A group of three odd characters living in Balfonheim port. They deeply respect Reddas and work as his hands and feet. This trio is said to be the fastest bunch in the port's famous pirate olympics; the footrace.
Rikken
Bandage on his face, chains on his wrist, and tattoos* on his body...Despite Rikken's frightening appearance, he is a friendly and understanding person, the leader of the trio, and claims to be the fastest runner in Balfonheim.
Elza
A woman of great style, she wears revealing clothes. Headstrong and irritable, she doesn't trust anyone other than Reddas, Rikken and Raz, naturally she is suspicious of strangers like Vaan and co.
Raz
Raz is a very tiny male Bangaa with a peculiar hat and a parrot on his head. He likes to look at people's features to see if they have good or bad intentions, but Elza claims his observations are always wrong. Raz has a habit of saying "-ssu" at the end of his dialogue in the Japanese version of the game.
translator's note:
Rikken's tattoos are called irezumi (入れ墨) which refers to a distinctive style of Japanese tattooing. Irezumi is practiced with traditional tools unlike western tattoo machine; the process of being tattooed in the irezumi style can be difficult and time-consuming. Irezumi artists are also secretive, as tattoos are still seen as a sign of criminality and delinquency in Japan.
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OC...I loved my teen aged werewolf baby Rikken so much I had to draw him. I wish I was better at drawing! I didn’t do him justice! He’s going to be so happy with the pack!
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From Balthier's vantage point, he could see Rikken leading people in the traditional footrace; but Elza was up there with him, lighting a prepared torch.
The Port of Balfonheim sprawled out around them on all sides. He could see pirates passing around a pilfered bottle of Bhujerban madhu, while others yet were wrestling within a ring of onlookers. A group of moogles was dancing in the streets, receiving coins tossed into a cap they'd stolen from some seeq. Children were fencing with wooden swords, and laundry whipped around its line in the winds. Rowdy, mad, but safe—still honoring the will of their departed Pirate-King.
He'd hated this place for a time. Not like Archades, but all the same. But now...
The rooftop torch burned green, then yellow, before collapsing into a more traditional flame. Elza wiped her hands and stood beside him, swelled with pride of her home. “What would you all do,” he asked as offhand as he could manage, “Were it all gone tomorrow?”
“We'd take to the skies.”
“And if the skies were gone as well?” Balthier inspected his shirt cuff, didn't look her in the eye.
Elza laughed. “If the skies were gone, there'd be no world to speak of, would there?”
“I wonder.” Elza waved and left him alone on the roof, and he sat, knowing the wait would be long.
And long it was. The hours passed, and Balthier barely moved. It was the longest he'd stayed still in his time since leaving the judge's life behind. But if life after the Cataclysm had taught him anything, it was patience. He pulled a bag of dried fruit from a pocket and fished through it, watched lines being cast from docks, watched ships take off into the sky. Crowds turned their heads to see a viera pass (not his); vendors called out their wares; the sun began to set, and one by one the houses lit up their windows, a constellation of souls who'd sought freedom and found roots instead.
His teeth snapped through a disk of something grown in the Salikawood whose name he couldn't recall.
Night had come by the time his summons was answered. The red shape moved sharply through the sky at strange angles, like a will'o'wisp. The air spun about as he swooped in, then relaxed as he gently fluttered to a landing.
The air always felt heavier since coming back. Balthier hadn't Fran's gifts, but the Mist was easier to feel now since he'd lived in its absence for so long.
“I expected Vaan.” Llyud of the Aegyl didn't seem bothered. But then, even now, with his anima restored to him, with his emotions closer to the surface, he was still fairly opaque. “Well met, Sky Pirate Balthier.”
And what better sign of the changing times, that an aegyl would land in the den of piracy at all?
Llyud had become a sort of leader of his people in the time since Balthier and Vaan had helped them help themselves. And if many of them were still slow to trust, scars yet close to the surface, Lluyd's time with Vaan and his orphan troupe had clearly had some effect. He was in a sense their ambassador to Ivalice, and he knew that he'd visited the royal palaces each in turn at least once. Even in Rozarria—he couldn't imagine what that meeting had been like.
“I hope I haven't disappointed,” Balthier smiled, and Llyud didn't exactly smile back, but he did incline his head in a way that was warm. There was something to be said, he had to admit, for someone who didn't spill their emotions like an overturned milk pail at every opportunity.
“You are what my people might call a 'Wind-Caller,' Balthier.” Lluyd stepped beside him, so that he too could look out over the people of Balfonheim, even still a strange land to him. “You do not ride the skies, so much as the skies move to let you past, then lift you up.”
“I daresay that might be a compliment.”
“There is no higher compliment to an aegyl. I cannot speak to humes.”
“The highest compliment to a hume is to be the leading man,” Balthier offered, but his heart wasn't especially in the remark, as he pulled an envelope from his vest and handed it to Llyud.
“What is this?”
“The reason you came all this way, actually.” Balthier didn't look at him. “The fates conspire to make me the bearer of bad news.” Llyud started to open the envelope, but he shook his head. “Take it back to your people. It isn't a thing to hear alone.”
“Were you?” And Balthier had no answer for that. So instead he turned, scratching at his head, and sighed.
“You told us once that your people don't live as long as we do.” Llyud nodded. “You'll need to teach your children to be ready for something worse than what you yourselves endured.”
“The responsibility of all parents, I should think.”
Balthier laughed bitterly. “Do they call you 'Wind-Caller,' then?”
“No.” Llyud flexed his wings once and he was in the air, hovering just out of reach. “No, none of us left could be called so. But one of our children yet may, or one of theirs. And I hope it will be they who faces whatever could scare the Sky Pirate Balthier.”
Balthier shielded his eyes from the wind kicked up in Lluyd's wake. “You think you'll be more like the humes then?”
“Once, I was an outcast of my people for thinking it. But now, many more wonder.” And then the winged one was gone. As though he'd never been.
