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Welcome to the Novice Network, đź‘‘ Mentor Paige!
As a mentor, you are expected to actively perform the following:
1. Provide advice for new adventurers
2. Be an exemplar for etiquette
3. Invite new adventurers to the Novice Network and answer any and all queries
*Inappropriate mentor behavior may be pawnished
More
mr-rowboat's arts, unsurprisingly of the FF XIV flavored kind, means more stories to go with them. Simple as that!
FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
Hood pulled up, his face shrouded in shadow, Paige wilted beneath the debilitating Dalmascan sun. Peering over the side of his airship the Rogue's vision began to blur as a sea of sand stretched beyond the horizon.
“I'll be honest with ye, Fran,” wheezed the Warrior of Light. “I'm starting to second guess meself.” The dunes beneath their feet shifted in place as imagined oases flickered in and out of focus. Panting, Paige reached for his waterskin and slaked his thirst.
“Come now,” tutted his companion. With a shake of her head, waterfalls of ivory locks tumbling past her shoulders, the chocolate furred rabbit slapped at Paige's back. “You knew full well what you were getting into when you accepted my invitation.”
Shoulders slouched, the Rogue mumble grumbled. Eye level with his guest's breasts he was forced to tilt his head back as far as he was able. Eyes pinched together, Paige squinted at Fran.
The Viera, who was uncomfortably well versed in shepherding the Kingdom of Dalmasca from the shadows, crossed her arms about her chest. “Leave then. If you are so disinclined.”
Slouching forward, sweat dripping from his forehead, the frazzled feline groaned. In all the realm he'd be hard pressed to find someone, someplace, willing and able to shield him from the Scions and their incessant asks. Unfortunately, Dalmasca and its horrendous heat would have to do. “Like I have a choice...” he sighed.
“Hmph.” Resting her forearms along the rails of the airship, sprays of sand hissing against her cheeks, Fran hummed. “Know you why we agreed to keep your coming a secret, Warrior of Light?”
Paige limply shrugged as he sidled up next to her. “Because I asked ya to?”
“If only,” she said with a smirk. “No, Warrior of Light. I have as vested an interest as do you in keeping your identity unknown.” With a fwip of her ears she gestured to what ought to have been a mirage. The Royal City of Rabanastre, even after being razed to cinders by the Garleans and its ruins twisted beyond recognition by the High Seraph's malevolent machinations, continued to stand tall and shimmer upon the sands. “You have, nigh single handedly, delivered Dalmasca from its doom. It was you who put an end to the scourge from the stars known as Ultima the High Seraph. She, who for untold millenia, sought to rot the land and its people from the inside out. Twas you who brought the IVth Legion to heel and Noah van Gabranth's avaricious ambitions to an ignominious end. You freed us, all of us, from Garlemald's shackles of oppression.”
Paige sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Aye. W-w-well. Don't mention it,” he humbly deflected. “I've never been one to rest on my laurels is all.”
“I wasn't planning to,” Fran replied as she wiggled her tuft of a tail. “Much and more have you done for Dalmasca and... I would not have her people come to rely upon you.”
The Rogue's ears perked to attention. “Hence the secrecy,” he mused aloud.
Fran nodded. “Precisely. We must learn to stand on our own two feet without the expectation of your aid.”
Paige couldn't help but cock a brow. “Wouldn't it be easier on everyone involved to keep me at Arm's Length then? Just tamp down the temptation altogether?”
“I said that Dalmasca should never expect your aid. Not that we shall never accept it,” she clarified. “Our spirits may burn brighter than ever but there is no denying that our aptitudes and expertise have... atrophied.”
Sweltering gales blew back the Rogue's hood. His blonde hair whipping wildly in the breeze, Paige dragged his an arm across his cream colored brow. “Hence why I've been asked to be a Mentor of all things?” he cheekily mewed.
The Viera allowed the subtlest of smiles to crease her lips. “Something like that. Granted, were we to announce that the vaunted Warrior of Light was offering to train up and coming adventurers...”
“I'd never hear of the end of it,” Paige grimaced.
“Whereas if we were to relay that an accomplished but otherwise unimportant adventurer hailing from Limsa Lominsa was offering the selfsame services?” Fran cupped a hand to her cheek and turned to the Rogue.
