Ok chapter three is up. I have had a few hits on the story, but no reviews. So if you're reading plz review! Just to let me know how Im doing and all and whatnot.

Disclaimer: I don't own final fantasy, but this story is mine all mine! Although it is based off of ff it has no ff characters.

The walls of the city stood tall and were covered with years upon year's worth of vines and molds. They shone out against the yellow field with an earthy green hue, and were soft and fuzzy to the touch. This particular trait is what gave Damsunth its name of "The Green City", which it was so commonly called by outsiders.

Damsunth's walls held four large gates on either side, and each of those gates came equipped with two of the capital's guards (which by no doubt were looking for our thief in particular). You could see the peaks of the royal palace, located at the capital's heart, high above the rest of the city looming like great swords over the walls.

His arrival at the southern wall was met with an unfortunate adversary. As the thief sat hidden among the bushes not but a few yards away, the guard stood awaiting any traveler that needed access to the city ("And any runaway bandit that tried to sneak back home," he thought bitterly.).In the back of his mind he knew all along that this would happen; night was falling, and naturally the highly paid city guard would be ready to earn their salary.

He cursed his foul luck, and peaked around the bushes for a better look. Cool air swept down the field, and rustled the leaves of the plants that offered him shelter, and he froze in place. The thief could see the guard at their usual duty. They stood at either side of the gate shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. Their eyes pointed directly over Forigh towards the Wood. The helmets upon their heads shone with a dull gleam in the lowering sun.

The small bits of earth and twigs began to sting his palms, and he returned to his crouched upright position. The thief sat with legs and arms crossed with no hope of returning until daylight rose once more from the horizon and the guard made their morning rounds of the districts. He knew for certain that the fields held no promise for him, nor did any of the other gates. And so the sun disappeared along with the roos, and our thief drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Slow floating dreams swam through his head, the air around him cooled, and the night became silent. The guard standing at the gate soon became weary and sat down with their helmets in hand to rest before the shift, where to more men would take their place. Rarely did one ever come by south gate to the city during the night because of the shadow of the Wood"¦rarely.

The thief sat with his head in his hands drooling down his sleeve not knowing of what was to come, and deep within the package he carried, something began to stir. A tingling ran up his back, and the skin on his bones began to stretch and to become soft. This, of course, roused him from his slumber, and he whipped to drool from his cloths.

Off in the near distance the wheels of a wagon were turning. Upon this wagon sat a young merchant accompanied by his commodities. Closer and closer it came to the bushes were the thief was hidden, and so did he become aware.

"You! Old man!" a voice rang out through the night. The thief crouched ever lower in his hiding place wondering who could be traveling to the southern wall at this time. "What are you doing there?" The voice became ever clearer. Still the thief remained silent. He could now see the wagon approaching closer to where he sat.

He could hear the guard shuffle and rise to their feet. His heart pounded in his chest. The wagon man had given him away! Blood rushed threw his veins at an alarming speed, and the thief looked in every direction for a place to run. He could not risk going into the Wood again. But it as too late. The guards' heavy armor clanked as they ran towards the wagon. All he could do was sit as still as stone.

"Who are you? And what is it that you are talking about?" They asked the merchant.
"My name is Lie'f. I am a merchant from Cail'em to the east of here, but you should be worried about the old man there and not me."

"Old man?" The thief thought. "I am no old man." The contents of the stolen package pulsed again.

Dismay and horror swam threw him as the guard walked around the bushes to find him sitting cold and rigid. Flight was not an option. He could barley breath, let alone move. Fright seemed to be the only thing that he knew. He was ready. Ready for the guard to grab him up, steal back his package, and lock him away. But it never came. Puzzled, he looked up.

One of the guard scratched his head, and the other looked at him like he was some sort of exotic creature. Did they not know who he was? Surly all of the guard had been informed of a thief from the palace treasury?

"Who are you, old man?" The guard that was formerly scratching his head lent the thief his hand. "Are you from the city?" The thief was unable to speak. He was struck down with fear and then, as it seemed, luck.

He was able to choke out one word in reply. ""¦Yes." The thumping on the inside of his chest continued. "Do they really not recognize me?" He thought. Obviously they did not. Fortune on this day seemed abundant, and so the thief took the guard's hand and rose from the ground with thanks.

Together, along with the wagon man, the thief and the guard walked up to the city gates where he was escorted inside. On his way in he could hear the guard talking amongst themselves, "Must be a bit mad that one, to sleep outside the gate."

Our thief could still feel the package against him from the inside of his tunic, and calm washed over him. "What luck!" he thought, and looked down at his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks for what he saw were not the hands of a young thief, but the hands of an elderly man withered with age. Words rang clear in his mind, "Old man."