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“It was a good run while it lasted,” Bronwen yawned. It'd been, what, at least a few months since the last break-in?
Surprise! Another Final Fantasy flavored size spree come courtesy of
mr-rowboat!
FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
“What will you do?” echoed Master Ilias' voice.
Lips scrunched, Paige silently shuffled through Limsa Lominsa's fog choked streets. Beads of water collected upon his cloak and the tips of his fur while he waded his way through the soupy morass.
“I...” The Rogue's tongue caught against the back of his teeth as he chewed on his answer.
Again did Master Ilias' voice assert itself at the forefront of his thoughts. “When such a time comes?”
Paige grumpily mrowled while his tail twitched behind him. Arms crossed about his chest, and his brows furrowed, he could but bitterly sigh.
“Who will you turn to?” rang the Sea Wolf's words upon the salt-soaked breeze.
Cheeks puffed out, and shoulders slouched, the Warrior of Light visibly deflated. Tiredly did he blink while, with a blinding twinkle, the mist before him burned away as the sun rose over the Rhotano Sea. “I don't know!” Paige groused to nobody in particular.
For many a moon now had the Rogue been wracking his brain. His beloved Sprout, Feil the Bangaa, had all but earned her Job Stone. She would be recognized as a proper Gladiator, and soon, and in short order would she be accompanying him on his adventures!
Which...
Which...
Resting his arms atop the stone railings, and staring down into the white capped waves lapping against the crags, Paige's lips wibbled and wobbled.
Which terrified him to no end! Day and night he worried himself sick about the dangers that awaited her! He had consulted his old Master, Ilias the Sage, on how to proceed and...
“Know I do not say this to discourage, to dissuade you, Padfoot...” he recalled Master Ilias reciting to him. “Know that, in my bones, I truly believe you will make for a most magnificent Mentor. That one day you will wear the title of Master Paige with pride.”
“Yet...?” the Rogue remembered repeating back to her. Gloved hand held out before him he idly gathered aether atop his thick fingertips. The questions the Sea Wolf had posed in response to his own had left him reeling.
“Yet... you and I are not alike, Padfoot. Your magic is meant to mask not mend. What will you do when Feil comes to harm? When such a time comes who will you turn to?”
The scent of sunlight carried along the wind as the last of the mist burned away. With a blinding sheen the whole of Limsa Lominsa came to be bathed in a brilliant golden glow. Eyes half-lidded, Paige cast his gaze out towards the slowly stirring ports.
“I cannot answer these questions for you, Padfoot,” warned Ilias. “This is not something to be rushed. I will wait as long as need be for you to respond. Should I find your answers wanting however...”
The Warrior of Light let his chin come to rest upon his forearms. As the wind blew back his hood, and whipped his blonde locks of hair to and fro, he sadly mewled.
“Feil will remain in my care until such a time you can satisfy me.”
Nostrils flared, Paige dragged out an exhale. Seven hellllllllllls. What was he supposed to do?!
While he'd love nothing more than to recruit a Healer to accompany them... that was a temporary fix at best. Miss Morgan was as reliable as they came, and the Rogue did so utterly adore her company, but she could and would be called away on her own trials and tribulations at a moment's notice.
Lips pursed, the Warrior of Light sheepishly scritched at a cheek. The thought of extending an invitation to none other than Master Ilias herself had crossed his mind. What he wouldn't give to adventure alongside the sizable shark once more! His Master! His Mentor! His...
Paige's face burned beet red as he flustered himself and how at the mere thought. He knew better than to try his luck. While she always made time for him, for which he was forever thankful, nowadays the Sea Wolf was all too engrossed with her Sharlayan studies.
The cream-colored cat's eyes lazily drifted across the sea-side town. With a subdued smirk his gaze came to linger upon his old home away from home. There, hidden away among the docks and embedded into the base of a great stone spire rising from the sea, lay the Rogue's Guild.
“Where it all began...” Paige wistfully chuckled. The feline's curled lips slowly pulled flat as he thoughtfully hummed. Welllllllllll. Not entirely. There was a time, shameful as it was to admit, even before the beginning. When he was something else entirely. Something he'd rather forget.
“...Come to think of it,” the Warrior of Light said with a click of his tongue as he pushed back from the railings and rose to a stand. “How did I get by back then? Without Master Ilias to scrape me off the streets?”
Hands shoved into his cloak pockets, Paige shuffled down the chalky white streets once more. With some hesitation did he dust off the all but memory holed chapter of his life. When he was little more than a vagabond, a petty thief, with nary amount of shame to his name.
Tail flitting behind him he ambled towards one of Limsa Lominsa's many spiral stone staircases. As he descended from the luxurious and wealth encrusted heights of the Upper Decks, perpetually bathed in sunlight, the shadow soaked Lower Decks bid him welcome.
A wry smile came to crease the feline's lips when Hawker's Alley unfurled before him. Slapdash stands and weather beaten shacks, bunched up against the water's edge, stretched out as far as the eye could see. The cloying stench of the sea, of gutted fish and stale ale, hung heavily in the air.
“The old haunt...” Paige mouthed to himself. It hadn't changed a bit. Sauntering through the narrow streets, mindful to step over the stray drunkards strewn about, the Rogue let his muscle memory guide both him and his recollections. His sticky fingers, still shoved deep into his pockets, idly twitched. Long dulled nerves trembled in anticipation.
Pulling up his hood, the Rogue warily regarded the merchants starting to set out overly ripe and damaged La Nosean Oranges, Lowland Grapes, and Wild Onions. Transcendent feasts he could only dare to dream about back when he had nary a Gil to his name. His throat locked up at the thought of how many of those merchants might recognize him and his since sworn off thieving ways.
