Final Fantasy Hacktics

        Mother quietly walked back inside leaving the garden behind her; although that garden would be hers again in only a few moments. She headed to the room where McCloud and she slept the previous night. Placing her gentle hand on the door knob, she turned it with ease; as the door pushed open it creaked as if to sound off an alarm signaling that Mother had entered the building. In response to the creaking of the door, McCloud turned to face her.

         "Naptime" McCloud inquired.

        Mother silently turned to him. "No" Was her only response before she turned back to finish her business in the room. Shrugging off what had just happened and possibly forgetting about such, McCloud shifted his vision back to the bowl, the empty bowl on the table in front of him. Frowning and wishing he had more food to eat, but he knew that he wasn't hungry; he was just eating since there was nothing to do... Boredom brought this knight to eat, and how much he ate was ridiculous. Temptation to just pick the bowl up and dip it in the pot to retrieve more of the food steadily grew on him, but was quickly knocked out of existence when he imagined what would happen. He would pick up the bowl and walk within 2 feet of the pot and Mother's voice would come booming from nowhere to scold him, and soon her body to add to the scolding with her dreaded hands-on-hips technique that drove the fear and guilt further into him. In all he decided it was not worth it to pick up the bowl.

         "McCloud" The voice of Mother echoed through the house "I do remember telling you to take off your armour".

        Oh shoot! She did say to do such! The words struck him fast. He turned to face where he thought the noise sounded from, but no one was there. If Mother wasn't there, then how could he protest! It would be impossible. And without the argument, if she were to come back and see that his armour was still clinging to his body, then no one would be able to save him from her wrath. He stood off and began taking the pieces of armour off one by one, fumbling as he did so; it had been so long since he had taken the armour off. A hand placed itself on McClouds metal back, and pulled on the bonds on the back keeping the armour tight and on; leaving it loose and falling off. McCloud looked to face Mother, but was only greeted by the closing of the front door.

        The breeze was fantastic; it blew across her face once again bringing a smile on her face. It's been too long since she had smiled, and to her surprise it was nature that did so. She walked over to the white flower again, with book in hand. With her free hand she cupped the flower again, and took in its sweet sweet smell. Letting go she dropped to the ground sitting. Her hand carrying the book came forward, and the free hand brushed the cover open, and flicked through the pages again, searching and finding where she hand left off.

         "Back to studying" she whispered to herself, and the smile that was on her face grew cold, and sad.

As Quint woke up from a much needed sleep, he recalls his battle with that insane man. He remembers how hot the man's skin burned when he held him to deliver the killing blow. Just touching him felt like it would scald. He then recalls the blood that was coming out of his nose. It was rather brightly colored for blood and it didn't have the iron smell it always had. He remembered throughout the fight, the man was constantly getting sprayed with that 'blood', thanks to the man's gusting exhalation. Inspecting some of the splatter still on him, he observed it had dried to a powder that crumbled off with the slightest provocation.

Looking around him, the cave contained what must have been the man's possessions. Mostly standard traveling gear, but laying among the man's gear, in plain slight was an emptied pouch and a folded piece of paper.

It would have only felt like a moment after finally shutting his eyes before Quint was rudely awakened by a pair of rather loud birds, almost mocking his exhausted body. Normally Quint would find glee in his hands being bruised and sore, but the difference today was hot hot they were. Looking back, trying to keep the man still with his hands was like keeping hold of a cup of hot water, it took that extra bit of effort to keep from reacting to the heat. Even yawning would remind him quickly of the bruised ribs and a strong kidney shot from one goblin yesterday. Bringing up a hand in a gesture of etiquette that wasn't needed was when he got his first good look at the blood from his nude assailant.  Not like any essence he'd ever seen, and almost like a sugar glaze it disintegrated into tiny pieces upon his touch. Frowning quizzically, Quint would wipe the mess off his hands on a pant leg that was still damp and slowly rose to his feet, trying to fight off his still dizzied state.

Next, a check of the cave itself revealed a few items scattered about lazily, likely the swag of that guy he just beat down. "Least he wasn't completely crazy, or broke from the looks of it.." Quint probably shouldn't have been surprised to find no cash, but maybe this paper's got something worth reading. It would at least give his body a small reprieve.

"512 East Sycamore Street

From front door, 7 paces forward, 12 paces to the right, 3 paces forward, and gently pace to the left until you get what you came for."

