,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸-(_FINAL FANTASY_)-,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸

[Crystal Tears]

A long time ago, this world was beautiful.

The desert seemed to stretch for miles, but even so, the riders of the large, yellow birds called Chocobos pressed on. The armour on their bodies acting like ovens: roasting them alive. One man suddenly fell upon the soft sand, his armour unmoving; while his bright green eyes turned a dull, dead-grey color. Some stopped, holding a clenched, armoured fist to their chest while bowing their heads. Others just kept moving, not wanting to be the next to fall prey to the harsh sun.

The waters in the rivers were crystal clear, and fish were abundant.

The riders inched closer to their destination, crossing over a deep gash in the sand; a gash that used to run with life. Now, all it contained was a thick black substance which drained the life of all who crossed it. The bridge wobbled, threatening to collapse. One bird lost its balance, crying in with its rider as they tumbled into the dark liquid, their bodies rotting away before their comrades’ eyes before being swallowed by the darkness.

People said the planet died; the life force which flows through us all abandoned the earth, leaving all on its surface to die.

The leader of the riders held up her hand. Her long hair moved lightly in the wind and her Chocobo fell silent, lowering its head in fear of something before them.

The ground shook as it approached; a monster, with a long, snake-like head clad in bone-mail armour and bull horns that curved around its head. Its body was slender and moved like a serpent, with black feathered wings sprouting from the shoulders of sharp clawed feet.

“Attack!” She cried, pulling out her sword and pointing it forward. Her Chocobo suddenly moved, launching itself forward in a brave fashion for its rider. The sword slices into the creature’s skin, but does little.

Her men follow suit, charging bravely. Some get killed by melee attacks; others manage to survive, using their weapons to cut into the scaly skin of the serpent.

Replacing the life force; would be a demon. So powerful, that even when someone would defeat it, it would summon itself back; causing endless years of destruction.

All around her, men died. Their screams of agony piercing into her mind like a hot knife through butter. Leaping from her Chocobo, her body slammed to the ground. The captain watched, helpless, as her own bird is snapped up into the jaws of the creature and then swallowed whole.
Her legs suddenly began to work again. Pushing herself off the ground, she stood back, next to the few men left beside her, weapons at the ready.

There were some who, gifted with a connection with the soul of the earth, could call upon its help to defeat any creature.

Light, a brilliant light with a golden aura spawned from the Captain’s heart, moving like water, ribbons of turquoise energy crawled across the ground, forming what looked like veins. Wrapping themselves around the massive beast, the army watched as it dissipated, its own darkness consuming its physical body before fading away.

It is with their help that life will be brought back to the planet; it is their sacrifice that will bring to an end the chaotic reign of the master demon.

FINAL FANTASY

Grammar Freak Approved By:

Weasel Overlord
and
Fai D. Flowright

CAST

Crystal Tears as Suzuka; child of a Heroine
Weasel Overlord as Summoner Fynaer
Blademaster as Dergan the White Mage
Samchu as Oren; the Chocobo fearing Warrior
Mystic_Clown as Thief Zaszie
River as Cetra descendant Kyun
Shadow Djinn as Guardian Luneth Oberos

SPECIAL GUEST STAR

Emotional Faun Chiko-sai as Fjls Woodwarder, the Viera

Name: Suzuka
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Species: Cetra
Physical Appearance: Has long black hair that ends in vibrant red highlights, the hair itself is extremely long and perfectly straight. It’s usually tied up in a ponytail that manages to come down to her buttocks. She has a graceful, agile, and beautiful body while she stands at 5’8’’and she has moderately long fingers nails. Her skin is lightly tanned, and despite her roaming in the desert, it refuses to tan anymore.All around, she is quite attractive, and is some sorry that her figure attracts so much unwanted attention.
Clothing: Clinging tightly to her skin is a black, rather thick tank top that has a silver zipper always half way undone. On her forearms are black-leather arm warmers that are plated with reflective black armour squares lined with faint silver. The tank top gets cut short and exposes everything below her last rib. Her pants are black-leather like her arm warmers and are loose; having zippers run up the outside side of her legs but never are actually undone, also has straps on the back of her pants that form a ‘X’ (Bondage Straps woot). Tied around her hips is a black cape that comes down to her ankles. Her hair is tied up with a black ribbon, and around her eyes is black cloth.
Personality: Suzuka is rather polite in most cases, if she talks. She tends to stay silent and watch from afar, this isn’t because she anti-social, but because she doesn’t know what exactly to say. She mostly has a quiet but cheery disposition that makes her someone everyone wants to be around, just because she’ll listen, and won’t interrupt. Advice isn’t really her specialty, but some say she has a heart of gold that she hides because it’s been to many times. She isn’t one to take threats lightly though, and she’ll reveal a darker, crueller side to her that has made her efficient at her job as a Mercenary.
Weapon: Great Sword: It’s Obsidian black with a crimson hilt. It’s about five feet long and hangs on Suzuka’s back.
Secondary Weapon: N/A
Class: Black Mage
Magic:
Slot 1– Fire
Slot 2- Blizzard
Slot 3- Cure
Union: TBR
Aeon: N/A
History: Though her past is much of a secret, it is known that Suzuka’s mother was the famous Captain you vanquished the demon with it first appeared. Because of this though, Suzuka is reluctant to speak of her name, in fear of gathering attention.
Other: As a small silver trinket on a silver chain; the trinket itself as from one to twenty inscribed on the inner circle in roman numerals. She is an exceptional warrior, and will not be taken down easily.

SUZUKA

A carpet with elegant designs ran down the pathway, reds and purples tied in with silver to form a wonderful pattern that created the road of which you were to walk on. Next to the path was a hedge of flowers, beautiful, and the smell they expelled was something to die for. The fence behind the hedge was white and silver; it shimmered in the sunlight as the girl travelled up. As she stepped onto plate of gold stone, her vision blurred, and then a shrine was before her. Fences rose up all around in a circle as she stood on the stone. Water which clung to a blue design swayed in the light wind, and as she stepped onto the central platform, an orb, about the size of child’s fist floats to her eye level.

Life…

She had been here many times, and would be back many times after. This place was different from the world… Even as the carpet rotted away, and the walls turned dead grey and black, this place would always be her sanctuary: a world apart from that which had claimed so many and would claim many more to come. Unlike the others that had travelled to this place, she had not come for enlightenment or hope… She had come for that which could not be hers; something that would drive her over the edge before the day’s end.

Warmth…

She was kneeling, her knees aching from being pressed against the hard, stone ground for so long. Pyreflies, small comet like orbs made of light, swarmed around her. So many formed from the enchanted waters that she was near-blinded by the light they blended together to make.
The temple was glowing, the light which kept the darkness at bay was at its peak now, and Suzuka: the priestess of this forgotten place, was safe once more.

Though she wasn’t an official priestess, or a guardian… In fact she was a thing that did not belong in any temple.

Murderer…

The darkness that so long held onto her soul had unleashed itself; brought to the surface with feelings of hatred for the world, for those who sought to save it. Why help a world that’s doomed to be left behind by the guardian who was created to protect it? There was no point, and those who tried to help it only prolonged everyone elses suffering…

“Why are you here?”

Suzuka turned, the blindfold wrapped around her head shrouding her eyes from the world. Clutched in her hand was a sword, a long black ribbon dangling from its hilt as fresh blood dripped from the blade. The man was panicking, she could hear his breathing quicken, his heart rate became too much for his own body to bear.
Her hip cape moved ever so slightly in the breeze that passed through the old halls.

“To hide...” She answered; her voice so soft and meek that the man had to strain to hear it. “But when I came here, I found this place not to be abandoned, only forgotten.” She held up her blade as she approached the priest. “I wish to be forgotten too.”

His screams seemed to echo through this haunted place still. But the murderer didn’t mind. This place, this hallowed place was now empty. A shell, like the fiends who ran amok in the black sand desert that surrounded it. Quietly she exited the hidden chamber, watching the magicks she had placed on the hidden passage gleam. It was safe from everybody, and no matter their skill, no one could enter the prayer chamber.

“Forgotten…” She whispered, wandering down the halls, her footsteps sounding down the hollow ways. “Like a single white flower buried beneath thousands of red…”


Many would find her strange for wanting to be forgotten, but the bliss that was incorporated proved to be very nice, and very handy… Those who were attracted to the light never knew her, and this could not defend against her rogue like tactics. She dwelled in the darkness, using the shadows to shroud her being.

“Come little moths…” She mused, as she stood on the balcony of the second floor. She could already sense life in the crystal field, moving, trying to evade the creatures that threatened to attack… “Come to the flame.”

She disappeared then, going back into the darkness of the temple.

Though she began to wonder… Why would people want to save the world anyway?

- - -

If anyone is wondering, Emotional Faun Chiko-sai is a guest star because of her character's race. Oh, and for the reason you have to come, your curious, your wondering why the temple is glowing, or wondering when it got there. (Being it is forgotten...)

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Name: Fjls Woodwarder (Fee-you-lis, Fyulis)
Age: 30-ish. Probably around 90 in Hume years.
Gender: Male
Species: Viera *thank you CT*
Physical Appearance: Very scribbly and rough sketch; below is the textual version.
Has, oddly for a Viera (who are usually silver- or white-haired), red hair, shortish and raggedly cut. Fjls is 5'11" (without ears) and 6'8" (with ears). His ears are more rabbit-like (shorter, obvious taper) than the female Viera's, and covered in silvery cream fur. His skin is a golden-toned coffee colour, and he is, as occasion decrees, leanly muscled. Notable features of his anatomy include his extremely elongated fingers and feet, the fingernails and toes so curved they appear to be claws. Has a pair of completely normal eyes which are brownish-red in colour; they are nondescript enough that he often appears to be looking at something when he is in fact looking in the opposite direction. Strangely enough for a member of the Vieran race, his facial features and indeed general movements are coarse and devoid of grace.
Clothing: Moving from the head down! Fjls wears the visor part of a helmet he originally owned when he was a Woodwarder; following his self-induced exile, he modified it so that he could comfortably wear just the visor functioning as, collectively, sunshade, headband and forehead protection. Thus, his eyes are constantly in shadow; that's just how he likes it. On his left forearm there's an armguard; on the right bandages in place of the armguard. There are a few necklaces of Viera manufacture around his, um, neck. He does walk around barechested (I don't know how he *doesn't* catch a cold in wintry conditions, ask the Viera how they do it in their teeny-tiny almost-bikinis), but at least he wears pants. These pants are baggy, a drab blue in colour, and gathered below the knees. They are held up by an old leather belt, to which is also attached a (for lack of better word) protective. (look at the picture.. you'll know what I mean) On his feet he wears heels that are at least 3 inches high, not by choice but because Vieran feet were not meant to survive without the support of high heels.
Personality: Fjls is not a trusting creature by nature - he's a stranger in a strange world, and thinks that it's better to be suspicious of things that he doesn't know, just so he knows what to expect in a worst-case scenario. He's a snarky kind of character, but from the the looks of it sometimes he himself is not aware that he's being sarcastic and disbelieving; it's an automatic reaction. He is unashamedly racist (even against his own) and is easily provoked, though it really depends on the person. In the heat of battle, and in places where the Lifestream is concentrated, there's a chance he might go berserk, as all Viera do. He almost always feels sorry for it later. Does not like women (see History) and children, by extension dislikes the entire population of the world including himself. To say 'bitter' is an understatement. He's still fairly new to the world outside the wood, and it shows, quite tellingly, sometimes; though his past connections with the Spirit and the Viera’s wood allow him to sense things others wouldn’t usually know.
He believes in the Truth, in all its grisly glory. He won't bend the truth to suit his mind; he'll bend his mind to suit the truth. Thinks in straight lines.
Is able to laugh and smile, usually at himself, because he simply can't believe he's stupid enough to do what he's going to do in the next five seconds.
Weapon: A plain, chromed polearm that can be described as a sort of halberd, although instead of an axe-like cutting edge, it retains the leaf shape of the spearhead. The spearhead is a dark polished mythril, and larger than a regular spearhead; there are wicked grooves cut into the sides of the spearhead where razor-sharp obsidian shards have been set to allow the weapon to slash to maximum effect.
Secondary Weapon: A handheld repeating crossbow, not new, but kept in reasonably good condition by Fjls; it can be said that he dotes on his crossbow, as it's his favourite weapon. However, since the spear is more practical, he generally reserves his crossbow for times when a spear alone just won't do. Probably similar to a modified pistol crossbow.
Class: Warrior, although I think he's more of a 'dragoon'. Or a Knight from FF3.. HAHA can cast white magic, just low magic points -_-
Magic:
Slot 1 - Blindna
Slot 2 - Poisona
Union: N/A
Aeon: N/A
History: The Viera, race of lagomorphs, even more reclusive than the Ronso and on par on esoteric knowledge with the Guado, live, as the Guado live, in an ancient wood, roughly south of the Ronso stronghold Mt. Er'rai. They have civil diplomatic ties with the Ronso, who like them are privy to a bestial nature and worship of the Spirit, and they shun all other contact. They care for nothing as long as their wood and the Spirit are not in grave danger. Few that enter their wood, Tyrfing, come out unmazed, and even fewer hold true claims that they have actually seen a Viera.
With the Viera they say that the Spirit is in everything, in an ages-old rock, in the unfurling of leaves in springtime, in the ripple of water clear over river-beds. This is possibly a corruption of the concept of the Life Stream, the name of which was originally coined by the Guado and adopted by the Cetra, who have always lived in tune with it. The Viera are headed by an Elder, who has definitive say in any issue raised in the village. Woodwarders guard the wood from monsters and intruders; Salve-makers are in essence Viera doctors.
The Viera population is largely female, owing to a matriarchal hierarchy and the fact that natural selection tends to favour the females in their race; female Viera are all taller, swifter, more adept with magic, and closer to the Spirit than are the very few males, who rarely show themselves and are most likely kept for breeding purposes only. The sole redeeming quality a male Viera has over his female counterpart is brute strength. Male Viera are watched and guarded oppressively by the females, although Fjls became a Woodwarder because their Elder at the time had a rather odd sense of humour.
This decision of the Elder was not looked favourably upon; as a collective whole the Woodwarders made it their business to make Fjls' life miserable without seeming to, as only females can. As a result Fjls made his decision to leave Tyrfing Wood, the better to explore the outside world, hitherto unseen by the vast majority of Viera; he also gained a deep and abiding suspicion of all females, in addition to his equally deep and abiding suspicion of all races other than Viera. It should be noted that his hair has turned red not because he dyed it, but because he ate a Deadly Nightshade whose fruit had not yet grown to maturity. (It was eat or die, in that case - he was at that point traveling in the middle of nowhere, and his supplies had run out.)
The only person he treats with a modicum of true respect is his (ex) Elder, Mune. All other Viera treat him as outcast.
Also, his sense of the Spirit in things is slowly dulling, in keeping with the 'curse' that Viera who wander out of the wood are visited with.
Other: I have noticed how the viera have those apparently utterly unpronounceable names (Ktjn? KRJS?! WTF?!); as such, I present Fjls. ^^;; Also, Woodwarder is not so much a surname as an ex-job-description. Feel free to mock his stilettos. Mwoahahahaha.

Fjls Woodwarder, Starrer of Guests
1. Sandy Badlands
------------------------

Fjls scrabbled at the black ground. He wasn't going to die - not here - not now...

It wasn't because of the fiends. A few vultures circling despondently in the sky above should have, by all rights, been hovering a few feet above the prostrate viera, waiting for the second when the head drooped and the limbs stiffened and all was still, had they not seen the fate of the vultures who had. Some leagues back, there were left just bones, beaks and giant feathers. The vultures were very grateful that spears were not made to be thrown into the air, not like, say, javelins or arrows, because the owner usually wanted his precious hard-gotten spear back.

Fjls cursed the fact that vultures had precious little pickings on them, barely enough to satisfy the basest cravings of his stomach. And that their blood was bitter to the taste and not thirst-quenching at all. And then went back to cursing the land.