Cheeks puffed out, Paige continued to shuffle ever onwards. Slowly, agonizingly, did the day to day routine of days gone past come back to him. How he'd size up his victims-to-be. How he'd cycle through stalls lest his face become familiar. How he'd scrape by on mere mouthfuls for days at a time. How-
The Warrior of Light shuffled to a halt. As if by instinct he had found himself drawn towards a shack that, save its second story, was otherwise entirely unremarkable. Its paint was peeling. Its windows were caked with layers of grime.
Eyes squinted, Paige struggled to make sense of the symbol engraved into the wooden sign swinging above its front door. The iron links holding it aloft, rotted through with rust, raucously scraped against one another. “Could it be...?” the feline mumbled to himself in disbelief.
A streak of sunlight, faint and fleeting, pierced through to the Lower Decks and revealed the likeness of an alembic. The telltale calling card of an Alchemist.
Tail puffed out, and fur standing on end, Paige fidgeted in place. “I-I-I mean. It has been a while. Maaaaaybe it's switched hands?” he tried to reassure himself. With a nervous swallow he reached forward to clasp the discolored door knob.
CREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK
The door, practically peeling free from its frame, swung open. As it did so a blast of air, steeped in ink and oils, assailed the frazzled feline. Stepping inside, and shutting the door behind him, Paige reluctantly reacquainted himself with the claustrophobic Potions shop. Weathered shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each and every one of them crafted from the finest detritus that the Rhotano Sea could spit ashore, overflowed with bottles. Lesser Potions, Greater Potions, and reagents of every sort churned within them.
“Whaddaya want?” called out a husky and feminine voice.
Biting down on his lower lip, and bags forming under his eyes, Paige froze in place while beads of sweat collected upon his brow.
“Out with it,” the voice's exasperated owner commanded from the back of the shack. “You either want my wares or ya don't.”
“Oh Hydaelyn,” the Warrior of Light cursed under his breath. It was too late to back out now. Wringing his hands, Paige tepidly advanced through the narrow aisles. As he advanced up to the counter, its gnarled wooden planks stained with who knows what, an emphatic sigh answered him.
“The hells wrong with you?” spat the unseen proprietor. The heavy thump of footsteps, accompanied by the creak of sagging floor boards, sounded out upon the unseen Alchemist's approach.
Clawed fingers thrumming along the counter top, Paige groaned when a wide brimmed hat wandered into view. Back and forth and forth and back did its pointed tip, sagging under the weight of the metal half-moon attached to it, wave as its staturally challenged wearer wandered close. The image of an eye, woven into the hat's base, magically mended itself into an emphatic frown upon approach.
“I SAID-” The hat, its brim barely visible above the counter, angrily jostled to a halt. As it tilted back, and the magical eye upon it came to behold the uncooperative customer, it went wide with shock.
Forcing a pained smile, the Rogue shyly twiddled his fingers. “H-h-hullo, Bronwen.”
The eye blinked in disbelief before its stitched brow pulled itself flat. “...Paige.”
Reaching into his pockets, the flustered feline produced a handful of Gil. “I-I-I'm here as a customer! Just a customer! Promise!”
A brown-furred hand reached up above the counter and promptly shoved back the proposed payment.
“Bronwen, please!” Paige pleaded.
A disgusted grunt, accompanied by the plodding of heavy footfalls, answered him.
Cheek puffed out, Paige dejectedly watched the pointed hat wander round the counter. As it cleared the corner... the shapely Nu Mou it was attached to came into view. Wide as she was tall, her prodigious proportions accompanied by ample amounts of plush, the curmudgeonly canine's lips angrily wavered. “How many times do I have to tell you this?” she scowled as she brushed back the wild white bangs of hair obscuring her eyes. “I don't want your business!”
“If not my business thennnnnn... how about my charity?” the Warrior of Light weakly mewled as he extended an upturned palm overflowing with coin towards her.
No taller than his waist, the tops of her broad and puffy feet covered with scales, Bronwen jabbed a pointed finger into Paige's stomach every time she enunciated at him. “I. Don't. Want. Your. Gil.”
“Bronwennnnnn.” Chin tucked against his chest, Paige crouched over to plead into the Nu Mou's soft snoot. And her deceptively cavernous cleavage.
The Alchemist's eyes, both the ones embedded into her head and the one conjured upon her cap, dismissively rolled themselves in sync. “Don't you take that tone with me!” Bronwen snarked as she pulled up the loose fitting sleeves of her burgundy robe. “You have any idea what'll happen to me if word gets out that I'm catering to, that I'm playing host to, the Warrior of Light?!”
“I meannnnnn.” The feline sharply inhaled at the thought of the Nu Mou's shop all but overflowing with rabid Limsa Lominsians eager to empty her shelves. “They say there's no such thing as bad publicity!”
“Well I do! Shoo! Begone with you!” Tail dragging along the floor behind her, and floppy ears swinging side to side, Bronwen attempted to shove the Rogue back out the way he came.
“Please! Please please please pretty please, I beg of you!” Dropping to his knees, the Rogue still managing to maintain a head of height over her, he clasped his hands together in mock prayer and groveled in earnest. “You're the only one I can turn to!”
“The hells I am,” grunted the Alchemist. “Last I heard yew've got entire nations at your beck and call. Now get outta my hair and get outta my sight!”
FWUMP
A sad and sorry mrowl caught in Paige's throat when he threw himself onto his stomach. Hands clasped around the Nu Mou's ankles, and eyes wavering, he pouted at her with everything he had.
The enchanted eye inscribed into the Alchemist's hat recoiled with a scowl as Bronwen sputtered. “PAIGE!”
“Hear me out at the very least!” he groveled.
“I. YOU.” Gritting her teeth, the Nu Mou sloched forward with a resigned sigh. “...On your feet. Now.”
