Soulz

[RyaikenDune]

Can you believe I posted this thread in Bijou first by mistake... sighs..

Anyway, I'm bored of Destiny for nao so I decided to make a new fan-fiction. This one's waaaay more complicated tho but I've got some pretty good ideas about including:
1. Tricksters.
2. Guild Politics, Orange weapons etc.
3. ANOTHER DIMENSION THINGY. (Cool)
4. Erotic Literature. (Kay maybe not D: )
5. Cooler stuff.

Obviously this is less thought out than Destiny, which could be seen, from the very beginning, to follow an anime-esque progression of "episodes" and "incidents". This is more liek an actual story C: so wootsauce.

Things that'll still be there:
1. Cool characters.
2. Me writing it.

So whatever temme if you like it. Here's the first post of the first chapter below.

[RyaikenDune]

Chapter 1


An extract from the Diary of Chancellor Gerard Pallinius of The Royal Guild Alliance, former Guild Master of [Harpoonia].

We first became aware of the existence of Feria three months ago. Within the week, leading philosophers from every guild of the Royal Alliance had already begun to peer across the Dimensional Curtain that separated our worlds and into the murky depths of the unknown. What we saw amazed us. Another plane of existence, a whole separate reality floating milimeters from our own. We named this new plane Feria, and our own, Isya.

And so the months passed excitedly by, as our philosophers refined their measurements. As the dull shades from beyond the arcane lens grew steadily sharper. As a cloudy, overcast sky emerged from the swirling mass of indigo and grey. We saw forests of huge, sky-scraping constructions, the tallest of which loomed up, higher than anything we had ever dared to fathom and grazed the very clouds themselves. Feria was truly a land of wonder.

But it was then that we began to notice. Slowly at first, but gradually it became clear to all involved. No, the precision of our measurements had not been increasing. Rather our worlds... our planes of existence... were drawing closer, set on a terrifying collision course that will destroy both Feria and Isya entirely. There is only a few months left. Naturally this information has been kept safe from the public. The citizens of the Royal Alliance must not know, at any cost, the dangers that we face.

Furthermore, two days ago, our philosophers observed a sizeable disturbance in the Dimensional Curtain, emanating form beyond the boundaries of the Alliance and out in the far reaches of the Abyss, not far from where the rebel guild, [Constansia] is known to be active. It is my deep and inconsolable fear that the powerful Warlock, Belgar, master of [Constansia] has also detected the existence of Feria and has begun experiments of his own. For if there is one man in all of Isya that the Alliance truly fears, it is undoubtedly him.

The reconnaissance team that was immedeately dispatched has yet to return. I fear for the wors-

The ghost of a knock rang faintly through the dimly lit study. The Chancellor glanced up from his writing with a start. A page and a half, he thought. It certainly felt longer than that. These memoirs were going to be more difficult than he had expected.

“Enter,” said the Chancellor softly. The ornate oak door of his office creaked open in reply to reveal the rather imposing frame of General Eustace Bardashe of the Royal Army. Former Guild Master of [Vengance]. A close friend, even from the days before the Alliance had come to power, back when Isya had comprised a thousand perpetually squabbling guilds. “Good evening, General,” he said, quickly. “If you could kindly close the door behind you.”

The General obliged. He ran his hand along the crew cut of his hair absent-mindedly. The Chancellor did not offer him a seat. He knew the General would refuse, as always, on the grounds that his heavy Knight’s armor made it rather difficult to recline in an arm-chair.

“I have good news,” said the Knight, “Bad news, and perplexing news.”

The Chancellor nodded.

“The good news is that your plans for the Wand of Khoolin are proceeding without a hitch. Its powers are readily adapting to Master Hector-” he glanced momentarily to the window where the faint red halo of the study lights bled out and into the deep starless night. Then back the Chancellor, “-Master Hector’s body. Just as you hoped.

“Now for the Bad news. The surveillance party we sent out has returned. Four men short.”