Presently he got around to cursing himself. How silly, how foolish, how callow! What ridiculous impulse had seized hold of his normally fairly sensible (or so he liked to think) mind, that he had ventured into a desert that practically screamed "Enter Me And You Will Die A Woefully Unpleasant Death"? All right, so his senses had been steadily deteriorating ever since he'd left Tyrfing. So what. There should have been sufficient left to warn him against this accursed pockmark of a black-sanded desert: this vast, dire expanse where GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD, WELCOME TO A CRUELLER HELL was written, in bold, fluorescent letters, all over each rock and dried-up shrub and pebble.

In fact no such warnings existed in the desert, but Fjls maintained that there were. Somewhere in his fevered brain, the verdant sighings of the Woodword were again active, and he was a few hundred times more perceptive in his desperation than he ever was when fully fed and certifiably sane.

A round russet head drilled itself out of the ebony sands into his vision, followed by a small body that looked as deceptively limp as a ragdoll's. Yellow eyes stared into Fjls' own with a keen vegetable intellect.

Fjls and the alraune blinked at each other for a few moments, both entertaining certain thought processes that mostly revolved around "Am I seeing things?" and "Yes, I am seeing things, this is clearly a mirage, that manner of creature could never survive in the desert".

Fjls stopped blinking first.

He lunged at the alraune, and caught the wildly struggling mandragora with a hand driven by sheer spirit of survival. With the other hand he staked the luckless fiend through the torso with his spear.

After glutting himself (he didn't care anymore if eating alraunes turned his hair bright orange, just as eating deadly nightshades had turned it an intense tomato-like red), Fjls began to dig madly at the hole from which the alraune had emerged. If plants could survive here, there had to be water somewhere. The mere thought was enough to spur him on. At last he came to a small trickle of clear water; he slaked his thirst and filled his water-skin, and stood up, feeling quite a New Viera.

Then he caught a glimpse of light reflected off the roof of something, and there was the temple. It called to him, to something deep in his soul that reverberated and answered, and made Fjls feel like himself, that other self back in the Wood of Tyrfing, not such a long time ago.

It was like home, and the Wood, only not.

Fjls smiled serenely, eyes closed, as he began to topple slowly forward out of exhaustion, and the carpeted walkway came up to meet his cheek, and his spear fell with a muted clang upon the fantastic arabesques of the path.

He was home...
---------------------
Guh.. sorry if anything is not as it's supposed to be.

[Mystic_clown]

Name: Zaszie
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Species: Hume
Physical Appearance: He stands at about 6'0'' in hight with a lean, yet well toned build and a dark tan. He has a number of faint, light brown tattoos over his upper arms and torso, perhaps to act as camoflauge. His face is hidden by his mask and has wild, shoulder leangth white hair.
Clothing: He wears a pale indigo sweat shirt with a dull green leather vest over its. On his forearms and arm warmers of a dull color and brown gloves on his hands. He wears a pair of pale brown shorts which reach just below his knees and are tucked into his metal shinguards. His feet are wrapped in badages but otherwise he's barefoot. His face is covered by a gas mask he never seems to take off.
Personality: This is one cocky dude. He's overconfident in his abilities and is quick with a wise crack and an insult. Despite acting like a jerk to everyone, he has a good sense of loyalty, as well as a keen eye for valuable items. Steal the valuable stuff and leave the worthless junk, less stuff you have to carry. Despite his cockiness, he does know when to fight and when to flee, flee being leading his opponents into a crafty trap. He takes pride in his work and hates being compared with average thieves. He sees theft as an art form, one that when perfected makes you capable of getting hold of everything.
Weapon: A Katar. The handles are earthy colours and the blades are a brilliant chrome, perfect for reflecting light and blinding people.
Secondary Weapon: N/A
Class: Thief
Magic:
Slot 1– Haste
Slot 2- Blind
Slot 3- N/A
Union: N/A
Aeon: N/A
History: Zaszie was born into a roving band of desert thieves. These guys used camoflauge, traps and gorilla tactics to accomplish their missions. While his birth did keep his mother from stealing for a while, it allowed Zaszie to adapt to the harsh conditions of the desert and wasteland. He joined the group on missions when he was at the right age (14), and since then his skills have been on the rise. He salvaged the gas mask he wears from a caravan they robbed and he began wearing it to hide his face from the authorities. Now however, he wears it at all times, causing rumours to arise from the newr members of the group. At the moment, while Zazie's not the leader of the group, he's a well respected member, especially among the newer members.
Other:

Zaszie
-----------------------------------------
Beneath his mask, Zaszie smirked in satisfaction. The broken caravan, the scattered bodies and the small group of thieves scrounging through the wreckage painted a clear enough picture.

With a small flick of his wrists, the blood covering the blades of his katar slid off onto the sand. The none stick coating on the blades made cleaning the things very easily.

"Well boys," Zaszie said confidently, "another job well done."

It was at this point that one of the theives bounded down from the nearby ledge and ran over to their leader.

"Um, sir?"

Zaszie eyed the young thief.

"Yes?"

"Um, one of the scouts posted something in the distance."

"Another Caravan?"

"We don't think so."

Zaszie didn't respond. Instead he leaped up onto the ledge, where the scout was positioned.

"What is it?" he questioned.

"Take a look," the scout replied, handing Zaszie the binoculars.

It looked like some sort to building. Possibly another ruin.

What was interesting about this ruin however wa htat it appeared to be glowing.

"What do you think it is sir?" the scout asked.

"I'm not sure," Zaszie responded, handing the scout the binoculars, "but it's worth checking out.

The mask clad thief looked down upon his little group.

"Listen up!" he shouted, getting everyone's attention, "One of the scouts has spotted something of interest to the North. Three of you will come with me to investigate. The rest of you will continue collecting, ok?"

The thieves nodded. Zaszie leaped down from the ledge, where he was immediately joined by three others.

"Alright then," Zaszie ordered, "Let's move!"

[Weasel Overlord]

Name: Fynaer | Pronunciation: [fy-nare] (stressed first syllable)
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Species: Guado
Physical Appearance: Fynaer is tall, as Guado are. He stands at around 6’5”, and his fingers and arms have the usual elongated appearance of the Guado. Fy’s features are unusually delicate; his nose is small, but in proportion, as are his ears and eyes. Fy’s eyes are very interesting, actually. They are oval and beautiful with sweeping black lashes which hide one startlingly green eye (the left) and one so dark it is almost black (the right). He can see perfectly from the black eye, but the green one is almost totally blind; all Fynaer can see out of it are shapes and slight blurs of colour.
Fynaer’s hair is as black as his right eye, and it sweeps down his back in long, tangling curls which he does not comb. His hair reaches to about halfway down his back, and he has a shortish fringe, cut straight across which still manages to be as straggly and curly as the rest of his hair.
His eyebrows are as dark as his hair; slender and well-shaped, with a sarcastic arch to them which matches Fynaer’s often biting nature perfectly, and in his left ear he wears a single silver hoop earring, wrapped with a slender wire off which a small green and white bead hangs.
All over Fy’s hands are thin scars in a complex network tracing across his fingers and palms. These are mostly covered by his shirt-cuffs, but a single one reaches up his left “ring” finger, right up the middle, all the way to his fingernail. This particular scar thickens as it passes over the knuckle, and then tapers off at the fingernail.
Fynaer’s complexion is pale; almost what you’d describe as an “English rose”, (lol) apart from the fact that he’s a Guado, and so has a green tinge to it. It’s a dark green, almost foresty in colour, and across his cheeks and forehead are sort-of-veins-things… They are almost scars, but really dark grey in colour, almost black in the right light, and they branch off into little, um…branches that reach up to his ears.
Clothing: Fynaer wears a black shirt, tight-fitting with long sleeves (they come down around his hands) and large, turned over cuffs. The shirt has a shining silvery-white trim, stitched around the edge where the hems are. (i.e.: the hems ^_~) The cuffs reach down to his knuckles, leaving only the…ends (for want of a better word) of his fingers showing. (the two end bones, basically) His shirt has a collar, as shirts often do, and it only has buttons up to the breastbone, leaving a nice v of pale, unmarred flesh showing.
Preferring simpler clothes, Fynaer wears a pair of linen pants, close-fitting to the waist but looser as they go down; the bottom of each leg manages to cover his feet, upon which he wears a pair of hardy leather boots, dyed a dark green. His pants are, once more, black, but this time they have embroidered green patterns all across the right leg. The stitching is green also.
Personality: Fy’s aloof, much of the time, safe in the knowledge that he is, in fact, da bomb. As well as being teh sex. He’s prideful, as most Guado are, and he has a tendency to keep himself to himself. Which is not to say that he doesn’t value the company of a select few. Which is to say, a very select few. Namely, those who can stand his aloofness for more than ten minutes at a time. Since he’s an Arcane spellcaster primarily, some people might find it odd that he’s the Summoner of a White Aeon, but Fynaer simply could not care less. He’s well practised in ignoring the negative opinions of others, and his bond with Naer makes up for everything.
Fynaer is calm and cool and collected, even in the heat of battle. He fights with a complete detachment, the only sign on any emotion is when he summons Naer, and for a brief moment, a look of pure joy and contentment can be seen flashing across his face before being replaced with his usual sarcastic twitch of the mouth.
He doesn’t often laugh, and certainly doesn’t ever giggle; but Fynaer appreciates a good joke as much as the next person, and if you see his mouth quirking at a corner then you know that you’ve amused him in some way. Which isn’t always a good thing, as Fy is vengeful to a fault. If someone’s wounded him in some way, whether only with words or with a weapon, he will endeavour to get them back; with a cutting remark, a raise of the eyebrow and a sardonic smile, or with a swift jab in the eye. He fast with his wand is Fynaer. Oh yes.
Weapon: Fynaer carries a simple wand as his weapon. It’s made of ebony, and is exactly twenty inches long, and half an inch in thickness. It has a carved handle inlaid with jade which is about an inch in thickness. (the handle, not the jade, hehe) When he’s not using magic, or calling Naer, Fy uses the wand to jab at enemies. It proves very handy for poking fiends in the eye. ^_^
THAT’S RIGHT, A SISSY WAND HAHA!
Class: Summoner
Magic: Dark, Blind
History: Dagnabbit *kicks history*Well fine.Fynaer was rejected by his mother for choosing the path of the Summoner. She had very elaborate plans for him to be an Assassin which involved Fynaer taking maaaany boring years learning the trade of Assassins and then…well…assassinating people. He got bored about halfway through his education, and buggered the hell right off out of there; taking with him a disdain for normal weapons (HENCE THE SISSY WAND, HAHAHAA) and his knowledge of Arcane magic. Once he’d started upon the path of the Summoner and gained his Aeon, all his bitterness about wasted years faded away with the infusion of Naer’s Light into his personality.
Even though his Aeon is Light, Fy stuck with his Arcane magic, leading to Naer being influenced by it slightly.
Other: VV FTW!! Ahem… I mean… *slaps VV in the faces of the RPG’ers then runs*
And so what if Fynaer is like Vetinari… -_- I happen to like Vetinari…

Aeon:
Name of Aeon: Naer | Pronunciation: [Nare]Element: White
Description: Naer resembles a pure white wolf in appearance. He is rangy and tall, standing at about one hundred and thirty centimetres, and he’s quite well-muscled, but it’s the sort of wiry muscle you can hardly see, tense beneath the surface. His teeth are gleaming white and viciously pointed, and Naer’s eyes are pitch black, just like his Summoner’s.
About his neck Naer sports a rather fetching grey mane, similar to a lions, in fact, only it doesn’t go down between his front paws. It’s a sort of stormy grey in colour, and streaked with dark, foresty green. The mane thing is kinda like the scruff on a dog, you know, where the fur’s thicker at the back of the neck, only it’s much longer hair. Around his neck (and ruff, lol) Naer wears a thick metal collar-type thingy. It’s about three inches across, and one inch thick metal; pure silver with hoops of metal pinched through it at regular intervals. Off each hoop hangs a tiny silver bell which tinkles musically, and a sea green bead.
Through his right ear, Naer has an earring almost identical to Fy’s. It’s a pure silver hoop, only bigger than the one Fy wears, and it has a green and white bead dangling from a wire, exactly like Fy’s does.
Spells: Cure, Blindna, Darka
Overdrive: Blinding Light – Naer combines its huge curative powers into one, curing blast of light that envelops the entire party, as well as the enemy. This light heals and takes away blind status for the party. However, the light is so bright that it causes Blind status on each enemy, as well as confusion. Well, wouldn’t you be confused if a really bright light suddenly flashed in your face?!


Fynaer
// -he likes the dark
-----
It was beginning to get chilly, and Fynaer was not impressed. It had taken him the best part of a month which could, in fact, have been put to a much better use, to climb, saunter and otherwise arrive at this lonely and bland section of the world.

And he was starting to get very sick of sand. Not only did it stick in his throat, choking him and making him thirsty and grumpy at the same time, but it also made him dirty, hot and flustered. And Fynaer did not like being flustered. Oh no.

His hair was abhorrently messed up, lank sections hanging in his face, dripping with sweat from the heat of the midday sun. No one had ever thought to mention that the sun got really really hot in the middle of the day in a desert. And if he was honest with himself, Fynaer hadn’t expected to find himself slap bang in the middle of some desert which seemed most determined to kill him; whether from heat exhaustion or from sand-clogged lungs; it didn’t seem to mind which.

But now the sun was waning. Maybe it was bored of tormenting Fynaer. Maybe it was just saving it’s energies for the next day, when it had some particularly nasty torture saved up just for him. Fynaer did not know, but he felt sure that tomorrow would be as unpleasant as today had been, if not worse.

But for now, he concentrated on being happy at the coming darkness, and it’s blessed cool breeze which blew through his hair, rumpling it softly and freeing a portion of the sand.

He turned his face to the wind, enjoying the scent of water that floated tantalisingly to his desperate nostrils. Summoning up the last vestiges of his energy, Fynaer followed the delicious smell to its source; a small stone well, shaded by a single, lonely and bedraggled tree.

The tree leaned over the well until its branch-tips almost brushed the water inside, but Fynaer did not care. It was as he straightened up; wiping his mouth, that he noticed the flash of light and felt the humming on the air that signified power, and in large quantities at that.

Musing on what it could mean, Fynaer was shocked to feel a tugging within himself. It wasn’t Naer; it didn’t have his feel, his scent. This was different, more insistent.

His thoughts touching on Naer, he smiled a wide, if predatory smile, one scarred finger resting on his long ebony wand. He tapped it once, pondering, before drawing it with a light in his eyes.

Flicking his wrist to the left, Fynaer closed his eyes, reaching out to the wolf who dwelled inside his very soul.

Naer

His eyes snapped open and for a brief second, they flashed pure white, vision restored for a flickering and glorious moment before they returned to their normal, marred appearance.

Come

Another flick, this time to the right, and Fynaer traced a complex sigil in the air which glowed and then dimmed before exploding in a shower of sparks, as the great white wolf sprang into existence.

He padded over to Fynaer’s side with a shake of his bell-hung neck and a wolfish smirk playing across his muzzle.

Fy’s hand dropped automatically to ruffle the head-fur of the wolf who stood at such a great height.

“Naer. That light, this feeling I have…They are connected, aren’t they? Let us go to this place. I feel that answers will lie there, untouched and awaiting our presence…”

The Aeon bared his teeth once in acquiescence before padding off, past the single tree and in the direction of the flash of light. Fynaer could make out a darkened silhouette on the horizon which increased in size as he followed Naer, before finally coming into focus.

“It’s a temple?” A brief look of confusion flashed across his face as he took in the beauty of the building. As his gaze flicked from the height of the building, to the grand statues and finally to the fancy paths, he started to see a figure in what looked to be a compromising position with the floor.

Naer snuffled over, bending his head to investigate the strange, yellowed being in under his nose. He smelled funny, and Naer snorted in disgust before shooting a reproachful glare at Fynaer.

