The Rise of Ivalice

[Elegant Esthetics]

Lies, lies, lies. It seemed like that was all Sayenth was good for these days. He was undercover to protect the King's unwanted brat, surrounded by non-Humes, and he wasn't even allowed to practice his swordplay. If he didn't start again soon, he would become irrelevant, and may be stripped of his status. Cold steel was the only love that Sayenth knew, and he was determined to be the best lover that swordplay had ever had the privilege of dancing with. Intricate manuevers were his life, and, ultimately, they would probably lead to his death.

Sweating in the hot weather, he loosened his shirt a little bit more. At times he wanted to just go out and climb Mount Bur-Omisace naked, if only to cool down. Of course certain parts of him would shrivel up, and that would be rather inconvenient. These thoughts made Sayenth blush slightly, but it was unnoticeable beneath the layer of sweat and grime on his face; if he were in the palace, at least he would be able to catch a breeze from the fan-bearers. Although, on the other hand, he would have to wear his heavy armor all the time, and that wouldn't be comfortable either. You have one evil at one side, and another to the other side. Ugh. Philosophy.

Wandering through the small, simple village of the Garif, Sayenth looked for his young charge. Children; they never seemed to be where you wanted them to be.

***

He has shown some promise so far, has he not?

He is still a boy. Would you place the power to control History and Future in the hands of a child?

Yes, if that child was the Prince Raithwall.

You lie.

***

Is the child the same way as before? Or has he finally decided to grow up? The king asked his aide, who stood close to the intricate, emblazoned throne. The man was silent for a time before he responded, thinking over his words carefully.

Only time will tell, sir. The aide wouldn't dare to tell his king what he was really thinking: does anybody really know? Probably only Raithwall himself did.

You lie.

[snowdog]

"Ow."

"OW!"

No matter how many times he attempted it, Olan always managed to hammer his fingertip rather than the little nail he was struggling to drive into the wall. A few more strikes - of his poor aching hands as well as the stone wall - and it was done, leaving him to admire the poorly-drawn sign.

'Guard for Hire. Will work for minimum wage. Contact Olan Ritka.'

The scrawled words were accompanied by a small, crude drawing of a man with long, pointed ears; the depiction of himself was something he was proud of, despite the fact it looked as though it had been done by a child rather than a fully-grown male. Standing back with his eyes upon it for a moment, he then strode off, leaving the sign to be discovered.

It was a warm day, one that was neither too hot, nor too cold, the breeze being simple, and refreshing in the haze of the sun. People lined the busy streets of the afternoon, all of them buzzing from one place to another. Pacing along in a leisurely manner, Olan took in the sights around himself. On the outskirts of the Westersand, this village was of considerable size, and could almost be described as a town. Olan was fairly well-known here now - well, someone as remarkable in appearance as he could hardly blend in - and quite liked the folk here. They were friendly, and had helped him through some rough times while his Chocobo business had failed. Sadly, his ailing Chocobo had not pulled through, and so he was left with his own, his pride and joy.

Hopefully someone would hire him as a bodyguard, and he'd make some more money.

<3

[Ningacom]

The sands of the Westersand were alive this evening. Dancing and twirling through the hot, unforgiving wasteland; so full of life in a land of death. It was in this desert that a lone Bangaa was shuffling through the sand. A few passing cockatrice eyed his figure suspiciously, but they were too occupied with their own quest for food that they disregarded him quickly. The Bangaa smiled as he saw the creatures scamper away.

"For this so called "land of death", there sure is a lot of life around." Daguza remarked, continuing on his way.

Daguza had been out in the desert for two days now. He had taken shelter in a cave he had grown accustomed to sleeping in, and eaten some rare berries he had found growing in the more fertile parts of the Westersand. They were small berries, and they tasted like ash. Daguza could always kill a passing creature, but it was against his morals to eat meat. Killing anything at all, grant you self-defense, was considered a sin by the monks of Bur-Omisace. Daguza chuckled at this thought, and moved on. His plan for the day was to stop in a nearby village, of which he has well-known, and offer his services for a small fee. Most people were glad to have his assistance, whether it be to heal minor injuries or assist with chores. Of course, some people came to him for other purposes. Escorting travelers, and killing threatening monsters were sometimes part of his agenda. Although he didn't enjoy killing, Daguza wasn't so blind that he couldn't tell the difference between a threat and an innocent creature.

