From: Arcanis  <dshumate@b...>
Date: Tue Jan 2, 2001 11:32am
Subject: [HD] Drunken Esper


Arcanis stood on a rocky ledge overlooking a tiny town nestled in the small
mountain valley stretching out before him. A narrow dirt road, muddy from a
recent rainfall, stretched south through the mountains. Arcanis had
absolutely no idea where he was. He had only been on Earth on two occasions:
the time espers spent co-exiting with humans before the first Magiwar, which
was so many millennia ago he could barely remember it.

The second time was spent in the form of magicite being used by Kefka
during the second Magiwar. He was still pretty pissed about that: Kefka had
gleaned one of the neater spells he had crafted from his magicite. It was a
modified version of the Ultima spell-- Kefka called it the Light of--
something or other. After Kefka had pulled it from Arcanis' memories, he'd
tried for several years to remember how he'd crafted it. It was a pretty
powerful spell. *Maybe when, if, I defeat Kefka, I'll get that spell back
and try it out on Crystal Peak* Arcanis thought to himself, studying the
several columns of smoke rising from the village. Arcanis shrugged and
jumped off the ledge to the stony ground at the edge of the village thirty
yards below.

Landing nimbly with the help of a few short bursts of magic, Arcanis stood
and straightened his well-oiled raincloak. He spotted a sign near the town
limits. It was inscribed with a burnt, indistinguishable town name followed
by the population: what appeared to be a recently scribbled out number.
Written above the scribble was a much lower number, Pulling the grey cowl
over his head and set into the village to met the first non-espers that he
could remember.

In the village, Arcanis used his keen esper vision to pierce through the
lengthening shadows of dusk. Of course, all they pierced to were a few
houses. Literally. Most of what he saw were smoking piles of rubble,
smoldering from the light rain that had apparently saved the blackened
houses still standing from burning to the ground. Arcanis spied a long
building that appeared mostly undamaged, and there seemed to be quite a few
people inside from what he could see through the windows. *This must be a
tavern* Arcanis thought, studying the wooden sign that swung wildly over the
door by one hinge. A mug of some type of liquid was inscribed on the damaged
sign. Arcanis pushed open the wooden door into a smoky, ill-lit tavern.

Arcanis smelled blood in the air, and saw that several people were
stretched out along one wall, bloody and unconscious. Some dead, actually,
Arcanis sensed. He glanced around and saw several people drinking very
quickly from mugs similar to the one on the door, and having the mugs
refilled by a burly barkeep behind the counter they sat at.. In fact,
Arcanis realized, everyone in the room was either dead, unconscious,
drinking, serving drinks, or a combination of the four.

Arcanis sat down awkwardly at one of the stools. He glanced around the
room, revising his plans to casually ask if anyone knew of a man named
Kefka. Instead, he just wanted to know what the hell was going on. He was
startled back to the counted as the bartender slammed a mug down on the
counter in front of him, barely missing crushing his fingers to pulp.

"This `ere be a bad time ta` be sightseein`, strangar`," the barkeep
pronounced in fragmented grammar.

"Er, what exactly happened here?" Arcanis said, wincing at the bartender's
breath and taking back all the bad things he'd thought about Bahamut's. The
bartender tapped the mug.

"Infermetion`ll come wit` yer order," the bartender said in his gruff
voice. Arcanis felt a moment of panic. Being an esper, he never actually
needed to eat or drink. The only thing he'd drank in the past few millennia
had been the occasional Ether to boost his magic skills for an extending
spellcrafting session. A memory flashed through his head, and he grabbed at
it.

"Um, ah, ail. Er, I mean, ale," Arcanis said. The bartender narrowed his
eyes and held out a massive hand. It took a few moments before Arcanis
remembered that humans enjoyed trading shiny, circular pieces of metal for
some strange reason, as often as they could. He fished through one of his
pockets and drew out a few gold coins he had made by liquefying them inside
the ground and drawing them out to form them into circles in the air, until
they hardened. The bartender stared blankly at the five shining coins
Arcanis deposited in his dirty hand. "Not enough?" Arcanis asked worriedly,
reaching into his pouch. He hadn't known how many to make, but even if he
couldn't detect any gold in the ground he could always artificially conjure
more.

The bartender seemed to have a small seizure as he gave a start, clutching
his hand around the yellow metal. "N-no, no. Just I'm used `ta seeing this
sam` amaunt` en copper, ya` knew," the bartender stammered. Arcanis blinked
in confusion and shrugged as the barkeep filled his mug with a brown, frothy
liquid.

"The 'information'?" Arcanis reminded the barkeep, studying the dark liquid
in his mug. Arcanis picked up the heavy mug and sniffed it, wondering if it
was whatever ale was, horse piss, or even poison. He mentally struck out the
third, they surely had no idea he was an esper, why would they poison him?
So it was one of the first two. Arcanis was leaning towards the second
mentally.

"Er, yeah. Not much ta` know, just a giant robot thing with a name thet
saunded lik` a quit-smokin patch came through and busted the town up good,"
the bartender explained. Arcanis gave a wry twist of his mouth, picked up
the mug, and bravely tilted it back into his mouth.

Arcanis put the mug down and wiped his lips. It was surprisingly good,
despite its appearance. The bartender was staring at him, and so were a few
nearby people with their drinks halfway to their mouths. "Um, buddy," the
barkeep said uneasily, "maybe you should slow down a little, there. I don't
water this down, you know." Arcanis looked down and saw he had drained the
entire large mug. He shrugged and raised it for another glass, which the
uneasy, but happily paid bartender filled.

Later, the bartender, after watching the slender, tall stranger drain his
fifth glass of ale, decided that he didn't really mind a giant robot with a
name that sounding like a quit-smoking patch annihilating the village. After
all, even without the strange fellow, he was making quite a bit of profit
off all the other men drinking away the loss of their homes or the pain of
their wounds. The strange, grey-cloaked fellow drained a sixth mug, stood up
unsteadily, and looked around with a discombobulated look on his face. After
a moment, the fellows eyes rolled up and he collapsed on the ground.

The bartender sighed and, clinking the fresh, new gold in his pocket, had a
customer who didn't look far off from the stranger's condition drag the
collapsed man to the side with all the other wounded or drunk men, whereupon
the man dropped the stranger and, after a moment, collapsed himself.

*Yes* the bartender thought, *we definitely need more giant robots around
here.*