“It’s not my fault that he smells horrible, Naer.” He strode over and bent down at the side of the prone body.

A Viera, he noted, taking in the heels, the height and, of course, the ears.

Pulling out his wand, he reached out and poked the Viera sharply in the ribs, smiling at the groan he inflicted.

“She’s not dead then.” He proclaimed, giving one more prod for good measure. “Hoi, can you stand, miss?” He caught a muffled reply, and bent his head closer to hear the words.

“M’not a miss.” Fynaer blinked.

[Samchu]

Name: Oren
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Species: Hume
Physical Appearance: Oren stands at 5'9" in height. His build is vaguely defined - he has muscles but is not considered muscular - and therefore his weightlifting abilities are limited. However, having a slightly smaller physique allows him to be faster than most others his size and this is what he uses to his advantage during battles. He has very short brown hair. One eye is blue-green and because of an accident when he was young the other is a dark, clouded red with no pupil.
Clothing: He wears a baggy open-collared shirt that reveals some of his chest, baggy black pants and a pair of brown light-weight boots. He also wears a silver chain around his neck but no pendant - no one knows why exactly.
Personality: Oren is a very complex person. On the outside he always appears very calm and composed but he often has a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions raging inside of him. He is very loyal but only to people who prove to him that they can be trusted. When it comes to Oren you get one chance to earn that trust, from then on you’re going to have to pull something big to earn his respect. He’ll be friendly with anyone who wants him to but tends to reveal very little about himself. His training with weaponry has developed a dark, emotionless persona and it is a part of him that keeps so many of his emotions locked away. They’re not unreachable though…
Weapon: A very light-weight blade with a curved, crimson-red blade. The hilt is gold-coloured and surrounded by black coils. It is only 3 feet in length but there is no questioning the sharpness of its edges.
Secondary Weapon: Long bow. He carries it with a quiver of arrows on his back. It is made of light but durable wood and is curved at the ends.
Class: Warrior
Magic: None
History: Oren grew up on his family’s Chocobo Ranch and learnt all he needed to know during his time there. When he was 8 years old a fire broke out in the ranch, panicking the chocobos. He ran with his father to help out but was trampled in the face for his troubles. The attack destroyed blood vessels in his eye (thus then unusual appearance) but the rest of the damage healed naturally. When he left home he found a job in another ranch – as he knew nothing else – and has been working there ever since. Despite this, he has a hidden fear of chocobos – a result of the attack. He doesn’t know how to ride one nor does he own one of his own. His free time is spent instead on perfecting his skills with sword and bow, to protect the ranch from fiend attacks.
Other: none