Paige's tail undulated behind him. “The only folks who'd bother to show were those who were serious about it to begin with. Aye. I catch yer drift!”
“Should worse comes to worse...” Fran trailed off as their airship banked towards Rabanastre.
“And nobody shows?” the feline finished for her. “Heh. You won't hear me complain'.”
“I better not,” snorted the Viera.
Leaning over the rails Paige's eyes lit up as he properly behold the jewel of the Dalmascan Desert. Palm trees wreathed the city, shrouding the aqueducts feeding into the city in shade, as did many a cacti bursting into bloom. Displaced Dalmascans, Hyurs and Bangaa and Seeq alike, slowly but surely streamed back into the dilapidated city eager to rebuild and resettle their kingdom.
His heart lifted at the thought of losing himself in a land where no one knew, much less recognized, his face. Of fading into the crowds without worry and keeping his heroics humble. Of returning to his roots as an affable adventurer who cared for nothing more than righting wrongs no matter how trivial.
The heavy flapping of mechanical wings, and the creak of ropes pulling taut, danced along the wind while their airship descended. “...It'll be nice playing a bit part for a change,” Paige happily hummed to himself as the creaks of caravans and festive chatter wafted up towards them.
“Sword?”
SCHWING
An orange scaled Bangaa, clad in little more than a loincloth, bra, and bandanna, drew her scimitar. Whirling about on the balls of her feet, floppy ears and dreads whisking behind her, her sword positively sang as it sliced through the air. Ribbons of steel rippled out from the Bangaa's sweat slicked form as she effortlessly executed a tornadic Total Eclipse!
“Check!” Dragging a forearm across her brow, the Bangaa heavily exhaled. Even when clad in next to nothing it was all but impossible to beat the heat. Nevertheless she soldiered on! “Shield?”
FWACK
Reaching over her shoulder, her scaly and scar pocked arm sliding through the buckler's grip, the Bangaa hurled her limb out and to the side. The displaced gust of air, courtesy of a competently cast Shield Lob, sent the striking dummy before her wildly wobbling to and fro.
“Check!”
Sheathing her weapons, the aspiring Gladiator giddily bounced in place. Ever since Fran had let it be known that an adventurer from afar had offered up his expertise, selflessly volunteering to serve as a Mentor to any and all who wished to study under him, the Bangaa had been counting down the days to his disembarkment!
“Today!!! Today's da day!” she squealed. Hands cupped to her cheeks, Feil couldn't help but manically wiggle. To think! An adventurer, hailing from Eorzea no less, would be here! Here! In Rabanastre of all places! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! Stamping her broad paws, Feil's mind was already abuzz. “Did they know da' Warrior of Light? Did they ever work with 'im? Did they ever speak with 'im? Whut did 'e look like? Why did 'e sound like?” she frantically thought to herself.
Tail swishing excitedly behind her, a dopey smile spread wide across the Bangaa's cheeks. “Awhhhhhh! What I would'n give ta meet the Savior of the Sands...” she dreamily sighed.
Fingers thrumming along her snout the bashful beauty shyly regarded her humble home. The clay bricks comprising its squat and square exterior sported many a scorch marks. Ash still clogged the narrow slats in the walls serving as windows. Her furniture, decorated stones lined with cushions, was sparse. Then she would be remiss to overlook her compact courtyard, a happy accident that came courtesy of a hole punched clean through her roof, and how the sun caught just right against the striking dummy situated at its center.
It was admittedly... a work in progress.
Slinging an arm around the slab of wood that had been all but smacked apart into splinters, Feil nevertheless beamed from ear to ear. A work in progress that she would thank the Warrior of Light again and again and again for. It was only because of him that she had a house much less a future after all!
He was her hero! Her idol! Her everything! Ever since Dalmasca's liberation he was all she could think about! That he would do so much, for so many, while asking for next to nothing in response was... was... Feil didn't know what to call it! It was inspiring. It was humbling. More than anything it made her want to follow in his footsteps in the vain hopes that they would one day cross paths. Should such a day arrive she wanted to do nothing more than... than...
Biting down on her lower lip, the Bangaa excitedly growled. W-w-what was she thinking?! If she had time to day dream she had time to train!
Drawing her shield once more, Feil strafed side to side. Knees bent, and dropping to a crouch, she held her buckler up before her and barreled forward for a Shield Bash.
