Entry 3:
I'm a dead man. I'm so fucking dead.
I just -had- to take this job. I, boy, was this a mistake.
Okay, get your brain in order Tray, get this down and THINK.
I managed to get a hit for a job through, Frandrin. Someone Frandrin knew needed a smuggler, a good one, for a hells of a job, and Frandrin said it paid REALLY well. Frandrin couldn't take the job due to his issues with some vigilante group breathing down his neck, but set me up for the job. The money from this job could set me up proper with Bleeding Boar.
Should have been red flag number one. If anything is too good to be true, it always is.
Frandrin set up the meeting in Limsa.
Nothing seemed off at first. I met them last night after sundown.
It was a small warehouse in Limsa. Nothing unusual or suspect. They had two guards at the door. Two massive hyurs. Something about them was off, but at the time I didn't put two and two together. I told them who I was and one of the brutes went and got what I have to assume now is the ring leader. He came out a few moments later. He was thinner and more angular than the brutes but he didn't looked pleased at seeing me.Â
He and I talked for a few moments. He had wanted Fandrin -specifically- but I explained to the man that Fandrin had some issues of his own and that he couldn't make the run; but I had been sent specifically by Fandrin and that I was good for the job.
I handed over the letter Frandrin had given me. The hyur read carefully. Thinking back on it now, the letter wasn't in written in Eorzean. That should have been flag two. Flag three should have been Frandrin's admitted Imperial sympathies, but, again, all I was thinking about was gil.
So, at last, the hyur made his decision, though he was clearly still agitated as he held the door open for me.Â
We entered the building. First thing I noticed was how much it smelt like tobacco. The place was almost pungent. Several brazers full of smoldering tabacco leaves sat on a few tables scattered among the large number of crates taht were staked neatly.. Additionally, more tables were covered in all sorts of alchemy equipment with three our four chemists moving between them, studying the gear.
My hyur host led me over to a table with a leather satchel. He picked it up and looked over at me with a grunt before he began speaking with a subdued accent.
"Alright, smuggler, this is your load. You make sure this gets to where it needs to, you'll get your payment and that'll be it. But." He grunted, seeming reluctant to hand it over. "This stuff is somewhat fragile and dangerous. And if you mess this up, Frandrin and you are going to find your heads rolling."
I nodded, putting on a front to seem far more cocky than I felt as I reached out and took the satchel in my right hand.
"Keep your threats. It'll arrive safely." I flashed a smile. The hyur stared for a few minutes longer before he relinquished control of the satchel.Â
I slung it over one shoulder and was about to say something, when there was a sound from outside. And not the good kind.
Well of course the hyur glared at me and it was clear in his eyes he thought I double-crossed him. The other four inside the building immediately went for firearms and started shouting in a foreign dialect.
Then the explosions happened. My back was to the door so I'm not exactly sure what happened. But there was a blinding flash and a shrill nose. My nose stung and my ears rang. All I wanted to do was puke. I tried to stagger away as the hyur was screaming and covering his eyes. Something was happening. Gunshots maybe? I'm not sure. I managed to stagger down a row of crate and duck behind one, my hands over my ears.
There was a fight, though what exactly happened during the minute or so I was recovering from the blast is unknown to me.
Once my nausea and the wretched ringing plaguing my ears finally abated, I drew both of my flintlock pistols and held them tight as I peeked over the top of the crate.
The hyur who had just hired me was clutching a bleeding knee and his crew was either dead of injured. Three figures wearing some sort of leather/metal masks were standing there. One was obviously a female elezen, but the other two were probably hyurs, though could have been miqo'te. It was hard to tell. Their heads were covered by wrapped cloth and they wore long, brown coats.
The elezen was standing by the door while the leader of the attackers approached my recent employer and chuckled behind the metal disk built into the mask over where his mouth and nose would be.
"Well, well, did we ruin your little operation?" the lead attacker snorted. Meanwhile, the third stranger, who was massively broad in the shoulders suddenly shouted through his mask as he slung an axe onto his shoulder.
"Trrray isn't herrre, boss."