Oren
~~~~

It was one of those days; when everything appears calm and peaceful but underneath it all you sense that something is going to happen. Something that's going to change and the things you know or open up the things you don't. That's how it felt to me anyway. There hadn't been any fiend attacks for almost a month now - which was a relief as it meant we'd actually been able to rope together a bit of business over the last couple of weeks. That's the thing with chocobos; fiends seem to have a liking for them.

Most of our time had been spent dealing with the young chick Chobo. He'd been born in the stables just a few nights ago and we were in charge of making sure he survived through the early stages - and we were being paid handsomely for it. He was a strong breed; mostly likely bred for racing or possibly to sell as a military chocobo. We had a few of those in now and again, fixer-upper jobs mostly, but not recently. I prefered it that way. Military chobos tended to be...fiesty. And I did not do well near 'fiesty' chocobos.

I was on my lunch break at the time, relaxing in a straw bundle and nibbling on a few sandwiches I'd made at home. I didn't hear the first cry - it was so distant that I couldn't hear it over the chocobos' cries - but the second one tore through me like a blade of ice. Fiends were coming!

Swinging down from my resting place, I grabbed my sword and made my way out of the stables. Inside the birds were beginning to panic and I fought back the mmeories boiling inside my head. I wasn't going to be anywhere near that panic; I needed to focus on the threat. Up on the hill I could see dark shadows tearing across the grass as the herd stampeded towards us. I buried my feet in the ground, readying myself for the oncoming attack. Some fell before me, driven into the earth by the arrows potruding from their backs. I was grateful for that. Even I couldn't handle them all on my own. I just wished they'd die a bit easier. Maybe then I'd actually be able to take care of them without exerting myself too much.

As the first one approached I swung my blade, catching it in the jaw and sprawling it back, black ooze dribbling from its mouth. Another jumped over it and I ducked, pulling my blade over my shoulder to slash through the monster's unprotected under belly. It crashed into the dirt with a whimper, throwing up clouds dust and blood. The first one recovered and leapt onto my back, biting for my neck. I parried an attacking fiend with my sword then grabbed the grappling monster with my free hand and tugged him over my shoulder before running him through with my sword.
Yet another fiend pounced at me before I was ready and I jumped back into a roll, leaving my sword still stuck in the body of its last victim. I crouched low, resting my knuckle on the ground as I stared down my enemy. It growled, pacing slightly. My gaze never left its own and when at last it lundged I was more than ready to leap past it. Rolling with all the grace I possessed I returned to my feet and ran towards my sword. Pulling it upright I turned just in time to see the fiend charging towards me. I dropped to my back, lifting my blade upright so that the fiend fell on it. My timing was a little off and the b*stard scratched my arm but I took care of him.

Sighing, I flipped the fiend off of me and sat up. As I turned round I could feel my heart leap into my throat. Just mere inches from my face were a fiend's teeth, each razor sharp and dripping with saliva. The stench of rotting flesh in it's breath was undeniable. Looking past the quivering jaws I was relieved to find the creature impaled on the rustic-looking blade of my friend Daevon. I shot him a relief-filled grin and he pulled me to my feet.

"Yer gettin' slack Oren."

"Maybe they're just getting better."

He looked me over to make sure I was ok. He was one of my bosses at the ranch and almost like a big brother to me - in some ways. "Well yer look ok. Arm's bleeding a bit tho."

"It'll be fine."

He scratched the layers of built-up stubble on his chin. "The others got tha ranch sorted. Yer better go get some air, battles do things ter a man's head."

I nodded and made my way out of the village - stopping past at the healer's hut to pick up some banadges for my bleeding arm. I walked aimlessly for what seemed like hours, my mind distant but focusing on nothing in particular. I didn't realise how far I had gone until I felt a wall of heat slam into my face. Looking up I was awed to see a sea of shimmering ebony stretching out before me. Dots of flickering silver sat embedded in its depths and when I bent down to pick them out of the dark sand I found them to be as hard as rocks.

"Crystals...In a desert..." I tucked a few of the smaller ones into my pockets for safe keeping. I wished more than anything to be able to carry the larger ones home with me but I had no idea how far I was from home and some of those crystals...you couldn't describe it in words. Fifty men couldn't lift some of those things.

I ventured a little further, filling my pockets with as many crystals as I dared. In the distance I saw something shimmering. At first I thought it was just another giant crystal but as I drew closer I found its shape to be different. It looked for a like a building, worn and abandoned but radiating with mystical essence. I found myself drawn towards its crumbling walls and empty hallways. As I entered the remains I quickly discovered it had once been a temple of some kind - though what it was doing in a desert such as this I had no idea. I realised then, how dark it was becoming. Pretty soon night would fall and I'd heard how bad a desert night could be. Who knew how bad a night in a desert such as this would be? I weighed up my options. At the very least I could use the temple as cover; there had to a room somewhere that I spend the night safely.

I nodded to myself. That was that. I'd explore the temple, find somewhere to sleep and spend the night here in this strange desert. I slid my hand into my pocket, fingering the crystals that I'd hidden there. One night in a creepy temple and I get all this as a reward? I could handle it. Yeah, of course I could.

[Pichu Luver]

Name: Kyun (Keye-yun)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Species: Hume
Physical Appearance: He stands right on six feet, but he is usually walking with a hunch, so when he stands up straight people are surprised. He has a medium build and very tanned. He is well toned for all the travelling he does and the years he spent with the army. He's not burly but you can definitely tell he's spent the greater portion of his life fighting. His face is round and none of the features really stand out except for his ears. Not that they are over large, but actually rather small compared to the rest of his face.
His left eye is a saddle brown but the right is turquoise with flecks of light blue. On his right eyelid is a swirling tattoo that is turquoise and light blue. It extends onto his face just a bit (right by his eye) as a small curl. His hair and eyebrows are a dirty blond colour but the top of his hair is very light. His hair is just long enough to put behind his ears, but it constantly gets free and falls into his face.
On his back is another tattoo, this one looks like a pyrefly (a tennis ball shape with a long tail) but its tail is really long. The ball is high on his right shoulder and it the tail curves down and over to the left, a sharp turn to the right and down. It finishes with a small curl to the left and takes up his entire back. It is not solid but made up of broken lines, small tendrils snake off it and flecks also follow the shape of it. It is also turquoise and blue like his eyelid.
Clothing: Typically in a navy blue t-shirt, black vest and dark grey cargo pants. The t-shirt is just a little tight and has the saying, "I missed my train ride" stitch on in white. The vest has many pockets, and silver trappings. The pants are just a little long causing the back of the hems to be ripped off because he has stepped on them for a long time. He also has a dark brown leather trench coat, with a hood. It is very beat up and looks like it has seen him through thick and thin. It is not patched or ripped but has many, many scratches in the leather (assumedly from many close calls).
His boots are a dark brown and he always, always has a pair of dark brown sunglasses on. Finally he has a necklace made of a piece of ripped leather with the tip of a Chocobo claw on it. All his weapons are kept on his back.
Personality: One pissed off dude. He has one huge chunk missing out of his shoulder and a giant grudge took its place. He keeps everyone he can at arms length and if they try to come closer he roughly shoves them back. Amazingly he is not rude, but politely tells them to bug off. Kind of like, "No I don't want to have a drink. Thank you, goodbye." He has seen a lot so is not usually fazed by what happens around him. Just lets it slide past, and if he can help it, isn't one to get involved.
Inside his rough prickly exterior is a nice man. He can be seen terrifying kids cause he'll hand over food to children that don't have any. His appearance usually makes all but the bravest run away though. He'll listen for hours to people when it suits him, and can usually leave them feeling better, no matter the circumstances they find themselves in. It's a rare occurrence when he lets people natter on though.
Around kids it's like a different person comes to inhabit him. He smiles, laughs and will hug and comfort any kid until they stop crying. It's often quite a shock to the people who thought they knew him. In certain towns, he is well known to the children. He is their solver of problems and protector for however long he is there. Once they trust him, he is often followed by at least a couple for the duration of his stay. For any adult, its the best time to get answers out of him, as he is usually in a much more amiable mood.
He may be a rough grumbly sort of person, but he isn't one to say, 'we can't do this'. He doesn't care the odds; he'll keep trying to do whatever he's set his mind on getting done.
He is often lost in thought, and may not get back into a conversation for a bit for thinking on something. He is often alone because he pushes people away but if you can catch him when he doesn't realize your watching he looks very, very sad.
Weapon: Two long knives. The steel has a light blue tinge and there is a design engraved into it. The right one is of a pyre-fly, the circular part is near the hilt and the tail waves and curls to the tip. The left one has what looks to be a ripple of water, a drop just hitting it. The indented bits are turquoise.
Secondary Weapon: A sniper rifle, that he has modified to hold many, many bullets. The gun is a dark blue with little flecks of white.
Class: Warrior
Magic:
Slot 1– Cure
Slot 2- Water
History: Kyun remembers when the last of the life force left, his brother was in a battle that day and died. His Chocobo was shot out from under him and the soldiers said he had held on for a long time before finally passing on. His mother wouldn't tell him then, but he was alive for so long because the Chocobo was basically holding him together. He has been shot as well but the way they fell, the Chocobo landed on him and held him together. There couldn't get someone with Cure because they didn't know he was still alive until much too late to do anything.
He was told when he was 15 and the few months later he ran away from home and joined the army. He swore he would avenge his brother. He was too young, but managed to smuggle himself in. He was there until he was 23; fighting everything he was told to, never questioning his orders. Then he left and stared traveling around, making himself well known to the kids. Something happened to him in the army just before he left that caused the chip and grudge, but he never talks about it. He also seems to have a deep loathing for Chocobo's; he says it is because of what happened to his brother.
Oh his great grandmother was Cetra, which gave him his eye.
Other: His voice is quite deep and rough.


Warning!: Long post ahead!

Kyun


'Would it fraking kill them to fix the Shiva-damned elevator? It's not like they have anything better to do with their Animiac lives.' Kyun thought, pissed off, as usual.

It wasn't that he was unfit, far from it. Its just that the tower so friggin tall, and they did have a mechanical elevator, but no one bothered to fix it.

He continued up the, barely lit, rickety switchback stairs, clutching to the railing every time it lurched.

'Frak that, if they want to keep their watch-party in any semblance of one piece, they should get on these stairs. Death by stairs-gone-bad is just . . . stupid.'

Kyun's frown deepened as he thought that. He was quite familiar with stupid ways to die. His brother left on a battlefield to die a slow, agonizing death. Oh they had assured him that he had felt almost no pain, but still . . . hoping for help to come for hours, and no one coming until it was far to late . . .

Kyun stopped and slammed his fist against the wall. He took many ragged breaths before he finally got control over his anger again. He looked up into the shadowed ceiling of the tower and said, "Frak you Omega, FRAK YOU."

"Kyun? That you?"

Kyun turned his gaze from the ceiling and saw Rezak peering into the stairwell, confused and a little worried.

"Yes Rezak. Sorry, just-" Kyun sighed, "Bad day."

Rezak's expression cleared and he nodded, his long brown hair falling into his face. Kyun kept trying to convince him to cut it, as it was far too girly. Men just shouldn't have hair reaching down to their shoulders. He always laughed and shrugged, having the same response all the time, "My head, my hair. Besides, I think it keeps me looking . . . young." At which point Rezak would grin and Kyun would glare.

Rezak moved out of the way as he came up through the doorway, and into the lobby. There were windows all around the circular room, most shattered, giving a view for leagues in every direction. Except to the west, where the mountains cut up into the sky, a small canyon cutting through where two mountains banked sharply down. Their shadows were starting to creep towards the town, the sun almost behind their peaks.

"You're relieved. Shandra was looking for you by the way, about Yunik."

Fear briefly crossed his face but Kyun shook his head, "No it's not the Talyo. Same as I told you, once every five days keeps it down."

He smiled and said, "Thanks Kyun, I--"

"Rezak . . . don't. Now go, Shandra's never been the patient kind."

Rezak just smiled and shook his head. "You're a grumpy old fart you know that?"

Kyun narrowed his eyes and snorted, looking away.

Rezak's smile grew but he left without another comment. When he was out of sight Kyun sighed and looked down the stairway after him.

'Just why? I shouldn't even . . .' Kyun shook his head and mentally slapped himself, 'Don't go down that road Kyun. It is what it is, move on.'

He nodded almost to reassure himself; though his expression showed he didn't believe a word of it. He shut the door flap and started to pace around the tower, looking out and watching for trouble.

About all that happened was some fiends at the Chocobo farm on the edge of town halfway through his shift. Kyun shoot a few with his gun, but it was mostly taken care of by the farmers there. Kyun's shift was almost over, the mountains shadow well over the town, when a bright flash lit up the canon. He blinked a few times, not quite believing what he was seeing, and peered into the crack. A dull glow pervaded for a few seconds before winking out.

Kyun frowned, "what the frak was that?" Just after he asked that question he felt something like a tug, urging him to go find out.

Kyun was starting down the tower before he fully realized what he was doing and he clutched the railing, forcing himself to stop.

"Think Kyun. Only one thing calls like that." he closed his eyes and fully questioned the tugging sensation this time, not letting himself just go tearing off towards something that could very well kill him.

Suddenly he swayed on the stairwell and his eyes flashed open.

"Hope?" he murmured. He looked down confusedly for a second before clenching his free hand. "Fine . . . you have me."

He ran down the remaining stairs, and something him seemed to burst with happiness. He hadn't felt hope in a long, long time. 'And, anything is worth feeling that again.'

He had just exited the tower when Rezak and Shandra came running up to him.

"Did you-"

"Are you-"

"Yes and yes. I have too. No, don't ask me why." he said cutting them off before they could ask.

"Just- be careful. We-"

"Rezak." Kyun said forcefully, making sure he listened him, "You do not need me. I won't be here forever. If that's the price, then I will pay it."

They both looked at him with startled expressions, and then sadness. "I hope it doesn't come to that Kyun." Shandra said, tugging absentmindedly on her black hair, her blue eyes welling up, "Perhaps we have gotten a little to used to you coming around. It's just-"

Kyun walked over to them and put a hand on each of their shoulders, "I know. It's all right, but you know I don't understand it myself. One day I could just, " he waved a hand and looked away for a second.

"Say goodbye to the kids for me." he said, turning back to them and stepping back. "You never know, I might pass through again on my way to, wherever."

They nodded and he turned, jogging out of town, waving over his shoulder.

He was at the canyon opening in about ten minutes, huffing a little. He didn't stop jogging as he entered it, dodging rocks and boulders. A couple times he almost fell, as it was quite dark in the narrow crack in the mountain.

As he went he stared to feel odd, and it got worse the farther along he went. Finally he had to stop running, shaking his arms and legs. They felt like they were under a massive pins and needles attack.

He stopped, and put a hand on a rock getting his breath back. When he felt well enough to start walking again, he warily made his way to the opening ahead of him.

When he got there he fell to his knees. His entire body felt like a foot that had fallen asleep and was waking up, the needles jabbing at him mercilessly. It passed after a little bit, the minor pins taking their place.

He glared at the field; it was black sand for a good few mile, great dull grey and blue crystals dotting its surface. A river on the far side flowly sluggishly, reflecting what was left of the sun, as had almost set, stars starting to appaear. As he was contemplating why his body felt so strange a great crack was heard to his right. He looked up and a three-story crystal had broken free of the edge of the mountain and was crashing down towards him.

"Shit!" He cried and dived down the hill and into the sand, scrambling for footing and ended up running away on all fours, he couldn't get up fast enough.

It crashed into the hill and rolled down it towards him. Kyun had finally managed to get on his feet and tore helter-skelter into the field.

The crystal crashed into the sand, sending up a cloud of it, as it slowly stopped rolling. When it stopped, Kyun turned back to it and glowered at it. It was glowing a very dull blue and almost seemed to be singing to him, enticing him to come closer.

"Frak off you stupid thing. Not today. Not EVER." Then he turned and started through the field.

The crystals ranged in size from no bigger then his thumb, to three stories. Most seemed to be about two stories though, and they all seemed to be ill. They glowed dully, and to Kyun they seemed to call out, but not like the first one had. He ignored them all, staying as far away from them as he could.

It was quite cold now that the sun had gone and Kyun tugged at his coat, feeling a little chilly. The felling of pins and needle got worse as he went on, but not to bad as when he first entered. Off in the distance he could see a temple. It felt as though he should go there, so he started off swiftly in that direction.

About halfway he heard a snarl to his right and he whipped out his knives and fell into his battle stance. It was a great ugly brute; it looked like it had been a black dog at one point. But now it was insanely over muscled and its fur was missing in great clumps.

As he got ready to attack, two more came out of the shadows and Kyun gave a feral grin.

"A challenge eh? Well, bring it on."

They launched at him and he dove to the ground, the three of them soaring over him. He stabbed one in the gut and it tumbled to landing, howling in pain and outrage.

Kyun scrambled to his feet just in time. The first dog ran at him, snapping at him as soon as it got within striking distance. Kyun punched it and left a long gash down its side, before turning and parrying away the other dog as it reared and tried to bash him with its great paws.

The gut-cut one leapt at him again, and he let it fall on him, shoving his knives up through its neck and twisting.

I gurgled and thrashed, but Kyun heaved it off before it could too much harm. It did mange to get one long claw mark down his arm as he tossed it off him, grunting.

The other tackled him from behind and he fell to the ground with an, 'oof!' The dog scrabbled at his coat, confused for a moment, but that was all Kyun needed. He reached behind him and stabbed both knives at its head. It screeched, leaping off him (and shoving him face first into the sand), crashing into the sand and pawing at its eyes.

Kyun rolled onto his back and heaved himself to his feet. The side-gashed one ran at him, but he ran straight back at it and plunged his knives straight town its throat as it opened its mouth to bite him. It was dead instantly, Kyun wrenching his knives free of its skull.

The blinded one was whimpering and he killed with a quick heat thrust to its heart.

He sighed and wiped the sweat out of his eyes and all three disappeared with a puff of smoke, pryflies going everywhere. The blood on his shirt seemed to dissolve as they went up. He was cut on his arms fron the teeth of the second one, but thankfully fiend-blood and gut free.

"Stupid things." he muttered, giving his blade a quick wipe and continuing towards the temple on the hill.

He met with a few more challenges, but nothing to major. Except for a floating red and black Bomb. He had stumbled backward, avoiding a tackle, and he had kicked up one of the tiny crystals at it by accident.

The resulting blue explosion had sent him flying backwards and into a great drift of sand. Kyun's foot felt numb but he was more concerned about the exploding crystal then he was about his foot.

"Huh." was all he could get out, stunned. Still, he grabbed the few small ones as he seen them, putting them in his pack carefully. They made his hand numb for however long he held them, but he considered it well worth it.

Finally he made it to the temple, at little worse for wear. He walked up the long entranceway, admiring the craftsmanship of its walls and arches. As he stepped up to the actual building, could hear the low tones of voices inside the temple. He did a quick Cure on himself before shoving open the doors.

Yesh I know its long, but I warned you!

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

...L-long ebony wand.. *mind chokes, frizzles, then curls up and dies due to over-accumulation of filth*
I do not know why I have mixed up the dialogue and given Fy/Vetinari Fjls/Vimes's half of it. I hope the characterization still works, nonetheless. *hides*

Fjls Woodwarder
6. The Female Eunuch Redux (Reverse)
-----------------------------

“M’not a miss.”

Fjls' head shot upwards, followed by an irate fist that grabbed hold of the front of the unknown person's shirt. The white wolf lunged forward, snarling ferociously, but the viera did not seem to notice. His usual mental functions had been overtaken by something deeply rooted in his being - a lovingly cultivated indignation that pushed itself into control whenever the subject of female viera was brought up in his presence.

"Is there something wrong with all you sexist bastards?! Not to be a male chauvinist pig or anything, but I'll have you know that not all viera are female! Where d'you think the young 'uns come from, eh?! The Wood doesn't breed! Yes of course there's very few of us and they lock us up together with the childers and I'm supposed to be lucky because I got made a Woodwarder! By the looks of you I can see you're a Guado! Well now, my fine, dark Guado, I should think you weren't the type to be blind, or feminist, but clearly I am mistaken-"

The adrenaline wore off.

Fjls realised, belatedly, that there was an overly large, abundantly muscled albino wolf breathing distractingly warm puffs of air down the back of his neck. The poker face of the Guado in front of him showed merely an expression of the most polite interest in the delicately arched eyebrows and turned up corners of the mouth. The bugger had a dead eye - it looked alive, but Fjls knew it was dead, in the way it didn't seem to scream smugness at him the way the other did.

He was wrong about the polite interest. It was probably extreme amusement disguised as polite interest. This Guado struck him as the type. He didn't know why, but he just did.

He let go of the other man's shirt, sagging, following which the Guado proceeded to dust the front of the garment off in what Fjls thought the most infuriatingly meticulous way possible. The large white wolf stopped making the hairs on his neck stand up by sheer proximity to its fangs, and padded back to the Guado's side. The Guado was dressed in all the varying shades of black, though by way of exception the fellow's boots were a dark, clotted green reminiscent of the colour and texture of dragonskin. There was also a wand. It was long and black and something Fjls recognized as having poked his aching ribs not too long ago.

"You're a summoner," said Fjls, stating the obvious.

"Yes," replied the summoner, straightening his sleeves as if they were ever so much more interesting than a male viera who happened to be a chauvinist.

"And that's your summon." The wolf grinned, showcasing a set of teeth terrible enough to rival a shark's.

"Yes."

"Your pilgrimage has taken you so far afield, to this godsforsaken hellhole of a temple in the middle of a desert?"

"Yes?" Punctuation. It made all the difference.

"What are you doing here? - Look, don't you give me another one of your pissing 'yes'es for an answer!" Fjls descended, once again, into manic anger. It was the lack of food, he knew it was. Else he wouldn't be committing suicide in so crass a manner.

A smirk! The bloody Guado was smirking! "Well, you of all people should know why I am here. It is for the same reason as yourself, is it not? Does your Woodword not inform you of such things?"

Fjls gritted his teeth and mumbled something approaching "-can't hear her 'nymore once you leave."

The Guado's reply was to merely arch his eyebrows, once again. Those damned eyebrows were the most expressive feature of that most impassive face.

There was a long silence. Surprisingly, Fjls was not the one to break it.

"I am called Fynaer," said the Guado simply, striding towards the silver fence in the distance. "My Aeon" - the word deliberately stressed, it seemed to Fjls, to point out the viera's earlier lapse in terminology - "is Naer. It would be appreciated if you stay out of our way."

"I'm Fjls-" the viera began, then began running after the Guado and the wolf, who were already far ahead. "- don't run away when I'm talking to you, you bastard!"

Behind him, footsteps echoed as another warrior entered the temple, drawn by the sound of voices.

[Weasel Overlord]

Taggishness! Cue Kyun joining in at irritating Fy! Huzzahs!
(WAND! HAHA!) ...sorry.

Fynaer
// - he’s got a wand
-----
Not only did the Viera appear to be male; he was also extremely rude! Fynaer was slightly taken aback by the way he’d grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward and snarled in his face with such fervour. It had unsettled him, marginally, even if he was highly amused at the thought of a male Viera.

He stifled a chuckle as he stalked off into the temple, Naer padding at his side, his eyes glowing with humour at the whole situation. He was smug in the knowledge that he’d scared the crap out of the Viera-that-was-not-female, and now he was looking forward to either a nice battle or a good sleep. But preferably the battle. He did so like tearing fiends to shreds… feeling their hot blood spurting into his waiting and hungry mouth… oh, yes indeed.

“Naer, give up with those thoughts. Most unseemly. Look! You’re salivating. Tch.” Fynaer shook his head with fastidious disgust. “Just how do you think you’re making me look, eh?” He tut-tutted his way under the great archway, vaguely aware of the Viera-man-who-was-not-female skidding to a halt behind him as he blocked the entrance most effectively.

A cough.

Fynaer turned to regard the Viera-man with a lofty glare. “What?”

“You’re stood in the doorway. And as I was saying before you so rudely ran away from me. My name is Fjls…” He looked a little taken aback as Fynaer yawned, widely and obviously, taking no pains to cover his mouth.

“That’s nice.” Fy waved a hand at Fjls as if to dismiss him, before wandering further into the temple leaving the bewildered and infuriated Viera gaping at his turned back.

“Oy!” He shouted. “Oy! Fynaer!” Fy shook his head in annoyance before turning sharply back to the Viera-who-was-not-a-female.

“What?” His eyebrow arched dangerously as he glanced at the annoyance stood in front of him.

“Are you deaf?! I was talking to you…”

“I know you were, dear Fjls, but I have no desire to exchange words with you on this day, nor any other day, for that matter. Is your hearing so impaired that you did not hear me telling you to stay out of our way? Or maybe your brain is too addled to understand the meaning of my words? So, pray, allow me to enlighten you further. Bugger. Off.” He whirled on the spot with a smug smile pulling at his lips before stalking off into the temple and as far away from Fjls as possible.

Naer turned his head and stared balefully at the fuming Viera-male, baring his most impressive teeth and running a red, red tongue over them as if contemplating how good male-Viera flesh would taste, and how pleasantly it would rend and tear under his razor teeth.

Fjls shuddered slightly, as the wolf gave him a look of pure hatred mingled with smug superiority that almost perfectly mirrored that of his Summoner, and then turned with a flick of his tail to bound with an air of playfulness after Fynaer, whose hand dropped down to rest in the heavy white fur of Naer’s head.

Fy smiled down at his Aeon, fondling the fur underneath his fingers. “Maybe it’s time for you to depart, dear heart. Wouldn’t do for you to keep on scaring everyone, would it?” Fynaer’s approval of Naer’s scare tactics showed in the little laugh in his voice. He did enjoy it when his Aeon terrorised people; and the irony of the whole matter delighted him even more, for no-one would ever guess that the huge, snarling white wolf was of the Light element.

Pulling out the length of ebony from it’s home down the waistband of his pants, Fynaer closed his eyes and paused in his stride, thrusting the wand forward, he jabbed it into the air and pulled back sharply with an upwards flick, performing the banishing charm perfectly. He sighed as Naer burst into a stream of pure white light which gathered into a single, concentrated beam of light and flowed into his chest. He winced, just once, and then composed himself, poking the wand back down his waistband before squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat.

Dismissing Naer always left him with a slight feeling of emptiness; almost incompleteness that he disliked intently. It reminded him far too much of that loneliness which had plagued him during his assassin training.

But less dwelling on that subject. He took a deep breath, and turned as one of the doors opposite was thrust open, shock obviously registering on his face as yet another man walked into the temple.

So much for temples being quiet, holy places only frequented by Summoners and religious freaks. This one was a veritable social hangout. Oh the joys of company.

[Shadow Djinn]

Luneth Oberos - Guardian
-

The cyan aura that could be made out from a distance continued to grow closer.

Luneth was slightly unnerved by the light. It bothered him -- while he tried to ignore it, he could still feel its presence, no matter how odd that sounded. He could block out all his senses, but it was still there.

Though Dergan thought it'd be best to avoid the glimmering force, Luneth attempted numerous encouragements, and eventually they set off on the journey.

Which led them to the current situation.

"Hey, Dergan," the bodyguard called, his back pressing against his charge's. "Remember how I told you that we'd have a safe trip?"

Though there was no reply, Luneth could feel the fear radiating from the White Mage.

"Yea, I kind of lied." He finished sheepishly. His eyes fell upon the two, snarling Antlions before them, their mandibles clicking against each other with powerful malice, eyeing their every move with intentions that would not bode well for the party.

The bodyguard tightened his grip on Raigetsu, frowning at the two arachnids -- one behind him, staring down Dergan, and the other circling Luneth without signs of fatigue.

"Anyway," the warrior sighed, raising his sword. "Cover me."

