User blog:Ziharku/Log 27: Eagle Eye

"Two on the left!" I duck a swing from a mace, only to be knocked back as an explosive round goes off by my feet. Falling straight on my back, my vision is blurred on impact. I struggle to my hands and knees with just enough time to roll to the right, evading a massive club as it comes down where I lay just moments before….

Earlier that day:

I’ve awoken in a rather terrible mood. The nightmares kept sleep at bay for the better part of the night, and my hands won’t stop….shaking. On the bright side, I’ve finally been relieved of my foot brace. Cured rather quickly to my medic’s surprise, and to my surprise, he still hasn’t left the building. The Thief managed to empty a storage room for his use, so I suppose he’s being reintegrated into the mercenary group for a time. The comic relief from his terrible word choices and…interesting…attempts at becoming a combat Dancer are rather welcome though, as conversation can get stale at meals from time to time.

As I drag myself out of bed and to the mess hall, the Black Mage stops me for a moment. “We need to send a couple of people out to check on imperial troops stationed in a fort on the northern part of Wajaom. Would you mind being one of them?" Yawning, I nod. Nodding back, he jogs (my usual walking pace) down the hall to another room. I don’t know whose room though, as I’ve become less prone to exploring the building since I accidentally ended up in the Red Mage’s room. I’d rather not go through that affair again.

The morning passes uneventfully, as I stroll through the town. I’m hoping the fresh air and brighter aura of the townsfolk will improve my mood a bit. “Ziharku!" the White Mage cried as he scurried towards me. “I heard you’re going on the recon mission this after noon." I nod, and then a sigh from him. “Don’t expect to have too much fun. You’re going with Captain One-Shot, so even if something happens he’ll be killing it before you can lift your sword." Question, expressed on my face at the name, he dismisses it with a wave of the hand. “Ehh, you’ll see."

I arrive just outside the city when the Ranger strolls up leading two Chocobo. “Thought I’d get us to the tower faster like this. After all they aren’t paying us to run, just to get there." Rummaging through his pack, he finds a flask and downs a few gulps. With a refreshed “Ahhh," he nimbly jumps, swinging a leg over the saddle, then stares at me. “They aren’t paying us to stand here either let’s goooooooooooo!" With a chuckle, I mount mine as well and we set off for the tower.

"All right," the Thief starts, “I know Ziharku hasn’t been in the best shape lately. I’ve sent Artemiis to make sure things go smoothly for this mission, but I need someone to follow them, make doubly sure everything goes well. Vysere," he motions to the Corsair, “since you know the woodland better I’d like you to go." The Corsair nods, “All right, I’ll make sure Arty doesn’t go off on some kinda of side trip and get them into trouble." Good, I’d hoped it would be me, he thought. There’s something I need to see when that Blue Mage fights…

"Well…." The Corsair stared blankly at the fresh chocobo prints outside the city. “I knew I should have rented one! It’s gonna take me ages to catch up to them now." With a sigh, he began to jog. “Tailing them, more like playing catch-up now."

On arrival, the area is quiet, though….not so serene as the quiet suggested. Even sound of insects had abandoned the area. We call up from the front gate with no reply. Communicating with quick glance between us, the Ranger draws his knives as I pull my swords from my waist. Sifting mana through the air, I conjure the aura of a Golem, and use it’s heavy fist to punch a hole through the heavy wooded gate. A trembling takes me, I stagger and prop myself against a part of the gate still intact. The Ranger reaches to lend a hand, but I motion for him to go ahead of me. Any danger should be lying in wait inside the tower rather than out here, so having him go in alone would pose less danger than being a liability recovering inside. He looks at the hole, then back at me. I motion to the makeshift entrance again. Shaking his head, he slips through the gate without disturbing so much as a splinter. Closing my eyes, I focus on his aura, using it as a focal point as I search for the aura of any possible enemies inside.

