Day 12 - Quarry

Day 12 - Quarry

The Black Shroud was alive with sounds and animal life, the ziz squawking about some meal they had found, bats screeching at each other, and anole running by in small packs as they chased down some small critter.

Trees waved in the air, their thick branches full of leaves rustling with the breeze, casting the customary deep shadows over the forest floor that earned the Black Shroud its name. The myriad of plant life that thrived in the shadows supported a booming scavenger ecosystem, the small and tasty game spread throughout the Black Shroud as they tried to avoid becoming a larger beast's meal. And for the most part, the larger beasts could easily find enough to survive and thrive too.

But every once in a while, one of those beasts got too big. Became too bold. And some lone traveler disappeared, or was injured, or their remains were found. It was a sign that some culling was needed, that the predators had grown too powerful and threatened the balance of the forest.

In those very same trees that swayed in the breeze, something shifted, something dressed in deep brown, blending in with the bark with a shirt of green like leaves. Crouched and still, like he was, a traveler or an animal would be hard to spot them, and in fact, a little squirrel passed right by him without even giving him a second look.

His bow rested on his lap, an arrow already in hand, his turquoise eyes scanning the forest floor about twenty fulm below him, watching the pattern of tracks carefully, the ziz that stormed by, the anoles that followed in their wake looking for scraps, and then finally, as he watched, he saw it.

The anoles, typically, didn't follow ziz around, the larger creatures more likely to turn and eat the smaller pack animal than leave them be. But when he saw what was following them, he understood why. Sometimes, the protection offered by a larger predator drew the smaller predators to them. Because the Alpha Wolf that followed was on the hunt for something tasty.

Only a soft chitter was given as the squirrel by Kaleh'a darted off as the archer raised his bow, drawing back the string with practiced ease as he watched the thin, lanky wolf stalked by, its whip like tail swaying in the air as it lifted its head, scenting the air, pausing for a moment to search for its prey. All the while, above it, the wooden bow Kaleh'a held stretched taut, arrow nocked, sighted, his breath drawing in...

It turned, looking up-

The arrow released with a small snap as the string slapped against the arm guard the archer wore on his left forearm, feather flights singing through the air as that snarling face turned up to look at the archer above, and the archer stared down his quarry. It was a second, between firing, and when the arrow struck, perfectly, finding the fleshy softness of the wolf's eye and burying itself deep into the skull behind. And a second more as the Alpha Wolf keeled over dead, the snarl permanently fixed on its face as Kaleh'a let out a sigh of relief, a shiver running down his tail.

"Didn't expect it to see me... Well, one down, one to go." After all, each wolf pack had two Alphas to deal with, and if Kaleh'a didn't take care of them, he wasn't sure anyone else would.

Day 16 - Third-rate

There were many a day that Kaleh'a enjoyed the warmth and camaraderie of a tavern or a bar, and tonight, tonight was no different! He was laughing, cajoling with a group of adventurers, the three well travelled fellows roaring with laughter as the Miqo'te archer with stories from all around the Black Shroud regaled them with his hunts, and the comical situations he sometimes found himself in.

To some, it would have sounded fantastical, but to these adventurers, the details Kaleh'a shared, the way he wove his story, the precision and keen eye of the young man was a slice of normality in their storied lives, and they loved it! Much as Kaleh'a longed to be an adventurer, some of them missed their own humble beginnings. And to hear of one in the making, it brought a smile to their collective faces.

"No, I swear!" Kaleh'a spread his hands on the table, raising one hand a bit above the other. "The damn thing was three times my height! It looked like a pincushion, six arrows in its chest, and the big old bear just kept coming! I didn't know what to do, with three arrows left, no backup, I was honestly, honestly terrified! Anyone who claims otherwise would be lying!"

"Hear, hear!" One of the adventurers chuckled out, lifting his tankard. The other two were nodding along, one's scaled tail wagging in understanding as Kaleh'a's own blonde one flicked about.

"So, I had maybe a shot left, one, and I had to make it count, and with it charging at me, it's head was just becoming larger, and larger, and larger. So I had a perfect chance, a single chance to -"

"Third-rate hunter."

The grumbled, barely above the sounds of the tavern slight hurled at the back of the Miqo'te's head shut him up real quick, left his ears flicking back, then down, his smile faltering for a moment, before he glanced at the adventurers and shrugged. "Sorry folks, being a hunter and a Keeper of the Moon in these parts brings up some...bad feelings among the...hey...what are you...?"