An address, and some very specific instructions upon arrival. Didn't take much headache to figure it was directing to some home in Gariland only an hour away, but what's to say that man hadn't already been there and it was the reason he went berserk? Quint scoffed, arrogant in the moment of his own strength with flashbacks of the monstrous blows of his last enemy still fresh on his mind. If he could handle that, he could ''get what he came for'', no sweat.

Dusting off and this time rising with a bit more vigor Quint would inspect a few pieces of the man's gear, taking what looked like to be a sturdy walking stick, a thick, slightly gnarled branch of wood. It'd provide support for the last leg of the journey, and a little extra insurance against another encounter. But that felt unlikely, it being midday and the likelihood of a city's watch patrol. With a wide stretch at the mouth of the cave, sun momentarily bright ahead of clouds, Quint would set off towards Gariland, note secure in a pocket that had later dried out during the trek.

On his hike, Quint tried to not daydream about what could be the item inside building 512, but thoughts of items to use, trinkets to sell came to mind frequently. Most of all the possibility of an great power would invade his thoughts, the theory flimsily backed by his encounter last night. Another image of himself lost to that power came up, but was quickly shoved aside. Even if it meant being in a state that man was in, if it could guarantee Bahamut's head there would be no second guess.
Well,no third guess. If it meant he'd be naked while rampaging there might be a better way around..

Before long the city of Gariland's gates were clear, sun finally behind a formation of clouds. Mid afternoon and the city was a bustle with business, merchants calling, patrons browsing. With a few nice natives giving directions, first to the local priest for a patch-up, then to the address listed, Quint found himself in front of a crimson red door, it blending into the similarly colored brick wall. As if it knew Quint had the note, the door opened effortlessly behind his push.

Vicky stood in the alley dazed. . .
She was thinking about the events of the evening . . .
The was much more treasure to be had at the fencer's.
"Er... I must be leaving now.  I'll call upon you one day, and that shall suffice as our payment." Vicky spouted, shaking her head and clearing the daze.
She turned towards a nearby alley and darted off, opening a vile of perfume and quickly dousing herself.
"The invisibility should hold for a while," she thought "the rain seems to be letting up... but I should probably stay under cover as much as possible."
Her thoughts turned towards her family, the children whom were waiting at home.
"I'll have to hit them on another night..." she slipped on a mossy stone, but caught herself with ease.
The rain was much more of a heavy fog by this point.  It was warm, and the air smelled dank.
The roars of fighting could be hard breaking through the silence from various hot-spots.
"I have to speak to Lindblum tomorrow... some of this loot might be valuable."  A flame lit a nearby window as Vicky splashed through a puddle.
'What's...who's there?!' a freightened voice called out, as Vicky kept her pace and disappeared down another alley.
Several strangers were wandering the darkened corridors, cussing and sticking of liquor.
The grumbled and pushed one another.
Their clothing would suggest they were affiliated with a circus troupe, but their attitudes suggested they were much saltier.
Vicky slowed, and followed them...listening in on their conversation.

'Marcus better be there!' A tall clown brayed.
'Of course he'll be there!' A short man replied.
'Ah hell... What would you know?!' the tall man said as he kicked the dwarf.
'Barkley you... I swear you'll wake up at the bottom of a lake one day...' the dwarf muttered.
The other two chuckled.
'What was the plan....?' a woman asked.
Everyone stared at her.
'Geesh, sorry...but you're all so drunk...that I don't even know WHAT you think we're doing' she continued.
'We're going home.' A handsome man said.
'Oh...' the woman slowly said, she tripped on a crooked stone, and fell on her butt.
She made a wry face.
'I hate this town, I can't wait till Marcus says we can leave' she finally said, as she stood up.
'Oh Bertha~ . . . ' the handsome man said, holding her hands as she rose.
The conversation continued as they stumbled down alley after alley.
'Are we lost?' Bertha cooed.
'Nah, just over there' Barkely the tall clown said, pointing to a a large tent.
'Oh...' she said again.

Vicky stopped and watched as they entered the tall canvas tent.
"Hm..."
She turned around and went home, the moon illuminating the fog created a soft glow sticking to all the surfaces.
Her house was a shanty structure.
The roof was patched together from pieces of discarded wood and metal.
The walls barely held the weight, and creaked whenever the wind blew.
She entered the decaying structure.
There was a pile of cloth and hay in one corner where Vicky slept.  There were several other smaller piles, but they seemed to have not been used for ages.
"Kids I'm home!" Vicky chirped.
Silence greeted her.
"Yeaaah honey!  It was great tonight, mommy helped so many people!"
Silence continued to fill the house.
"But you need to go to bed now!"
She walked toward the invisible child, reached out her hand, and walked it to bed.
She sat down beside the pile and wept.

