"There are always alternatives. You simply chose the quickest way."
Strong legs broke into a jog not long after rounding the corner away from Qion'a, and the Keeper's voice followed the man who called himself Thal like a raptor nipping at the heels of a warthog. At least he was honest, the miqo'te thought, as the path curved a few times but did not demonstrate any of its earlier maze-likeness. It wasn't long before fresh air reached his nose, and a short time after that, as he came around another curve in the tunnel, he spotted the bright light of the entrance.
He picked up is pace until he was running at full tilt and practically burst from the cave with a wordless declaration of triumph before skidding to a stop several malms out. Dust kicked up from his actions, and it occurred to the masked man then just how far he had traveled with the strange hermit. The marshes of the South Shroud were not far, but already the soil had dried significantly and vegetation had thinned and changed. Even the air smelled different - cleaner. Clearer. Strangely comforting.
Pushing mud-caked toes into ground, the man straightened, set his hands on his hips, and craned his neck around back towards the cave. The mouth was a black hole cut cleanly into the side of a mountain the likes of which he had never seen before. He looked up and saw mostly sky, bright, cloudless blue fading to darker hues on the horizon as evening approached.
He'd left the Shroud, he thought again, this time with some measure of surprise.
Not wanting to linger so near the cave, on the off chance Qion'a or that other brother might follow him out with more attempts to convince him to stay, the masked man began to walk. But he did so aimlessly, setting off in a direction more east than north. His tail swung in broad, slow arcs behind him, strangely content despite the uncomfortable confrontations from only a short while ago. He breathed in again, filled his lungs with the sharp air of the place until his ribs hurt. The rot and headiness of the South Shroud still lingered, but it was faint, and he was certain that if he went further south it would fade completely.
Well, that was not something he had ever considered  before.
The strangeness of these thoughts made him stop. Almost absently one gloved hand reached up to his face, rested over the front of the mask. It sat there for a time while his ears twitched, his tongue tasted the air, and then he pushed the wooden mask up from his face, over his forehead until it dropped to the ground behind him.
He stood blinking blue eyes in the brightness of late afternoon for a time, almost overwhelmed by the way his senses opened up without the mask muffling him. He wiped at sweat that had built up on his face, shook his head, and then laughed. Loud and long. A bird in a nearby tree gave a startled squawk and took off.
It took some minutes to come back to himself. When he did, he turned back to the mask, red ears tilted in consideration, before snatching it back up, though he only held it in one hand loosely. The other rubbed at the rough hair along his jaw in thought.
Well, it couldn't hurt to explore a little bit, right?
"Come all the way out here," he mused to no one in particular. "May as well get some fresh air." Shrugging, he began to walk again, swinging his arms as bare feet crunched through sparse undergrowth, ears swiveling to take in the sounds of a new land. He kept his eyes mostly on the sky and, indirectly, the sun. It felt really good to see that.
It wouldn't be long before he saw that there was a road to the south, with even more mountains and cliffs behind it. A single man travelled the road, dressed in white and pink garments, followed closely by a chocobo loaded with an assortment of bags and trinkets.
Even farther, behind the mountains, the Burning Wall could be seen, towering above like a crumbling castle. The giant crystalline formation shone dimly, its shine still not enough at that time of the day to outplay that of the sun.Â
There were no signs of Qion'a or his brother. Their cave was out of sight already, too.
As he walked, he nudged a large pebble along with his feet - knocking it away in front of him, then catching up to it only to knock it away again. He did this idly as he looked around. When he caught sight of the traveler, the road still some distance away, he grinned a bit at the man's garments. The way they billowed in the occasional breeze made him look like some sort of floating tent. He wondered what people traded in outside the Shroud. Gridania was so insular that it was only very rarely that merchants from beyond the forest's walls made it to the markets. Not having any money, he'd of course never bought anything, but he'd sometimes entertain the idea of handing off some foreign trinket to a pretty lady.
"Hey, stranger!" The miqo'te, no longer masked, lifted both tanned, dirty arms and waved them broadly. He bounced a bit as he picked up his pace, angling more directly towards the road.
The stranger turned his head to look at him without stopping his walk. His face was almost completely wrapped on white fabric. He raised one hand in greeting, kept it on the air for a moment, and then dropped it again without saying a word.Â
The chocobo behind him did not greet anyone, the unpolite jerk.
