The sun shines through the trees and warms his face. It reminds him of the decision he has made. A decision he did not make in haste or takes lightly.
"What are you doing, Silvaire?" The Elezen asks himself. Becoming a Dragoon..." He answers himself in a mocking tone.
He stops, looks around, takes a deep breath and removes his pack from his back. An old lance is strapped to it. He takes a moment to admire it. Nothing fancy, just a simple lance. It's not shiny or ornate, it's old. No one has ever longed for it but it's his. "Becoming a Dragoon." The mocking tone out of his voice now.
It's been a long journey. He turns off the road and walks towards a large tree. The pack is heavy so it goes down first. Silvaire sits with his back against the tree next to his pack. The shade feels good.He remains quiet as someone passes on the road riding a chocobo. Lost in thought for a moment, he figures he's not far from Gridania now. There is nothing there for him except the lancer's guild. The only reason he had to for going there. He wants their training, he needs their training. What they can offer him will be his way to salvation or so he believes. He reaches over and unties the lance's leather bindings. Skill with the weapon is not unknown to him but he can't use it they way they do. The way Dragoons can. He clutches the lance to his chest and closes his eyes. Will they welcome him? How will the people be? Can he make the adjustment to life in the city? "Keep an open mind, Silvaire." A familiar voice in his mind tells him. "Keep an open mind..."
"NOOO! Get away!" A girls voice shrieks.
Silvaire's eyes are yanked open by the sound. He pulls his feet under himself and takes a crouching position. The Elezen listens. Their feet crashing into the ground, moving leaves and crushing underbrush allows him to adjust so not to be seen by the approaching interuption to his nap.
"Stop her!" A fat Hyur man screams as he has no chance of catching her himself.
Silvaire watches the group as they get closer to him. "I have nothing!" A frantic Miqo'te pleads. She is wearing a long coat and what appears to him as an extremely large hat.
There are two other men chasing her down. The closest one to her is a small framed man wielding a dagger. He's fast and agile. "He will catch her." Silvaire mutters under his breath. Another man is not far behind carrying a lance. His weapon slows him down enough so he could not catch her. "Doesn't look like either of them have much training."
The Miqo'te dodges a tree, jumps a rock and almost loses her footing. They are catching up to her and getting closer to the Elezen. "Come on girl. Move faster." He orders as though he's right next to her. Not getting involved would be ideal but not probable. He looks around to see if anyone is coming from another direction. Hoping there is someone else who will rescue the girl. This is not what he had intended this day to bring him. No one, no one other than him. It will have to be him. His attention is brought back to the girl.
"Aa...unh!" It's the only sound she makes before the thud of her body hitting the ground. Her hat sails through the air and lands about the length of his lance from him. Silvaire takes an instant to notice the size of the hat. He will have to find out if everyone wears such large hats in the city.
The agile man lands on her, driving his knee into her back. He lifts her face off the ground by her black hair. "I think I hit her too hard." They chuckle as he speaks.
"Check her for gil and anything else of value." The fat man orders. He must be the one with authority. Why else would they listen to him. "You!" He points a chubby finger at the one with the lance. "Watch for anyone coming."
"Seven! Seven gil and nothing else." By this time Silvaire has figured out that the man are just bandits. There is no other reason for them to be doing this other than the want for what she has and they don't. The Elezen understands this well. Are they doing what they need to for survival? If they take the small amount of gil and go then is that okay? If they hadn't harmed her things would be different.
"Her clothes look fancy." The portly man smiles. "Take those." They laugh almost in unison as he says it. The agile man starts tugging at her coat.
Silvaire snaps to his feet and tightens the grip on his lance! "I guess it starts now."
He steps out from behind the tree and immediately has all their attention. Their faces give away that the last thing they were expecting was a Duskwight to interupt their crime.
"Get away from her." Silvaire's voice is stern and demanding. "Unless you are so eager to die."
To be continued!
"What are you doing, Silvaire?" The Elezen asks himself. Becoming a Dragoon..." He answers himself in a mocking tone.
He stops, looks around, takes a deep breath and removes his pack from his back. An old lance is strapped to it. He takes a moment to admire it. Nothing fancy, just a simple lance. It's not shiny or ornate, it's old. No one has ever longed for it but it's his. "Becoming a Dragoon." The mocking tone out of his voice now.
It's been a long journey. He turns off the road and walks towards a large tree. The pack is heavy so it goes down first. Silvaire sits with his back against the tree next to his pack. The shade feels good.He remains quiet as someone passes on the road riding a chocobo. Lost in thought for a moment, he figures he's not far from Gridania now. There is nothing there for him except the lancer's guild. The only reason he had to for going there. He wants their training, he needs their training. What they can offer him will be his way to salvation or so he believes. He reaches over and unties the lance's leather bindings. Skill with the weapon is not unknown to him but he can't use it they way they do. The way Dragoons can. He clutches the lance to his chest and closes his eyes. Will they welcome him? How will the people be? Can he make the adjustment to life in the city? "Keep an open mind, Silvaire." A familiar voice in his mind tells him. "Keep an open mind..."
"NOOO! Get away!" A girls voice shrieks.
Silvaire's eyes are yanked open by the sound. He pulls his feet under himself and takes a crouching position. The Elezen listens. Their feet crashing into the ground, moving leaves and crushing underbrush allows him to adjust so not to be seen by the approaching interuption to his nap.
"Stop her!" A fat Hyur man screams as he has no chance of catching her himself.
Silvaire watches the group as they get closer to him. "I have nothing!" A frantic Miqo'te pleads. She is wearing a long coat and what appears to him as an extremely large hat.
There are two other men chasing her down. The closest one to her is a small framed man wielding a dagger. He's fast and agile. "He will catch her." Silvaire mutters under his breath. Another man is not far behind carrying a lance. His weapon slows him down enough so he could not catch her. "Doesn't look like either of them have much training."
The Miqo'te dodges a tree, jumps a rock and almost loses her footing. They are catching up to her and getting closer to the Elezen. "Come on girl. Move faster." He orders as though he's right next to her. Not getting involved would be ideal but not probable. He looks around to see if anyone is coming from another direction. Hoping there is someone else who will rescue the girl. This is not what he had intended this day to bring him. No one, no one other than him. It will have to be him. His attention is brought back to the girl.
"Aa...unh!" It's the only sound she makes before the thud of her body hitting the ground. Her hat sails through the air and lands about the length of his lance from him. Silvaire takes an instant to notice the size of the hat. He will have to find out if everyone wears such large hats in the city.
The agile man lands on her, driving his knee into her back. He lifts her face off the ground by her black hair. "I think I hit her too hard." They chuckle as he speaks.
"Check her for gil and anything else of value." The fat man orders. He must be the one with authority. Why else would they listen to him. "You!" He points a chubby finger at the one with the lance. "Watch for anyone coming."
"Seven! Seven gil and nothing else." By this time Silvaire has figured out that the man are just bandits. There is no other reason for them to be doing this other than the want for what she has and they don't. The Elezen understands this well. Are they doing what they need to for survival? If they take the small amount of gil and go then is that okay? If they hadn't harmed her things would be different.
"Her clothes look fancy." The portly man smiles. "Take those." They laugh almost in unison as he says it. The agile man starts tugging at her coat.
Silvaire snaps to his feet and tightens the grip on his lance! "I guess it starts now."
He steps out from behind the tree and immediately has all their attention. Their faces give away that the last thing they were expecting was a Duskwight to interupt their crime.
"Get away from her." Silvaire's voice is stern and demanding. "Unless you are so eager to die."
To be continued!