The night dragged on, and eventually Vicky found herself lying on her straw mat.
"Tomorrow Vicky"
"You have to do better tomorrow." she said to herself as she drifted off.

The forest was usually filled with the strange callings and sudden cries of various unidentifiable wildlife. But tonight, only an oppressive silence hung in the air. The particular silence was welcomed with open arms to many of the members of the cult, having hated the irritating chatter of the local fauna. What the cult did not know, as they sleep restfully in their tents, was the worst thing you can hear in the forest is silence. Only the chocobos seemed to understand the meaning of this silence. The new moon had turned it's back to the cult as the silence was unfortunately broken.

Against the starry night, a shadow moved against the stars, then seven more appeared. Nothing about them could be discerned, no sounds could be heard. Even their general shape seemed to expand and contract, albeit rhythmically. The only feature these shadows had was their horrible, burning red eyes. Silently and rapidly, the shadows glided in the direction of the Blade and Scythe's camp, their glowing red hot eyes searching the ground underneath them, snapping from direction to direction with unnatural speed and purpose.

They landed directly in the heart of the camp. wasting no time in moving to the nearest tent, blinking from space to space. As one started to enter a tent, the chocobos finally picked up on the shadows' arrival and promptly let out a panicked shriek, waking and alerting everyone in the camp. Realizing their cover was blown, the shadows broke their silence and let out a horrible, metallic screech. As the able bodied scrambled out of their tents, weapons in hand, the lanterns they brought with them finally revealed the shadows' true form. Standing as tall as a man, their beaks cruelly bent to a deadly point underneath their burning red eyes, blue and white plumage, these shadows were the dreaded Juravis.

Lance woke up cheerfully that night, having enjoyed the silence and gobbling up the opportunity.  He lazily smacked his lips as he stood up, a warm breeze greeted him as it wafted past. Slowly noise could be heard, a bit of a rustling at first.  Lance rubbed his eyes and smiled.  Slowly the fog became visible, the noise became sharp.
A Juravis was standing eerily still. . .  Lance's mind processed slowly, wondering if it were still a dream.  Suddenly a sharp pain overtook Lance's body. . . a wet feeling on his back.
A creature shrieked as Lance became fully aware of his surroundings.
The Juravis was not alone, several more were standing around him.
Lance fell to his knees as he reached around, slapping at the moisture on his back.
His clothing was drenched with thick red blood.
Feeling faint Lance fell face first into the dirt.  The creatures standing above him wasted no time in devouring his flesh, and spreading visceral goo across the camp.

   The ruffle of unfamiliar feathers was enough to wake Felicitous. "Agh! Bird! Bird!" she cried, pointing up at the offending avian. "Kill it! It's evil!"

Quint entered, revealing a empty, abandoned and unfurnished house It must be condemned. It's wood was aged and warped by time. The floorboards creaked with each step. The thick film of dust and drawn curtains on the windows dimmed the daylight down to a trickle. The air inside was heavy with must and dampness. Various piles of junk were stacked against the walls collecting dust.

It seemed that the directions the paper gave would led him into a room and around a corner he couldn't see into right away.

"Okay.." Quint peered into the room, "Lets get to work." Whatever was here, it was sure to be coated in dust, if this floor is any indication to the rest of the house. He took slow, shallow breaths in an attempt to not deeply inhale the particles that seemingly hung in the air. Though the house seemed to be safe, if dirty, there had to be a reason one had to obey those rules. However, Quint wasn't willing to find out, following the note's instructions to the letter. Finishing his last three paces forward, Quint began leaning left around the corner.

Quint turns the corner to find an empty bedroom. It's walls and floor are completely bare. It doesn't even have any windows, leaving the room uncomfortably dim. At the supposed area where he is to 'gently pace', nothing of interest seems to be there. Interesting...

Careful steps into a small room, to say it was empty would be barely be telling the truth, more dust here than in the room with windows.. Dark too, so Quint went on guard. If the instructions were so specific, moving beyond the designated area would be an issue, so Quint would step lightly to his left, using an arm to feel ahead of him. With the lack of light, springing a trap could spell doom, his steps slow and calculated.

As he carefully treads as per the paper, the floorboards rhythmic squeaking suddenly hits a sour note. Repeatedly stepping on the same reveals that the particular floorboards is loose. In fact, several floorboards are loose and seem easily removable.