The miqo'te wasn't deterred by the rude chocobo, though he did slow a bit at the passive greeting from the merchant. He kept on though, feeling invigorated by the open sky and clear air in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. Perhaps it was just the contrast from escaping that cave, but he was going to enjoy it.
"Hey there!" He called again as he got nearer, pausing at the edge of the road and letting the merchant's own pace close the distance between them. The sharp angles of his face broadened into a grin, an expression that wrinkled a long, thin scar running through one eye. The old wound hadn't seemed to disrupt his vision, though. "Nice day huh? Where you coming from?"
"Highbridge." the man answered with a voice that was too close to Qion'a to be an unhappy coincidence. Or maybe it was just all the fabric covering his mouth.
He continued walking, getting closer and not displaying much interest at Thal. Instead, he turned his head to look around, as if he was expecting him to be a bandit with bandit friends. When he saw no one else, he spoke again. "I suppose it is a nice day, yes."
"Highbridge." He tapped his chin. "Not exactly the most creative name. I'm gonna guess it has a bridge. And it's up high. Huh?" He laughed probably a bit obnoxiously at his own joke. Spreading out his arms, the Seeker gestured at the burdened chocobo. "To Gridania, I'm guessing? Hope you're ready for lots of inspections." The natives of the Shroud were rather defensive towards what entered their realm.
"I won't go that far into the Shroud." the merchant ventured, still unsure if Thal was a bandit in search of targets or not. The man stood still once he was at what must have been a proper talking distance for Ul'dahn standards.Â
"What about you? You seem to travel a bit too lightly if you come from the Padjal city."
"Huh?" The miqo'te had bent to one side, eyeballing the chocobo and its cargo curiously as the other man spoke. After a moment he straightened and rubbed at the back of his neck with a chuckle. "Ah, well, not directly from there. Heh. Just getting some fresh air! I mean, /smell/ that." As though in demonstration, he pulled in a long, loud breath through his nose, stretching to the tips of his toes.
The cargo on the bird was difficult to appraise. Most of it was covered in linen, tied up neatly in packages of differing sizes. The only two things that stood out were a bag resting on top of everything filled with pumpkins, and a round metal shield ornamented with golden and silver trims on the edge. The chocobo stomped it's feet against the road, as if it was in some sort of hurry. Considering that it was loaded in goods, he probably was.
"Enjoy it while you can." the man said. "The closest you get to Ul'dah, the stench of the sick and the mad because of the war will fill your nostrils." He paused to chuckle shortly. "It will be quite an experience, for sure."
"Ul'dah? I think that's kind of far, isn't it? Hadn't really planned on... well." He shrugged, clasped gloved hands behind his back. Blue eyes lingered on the pumpkins.
"I wager you are not the kind of man that plans his journeys."
"Hah!" The hands behind his back moved up to weave behind his head, and he swayed in a casual gesture. "Don't usually have to. Something, something, blah blah about Oschon, or whatever. At least that's what a friend would tell me. Probably not the case for you merchants though."
There was another chuckle. "Oschon shows you the shop, and Nald'thal the prices." he said. "Why do you think I'm a merchant? Am I dressed too expensively? Maybe I'm just a wealthy hermit, bringing supplies to his family."
"Uh, I guess. I'm no expert! Guess that means these aren't for sale, huh?" He nodded at the pumpkins.
The white merchant turned his head, looking behind him so that the pumpkin bag was in his sight. Then he looked at Thal again, tilting his head slightly. "I am sorry, but I can also wager that you are not carrying much gil with you."
"Eheheh," the miqo'te grinned a bit cheekily and, as though acquiescing, took a couple steps back from the chocobo and the maybe-maybe-not merchant. His tail swung slowly, the fluffy tip of it brushing through the dirt. "Guess I'll just leave ya to it then."
The merchant chuckled again, dropping his head. The wind blew from the north, bringing with it a strong stench of rotting meat and old clothes. Then it blew again, in another direction, and the smell was gone.
"I'm sorry. A little charity would not hurt." the white man said. "You can take one from the bag if you so wish. We'll call it 'Ul'dahn generosity' this one time." he added, opening his arms widely.
The man's features twitched at the sudden waft of unpleasant aromas, but he shook his head as it passed. He wondered how far he'd have to go before the Shroud's smells disappeared.