“Four men!” cried the Chancellor, his heavily wrinkled face growing taut with astonishment, “All but one! This must be the work of Bel-”

“No,” interrupted the General, stoically, “Not Belgar. It is… Gerard, it is Kenneth, the custodian of Princess Arilyne. Kenneth Dragontayl who went missing two days ago. They found him, at the source of the disturbance, trying, it seems, to tear a hole in the Dimensional Curtain.”

“Tear a hole?” murmured the Chancellor dumbly. A single man? On his own? They said he was talented…but…“That’s impossible,” he said finally.

“Exactly,” affirmed the General, “it was a trap. He baited us; he made us send our men in after him. He used their… he used their souls to cut through the Curtain.”

Their souls, thought the Chancellor. So this is what he was capable of… this Kenneth Dragontayl. He had deserted the Alliance. He had deserted his Princess. Why? Motiveless treachery, said the Chancellor to himself, is no treachery at all. The General was right, it certainly was perplexing.

“If that is all, Gerard,” said the Knight, “I shall take my leave now.”

The Chancellor did not reply. From somewhere beyond the haze of confusion that had blossomed in the folds of his mind, he heard the faint creak of his study door. Out through the window, he stared, and into the night. Kenneth Dragontayl....Custodian of the Princess…their souls.

Kenneth Dragontayl, he began to write, the warrior who uses both a sword and a claw. What an interesting turn of events indeed.

[Daevor]

Okay, I tried to read the first chapter, but my eyes kept blurring over, and somewhere in the second paragraph I went blind (or so it felt). Please, please, please can you change the font and/or font size? I'd love to read the story once it's, well, readable.

~~Daevor, The Devoted

ps: sorry, I don't mean any offense by this

[RyaikenDune]

Oops hahaha

[Daevor]

Okay, comments:

1. Grammar and spelling. I suspect you didn't do much proof-reading.

2. There are a lot of components (people, places, alliances, etc) mentioned without any real background. But I guess it's still early days, so there's lots of time to give detail.

3. Philosophers? Are you sure you mean philosophers?

4. I love the intrigue. Keep going!

~~Deavor, The Devoted

[RyaikenDune]

Okay, comments:

1. Grammar and spelling. I suspect you didn't do much proof-reading.

2. There are a lot of components (people, places, alliances, etc) mentioned without any real background. But I guess it's still early days, so there's lots of time to give detail.

3. Philosophers? Are you sure you mean philosophers?

4. I love the intrigue. Keep going!

~~Deavor, The Devoted

This isn't the whole chapter C:.

[cibercat]

Pretty good; I'm writing a fan fic as well about the arrive of the tricksters
http://www.outspark.com/forums/showthread.php?t=300196
Is nice to see that there is someone else writting about it
In the one I'm writting, I describe the "souls" as orbs that make the HP and the SP flows within the body of everyone, but tricksters have very precise eyes, so they can "take" the souls for a little period of time.

[AVTXL386]

I like it, but why don't you keep the font the same as default? @_@

[RyaikenDune]

I'm just sticking with soul sucking plain and simple. The character is physically adept on his or her own but when he or she extracts souls from victims, his abilities simply get stronger. TBH, this story wasn't really meant for Fiesta like Destiny was. I'm just going to throw some down and see how people like it before doing the real thing n.n


^^. And I really hate the default font because the italics aren't noticeable.

[AVTXL386]

they are sooooooooooo noticeable QQ

[RyaikenDune]

*


The man was terrified, thought the Chancellor. Terrified of the soft kiss of the summer air. Terrified of the men standing around him, his former comrades in arms who now looked down at his writhing form upon the hospital bed, their faces dull with anguish. But terrified, above all, of the rustling shadows cast down by the thick maroon curtains.

The Shadows.

Who... what had done this? wondered the Chancellor, as a hot bubbling mixture of guilt and dread boiled over in the pit of his stomach. He had ordered this. He had ordered this reconnaissance party to go out there... into the abyss... where that Dragontayl... that monster had done this. Extracted the souls of four loyal soldiers and disfigured the soul of the fifth.