THWACK
Hopping back with a twirl the Bangaa tensed her tail. Brows furrowed, Feil wildly swung her hips as a whip like crack smacked against the base of the striking dummy. Tumbling back with a crash, clouds of dust rising up around it, her Low Blow had left it completely stunned!
With a happy hum, the telltale tune of a victory fanfare rumbling within Feil's throat, the Bangaa sheathed her shield once more. As her striking sapphire eyes adjusted to the waning light, streaks of pink and yellows piercing through the window slats, she let slip a sharp gasp when she realized-
“I'm late!”
KRSHHHHHHHH
Hurling herself out of her hovel, floppy ears trailing behind her, Feil stumbled through Rabanastre's claustrophobic alleyways. She clambered over rubble, vaulted over stalls, and raced against the setting of the sun itself as her bare feet clapped noisily against the worn smooth stone streets.
“He musta landed hours ago!” Feil cursed to herself. Gah! She had gotten so caught up in her own head, and her own training, that she completely lost track of the time! “Whut if 'e's awready swamped? Whut if e's all accounted fer? No no no no no no no no noooooooo!”
“Wait!” she wailed to no one in particular. “Wait wait wait wait wait!” Feil panted as passersby shot her curious if not quizzical looks. “Mister Mentor! Mister Paige! Wait! Waiiiiiiiiit!”
“Ye know? I could get used to this...” Paige happily mewled. Hands tucked behind his head, the Rogue lazily reclined within the ruins of the old Clan Centurio guild hall. Leaning back into a chair, boots kicked up onto the table before him, the contented cat rocked himself back and forth. To his immeasurable delight not so much as a single soul had shown themselves in all his hours of waiting.
HISSSSSSSSSS
With a yelp, the Warrior of Light recoiled from the rays of the slowly sinking sun. Even this late in the day its glower still threatened to send him spontaneously combusting. Smoke trailing off his overdressed frame the frying feline hurriedly cast the mightiest Mini at his disposal.
FWISHHHHHHHHHH
A pebble sized Paige breathed easy once he dove into a sliver of shadow stretching across what had once been a bustling tavern. His ears fwipped flat against the side of his head as he brushed aside the embers that had started to smolder upon his shoulders.
Hands stuffed into his pockets, the Rogue cautiously tread along the latticework of darkness cast by the structure's burnt black scaffolding and supports. To and fro his eyes wandered as shreds of sun bleached paper, fluttering free from the ashen Hunt Boards that lay propped up against the dilapidated walls, whistled past him. This place had seen better days but...
A wry smile creased Paige's chapped lips as he took to scratching at the back of his head. Its best days were yet to come. That he was sure of.
“Never thought I'd see the day,” Paige snickered to himself. Him? Cutting his teeth as a Mentor? Perish the thought! “Morgan would never let me hear the end of it...” he mrowled.
Shaking his head, the Rogue curiously surveyed the damage done. Much as he relished the thought of cat napping away the days... he needed something to occupy his time with. “Where do I even begin?” he whistled through clenched teeth. “The collapsin' roof? The crumblin walls? The supports shorn down to the very bedrock?”
Kneading at his forehead, Paige couldn't help but whew. “Can't remember the last time I dusted off the ol' Disciple of the Hand...” he mulled aloud. It'd do him some good! Buildin' as opposed to boppin'! At the very least until a Sprout swung by.
...If a Sprout swung by.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Splinters suddenly rained down from the rafters while Paige's frazzled fur stood on end.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Sheets of chalk skittered across the floor, lapping in waves against the Rogue's ankles, as the most minute of tremors carried across shattered stone.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Breaths, haggard and heavy, sent a chill up poor Paige's spine as something, someone, was approaching and fast.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Bulldozing through Clan Centurio's once grand double doors, the fire kissed wood ripping free from its frame and crashing to the floor with a ruinous crunch, a certain orange Bangaa gasped and wheezed for air.
“MISTER... MISTER MENTOR! MISTER PAIGE! I'M... I'M-”
With a squeak of a shout, Paige turned away and shielded himself from the rolling cloud of dust and shrapnel hurtling towards him.