"Well that's awfully nice of ya. Ul'dahn generosity, huh? Can't be that bad of a place then." The miqo'te shuffled back towards the chocobo, the bird stirring uncomfortably when he came near. Reaching up, he pulled the edge of the bag down and blindly grabbed for a pumpking. He had to bounce away quickly when the chocobo craned its neck back to snap at him.
The man pulled from the chocobo's reins and wrapped one arm around its beak to keep it calm. "Seems like my bird does not like you. I apologize."
"No worries. I'm used to it!" The miqo'te waved it off with the hand that still held the mask. In the other he balanced the pumpkin and bounced it a couple times, testing its weight. "Never seen these before. They grow in Ul'dah?"
The man only had time to nod once and say one word before the conversation was interrupted by the sound of aether building up close to them. It did not last long, and soon the aether was loudly released, a bolt of cold air travelling quickly towards Thal's legs.
The Seeker felt the shift of aether in his bones before the spell fully coalesced, but he didn't understand what he was sensing until the icy chill bore down on him. He let out a squawk of surprise and jumped back mostly on instinct, dropping both the mask and the pumpkin. Cold air snapped about his feet, leaving frost clinging with a sharp pain to his skin, but the bulk of the attack crashed uselessly against the ground, freezing the dirt solid on impact. The man stumbled, legs stunned by the cold, and brought his arms up into a defensive posture. "The hell--?" His ears twitched as he sought out the source of the spell.
Qion'li's blue robes stood out against the brown cliffs behind Thal like a puddle of very bright water. His torso was bent to a side, his arm extended behind him as he prepared his next spell. He was not alone. Two men covered from head to toe with what looked like very heavy armor, no skin or features showing, were with him. Yet despite the weight, they moved breezly, if somewhat erraticaly, towards Thal.
The merchant just stood there, holding his chocobo in place, looking surprised at the scene playing in front of him.
Looking left to right, the miqo'te's ears twitched, picking up the sounds of the approaching men. He spun around and then backpedalled at the sight before visibly puffing up like an agitated animal. He scrambled, putting the chocobo between himself and the attackers, and then dropped into a defensive crouch. His eyes caught on Qion'li's figure for a split second before his attention was forced back to the two men as they neared at a pace faster than what would seem natural.
The men would have continued and smashed themselves against the chocobo if it weren't for the merchant who urged the beast to move out of the way with a swift whistle. The beast wasn't quick enough, though, and let out a loud complain as one of them did actually smash himself against it, falling on top of it while the bird was knocked on its side.Â
The other man lunged at Thal with both arms extended at him.
The miqo'te reacted without thinking, throwing his own arms out to catch the two coming towards him, broadening his stance and loosening his joints to absorb the impact. He grunted as the man collided with him, stumbled a few steps back, but gripped the attacker's hands solidly in his own. With that leverage, he tried to turn and "throw" the man off, taking advantage of the stranger's already forward momentum.
The man was thrown off to a side successfully, his head smashing against the ground, jerking backwards at an odd angle. He was extremely light, despite his bulky armor.
The blue robed man, off in the distance, released another spell with one strong swing of his arm. Blue light covered him briefly before the aether was shot out towards Thal again, chilling the air on its way.
Turning from the creature he had tossed away - it could not actually be a man, judging by how it moved and felt, the miqo'te decided - he directed his attention to the second black attacker who struggled to free himself from the flailing chocobo. It was this minor miscalculation of risk that cost him, however, for when he felt the rippling of aether across his skin, he had only the time to take a step back before the spell hit.
Ice burst around one leg, the cold a shock enough that he didn't immediately notice any associated pain, and froze one foot to the ground. The other limb tried to move back away from the attack, but it just resulted in an awkward stumble that took the miqo'te nowhere. Wide eyes glared up at the blue robed figure, then over to the merchant who still stood passively off to one side. "You gonna help or what?" He called out. "Surely ya know how to defend yourself!" As he spoke, his hands grabbed at the ice. The aether charging the spell shivered at his touch.
The merchant had taken a book with brass covers from withing his clothes. It laid open against his left hand, with the other open a few ilms above its pages. "Yes. I suggest you do not move, though." he said very calmly.Â
Qion'li smirked and let loose yet another chilly spell at the immobilized Thal.
