Hobo Wisdom

Hobo Wisdom
Date of Scene:	03 April 2013
Location:	Chinese Countryside
Synopsis:	In the aftermath of Royce's attack, Will and Ramza have a talk.
Cast of Characters:	Will Sherman, Ramza Beoulve

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Ramza Beoulve has posed:
Morning after the battle.

Camp had been set the night before, tents were pitched. A fire pit and mess area were built. Will would awaken in a larger tent set up for the camp's white mage, Sheryl, to serve as a treatment area. He'd be covered by a blanket and stripped entirely of his clothes, and most of his wounds would be healed to the point where the only signs that they ever existed were various aches and pains. If Sheryl found anything unusual about Will in her treatment of him, she didn't mention it to anyone. She tended to be a rather circumspect individual and mindful of people's secrets. When he awakened, he'd find his clothes washed, and folded in a pile beside him. Apparently she had no idea that Will /preferred/ to be filthy, else she wouldn't have bothered.

As for Ramza, he'd be seated by the firepit, drawing upon a map with a ballpoint pen. Apparently modern conveniences were beginning to catch on with him.

A man in black mage robes named Gerad was cooking today, and the smell of coney meat boiled into a stew of potatoes and vegetables wafted throughout the camp. He'd decided a different take on Artemis' broiling of them.

Will Sherman has posed:
Will...WAS quite strange.

The white magic works, but it also...seems resistant to him. Sometimes spells just failed, OTHERS there was even a feedback. Nothing harmfull, but it was just...odd. However, she would be able to get enough of the healing on him to make it effective, and indirect effects work just fine.

Will wakes up...realizing he was pretty naked, and wrapped in furs and stuff. Huh...this was...not something he had done for a very long time. He grabs his clothes...which were clean. Oh well...he can deal with that, not like they didn't need to get cleaned EVENTUALLY...he places the hat back on his head, becoming the hobo king again, and slips outside.

He'd been out a while, it seems...he feels the scars from this one too. They'd be gone eventually, scars never seemed to last on him long...he was a pretty static thing, while a world around him changes. He would stay in it...forever.

He walks up to the firepit, "I guess I owe you guys for the save."

Ramza Beoulve has posed:
Sheryl was good at keeping secrets. She didn't even comment on Will's resistance to her magic to anyone. Had /none/ of her spells worked, she might have consulted Ramza, who also possessed some skill at White Magic. But they did, and so she hadn't. She was also one of the few that knew that Evja wasn't /female/ for example, but hadn't divulged that to anyone.

Ramza looked up the map, folding it, and putting it away in a leather satchel. He'd give Will an amicable smile. "You'd have done the same for us. I don't tend to place anyone in my debt." He'd motion for him to have a seat. Gared would portion out the stew in a wooden bowl, handing it to Will with a rustic sort of spoon. It may have seemed like an odd sort of breakfast, but on the trail they ate what they could, when they could. And since Artemis had a fondness for hunting, rabbit was on the menu frequently as of late.

Ramza would gesture towards a breathtaking mountain range in the distance. "Welcome to the Land of Dragons by the way. My company has a great fondness for this land as of late. That and a peculiar country known as France."

Gared would give Ramza a bowl as well, and he'd begin eat it at a steady pace, on occasion even slurping from it. He didn't seem to care about propriety all that much when on the road.

And then it came time to speak of more than idle pleasantries. "Do you know aught of that Witch that we fought in the Sabil Mountains?"

Will Sherman has posed:
Will takes the bowl and starts eating. He likes the view of the mountains...it reminds him of home. His first home...

Not that it was ON one, but they were in sight of them. Before Manhattan...

It brings a soft smile to his face, "Yes, I know the land. Ping comes form here, a man's man. He's a great guy." he continues, eating quite for a bit...France. "We have a france where we come from too, this one seems...older though. Back in our past, even before I was Will..." he says, "I met someone from there...lady with a brilliant aura of light. She stopped into Manhattan, I did her a favor and ate her fast food. Poor lady was eating from a McDonalds!" he says, shaking his head.