WHOOOOOOOOOOSH
Wind whipping wildly past him the Warrior of Light struggled to remain standing. As a spray of wooden spears assailed him, myriad rips and tears coming to pock his cloak, the Rogue dropped to his knees Down for the Count. His nerves shot, Paige could do little more than crane his neck back and gasp when a sky blotting sole swung towards him.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Sweat slicked, and radiating heat, Paige forced down a panicked swallow at the sight of the supple and scaly foot. A roaring wall of suffocatingly humid air bore down upon him and forced the feline prone. His ears popped. His vision blurred.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
His limbs went leaden as warm walls of flesh dimpled around him. He could feel the creak of her scrunching sole. The groan of her tensed toes.
Hunched over, hands on her knees, Feil panted for dear life. “Mister... Mister Paige I'm... I'm...” Licking her lips, the Bangaa motioned for her unseen audience to give her a moment.
Desperately Paige clawed at the Bangaa's wrinkles only to find himself unable to maintain even the most fleeting of grips. Boulder sized beads of sweat coursed down the upside down valleys that pocked her sole and, with one explosive pop after another, the Warrior of Light found himself soaked completely through and through. His steaming hot clothes clung heavily to him, all but baking him alive, as Feil brought all of her weight to bear upon him.
“I'm so so so late and I'm so so so soooooooo sorry!” Feil groveled. Dropping to her knees, the Bangaa's petite rear coming to rest atop her heels, she prostrated herself before the whole of the otherwise empty Guild Hall.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE
Down was up and up was down. Tumbling through the air, Paige plummeted towards what was once a scaly ceiling. Sliding along the slope of Feil's upturned sole, the Warrior of Light found himself carried along a stream of sweat through canyon like wrinkles. He frantically kicked his unresponsive legs, barely treading water in the process, before ultimately coming to crash against the base of a bulbous toe. Clambering atop it, the swollen and puffy digit casually dwarfing him in size, Paige sputtered and hacked and wheezed while he ravenously gulped down fresh air.
“I-I-I know I'm makin' a mess of a firs' impression but please! Please please please!” Feil pleaded. Tonking her forehead against the floor she continued begging in earnest.
Lips pulled flat, Paige tiredly groaned when he felt himself slipping along the curves of the Bangaa's tremendous toe. Catching against the base of her digit he pitifully mewled when it curled towards him. Low and ominous creaks rattled the Rogue to his very bones as he found himself pinned, if not utterly entombed, between super heated folds of flesh. Limbs locked in place, he was helpless to resist the supple flood of flesh molding around him while her earthy and salt slicked scent assailed his nostrils.
Hands clasped together in prayer, Feil shook them together for everything she had. “Woncha take me under yer wing as yer adventurin' apprentice?”
The Bangaa received but the whistling of the wind as an answer. Raising her head... Feil's eyes wavered. The Clan Centurio guild hall had long since emptied. She had missed her chance. With a pronounced and pitiful sigh the aspiring adventurer slumped forward and her body went limp.
As Feil's tensed toes splayed apart Paige popped free from his pawsy prison. Dragging himself free from the base of her digit, his clawed fingers barely able to dimple the ball of her foot, he flopped himself atop the Bangaa's broad sole. Head tossed the side, the Warrior of Light wheezed while the sizable Sprout's sniffles filled the air.
“Oh fer...” Even if she had just trampled him flat, by way of her apocalyptic application, Paige couldn't stand to see such an honest and earnest lass conducting herself so. “I'll... I'll think about it,” he weakly whispered.
“Hmm?” Rising back up to her knees, Feil dragged an arm across her snout while her floppy ears perked to attention.
“I'll think about it,” Paige repeated himself.
Feil wildly whipped her head side to side when a voice, but a scratch at the back of her mind, called out to her. “Hello?”
“I said I'll think about it!” came a screechy squeak.
Tail raised, and chin tucked against her shoulder, Feil instantly looked back behind her. There, sinking into her supple sole, was a most minute Rogue. “Mister... Mister Pebble?! E-e-err uhh-”
“That's Paige to mew,” he tiredly grumbled. Lips wavering, the Rogue's pride got the better of him as he let the mask slip. “Or as my friends and foes alike are quick to call me...!”
…
…
…
“YER THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT?!” Feil excitedly shrieked at the top of her lungs.
"...Oh nyo," Paige nervously mewled.
FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
As a mentor, you are expected to actively perform the following:
1. Provide advice for new adventurers
2. Be an exemplar for etiquette
3. Invite new adventurers to the Novice Network and answer any and all queries
*Inappropriate mentor behavior may be pawnished
More
mr-rowboat's arts, unsurprisingly of the FF XIV flavored kind, means more stories to go with them. Simple as that!FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
Hood pulled up, his face shrouded in shadow, Paige wilted beneath the debilitating Dalmascan sun. Peering over the side of his airship the Rogue's vision began to blur as a sea of sand stretched beyond the horizon.
“I'll be honest with ye, Fran,” wheezed the Warrior of Light. “I'm starting to second guess meself.” The dunes beneath their feet shifted in place as imagined oases flickered in and out of focus. Panting, Paige reached for his waterskin and slaked his thirst.
“Come now,” tutted his companion. With a shake of her head, waterfalls of ivory locks tumbling past her shoulders, the chocolate furred rabbit slapped at Paige's back. “You knew full well what you were getting into when you accepted my invitation.”
Shoulders slouched, the Rogue mumble grumbled. Eye level with his guest's breasts he was forced to tilt his head back as far as he was able. Eyes pinched together, Paige squinted at Fran.
The Viera, who was uncomfortably well versed in shepherding the Kingdom of Dalmasca from the shadows, crossed her arms about her chest. “Leave then. If you are so disinclined.”
Slouching forward, sweat dripping from his forehead, the frazzled feline groaned. In all the realm he'd be hard pressed to find someone, someplace, willing and able to shield him from the Scions and their incessant asks. Unfortunately, Dalmasca and its horrendous heat would have to do. “Like I have a choice...” he sighed.
“Hmph.” Resting her forearms along the rails of the airship, sprays of sand hissing against her cheeks, Fran hummed. “Know you why we agreed to keep your coming a secret, Warrior of Light?”
Paige limply shrugged as he sidled up next to her. “Because I asked ya to?”
“If only,” she said with a smirk. “No, Warrior of Light. I have as vested an interest as do you in keeping your identity unknown.” With a fwip of her ears she gestured to what ought to have been a mirage. The Royal City of Rabanastre, even after being razed to cinders by the Garleans and its ruins twisted beyond recognition by the High Seraph's malevolent machinations, continued to stand tall and shimmer upon the sands. “You have, nigh single handedly, delivered Dalmasca from its doom. It was you who put an end to the scourge from the stars known as Ultima the High Seraph. She, who for untold millenia, sought to rot the land and its people from the inside out. Twas you who brought the IVth Legion to heel and Noah van Gabranth's avaricious ambitions to an ignominious end. You freed us, all of us, from Garlemald's shackles of oppression.”
Paige sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. “Aye. W-w-well. Don't mention it,” he humbly deflected. “I've never been one to rest on my laurels is all.”
“I wasn't planning to,” Fran replied as she wiggled her tuft of a tail. “Much and more have you done for Dalmasca and... I would not have her people come to rely upon you.”
The Rogue's ears perked to attention. “Hence the secrecy,” he mused aloud.
Fran nodded. “Precisely. We must learn to stand on our own two feet without the expectation of your aid.”
Paige couldn't help but cock a brow. “Wouldn't it be easier on everyone involved to keep me at Arm's Length then? Just tamp down the temptation altogether?”
“I said that Dalmasca should never expect your aid. Not that we shall never accept it,” she clarified. “Our spirits may burn brighter than ever but there is no denying that our aptitudes and expertise have... atrophied.”
Sweltering gales blew back the Rogue's hood. His blonde hair whipping wildly in the breeze, Paige dragged his an arm across his cream colored brow. “Hence why I've been asked to be a Mentor of all things?” he cheekily mewed.
The Viera allowed the subtlest of smiles to crease her lips. “Something like that. Granted, were we to announce that the vaunted Warrior of Light was offering to train up and coming adventurers...”
“I'd never hear of the end of it,” Paige grimaced.
“Whereas if we were to relay that an accomplished but otherwise unimportant adventurer hailing from Limsa Lominsa was offering the selfsame services?” Fran cupped a hand to her cheek and turned to the Rogue.
Paige's tail undulated behind him. “The only folks who'd bother to show were those who were serious about it to begin with. Aye. I catch yer drift!”