Practically hissing at the merchant in annoyance, the man named Thal forced his attention back to his frozen leg. He could feel the aether running through the ice. If he just...
His fingertips chilled very suddenly, and he jerked his hands away as what felt like ice shot through the muscles of his arms. The spell holding his leg in place cracked, though, and then shattered, and he stumbled back--
--in time to take the new spell solidly in the chest. As ice blossomed against his skin, the force of it knocked the Seeker on his back, and the chill spread to pin him to the ground. Letting out a sharp curse, he kicked his legs a moment and then brought his hands, still stinging from moments before, to his chest.
The merchant finally did something: a surge of aether burst out from its book, spreading it everywhere around them in purple light. After a moment, the excess aether collapses upon Thal's arms and legs, forming a circle of light around them, pinning him down with great force.
The 'man' that had crashed against the cargo bird finally stood up and stayed there, gazing into the horizon as if he had forgotten what was going on. It shook its head and then its whole body, in tandeem with the other one and with a movement of hands from the blue robed Miqo'te. Then he looked at Thal, still looking confused.
The miqo’te grunted, gritting his teeth as his limbs slammed down against the dirt. Straining his neck, he lifted his head up, pulling his shoulders off the ground as much as he could manage to try and get a look at the attackers. "This what I get for trying to take one of your pumpkins?" He called out to the white-robed man. "I should remind ya you offered it to me!"
The vibrations of the aether around him hummed deafeningly in his ears and buzzed with a strange heat against his skin. Unable to physically touch the spells, he tried a last ditch effort to reach with his whole body, feeling the aether as though it were a part of him. The binds flickered, though didn't immediately release.
"Bind his damn limbs, you useless corpses!" Qion'li shouted. The two not-really heavily armored men quickly answered to the order and moved towards Thal. Without a warning, they threw themselves on top of him, taking a firm hold of his limbs. Â
The merchant huffed, extending his arms away from himself in exasperation at Qion'li. "Care to explain me what under the Sultana's skirt is going on?" he asked.Â
"Later!" was the answer. "The king, that is myself, demands this creature to be put under the care of my kingdom. We'll bring him there, bind him properly in a nice little room all for itself and only then I will explain."
"Fine. Whatever. But you owe me a chocobo."
"What--you again? I thought I told ya--" The miqo'te named Thal went limp for a few seconds as the two, dark man-creatures fell upon him, their light but unnaturally strong hand joining the aether bonds about his limbs. Then he sucked in a breath, felt the spell about his legs flicker away as the aether that composed it ran like fire through his calves, and bent his knees to kick upward. He managed to clilp one of the assailants in the hip.
The man twisted to the side at the force of the impact, and let out sickly, dim whimper at it. It answered back by curling his hand into a fist and hitting Thal with it on the stomach. Despite him wearing a gauntlet, the attack felt as if it had been done with a naked hand. The other one struggled to keep the miqo'te from moving.
Qion'li crossed his arms and smiled a few feet away. "Now, my dear god of the dead..." he started, which brought upon him the confused gaze of the merchant. "You can keep kicking and fighting or you can come peacefully...oh, who am I kidding?" he finished with a laugh. "You had your chance to be a guest." He raised his staff above him, charging it with aether.
The miqo'te's spine curled at the blow to his stomach, but the urgency of the moment gave him more than enough adrenaline to ignore the resounding ache. He kicked out again, this time managing a much more direct hit thanks to the opening the shadowed man's attack had given him. Muscles honed from years of traveling the Shroud drove his feet right into the attacker's pelvis with enough strength to knock it back. The moment he felt its hands fall away from his right arm, he was twisting to the opposite side, pushing at the other one.
That one looked at Thal. Without a direct order from Qion'li, he did not know what to do.Â
No order ever came, but Qion'li's new spell hit them both, covering them in a second of white light. The armored man's limbs loosened. His whole body did. He fell on his back like a bag of pumpkins and stayed there. The other one was also hit by the spell as he tried to stood up. He never did, instead staying down as if dead.
The miqo'te who called himself Thal had enough time to noticed his limbs were suddenly free before the white light hit him as well. The effect was nearly instantaneous, the energy fleeing from his body, followed only a split second later by his consciousness. The man fell back to the ground, limp and silent and surrounded by the hum of aether.
