By Lyra Zwahn
Content Warning: Action
High above the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, Abara’ku carefully placed the last bundle of heavy timbers on the top level of scaffolding. He smoothed his bright red hair with a comb from his pocket as sweat poured from his brow. It was a tough job, but it was honest pay for honest work.
Abara’ku – or simply Abara for short – and his crew were working on a building restoration job for the Ul’dahn merchants. It was all made more complicated due to the giant hornet migration. While having them buzzing overhead was unnerving, they had not caused any real problems outside of some stolen fruit. Fear of the creatures kept most crews away, but not Abara’s.
He made his way down the ladders. Coworkers chatted with him as they all gathered their lunch boxes and extra bottles of cactuar juice. It wasn’t the best-tasting drink, but it worked wonders for staying hydrated in the desert sun. He went through many bottles in the blazing heat every day.
With his jacket tied around his waist, Abara strolled down the alley to his hostel. The air was starting to cool nicely for the evening. On his way, he noticed a Hyur toddler standing alone outside one of the doors. Her blonde hair draped down over her face and hands as she wept.
“Now, now… What’s wrong, lass?” Abara asked gently; he kneeled to talk to her.
The child rubbed her dirty face. Tears smeared dirt under her green eyes. “My gramma’,” she hiccupped, “she’s … sick.”
“Sick, aye?” Abara looked up and down the street, which was weirdly empty. “Well, where she be? Can I see ‘er?”
The girl nodded and turned to pull the heavy door open. She leaned all the way back and barely got it to move, so Abara reached up and gave it a little help.
Inside, the hovel was dark and messy. Light shone through windows in beams that highlighted dust floating in the air. The place was disheveled; toys and dishes lay about on every surface. The air was hot and stale. Abara glanced over to the sorely inadequate bed the little girl used for sleeping.
“Gramma!?” the girl called. “I gots a doctor-man,” she added.
“Woah, lass, I’m not a doctor. I’m a laborer,” Abara tried to explain.
“Oh, a doctor?” a weak voice rasped from a bed in the corner. The old woman could barely lift her head to see the two walking in through the home.
Abara stepped over litter on the floor with his hands up, “Look, I’m not a doctor, but…” He looked at the old woman, and he immediately saw she was overheated but not sweating. Her face was very red. Abara knew those symptoms well; she was clearly dehydrated and experiencing heat stroke.
“Uh, ‘ere… Drink this, okay?” Abara said as he lifted his lunch box to draw out a vial of cactuar juice from deep inside. He popped the cork and handed it to the old woman who could barely grasp it.
The little girl peered into the lunch box, and Abara noticed her hungry stare, “Oh, hungry, are yah?” he asked the little girl, who nodded. Abara picked up his half-eaten salmon muffin and started to rip off the chewed end.
Before he could make progress, the little girl snatched the whole thing from his grip and started to gnaw at it. “Woah, easy lass! You’re a starved little mongrel!” he chuckled.
“Forgive me,” the old lady whispered, “we haven’t the coin for meals.” She nearly spilled the hydrating liquid on her chin, but Abara helped her tip it securely to drink. “I have neglected the poor child,” she admitted in shame.
“Nah! You’re doin’ fine!” Abara offered in support. He extended his arms to gesture to the ransacked home, but the gesture fell a bit flat as he looked around. His smile dropped to a frown, “Look, I got time. Maybe I can help a bit, eh?”
…
The sun sank lower in the sky as the bulky Roegadyn collected dirty flagons and plates. He sorted bits of clothes and toys and picked up whatever else was strewn about. Eventually, the child helped gather items too, and it wasn’t long before he needed to light the lanterns.
Abara even took a moment to shore up the grandmother’s leaning bed while she still lay on it, much to her gleeful surprise. He pulled a clean blanket down from an overhead storage and unfurled it to improve the child’s bedding.
Before long, the home looked far more respectable, and he and the little girl stood to admire their handiwork. He patted her on the head, and the grandmother sat up in bed, smiling at the changes. Her arthritic hands shook as she tried to open a second bottle of cactuar juice.
There was a ruckus outside.