Reluctantly did the Rogue rise back up to a kneel as he relaxed his grip. When he did so Bronwen ambled on over towards the front door and bolted what few locks that had yet to rust away.
“Can't believe this,” huffed the Alchemist. With a wave of her hand she motioned for him to follow her as she shuffled back behind the counter. “Hurry it up. Say your piece and be done with it.”
Paige's cheeks grew warm when he clasped the cup of tea close to his chest. As he brought the ceramic discolored with stains close to his lips... the feline's nostrils flared. A secret blend of spices, one of Bronwen's own making, tickled at the back of his throat. “Same as it ever was,” the Rogue happily whispered to himself.
“Whuzzat?”
“Nothing!” coughed Paige. As the Warrior of Light tentatively sipped away his thoughts drifted back to simpler, and much more brutish, times. With a grateful hum his eyes swiveled over the rickety table lined with treats set out for her unexpected, and unwanted, guest. Hardtack; Mulled Tea; Lowland Grapes. She still remembered his favorites...
“What's that look for?” Bronwen accused.
“N-n-nothing,” mewled the Rogue. Taking a seat opposite of Bronwen, his cloak draped over the back of his chair, Paige idly dunked a rock hard biscuit into his drink.
Feet dangling over the sides of her chair, and hand cupped against her cheek, the Nu Mou grunted. “So what again does the fate of your luckless Sprout have to do with me?”
“Everything!” Paige implored. “I can't provide for, much less protect her, as I am!”
“That sounds like a you problem and not a me problem,” Bronwen snorted.
Ears folding flat against his skull, Paige wrinkled his whiskered nose. “I... I know. Which is why I've been wracking my brain for a way to fix that.” His eyes swung along the bottoms of their sockets as he gazed into his Mulled Tea. Bit by bit the Hardtack melted away within it. “I don't have the means or the magic to fix her when she falls. I'm no chirurgeon. I'm no healer. But... then I remembered.”
Bronwen's expression softened when Paige's gaze met her own.
“Neither are you. And not once did that stop you from keeping my sorry self safe.”
The Nu Mou dipped her head as a pronounced blush came to form in the folds of fabric bunched up along her hat's enchanted eye. “That. That was different.”
Tail flitting behind him, Paige carefully nibbled on his Hardtack. “How so? I wasn't even your Sprout, Bronwen! I was just-”
“A petty, and particularly pathetic, thief,” she finished for him. “One that I was stupid enough to take pity on no less.”
Purrs, pronounced and playful, reverberated within the feline's throat.
“And look what good it did me!” groused the Alchemist. “No matter how hard I try I can't rid myself of you! Hrmph. What was I even thinking that night...”
SOME YEARS BACK
Footsteps, clumsy but measured, echoed across Hawker's Alley mist covered streets. A silhouette, barely visible through the waning moonlight, timidly rummaged through the shuttered stalls while the ocean's unseen waves gently lapped at the sea walls.
“Something. Anything. Please!” Paige hissed under his breath. Clad in rumpled rags, his toeless boots falling apart and stitched together clothing soaking up the ambient moisture like a sponge, the frail feline's complaints were barely audible over the growl of his stomach. Biting down into his lower lip, and arms tucked against his chest, the petty thief shivered up a storm. Whatever scraps the fish and fruit mongers had left behind had already been picked clean by the seagulls and wharf rats.
GRNNNNNNNNNN
Tears beaded along the cream colored Miqo'te's eyes at the thought of going to bed hungry yet again. As he ambled amongst the alleys straddling the shacks that lined Hawker's Alley, Paige could feel whatever reservations he had about breaking and entering melting away into the mist. Gingerly did he jostle door knobs and nudge at windows. To the last each and every one of them were locked. Until-
CRKK
One wasn't. The feline's heart leapt into his throat when a sun and salt bleached door, its locks having crumbled away into iron scraps, shuddered free from its frame. Fur standing on end he tossed a nervous glance over his shoulders. Nary a soul in sight.
There was no time to waste. Without thinking, Paige hurriedly squeezed himself through the gap and tugged the door shut behind him. Frozen in place, and teeth chattering out of his skull, the feline's eyes slowly adjusted to the shadow soaked interior of the shack he had crept inside. Aisles of shelves, lined with bottles that glistened in the low light, scraped against the ceiling and stretched out before him to the back of the structure. Stale air, mixed with soot and silver, stung at his nose. Wait. This... this was that stuffy old Alchemist's hovel!
The thief's tail excitedly undulated behind him. People would pay a pretty price for her Potions! Wringing his hands together, Paige carefully advanced one stuttering step at a time. Whensoever he felt the floor boards beneath his feet begin to bend he subtly shifted in place. He couldn't squander this opportunity.
Wildly did Paige's eyes wander over the shelves and their contents. Barely could he make out the contents of the bottles as he shuffled past. Distilled Water; Fish Glue; Lavender; Copper Ink; Dew Thread. Ingredients aplenty that were worthless in his grubby hands.
Hmph. What he wanted, what he needed, were the tonics and tinctures that could be produced from such! She had to have them socked away somewhere! Ambling on up towards and around the counter, his clawed fingers brushing along its stained grooves, Paige circled round to the till. As he did so a prominent set of scales, twinkling in the low light, caught his attention. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at the piles of gold balanced upon them.
“To hells with the Potions!” he mouthed to himself. Why bother with all the extra effort of smuggling out and selling her wares when there was Gil for taking right here and now?! Abandoning any and all pretenses of stealth and subtlety the Miqo'te simply scooped up every coin he could carry. Stuffing his pockets to bursting...
VBEW
Paige, in his greed, completely failed to notice the arcane sigils springing to life beneath his feet. A trove of traps triggered in response to the shifting of the scales.