Strong legs broke into a jog not long after rounding the corner away from Qion'a, and the Keeper's voice followed the man who called himself Thal like a raptor nipping at the heels of a warthog. At least he was honest, the miqo'te thought, as the path curved a few times but did not demonstrate any of its earlier maze-likeness. It wasn't long before fresh air reached his nose, and a short time after that, as he came around another curve in the tunnel, he spotted the bright light of the entrance.
He picked up is pace until he was running at full tilt and practically burst from the cave with a wordless declaration of triumph before skidding to a stop several malms out. Dust kicked up from his actions, and it occurred to the masked man then just how far he had traveled with the strange hermit. The marshes of the South Shroud were not far, but already the soil had dried significantly and vegetation had thinned and changed. Even the air smelled different - cleaner. Clearer. Strangely comforting.
Pushing mud-caked toes into ground, the man straightened, set his hands on his hips, and craned his neck around back towards the cave. The mouth was a black hole cut cleanly into the side of a mountain the likes of which he had never seen before. He looked up and saw mostly sky, bright, cloudless blue fading to darker hues on the horizon as evening approached.
He'd left the Shroud, he thought again, this time with some measure of surprise.
Not wanting to linger so near the cave, on the off chance Qion'a or that other brother might follow him out with more attempts to convince him to stay, the masked man began to walk. But he did so aimlessly, setting off in a direction more east than north. His tail swung in broad, slow arcs behind him, strangely content despite the uncomfortable confrontations from only a short while ago. He breathed in again, filled his lungs with the sharp air of the place until his ribs hurt. The rot and headiness of the South Shroud still lingered, but it was faint, and he was certain that if he went further south it would fade completely.
Well, that was not something he had ever considered  before.
The strangeness of these thoughts made him stop. Almost absently one gloved hand reached up to his face, rested over the front of the mask. It sat there for a time while his ears twitched, his tongue tasted the air, and then he pushed the wooden mask up from his face, over his forehead until it dropped to the ground behind him.
He stood blinking blue eyes in the brightness of late afternoon for a time, almost overwhelmed by the way his senses opened up without the mask muffling him. He wiped at sweat that had built up on his face, shook his head, and then laughed. Loud and long. A bird in a nearby tree gave a startled squawk and took off.
It took some minutes to come back to himself. When he did, he turned back to the mask, red ears tilted in consideration, before snatching it back up, though he only held it in one hand loosely. The other rubbed at the rough hair along his jaw in thought.
Well, it couldn't hurt to explore a little bit, right?
"Come all the way out here," he mused to no one in particular. "May as well get some fresh air." Shrugging, he began to walk again, swinging his arms as bare feet crunched through sparse undergrowth, ears swiveling to take in the sounds of a new land. He kept his eyes mostly on the sky and, indirectly, the sun. It felt really good to see that.
It wouldn't be long before he saw that there was a road to the south, with even more mountains and cliffs behind it. A single man travelled the road, dressed in white and pink garments, followed closely by a chocobo loaded with an assortment of bags and trinkets.
Even farther, behind the mountains, the Burning Wall could be seen, towering above like a crumbling castle. The giant crystalline formation shone dimly, its shine still not enough at that time of the day to outplay that of the sun.Â
There were no signs of Qion'a or his brother. Their cave was out of sight already, too.
As he walked, he nudged a large pebble along with his feet - knocking it away in front of him, then catching up to it only to knock it away again. He did this idly as he looked around. When he caught sight of the traveler, the road still some distance away, he grinned a bit at the man's garments. The way they billowed in the occasional breeze made him look like some sort of floating tent. He wondered what people traded in outside the Shroud. Gridania was so insular that it was only very rarely that merchants from beyond the forest's walls made it to the markets. Not having any money, he'd of course never bought anything, but he'd sometimes entertain the idea of handing off some foreign trinket to a pretty lady.
"Hey, stranger!" The miqo'te, no longer masked, lifted both tanned, dirty arms and waved them broadly. He bounced a bit as he picked up his pace, angling more directly towards the road.
The stranger turned his head to look at him without stopping his walk. His face was almost completely wrapped on white fabric. He raised one hand in greeting, kept it on the air for a moment, and then dropped it again without saying a word.Â
The chocobo behind him did not greet anyone, the unpolite jerk.