The air blurred, and Luneth leapt forward with a howl, sweeping his sword downward as the Antlion lunged.

The blade bit into the spider's forehead, and it spasmed, tumbling to the ground, but managing to get to its feet once more. Its companion had lost interest in Dergan, and now charged for Luneth as well.

"So," the warrior muttered, backing up slightly. "Some help?"

-

Crappy, I know. I was gonna wait for Blademaster to post first, but I figured I'd just take advantage of the small reprieve I had.

[Pichu Luver]

Kyun

Kyun took only a few steps into the temple and stopped, staring.

'Shit. A Guado. What the hell is he doing here? A stab of fear went through him before he shoved it resolutely away. Turning his attention to the other person in the temple instead. 'For that matter, what the frak is a male Viera doing outside the Wood?' Kyun frowned at the both of them, for the first time in a long while, confused.

"Like what you see? Cause you can stop staring you racist bastard. There are such things as male Viera!" The Viera then proceeded to stomp over to him, his stilettos clacking on the stone floor. "Hume's never were the polite sort. So I shouldn't be surprised really," he said reaching him, yelling in his face, "What did you think; we popped out of the ground?"

"No." Kyun said glaring, annoyed and a little surprised the Viera's anger, "Of course not, but I had yet to hear of a male Viera leaving the Wood, so forgive me for staring."

At this the Viera deflated slightly and backed away enough that Kyun didn't have to breathe in his, well, it almost smelled like rotting plants. 'What the hell has he been eating?'

"Huh, a Hume apologizing? Is it a one time only appearance? Or are you one of those rare things that is actually polite?"

Kyun just gave him a look, "With that kind of welcome I'm not surprised if most of the reception you receive is less then friendly."

That started him off again, and Kyun took the chance to look at the Guado. He was looking at him with his eyes narrowed, and seemed to be thinking furiously. He didn't seem to have a weapon on him, but was twirling what looked to be a long wand in his hand, so Kyun supposed he must be a Summoner.

"Look," Kyun said, cutting off the Viera, and backing up a step, that breath really was awful, "Frak off already. I didn't mean to offend you, which I already stated, so get over yourself."

"I need to get over myself? Who's the one wearing sunglasses at night, in an unlit temple? Are you trying to start a new fashion trend? Bet you walk real well." he said smugly, folding his arms over his chest.

'Least I can walk without needing heels you nitwit.' Kyun thought, getting quite angry with him. "I can see fine, and that's all you need to know."

He glared but said, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"The light, and . . . something seemed to be asking me to." Kyun shrugged. "Which is I'm assuming the same reason you two are here?" looking between the two of them.

"Basically," said the Guado, finally speaking. "I didn't expect to have so much company though." He glared at the Viera in particular.

Kyun shrugged, "Well you do, so shall we?" he said, starting forwards.

"I don't need yours, or his, help.' he said and Kyun could tell by his expression that was just as self assured as the rest of his race, if not more so.

"No shit." The Guado raised both eyebrows in mild surprise, "But we're all here for the same reason, so let's just go. You might be rid of us sooner."

The side of his mouth quirked "True enough I suppose. Least you could do is tell me your name."

"Us! What am I invisible to you two?" shouted the Viera, catching up to Kyun as he stopped near the Guado.

Kyun gave him another look, "Kyun."

"And I am called Fynaer."

"Fjls Woodwarder."

Kyun nodded and started walking again. The Guado frowned as he went by and Kyun glared at him, the fear returning for a second before he pushed it down.

Kyun instead turned to Fjls, who was walking beside him, "No offence intended, but I thought only females were Woodwarders? Or at least, the few I've met said so."

*Slaps Weez or Chiko*

[Blademaster]

(smack)

.......Do I LOOK like a girl!?

Anyway, since the RPG is moving right along, I might as well post before I get left in the dust... Well, moreso than I already am.


Name: Dergan
Age: 15
Gender: Male
Species: Cetra
Physical Appearance: Dergan is a pretty scrawny guy, a good 65 inches tall and weighing only 124 pounds. He has bright, vibrant eyes and a pale complexion; he is rather gaunt, as though he is malnourished, and his thick blonde hair looks like he cut it himself. On his left shoulder he has a birthmark shaped like a crescent moon.
Clothing: Dergan wears a baggy sky-blue T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and VERY baggy black pants with a trio of metal straps around each leg. He wears a brown belt pulled to its tightest - it's the only way to keep his pants up. Around his left bicep is a white strap with red stains on it, and on either of his wrists is a thin black band with white studs all around it.
Personality: Dergan is a coward. A scaredy-cat. A pansy. He is in a near-constant state of fear, shaking and stuttering almost constantly. Only when he's alone does his anxiety seem to disappear - being around other people makes him horribly nervous, such to the point that usually, people don't want to bother with him.
Weapon: Dergan is unarmed; he carries an intricate metal staff with a red gem seated at the top, which could be considered his weapon. What the staff is or why he has it is unknown - all he knows of it is that it was left with him on the night he was left on the old couple's doorstep.
Secondary Weapon: N/A
Class: White Mage
Magic:
Slot 1 - Cure
Slot 2 - Blindna
Slot 3 - Poisona
Union: Purity Blitzkrieg - When Dergan's life is in jeopardy, or his emotions become critical, a sphere of white light surrounds him and then bursts outward as a series of baseball-sized light balls. The lights can vaporize evil creatures, purify non-evil creatures tainted by evil, and blow much of anything else to pieces. The attack is immensely powerful, but it is also hard to use properly, since Dargen is typically too terrified to really aim it properly...
Aeon: N/A
History: Dargen was, basically, a 'doorbell baby,' left laying in a basket on an elderly couple's front step. But, unlike on TV, the elderly couple didn't take him in - they instead put him up for adoption. He remained in an orphanage for 6 years, where he was bullied and picked on for his small size and timid personality, until finally the orphanage was shut down. The remaining orphans had nowhere to go, until a strange man adopted them all. Dargen was adopted along with 34 others, but as time wore on, Dargen realized something odd - namely, some of the other orphans seemed to vanish without a trace. Whenever the orphans' whereabouts came up, the old man replied that they'd been adopted.
He was lying, naturally - one day, Dargen and a few other orphans ventured down into the man's basement, eventually stumbling upon a secret room - a room littered by child-sized bones and inhabited by a very unfriendly Queen Coeurl. In a B-movie-like fashion, the Queen attacked, killing several of the orphans and later the man himself before the survivors burned down the house and scattered.
Ever since then, Dergan has lived on the street; he's never gotten over the ordeal with the old man and the Coeurl, or the sight of 9 people mutilted and devoured before his eyes, which accounts for his severe paranoia. He doesn't show signs of recovering anytime soon, which is ironic considering the strange new powers he's recently become aware he possesses...
Other: "Screw the other - I have money!" X3

------------------------------------------

Dergan

Dergan looked at the Antlions in sheer terror, his knees shaking and his teeth chattering despite the desert heat. These two monsters were about ready to eat him and Luneth for dinner, and nobody was around to help them.

As the Antlions drew closer to Luneth, Dergan tried to take a step forward, his fear-paralyzed body refusing to budge.

'Merciful Omega,' he thought, 'how did we ever get involved in all this...?'

[----------EARLIER THAT DAY----------]

"...98...99...100 Gil. There."

Dergan and Luneth looked down at the gold coins the jeweler had set on the counter with disappointment. Dergan, not wanting to cause a confrontation, reached out to accept the coins, but Luneth held out an arm, keeping Dergan back.

"Hold on there, Dergan..." the bodyguard said, frowning angrily at the jeweler. "You dirty thief, how can you pay us that little for that many crystals?!"

Luneth and Dergan were, for the most part, homeless - they shared a small, run-down house near the edge of town that noby else wanted, and they often did odd jobs around the town in order to make money.

Currently, the duo was 'employed' to obtain crystals from the desert and bring them back to the local jeweler, who cut, polished, and sold them for more than their fair price.

And Luneth and Dergan had just returned to town with a good 10 pounds of top-quality crystal, which Luneth calculated the jeweler could (or would) sell for at least ten thousand Gil.

So, it was plain for Luneth to see that he was being ripped off.

"Hey, pal, 'dem's da breaks." the jeweler said with a shrug. "Youse two didn't get enough crystal ta complete my order, so dat's all ya get. You want more Gil? Den go get me some more crystals. Pronto!"

Luneth clenched his fist, ready to bash the jeweler's face in and steal his cash register...

"O-O-O-Okay..." a quiet voice said.

Luneth's face relaxed; he glanced to the side, at his meek charge.

"Dergan...?" he said, almost in a whiny voice.

"C-c-come on, th-then, L-Luneth..." Dergan stammered, turning and shuffling towards the open door.

Luneth turned and watched Dergan leave, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He looked back and glared at the jeweler once more before turning and following Dergan out the door.

A short while later, once Dergan and Luneth had returned to the desert, Luneth said something out of the blue that Dergan was not expecting:

"Dergan, do you see that?"

The hair on the back of the White Mage's neck stood up on end. He slowly turned towards his bodyguard, a fearful look on his face.

"S-s-see wh-what...?" he asked.

"That." Luneth answered, pointing off towards the horizon.

Dergan followed Luneth's gaze.

There, far across the desert sands, was a twinling pinpoint of blue light, like a star on Earth. A blue aura pulsed slowly around it, somewhat like a heartbeat, the crystalline color standing out in stark contrast against the dark desert sky.

"Wh-what is th-that...?" Dergan asked, his stutter suddenly and inexplicably diminished.

"Dunno." Luneth replied, stepping forward. "But whatever it is......"

He trailed off briefly, before smiling and looking at Dergan again.

"Let's go check it out!"

Dergan's eyes flew open.

"Wh-wh-what?!" he exclaimed, his stutter returning with a vengeance. "A c-c-c-creepy l-l-l-light h-half-w-w-way ac-c-c-cross a d-d-desert?! N-n-no-no w-w-way!"

"Oh, come on, Dergan!" Luneth coaxed in a gentle, but excited voice. "That light could be a reflection from the mother of all crystals! Or maybe something even better! We gotta go check and see!"

"O-O-Or i-it c-c-could b-b-b-be an un-fffffriendly g-g-group of b-b-b-bandits...!" Dergan shot back.

"But Dergan...!"

"N-n-n-no, L-L-Luneth - I-I'm n-n-not g-going out th-th-there, and th-th-that is th-that!"

----------BACK IN THE PRESENT----------

Dergan groaned weakly as his flashback ended, leaving him and Luneth with the Antlions again, who were now close enough to Luneth that he actually punched the slashed one in its sword wound, causing it to shriek and leap back, its jaws clacking maliciously.

"Uh, Dergan...?" Luneth said slightly anxiously. "I could use a hand over here!"

Dergan bit his lip, tears streaming down his face - he was horrified of the prospect of being mauled by a pair of giant angry stag beetles, but he had to help Luneth - he was the closest thing in the world that Dergan had to family...

Luneth slashed with his Raigetsu, carving the damaged Antlions left mandible clean off. The monster hissed in fury and agony and fell back, green ichor spurting from its severed limb.

'Damn it all.' Luneth thought as his sword clashed with the foreclaw of the other Antlion. 'Aren't these things usually supposed to be docile?'

The Antlion reared up and, crossing its mandibles, managed to lock its jaws around the Raigetsu, forcing Luneth back as he struggled to maintain a grip on it.

A short distance away, the other Antlion stalked towards Luneth, its remaining mandible pointed straight at Luneth's ribcage.

"Dergan!"

Dergan fell to his knees, his hands over her his ears. Tears streamed down his face.

Luneth gritted his teeth and pushed his sword with all his might, forcing back the Antlion clamped onto his sword. Its hold loosened just enough for Luneth to pull his sword free and block the other Antlion's piercing mandible from tearing his chest open just in the nick of time.

The first Antlion charged again, mandibles clacking. Luneth jumped and kicked it between the eyes, sending it sprawling across the sandy ground on its back. Distracted by its sibling's plight, the injured Antlion removed its mandible from Luneth's sword...

Bad idea.

SKISH!

The Antlion stoof still for a moment, its glassy eyes fixed on Luneth, its mandible prepared to strike again.

And then, the right half of its head slid off on an angle, a thin white film stretching from the severed half to the head itself as it scraped off and fell sideways onto the sand. The Antlion's wound revealed a severed, grey, pulpy organ that pulsated briefly, then stopped. A second later, the Antlion toppled over, crashing down on its side onto the sand with a dull thud.

The first Antlion had gotten back to its feet by that point; its eyes swiveled in the direction of Luneth, then they slowly drifted to the dead Antlion laying on the sand before him.

The monstrous insect whimpered, and then its gaze turned back to Luneth. The monster trembled slightly, and then it howled and charged, its mandibles clacking frantically.

Luneth watched the beast charge at him, studying its movements carefully. It staggered up to him like a freight train and opened its jaws wide...

CHONK!

And it got a taste of the Raigetsu right in its soft, pulpy mouth. Thick ichor oozed out of the creature's mouth.

Smiling slightly, Luneth twisted his sword ninety degrees, snapping the insectoid's exoskeleton and tearing deep into its throat before wrenching the blade free. The Antlion reared up with a gurgle as the sword was yanked out, and then it fell to the ground with a crash.

Luneth sheathed his sword.

"Who needs an exterminator when I'm around?" he quipped, walking up to Dergan.

The Cetra was still on the ground, his cheeks stained with tears and his hands over his ears.

"Dergan..." Luneth said softly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Dergan jumped and snapped his head up, crying out in anguish until his eyes focused.

"L-L-Luneth..." he sobbed, sniffling loudly. "Y-y-you... A-are y-y-you...?"

"It's OK." Luneth said with a warm smile. "They won't bother us anymore." He offered Dergan his hand, which the smaller boy eagerly took and stood up.

"L-L-Luneth..." he sniveled, his head bowed and his shoulders heaving. "I-I-I-I'm s-s-so... s-s-so..."

Dergan choked on his own words. The word he was looking for was 'sorry...'

...But right now, 'pathetic,' 'weak,' 'useless,' and dozens upon dozens of other stinging synonyms were all that came to mind.

Dergan continued sobbing and stuttering incoherently, currently unable to express himself in any other way, until finally, Luneth placed a hand on his shoulder again; with his other hand, Luneth gently tilted Dergan's head up until they were looking at each other eye-to-bloodshot-eye.

"It's alright..." the warrior said gently. "It doesn't matter - you and I are both safe; that's what is important."

Dergan gulped, his sobs becoming heavier now, until finally the relief and the helplessness overtook him, and he collapsed against Luneth's chest, crying like the day he was born.

But as hard as he was crying, inside his mind, a small voice spoke out:

'I... I won't be a coward my whole life... I won't...!'

-----------------------------------------------

Well, now, Djinn, I'm sorry Dergan went all emo on you at the end there, but at least now you get what his character is like, no?

(picks up brick and hurls it)

Tag!

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

*big, Oggish grin* Well now, it's nice to know there's MORE yao-
*is hit by brick* *makes squishy, vaguely bubbling sounds* ...wrong person... brickses can't tell the difference... mmph wands...

Fjls Woodwarder
11. Cooking with charcoal
---------------------------

"No offense intended, but I thought only females were Woodwarders? Or at least, the few I've met said so."

The soul of the alraune, given renewed life in the pits of Fjls' stomach, ranted and raged and stamped its tiny nonexistent feet and tried to make its anger come out of the viera's mouth, as had happened mere moments ago. Fjls set his jaw. He wasn't going to let the little bugger rile him and make him seem even more hysterical than he already was, half-crazed by the heat and later cold and the lack of food that didn't try to maim or eat you first. Bloody mandragoras. If he'd had a choice in the first place, he wouldn't even bother with the rascally rapscallions...

He managed to answer the question quite civilly. "Elder had a funny sense of humour. So she decides to go stick a fellow's neck out for the ladies to all come and have a go at bullying, and puts him in the ranks of the Woodwarders. They don't talk about me, just as they don't talk about any other male viera."

One side of Kyun's mouth curved upwards, very slightly. "Heh. I'm used to hearing women complain about oppression... I assume it's much, much worse when a man does."

"Haven't heard any women complaining," said Fjls with all honesty.

Following this there was a workable, if slightly strained conversation (on Fjls' part; he was trying not to think about alraunes or plants in general and ignoring the little red tomato-sprites that danced before his eyes, soon joined by midget crimson rogues with spikes on their heads, all playing round-and-round the eksir berry bush till Fjls grew quite dizzy: also, Kyun tended to insert very audible silences at the ends of some of his sentences). The Village Elder Mune might have called it, in her usual way of glossing over things with vague euphemisms, strange that both individuals Fjls had met in this desert-temple so far possessed odd eyes. The Head Woodwarder Karj would have dismissed it as mere coincidence. Fjls, however, stored the bit of trivia away for future reference. It was probably a touchy subject for both parties concerned. The viera didn't want to get on the wrong side of that wand, which, inexplicably, disturbed him much more than the twin blades on Kyun's back did.

Fynaer had not said a word since introducing himself. Bastard.

By this time they had reached the end of the carpet. In a circular recess, an ornate sigil of gold plate had been affixed onto the severe ivory setting of the stones. Fjls stiffened - he could taste the magic in the air above the gilt sigil, coalescing in the chill breeze of night. There should not have been a breeze at all, the area apparently being enclosed, but the words sylphing through his lagomorphic ears told him, in light, cloying, playful tones, that anything could happen. Here. In the temple. Anything... could happen...

...in the temple of...

...temple of... ?...

"The - Spirit - is strong here," Fjls managed to choke out. "Life - stream - whatever - Humes call - it."

Fynaer spoke.

"Anyone could see that," said the Guado simply, and stepped daintily onto the teleporter. Kyun followed, throwing a look at Fjls, who plunged drunkenly forward, claws and heels clicking discordantly upon the marble.

Then they were gone, and the air was stagnant once more.
--------------------------
Ugh. Short and not very useful, but it'll do... I blame it all on the brick.

[Weasel Overlord]

This deserves recognition, cos every time I look at it, it makes me burst into laughter.
Viera, according to Word, is not a word. Here is the list of replacements it offers me every time…
Vera
Vieira
Vireo
VIAGRA
Veer
…that is all. *explodes into laughter*

Fynaer
// - If I could feel some love would it wake me from this crazy dream
And maybe make me see again?
I don’t need nothing but…*
-----
Silence. It filled the temple and made their voices resonate in its echoes. Fynaer felt it almost disrespectful to speak in such a place, but the Hume and the Viera-male just chatted away unawares. Although Fy was glad; at least he wouldn’t have to talk to Fjls if someone else was doing it.

He stood next to Kyun on the teleporter, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye. Something about him was…well, wrong somehow. Fynaer’s senses of the Lifestream had grown somewhat on his path as a Summoner, but they still weren’t quite keen enough to be able to tell him what the hell was weird about this Hume.

And Fjls. Well, he was just odd. No mystery there. Fynaer guessed that the females had given him a pretty hard time indeed, back in the Wood. But that didn’t make him any more bearable.

As the teleporter arrived at its destination, Fynaer was suddenly painfully aware of the ebbing and flowing of the spirit around him. It buffeted him and he closed his eyes tightly, swaying with it, rather than against it, as the Fayth had advised all those years ago.

Deep within his soul, he could feel Naer stirring restlessly, baring gleaming white teeth at the spirit which had disturbed his slumbers. Fynaer silenced the angry Aeon with a thought. The spirit was obviously troubled, but about what he could not yet sense.

He exhaled sharply, clenching his hands until fingernails dug into flesh. The feeling that he was not worthy of knowing the secrets of the lifestream mocked at him, until Fynaer could take it no longer, and a low moan escaped his lips unbidden, earning him looks of curiosity from the two he stood next to.

His eyes snapped open in anger at the outburst as he inwardly kicked himself.

“What’s up with you, eh?” Kyun raised an eyebrow quizzically, one of his eyes squeezed shut and a hand clapped over it.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Fynaer was furious with himself for letting his composure slip, if only for a second, and his voice was tight with anger. “What’s wrong with you?” Kyun looked decidedly unwell, and as shaky as Fynaer felt, if not worse, and not to mention that there seemed to be something wrong with his eye. His voice held a slight quiver, as if he was holding in the urge to throw up.

“You don’t look fine to me. In fact, you look bloody pissed off. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I think Fjls is worse. You should see how he is. And maybe sort yourself out too, while you’re at it.” Fynaer had to really fight to keep a hold of his temper, which, to his surprise, was threatening to flare up. He put it down to the spirit-flow in this damned temple, although he’d been in temples before, so that wasn’t exactly the most likely explanation. Fynaer felt certain that it was something to do with the company, and the peculiar buffetings of the lifestream in this place. Yes, there was definitely something weird about Kyun. But that could wait for another day, when Fy wasn’t feeling like death warmed up.

He massaged his brow and temples with a grimace as Kyun turned to Fjls, who by now was shivering and quaking and looking somewhat insane. He had a lopsided smile pasted on his face and he appeared to be muttering words under his breath which were punctuated with the odd manic laugh and sideways glance which looked decidedly shifty.

What a bloody group to be stuck with! A male Viera, a Hume who could only just hold himself up, let alone anyone else, and a Guado Summoner who couldn’t even read the lifestream. Pfah!

It was at times like this when Fynaer felt Naer’s absence the most, and he was extremely tempted to summon the great wolf. But it probably wasn’t such a good idea to be summoning or performing any magic when he felt so ill, and especially not when the spirit breezes were so damn strong. Although…

Fynaer looked around at his surroundings, and paused, feeling the air. The breeze had stopped! He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped down from the ornate platform and onto the plain marble floor.

“The pull of the lifestream has ceased.” He commented, a tinge of gratitude in his voice. Fynaer smiled, just briefly, at Naer’s reaction. He was happy that the spirit had finally stopped pestering him, and now he was settling down to have a nice sleep, and could Fynaer not summon him for a while, please?

Relief flashed on the faces of his companions too, though it was most palpable on Kyun’s. Interesting. Fynaer hadn’t heard of too many Hume warriors who were that sensitive to the spirit. Yet another thing that was suspicious about Kyun.

Fynaer just couldn’t put his finger on it, but whatever it was, it nagged and pestered and fidgeted at the back of his mind and it wouldn’t let him rest until he found out the truth.

But for now, he supposed, this being a temple and all, that he should try and find the Fayth. And if it no longer stood, then he should at least say a prayer where it had once been, proud and whole.

But first he had to find the damn thing. Perhaps the useless duo could help, though Fynaer doubted it. Fjls didn’t look as if he’d been out of the Wood before this, and Kyun didn’t seem too familiar with temples himself.

Fynaer sighed heavily. “I’m going to try and find the Fayth. I can’t think of any other reason why I should be here. You two can come or stay, it’s all the same to me.” He turned on his heel and pulled out his wand. It was always better to be prepared for fiends, especially in old, abandoned-looking temples in the middle of nowhere.

*If anyone's wondering, the italicised bits are lyrics from The End, by FAKE?.

[Crystal Tears]

In a bit of a rush...

Suzuka

As the light given off by the souls of the dead began to die, it became easier for Suzuka to sense the intruders. There were some that had simply stumbled upon it, their lives driven to take in the glory that hid in the deepest trenches of this dark place, and yet, even as they walked the dark hallways… They thought nothing of the doom that stalked them, waiting… Watching…

One woman had called Suzuka the angel of death, for she was undaunted by any weapon, and no one seemed able to lay a hand on her. But this wasn’t true, Suzuka had been sliced, shot, and otherwise hurt many times… She just refused to show pain, her back ached with a cut that wasn’t open, and her heart struggled to pump the blood through her veins every second she was alive.

Existence was a pain, but a pain she had to deal with. She had to see this world to its end, and she planned on doing so, any way she could.

Her shoes made no sound on the floor now, as she was stalking someone. He was somewhat crouched, looking in all directions available except for directly behind him. He was paranoid; Suzuka’s dark influence was infecting him, making his hair stand on edge as she inched closer. Slowly she crept closer, drawing her katana from its sheath. The blade was a dark, malicious blue that gleamed when she was sure she was going to kill him.

Suzuka halted, watching him dart into a room with a smile on his wicked face. As she stalked him, she nearly dropped her weapon in shock. The man was shoving sacred items into an old bag, with no respect, with no care.

Now she shot forward, sword raised in offensive gesture as she attacked from the shadows. The sword moved with grace, its blade seemed to cut through the man’s wrist in slow-motion. The blood waited for a second before spraying. But the spray was short lived as it began to pour from the wound, staining the already ruined carpet.

“A thief in Bahamut’s temple?” Suzuka snarled, easily moving the blade so that his other hand was to be removed, but he reacted, bringing his hand back just a bit so that only half remained. His four fingers fell to the ground with light thuds. The man cried out, but was silenced as Suzuka kicked him back, shattering a rib that was sent into one of his lungs.
He was gasping, waving what was left of his hand around in a gesture for her to stop.

“P-please…” He gasped, leaning forward as oxygen was becoming harder to obtain. “P-p…”

She lunged then, thrusting the blade of her Katana through his stomach. He gasped, watching his own blood fly from his mouth.

“There is no mercy for those who steal in the house of the Dragon lord.” She snarled, wrenching her blade upwards, tearing the middle of his body apart.

Stepping away, Suzuka pulled out a small cloth and wiped the blood from the blade. Quietly she slid it back into the sheath, and went back into the hall.

There was another, and he was coming… Fast…

She darted into the other room, watching another similar dressed man come to a halt. His eyes were fixated on the room which his comrade laid in, and slowly he inched inwards. He covered his mouth in horror, seeing his friend mutilated on the ground must’ve rock him to the core, because the thief dashed.

But a sharp, cold pain travelled up and down his spine before it was overwhelmed by a deep chill. He fell to the ground with a grunt, and let his gasps for air quicken as his legs refused to remove. Suzuka moved closer, her hand was glowing light blue as ice crystals swirled around it.

“One hit shatters the spine and freezes the blood…” Suzuka mused; she eyed the ice and then the thief again. “I wonder what a shot to the head would do…”

The man let out a half a scream before the shot of ice hit his skull, shattering the back and freezing the rest.

. . .

He was laughing to himself, murmuring something about the leader, Zaszie? Maybe, she wasn’t listening to closely, but when he muttered something about a woman living in the temple, she began to pay attention.

“What the hell was he on about anyways?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Something about a Captains daughter? Here?” The thief snickered and shoved another trinket inside his bag. “Good thing Zaszie put a stop to-“

Suzuka stepped in the doorway, sword drawn and at the ready.

“Do tell me what your fellow comrade told you.” Suzuka wore a smirk as she closed it. The man pulled out a small dagger, and braced himself.

“I ain’t telling you nothing.” He snarled. But when Suzuka’s blade shot through his thigh, he dropped the dagger and cried out.

“Now.” She hissed, twisting the sword.

“He said something about a Captain’s little girl running away from here, never saw her since or something!” He screamed as the blade twisted again. “Please! I don’t know anything more! He just said that the girl was dead and-“

Suzuka tore the blade from his leg, with ease she brought it up and then sliced into his neck. Blood sprayed from the open wound and splattered onto the floor. Some nearly got on the stalker, but she moved out of the way, watching the body slam into the floor.

“Stealing from the house of god will only bring you pain.” Suzuka snapped at the body, leaving the room as her senses reached out to find another.

But her senses were abruptly hindered, life was pouring from the chamber, echoing outwards for all who are in tune to hear, to feel… It sent shivers down her spine, and though her mind wanted to deny the request, to deny her god…

She couldn’t…

She was walking through the corridors now, her body slightly bent as she crept. Though her senses picked up another form, another intruder, the call was too much. And she sneaked by, undetected by whoever was wandering Bahamut’s halls.


The chamber of Fayth was located at the very bottom of this darkened temple. The halls still clung to their beauty, unlike the rest of it. They were white, with gold tapestries handing from silver hooks actually to the wall. Deep red curtains draped along the stone walls, and a purple carpet lined with a deep blue lead the way to the ancient doors that somehow had been opened.

Suzuka stood there; the chamber was round and was highly decorated, like the walls outside. Opposing the door was a large, looming figure of a sleek, like well built, and armour dragon. Its head hung over and despite the magick of this place had diminished, the statue’s eyes stilled glowed brightly, and under the crystal floor she could see life stream swirling, as if the planet hadn’t been abandoned after all.

Bahamut’s statue was beautiful… Something that was built to grab your attention, to demand your respect…

The world had long stopped respecting such treasures now, and the gods, like Ifrit and Shiva, were no longer evident. Suzuka clung to Bahamut because she knew he was there, watching over everyone who deserved his godly protection.

She knelt before the statue, bowing her head in respect as the pyreflies surrounded her once more. Ignoring the faint footsteps that only seemed to grow louder, and muffled words about how suddenly the halls changed from ruined to royal. But then the ancient door behind the warrior, Suzuka was tempted to peek. Just who else was running about the temple? Were they thieves too?

“Not that I’m not an expert or anything Fynaer, but wasn’t Bahamut a guy?”