The lead adventurer was standing, moving in tandem with the other two to approach the man who had hurled the insult, and placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. The Hyur turned with a scowl, glaring at the man who had interrupted him, mouth opening to -

The solid fist to his chin sent his head thumping to the bar, then sliding off to the ground, leaving Kaleh'a slack jawed, and the tavern dead silent, the limp, unconscious body unceremoniously nudged by a booted toe out of the way, as the adventurer looked around and raised his hands as if to ask, "Anyone else?" He got no answer from the tavern folk, most turning away back to their drinks, and the few who looked ready to jump up were appeased when he fished a handful of gil from his pocket and placed it on the bar, nodding to the barkeep. "Next round's on me, for everyone!"

The roar of approval as the trio walked back towards Kaleh'a had turquoise eyes misting, the Miqo'te rapidly rubbing away the evidence and replacing it with a beaming smile as the three sat down, and the leader chuckled out, "Sorry, we don't take kindly to those who insult our friends. So, where were you?"

Kaleh'a never again told a story quite as good as the one he did that night, or with as much gusto, as he and his new friends drank well into the night.

Day 26 - Zip

If there was one thing that Kaleh'a Quickdraw was good at, it was knowing his limits.

And when he reached those limits, the second best thing he was good came in to save his tail.

That second thing being running.

The Miqo'te was naturally light on his feet, but after years of tracking prey, chasing after wounded animals, and occasionally running from said wounded animals, his skill at fleeing from danger was exceptional. So exceptional, in fact, that he had never been caught.

And today would not be the first time he was caught.

He zipped past a tree and a slumbering watchman, the illegal hunters camp he had infiltrated rather loosely guarded for so early in the morning, a pair of ill-gotten rabbits over his shoulder as he laughed, waking the sentry just in time for his buddies to come rushing past, most with bows drawn as they yelled with ire.

The truth was, the seven hunters would have put Kaleh'a's skills to the test if he took them all on by himself, but stealing a little piece of their hoard and luring them out was a different story entirely. In fact, it was exactly what he was hoping to do. He jerked to the left, behind a tree, and an arrow whistled past and through the spot he had been running in, but before another could be nocked and fired, he was dashing about in a completely different direction, still laughing as the rabbits bounced on his shoulder.

Another truth, he was a bit terrified. Sure, fighting was one thing, but when you turned and ran? That was a whole different can of worms. Staring down the enemy meant you knew where they were, what they were doing, how they were reacting. This, with his back to them, he had to rely on his ears, his instincts, and his legs.

More arrows zipped past him, singing in the air, and then moments later, a few more, but the wily Miqo'te ducked, dodged, and weaved out of their way, seeing the clearing just up ahead that meant freedom.

And a whole lot of hurt for the poachers.

He burst through the undergrowth, letting out a whooping cry, and as if on cue, from patches of tall grass, Twin Adder and God's Bow soldiers rose up, knocked arrows, readied spears, and prepared themselves, just in time for the first swordsman hot on Kaleh'a's heels to burst from the forest proper, and skid to a halt as he saw what awaited him.

The quick turn towards the forest was stymied by the flow of poachers behind him, unable to call out a warning as he was bowled over by the swarm of bodies intent on skinning the Miqo'te, and instead, all froze as the guards held them up at spear and bow point. Slowly, they raised their hands, dropped their weapons, and surrendered one by one, leaving the captain of the guard grinning as he strode over to Kaleh'a.

He patted the Miqo'te on the back, who was hunched over and panting, chuckling as he did so. "Well done. Crazy idea, but, well done."

Kaleh'a lifted a shaky hand, gave him a thumbs up, and then barfed, the captain taking a step back as the young man groaned. "Should not...have eaten breakfast." And the captain laughed.

Day 14 - Telling

"What gave it away?"

Bryn sat flat on the snow under him, the black and detailed helmet of the Garlean Empire resting next to his black armored legs, so stark compared to the white forest around him. He shared the embankment he was hidden behind with an archer, dressed head to toe in speckled white clothes, pants, boots, long sleeve shirt, jacket, even his hat, all built to blend into their environment and keep them hidden. And given how quickly the blonde Miqo'te had shucked the hat off, he did not like the chosen attire.

