"Yna oui nayto... Lunhamm?" Spoke the voice through a steel piped rebreather, an Behodl like himself, folding his arms, the Behodl's back rested comfortably against the back of the ships engine walls, resting up for the big festival games, eager to see what the match ups were going to be like. Lunhamm, who was sitting down on the ground meditating, legs crossed, gave a single nod, and spoke back to his friend.

"Oac. Fedr ymm e'ja maynhat cu vyn, e's landyeh e'mm pa ypma du bnudald ic tinehk dra kysac." Lunhamm directed back at him, a comforting smile pressed on his expression, eager to protect his friends during the tournament, he indeed was ready to give the viewers a good watch for their money, and make ever al-bhed- no, every Behodl proud of their original name, the large Behodl standing up onto his feet, stretching and flexing his arms determined.


"Famm... Huf dryd fa yna ymsucd rana, madc ku knaad dra vyhc...! Cruf dras y dnia behodl's cdnahkdr!" He boomed excitedly with a deep rumbling roar, laughing with all his heart, as did his friend, both of them taking their leave from their ships quiet spot, feeling the latitude of their ship decrease as it made its port calmly(pun) onto the calm lands, the echo of cheers and screams of joy could be heard, muffled through the interior of the ship.

"Drao cuiht suna tadansehat dryh oui tu...!" Jested Lunhamms blitzball ally, both of them giving a grin to one another as they went to greet the other players, and upon exchanging greetings, the doors to their airship immediately unlocked, allowing the Psyches to walk out, and greet the open air with a cheer of confidence as each player descended the steps of their grand ship, greeting the hundreds if not thousands of Spirian citizens, thankfully held back by security cheering their favourite teams, as no doubt other ships from rival teams would be making their docking as well, Lunhamm heading towards the stadium, which had been transported to the calm lands fairly recently to celebrate the defeat of sin.

This could be a great day for all Behodl's... Lunhamm thought to himself.

---

---

The Calm Lands

Docking Area: Al-Bhed Psyches

---

The crowd waiting outside of this particular dock was a rather large one, consisting of mostly Al-Bhed. And it would take but only one look at the ship pulling down to see why. The Al-Bhed Psyches had just arrived. The crowd seemed to get more and more excited the closer the ship got. And when it finally pulled to a stop, and the doors rose, the fans lost their collective shit. One after another, the blitzball stars strolled out of the ship, each one earning a hearty greeting from the loyal sports fans.

rustle rustle

But there was one who hadn’t quite gotten swept up into the frenzy just yet. Little Durren stood watching what appeared to be just a large pile of fruit on the back of a cart. The cart had been tucked off of the main path ever so slightly. A small Hypello stood nearby, barking at passerbys to try Ruppa’s Delicious Oranges. The small round fruits did look delicious...but they weren’t what Durren was focusing on.

rustle rustle rustle

It was the furry red ball bobbing up and down that drew the child’s eye.

rustle rustle

Durren shot a look back at the Hypello. He seemed preoccupied by the hubbub going on over by the docks. Perfect. All he had to do was quickly snatch the ball, and he’d get away scott free. The child looked first at the furry ball, then once more towards the cart’s owner before simply diving for it. A single hand shot out and his fingers curled around the surprisingly soft...thingy. Now all he had to do was run. But...it was attached to something. A black...wire-like thing. The boy gave it a small tug an-

“KU-PHEH!! Hands OFF the pom-pom, kupo!”

The boy let out a surprised yelp as he let go of the red ball and tumbled backwards. The fruits stacked up high on the cart began to tumble down, the haphazard pyramid being destroyed by something within moving. The boy trembled, terrified of what was emerging from the orange stack.

“Didn’t anybody ever teach ya not to-”

The fluffy white cat-like creature stretched out it’s leathery wings and gave them a flap or two as it spoke, but it never got a chance to finish what it was saying. Or perhaps it did. Durren would never know for sure, for as the creature was scolding him, a nearly inhuman screech sounded out from nearby. The boy tore his eyes off the fruit monster despite his terror, just in time to see the blue-skinned frogman racing towards the cart, arms waving wildly.

“NOOO! Shtop! Ze fruitsh! Ze fruitz! Impossibibble!”

The little boy, even more spooked by the Hypello’s frantic reaction, scrambled to his feet and beat a hasty exit. The owner of the fruit paid him no mind. He was much too focused on his cart and the fruit now spread out over the ground. He fell to the ground, scooping up as much fruit as possible.

“Why?! WHY?! OoooOoooh nos! I’m ruined!”

The little creature standing atop the ruins of the Hypello’s fruit empire gave a little shake of his booty and threw up his arms to stretch away the slumber. The kid ran off, but Mogryo wasn’t sure why. Hopefully he learned his lesson about pulling strangers’ pom-poms without their consent. Rude. Bah, but Mogryo wasn’t about to let that ruin such a beautiful day.

And it truly was a beautiful day. The sun was high over the Calm Lands, but it wasn’t too hot. On the contrary, the weather felt perfect. Well...unless you were covered head to toe in fur. Beautiful and silky smooth as it may be, fur and the heat did not get along well. Which is precisely why Mogryo decided to burrow into the stack of fruit for a quick nap. A little bit of shade, food literally all around him. It wasn’t a bad set up, really.

The little moogle bounced off the cart and landed softly. He even stuck the landing. After giving a quick tug at the strap across his chest, holding his bag o’ stuff neatly behind him, Mogryo threw his arms out wide, like wings, and walked one foot in front of the other over a crack in the pavement, passing a now wailing, devastated Hypello. Not that the moogle picked up on the frogman’s sadness. They spoke funny, so Mogryo honestly thought the man was just playing around.

