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Enter Gray Cadell.
Okay, so, uh, yeah. That proto-world I was talking about?
It's called Lerre.
And that summoner I was talking about?
Gray Cadell, at your service.
He gave me a nasty, nasty little snippet, which will probably eventually fit into the Ragnarok arc. I feel really, really bad for writing this, but Gray was fairly insistent that I do. ._.
(Background/snippet explanation: Gray Cadell, a dignified and noble Madain craftsman born in the city of Marano du Pont, has left the city for a time to vacation in the nearby valley alone. He has just discovered a Moogle den at the base of a mountain and is visiting with the little faeries. There has been a loud noise outside, and a number of Moogles have just flown in, screaming, from the antechambers.)
The sudden panic was spreading through the Moogles, as the messengers chirped frantically in their own language, too terrified to form the common words. Gray's cup lay forgotten, spilling its sweet contents on the rock floor. This was a concern that was on nobody's mind; least of all Gray's, as he dashed through the twisting corridors, bent almost completely over to avoid hitting his head or scraping his horn on the ceiling. He ducked his head quickly to avoid goring a panicked Moogle that was flying towards him, and rounded a corner.
Just ahead of him, a vast, slavering head snapped its jaws into the cavern's opening. It was by reflex alone that Gray stopped his forward motion and was able to scrabble backwards as the mouth withdrew and a massive paw slammed down exactly where he had been. The creature outside gave a terrible roar, the echoes resonating through the caves. Gray's horn vibrated uncomfortably in sympathy with the sound, and he grabbed at it to make it stop.
The head began to poke in again, and Gray backed further up the tunnel, peering around the corner and praying to Hyne and Yevon that the beast didn't see him.
Coarse violet fur covered the wolflike face, which snarled and whined as it tried to find prey. Twisted black horns had only just managed to fit inside the cave's opening. The vast mouth opened again and roared, and a blast of foul breath made Gray gag and cover his mouth and nose with his hand.
A Behemoth, surely. But what in the name of great Bahamut was a Behemoth doing out in the open? This was the front of the Moogle cavern; outside there was a vast expanse of sunny valley. Behemoths hated the sunlight; their eyes were sensitive, made for cavern dwelling. The sunlight would blind them...
Gray risked a further look around the corner, and felt a sudden, sick twist of realization.
The Behemoth was already blind. He could see clearly, now, the empty sockets where its eyes must have been intentionally gouged out... Gray gagged again, and not from the smell.
The beast sniffed at the air and whined. It smelled Madain, Gray realized, Madain and Moogle. It was hungry, but its prey was out of its reach.
But it wasn't going elsewhere. Behemoths rarely bothered themselves with swiping at prey in burrows, or with pursuing prey they couldn't catch...
It was a slave.
Gray's skin crawled, and his heart curled up into a sick little ball. It had been intentionally blinded, so that its hearing and smell would be keener... and so that it would feel unsure and afraid. It could then be led from its home caverns, and trained to hunt and kill... the sockets had the look of an old, old wound, the poor beast must have been taken young.
Behemoths were vicious beasts, but not aggressive... they fought only to protect their territory, and their mates and cubs... but this one had been taught only to hunt and kill. Gray closed his eyes, feeling nothing but pity.
A small, chiming voice flittered into his mind, trickling in through his horn. He chimed back to it, softly, coaxing the little Moogle onto his shoulder. It was too terrified to speak aloud.
Gray sat back, stroking the Moogle's white fur, and centered his awareness on his horn, reaching out...
And was thrown back, harshly, the telepathic channels to the Espers so jammed that his own attempt was slammed back through his horn to impact painfully against his mind. He cried out, and the Behemoth immediately turned its head towards the noise as white paws were slapped over the Madain's mouth. The little Moogle chimed fearfully at him, the thoughts an irritation through Gray's sore horn. Wincing, he rubbed at it and chimed back to tell the Moogle that he was alright and would it please stay quiet for a moment?
It obeyed, scooting closer to his neck and quivering there. Gray regretted being so harsh, but it had hurt...
Why was it so difficult to reach an Esper? Madain frequently talked with the great beasts, but even if every other Madain on Lerre was engaged in telepathic conversation at that moment, it should not have hurt...
Unless, of course, they were afraid....