Daguza climbed up to the top of a dune, and saw his destination. He smiled, looking forward to a good pay and some decent food. "I'm in the mood for some noodles." he said softly, making his way down to the small village.

[Electropop]

Hillaphin was looking over at her partner. Not saying a word just watching around her Purple bow slung around her as she closed her eyes. She was in a sad mood. She knew her partner wished to fight and practice but they both knew they can not. They had a job.

"At peace. Your restlessness is driving me mad." She spoke softly enough so he could hear only but he seemed to be away. His brown eyes looking the other way as if he was lost in thought. She sighed. The people here tended to look on her oddly. Her long ears and her eyes seemed to catch anyone's mind as they watched the world. It still made her feel...blocked as watched people.

The woods. Her home and family gone... Shaking her head from trouble thoughts and past she tried to get her Partner back on track.

"If you don't speak with me again I shall latch and arrow onto your throat."

Occ: Short.

[Raticus]

Raithwall sat himself down on the banks of the Sogoht, with his staff aside him in the reeds.

The sun had beat a belligerent day on the land of Jahara, and the earth was baking in the heat. With his knees bent he swiftly unlaced the fringes and cordings of his trousers and sandals, so that the dry air would swirl around his sweat-soaked skin. It was cooling at once, but cooler still were the fresh waters of the river. At first, it's bed was hard against stride, but as he stood still, the sands parted and cushioned his weight. Raithwall lifted his mask from his face letting it fall with his hood over his shoulders. His face glistened with sweat, and he promptly washed his brow, with beads of glistening water gliding through his scalp.

Splashes were heard nearby; downstream, half a dozen nanna had waded in with him. They shook their hairy hides and drank with parched tounges. Gutteral moans of pleasure amongst the swirling water rose to the banks where insects chirped and hummed.

He lowered his hands to the water again, noticing his complexion dancing in distortion of the flowing water. Cupping his hands, he rose them to drink before filling his waterskin. Crossing to the bank, he slipped his sandals on and lowered the ornate mask over his face. Courting the nanna, he let them drink for a while before herding them to the shore, snagging a wanderer with a smack of his staff. Across a grassy pasture, the nanna instinctively clustered into their pen and began to graze silently on the hay that was provided for them for the evening. With the hook of his staff, he wound the latch round the gate until it was taut.

The dry and hot wind had saturated his body again with sweat, and Raithwall peered from the four eye-holes in his mask to the east. The rain may be far off still, building over the heat of Golmore and sweeping over Ozmone and then to Jahara, but there was no sensation in the air. No tingle of electricity; no scent of an oncoming thunderstorm. The morrow would be barren of relief, but such was the land of Bancour. Unpredictable.

As he passed the two of the straw-and-hide huts on his right, he stopped when he heard a low mumble pass in front of him.

"...Raferu."

Raithwall craned his neck to his right, where the Garif had spoken their name for him. He was not returning Raferu's glance, but was watching a Hume cross the wooden bridge over the Sogoht that split the village in twain. He had come from the small encampment in the distance; wherein several Humes dwelled temporarily. The watchmen. Content on living on the edge of town if not for the mere dislike of having to bother with the foppish Garif.

A friend had given him warning, to with Raithwall was grateful, but only bore his shadowed gaze towards the man dressed in commoner's attire. It was unmistakable that he hailed from the kingdom of his father. He lay the shepherd's staff at his feet, next to the hut, and entered.

[snowdog]

It had been a short walk to Olan's dwelling, so short that, when the crowds parted, he could just about see the little paper notice upon the stone wall of a building.

