispered suggestively, "One way to put it, my beloved..." The purple Moogle fluttered upwards on small wings, scowled bitterly at Shaker before flying over to the doorway. It landed on the shoulder of a woman as she strode in, smiling with chilling satisfaction. It landed on her shoulder, and stuck its tongue out at Shaker.
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His eyes flickered and -through great effort- opened. W'ont Wor'ky raised his embattled body to a sitting position, trying to understand how he had come to be where he was. Not 'why under the light he'd become an armor smithy' -though he wondered that often, especially at times like these, of which there had been too many- but why he was in the blackest, smelliest, and all-around most-unpleasant cave he'd ever unconsciously floated into.
...and he'd unconsciously floated into a fair number of unpleasant caves.
W'ont pried his arms loose from his case of wares, and squinted, trying to hurry his eyes' adjustment to the seemingly perpetual darkness. Every strange noise caused him to jump, and he started to fear that perhaps he was not alone in said dark cave.
Something struck the ground nearby, and he lurched to his feet, raising his case as a shield. Blinking rapidly, he realized that it had only been rocks, falling from above. He peered upwards, trying to see what might have caused the rocks to dislodge...and then elicited a tiny, unmanly shriek that he would in later accounts deny.
Somehow, he'd ended up at the bottom of the Scar. Also known as "That big hole in the Calm Lands", where the Summoners had their great final battles against Sin. Something crashed from one cliff face to another, silhouetted against the sky far far above...He was definitely not alone.
He fumbled blindly into his case, picking out several pieces by feel. He clasped them on, trying desperately to be quiet. Something shifted nearby, and he carefully pulled the NotaSword from its sheath, preparing for battle.
Flames erupted from the ground, and the cave shook violently, throwing W'ont to the ground. With a curse, he planted the sword point down, trying to regain his balance. The flames kept erupting, however, and the earth cracked...
And a massive thing started crawling forth from the ground, roaring ferociously. A creature at least ten times the size of the human that had disturbed it. The flames did nothing to help illuminate it, and in fact twisted shadows and light in a way to make it even more fearsome: a hideous mockery that nearly drove him mad just looking upon it. It snaked out tentacles, trying to catch him in its grasp. W'ont's eyes tripled in size, and he stammered, forgetting the sword he was clutching as he backed away. "S-Sin-Sinspawn!"
How the beast had survived down in the Scar was beyond him, and quite frankly, he wasn't too concerned with the specifics. W'ont turned quickly, and began scrambling up the cliff face, terror giving him a strength he hadn't possessed even in the days of his youth.
The Sinspawn struggled to free itself from the stone where it had lain dormant, trying mindlessly to get to the tasty morsel that was threatening to escape its grasp. Tentacles sliding across the stone, it didn't notice anything aside from the retreating back of the little creature.
Not even the two beasts that emerged from a small cave from beside the creature, freed by its manic thrashings. The two beasts looked upwards to the fleeing human, then turned their gaze on the Sinspawn as it floundered about blindly, still weak from its slumber. They cackled insanely, a sound frighteningly human. The Sinspawn hesitated, realizing abruptly that it was also not alone, but then the two beasts were upon it, ripping and tearing into flesh weakened from years of hibernation, soft from years of hiding in the darkness.
W'ont didn't see the horrendous swiftness the monsters dispatched the Sinspawn with, nor did he see one break away, taking the cliff face in leaps and bounds. It was nearly upon W'ont when its partner howled, calling it back. W'ont continued climbing, oblivious of the claw hovering just behind him. The beast snarled, and slid back down the Scar, back into the darkness to feed.
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