Gray's heart pounded in his chest as he pulled himself to his feet, the little ball of fluff on his shoulder clinging to his robe. Taking a deep breath, Gray focused, reaching out -- the jammed channels still pained him, but he forced himself through, searching for a mind, any mind, we're trapped I'm in a Moogle den and we're trapped there's a slave Behemoth at the entrance and we can't get out please come please help put it out of its misery save us save us for the love of Hyne save us--
And he felt an answer, the air warping and rippling as energy coiled and shifted, and something unfolded from the rift, something long and sinuous and Gray was ankle-deep in water-
No, not you, he thought in terror, but clamped down on it before it reached the Esper. Leviathan was uncoiling, forming himself from water, and Gray scrambled back up the slick tunnels, chiming desperately ahead to the Moogles high ground get to high ground I've called Leviathan you'll drown get up high he's going to flood the tunnels as the water was already rising and the Behemoth was snarling in the rising water, and Gray hoped as he ran through the sloshing water that the poor thing had the sense to pull its head out of the cave-
And then a surge came, lifting Gray completely off his feet and carrying him helplessly through the tunnels - the little Moogle was already flying, chiming urgently at him as he realized he was in more danger than the Moogles had ever been; they were small and could fly, while he was at the current's mercy - the water was continuing to rise and Gray forced his head above water and took a deep breath and the water pushed him up and he was pressed against the ceiling and he held his breath desperately, covering his mouth and nose as two second stretched into five, into ten, into twenty - he opened his eyes and saw Moogles flailing in the water, trying to find a high spot on the ceiling, sensible enough at least to hold their breath but their lungs couldn't hold nearly as much as his and --
--and suddenly the water was falling, surging back towards the entrance, and Gray got his head above water and breathed and the current banged him against the tunnel walls and he slammed shoulder-first into an alcove and stayed there as the water kept draining. Soon enough the antechamber floors were covered in no more than an inch of water, and as Gray sat in the alcove, clutching his shoulder and breathing in ragged gasps, he thanked sweet Yevon that the Moogles had built their den on an upward slant.
Anxious voices were beginning to chime out, and Gray sat slumped against the wall as the Moogles called out to one another, and slowly began to realize that, miraculously, none of them had been hurt. A few of the little faeries wandered back in from the entrance, dazed, and chimed that the Behemoth was outside, certainly dead, along with the bodies of five Human handlers.
Of course it was Humans. Only Humans would be so cruel as to enslave a Behemoth... Gray lurched to his feet, and chimed wearily out to the Moogles, thanking them for their hospitality and apologizing for the extreme action he'd had to take, and he was very sorry but he would be taking his leave now. He barely heard their flurry of responses, fearful and shaken but above all grateful. He had a terrible headache right up to the tip of his horn.
Grateful.... I nearly drowned the poor things. Why couldn't it have been Shiva or Fenrir?
He staggered out into the light, squinting at the unaccustomed brightness, his sandaled feet squelching in mud. As reported, the six sodden bodies lay outside, completely drowned. Gray leaned against the base of the mountain, weak with grief. It was such a waste of life... why had he felt it so necessary to summon anyway? The handlers would have pulled the Behemoth back if it hadn't caught anything...
He looked up, his face wet with more than Leviathan's wave, and gave a cry. On the horizon, amidst the glittering spires of Marano du Pont, he saw smoke.
And despite how bad I feel, I actually kind of like how this came out. ._.
It's called Lerre.
And that summoner I was talking about?
Gray Cadell, at your service.
He gave me a nasty, nasty little snippet, which will probably eventually fit into the Ragnarok arc. I feel really, really bad for writing this, but Gray was fairly insistent that I do. ._.
(Background/snippet explanation: Gray Cadell, a dignified and noble Madain craftsman born in the city of Marano du Pont, has left the city for a time to vacation in the nearby valley alone. He has just discovered a Moogle den at the base of a mountain and is visiting with the little faeries. There has been a loud noise outside, and a number of Moogles have just flown in, screaming, from the antechambers.)
The sudden panic was spreading through the Moogles, as the messengers chirped frantically in their own language, too terrified to form the common words. Gray's cup lay forgotten, spilling its sweet contents on the rock floor. This was a concern that was on nobody's mind; least of all Gray's, as he dashed through the twisting corridors, bent almost completely over to avoid hitting his head or scraping his horn on the ceiling. He ducked his head quickly to avoid goring a panicked Moogle that was flying towards him, and rounded a corner.
Just ahead of him, a vast, slavering head snapped its jaws into the cavern's opening. It was by reflex alone that Gray stopped his forward motion and was able to scrabble backwards as the mouth withdrew and a massive paw slammed down exactly where he had been. The creature outside gave a terrible roar, the echoes resonating through the caves. Gray's horn vibrated uncomfortably in sympathy with the sound, and he grabbed at it to make it stop.
The head began to poke in again, and Gray backed further up the tunnel, peering around the corner and praying to Hyne and Yevon that the beast didn't see him.
Coarse violet fur covered the wolflike face, which snarled and whined as it tried to find prey. Twisted black horns had only just managed to fit inside the cave's opening. The vast mouth opened again and roared, and a blast of foul breath made Gray gag and cover his mouth and nose with his hand.
A Behemoth, surely. But what in the name of great Bahamut was a Behemoth doing out in the open? This was the front of the Moogle cavern; outside there was a vast expanse of sunny valley. Behemoths hated the sunlight; their eyes were sensitive, made for cavern dwelling. The sunlight would blind them...
Gray risked a further look around the corner, and felt a sudden, sick twist of realization.
The Behemoth was already blind. He could see clearly, now, the empty sockets where its eyes must have been intentionally gouged out... Gray gagged again, and not from the smell.
The beast sniffed at the air and whined. It smelled Madain, Gray realized, Madain and Moogle. It was hungry, but its prey was out of its reach.
But it wasn't going elsewhere. Behemoths rarely bothered themselves with swiping at prey in burrows, or with pursuing prey they couldn't catch...