“Should worse comes to worse...” Fran trailed off as their airship banked towards Rabanastre.
“And nobody shows?” the feline finished for her. “Heh. You won't hear me complain'.”
“I better not,” snorted the Viera.
Leaning over the rails Paige's eyes lit up as he properly behold the jewel of the Dalmascan Desert. Palm trees wreathed the city, shrouding the aqueducts feeding into the city in shade, as did many a cacti bursting into bloom. Displaced Dalmascans, Hyurs and Bangaa and Seeq alike, slowly but surely streamed back into the dilapidated city eager to rebuild and resettle their kingdom.
His heart lifted at the thought of losing himself in a land where no one knew, much less recognized, his face. Of fading into the crowds without worry and keeping his heroics humble. Of returning to his roots as an affable adventurer who cared for nothing more than righting wrongs no matter how trivial.
The heavy flapping of mechanical wings, and the creak of ropes pulling taut, danced along the wind while their airship descended. “...It'll be nice playing a bit part for a change,” Paige happily hummed to himself as the creaks of caravans and festive chatter wafted up towards them.
“Sword?”
SCHWING
An orange scaled Bangaa, clad in little more than a loincloth, bra, and bandanna, drew her scimitar. Whirling about on the balls of her feet, floppy ears and dreads whisking behind her, her sword positively sang as it sliced through the air. Ribbons of steel rippled out from the Bangaa's sweat slicked form as she effortlessly executed a tornadic Total Eclipse!
“Check!” Dragging a forearm across her brow, the Bangaa heavily exhaled. Even when clad in next to nothing it was all but impossible to beat the heat. Nevertheless she soldiered on! “Shield?”
FWACK
Reaching over her shoulder, her scaly and scar pocked arm sliding through the buckler's grip, the Bangaa hurled her limb out and to the side. The displaced gust of air, courtesy of a competently cast Shield Lob, sent the striking dummy before her wildly wobbling to and fro.
“Check!”
Sheathing her weapons, the aspiring Gladiator giddily bounced in place. Ever since Fran had let it be known that an adventurer from afar had offered up his expertise, selflessly volunteering to serve as a Mentor to any and all who wished to study under him, the Bangaa had been counting down the days to his disembarkment!
“Today!!! Today's da day!” she squealed. Hands cupped to her cheeks, Feil couldn't help but manically wiggle. To think! An adventurer, hailing from Eorzea no less, would be here! Here! In Rabanastre of all places! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!! Stamping her broad paws, Feil's mind was already abuzz. “Did they know da' Warrior of Light? Did they ever work with 'im? Did they ever speak with 'im? Whut did 'e look like? Why did 'e sound like?” she frantically thought to herself.
Tail swishing excitedly behind her, a dopey smile spread wide across the Bangaa's cheeks. “Awhhhhhh! What I would'n give ta meet the Savior of the Sands...” she dreamily sighed.
Fingers thrumming along her snout the bashful beauty shyly regarded her humble home. The clay bricks comprising its squat and square exterior sported many a scorch marks. Ash still clogged the narrow slats in the walls serving as windows. Her furniture, decorated stones lined with cushions, was sparse. Then she would be remiss to overlook her compact courtyard, a happy accident that came courtesy of a hole punched clean through her roof, and how the sun caught just right against the striking dummy situated at its center.
It was admittedly... a work in progress.
Slinging an arm around the slab of wood that had been all but smacked apart into splinters, Feil nevertheless beamed from ear to ear. A work in progress that she would thank the Warrior of Light again and again and again for. It was only because of him that she had a house much less a future after all!
He was her hero! Her idol! Her everything! Ever since Dalmasca's liberation he was all she could think about! That he would do so much, for so many, while asking for next to nothing in response was... was... Feil didn't know what to call it! It was inspiring. It was humbling. More than anything it made her want to follow in his footsteps in the vain hopes that they would one day cross paths. Should such a day arrive she wanted to do nothing more than... than...
Biting down on her lower lip, the Bangaa excitedly growled. W-w-what was she thinking?! If she had time to day dream she had time to train!
Drawing her shield once more, Feil strafed side to side. Knees bent, and dropping to a crouch, she held her buckler up before her and barreled forward for a Shield Bash.