The feeling of sand between his toes was replaced by cool, yet slightly grainy stone as he crossed into his little home. It was a modest building, with only three rooms, but it was enough for him. He cared not for space he could not fill - and besides, this was the only house he could afford that came with enough room to keep Chocobo nearby. Passing through the cool air of the house, he emerged at the back door, smiling sadly as he gazed out towards the now rather empty-looking stable. It was in a small expanse of land, all contained within a small white fence.

A golden head was raised from the hay, followed by a gleeful cry. Emerging from the hay, black eyes glimmering in the sun, the Chocobo hopped over excitedly, its beak almost smiling as Olan approached. He smiled at the creature, affectionately petting its head, and neck with a characteristically soft touch.

The others were gone now, but the little bird seemed optimistic enough despite the loss of its companions. It was much quieter now, Olan noticed, but it remained a cheerful, loving creature nonetheless.

It raised its head once more, before squawking another cry.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Olan looked to his left, his grey eyes meeting the stout form of a middle-aged Hume. He appeared young, with oddly glinting eyes, and tumbling blonde hair tied back into a swaying ponytail.

"And there I was telling my friend he was a liar. Looks like I've lost a bet!"

Olan looked at the Hume in a curious manner, even subconsciously tilting his head as he weighed the man up in his mind, determining just what on earth he was talking about.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, leaving the Chocobo to itself and moving closer to the Hume, who now rested his arms upon the fence. The man smirked.

"My friend told me there was some male Viera running around town," the Hume explained, his eyes continuing to glint in a somewhat slimy manner. He gave a similarly reptilian smile. "I bet that he was wrong, but now," his eyes looked Olan from ear to toe, "I see he wasn't lyin'."

Olan blinked, but humoured the man in his usual good-natured manner, flashing a smile, and giving a nod.

"Not at all," he replied, "I understand it would be difficult to believe."

A short silence fell upon both, other than the occasional shuffling of the Chocobo's feet, or the wind rustling in the dry trees.

"Can I help you with anything at all?" Olan offered, after clearing his throat slightly; this felt awkward indeed.

The Hume shook his head.

"Nope," he smirked. "Just wanted a look at ya."

Wide-eyed and rather dumbfounded, Olan stared on in bewilderment as the man strode off in the direction from which he had came. Rubbing one of his ears, an eyebrow raised, Olan muttered a few words to himself before continuing to tend the Chocobo. It was pleasant out here in the open anyway, other than having to deal with odd men like that one.

<3

[Electropop]

Hillaphen was quite. She watched the young boy entered the tent she turned, her eyes searching the young boy who was a prince. She didnt say anything but her stance was known to be weary. Her red eyes watched him as he entered speaking nothing to her or to her Partner she smiled, trying to make tent less tense.

"My name is Hillaphen. How are you this day?" Ignoring the people around her, she eyed the young boy. Smiling or trying to. She wanted him..relaxed as she worked around him.

"What is your name?" She spoke softly being very tall then the younger one she went down alittle to seem less..."Big" as the Humes called the word. She waited for the young one to speak, trying not to burden him with to many questions at one time.

[Elegant Esthetics]

Seeing his partner approaching, Sayenth couldn't help but stifle a groan. The Viera was a bit wild with her outlook; although, it was for that very reason that she was useful as a second in command. Let's face it-when it came to weapons, the only ones better than a single viera would be another viera. Unless, of course, they met certain humes; those that had devoted their lives to their arts, and had tried to cram as much practicing as possible into that short span. Sayenth was one of those individuals, or at least he liked to think so. The sword was important to him.

Hmm... his partner was talking. No matter; Sayenth never really answered anyway. Spotting his charge by the hut that was a fair distance away, Sayenth prepared to enter the dwelling when a thought struck him, as if it had been sent by a God. He would wait for the prince to leave the hut, and then he would take him out among the Plains, maybe even north and then west to the Sandsea. The location was little more than sandstorms and dunes, but the prince should enjoy going out to experience the outside world. Either he would go with Sayenth willingly, or he would be dragged along; it didn't matter either way.