After a few minutes, a rock lands on my head with a soft thud. Opening my eyes again, I look up. The sun is in my eyes trying to look up the rampart, high noon’s curse as I rub my eyes for the strain the effort gave me. First a laugh broke out for my wincing, then the Ranger calls out “It’s all clear in here, but hell I knew that before I even came in, hahaha. Couldn’t find so much as a body, but there were a few signs of struggle. Looks like they got taken prisoner. I’ll be back down in a minute, I want to get a view off the scout’s post since it’s higher." I sit, back propped against the wall, when a thought strikes me. The attack had to be recent for the area to still be so quiet. What if going into the tower is a…

"Ugh I knew it. From the Northwest! Trolls!" the Ranger calls out. Rising to my feet, I run down the ramp that leads to the gate, and to my right a troupe of Trolls runs out from the brush. The tallest, a gunner, smirks as he sees the Mithran high up in the tower. His gaze steadily looks for more fighters on the rampart, and a frown appears when he sees none. The motion as I draw my swords once more catches his eye, and when he sees my Immortal Attire he grins. I suppose he thinks I’ll fetch a decent price as a hostage or some kind of prestige for killing me. My swords waver as my hands shake. This cursed tremble, why today of all days for it. With a roar, the Trolls charge!


 * Huff* *huff* *huff* “Finally!" the Corsair exclaims. The tower is in view, and so is the battle ensuing. A group of Trolls is running around with shields overhead, trying to make sure our Ranger doesn’t get any decent shots in on their comrades as the attempt to bludgeon me to death. Visibly, and like with purposely exaggerated motion, the Ranger bellows out a laugh and fires off a salvo of arrows, pinning the shield Trolls to the ground with arrows through their feet. Howling with pain, they fall almost simultaneously into a crouched position with shields still overhead as their free hands begin to break the afflicting arrows in half to allow their escape. With a solid *thud*, one of these trolls slumps over, shield and arm pinned to his head by an arrow. With sudden alarm, the remaining shield-trolls drop their shields and work on their escape with far more urgency, only to be felled one after the other.

"Thanks, saves me money on arrows like that. I can use the cheaper ones if I only have to pierce your skulls!" A malicious grin covers the Ranger’s face as his prey suffers an inevitable fate. In the meantime, I’m having an oddly hard time against these Trolls. With this tremble I can’t so much as parry an attack, let alone attack for more than a cut’s worth of damage. A cut! That may be all I need. As a mace swings down at me, I step to the side just slightly and swing my sword across the Troll’s neck. Blood sprays out from the wound as the Troll stumbles back, dropping his mace and clawing at his neck for the pain. Surprised by my counterattack the other two Trolls just stare at their comrade as he’s bleeding out, giving me just enough time to send one of them to the same fate. As the end of my blade leaves the nape of his neck though, he thrashes his club about in the air knocking that sword (my left hand’s) from my grasp. It flutters through the air, landing tip-down in the dirt about ten yalms behind the the now fallen foe. The third Troll, now wary of me despite being one sword short, pulls a small buckler (though still a large shield if compared to a buckler I’d be using) from his waist to guard his neck. Keeping a low stance, he charges.

Up on the rampart, the Ranger’s ears perk up. A stirring comes from the stairs, and soon a small force of trolls can be heard climbing up. With a shattering of wood, the first shows itself, only to slump forward dead with an arrow between his eyes. The second Troll, staring down in confusion at his fallen ally, took an arrow in the eye and tumbled back into those behind him. The shuffling of feet, rolling body, and curses in their throaty language could be heard for several minutes before the next was willing to make himself visible from the rampart. These few minutes were enough time for the Ranger to rummage around the rampart and ‘borrow’ some arrows from the imperial stock.

A door became visible through the doorway. “The hell are these things up to?" A Troll had decided to try for safety and pulled a door from a storage closet on the level below, proceeding to strap it to his arm as a shield. “Eh not that it matters…." Taking a glance up and down the shield, he found where the Troll’s arm was strapped to the door through the gaps in the wood, then took his aim and placed four arrows in a line in rapid succession. With a mangled roar, the Troll staggers as the arrows connected his arm to the makeshift shield like nails connecting planks of wood. In his staggering, the Troll turned his body just a bit, angling his body just right for another arrow to pierce his temple. “Come on you lot," the Ranger called down the Rampart as he pulled his flask from his pack. “You’ve gotta do better than that if you wanna get to the Arty-Party going on up here!"