Oh well.

The walking ball of fluff walked away whistling a cheerful tune.

It wasn’t long before the moogle came across the crowd of folks cheering for...something. Mogryo found himself curious, but with his stumpy little legs, there was no chance of him seeing past the giants in front of him. But luckily, moogles had wings! Not very strong wings, mind you, but they worked well enough in very short bursts. He couldn’t sustain it very long but…

KUPO!

Mogryo spotted a series of crates stacked just high enough to easily let him see what the hubbub was all about. The moogles straightened his strap and tugged softly at the tuff of fur on his chest. And then he crouched slightly, gave his widdle booty a shake for good luck, and launched himself upwards. His jump was...less than impressive, but it was all he needed. His tiny wings began beating at the air rapidly, causing him to gain some extra lift. Giving his all, the little guy made his way towards the boxes. As the furry bat-cat took flight, he drew the attention of some confused folks who were just passing by, but they quickly dismissed it as just a toy of some sorts and continued on their way. Mogryo never noticed. He was much too focused on getting to his landing spot.

He slowly grew closer to it…

But he wasn’t high enough.

Mogryo doubled up his efforts, pushing his tiny wings as hard as he could.

It wasn’t enough.

Determined not to be beaten, he gave it some more.

It still wasn’t enough...but…

Mogryo extended his arm fully, reaching...reaching…

SUCCESS!

After his paw landed on top of the highest wooden crate, Mogryo began to pull himself up, tiny wings still flapping at Mach 5. He struggled...but it paid off. He managed to get another paw up and with that he was able to pull himself fully onto his throne. The moogle rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, panting. That was too much of a workout. He was all tuckered out already. He briefly considered laying off on the kupo nuts...but that madness quickly passed. It was replaced by the temptation to take a nice nap up high.

He almost gave into it, but his curiosity came back and won in the end.

Mogryo pulled himself into a sitting position just in time to see some folks in flashy looking clothing strolling past. They were...quite close, honestly. The crates ended up being a bit closer to the main path that he would have thought. “Ku...po?” the tiny creature mumbled as it tilted its head, his eyes never leaving the important folks. One in particular caught his eye. It was a larger man. There wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary about him really, but…

Mogryo leaned his head the other way now, still watching.

...the eye-thingies the guy was wearing looked nifty.

REAL nifty.

"Two hundred gil!" The Al Bhed merchant spat from yellow teeth. The male stank of fermented fruit and someone else's sweat. He blinked behind thick, bottle-bottom goggle lenses. Solgun's tailed flicked back and forth like a riled snake.

"One thousand." The Al Bhed reached for the scraps quickly, but not quickly enough and a clawed hand yanked the machina back off the counter. Solgun showed his teeth and the merchant flinched back into his stall. He knew if the Al Bhed got his hands on the scrap before money changed hands, he'd try to break it and then claim Solgun was selling faulty goods, then act like he was doing Solgun a favour for offering fifty gil. Or call him a thief trying to steal the merchant's scrap. Al Bhed as a whole were tricky, but their merchants could be real fiends.

"<<Stinking beast>>" The Al Bhed switched to his native language, then back to Spiran. "Where's it from?"

"Battle of Djose, where your people's machina weapon failed." Solgun held up the weapon to the light, smacked it on the side a few times and the lights began to shine. It looked like a smaller, handheld version of one of the weapons that had been intended to hold back a legendary beast. Even after all these years it still worked.

"Feh, Djose. Every scrap hunter goes to Djose." The merchant waved his hand through the air like wafting off a bad smell. He was trying to haggle it down, Solgun knew, acting like it was something that the other relic hunters would have passed up as not worth the risk. The fact was that Djose was still extremely dangerous territory centuries after the battle, especially now that fiends were really coming back strong. Even the land worked against you, so many hidden holes and sudden currents. One wrong foot could lead to your death. Only someone with sure fingers and a knack for climbing could get safely into the really lucrative parts.

"One thousand. Or it goes elsewhere." Solgun's voice rumbled.

"Ehh.." The merchant tilted his head to the left and sucked his teeth, glancing over Solgun's shoulder to the mesh net that contained the rest of his wares for selling. "One thousand IF you throw those actuators."

Solgun's paw dwarfed the merchant's hand and they left happy with the bargain they had struck. He hefted his bag of scrap and paced through the merchants of the bazaar, head and shoulders above the Spirans, Al Bheds and Hypello. The celebration had drawn merchants out of the woodwork like louses and every sort of stall imaginable had been set up, with vendors selling colourful foods and fragrant spices to merchants haggling over weapons and cattle and stranger things still. Some idiot had brought a shoopuff to set up for riding, but there wasn't a large enough water source for the shoofpuff to drink around here so barrels were being rolled in constantly. Solgun stopped and watched the creature pant in the midday sun, waggling unevenly as it took steps, causing the passengers in the seats on the back no end of distress. Airships coming in to dock, land-trains still bringing in dozens of people. As if there weren't enough already packed into this place.

As he moved from one vendor to the next, he caught a glimpse of blue fur in the crowd. Another Ronso? The Calm Lands were close to Gagazet, but still.. He pushed on, past a crowd of young children and then saw the trail of pyreflies gliding lazily through the air. He was here, the ancient spirit. Tall, thin, like he had been gripped by the head and pulled skywards by an invisible hand, the spectre motioned silently, raising one spindly limb and pointing over towards the airship docks..