"This has to be the ugliest outfit I have ever worn. Period. The end." Kaleh'a grumbled a bit more, before he glanced at Bryn and lifted an eyebrow, registering the question a bit late as he hummed. "Gave what away? You've lost me."

Bryn grunted, silent for a moment, as he carefully checked over his armor. Was something out of place? But the entire thing was just as non-descript and intricate as any common foot soldier of the Garlean Empire, a perfect disguise for his infiltration of a Castrum. Blend in, get in, gather info, get out. And as a Hyur from Ala Mihgo, conscripts from his homeland were common enough. After checking all was in order, he asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"Ohhh! That? That was easy," and the message runner pulled out a piece of smoked lamb jerky and bit into it, leaving the ex-soldier flabbergasted as the Miqo'te seemed perfectly fine with not elaborating. Bryn lasted all of a minute before exasperatedly blurting out again.

"But how?"

Kaleh'a paused his snack fest, and gave the older man a look, shaking his head and shrugging. "Well, first, the mask doesn't really hide your eyes. The silver bleeds through, kinda cool actually. Top that off with your scent - which, by the Twelve do they let you bathe? - and your gait, it was all very telling."

Bryn fell silent for a long moment, and then softly muttered, "I have a tell."

"Huh? No! Not at all!" Kaleh'a laughed, finishing off his jerky and pulling out a letter and handing it to Bryn. "Look, I'm a message runner. I have to recognize who I'm delivering to by sight, sound, voice and scent. Sometimes with just one of those things. Throwing armor over your entire body, hiding your face, and changing the way you talk isn't going to throw me off. Anyone else? Sure! Now, hurry up and take this letter so I can get out of this frozen wasteland."

Bryn snatched the letter from the Miqo'te's hand, his short, nearly buzzed hair starting to ice with his helmet off already, and grumbled some more about Kaleh'a's deductions, reading the letter carefully...and scowling. "Should I ret-"

"They both verbally and explicitly told me to not let you return, and that it was mentioned in the letter." The archer rolled his eyes at the undercover man, and snatched the letter back, shredding it and scattering it in the snow. "Alright, now, I'm gone! Good luck!"

And before Bryn could object, the wily Miqo'te was gone, swinging up into a tree and darting along its branches, leaving Bryn to mutter into the silence, "I have a tell..."

Day 27 - Memory

No, not again, not here.

He couldn't move, the Eorzean men and women bravely charging around him, fighting with tooth and nail against the encroaching VIIth Imperial Legion. They were holding their own, each and every one of them, pushing back the larger force, but Bryn couldn't move.

He was rooted in his spot, like his boots were full of lead, like he was frozen in place by what he was seeing as they sky overhead burned red. He had fought here, he had seen friends die here. But he hadn't fought here.

No, this was the thick of the battle, this was not where he had fought with his small contingent of soldiers on the flank. But all of it, it felt far too real.

He heard it, the cracking sound of artificial earth, his head jerking up and staring up into the sky as the red moon, now so much larger, broke apart, magnificent wings bursting free from their prison, followed by claws, maw, and fiery death. He saw as the primal roared with the rage of his imprisonment, witnessed as its wings curled in and then burst open, unleashing a flare of small fire spears that rained down on both armies, and spread out throughout the land to seek other targets. He saw one strike a butte to the west, and obliterate it.

Where Bryn had originally stood on this battlefield. Where he had barely survived.

This wasn't his memory.

He saw the spell cast by Archon Louisoix fail, saw the monstrous beast in the sky ready to unleash a blast that would destroy the world as he knew it, and felt the cocoon of magic start to envelope him. He reached out, for Louisoix, yelling something, anything, to tell him to stop, to not do this -

But there was only darkness, and that sad smile on the Archon's face as he faded from view.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bryn started awake in a cold sweat, gripping the sheets he was under with panted breaths, the chill of that memory seeping into him as he took a slow, steadying breath, and breathed out. That wasn't me. That wasn't me. Not that it was worse than what he had gone through, but that moment, that moment was not his own. And that, that was calming.

"Hear, Feel, Think."

A voice, that voice, again, the one he thought he had heard before, had denied before, his teeth gritted as he growled out in frustration at it again. "Why me?" he asked to the air, to the presence there, and swiped a hand at where he thought it could be. All he hit was air, nothing was there, but he did feel that presence shift, fade, become nothing.