The miqo'te wasn't deterred by the rude chocobo, though he did slow a bit at the passive greeting from the merchant. He kept on though, feeling invigorated by the open sky and clear air in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before. Perhaps it was just the contrast from escaping that cave, but he was going to enjoy it.
"Hey there!" He called again as he got nearer, pausing at the edge of the road and letting the merchant's own pace close the distance between them. The sharp angles of his face broadened into a grin, an expression that wrinkled a long, thin scar running through one eye. The old wound hadn't seemed to disrupt his vision, though. "Nice day huh? Where you coming from?"
"Highbridge." the man answered with a voice that was too close to Qion'a to be an unhappy coincidence. Or maybe it was just all the fabric covering his mouth.
He continued walking, getting closer and not displaying much interest at Thal. Instead, he turned his head to look around, as if he was expecting him to be a bandit with bandit friends. When he saw no one else, he spoke again. "I suppose it is a nice day, yes."
"Highbridge." He tapped his chin. "Not exactly the most creative name. I'm gonna guess it has a bridge. And it's up high. Huh?" He laughed probably a bit obnoxiously at his own joke. Spreading out his arms, the Seeker gestured at the burdened chocobo. "To Gridania, I'm guessing? Hope you're ready for lots of inspections." The natives of the Shroud were rather defensive towards what entered their realm.
"I won't go that far into the Shroud." the merchant ventured, still unsure if Thal was a bandit in search of targets or not. The man stood still once he was at what must have been a proper talking distance for Ul'dahn standards.Â
"What about you? You seem to travel a bit too lightly if you come from the Padjal city."
"Huh?" The miqo'te had bent to one side, eyeballing the chocobo and its cargo curiously as the other man spoke. After a moment he straightened and rubbed at the back of his neck with a chuckle. "Ah, well, not directly from there. Heh. Just getting some fresh air! I mean, /smell/ that." As though in demonstration, he pulled in a long, loud breath through his nose, stretching to the tips of his toes.
The cargo on the bird was difficult to appraise. Most of it was covered in linen, tied up neatly in packages of differing sizes. The only two things that stood out were a bag resting on top of everything filled with pumpkins, and a round metal shield ornamented with golden and silver trims on the edge. The chocobo stomped it's feet against the road, as if it was in some sort of hurry. Considering that it was loaded in goods, he probably was.
"Enjoy it while you can." the man said. "The closest you get to Ul'dah, the stench of the sick and the mad because of the war will fill your nostrils." He paused to chuckle shortly. "It will be quite an experience, for sure."
"Ul'dah? I think that's kind of far, isn't it? Hadn't really planned on... well." He shrugged, clasped gloved hands behind his back. Blue eyes lingered on the pumpkins.
"I wager you are not the kind of man that plans his journeys."
"Hah!" The hands behind his back moved up to weave behind his head, and he swayed in a casual gesture. "Don't usually have to. Something, something, blah blah about Oschon, or whatever. At least that's what a friend would tell me. Probably not the case for you merchants though."
There was another chuckle. "Oschon shows you the shop, and Nald'thal the prices." he said. "Why do you think I'm a merchant? Am I dressed too expensively? Maybe I'm just a wealthy hermit, bringing supplies to his family."
"Uh, I guess. I'm no expert! Guess that means these aren't for sale, huh?" He nodded at the pumpkins.
The white merchant turned his head, looking behind him so that the pumpkin bag was in his sight. Then he looked at Thal again, tilting his head slightly. "I am sorry, but I can also wager that you are not carrying much gil with you."
"Eheheh," the miqo'te grinned a bit cheekily and, as though acquiescing, took a couple steps back from the chocobo and the maybe-maybe-not merchant. His tail swung slowly, the fluffy tip of it brushing through the dirt. "Guess I'll just leave ya to it then."
The merchant chuckled again, dropping his head. The wind blew from the north, bringing with it a strong stench of rotting meat and old clothes. Then it blew again, in another direction, and the smell was gone.
"I'm sorry. A little charity would not hurt." the white man said. "You can take one from the bag if you so wish. We'll call it 'Ul'dahn generosity' this one time." he added, opening his arms widely.
The man's features twitched at the sudden waft of unpleasant aromas, but he shook his head as it passed. He wondered how far he'd have to go before the Shroud's smells disappeared.