"Sort of." he says, to his question, and he grows more quiet. Thinking, "She, I fear, is connected to the same things I am. But also...I think, she is controled by another force. A book, grimmore or something..." he says, "We also met, for the first time, in a swamp...and put me down like before." he looks distant, still eating, "We are strongly connected by a single strand of fate."

Ramza Beoulve has posed:
He'd actually grin. "I know Ser Ping, he escorted me around here not long ago when Shiki and I sought to restore part of a fallen world. He's a good man, though he can be confounding at times." The young man still wondered what Ping meant by describing him as handsome. Must have been a mistranslation.

He'd stroke his chin when Will spoke of France. "Really? Fascinating. You know, France is not unlike my world, Ivalice, in many ways." He considers Will's words in regards to the Lady with the aura of light. "If you see her again, warn her of a Dark Knight that is seeking the light. And I've seen this McDonalds before, when I visited Manhatten briefly, though if its repast is so terrible, then why did you eat it?" His eyes became alight with amusement as he spoke to him of that.

And then the subject of Royce put a sour taste in his mouth, as he sat aside the bowl of stew. "I fear that she may be seeking Auracite, Will. And given her power, if one of the Lucavi were to possess her, or worse, that she would be able to hold dominion over one of them.. that possibility seems too horrific for words."

He'd unfold the map, showing Will a tracing of movement, mostly in arrows upon it. "We were following the Dark Knight I spoke of, we encountered him in Fluorgis, where he sought to put us to some grisly test. I don't know the purpose of it, but it seems as if he is trying to test the strength of the light and the darkness both. His airship led us here..." He taps a finger towards the Sabil Mountain range. "...a location which was all too familiar to us. We lost him around that point, and found the Witch instead."

And then a frown touched his expression. "We'd been to those mountains only recently. By chance, there was an army there, led by a Templar named Louis. He is Artemis' brother, and the murderer of their Father. Faruja was there as well, and harried us on the back of his wyvern. We were forced to flee, but now I wonder. It was far enough from Mullonde that it makes no sense for an army to be there. So what were they searching for?"

Will Sherman has posed:
Will listens...he does not immediately say anything. He simply listens, and watches the map as it is pulled out, things pointed to. "Cheap, cheap and has a good group of promoters." Will explains. "And it is...similar in timeframe, you guys have magic, however...magic in my world is...strange." he says, but he doesn't elaberate more than that.

"It could be? I don't know her personally... It might not be a stone either, who knows...but whatever it is, the Church wants it. And it seems that it's in that area...And the woman was harrasing the priest before we got there..."

"I didn't get a chance to look around...maybe if I saw one of these Zodiac stones, I might be able to trace it if it's in an area. My eyes are a bit...special." Will shrugs, and decides to explain. "I don't see things like you do, Ramza. When my eyes look on items...I see threads. Strings if you will, lines of fate. Not fate in the way you might think of it...for there is no such thing. Fate in that sense is just what people tell themselves when they fail. Fate is something really different...and everyone makes their own. The connections between people, their ties to the world, and sometimes if they are more than human."

Ramza Beoulve has posed:
"Magic still seems passing strange to myself. I'm a poor man's mage, in truth. My magic typically needs a mundane boost to pull it off."

He shrugs his shoulders briefly. "I don't know, I just don't know what other sorts of treasures the Church might have in a vault that she's looking for."

The man would sigh at that point, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I used to possess two of them, but they were lost when my sister fell into darkness."

He'd listen to Will's explanation. He'd give him an introspective look. "As I told a vile man named the mirror master, I make my own fate, so your explanation isn't all strange. Your sight seems like it would be both a boon, and a curse, Ser. And so these stones, your sight could act as a compass, if we found one?"

Will Sherman has posed:
"Maybe. Once I know what I am looking for." Will says, shrugging, "It's possible, if the stones are as important as you say they are." Will nods.

"Yes. It is. Both of those things at once." Will says. "I try to use it to benift people, the best that I can. But with it, sometimes I can miss the obvious...it is sight after all, it can be fooled, blocked, or just plain unable to figure out what I see." Will explains.

It is times like these, the boy is sullen...and he just FEELS so old. It's manorisms, how he holds himself...the look in his eyes. These are not someone his age should be like, but for that moment, he looks so old.