The leader in the mask made a grunting noise as aimed a firearm at the hyur who had employed me.
"The red-headed smuggler. You tell me where he is and I'll pretend I never say your little operation. Even as nice and-" the leader lifted his head and looked over at the table. Something he saw made him pause.
The leader then walked over to the workstation and picked up a vile of the blue fluid the alchemists had been working on.
What followed was a string of swears as the leader turned on his heel and stormed over to the wounded hyur.
"This, where did you learn to make this!" the lead attacker shouted behind his mask as he knelt down and shoved the vial in the hyur's vface.
The hyur tried to squirm away from the vial as he gave a pained grunt.
"Thought you wanted the smuggler."
"Yeah that was before I-Shit."
The wounded hyur pulled out something and the next thing I knew the half the warehouse was ablaze. Green flames shot around me and I turned and started running for the far end of the building. There was a lot of screaming and shouting and burning.
I reached the back and, Twelve bless me, there was a sliding door for loading. Granted it was locked but both bullets from my guns ruined the cheap lock and I shoved the sliding door open.
The green flames danced around me, eating through the wooden timbers faster than normal flames. The ocean rolled before me asI threw myself into it's cold embrace and began free stroking for me life.
I didn't swim too long though. I pulled myself onto a dock and made tracks for Costa, where I sit now.
I'm a few drinks in and my nerves are better and my ship will be pulling out on the tide. But, I keep looking at this satchel beside me. I'm not sure who those masked persons were, or what the hell I'm carrying, but I have a -really- unpleasant feeling Frandrin has gotten me involved in something way outta my league. I have a sinking feeling, Frandrin's -business partners- are Garleans and, not only am I running around with something I am clueless about, I obviously have bounty hunters after me who know -exactly- what the hell I'm carrying around.
And worst part is, I have too complete this job. Cause if I don't, I can't be sure I can get Bleeding Boar's gil.
Well diary, I've got Bounty Hunters to the left of me, possible Garleans to my right, and I'm stuck in the middle with you. I'm not drunk enough for this shite.
Cheers.
I'm a dead man. I'm so fucking dead.
I just -had- to take this job. I, boy, was this a mistake.
Okay, get your brain in order Tray, get this down and THINK.
I managed to get a hit for a job through, Frandrin. Someone Frandrin knew needed a smuggler, a good one, for a hells of a job, and Frandrin said it paid REALLY well. Frandrin couldn't take the job due to his issues with some vigilante group breathing down his neck, but set me up for the job. The money from this job could set me up proper with Bleeding Boar.
Should have been red flag number one. If anything is too good to be true, it always is.
Frandrin set up the meeting in Limsa.
Nothing seemed off at first. I met them last night after sundown.
It was a small warehouse in Limsa. Nothing unusual or suspect. They had two guards at the door. Two massive hyurs. Something about them was off, but at the time I didn't put two and two together. I told them who I was and one of the brutes went and got what I have to assume now is the ring leader. He came out a few moments later. He was thinner and more angular than the brutes but he didn't looked pleased at seeing me.Â
He and I talked for a few moments. He had wanted Fandrin -specifically- but I explained to the man that Fandrin had some issues of his own and that he couldn't make the run; but I had been sent specifically by Fandrin and that I was good for the job.
I handed over the letter Frandrin had given me. The hyur read carefully. Thinking back on it now, the letter wasn't in written in Eorzean. That should have been flag two. Flag three should have been Frandrin's admitted Imperial sympathies, but, again, all I was thinking about was gil.
So, at last, the hyur made his decision, though he was clearly still agitated as he held the door open for me.Â
We entered the building. First thing I noticed was how much it smelt like tobacco. The place was almost pungent. Several brazers full of smoldering tabacco leaves sat on a few tables scattered among the large number of crates taht were staked neatly.. Additionally, more tables were covered in all sorts of alchemy equipment with three our four chemists moving between them, studying the gear.
My hyur host led me over to a table with a leather satchel. He picked it up and looked over at me with a grunt before he began speaking with a subdued accent.