~~~

In blunt english since the plot isn't so clear... Get to the chamber if you can ^^''

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Fjls Woodwarder
Dragon God.
----------------------------

Once upon a time, there was a god.

The myth of the dragon king says that of the all the terrible wyrms of earth, sea and sky, they owed no allegiance but to one, the most terrible of them all. Gradually, as other creatures spread across the world, the age of the dragons' supremacy began to wane; other races more adaptable to the lay of the land stole from them, their forests and their mountains and their prey, but they at least recognized the sovereignty of the dragon king, who was - is - one of the greatest fayth of all time...

The legend of the dragon king says that - but there are many legends. No one can swear if any one of them is truth, nor can the reverse be proven.

Warriors, light and dark alike, win their quests with the blessing of the dragon king. They seek him in perhaps a cave, a remote mountain peak, an unknown grotto. Strongholds of plate iron rusting over with age, covered in moss, submerged underwater. A piece of magic rock. Gemstones imbued with the power of the god, clotted-blood-red scintillating in the sun. Essence of dragon compressed into a rough sphere held snug in the hand. For luck and for bravery. There is always fighting to be done with the dragon king. He grants not his power to those who cannot best him in combat, for to him that is how it should be done - with dragons that is how it should be done.

A boy dreams, and his dream is the dream of thousands. In his dream he is armoured, clawed, fanged, winged: he roars and the oceans tremble, a sweep of his wings, featheredscaledhusked, and a gale whisks away, scattering the clouds. He glides swiftsharp and his shadow eclipses the moon. Oh he knows that power is not always the answer. But who argues with the dragon king?

A temple is built.

A great voice, like thunder rolling in a silent sky.

I am Bahamut the Destroyer...

The temple spoke to him. The echoes of lost times. Ancient but not forgotten: and how could stones forget? The stones saw and remembered. Lines of priests chanting prayers in a procession. Summoners on their journeys. Fjls could sit down and listen to them all day, stories spooling out from all around, from the dark ceiling, the close corridors, the wrought motifs chasing each other along the walls and over the pillars in a neverending ornamentation. It was not a sensation similar to that experienced by a summoner, in that a summoner was called by the fayth, or was calling to the fayth, nor did he harbour the summoner's vocation: Fjls heard and was content: it was the Spirit that was driving him to frenzy: the Spirit was not calm and reassuring, as it was in the Wood: Lifestream, not Spirit:

here be dragonsI am Bahamut the Destroyeronly to those worthy shall I lend my power

Eyes glazed and teeth bared, Fjls crept along the winding hallways, sometimes ahead of the other two, and sometimes lingering far behind. A detached part of his mind kept up with Kyun and Fynaer, at least in the physical sense. There was nothing coherent to be got out of the viera, who would in his state sooner have replied to the grotesques squatting in the niches of the chambers than to questions as footling as "What is your name?" In his current vision, the mouths of the stone dragons moved; their scales shone as the finest jasper. The patterns on the floor clung to his feet like new skin. Every step he took was a waking dream.

The way down was long and labyrinthine. Doubtless there was treasure cached within. The temple itself was treasure. An enterprising thief could get rich simply by shingling the priceless tiles off its roof, providing he could stand the extreme temperatures of the terrain. Surprising that so much of it had survived intact; perhaps someone was attending to the place, a lone priest or priestess left over from the old days. Of the many winding paths that the trio espied throughout the dragon temple, only one was constant, the one they were on now. It could lead only to one place -

"The chamber of the fayth." Maybe Kyun, maybe Fynaer, though judging by the clipped tone of the statement, most likely Fynaer. The doors had been thrown wide open... by whom?

“Not that I’m not an expert or anything Fynaer, but wasn’t Bahamut a guy?” Kyun, thought Fjls, fighting an uncontrollable twitching of the eye, and failing.

A woman stood before them, her raven hair impossibly long, her face stern and set. If the sword in her hand was anything to go by, she was not someone to be messed with.

And behind her...

...Bahamut the Destroyer.
--------------------------
Filler. Hope the mythology is suitably ambiguous >< will edit if something is wrong. I had wanted to word Bahamut's title as 'Bahamut the King', but wasn't sure if Odin was going to be a fayth in this RP.