It was a slave.
Gray's skin crawled, and his heart curled up into a sick little ball. It had been intentionally blinded, so that its hearing and smell would be keener... and so that it would feel unsure and afraid. It could then be led from its home caverns, and trained to hunt and kill... the sockets had the look of an old, old wound, the poor beast must have been taken young.
Behemoths were vicious beasts, but not aggressive... they fought only to protect their territory, and their mates and cubs... but this one had been taught only to hunt and kill. Gray closed his eyes, feeling nothing but pity.
A small, chiming voice flittered into his mind, trickling in through his horn. He chimed back to it, softly, coaxing the little Moogle onto his shoulder. It was too terrified to speak aloud.
Gray sat back, stroking the Moogle's white fur, and centered his awareness on his horn, reaching out...
And was thrown back, harshly, the telepathic channels to the Espers so jammed that his own attempt was slammed back through his horn to impact painfully against his mind. He cried out, and the Behemoth immediately turned its head towards the noise as white paws were slapped over the Madain's mouth. The little Moogle chimed fearfully at him, the thoughts an irritation through Gray's sore horn. Wincing, he rubbed at it and chimed back to tell the Moogle that he was alright and would it please stay quiet for a moment?
It obeyed, scooting closer to his neck and quivering there. Gray regretted being so harsh, but it had hurt...
Why was it so difficult to reach an Esper? Madain frequently talked with the great beasts, but even if every other Madain on Lerre was engaged in telepathic conversation at that moment, it should not have hurt...
Unless, of course, they were afraid....
Gray's heart pounded in his chest as he pulled himself to his feet, the little ball of fluff on his shoulder clinging to his robe. Taking a deep breath, Gray focused, reaching out -- the jammed channels still pained him, but he forced himself through, searching for a mind, any mind, we're trapped I'm in a Moogle den and we're trapped there's a slave Behemoth at the entrance and we can't get out please come please help put it out of its misery save us save us for the love of Hyne save us--
And he felt an answer, the air warping and rippling as energy coiled and shifted, and something unfolded from the rift, something long and sinuous and Gray was ankle-deep in water-
No, not you, he thought in terror, but clamped down on it before it reached the Esper. Leviathan was uncoiling, forming himself from water, and Gray scrambled back up the slick tunnels, chiming desperately ahead to the Moogles high ground get to high ground I've called Leviathan you'll drown get up high he's going to flood the tunnels as the water was already rising and the Behemoth was snarling in the rising water, and Gray hoped as he ran through the sloshing water that the poor thing had the sense to pull its head out of the cave-
And then a surge came, lifting Gray completely off his feet and carrying him helplessly through the tunnels - the little Moogle was already flying, chiming urgently at him as he realized he was in more danger than the Moogles had ever been; they were small and could fly, while he was at the current's mercy - the water was continuing to rise and Gray forced his head above water and took a deep breath and the water pushed him up and he was pressed against the ceiling and he held his breath desperately, covering his mouth and nose as two second stretched into five, into ten, into twenty - he opened his eyes and saw Moogles flailing in the water, trying to find a high spot on the ceiling, sensible enough at least to hold their breath but their lungs couldn't hold nearly as much as his and --
--and suddenly the water was falling, surging back towards the entrance, and Gray got his head above water and breathed and the current banged him against the tunnel walls and he slammed shoulder-first into an alcove and stayed there as the water kept draining. Soon enough the antechamber floors were covered in no more than an inch of water, and as Gray sat in the alcove, clutching his shoulder and breathing in ragged gasps, he thanked sweet Yevon that the Moogles had built their den on an upward slant.
Anxious voices were beginning to chime out, and Gray sat slumped against the wall as the Moogles called out to one another, and slowly began to realize that, miraculously, none of them had been hurt. A few of the little faeries wandered back in from the entrance, dazed, and chimed that the Behemoth was outside, certainly dead, along with the bodies of five Human handlers.
Of course it was Humans. Only Humans would be so cruel as to enslave a Behemoth... Gray lurched to his feet, and chimed wearily out to the Moogles, thanking them for their hospitality and apologizing for the extreme action he'd had to take, and he was very sorry but he would be taking his leave now. He barely heard their flurry of responses, fearful and shaken but above all grateful. He had a terrible headache right up to the tip of his horn.
Grateful.... I nearly drowned the poor things. Why couldn't it have been Shiva or Fenrir?
He staggered out into the light, squinting at the unaccustomed brightness, his sandaled feet squelching in mud. As reported, the six sodden bodies lay outside, completely drowned. Gray leaned against the base of the mountain, weak with grief. It was such a waste of life... why had he felt it so necessary to summon anyway? The handlers would have pulled the Behemoth back if it hadn't caught anything...
He looked up, his face wet with more than Leviathan's wave, and gave a cry. On the horizon, amidst the glittering spires of Marano du Pont, he saw smoke.
And despite how bad I feel, I actually kind of like how this came out. ._.
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::Cuddles the poor summoner::
Well, good job, Lyssie-chan! You never cease to amaze me. ^.^
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It shouldn't hurt this much to muse. ^^;