A small band of very stylish adventurers loitered in the street while pedestrians gathered around. A rogue in a svelte suit tossed a knife to the amusement of the crowd. Beside her, an Elezen white mage brushed his long platinum hair, and a red mage in a bowler hat and lacey shirt cleared his throat.
“Lend me your ears, my coolest croeuls!” the red mage asked with a wide smile.
The little girl held Abara’s index finger as they worked their way through the crowd to a spot in the front. She dragged her worn, stuffed Goobbue close behind.
“So grand! Hear me, for we are … the Nimble Few, and we seek an adventurer to join our ranks,” he shouted to the excited crowd. “Adventure and riches await you, dig?”
“Adventures and riches!?” Abara barked out loud. The thought overwhelmed him.
“Yes!” the leader replied. “But are you a cool croeul? Do you have what it takes?” His metered speech prefaced the flourish of his gold-trimmed rapier.
“Aye! I do!” Abara barked and puffed out his chest in pride.
“Well, well! What, pray tell, are your … exceptional abilities?”
“I’m a laborer!”
The group froze, and everyone burst into laughter. Clearly, they were expecting an adventurer’s skill. Seeing this, Abara had to think fast. “And a tank!” he lied. He’d seen no more than fistfights back in Limsa.
“Ooh! Did I hear you say … tank?” the group stopped laughing; their interest was piqued. While quite flashy and pompous, they were clearly skilled, and their ranks lacked someone with defensive abilities.
“A tank, aye!” Abara flexed his impressively muscular arms, trained from years of lifting massive beams and trusses on job sites. This seemed to convince them well enough.
“Ooh, you got the hair, and you got the strength!” the red mage proclaimed with a clap. His group nodded in agreement. “What’s your name, croeul?”
“Abara’ku Bherkman, the third!” he replied triumphantly. “I hail from a long line o’ Maelstrom captains. Me pappy named me after me grandfather who was a captain o’ the Maelstrom!”
“Oh, that is … one hells of a name,” the leader said in surprise. “How about we call you … Tank Daddy? Ooh yeah, now that sounds like music to my ears, dig?”
Abara, or rather “Tank Daddy,” was taken aback.
However, the crowd cheered; they seemed to love it. The little girl cheered in confusion and tossed her stuffed toy into the air by accident.
Just then, an especially giant, huge hornet swooped curiously low and snagged the toy on a jagged mandible. It buzzed down the alley erratically, knocking booth canopies apart.
“My Goobbie!” the child wailed in shock.
The crowd scattered for cover. Abara looked up to see the monster reach the end of the alley and double-back. It wobbled about with the toy in its mouth, and without a second thought, Abara mindlessly jumped onto the beast when it closed in. It soared upward into the evening sky with him in tow.
The grandmother limped outside just to see the events unfold. “He’s so brave!” she gasped.
Abara screamed in fear as the creature whipped about in mid-air, ”I wish I’d thought this through!” Just as he was convinced he would die, he saw it not far away – the scaffolding! In panic, he wrenched the creature’s head from side-to-side to steer while dodging attacks from its jagged stinger. It worked surprisingly well, but the creature’s endurance waned. They went into a steep dive, and he continued to scream as the structure became larger and larger far too quickly!
With a crash, Abara and the monster burst through the top of the scaffolding. The impact brought the entire section down on top of them, and the crowd ran over in disbelief while the timbers continued to tumble to the ground. Everything went quiet, and they all looked at the pile of destruction in shock.
A hand burst up through the debris while holding the stuffed Goobbue.
…
Abara sat in a daze while the glamorous healer finished his work.Abara’s
Abara’s hands were wrapped in linen, and he had a crossed bandage on his forehead. He stared into the distance as the little girl and her grandmother slowly approached. Even the thaumaturges had come out to see what all the noise was.
“Thank you for getting my Goobbie back, Mister Tank!” the little girl said.
Abara smiled weakly and offered her a bandaged thumbs-up.
“My coolest croeul, you are a tank of tanks!” the red mage shouted. “We set off in the morn for adventure, dig?” he said with another clap. His comrades nodded in approval.
Abara looked down at his bandaged hands and then over to the child and her grandmother. They stood there together on the emptying street.
They smiled at him warmly, and Abara smiled back.
“Nah, I think I’ll stay right ‘ere,” he replied.
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Zwahn Tales 