Still semi-blind, the sounds of the floor's creak in this area was different than the ones from his previous steps, Quint's hearing taking over somewhat for his eyes. Instantly his disposition perked up and he dropped to a knee to examine the wood. Pulling the floor planks up..

...Revealed a treasure chest in the rather large crawl space below! It seemed rather easy to get to however...

"Hello!" Quint exclaimed, able to see the faint glint of a chest, still unopened from the dim glow. Still a little wary, he'd prop up the planks up with a small brick that had dislodged from the wall, jumping down into the space below. Rubbing his hands together, Quint would slowly nod to himself, happy to catch a break. Especially since he was this close, he wouldn't take a chance, using his walking stick to prod at the chest..

The treasure chest glowed ominously at being prodded. It didn't seem very safe to open the chest. As Quint stood there wondering how to get into the chest, he suddenly heard voices from above and outside. "...I hope we didn't get here too late. We can't lose this stash, man. They'd fucking gut us. Be ready for anything guys, this guy is either really ballsy or really stupid. Rig the exits, Horton. He ain't leaving here." Their footsteps against the old floorpanels started to draw near...

"Aw dammit.." He would exhale softly, half at the chest not opening, half at the footsteps above him moving slowly towards his position. Good news was that he was in a small space, any attackers would have to come one at a time to get to him. Bad news, that brick at floor level would quickly give away his hidden position. His situation was tight, but for once he had a jump on his opponent and was able to take an aggressive stance, focusing his power into his fists and feet. He was feeling at 100% for the first time in a week, thanks to the voluptuous nurse that tended to his wounds, ready for the enemies above. Already he had a fist cocked back, waiting for a poor soul to reach under the floorboards.

Having lost the element of surprise, the Juravis immediately dispensed with all subtlety and went onto the attack. They ripped open tents containing the members trying to hide from them. Their merciless beaks effortlessly ripped them to pieces as they tried in vain to save themselves. The defending men and women, desperate to get the Juravis' attention off everyone else, loaded their bolts onto their crossbows and started firing at the foul beasts. The ones lacking crossbows threw rocks at them. As the bolts and rocks soared through the air, the cranes suddenly snapped to attention at the oncoming volleys and unfurled their wings. As the bolts and rocks came, the Juravis dodged, blocked and flapped the offending projectiles away with insulting ease, their wings acting like bulletproof mantles.

More people had joined the defense, moving within melee range of the birds. Their attacks mostly found air as the beasties effortless bobbed and weaved their heads and necks around their weapons and limbs, sniping and ripping at their vitals. They wielded their beaks with the skill of a master swordsman. Even their wings were knocking the defenders to the ground to be ripped apart.

By this point, everyone that wasn't fighting was fleeing to the was fleeing to the sound of the Anisuasor, who was desperately trying to coax his followers into the forest in hopes that the trees could provide some kind of cover, enough so that he can finally cast Dark Holy. It was difficult to cast it as the sheer panic his followers were in made gathering the power needed difficult. If he could get enough of them to safety, he could cast sooner than later. However, the Juravis had already set upon the fleeing followers, completing bypassing the defenders that assailed them with a hop and a flap of their wings.

The Juravis had already eaten their fill of human meat, feasting even in the heat of combat, knowing no fear of the humans attacking them. It was now time to gather some meat to take home to their chicks. Simultaneously, they descended on the crowd, each of the flock pinning down it's own human, choosing to either pierce and crack their skulls open or rip their throats out. The defenders had converged onto the Juravis, attempting to save the the congregation from being slaughtered. They proved to be as successful as before, the Juravis downing and driving them off with ease.

Feeling no urgency, the Juravis engaged the human cattle, toying with them like a cat would to an injured mouse. It was only an attack to show off and strengthen dominance in their flock, to show who's best at killing. Their metallic screeching had now taken on a more sinister, mocking cry, almost resembling laughter. As they continued to attack, tearing up defenders left and right, suddenly, one of the Juravis started shaking in a fit and exploded in a pillar of darkness.  Distracted by one of it's flock being destroyed by darkness, a defender finally made it through it's defenses, stabbing it with a knife and leaving it there.

One of their own being so uttered annihilated reminded them of the dangers of fighting Man. With that, they immediately disengaged, grabbed their victims and flew off into the night, all but one. The knife in it's wing had sliced a critical tendon, making flight impossible for it. It was now grounded, surrounded by furious humans with nothing but death and revenge on their minds. Nevertheless, this Juravis was not going down so easily.