"Well that's awfully nice of ya. Ul'dahn generosity, huh? Can't be that bad of a place then." The miqo'te shuffled back towards the chocobo, the bird stirring uncomfortably when he came near. Reaching up, he pulled the edge of the bag down and blindly grabbed for a pumpking. He had to bounce away quickly when the chocobo craned its neck back to snap at him.
The man pulled from the chocobo's reins and wrapped one arm around its beak to keep it calm. "Seems like my bird does not like you. I apologize."
"No worries. I'm used to it!" The miqo'te waved it off with the hand that still held the mask. In the other he balanced the pumpkin and bounced it a couple times, testing its weight. "Never seen these before. They grow in Ul'dah?"
The man only had time to nod once and say one word before the conversation was interrupted by the sound of aether building up close to them. It did not last long, and soon the aether was loudly released, a bolt of cold air travelling quickly towards Thal's legs.
The Seeker felt the shift of aether in his bones before the spell fully coalesced, but he didn't understand what he was sensing until the icy chill bore down on him. He let out a squawk of surprise and jumped back mostly on instinct, dropping both the mask and the pumpkin. Cold air snapped about his feet, leaving frost clinging with a sharp pain to his skin, but the bulk of the attack crashed uselessly against the ground, freezing the dirt solid on impact. The man stumbled, legs stunned by the cold, and brought his arms up into a defensive posture. "The hell--?" His ears twitched as he sought out the source of the spell.
Qion'li's blue robes stood out against the brown cliffs behind Thal like a puddle of very bright water. His torso was bent to a side, his arm extended behind him as he prepared his next spell. He was not alone. Two men covered from head to toe with what looked like very heavy armor, no skin or features showing, were with him. Yet despite the weight, they moved breezly, if somewhat erraticaly, towards Thal.
The merchant just stood there, holding his chocobo in place, looking surprised at the scene playing in front of him.
Looking left to right, the miqo'te's ears twitched, picking up the sounds of the approaching men. He spun around and then backpedalled at the sight before visibly puffing up like an agitated animal. He scrambled, putting the chocobo between himself and the attackers, and then dropped into a defensive crouch. His eyes caught on Qion'li's figure for a split second before his attention was forced back to the two men as they neared at a pace faster than what would seem natural.
The men would have continued and smashed themselves against the chocobo if it weren't for the merchant who urged the beast to move out of the way with a swift whistle. The beast wasn't quick enough, though, and let out a loud complain as one of them did actually smash himself against it, falling on top of it while the bird was knocked on its side.Â
The other man lunged at Thal with both arms extended at him.
The miqo'te reacted without thinking, throwing his own arms out to catch the two coming towards him, broadening his stance and loosening his joints to absorb the impact. He grunted as the man collided with him, stumbled a few steps back, but gripped the attacker's hands solidly in his own. With that leverage, he tried to turn and "throw" the man off, taking advantage of the stranger's already forward momentum.
The man was thrown off to a side successfully, his head smashing against the ground, jerking backwards at an odd angle. He was extremely light, despite his bulky armor.
The blue robed man, off in the distance, released another spell with one strong swing of his arm. Blue light covered him briefly before the aether was shot out towards Thal again, chilling the air on its way.
Turning from the creature he had tossed away - it could not actually be a man, judging by how it moved and felt, the miqo'te decided - he directed his attention to the second black attacker who struggled to free himself from the flailing chocobo. It was this minor miscalculation of risk that cost him, however, for when he felt the rippling of aether across his skin, he had only the time to take a step back before the spell hit.
Ice burst around one leg, the cold a shock enough that he didn't immediately notice any associated pain, and froze one foot to the ground. The other limb tried to move back away from the attack, but it just resulted in an awkward stumble that took the miqo'te nowhere. Wide eyes glared up at the blue robed figure, then over to the merchant who still stood passively off to one side. "You gonna help or what?" He called out. "Surely ya know how to defend yourself!" As he spoke, his hands grabbed at the ice. The aether charging the spell shivered at his touch.
The merchant had taken a book with brass covers from withing his clothes. It laid open against his left hand, with the other open a few ilms above its pages. "Yes. I suggest you do not move, though." he said very calmly.Â
Qion'li smirked and let loose yet another chilly spell at the immobilized Thal.