[Pichu Luver]

Kyun

'Oh Gods and Goddesses above, why a teleporter?' Kyun tried not to show his nervousness as the three of them stepped up to it. The Lifestream was already quite active, brushing against his consciousness gently, wondering and whispering.

The last time he had been on one of these . . . describing it as 'unpleasant' was the nicest way to put it. Fjls did not look good and Kyun glanced at him quickly, but he managed to get up to the glyph.

Kyun swallowed his nerves, and started focusing all his attention inward. He barely noticed Fynaer stealing looks at him. A second after they all had stopped moving, they were off.

It only lasted a few seconds, but those few seconds were pure agony for Kyun. The Lifestream was calling, singing its heart out, begging him. Blue and turquoise filled his vision, surrounding him. With every fibre of his being he screamed no, never, he would have his choice this time.

It abruptly ended and Kyun collapsed as they appeared on the other end. He breathed heavily, and he blinked rapidly to get the glow out of his eyes. It was then he noticed a bright blue and turquoise light seemed to be reflecting off the stones. He sucked in a breath and swiped of his glasses, squeezing his right eye shut and clapping his free hand over it.

He staggered to his feet, feeling very weak, and his entire body shaking with the effort of holding him up. Fynear had his eyes tightly shut and was clenching his fists, and Fjls didn't look quite 'with it' so it was doubtful they had seen him fall. The Lifestream was whispering fervently all the while, Kyun ignoring it as best he could.

All of a sudden a moan came out of Fynaer and Kyun looked at him worriedly. It even jarred Fjls loose of wherever place he was.

"What's up with you, eh?" he said trying to sound jovial, and failing. He mentally cursed himself for how his voice wavered.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Fynaer snapped. His voice was clipped with tightly reined anger. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kyun just shrugged and chose not to answer, "“You don’t look fine to me. In fact, you look bloody pissed off. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I think Fjls is worse. You should see how he is. And maybe sort yourself out too, while you’re at it.” Kyun raised an eyebrow at him but didn't press it any further. He managed to walk over to Fjls, but he was all right, just suffering from the peculiarity all Viera's had when the Lifestream was prevalent.

Abruptly the whisperings stopped and Kyun sighed, the weakness leaving him immediately and the aching subsiding to the usual levels.

“The pull of the Lifestream has ceased.” Fynear said, smiling briefly. Kyun nodded, the relief obvious on his face. This garnered another suspicious look from Fynaer, and Kyun avoided catching his eye.

'For that matter . . .' Kyun took his hand off his eye and nodded to himself. He put his sunglasses back on and rolled his shoulders.

Fynaer had been staring at him but seemed to decide that whatever it was was unimportant. Instead he said, “I’m going to try and find the Fayth. I can’t think of any other reason why I should be here. You two can come or stay, it’s all the same to me.”

He turned on his heel and pulled out his wand, a watchful expression on his face as he stepped of the dais and into the hallway.

"Might as well come. Summoners are supposed to have Guardians aren't they?" Kyun said, getting out his knives.

"Not all Summoners need a group of lackeys to protect them." Fyanera said, sounding affronted and glaring at him.

Kyun snorted. "No, they don't. But having two-" Kyun glanced at the currently quite mad looking Veira as he darted about, "-ok maybe one warrior to fight with you can't hurt can it?"

Fynear smirked at the Viera, "Maybe not."

The wandered the halls, meeting no challenges, when they found a highly decorated hallway that was quite wide. They walked down it and reached the large ornate doors, currently wide open.

"The chamber of the fayth." said Fynaer. Kyun looked at him, but his face was unreadable.

Kyun turned back to the chamber, and the statue within, and noticed a woman appeared to be kneeling at its feet.

Kyun frowned, he knew very little about the fayth but, “Not that I’m not an expert or anything Fynaer, but wasn’t Bahamut a guy?”

*Gets the Pan*

FOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUURRR!

*The golf ball sails and twacks . . .*

[Weasel Overlord]

*gets a golf-ball in the eye* Ow, motherf**ker!! That hurt!

Fynaer
// - don’t get eaten by faces that come out of the walls in temples
-----
Fynaer shot a glance at Kyun, a sharp look in his eye.

“Of course Bahamut was a guy. You don’t think that he’s actually still alive, do you?” He shook his head in disgust. “This woman isn’t Bahamut. If anything she’s a temple protector, a warrior of some sort.” He snorted at the thought of the lord Bahamut being a woman before turning to walk towards the kneeling figure.

As he approached her, his eyes flickered once before rolling back into his head, enveloping his mind in darkness. There was a rushing sound and he felt his knees colliding with the cold smoothness of the marbled floor…

a majestic shadow falls over mine as I crouch against the floor, blood rushing in my ears and darkness enveloping my vision as the great beast squares his shoulders and roars against the wind.

I strain to look up, although I fear to see what lies before me…the lord Bahamut is not known for his mercy or hospitality, but my eyes widen as I see the woman (from the temple, she is) stood at his side, a languid smile on her face as the mighty Aeon bellows his challenge once more to the skies, his roars reverberating through my body.

Her eyes pierce mine and another flash of darkness overwhelms my mind. My vision is taken over by a pair of staring eyes. They are all I can look at, fluid and transient, and as they pierce my very soul, I am swept away by a feeling of death. I grasp at the floor in desperation…

But then the scenery changes. It is cold, and chips of ice and flurries of snow whirl round my ears and freeze my toes and my voice is stilled from the sheer force of the chill.

It is a mountain. I cannot see for the blizzard, but I know this to be true. Just as, over the howl and scream of the wind, I hear a gentle, feminine voice singing words that are whipped away across the mountain almost before they reached my ears.

I look around in wonder, searching, oh, searching for that voice. But I do not find the source. My eyes fall upon a dread sight, and suddenly I am filled with fear, desperation.

The spear is a cold and deathly blue and it pierces the ground as it would a body, with no mercy; the long pole-handle thrusting far into the sky, and my eyes widen as I am falling once more, only this time…

A motley collection of concerned faces filled Fynaer’s vision as it slowly returned with each blink. He groaned a little and clutched at his head as the loppy-eared countenance of that Viera pest swam into focus.

“Oh god, it’s you. Piss off, Viera, I’ve got a headache.” Fjls looked insulted, but still high, which accounted for the lack of angry retorts.

Fynaer glanced at all the faces with his single good eye. Kyun, that temple woman and a mask. A mask? Oh god, the temple woman…she had those freaky eyes…

He attempted to sit up, but the sudden movement sent a lance of pain through his head and he flopped back down again with a grimace.

“Okay, so why are you on the floor, Summoner-man?” The mask.

“He just fell over.” Kyun.

A snigger. Fjls.

“I’m betting he had a vision or something. What’s his name, anyway?” The temple woman.

“He’s called Fynaer.” Fjls again. “Although he’s a rude bastard, so he probably wouldn’t tell you that.” Fynaer smirked at this, before dizziness finally overcame him and his world was black once more.

-----

TAG Y’ALL! *lobs large book of poetry* that’s what I think of YOU, English lit! hahaha! *cackles madly* now they’ll never make me do that presentation…NEVAH!

[Samchu]

