We meet again, hell on white. I never imagined comming back here, but here I am. *Tch* The memories are comming back, like the disgusting aftertaste of a bitter drink. Is this divine providence, or merely the fickle whim of music in the play of my life? The place I hate the most, the faces I want not to see again, an uncomfortable stay, a less than deserver audience, a meager and laughable production capacity, and possibly lasting repercussions and damage to an overally flawless career: I really hope the earnings are really worth all this investment in the end. If everything goes fine, thought, we will get even for this and everything, my little Buiteflou.
But first, I need to deal with that man. A conceited imbecile who thinks everything can be bought is truely deserver of pitty. How could he dare to put a prize to your existance?! Part of me regrets not having killed him in that very moment, but the bear knows how to play his cards, that I can grant him. We will have to use him, Buiteflou, if we want to get you back. He is a court buffoon, but the buffoon is the one closest to the king always, so he is the key to our wishes, until we get our hands back on that abomination and cast it into the oblivion where it belongs, but not before we use her to grant ourselves what we deserve so rightly, Buiteflou. It couldn't be any other way. Besides, now I have the means to find it. The prize was high, but no prize is too high when it comes to you, Buiteflou. Now, I just need to appeal to the greed of some dimwits to do the gruntwork. Here, I don't think that will be hard. After all, anybody on it's sane mind wouldn't dissmiss the chance to scape this hellhole.
And, speaking of such hideous things, it seems that "thing" has settled in this god forsaken town as well. Isn't this a carnival of cursed ones? I wonder what kind of debauched pleasure does that creature earns from acting out a mortal life she was never meant to have. Could it be that, in the likeness of children, gods also enjoy spending their time indulging in such frivolous enactments? Or is it that she derives glee from realizing how easily she can fool anybody around her and do as she pleases? How sick. And here I am, so gladly accepting the invitation to be part of this freak circus show with a suitable audience of people with the intelligence of a coconut. Is this how low your mamma has fallen to bring you back, Buiteflou? But, it doesn't matter: different to what that bastard thinks, no amount of disscarded pride, of platinium pieces, or material wealth can ever be enough amount to give measure to your value, Buiteflou, and your mamma is gonna do everything it needs to be done to bring you back and ensure the ones responsible for what happened suffer a thousanfold what you had to endure. You can rest assured on that.
But first things first. We need to turn this place in our favor, to our needs, Buiteflou and, for that, we need to deal with that man again. He wants to believe in a world where everything can be bought. Fine: let's make him believe he is right for now. We will play along with his game until the moment is right. The show must go on until the end of this play, my last play.
- Aanval Josie Ploegdogter Ouerigerf, Darfellan Opera Singer.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Final Fantasy - Dungeonscape Chronicles 005: ...A hundred years after.
One hundred years. Today, a life of man ends somewhere in the world, a child is born, and the world, oh terrible world, keeps in motion, bringing new captives to it's cage to feel not so alone amid the voyd of darkness. One hundred years I ceased to be a person to become a thing, a tool, a mere token on a collection of treasures deep in the vault of a beast that posses as a man. Or, is this the beast inside every man of manner and lore, taken shape from a broken mirror shard, to haunt and terrorize the vanity of the elightened minds?
Enlightened minds. *haha* Another self-pleasing term for those who fancy themselves mighty in thought when the body fails. Truth, they say, is their sword and fact their shield. Pittyful fools! What do they know about the truth?! They envision truth as a lady of utter radiance which embraces all that exists in a motherly hug. *haha* Isn't it charming to hear the tales of children? Ah, if they were to face truth for real, even if glancing it upon a mirror, perhaps the stony gaze of a medusa would be found far more appealing to their fragmented minds. And yet, so much is there to learn in the chisseled faces of horror the cursed ones capture for all eternity and often I pondered if this isn't a perfect state of thought. *haha* If statues would lend us an ear and answer our feeble questions, how much could we learn about the truth? But such is not the question here. The question is... can we survive it?
Ah, the truth, the truth. So little have I learned about it here, at the center of a thought of logic and symetry taken form through metal, rock, and wheel. And yet, such mere scraps have served me well, and humility is what I've harvested. Rubbish for the master of this manor of torment, jewels for this living treasure, for all he cares are the doors. Yes, the doors. He cherishes nothing more lasciviously nor more passionatelly, and so I have become his lover. Yes! I confess my sins for I have partaken on such depraved intends and my name might be written in blood all across this nuptial palace, granted shape in the likeness of what makes god and mortal alike. And yet, even when so vainly sat upon the throne of this monument to mortal divinity, the master of this realm knows nothing about the truth beyond his fevered dreams of beastful savagery. He knows nothing about the world of black skies, the endless cliffs of crystal, the pipe valleys of broken chrome, the falls of quantities bereft of object, the eternal dawn of blue, or the slave lords that toil in the unseen beyond our measure of time. But he doesn't knows, nor he cares to know, for he fancies himself an enlightened mind.
*Haha* Perhaps it is a good thing that he doesn't knows... If he were to know, he would come to realize that not even the brave hero can save him nor anybody. Nobody can save you when you are but another brick in the walls of the labyrinth. After all, who can save the minotaur from it's own labyrinth?
- Helwynn, Oread Seer.