THWACK
Hopping back with a twirl the Bangaa tensed her tail. Brows furrowed, Feil wildly swung her hips as a whip like crack smacked against the base of the striking dummy. Tumbling back with a crash, clouds of dust rising up around it, her Low Blow had left it completely stunned!
With a happy hum, the telltale tune of a victory fanfare rumbling within Feil's throat, the Bangaa sheathed her shield once more. As her striking sapphire eyes adjusted to the waning light, streaks of pink and yellows piercing through the window slats, she let slip a sharp gasp when she realized-
“I'm late!”
KRSHHHHHHHH
Hurling herself out of her hovel, floppy ears trailing behind her, Feil stumbled through Rabanastre's claustrophobic alleyways. She clambered over rubble, vaulted over stalls, and raced against the setting of the sun itself as her bare feet clapped noisily against the worn smooth stone streets.
“He musta landed hours ago!” Feil cursed to herself. Gah! She had gotten so caught up in her own head, and her own training, that she completely lost track of the time! “Whut if 'e's awready swamped? Whut if e's all accounted fer? No no no no no no no no noooooooo!”
“Wait!” she wailed to no one in particular. “Wait wait wait wait wait!” Feil panted as passersby shot her curious if not quizzical looks. “Mister Mentor! Mister Paige! Wait! Waiiiiiiiiit!”
“Ye know? I could get used to this...” Paige happily mewled. Hands tucked behind his head, the Rogue lazily reclined within the ruins of the old Clan Centurio guild hall. Leaning back into a chair, boots kicked up onto the table before him, the contented cat rocked himself back and forth. To his immeasurable delight not so much as a single soul had shown themselves in all his hours of waiting.
HISSSSSSSSSS
With a yelp, the Warrior of Light recoiled from the rays of the slowly sinking sun. Even this late in the day its glower still threatened to send him spontaneously combusting. Smoke trailing off his overdressed frame the frying feline hurriedly cast the mightiest Mini at his disposal.
FWISHHHHHHHHHH
A pebble sized Paige breathed easy once he dove into a sliver of shadow stretching across what had once been a bustling tavern. His ears fwipped flat against the side of his head as he brushed aside the embers that had started to smolder upon his shoulders.
Hands stuffed into his pockets, the Rogue cautiously tread along the latticework of darkness cast by the structure's burnt black scaffolding and supports. To and fro his eyes wandered as shreds of sun bleached paper, fluttering free from the ashen Hunt Boards that lay propped up against the dilapidated walls, whistled past him. This place had seen better days but...
A wry smile creased Paige's chapped lips as he took to scratching at the back of his head. Its best days were yet to come. That he was sure of.
“Never thought I'd see the day,” Paige snickered to himself. Him? Cutting his teeth as a Mentor? Perish the thought! “Morgan would never let me hear the end of it...” he mrowled.
Shaking his head, the Rogue curiously surveyed the damage done. Much as he relished the thought of cat napping away the days... he needed something to occupy his time with. “Where do I even begin?” he whistled through clenched teeth. “The collapsin' roof? The crumblin walls? The supports shorn down to the very bedrock?”
Kneading at his forehead, Paige couldn't help but whew. “Can't remember the last time I dusted off the ol' Disciple of the Hand...” he mulled aloud. It'd do him some good! Buildin' as opposed to boppin'! At the very least until a Sprout swung by.
...If a Sprout swung by.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Splinters suddenly rained down from the rafters while Paige's frazzled fur stood on end.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Sheets of chalk skittered across the floor, lapping in waves against the Rogue's ankles, as the most minute of tremors carried across shattered stone.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Breaths, haggard and heavy, sent a chill up poor Paige's spine as something, someone, was approaching and fast.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Bulldozing through Clan Centurio's once grand double doors, the fire kissed wood ripping free from its frame and crashing to the floor with a ruinous crunch, a certain orange Bangaa gasped and wheezed for air.
“MISTER... MISTER MENTOR! MISTER PAIGE! I'M... I'M-”
With a squeak of a shout, Paige turned away and shielded himself from the rolling cloud of dust and shrapnel hurtling towards him.