It's gone, as he smiles, perhaps he's trying to just make himself push passed it, or maybe it's just a strong face. "You mentioned something called the Lucavi?"

Ramza Beoulve has posed:
He would nod. "There's no doubt about that, Ser."

He'd hold up a hand to an earpiece briefly, before giving Will a look. "A question for you, Ser. Have you ever met Artyom Valodjn outside of battle? He's contacting me with a business proposition, but I know little of the man. He's friendly enough but.."

A nod at that. "Relying on what we see too much tends to blind the best of us, Ser. When I started my first command, I was so very blind to the truth of the world. There was black and white, and naught in-between. I know better now than to rely on the misconceptions of sight." He'd smile, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "At least, I hope I do."

And then Will is silent, and he allows the man his privacy. He knew there was more to Will than met the /eye/, and this conversation was already proving it. Before, Ramza had considered Will to be some sort of wandering prophet, like in the tales of old. Wise men who live humbly because of the burden their sight puts upon them.

"The Lucavi are Archdemons from my world. The Auracite, emblazoned with the Houses of the Night Sky, are thought to be holy relics, but in truth they're conduits to them. Those who touch the stones with a lust for power in their hearts may be contacted by them. Possessed, as they walk in the form of men. Their power in their true forms is frightening, greater than most of the Shadow Lords I've encountered. And.." He'd frown. "..I have it on good authority that several Lucavi lead the Church of Glabados. The man they've accused me of murdering, was one of them."

Will Sherman has posed:
Will shakes his head, "No, I have no idea who he is, sorry." Will continues.

"Yes, you're right about that. I've seen many things over my years...human stupidity, needless death, arrogance..." Will says, "Sometimes, often, there is a lot of grey. Sometimes there isn't...but, in the end. You can only do what you think is right. In that sense...there is no right and wrong."

"Looking at you, Ramza, I can see you're a man who's had to take on the burden of leadership. You're still young, maybe it's in the blood, who knows," Will says, looking at him. "They sound similar to the Fae of my world. They are...gods, in a sense. The first race of creatures. Powerful...ageless." he says, "Sometimes capracious, sometimes merciful...but often ruled by their natures."

Will finishes, and puts the bowl down, "I am going to rest a bit longer, okay? It was good food, something about all natural food.."

"...Also, Ramza. There is a lot of evil in this world, Ramza. No matter how dark it gets, always look for the light. It will always be there, even if it's hidden." he pauses, he thinks of speaking again, and then stops. Maybe it's something on his chest...but he seems to dismiss it.

No, it wasn't the time. Ramza had enough on his plate.

Ramza Beoulve has posed:
The young man would smile at him. "You know Will, at times you sound a lot like my Father. Its the same advice he gave me on his deathbed. He told me to walk the path that I knew was right. The true path. At the time perhaps I thought he meant the right path as was expected of a member of the Beoulve family. Now, I know that he was telling me to follow my heart, no matter how difficult that journey might be."

He'd chortle a bit. "No Ser. There is nothing in my blood that determines my fate. A name, a title, blood? It means naught. One's /actions/ are what define us."

He'd nod at that. "They might be similar in terms of their puissance and power, but there is no mercy in them, and their actions do not seem capricious. They are wholly vile, and in the pursuit of some purpose that eludes me. Perhaps to conquer the world, or it could be to watch it burn. I cannot say."

The young man would nod. "Where are my manners? Of course you should rest. The battle against the Witch was taxing. You're welcome to stay with us as long as you like." He'd lean over, whispering conspiratorially to Will. "Sheryl is a fine lady, but I recommend that if you see her cooking the evening repast that you steer clear. It tends to vex the bowels."

And then upon light and darkness. The young man would smile sadly. "I always try to remain optimistic, Will. It is all that keeps me going. I'm nothing special. I'm just one man who sees a lot of evil in this world, and can't stand idly by and watch innocent lives be consumed by it. No matter how dark this world might seem, there is always light. My light, is that someday I will see my sister again. Even if she is naught but a flickering candle flame sitting in an endless umbra, I will find that light."