“Llymlaen be praised!” the petty thief mrowled. He could scarcely begin to imagine what all this could buy him. A proper meal! A proper drink! Why... he could afford an Inn room with this kind of cash! His pockets jingling, and smile spanning from ear to ear, Paige clambered round the counter-
FWOOOOOOOOOOM
Only to be enveloped by an explosive burst of light. Smoke came to blanket to bottom half of the Alchemist's abode.
“Honghhhhhhhhhh...” Face down on the floor, his clothes caked with embers and Gil trickling out of his tattered pockets, Paige weakly groaned. “Whuh? Whuh happened?” Clawing forward-
DOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Paige triggered yet another trap.
BABOOOOOOOOOOOM
And another.
“EEEEEEEP.”
Annnnnnnnnnd another.
“NYAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Head spinning, and his cream colored fur now singed and soot black, Paige leg's errantly twitched.
WHUMPF
The thief's ears perked to attention. Someone, something, was shuffling about upstairs. Uh oh.
“It was a good run while it lasted,” Bronwen yawned. It'd been, what, at least a few months since the last break-in? Slouched over the side of her bed, eyes crusted with sleep, the Nu Mou lazily smacked her lips while explosions and exclamations alike wafted up through the floorboards.
Fur puffed out in a panic, Paige desperately tried to salvage his spoils. Cupping what Gil he could close to his chest he rose to a stand. Staggering forward, he-
POFFFFFFFFFFF
Disappeared within yet another maelstrom of magical maladies.
“Those traps cost good Gil you know!” Bronwen irritably shouted. Clad in little more than her unmentionables, the half-naked Nu Mou ambled out of her room with a Clockwork Lantern in hand. “Knock it off!”
Planted face down upon the floor, and mist trailing off rail-thin frame, Paige's weary groans slowly but surely lightened in pitch.
“What do we even pay the Yellowjackets for? I swear!” the Alchemist groused under her breath. Step by shaky step her fat and heavy feet bowed in the uneven planks comprising the stair steps leading down to the store front. Struggling to peer past her bountiful breasts, much less her doughy stomach, Bronwen held on to the railing for dear life with her free hand.
Vision blurring, and his breaths growing shallow, the Miqo'te panicked. His chest tightened. His throat locked up. No matter how far he stretched his arms, or how frantically he clawed his way forward, those precious pieces of Gil remained ever out of reach. Why... they only seemed to grow more distant with every passing breath in fact.
Unbeknownst to Paige, sprinkled in amongst the many Landmine traps he stumbled upon, was a Mini most malicious. Breath by haggard breath he shrank away until the warped notches and grooves in the floorboards became impassable hills. Cold beads of sweat collected upon his neck as he fearfully looked out across the now alien landscape.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Before the frightened thief could even make sense of the situation... a thunderous explosion shattered the sky. In its wake a wave of displaced air, colored by boulder-like beads of dust and spear-sized splinters, promptly washed over him. Tumbling backwards head over heels Paige flailed across the unfamiliar expanse. Vision blurred, and that shriveled stomach of his threatened to force up what little remained, the feline limply ragdolled.
“OH FER.” Hand on her generous hips, fingers thrumming against and sinking deep into her pudgy muffintop, Bronwen clicked her tongue. “A fine mess this is!” Lantern held out before her she groaned in disgust at the whorling plumes of smoke that had caught against the ceiling and the countless scorch marks pocking the floor.
The Nu Mou's snoot scrunched at the sight of the scattered Gil twinkling in the low light. “Now where the hells are you hiding?” Bronwen irritably called out. Brushing back her unruly mop of hair, its white locks blending into the wild mane of fur running down her back, the soft and squat shop keep grumpily ambled about.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
“Honghhh...” Flat on his back, Paige winced when a blinding burst of light bled through the back of his eyelids. As he reluctantly creaked them open...
His lips pulled flat at the sight of a sky-blotting sole descending towards him. Toes, so fat and so thick that nary a trace of light could pierce the gap between them, twiddled in place with a deafening roar. The creaks of unseen tendons, the tensing of muscles hidden beneath thick layers of fat, buffeted and bludgeoned Paige with one sonic boom after another.
FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH
As did a warm gale. The air displaced by the Nu Mou's thick foot, tinged with the scent of worn wood and stale sunlight, flattened the feline. Hopelessly trapped in place, Paige could do little else but watch as the dark and depthless wrinkles that creased the Alchemist's soft and supple sole drew ever closer and closer. Lips wavering-
Paige mouthed out a prayer when, to his surprise, it didn't end right then and there. Darkness, blacker and bleaker than the ocean depths, smothered him. Yet... it was warm. Gentle. Inviting, even.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
The terrible tremors and quakes that wracked him felt so far away now. Creaking walls of plush and pliant flesh, that caressed and contoured around him, shielded him from the thooms of Bronwen's footfalls. Paige's breaths, shallow but steady, slowed as his eyes drooped shut and he nuzzled into the Nu Mou's thick foot. Better this than roughing it out on the streets again he supposed...
“Sakes alive,” Bronwen cursed to herself as she continued to shuffle about behind her counter. “You damn near popped off every single trap I have! No wonder I can't find you!” Lips pursed, she blew a frustrated raspberry. Whoever it was that tried, and failed, to burgle her had surely shrunken away to near nothing by now. Ehh. Fehh. She was too tired for this. She'd toss their sorry ass out whenever the spell wore off come the morn. “Well wherever you're hiding... I hope you learned your lesson!”
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Deeper and deeper and deeper Paige found himself ground into the Bronwen's broad foot as she lumbered back to her bedroom. Drinking deeply of her soft scent, and fading in and out of consciousness, the feline resigned himself to whatever punishment awaited him. As if this in and of itself wasn't humiliation enough...
FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
Surprise! Another Final Fantasy flavored size spree come courtesy of
mr-rowboat!FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
“What will you do?” echoed Master Ilias' voice.
Lips scrunched, Paige silently shuffled through Limsa Lominsa's fog choked streets. Beads of water collected upon his cloak and the tips of his fur while he waded his way through the soupy morass.
“I...” The Rogue's tongue caught against the back of his teeth as he chewed on his answer.
Again did Master Ilias' voice assert itself at the forefront of his thoughts. “When such a time comes?”
Paige grumpily mrowled while his tail twitched behind him. Arms crossed about his chest, and his brows furrowed, he could but bitterly sigh.
“Who will you turn to?” rang the Sea Wolf's words upon the salt-soaked breeze.
Cheeks puffed out, and shoulders slouched, the Warrior of Light visibly deflated. Tiredly did he blink while, with a blinding twinkle, the mist before him burned away as the sun rose over the Rhotano Sea. “I don't know!” Paige groused to nobody in particular.
For many a moon now had the Rogue been wracking his brain. His beloved Sprout, Feil the Bangaa, had all but earned her Job Stone. She would be recognized as a proper Gladiator, and soon, and in short order would she be accompanying him on his adventures!
Which...
Which...
Resting his arms atop the stone railings, and staring down into the white capped waves lapping against the crags, Paige's lips wibbled and wobbled.
Which terrified him to no end! Day and night he worried himself sick about the dangers that awaited her! He had consulted his old Master, Ilias the Sage, on how to proceed and...
“Know I do not say this to discourage, to dissuade you, Padfoot...” he recalled Master Ilias reciting to him. “Know that, in my bones, I truly believe you will make for a most magnificent Mentor. That one day you will wear the title of Master Paige with pride.”
“Yet...?” the Rogue remembered repeating back to her. Gloved hand held out before him he idly gathered aether atop his thick fingertips. The questions the Sea Wolf had posed in response to his own had left him reeling.
“Yet... you and I are not alike, Padfoot. Your magic is meant to mask not mend. What will you do when Feil comes to harm? When such a time comes who will you turn to?”
The scent of sunlight carried along the wind as the last of the mist burned away. With a blinding sheen the whole of Limsa Lominsa came to be bathed in a brilliant golden glow. Eyes half-lidded, Paige cast his gaze out towards the slowly stirring ports.
“I cannot answer these questions for you, Padfoot,” warned Ilias. “This is not something to be rushed. I will wait as long as need be for you to respond. Should I find your answers wanting however...”
The Warrior of Light let his chin come to rest upon his forearms. As the wind blew back his hood, and whipped his blonde locks of hair to and fro, he sadly mewled.
“Feil will remain in my care until such a time you can satisfy me.”
Nostrils flared, Paige dragged out an exhale. Seven hellllllllllls. What was he supposed to do?!
While he'd love nothing more than to recruit a Healer to accompany them... that was a temporary fix at best. Miss Morgan was as reliable as they came, and the Rogue did so utterly adore her company, but she could and would be called away on her own trials and tribulations at a moment's notice.
Lips pursed, the Warrior of Light sheepishly scritched at a cheek. The thought of extending an invitation to none other than Master Ilias herself had crossed his mind. What he wouldn't give to adventure alongside the sizable shark once more! His Master! His Mentor! His...
Paige's face burned beet red as he flustered himself and how at the mere thought. He knew better than to try his luck. While she always made time for him, for which he was forever thankful, nowadays the Sea Wolf was all too engrossed with her Sharlayan studies.
The cream-colored cat's eyes lazily drifted across the sea-side town. With a subdued smirk his gaze came to linger upon his old home away from home. There, hidden away among the docks and embedded into the base of a great stone spire rising from the sea, lay the Rogue's Guild.
“Where it all began...” Paige wistfully chuckled. The feline's curled lips slowly pulled flat as he thoughtfully hummed. Welllllllllll. Not entirely. There was a time, shameful as it was to admit, even before the beginning. When he was something else entirely. Something he'd rather forget.
“...Come to think of it,” the Warrior of Light said with a click of his tongue as he pushed back from the railings and rose to a stand. “How did I get by back then? Without Master Ilias to scrape me off the streets?”
Hands shoved into his cloak pockets, Paige shuffled down the chalky white streets once more. With some hesitation did he dust off the all but memory holed chapter of his life. When he was little more than a vagabond, a petty thief, with nary amount of shame to his name.
Tail flitting behind him he ambled towards one of Limsa Lominsa's many spiral stone staircases. As he descended from the luxurious and wealth encrusted heights of the Upper Decks, perpetually bathed in sunlight, the shadow soaked Lower Decks bid him welcome.
A wry smile came to crease the feline's lips when Hawker's Alley unfurled before him. Slapdash stands and weather beaten shacks, bunched up against the water's edge, stretched out as far as the eye could see. The cloying stench of the sea, of gutted fish and stale ale, hung heavily in the air.
“The old haunt...” Paige mouthed to himself. It hadn't changed a bit. Sauntering through the narrow streets, mindful to step over the stray drunkards strewn about, the Rogue let his muscle memory guide both him and his recollections. His sticky fingers, still shoved deep into his pockets, idly twitched. Long dulled nerves trembled in anticipation.
Pulling up his hood, the Rogue warily regarded the merchants starting to set out overly ripe and damaged La Nosean Oranges, Lowland Grapes, and Wild Onions. Transcendent feasts he could only dare to dream about back when he had nary a Gil to his name. His throat locked up at the thought of how many of those merchants might recognize him and his since sworn off thieving ways.