Oren
~~~~

Okay...so perhaps walking into a mysterious temple in the middle of a black-sanded desert wasn't the best idea ever. Sure it was radiating with ancient beauty and bursting with artifacts worth more gil than I'd seen in my life but was that really worth all the near death experiences? Honestly, where was the sign-posts warning poor bastards like me that these corridors were crawling with monsters? Not that I couldn't deal with them of course - I'd seen off enough fiends in my time to hold my own - but there was just so many of them! And I couldn't run forever.

Darting round a corner, I paused for a moment to take breath, gasping in the warmth air that filled the halls. Behind me came the fearsome snarls of approaching fiends, four-leggers with teeth and claws strong enough to cut through rock. Even at full strength I'd struggle to out run them, and I was exhausted. I felt the crystals in my pockets and sighed. Here I was risking my life for a few shiny rocks. Was it really worth it? I pulled one out and held it between my fingers, watching as the light bounced of its surface. They were so beautiful.

A snarl at my side made me jump back, panic forcing the crystal from my hand before I had time to think about my actions. It struck the shadowed form in the face and exploded, throwing the fiend to its rear and throwing up a cloud of black smoke. I gulped and stared. What the hell just happened? I pulled out another crystal. These things were...explosive? I could have been blown to bits just by having them in my pockets! I grabbed at piles as quickly as I could, taking care to keep contact at a minimum. If these things were gonna run the risk of killing me then I wanted nothing to do with them. I threw them to the ceiling and ran, stumbling as the blast threw rocks to the floor behind me. A wave of relief washed over me as I looked back to find a wall of stone seperating me from the fiends. For now at least, I was safe.

I ventured deeper into the temple. Somewhere there had to be a room where the summoner would have gone to pray - that's what these temples were supposed to have anyway - if I could find that then I would be able to rest up for the night in peace. At least, that's what I thought I'd be able to do.

It turned out that the chamber already had visitors of its own, and a fair few at that. There was a woman - and a pretty damn good-looking one at that - stood beneath the statue of a great dragon - Bahamut, if I remembered the teachings correctly. Between us was an odd group. There was a tanned hume standing over a Guado - who was laying flat on the ground - and beside him was a strange being with a pair of rabbit-like ears. I stared at the rabbit-person for a moment. I'd heard men talk of such beings during their visits to the stables but for the life of me I couldn't remember what they'd called them. I bit my lip. I knew it began with a "V". Vireo...Viagra...Veer...Vera...Viera...Viera! That's it, they're called Vieras!

Suddenly the woman spoke. "Are you lost?"

I just shrugged. "I guess so. You guys mind if I stay here? There's a hell of a lot of fiends out there and to be honest, I really ent in the mood to be facing them right now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OOC: Thanks to Weasel Overlord for Oren's attempts to remember 'Viera'

[Blademaster]

Well, since nobody else seems willing to do anything, and my 'partner' is MIA, then here's a little update on how my two characters (glares at Hunter) are doing...

-----------------------------------------------

Dergan

Dergan looked up at the massive temple before him with a fearful look in his eyes. The ominous structure, once as grand and majestic as a king's palace, was now a dark and decrepit wreck - a massive shadow against the dusky sky, looming over Dergan and Luneth like a monster that threatened to devour them body and soul.

The White Mage sighed and stepped inside the open doorway behind Luneth - though no other monsters had attacked them since the Antlions earlier, the pair had remained on their guard, and were quite relieved to finally find shelter - no matter how spooky it was.

"Well," Luneth said, looking back outside, "we made it. And not a moment too soon - I think a sandstorm was starting to kick up out there. Stupid desert..."

While Luneth grumbled to himself about the desert's climate patterns, Dergan took a few steps forward and looked around.

The duo was standing inside a huge and elaborate entrance hallway, the walls of which rose up a good twenty feet on either side of them before terminating into an arched ceiling another five feet up. Old, worn paintings adorned the walls, and chipped, rusted statues of metal and crystal patrolled the corridor, which ran a good fifty feet before terminating at what looked like a T-intersection.

Dergan blinked, confused - from a distance, this temple had looked so bright and vibrant, but close up it was a dark wreck, only dimly lit by the twilit sky and a few stray torches lining the walls.

"So," Luneth said, stepping up beside Dergan, "whattaya think? Nice place, huh?"

"N-n-not r-really..." Dergan stuttered, holding his scepter against his chest fearfully. "Wh-why ex-xactly a-are w-w-we h-here ag-gain...?"

Luneth sighed and smiled weakly.

"Come on." he responded, walking down the hall past Dergan; seeing no other options, the meek Cetra followed him.

At the end of the hallways, Luneth looked both ways, trying to decide which path to take.

Both paths looked identical - they were short, dimly lit by a single torch on either wall, and they curved towards the inner reaches of the temple after a short distance.

Dergan looked to the right, then the left, his face twisted with worry.

"Which way should we go?" Luneth asked.

"B-b-back." Dergan replied.

Luneth rolled his eyes.

"Stand back." he instructed.

Dergan gulped and backed away.

Luneth drew his Raigetsu and backed up a couple of steps.

"I saw this in an old movie once." he explained. He hurled the sword up into the air. It spun high into the air, and then it slowed and reversed itself, spinning back to Earth and hitting the ground with a clatter.

Luneth frowned - the sword was pointing back towards the entrance.

"S-s-see...?" Dergan stammered.

Luneth grunted and looked behind Dergan, squinting.

"What is that?" he muttered.

Dergan's eyes widened; he spun around.

"Wh-wh-wh-where!?" he stammered.

Luneth kicked his sword genly, causing it to spin 90 degrees to the left so it pointed down the left corridor.

"Oops, false alarm." Luneth said, smiling a bit. "Just a rat."

Dergan held a hand to his chest and sighed, turning back around. He looked down at Luneth's sword, a confused look on his face; then he looked up at Luneth, realization dawning on him.

"Divine intervention." Luneth said with a smile and a shrug. He picked up his sword and sheathed it, then began to walk down the corridor. Dergan, seeing no other alternatives, followed him.

The pair walked around the bend before them in relative silence, reaching another long corridor, this one ending with a massive spiral staircase leading higher up into the temple. They climbed the stairs, which seemed to stretch on forever, before coming to a doorway.

"Halleluiah." Luneth mumbled. "NOW we're getting somewhere." He stepped through the doorway; Dergan followed him...

And bumped right into his back. Luneth had stopped for some reason; peaking around Luneth's torso, Dergan saw exactly what it was, his feet becoming as heavy as lead in the process: Before the duo was a large chamber, the floor of which seemed to have almost entirely crumbled away over years of neglect. Only a thin walkway of brick and a few isolated plinths protruding from the walls remained, a few half-broken columns suspended here and there from the ceiling. At the far end of the room, almost entirely hidden in darkness, was another doorway; a faint glimmer of light eminated from within the room beyond it...

'Oh, dear sweet Shiva...' Dergan thought, trembling with terror. He clung to Luneth, shivering like a leaf on a frail tree in a hurricane on Jupiter.

"Hey, hey, easy there..." Luneth said softly, patting Dergan on the shoulder. "We can get across here, no problem."

Dergan's actions didn't change in the slightest.

"Would you feel better if I carried you on my back?" Luneth asked with a sigh.

Again, no response, but Dergan did seem to shake a little less at the suggestion.

"I'll take that as a yes." Luneth said. he knelt down and pulled Dergan's arms over his shoulders; the smaller boy immediately clasped his hands in front of his bodyguard's clavicle as tightly as he could. At the same time, Luneth reached his hands around behind Dergan's knees, pulling the boy up in a sitting position, Dergan wrapping his legs tightly around Luneth's midsection in response, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

"OK, Dergan," Luneth said. "Here we go..." He took a step forward onto the narrow walkway.

Then another.

And another...

Dergan was still tense, but he didn't react at all, so Luneth began walking at a normal pace.

"How ya holding up, there, little buddy?" Luneth asked when they were about halfway across.

"D-d-d-don't w-w-wanna d-d-d-die... d-d-d-don't w-w-wanna d-d-d-die... d-d-d-don't w-w-wanna d-d-d-die..." Dergan whimpered in response.

"We won't." Luneth assured him, smiling as he continued walking. "We're almost across; just relax, hold on tight, and whatever you do, don't look-"

CRACK!

Luneth froze in his tracks and looked around; Dergan tightened his grip.

RRRRRRROOOM...

Luneth looked straight ahead, the color drained from his face.

"...Down."

KER-ROOOM!!

With a thunderous roar, the walkway beneath Luneth's feet gave way, plunging him and Dergan into the dark abyss below...

----------------------------------------------

OK, someone else can take over from here.

[Crystal Tears]

Suzuka

She didn’t know whether to be impressed by these people, ever so different, made it here, or thoroughly annoyed. It seemed that any time she tried to escape the world outside it came looking for her, intentionally or not. With a low groan she turned from the group, thinking about what to do. Yes she was an exceptional warrior, but it was impossible for her to end all their lives without hers ending as well. She remembered the odd rumble she had heard before the recent adventure had joined them, and turned to him.

“What was that rumble that we heard before you arrived?” Suzuka questioned.

“An explosion..” He answered simply.

“In this corridor?”

He nodded, and Suzuka frowned deeply. Worry began to swarm in her, that corridor had been the only way out of this chamber beside the other passage. But that dark place was devoid of light, and anything resembling life. Corpses, ghosts, and ghouls ran rampart in that place, and the deeper you went, the worse it became. She let a small sigh escape and focused on the rest of the group, though her senses were thrown off from the man… Odd, he was a Hume, maybe? No… He was half and half?

“My name is Suzuka.” She stated. “What are yours?”

“Oren.” Answered the other Hume; who was normal, thankfully…

“I’m Kyun.” The odd one announced, Suzuka stared at his aura for a moment, trying to figure out what was making it feel so odd. She was having no luck.

The Viera was silent for a moment, and Suzuka seemed to feel a sort of uncomfortable annoyance coming from the rabbit-eared creature. “I’m Fjls Woodwarder.”

And finally the other, he wore something on his face, though Suzuka couldn’t tell what it was, due to her sheer lack of anything other then her sense. The shape seemed to be something of a breathe mask, but why would anyone wear that here?

“Zaszie.”

“Za..szie?” She growled; gripping her weapon tighter as the name came back from memory. He nodded, and looked around. But she held herself firm, fighting her killing instinct as it willed her to leap at him and behead him for bringing him and his cursed crew inside this holy temple. “Right… Anyways… The corridor that you all came from has suffered an explosion, and if I am assuming correctly, the pathway is now blocked.”

“Yeah, plus there were fiends on the other side.”

Another loud rumble shook the chamber, much farther off though, on the other side of the temple probably. She was beginning to wonder how long this temple was going to last if fiends and intruders decided to tear it down…

The murderer let out a drawn out sigh as she walked towards a highly decorated wall. The designs on it were not of the nice design; it showed people eating each other, or themselves. Flesh was falling from their bodies and they clung to iron swords and maces. But in the center of this chaos was a round face, a sickly grin baring jagged, yellow teeth were bared. What seemed like the attacking end of a three pronged spear was stabbed through its head while the outer prongs framed its face.
Touching the wall gently, the face shone brightly with a green hue before the wall shifted, sliding upwards to reveal a dark staircase.

“Believe me… Where we are going,” Suzuka called back to Oren. “You’re going to wish we were fighting those fiends…”

“What do you mean?” Zaszie questioned. “What’s down here?”

“This is a place where the living die and the dead live.” She replied, keeping her sword firmly in hand. “A long time ago, when Disease first began terrorizing this world, they locked those infected down here. Their screams for help and mercy echoed through the halls for days, even after they were all dead. One of the priest decided it was time to send any spirits that still clung to this world; he wandered into the darkness, only to find that the spirits had not only clung to this world, but clung to their old bodies. He was horrified by the sight, and ran for the exit. Only to have his apprentices shut the door on him.”

“Wasn’t that Measter Cuchulainn?” Oren commented. “His apprentices said that he had caught the Disease.”

“They never bothered to check, instead, they left him to rot with the others.” Suzuka stated; her senses straining see anything in this life barren hole. “It was said that they could hear him scream, as the undead ate him alive. After that, all they ever heard was a monotone laugh from hell. Shortly after, all his apprentices that still wandered the temples died, their bodies withering away before everyone’s eyes in a matter of seconds.”

“You think it was the Measter?” Kyun called from the back as he and Fjls carried the unconscious summoner. “I mean, I know Disease works fast, but that seems to be a little extreme.”

“It probably was.” Fjls retorted. “Magick can be very powerful, and this place is brimming with decay magic.” Fjles snorted. “Only a female would come up with the stupendous plan of walking down a hallway riddled with Disease.”

Suzuka bit her tongue and resisted the dominating urge to kill the overgrown rodent.


“Disease isn’t air born.” Zaszie stated. “Fact, its unknown how anyone catches it.”

“Helpful.” Oren murmured. “So where are all the dead things?”

“A Summoner once came down here; she said that the dead the priests claimed to be wandering these dark halls had vanished. It might be possible that the Measter did in fact send them, even as they ate him.”

“That’s disgusting.” Fjls huffed, his expression matching his words.

The summoner murmured something, but no one caught it. Instead, they trudged on, the corridor seemed to be growing wider and wider before everyone had to stop. This place, this room… It was massive! It might even be bigger then the temple that rests upon it. Huge torches sat upon the wall and burned a bright green, revealing that the massive room was covered in thousands of rotting corpses and skeletons that were close to turning to dust.

“Holy frak and Anima’s ass, who decorated?” Kyun grumbled in disbelief, as everyone else tried to take in the sight while diverting the smell of more then one thousand rotting corpses.

“Was that summoner blind?” Oren gawked.

“I-i-is-is any-y-one t-t-there?” Came a voice so meek that Suzuka could barely hear it. She strained her senses, but it was there. Life up top a hill of rubble and rock, another also lay there, but his mind was quiet, he was unconscious.

“Hello?” Suzuka replied, slightly surprised anyone with the capability to talk was down here…

“H-help!”

‘Great….’ She thought with a frown. ‘More people.’

“Are you undead!?” Kyun called out.

Suzuka smacked the Hume on the back of the head.

“WHAT?!” He snapped, rubbing the back of his head with an annoyed expression.

“Behave.”

There was a snicker from others and Kyun snorted, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“N-n-n-noo!” Came the voice again.

“Prove it!”

Suzuka didn’t want to scold the man this time, she was to busy holding in her laugh.

“h-h-h-how?!”

Kyun smirked and answered: “Sing!”

“Okay.” Oren said with a stern voice. “Let’s stop picking on the mysterious voice.”

Suzuka lead the way as Kyun murmured something like ‘There goes my amusement for the day…’

Everyone was being suspiciously careful about the bodies; apparently everyone had heard of the curse that if you disturb the dead, the dead will attempt to make you join them. But it was particular difficult. The other clothes that had somehow managed to survive thousands of years had holes in them that tried to catch your feet, plus there was very little space to put your feet. Despite this, they had managed to get to the pile of rubble.
Suffice to say, that had proved to be a challenge.

“T-t-t-thank –y-y-you!” The boy cried.

“Yeah yea-“ Oren began but then yelped as he fell, his body falling upon one of the skeletons.

Everyone fell dead silent.

Suzuka felt a chill run down her spine as loud groan made of thousands of people echoed in the massive room. Her senses screamed as lifestream suddenly rushed through the room and loomed there, her stomach became a knot as her skin paled. Beside her, Kyun collapsed onto one knee clutching his stomach as he dropped the Guado’s feet.

“C-cl-climb!” The boy cried, signalling everyone to stop their gawking and run.

Suzuka rushed forward, seeing that Fjls had managed to drag the Guado up the pile of rubble. Her hand grabbed Kyun’s shirt and dragged him to his feet. It seemed whatever had gripped him for that moment vanished as he followed, climbing the pile of rubble just behind her.

”Frak…” Kyun barely managed to say, as it was more of a loud whisper. Suzuka turned, her eyes picked up the red aura of an undead, its hand latched firmly on Kyun’s left ankle.
Reacting more with instinct then trying to save him, her blade skimmed over the odd hume’s head to slice off the zombie’s. The hand immediately let go and the rotting corpse slid down, taking another with it.
Suzuka looked at Kyun who stared back at her, he nodded, a signal of thanks, but his sunglasses had slid down a bit. His right eye was brighter then expected, as she could see it regular eyes could see the damn glow. She blinked, but as he shoved his sunglasses back up, she offered her hand as they continued to climb.

Once everyone was on the pile of rubble, Suzuka finally got to see just how many zombies were in this room.

‘Oh…’ She thought with a gulp. ‘We’re going to die…’

The zombies trudged towards the rubble, their flesh hanging and falling off their bodies…

~ ~ ~ ~

Bwahaha! Congrats, here is your first mission!!

MISSION OBJECTIVE

~Defend Fynaer and Luneth
~Kill MOST of the Monsters (not all)

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Took me long enough. *dies*

Fjls Woodwarder
20. in which one speculates, pointlessly, the blood spatter of zombies
-------------------------

The cumbersome weight against his back shifted continually as Fjls turned and twisted and ducked, scattering lightweight zombie bodies far and wide. He had not the least idea why he was following orders from a disembodied voice that was not the Green Word, except that it was exactly in line with what his survival instinct was currently telling him to do. In the ancestry of the Viera there had been, eons and eons ago, rabbits. Rabbits that had been good at running away before learning to fight back.

Fjls was good at running away, but only in a sense of 'momentary, tactical retreat', before the desire to fight back kicked in.

Beneath him, clouds of dust began to rise from the fallen masonry as he and the others began separating zombie's limbs from the rest of their bodies. Up top, the disembodied voice seemed to belong to a Hume of apparently stunted growth, cowering behind a large, prone body in some sort of attempt to hide. This Hume, as was the one lying supine clutching a rather deadly-looking sword, gave off the same kind of aura that hung about the woman Suzuka, and to some small, hidden extent the warrior Kyun.

At his back Fynaer's elbows began digging into the most vulnerable places they could find. A particularly hard elbow, which turned out to be his summoner's wand upon closer inspection, wedged itself into the small of his back, uncomfortably near the rectum. Even in a dead faint, the Guado managed to be annoying. Fjls growled and set the summoner down roughly next to the unconscious silver-haired warrior, taking a moment to say "Guard this bastard, I'll be just a few minutes" to the Hume shivering in uncontrolled fear before beginning a serious bout of zombie eradication.

If anything, the Viera was not lacking in courage, as he soon showed by charging headlong into the thick of the mob and disemboweling a large number of zombies with his spear with great enthusiasm. It could also be said, by those of more cynical bearing viz. the fainted-away Fynaer, that he was stupidly courageous. In such circumstances, Fjls reasoned, suspicion and caution did not come into play. He was vaguely aware that there were very many zombies in this chamber, and there was a ninety-nine percent chance that they would all die and become zombies themselves.

In such circumstances, you couldn't do much, except to be stupidly courageous and start butchering and hope fervently that it was going to be the one percent chance that you managed to kill all the zombies and live.

[Weasel Overlord]

As Foul Ol' Ron would say... Buggrit buggrem millennium hand an' shrimp. Bugger you all, you lazy bums! I am posting my post! So haha! Showed you... -_-

Fynaer
// - professional prober
-----
It was dark. Dark, but not silent, oh no, never that. Fynaer opened his eyes and blinked twice, muzzily against the velvet blackness which enveloped his vision.

The world had a sort of…old feel to it. As if his life had already been lived once, and was now been pushed through a wringer to eke every last memory from it.

A man. He strode past Fynaer, disregarding his presence almost completely. Simply swerving around his patch of floor, a panicked look on his face as he approached the door at the end of the hall. He clutched his elegant staff like a lifeline as he thrust open the doors with a sigh.

A putrid scent permeated the air, then, and the man inhaled a great breath of it with ne’er a shudder, as he strode purposefully down the spiralling staircase.

No sooner than he was out of sight, a cluster of younger people, clearly Summoner apprentices, hurried over to the door, chattering worried to themselves in low voices.

They stood looking fearfully down the stairs before one, their leader, seemed to come to a decision prompted by a gargling scream which was cut off hurriedly. He closed both of the great doors sharply, throwing across the bar to lock them in place.

Fynaer sensed that there was something horribly wrong about that simple action, but as he raised his head to protest, no sound came from his mouth and the scene before him abruptly changed, leaving him clutching his head with a voiceless moan of pain.

*

This time, there was silence.

A tentative silence, as if the entire temple was listening for something to cease.

And then the bare silence was shattered, and a dread voice rose in laughter from behind those two barred doors.

The laughter filled the temple, and Fynaer heard soft sighs behind him as the apprentices collapsed as one, their bodies crumbling to dust within a second.

His skin crawled at that laughter, for there was nothing human left in it now.

With the hellish voice ringing in his ears, Fynaer’s world spun once more, and then lightened.

*

Another summoner. This time, a female. She steps boldly up to the still-barred doors, throwing them apart with disdain.

Perhaps she has heard of the monstrosities committed in this temple, this holy place.

Fynaer watches anxiously as she disappears from view down the stairs, and then he is inside her vision. Watching as she summons her mighty Aeon; the lord Bahamut, armed with deadly spear he sprang from the ether with a roar.

For, crouched in the corner was the old Summoner man Fynaer remembered from before, though he was changed beyond all recognition.

His skin hung limp and greasy, yet tight with fat and shining an unhealthy blue and scarred, as if it had been torn from his still-beating flesh and devoured by eternally hungry predators.

He got uncertainly to his feet, a maddened grin plastered on his unhealthy face, rising to the challenge issued by Bahamut, the lord of all Aeons.

The mighty dragon roared once more, twirling his long spear in one hand as he leapt towards the Summoner, teeth bared and wings almost fully outstretched.

Fynaer felt Bahamut’s Summoners exultation as the dragon thrust his weapon through the fat throat and up into the brain of his enemy.

But her joy soon changed to panic when the apparition grabbed a hold of Bahamut by a wing and sank in his teeth viciously, regardless of the gushing ochre leaking from his throat.

The dragon roared in pain, and the Summoner lady fled. Bahamut would dismiss himself, Fynaer felt her think, he could look after himself.

*

Fynaer fell back into his own body with a thump and a scream which had all heads turning towards where he lay.

”Cúchulainn!”

He sat up, throat raw from the visceral scream which had just ripped from it, and Fynaer sighed. He was beginning to lose patience with all these damn visions he was having lately. And now this!

The fat thing from his vision, dream, whatever it was, leered at him from the other end of the zombie-strewn hall, Bahamut’s spear still piercing his throat and Fynaer groaned.

“Oh shit!”

-----
As you're all no doubt wondering, I shall explain! Fynaer had a vision of the Maester Cúchulainn before he became an Aeon, that's him, see. And now he is evil. ENTER BOSS BATTLE! ...or something...

[Samchu]

Oren
~~~

You know those days when you just seem to be having that kind of luck? Well, today seemed like one of those days. First, I get stuck in the middle of some ****ed-up desert. I find the financial answer to the rest of my life and it turns out to be explosive. Then, just to cap it off, I get trapped in this run-down excuse of a temple with an army of rotting corpses dragging themselves through the hallway and Gods know what else is behind them.

“Oh shit!”

I looked up. A dragon. Of course, what else would be stood behind an army of zombie? Great. Just absolutely great. "To hell with this." I dug into my pocket. I had one crystal left. One last explosion to try and get some of these freaks out of the way. Hopefully the roof wouldn't collapse this time. "Heads up!" I called to those ahead of me, already fighting back the zombie herd. They withdrew a few paces and I launched the crystal a deep as I could, hoping to splatter as many of the filthy things as I could.

The explosion rocked the hallway, filling the air with its dull roar and the screams of those not able to feel its sting. Bodies crashed against the walls, knocking rubble from the ceiling before they crashed into their bretheren. For all the good it did. Those with their heads still attached continued to worm their way towards us. The legs crawled with the their arms. Those with nothing slithered like snakes across the broken ground.

With nothing left to do, I drew my sword and charged headlong at the oncoming rabble. Some of the others joined me but I was too focused on my own battles to make any mention of the specifics. The battle was a frenzy of cutting and slashing. Arms and legs flew more commonly than flies, splattering the ruins with lifeless blood. The groans of the zombies echoed through the hallway as they fell, one by one, in decapitated piles at our feet. It was a mess. For all the effort and struggle you put in to taking them out, with a head still on their shoulders there was no being rid of them and even then you weren't safe. Their heads...they could still bite for a while and I wasn't one for losing my ankles.

And all the while that dragon was looming overhead. Mocking us. Ah well, we would get to him eventually.