Settling down near one of the Garif warriors, Sayenth took care to keep his pants clean- he only had a few pairs, after all. In his front pocket he had a bit of fruit, and it would be fun to eat i- that fool! She had gone to talk to the young prince after all! Now Sayenth was forced to go, but he tried to stay in the background as he walked over. Unfortunately, his partner had begun to converse with the boy. With a quick cough and a hasty intervention, Sayenth stepped in between the two.

"Raithwall, I'd like for you to be ready to go on a little trip by sundown. Can you do that?" Sayenth asked the boy, waiting for an answer. Not that the prince had any control over what happened; Sayenth was in charge here, and he knew it.

[Ningacom]

Daguza smiled as he entered the exciting village. Actually, when Daguza thought about it, it seemed more accurate to call the area a small town. Many a traveler and merchant stopped in this "town" to rest and trade with the public. But although it was located near Rabenastre, it lost no business to the large city. The merchant's prices here were less steep, although the amount of variety is limited. Regardless, the town had prospered.

The guards let Daguza in without a word, he was well known in this area (and few Bangaa in robes came this way). He walked slowly, taking in the life of the town. Children could be seen scampering about, playing their games of adventure and mischief. The mothers sat close by, eyeing their children carefully whilst gossiping about current events and scandals. The occasional bird swooped gracefully through the ranks of people, scanning the area for food. Men bartered and yelled across their stands, negotiating prices and conditions. A few non-humes would weave their way through the mobs of people. Seeq, Bangaa, and the occasional Moogle could be seen diverging the crowd.

Daguza stepped into a busy tavern, and found himself a table in the back. This was his accustomed spot to loiter; it was also where people in need of his services looked for him. A waitress came by, a cute Hume girl, and took Daguza's order of a pot of tea. There was no point in specifying what kind, for they only had one brand Daguza could not identify. When the waitress walked away, Daguza pulled back his hood and sighed in relief. It was so nice to get a little rest every occasion or so.

[snowdog]

Even as this day went on, the sunlight remained unrelenting. This heat was almost unbearable to even the most acclimatised of the townspeople. Olan wondered, as he sat in the pleasant shade of his home, how those not from the area might cope. Not very well, he'd assume. The male was used to it himself, thanks to his childhood in the sands, but even he felt the blazing scorch of the sun on his skin now and then.

The people outside, moving, scurrying like little insects were making his eyes wander, drifting from focus to focus without any real thought in his head. His head was similarly watery. The Chocobo was asleep, its needs met, and now Olan had time to himself. Time to think. His gaze eventually ended up on a wall just within his vision. Realisation struck him, and Olan furrowed his brow, releasing a little grunt of frustration.

The notice he'd left up had been ripped down, it seemed. He reminded himself that it could indeed have been by a potential employer, but something in his intuition told him that it had merely been torn in the rush of the day by some passer-by - perhaps even by a mischeivous child.

For once, Olan's messiness was useful. Picking up the ink, and parchment that had been left upon the floor after he had made his first sign, he quickly crafted another three or so, so that he could find somewhere safer to place his little advertisements.

Rising to his feet with them, removing his tunic as he did so - it was far too warm to go out walking in such attire - he then left his house, making for the small cafe around the corner. It received varied business, from common folk, and sometimes, more important fellows, and so seemed an excellent option.

Stooping as he entered, he noticed a few others in there, some of whom looked up at the male as he approached the waitress. She was a Hume girl, now wide-eyed, and quite curious.

Olan smiled at her, scratching his neck awkwardly at the look she gave. It was so odd that he was not sure if it were curiosity, fascination, or fear. Hopefully it'd be one of the former.

"Excuse me," he said softly, for fear that the latter were true, "but would it be possible for you to leave one of these on the counter, or elsewhere?" He gave her one of the pieces of parchment. "I can pay you for the favour if needs be."

The Hume girl simply nodded, before turning, and pinning the advertisement to the back wall. She had asked for no payment, so, wanting to repay her, went on to order some tea. He might as well give her some business seeing as her kindness could lead to some business for himself.

<3