Cheeks puffed out, Paige continued to shuffle ever onwards. Slowly, agonizingly, did the day to day routine of days gone past come back to him. How he'd size up his victims-to-be. How he'd cycle through stalls lest his face become familiar. How he'd scrape by on mere mouthfuls for days at a time. How-
The Warrior of Light shuffled to a halt. As if by instinct he had found himself drawn towards a shack that, save its second story, was otherwise entirely unremarkable. Its paint was peeling. Its windows were caked with layers of grime.
Eyes squinted, Paige struggled to make sense of the symbol engraved into the wooden sign swinging above its front door. The iron links holding it aloft, rotted through with rust, raucously scraped against one another. “Could it be...?” the feline mumbled to himself in disbelief.
A streak of sunlight, faint and fleeting, pierced through to the Lower Decks and revealed the likeness of an alembic. The telltale calling card of an Alchemist.
Tail puffed out, and fur standing on end, Paige fidgeted in place. “I-I-I mean. It has been a while. Maaaaaybe it's switched hands?” he tried to reassure himself. With a nervous swallow he reached forward to clasp the discolored door knob.
CREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK
The door, practically peeling free from its frame, swung open. As it did so a blast of air, steeped in ink and oils, assailed the frazzled feline. Stepping inside, and shutting the door behind him, Paige reluctantly reacquainted himself with the claustrophobic Potions shop. Weathered shelves that stretched to the ceiling, each and every one of them crafted from the finest detritus that the Rhotano Sea could spit ashore, overflowed with bottles. Lesser Potions, Greater Potions, and reagents of every sort churned within them.
“Whaddaya want?” called out a husky and feminine voice.
Biting down on his lower lip, and bags forming under his eyes, Paige froze in place while beads of sweat collected upon his brow.
“Out with it,” the voice's exasperated owner commanded from the back of the shack. “You either want my wares or ya don't.”
“Oh Hydaelyn,” the Warrior of Light cursed under his breath. It was too late to back out now. Wringing his hands, Paige tepidly advanced through the narrow aisles. As he advanced up to the counter, its gnarled wooden planks stained with who knows what, an emphatic sigh answered him.
“The hells wrong with you?” spat the unseen proprietor. The heavy thump of footsteps, accompanied by the creak of sagging floor boards, sounded out upon the unseen Alchemist's approach.
Clawed fingers thrumming along the counter top, Paige groaned when a wide brimmed hat wandered into view. Back and forth and forth and back did its pointed tip, sagging under the weight of the metal half-moon attached to it, wave as its staturally challenged wearer wandered close. The image of an eye, woven into the hat's base, magically mended itself into an emphatic frown upon approach.
“I SAID-” The hat, its brim barely visible above the counter, angrily jostled to a halt. As it tilted back, and the magical eye upon it came to behold the uncooperative customer, it went wide with shock.
Forcing a pained smile, the Rogue shyly twiddled his fingers. “H-h-hullo, Bronwen.”
The eye blinked in disbelief before its stitched brow pulled itself flat. “...Paige.”
Reaching into his pockets, the flustered feline produced a handful of Gil. “I-I-I'm here as a customer! Just a customer! Promise!”
A brown-furred hand reached up above the counter and promptly shoved back the proposed payment.
“Bronwen, please!” Paige pleaded.
A disgusted grunt, accompanied by the plodding of heavy footfalls, answered him.
Cheek puffed out, Paige dejectedly watched the pointed hat wander round the counter. As it cleared the corner... the shapely Nu Mou it was attached to came into view. Wide as she was tall, her prodigious proportions accompanied by ample amounts of plush, the curmudgeonly canine's lips angrily wavered. “How many times do I have to tell you this?” she scowled as she brushed back the wild white bangs of hair obscuring her eyes. “I don't want your business!”
“If not my business thennnnnn... how about my charity?” the Warrior of Light weakly mewled as he extended an upturned palm overflowing with coin towards her.
No taller than his waist, the tops of her broad and puffy feet covered with scales, Bronwen jabbed a pointed finger into Paige's stomach every time she enunciated at him. “I. Don't. Want. Your. Gil.”
“Bronwennnnnn.” Chin tucked against his chest, Paige crouched over to plead into the Nu Mou's soft snoot. And her deceptively cavernous cleavage.
The Alchemist's eyes, both the ones embedded into her head and the one conjured upon her cap, dismissively rolled themselves in sync. “Don't you take that tone with me!” Bronwen snarked as she pulled up the loose fitting sleeves of her burgundy robe. “You have any idea what'll happen to me if word gets out that I'm catering to, that I'm playing host to, the Warrior of Light?!”
“I meannnnnn.” The feline sharply inhaled at the thought of the Nu Mou's shop all but overflowing with rabid Limsa Lominsians eager to empty her shelves. “They say there's no such thing as bad publicity!”
“Well I do! Shoo! Begone with you!” Tail dragging along the floor behind her, and floppy ears swinging side to side, Bronwen attempted to shove the Rogue back out the way he came.
“Please! Please please please pretty please, I beg of you!” Dropping to his knees, the Rogue still managing to maintain a head of height over her, he clasped his hands together in mock prayer and groveled in earnest. “You're the only one I can turn to!”
“The hells I am,” grunted the Alchemist. “Last I heard yew've got entire nations at your beck and call. Now get outta my hair and get outta my sight!”
FWUMP
A sad and sorry mrowl caught in Paige's throat when he threw himself onto his stomach. Hands clasped around the Nu Mou's ankles, and eyes wavering, he pouted at her with everything he had.
The enchanted eye inscribed into the Alchemist's hat recoiled with a scowl as Bronwen sputtered. “PAIGE!”
“Hear me out at the very least!” he groveled.
“I. YOU.” Gritting her teeth, the Nu Mou sloched forward with a resigned sigh. “...On your feet. Now.”
Reluctantly did the Rogue rise back up to a kneel as he relaxed his grip. When he did so Bronwen ambled on over towards the front door and bolted what few locks that had yet to rust away.