He had spoken at their collective eulogy. Knew the names and ID numbers of each soldier by heart, each burned deep like the mark of a fiery brand into his mind. He had lost men before... but never like this. Never with the explicit knowledge that their souls would never find eternal rest. Never with the hollow eyes of the deceased staring painfully up at him...

Now, he raised his knotted wand sin his left hand and placed the orb upon the squirming man's forehead. A howl rang out through the painfully silent corridors of the secluded hospital wing, and then the man was motionless. Peaceful, thought the Chancellor bitterly, for the first time in days. He closed his eyes and, with a deep, steadying breath, delved fast into the folds of the man's shattered mind.

Tw0 heads of long auburn hair. A woman and child. Their eyes stare unflinchingly into his own. Volumes are spoken amidst a tearful silence. His heart throbs with great stabbing strokes of pain. Yet the dreamer does not move on. He stays a while, possessed by some gross and masochistic spirit. He stays a while, and shoulders the despair. Perhaps, he thinks, the host will rest easier when he wakes.

Now the dreamer moves on forward, hurdling the folds of time like so many cracks upon an endless spiraling sidewalk. He sees the preparations. He sees the strategy. They have spotted it: the tear in the dimensional curtain, the swirling indigo mists that spin out, in long delicate streaks from its center. And now they see him, standing placidly before a hole in the universe.

His hair is darker by far, than the deep starless night. His skin is pale, like the kiss of the moon. His coat is long and black and drifts gently in the still summer night's air as if it is somehow alive. It is Kenneth Dragontayl, custodian of the Princess, The party fans out to surround him. To encircle him.

A few words are spoken. The Trickster is uncooperative.

They attack. Magic blasts rain down on Dragontayl from the sides but he whirls and twists and pivots to avoid them. A fighter charges forward, brandishing his long, two handed sword as if it were but a feather. Her assault is met with the slash of a thin, glistening saber. Her soul is extracted in an instant, before the cleric can life his mace to heal. The dreamer draws his bow and notches an arrow. He is waiting. Waiting for the perfect time to loose a killing arrow.

Mage down; a razor claw cleaves his soul from his body. And now the other mage. And now the cleric, who tries to run, but to no avail. The dreamer is frozen in place, bow string stretched back, still waiting... still watching for his chance...

Dragontayl turns to face the tear. NOW! An arrow whistles through the air, straight, unwavering towards the Trickster's pale, unprotected neck. CRACK! The thin razor blades of a claw snag the arrow from mid air. Dragontayl turns. And then the dreamer is moving... being dragged along the dirt, his fingers digging for handholds... moving...

That pale face. Those stormy gray eyes staring, unreadable, into his own.

"I do not require a fifth soul to open the gate," says the voice. It is soft and firm. The words are spoken deliberately. "Goodbye," says the voice. And, in a flash of indigo and black, he is gone. The Dreamer wakes.

The Chancellor staggered. Lengthy mesmerizations were never an easy feat. But it had been necessary. Not just to verify the details of the assault. That was secondary. What had mattered were those two auburn heads of hair... a wife and a child... a tearful goodbye... a man who would never return to his family. He would avenge them if it was his last act alive.

"Satisfied?" asked the General darkly. He had been there the whole time, standing solemnly, as was his habit, at the entrance.

"No," replied the Chancellor. "Never." To which the General replied with a brief nod of mutual understanding. "Eustace," said the Chancellor, "The Dimensional Bridge will be finished tomorrow won't it. Untested," he admitted, "but finished. We will find him. We will find Kenneth Dragontayl and stop whatever it is he is upto. And then I will kill him myself."

[RyaikenDune]

D: Dream Scene. Coolz0r.

[Daevor]

^^. And I really hate the default font because the italics aren't noticeable.

Palatino Linotype. Nicest font OS has.

~Daevor, The Devoted