But it didn't change the fact that he felt like it had left something behind. Whether he liked it or not.

Day 19 - Taken

"Please, anyone please help! She's gone missing! Please!"

It wasn't everyday that the Drowning Wench was interrupted by begging parents holding out a drawing of their daughter, a young thing likely no more than ten or twelve, desperation written on their faces as the plied adventurers and ship-hands for help. And for the most part, they were ignored.

Bryn sipped his drink as he watched the family make their rounds, the thirty-something grizzled man sitting alone without food or drink, currently in-between odd jobs and with so little gil in his pocket he was more or less ready to jump on anything the tavern could offer. He just had one small problem.

With his torn coat, harsh silver eyes, and unkempt beard, he did not exactly look approachable. And it was more or less confirmed when the two parents glanced his way, stared with wide eyes, and then shuffled on to the next patron, who gave her much of the same answer as everyone else. "As the Maelstrom." "Go to the Yellowjackets."

"We tried!" the father yelled, his outburst drawing more attention as he gripped the paper of his daughter's face tighter, crinkling the paper as tears streamed down his cheeks. "They said she ran away! That she isn't missing! But we know our daughter! We know her!"

"She's just a child..." the mother gasped out, somehow holding it together better than her husband, the two Hyur making a pitiful scene standing there as Bryn slowly rose, and strode towards them. For a moment, they didn't even realize the shadow of the man behind them was there, but when they turned to the six foot, black haired ex-soldier, they visibly cowered away. But Bryn did not step back.

"Let me see," he rumbled out, holding out his hand for the drawing, and hesitantly, as if doubtful of the help standing right in front of them, the mother slowly held out the drawing, and Bryn took it carefully. For a long moment, he studied the page, the face of the young girl, noting her distinguishing features, looking up and asking, "Her eyes, what color? And her hair."

"B-brown... both of them."

"Like tree bark," the mother added, a glance shared between her and her husband, as Bryn noted the mother's similar hair color, and the father's eyes.

"Understood." He handed back the drawing, turned on his heel, shouldered his rifle, and left, without a word beyond that simple declaration, leaving the family confused, and more than a little bit worried. At least, until the man they had stopped hounding when Bryn approached chuckled.

"It's your lucky day, the Silver Wolf has a nose for these things. Trust me, he will find her."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sat, and waited, for what felt like days, but was hours. The two distraught parents only grew more and more worried as the man didn't return, as no updates were forthcoming, and as tavern goers got up and left. It was almost closing time, the sun outside setting, and to them, it felt like they were no closer to finding their daughter. At least, until they heard the heavy thud of boots on planks, and Bryn strode through the door with their daughter cradled in his arms.

The scream of terror from the mother was understandable, her daughter appearing pale, limp, and lifeless in the hardy man's arms, but the scream roused her, and she opened a pair of bright brown eyes to look at her mom and dad, and weakly reach for them. They leapt up, sprinting to Bryn and taking their daughter from his arms, hugging her tight as she did the same in return, tears all around as Bryn stood silently by, waiting for the moment to end as he set his rifle down against the back of a chair.

It was the father who broke first, looking up at the silver eyed marksman and gasping out, "Thank you! Thank you sir! Where did you find her?!"

"The Sahagin spawning grounds," he rumbled out, and gestured towards the girl's wet clothes. "She was tied up, likely to be a thrall for their god should he be summoned. You're lucky she didn't become food...or worse." He saw the father shiver, but he still stood straight, looked Bryn in the eyes.

"Anything, name it. It is yours, for saving her!"

"Then a meal and a drink will suffice," the soldier replied firmly, gesturing towards the tavern keep. "They know my favorites, and it won't cost you more than 50 gil." The man looked floored, the price, in his eyes, likely too low. But for Bryn, in that moment, it was all he needed to survive, to make it another day.

He saw the young girl look up at him, with both thanks, and another emotion. She had seen him throw himself at the Sahagin and tear through them to get to her. She had seen the recklessness of how he fought. And he got the feeling, that somehow, she knew. That pushing forward one day at a time was all he could do in that moment. Anymore...was too much for the storied man.

At least tonight, he wouldn't go hungry, and she would be safe and sound in her home.