“Can't believe this,” huffed the Alchemist. With a wave of her hand she motioned for him to follow her as she shuffled back behind the counter. “Hurry it up. Say your piece and be done with it.”
Paige's cheeks grew warm when he clasped the cup of tea close to his chest. As he brought the ceramic discolored with stains close to his lips... the feline's nostrils flared. A secret blend of spices, one of Bronwen's own making, tickled at the back of his throat. “Same as it ever was,” the Rogue happily whispered to himself.
“Whuzzat?”
“Nothing!” coughed Paige. As the Warrior of Light tentatively sipped away his thoughts drifted back to simpler, and much more brutish, times. With a grateful hum his eyes swiveled over the rickety table lined with treats set out for her unexpected, and unwanted, guest. Hardtack; Mulled Tea; Lowland Grapes. She still remembered his favorites...
“What's that look for?” Bronwen accused.
“N-n-nothing,” mewled the Rogue. Taking a seat opposite of Bronwen, his cloak draped over the back of his chair, Paige idly dunked a rock hard biscuit into his drink.
Feet dangling over the sides of her chair, and hand cupped against her cheek, the Nu Mou grunted. “So what again does the fate of your luckless Sprout have to do with me?”
“Everything!” Paige implored. “I can't provide for, much less protect her, as I am!”
“That sounds like a you problem and not a me problem,” Bronwen snorted.
Ears folding flat against his skull, Paige wrinkled his whiskered nose. “I... I know. Which is why I've been wracking my brain for a way to fix that.” His eyes swung along the bottoms of their sockets as he gazed into his Mulled Tea. Bit by bit the Hardtack melted away within it. “I don't have the means or the magic to fix her when she falls. I'm no chirurgeon. I'm no healer. But... then I remembered.”
Bronwen's expression softened when Paige's gaze met her own.
“Neither are you. And not once did that stop you from keeping my sorry self safe.”
The Nu Mou dipped her head as a pronounced blush came to form in the folds of fabric bunched up along her hat's enchanted eye. “That. That was different.”
Tail flitting behind him, Paige carefully nibbled on his Hardtack. “How so? I wasn't even your Sprout, Bronwen! I was just-”
“A petty, and particularly pathetic, thief,” she finished for him. “One that I was stupid enough to take pity on no less.”
Purrs, pronounced and playful, reverberated within the feline's throat.
“And look what good it did me!” groused the Alchemist. “No matter how hard I try I can't rid myself of you! Hrmph. What was I even thinking that night...”
SOME YEARS BACK
Footsteps, clumsy but measured, echoed across Hawker's Alley mist covered streets. A silhouette, barely visible through the waning moonlight, timidly rummaged through the shuttered stalls while the ocean's unseen waves gently lapped at the sea walls.
“Something. Anything. Please!” Paige hissed under his breath. Clad in rumpled rags, his toeless boots falling apart and stitched together clothing soaking up the ambient moisture like a sponge, the frail feline's complaints were barely audible over the growl of his stomach. Biting down into his lower lip, and arms tucked against his chest, the petty thief shivered up a storm. Whatever scraps the fish and fruit mongers had left behind had already been picked clean by the seagulls and wharf rats.
GRNNNNNNNNNN
Tears beaded along the cream colored Miqo'te's eyes at the thought of going to bed hungry yet again. As he ambled amongst the alleys straddling the shacks that lined Hawker's Alley, Paige could feel whatever reservations he had about breaking and entering melting away into the mist. Gingerly did he jostle door knobs and nudge at windows. To the last each and every one of them were locked. Until-
CRKK
One wasn't. The feline's heart leapt into his throat when a sun and salt bleached door, its locks having crumbled away into iron scraps, shuddered free from its frame. Fur standing on end he tossed a nervous glance over his shoulders. Nary a soul in sight.
There was no time to waste. Without thinking, Paige hurriedly squeezed himself through the gap and tugged the door shut behind him. Frozen in place, and teeth chattering out of his skull, the feline's eyes slowly adjusted to the shadow soaked interior of the shack he had crept inside. Aisles of shelves, lined with bottles that glistened in the low light, scraped against the ceiling and stretched out before him to the back of the structure. Stale air, mixed with soot and silver, stung at his nose. Wait. This... this was that stuffy old Alchemist's hovel!
The thief's tail excitedly undulated behind him. People would pay a pretty price for her Potions! Wringing his hands together, Paige carefully advanced one stuttering step at a time. Whensoever he felt the floor boards beneath his feet begin to bend he subtly shifted in place. He couldn't squander this opportunity.
Wildly did Paige's eyes wander over the shelves and their contents. Barely could he make out the contents of the bottles as he shuffled past. Distilled Water; Fish Glue; Lavender; Copper Ink; Dew Thread. Ingredients aplenty that were worthless in his grubby hands.
Hmph. What he wanted, what he needed, were the tonics and tinctures that could be produced from such! She had to have them socked away somewhere! Ambling on up towards and around the counter, his clawed fingers brushing along its stained grooves, Paige circled round to the till. As he did so a prominent set of scales, twinkling in the low light, caught his attention. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at the piles of gold balanced upon them.
“To hells with the Potions!” he mouthed to himself. Why bother with all the extra effort of smuggling out and selling her wares when there was Gil for taking right here and now?! Abandoning any and all pretenses of stealth and subtlety the Miqo'te simply scooped up every coin he could carry. Stuffing his pockets to bursting...
VBEW
Paige, in his greed, completely failed to notice the arcane sigils springing to life beneath his feet. A trove of traps triggered in response to the shifting of the scales.