Practically hissing at the merchant in annoyance, the man named Thal forced his attention back to his frozen leg. He could feel the aether running through the ice. If he just...
His fingertips chilled very suddenly, and he jerked his hands away as what felt like ice shot through the muscles of his arms. The spell holding his leg in place cracked, though, and then shattered, and he stumbled back--
--in time to take the new spell solidly in the chest. As ice blossomed against his skin, the force of it knocked the Seeker on his back, and the chill spread to pin him to the ground. Letting out a sharp curse, he kicked his legs a moment and then brought his hands, still stinging from moments before, to his chest.
The merchant finally did something: a surge of aether burst out from its book, spreading it everywhere around them in purple light. After a moment, the excess aether collapses upon Thal's arms and legs, forming a circle of light around them, pinning him down with great force.
The 'man' that had crashed against the cargo bird finally stood up and stayed there, gazing into the horizon as if he had forgotten what was going on. It shook its head and then its whole body, in tandeem with the other one and with a movement of hands from the blue robed Miqo'te. Then he looked at Thal, still looking confused.
The miqo’te grunted, gritting his teeth as his limbs slammed down against the dirt. Straining his neck, he lifted his head up, pulling his shoulders off the ground as much as he could manage to try and get a look at the attackers. "This what I get for trying to take one of your pumpkins?" He called out to the white-robed man. "I should remind ya you offered it to me!"
The vibrations of the aether around him hummed deafeningly in his ears and buzzed with a strange heat against his skin. Unable to physically touch the spells, he tried a last ditch effort to reach with his whole body, feeling the aether as though it were a part of him. The binds flickered, though didn't immediately release.
"Bind his damn limbs, you useless corpses!" Qion'li shouted. The two not-really heavily armored men quickly answered to the order and moved towards Thal. Without a warning, they threw themselves on top of him, taking a firm hold of his limbs. Â
The merchant huffed, extending his arms away from himself in exasperation at Qion'li. "Care to explain me what under the Sultana's skirt is going on?" he asked.Â
"Later!" was the answer. "The king, that is myself, demands this creature to be put under the care of my kingdom. We'll bring him there, bind him properly in a nice little room all for itself and only then I will explain."
"Fine. Whatever. But you owe me a chocobo."
"What--you again? I thought I told ya--" The miqo'te named Thal went limp for a few seconds as the two, dark man-creatures fell upon him, their light but unnaturally strong hand joining the aether bonds about his limbs. Then he sucked in a breath, felt the spell about his legs flicker away as the aether that composed it ran like fire through his calves, and bent his knees to kick upward. He managed to clilp one of the assailants in the hip.
The man twisted to the side at the force of the impact, and let out sickly, dim whimper at it. It answered back by curling his hand into a fist and hitting Thal with it on the stomach. Despite him wearing a gauntlet, the attack felt as if it had been done with a naked hand. The other one struggled to keep the miqo'te from moving.
Qion'li crossed his arms and smiled a few feet away. "Now, my dear god of the dead..." he started, which brought upon him the confused gaze of the merchant. "You can keep kicking and fighting or you can come peacefully...oh, who am I kidding?" he finished with a laugh. "You had your chance to be a guest." He raised his staff above him, charging it with aether.
The miqo'te's spine curled at the blow to his stomach, but the urgency of the moment gave him more than enough adrenaline to ignore the resounding ache. He kicked out again, this time managing a much more direct hit thanks to the opening the shadowed man's attack had given him. Muscles honed from years of traveling the Shroud drove his feet right into the attacker's pelvis with enough strength to knock it back. The moment he felt its hands fall away from his right arm, he was twisting to the opposite side, pushing at the other one.
That one looked at Thal. Without a direct order from Qion'li, he did not know what to do.Â
No order ever came, but Qion'li's new spell hit them both, covering them in a second of white light. The armored man's limbs loosened. His whole body did. He fell on his back like a bag of pumpkins and stayed there. The other one was also hit by the spell as he tried to stood up. He never did, instead staying down as if dead.
The miqo'te who called himself Thal had enough time to noticed his limbs were suddenly free before the white light hit him as well. The effect was nearly instantaneous, the energy fleeing from his body, followed only a split second later by his consciousness. The man fell back to the ground, limp and silent and surrounded by the hum of aether.
![[Image: AntiThalSig.png]](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/179079766/AntiThalSig.png)
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