WHOOOOOOOOOOSH
Wind whipping wildly past him the Warrior of Light struggled to remain standing. As a spray of wooden spears assailed him, myriad rips and tears coming to pock his cloak, the Rogue dropped to his knees Down for the Count. His nerves shot, Paige could do little more than crane his neck back and gasp when a sky blotting sole swung towards him.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Sweat slicked, and radiating heat, Paige forced down a panicked swallow at the sight of the supple and scaly foot. A roaring wall of suffocatingly humid air bore down upon him and forced the feline prone. His ears popped. His vision blurred.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
His limbs went leaden as warm walls of flesh dimpled around him. He could feel the creak of her scrunching sole. The groan of her tensed toes.
Hunched over, hands on her knees, Feil panted for dear life. “Mister... Mister Paige I'm... I'm...” Licking her lips, the Bangaa motioned for her unseen audience to give her a moment.
Desperately Paige clawed at the Bangaa's wrinkles only to find himself unable to maintain even the most fleeting of grips. Boulder sized beads of sweat coursed down the upside down valleys that pocked her sole and, with one explosive pop after another, the Warrior of Light found himself soaked completely through and through. His steaming hot clothes clung heavily to him, all but baking him alive, as Feil brought all of her weight to bear upon him.
“I'm so so so late and I'm so so so soooooooo sorry!” Feil groveled. Dropping to her knees, the Bangaa's petite rear coming to rest atop her heels, she prostrated herself before the whole of the otherwise empty Guild Hall.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE
Down was up and up was down. Tumbling through the air, Paige plummeted towards what was once a scaly ceiling. Sliding along the slope of Feil's upturned sole, the Warrior of Light found himself carried along a stream of sweat through canyon like wrinkles. He frantically kicked his unresponsive legs, barely treading water in the process, before ultimately coming to crash against the base of a bulbous toe. Clambering atop it, the swollen and puffy digit casually dwarfing him in size, Paige sputtered and hacked and wheezed while he ravenously gulped down fresh air.
“I-I-I know I'm makin' a mess of a firs' impression but please! Please please please!” Feil pleaded. Tonking her forehead against the floor she continued begging in earnest.
Lips pulled flat, Paige tiredly groaned when he felt himself slipping along the curves of the Bangaa's tremendous toe. Catching against the base of her digit he pitifully mewled when it curled towards him. Low and ominous creaks rattled the Rogue to his very bones as he found himself pinned, if not utterly entombed, between super heated folds of flesh. Limbs locked in place, he was helpless to resist the supple flood of flesh molding around him while her earthy and salt slicked scent assailed his nostrils.
Hands clasped together in prayer, Feil shook them together for everything she had. “Woncha take me under yer wing as yer adventurin' apprentice?”
The Bangaa received but the whistling of the wind as an answer. Raising her head... Feil's eyes wavered. The Clan Centurio guild hall had long since emptied. She had missed her chance. With a pronounced and pitiful sigh the aspiring adventurer slumped forward and her body went limp.
As Feil's tensed toes splayed apart Paige popped free from his pawsy prison. Dragging himself free from the base of her digit, his clawed fingers barely able to dimple the ball of her foot, he flopped himself atop the Bangaa's broad sole. Head tossed the side, the Warrior of Light wheezed while the sizable Sprout's sniffles filled the air.
“Oh fer...” Even if she had just trampled him flat, by way of her apocalyptic application, Paige couldn't stand to see such an honest and earnest lass conducting herself so. “I'll... I'll think about it,” he weakly whispered.
“Hmm?” Rising back up to her knees, Feil dragged an arm across her snout while her floppy ears perked to attention.
“I'll think about it,” Paige repeated himself.
Feil wildly whipped her head side to side when a voice, but a scratch at the back of her mind, called out to her. “Hello?”
“I said I'll think about it!” came a screechy squeak.
Tail raised, and chin tucked against her shoulder, Feil instantly looked back behind her. There, sinking into her supple sole, was a most minute Rogue. “Mister... Mister Pebble?! E-e-err uhh-”
“That's Paige to mew,” he tiredly grumbled. Lips wavering, the Rogue's pride got the better of him as he let the mask slip. “Or as my friends and foes alike are quick to call me...!”
…
…
…
“YER THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT?!” Feil excitedly shrieked at the top of her lungs.
"...Oh nyo," Paige nervously mewled.
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Category All / Macro / Micro
Species Bangaa
Size 1717 x 2146px
File Size 3.27 MB
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