Author's Note: I don't own any of the characters, weapons or locations aside from Kiki, Burch, the EvanBlade and Lusaru City. All the rest belong to Squaresoft and are not mine. This fiction is written merely as a fan homage to the FFXII game and is not set during the game's initial storyline. Any problems, contact me. There. Boring part over!
Long before the death of the King of Dalmasca, two Sky Pirates, Balthier and Fran travelled together around Ivalesca looting and pillaging for all they were worth. These are their stories…
DESERT HIPPIES: Adventures of Balthier and Fran Episode #01: Go Wester: CHAPTER 02: "Hunter/Hunted"UNDER CONSTRUCTIONS – ADDED TO DAILY!
The sun burned down much hotter than usual and Balthier's vision was starting to blur. He stopped for a moment, guzzling down water from the pouch at his side. Fran turned to him and opening her palm, aimed a gentle yellow light at him. Within seconds Balthier had perked up and the two were making their way across the desert once more.
"You don't suppose we're lost, do you Fran?" Balthier looked cluelessely around him. Damn desert looked the same to him all over; rocks, sand, the occasional desert flower. "I fear we've gone too far… I'm sure we're meant to be heading East." He pulled out his map and quickly put it away. It was useless to him. In the sky you could see everything, it was easy to travel. He felt hopeless on the ground and it was only now how much he realised it.
"Do stop worrying about me!" he suddenly said to Fran who had stopped and turned to him, her head cocked slightly. A strange frown had planted itself on her face. "My girl, I'm all but tired, nothing more. I'm sure we're going straight towards the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea." Fran's expression was fixed and on stepping closer, Balthier noted she wasn't looking at him. He turned around.
The werewolf.
Balthier drew his longsword as Fran readied her bow, pulling the arrow back, aiming steadily at the werewolf's head. It roared deeply and went from crouching on all fours to standing on its hind legs, stretching to its full size. Balthier gulped hard and laughed nervously. "Well on the bright side we didn't have to go to the Sandsea!"
"Your humour is not well accepted at this time, Balthier!" Fran spat. The werewolf stalked slowly towards, them, playing them like puppets. The ball was clearly in its court. Without warning it lunged itself at Balthier and headbutted him, sending him flying into a nearby rock, where he hit his head sharply. He was out cold.
Panicking, Fran could do nothing but run for her life. She turned around and ran, trying to divert it so she could go back for Balthier, who was lying unscious and bleeding on the floor. Desert Rabbits were hopping about him, but thankfully, they only seemed interested in sniffing him and poking him gently with their stubby noses.
"Balthier!" she tried to call him awake, but to no avail. "Ugh!" the werewolf's mighty paws came crashing down near her, as it tried to jump on her, but Fran was athletic enough to roll out of the way. She looked toward the ship; it wasn't far, she could make it! She fired a warning shot at the werewolf and sure enough it was stopped, long enough for her to make a decent break for the ship without further interruptions. When she reached the spot under where the ship hovered, she teleported back to the ship, the only thing left of her being there was her wet tears as they dried on the hot sand.
"Fran?" Balthier stirred, jumping as he came face to face with an overly inquisitive Desert Rabbit. He shooed it away with his hand and stumbled about for a bit, blurrey eyed. It took him a moment to remember where he was; for a second he thought he had passed out drunk outside the Sandsea in Dalmasca, but the foul stench of werewolf soon brought him to his senses. "FRAN!" he yelled. She was nowhere to be seen and the werewolf had turned around. "Come on then you brute! One of our heads will end up in a sack at the end of this and I guarantee you it won't be mine."
He motioned with his hand for the wolf to come forward.
The werewolf charged.
Balthier drew his sword and braced himself for battle.
Fran sat on the floor of the ship, gasping for breath and quietly weeping. Tears ran down her cheeks but she did not wipe them away. Balthier! She thought, I'm so sorry, I have betrayed you. Deep down she knew that it was fight or flee and she knew that she couldn't have taken the werewolf alone. She peered out of the hatch, but there was no sign of the werewolf or Balthier.
She waited.
Balthier ran until every fibre of his being ached for him to stop, but the werewolf was hot on his heels every inch of the way. He stopped a short distance away and held out his hand, emitting a purple light, which blasted at the werewolf, for a moment knocking it down. It yelped like a wounded puppy and stumbled around for a second, dazed.
I knew it was worth paying 400 Gil for a Confuse Spell Balthier smiled to himself. He was normally tighter than an Imperial's suit of armour, but for once he was glad he splashed out. Whilst he had his chance he rushed the werewolf, slashing at its legs and torso one, two three, four times. The wolf screamed and yelped, thrasing about so much it managed to catch Balthier on the arm, cutting it badly.
"Back to hell with you!" Balthier bellowed. He pulled out his single-shot pistol and gently kissed the barrell. It's now or never, do or die. He cocked the hammer and aimed it at the werewolf's head, biding his time nervously for the perfect shot. The noise might alert other beasts; he couldn't afford to miss.
The werewolf, coming to its senses, stood up.
It charged. Balthier fired.
The werewolf stumbled about, its head twitching left to right and finally fell with a noisy thud, blowing dust all about. When the dust had settled, Balthier walked over carefully to ensure it was dead. He needed proof that the Mark was dead or Burch would walk off with his ship.
He studied the creature. If only it could be tamed a small pack could beat an army. Its talons were thick like steel and its teeth were sharp and strong. He reached down, cutting of the werewolf's ear. He stuffed it into his pocket and was about to turn on his heel when something around the werewolf's neck glinted and caught his eye.
"What's this?" he said to himself. "Oh my Gods!"
The creature was tamed.
Solemnly, as if it were pure sacraliege, Fran sidled over to the pilots chair and ran her fingers over the main dashboard. She shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't float over the Westersands forever. She sat down, her fingers hovering over the controls.
"I've heard of jumping in somebody's grave before, but at least wait until they're dead, eh?"
Fran spun around to see a beaten and bedraggled, but alive. She stood up as though there was a hot poker under her chair. "Balthier?!"
He nodded and winked, a grin pulling at the side of his mouth. "Fran". Fran, normally stoic and collected, threw her arms around Balthier who could think of nothing else to do but return the embrace. "Oh come now girl, you didn't think a simple werewolf would claim me, did you?" She nodded, not wanting to admit the truth. He merely laughed and waved the notion away. "Nonsense my dear, I'm all Sky Pirate. It'd take an army to bring me down."
"Are you all right?"
"Right as rain! It wasn't so tough. Turns out Burch had more to do with this Mark than just putting up a flier. He summoned it. In fact, he bloody well owned the creature." Balthier produced the ID tag he found around the werewolf's neck. It was a talisman of a high level, used to control beasts using telekenisis. Fran studied it carefully and handed it back to Balthier. "We could use this. Yes, I'd say it'd come in quite handy!"
Fran's mouth gaped. "Why would he do such a thing?"
"There's a hefty sum on both our heads, too." Balthier shrugged, rubbing his sore head. "I've no doubt that some Headhunter offered a reward in exchange for us; dead or alive. That brute. I tell you there's just no sportsmanship in the world these days."
"I see your experience with werewolves has made no small change to your ego, Balthier." Said Fran, taking a seat in the co-pilot chair. "We must get back to Dalmasca. I have a score to settle with Burch."