"Alright, smuggler, this is your load. You make sure this gets to where it needs to, you'll get your payment and that'll be it. But." He grunted, seeming reluctant to hand it over. "This stuff is somewhat fragile and dangerous. And if you mess this up, Frandrin and you are going to find your heads rolling."
I nodded, putting on a front to seem far more cocky than I felt as I reached out and took the satchel in my right hand.
"Keep your threats. It'll arrive safely." I flashed a smile. The hyur stared for a few minutes longer before he relinquished control of the satchel.Â
I slung it over one shoulder and was about to say something, when there was a sound from outside. And not the good kind.
Well of course the hyur glared at me and it was clear in his eyes he thought I double-crossed him. The other four inside the building immediately went for firearms and started shouting in a foreign dialect.
Then the explosions happened. My back was to the door so I'm not exactly sure what happened. But there was a blinding flash and a shrill nose. My nose stung and my ears rang. All I wanted to do was puke. I tried to stagger away as the hyur was screaming and covering his eyes. Something was happening. Gunshots maybe? I'm not sure. I managed to stagger down a row of crate and duck behind one, my hands over my ears.
There was a fight, though what exactly happened during the minute or so I was recovering from the blast is unknown to me.
Once my nausea and the wretched ringing plaguing my ears finally abated, I drew both of my flintlock pistols and held them tight as I peeked over the top of the crate.
The hyur who had just hired me was clutching a bleeding knee and his crew was either dead of injured. Three figures wearing some sort of leather/metal masks were standing there. One was obviously a female elezen, but the other two were probably hyurs, though could have been miqo'te. It was hard to tell. Their heads were covered by wrapped cloth and they wore long, brown coats.
The elezen was standing by the door while the leader of the attackers approached my recent employer and chuckled behind the metal disk built into the mask over where his mouth and nose would be.
"Well, well, did we ruin your little operation?" the lead attacker snorted. Meanwhile, the third stranger, who was massively broad in the shoulders suddenly shouted through his mask as he slung an axe onto his shoulder.
"Trrray isn't herrre, boss."
The leader in the mask made a grunting noise as aimed a firearm at the hyur who had employed me.
"The red-headed smuggler. You tell me where he is and I'll pretend I never say your little operation. Even as nice and-" the leader lifted his head and looked over at the table. Something he saw made him pause.
The leader then walked over to the workstation and picked up a vile of the blue fluid the alchemists had been working on.
What followed was a string of swears as the leader turned on his heel and stormed over to the wounded hyur.
"This, where did you learn to make this!" the lead attacker shouted behind his mask as he knelt down and shoved the vial in the hyur's vface.
The hyur tried to squirm away from the vial as he gave a pained grunt.
"Thought you wanted the smuggler."
"Yeah that was before I-Shit."
The wounded hyur pulled out something and the next thing I knew the half the warehouse was ablaze. Green flames shot around me and I turned and started running for the far end of the building. There was a lot of screaming and shouting and burning.
I reached the back and, Twelve bless me, there was a sliding door for loading. Granted it was locked but both bullets from my guns ruined the cheap lock and I shoved the sliding door open.
The green flames danced around me, eating through the wooden timbers faster than normal flames. The ocean rolled before me asI threw myself into it's cold embrace and began free stroking for me life.
I didn't swim too long though. I pulled myself onto a dock and made tracks for Costa, where I sit now.
I'm a few drinks in and my nerves are better and my ship will be pulling out on the tide. But, I keep looking at this satchel beside me. I'm not sure who those masked persons were, or what the hell I'm carrying, but I have a -really- unpleasant feeling Frandrin has gotten me involved in something way outta my league. I have a sinking feeling, Frandrin's -business partners- are Garleans and, not only am I running around with something I am clueless about, I obviously have bounty hunters after me who know -exactly- what the hell I'm carrying around.
And worst part is, I have too complete this job. Cause if I don't, I can't be sure I can get Bleeding Boar's gil.
Well diary, I've got Bounty Hunters to the left of me, possible Garleans to my right, and I'm stuck in the middle with you. I'm not drunk enough for this shite.
Cheers.
