FANCY EXPLOSIONS
Jump off the brig! Now!
{ Balthier himself slides down a rope dangling from an open window out the edge of the burning wreck of a mining scaleship. He runs down across the outer plate and slides, tilting his head to the side to avoid a piece of flying debris as he finds himself free falling for a minute, arms shooting forward to grab a chain that swings from a sand hover. Surrounded by sky and near-certain death, he uses the momentum of his lower body to keep swinging, managing to get himself on the hover, grappling at its side as he clambers on. He ducks quickly, dodging a barrage of cargo that falls out of the scaleship, hands on the steer and piloting it lower.
From a distance, he sees Fran on a stolen sand hover of her own, and he smirks, giving her a light wave. He steers back up to the cockpit of the denigrating scaleship, where the crew is about to hop out in an emergency vessel. }
No hard feelings, I do hope. It was just your misfortune that you happened to mine up this old trinket.
{ He holds up a dirty gold sigil with an old, almost faded crest embedded deep into it. }
Quite a lucky trip, really. And here I thought I'd have to muck around in the desert until I found it. You have my thanks, gentlemen. Try not to crash.
{ He grins devilishly, steering away his hover and half-ignoring the insults slurred at him as he jets off and pilots at a low altitude, switching the engines to properly hover over the desert. He whistles an old Bhujerban tune as he steers with his left hand and inspects his spoils with his right, watching the sunlight bounce off the sigil. It would fetch a pretty gil at certain academias, he's sure.
Well, it's about time to head back to the meeting point. He pulls out the radar on the hover, searching for his co-ordinates. His position confirmed, he starts to sail for the nearest Aerodrome.
... and then the steady bleating of the hover's radar dies.
Blinking, Balthier taps the radar, wondering why the screen had blanked out. Slowly, he hears an ominous sound - the deadening putter of the hover's engines. }
By Shiva, not now.
{ He quickly steers the hover with both hands, letting it glide directly on top of the sand. Eventually, the engines crackle violently and the entire hover shudders, jerking to a halt. Balthier, stares on, unimpressed at the length of desert he'd have to cross before he got back to Nalbina.
He steps out of the hover, taking his gun and the sigil, turning around and, to his surprise, discovering a collection of people. Very odd people. How strange. Perhaps a a masque was being held - oh, he remembers how dreary those were. This looked like it may be quite interesting, however. He holsters his rifle and steps off the sand hover. }
What peculiar clothing. I don't think I've seen anything of this sort in Ivalice.
((Balthier from FFXII. Everything's just a whole bunch of bull on my end, so... XD YAY DRAMATIC ENTRANCE. It just had to be done. He's such a queen.))
{ Balthier himself slides down a rope dangling from an open window out the edge of the burning wreck of a mining scaleship. He runs down across the outer plate and slides, tilting his head to the side to avoid a piece of flying debris as he finds himself free falling for a minute, arms shooting forward to grab a chain that swings from a sand hover. Surrounded by sky and near-certain death, he uses the momentum of his lower body to keep swinging, managing to get himself on the hover, grappling at its side as he clambers on. He ducks quickly, dodging a barrage of cargo that falls out of the scaleship, hands on the steer and piloting it lower.
From a distance, he sees Fran on a stolen sand hover of her own, and he smirks, giving her a light wave. He steers back up to the cockpit of the denigrating scaleship, where the crew is about to hop out in an emergency vessel. }
No hard feelings, I do hope. It was just your misfortune that you happened to mine up this old trinket.
{ He holds up a dirty gold sigil with an old, almost faded crest embedded deep into it. }
Quite a lucky trip, really. And here I thought I'd have to muck around in the desert until I found it. You have my thanks, gentlemen. Try not to crash.
{ He grins devilishly, steering away his hover and half-ignoring the insults slurred at him as he jets off and pilots at a low altitude, switching the engines to properly hover over the desert. He whistles an old Bhujerban tune as he steers with his left hand and inspects his spoils with his right, watching the sunlight bounce off the sigil. It would fetch a pretty gil at certain academias, he's sure.
Well, it's about time to head back to the meeting point. He pulls out the radar on the hover, searching for his co-ordinates. His position confirmed, he starts to sail for the nearest Aerodrome.
... and then the steady bleating of the hover's radar dies.
Blinking, Balthier taps the radar, wondering why the screen had blanked out. Slowly, he hears an ominous sound - the deadening putter of the hover's engines. }
By Shiva, not now.
{ He quickly steers the hover with both hands, letting it glide directly on top of the sand. Eventually, the engines crackle violently and the entire hover shudders, jerking to a halt. Balthier, stares on, unimpressed at the length of desert he'd have to cross before he got back to Nalbina.
He steps out of the hover, taking his gun and the sigil, turning around and, to his surprise, discovering a collection of people. Very odd people. How strange. Perhaps a a masque was being held - oh, he remembers how dreary those were. This looked like it may be quite interesting, however. He holsters his rifle and steps off the sand hover. }
What peculiar clothing. I don't think I've seen anything of this sort in Ivalice.
((Balthier from FFXII. Everything's just a whole bunch of bull on my end, so... XD YAY DRAMATIC ENTRANCE. It just had to be done. He's such a queen.))