“Llymlaen be praised!” the petty thief mrowled. He could scarcely begin to imagine what all this could buy him. A proper meal! A proper drink! Why... he could afford an Inn room with this kind of cash! His pockets jingling, and smile spanning from ear to ear, Paige clambered round the counter-
FWOOOOOOOOOOM
Only to be enveloped by an explosive burst of light. Smoke came to blanket to bottom half of the Alchemist's abode.
“Honghhhhhhhhhh...” Face down on the floor, his clothes caked with embers and Gil trickling out of his tattered pockets, Paige weakly groaned. “Whuh? Whuh happened?” Clawing forward-
DOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Paige triggered yet another trap.
BABOOOOOOOOOOOM
And another.
“EEEEEEEP.”
Annnnnnnnnnd another.
“NYAHHHHHHHHHHH!” Head spinning, and his cream colored fur now singed and soot black, Paige leg's errantly twitched.
WHUMPF
The thief's ears perked to attention. Someone, something, was shuffling about upstairs. Uh oh.
“It was a good run while it lasted,” Bronwen yawned. It'd been, what, at least a few months since the last break-in? Slouched over the side of her bed, eyes crusted with sleep, the Nu Mou lazily smacked her lips while explosions and exclamations alike wafted up through the floorboards.
Fur puffed out in a panic, Paige desperately tried to salvage his spoils. Cupping what Gil he could close to his chest he rose to a stand. Staggering forward, he-
POFFFFFFFFFFF
Disappeared within yet another maelstrom of magical maladies.
“Those traps cost good Gil you know!” Bronwen irritably shouted. Clad in little more than her unmentionables, the half-naked Nu Mou ambled out of her room with a Clockwork Lantern in hand. “Knock it off!”
Planted face down upon the floor, and mist trailing off rail-thin frame, Paige's weary groans slowly but surely lightened in pitch.
“What do we even pay the Yellowjackets for? I swear!” the Alchemist groused under her breath. Step by shaky step her fat and heavy feet bowed in the uneven planks comprising the stair steps leading down to the store front. Struggling to peer past her bountiful breasts, much less her doughy stomach, Bronwen held on to the railing for dear life with her free hand.
Vision blurring, and his breaths growing shallow, the Miqo'te panicked. His chest tightened. His throat locked up. No matter how far he stretched his arms, or how frantically he clawed his way forward, those precious pieces of Gil remained ever out of reach. Why... they only seemed to grow more distant with every passing breath in fact.
Unbeknownst to Paige, sprinkled in amongst the many Landmine traps he stumbled upon, was a Mini most malicious. Breath by haggard breath he shrank away until the warped notches and grooves in the floorboards became impassable hills. Cold beads of sweat collected upon his neck as he fearfully looked out across the now alien landscape.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Before the frightened thief could even make sense of the situation... a thunderous explosion shattered the sky. In its wake a wave of displaced air, colored by boulder-like beads of dust and spear-sized splinters, promptly washed over him. Tumbling backwards head over heels Paige flailed across the unfamiliar expanse. Vision blurred, and that shriveled stomach of his threatened to force up what little remained, the feline limply ragdolled.
“OH FER.” Hand on her generous hips, fingers thrumming against and sinking deep into her pudgy muffintop, Bronwen clicked her tongue. “A fine mess this is!” Lantern held out before her she groaned in disgust at the whorling plumes of smoke that had caught against the ceiling and the countless scorch marks pocking the floor.
The Nu Mou's snoot scrunched at the sight of the scattered Gil twinkling in the low light. “Now where the hells are you hiding?” Bronwen irritably called out. Brushing back her unruly mop of hair, its white locks blending into the wild mane of fur running down her back, the soft and squat shop keep grumpily ambled about.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
“Honghhh...” Flat on his back, Paige winced when a blinding burst of light bled through the back of his eyelids. As he reluctantly creaked them open...
His lips pulled flat at the sight of a sky-blotting sole descending towards him. Toes, so fat and so thick that nary a trace of light could pierce the gap between them, twiddled in place with a deafening roar. The creaks of unseen tendons, the tensing of muscles hidden beneath thick layers of fat, buffeted and bludgeoned Paige with one sonic boom after another.
FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH
As did a warm gale. The air displaced by the Nu Mou's thick foot, tinged with the scent of worn wood and stale sunlight, flattened the feline. Hopelessly trapped in place, Paige could do little else but watch as the dark and depthless wrinkles that creased the Alchemist's soft and supple sole drew ever closer and closer. Lips wavering-
Paige mouthed out a prayer when, to his surprise, it didn't end right then and there. Darkness, blacker and bleaker than the ocean depths, smothered him. Yet... it was warm. Gentle. Inviting, even.
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
The terrible tremors and quakes that wracked him felt so far away now. Creaking walls of plush and pliant flesh, that caressed and contoured around him, shielded him from the thooms of Bronwen's footfalls. Paige's breaths, shallow but steady, slowed as his eyes drooped shut and he nuzzled into the Nu Mou's thick foot. Better this than roughing it out on the streets again he supposed...
“Sakes alive,” Bronwen cursed to herself as she continued to shuffle about behind her counter. “You damn near popped off every single trap I have! No wonder I can't find you!” Lips pursed, she blew a frustrated raspberry. Whoever it was that tried, and failed, to burgle her had surely shrunken away to near nothing by now. Ehh. Fehh. She was too tired for this. She'd toss their sorry ass out whenever the spell wore off come the morn. “Well wherever you're hiding... I hope you learned your lesson!”
THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Deeper and deeper and deeper Paige found himself ground into the Bronwen's broad foot as she lumbered back to her bedroom. Drinking deeply of her soft scent, and fading in and out of consciousness, the feline resigned himself to whatever punishment awaited him. As if this in and of itself wasn't humiliation enough...
FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT
Category All / Macro / Micro
Species Nu Mou
Size 1625 x 2268px
File Size 1.75 MB
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