Enlightened minds. *haha* Another self-pleasing term for those who fancy themselves mighty in thought when the body fails. Truth, they say, is their sword and fact their shield. Pittyful fools! What do they know about the truth?! They envision truth as a lady of utter radiance which embraces all that exists in a motherly hug. *haha* Isn't it charming to hear the tales of children? Ah, if they were to face truth for real, even if glancing it upon a mirror, perhaps the stony gaze of a medusa would be found far more appealing to their fragmented minds. And yet, so much is there to learn in the chisseled faces of horror the cursed ones capture for all eternity and often I pondered if this isn't a perfect state of thought. *haha* If statues would lend us an ear and answer our feeble questions, how much could we learn about the truth? But such is not the question here. The question is... can we survive it?
Ah, the truth, the truth. So little have I learned about it here, at the center of a thought of logic and symetry taken form through metal, rock, and wheel. And yet, such mere scraps have served me well, and humility is what I've harvested. Rubbish for the master of this manor of torment, jewels for this living treasure, for all he cares are the doors. Yes, the doors. He cherishes nothing more lasciviously nor more passionatelly, and so I have become his lover. Yes! I confess my sins for I have partaken on such depraved intends and my name might be written in blood all across this nuptial palace, granted shape in the likeness of what makes god and mortal alike. And yet, even when so vainly sat upon the throne of this monument to mortal divinity, the master of this realm knows nothing about the truth beyond his fevered dreams of beastful savagery. He knows nothing about the world of black skies, the endless cliffs of crystal, the pipe valleys of broken chrome, the falls of quantities bereft of object, the eternal dawn of blue, or the slave lords that toil in the unseen beyond our measure of time. But he doesn't knows, nor he cares to know, for he fancies himself an enlightened mind.
*Haha* Perhaps it is a good thing that he doesn't knows... If he were to know, he would come to realize that not even the brave hero can save him nor anybody. Nobody can save you when you are but another brick in the walls of the labyrinth. After all, who can save the minotaur from it's own labyrinth?
- Helwynn, Oread Seer.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Final Fantasy - The Rhodium Maiden Chronicles 006: I Can Hear Your Heart
 |
| Khuzhe |
Curiously enough, the right answer to that question is "no". "Why?", you may ask. Well, it's simple, actually: most people wish for very different and unique things tied to their different and unique life stories. To put it simply, you can say that "everybody wants for something, but that something is not the same for everybody". This little single fact makes, to a degree, everybody the same as, at the core, it makes everybody to be in the same lane. Everybody is trying very hard to get that "important something" that eludes them and, sometimes, even without knowing what that "something" actually is. In fact, the latter is far more common that you would guess. Regardless if they do know or don't, people will give all they can and all they have to achieve that "important something" that becomes the "theme" of their lives (or to recover it, in some cases). However, almost always, people do not know HOW to get that "important something" or simply lacks the means to get that "important something", what makes their lives miserable at best. After all, can you say you are truely living when you spend more than half the time thinking in how good would it be to be at another place, at another time, or even be someone else? That's where I enter.
You see, like everybody, I want all sort of things. However, while most people think only in what they can see, touch, smell, or taste, I happen to have a liking for such things which nature makes them harder to obtain. Think on it for a moment. You want money, food, health, pleasure, power? One way or the other, all of such can be obtained with the right coin or the right deal, and you know it. Now, I ask you, where can a person buy realization, enlightening, love, or even perhaps true happyness? *Hahaha* You guessed it right: there is no way to buy such, for not even the most powerfull wizards, on their inconmensurable arkane talent, can create an actual potion of any of the stuff I mentioned. In fact, even the so-called "love potions" are nothing but ruses to cloud the mind of the victim into experimenting, temporarily, the sensation of infatuation, but I assume you will agree with me that such is the most distant far-cry of what love truely is. No alchemist, so far, has been able to synthetize the "taste" of a virtuous saint's life, or the exotic reverie of a talented artist when inspiration hits him, or the unmarred and pristine fervour a loving child experiments upon kissing her mother and father. Can you image the taste of such an exquisite wine if moments could be caught on time and disstilled? That's the sort of things I long to collect and, thus, the sort of things I deal in.
I'm no wizard so stoping time is pretty much out of my grasp, even when I do dabble a little bit on the arkane. However, my job is to find out what people truely want and then not just grant it to them, but grant it to them in the right manner, in the right moment, and in the right measure to make it "a moment in the time of your life worth of being remembered for a lifetime". Yes! I'm an artist: the world is my canvas and the people my brushes for painting moments in time, living masterworks that only happen once, yet linger for all eternity! Now, of course, as much as I love my art, is only fair for me to ask something in return, right? After all, making everything happen just as you want it to happen is, sometimes, far more expensive than what you might imagine. Now, I ask you: how much would you be willing to pay to have your most cherished desire fullfilled just as you ever dreamt it, even if just for a little moment? How much would you be willing to give to say that last goodbye, to change that wrong decision, to relive that moment one last time, etc, etc, etc?
Like I said, I am no wizard, so my own powers are limited, but I do happen to know many. In fact, I do happen to know loads of people because, you see, in this job, the first thing you learn to do is to listen to the heart of people. How? *Hahaha* Sorry, but that's one of the secrets of the job, but I will give you a tip, just to show you how much I like you. You see, the heart of people is always talking to the world, is just people, way too focused on the power of words (and, trust me, words DO have far more power than what people can imagine, even the most average and overused word) loose sight of "the words inside the words". Take by example that fine maiden we all have met at least once. She radiates beauty like the sun, and is always gracefull and kind to everybody. Married to a wealthy man and surrounded in luxury, how can she be unhappy, right? But look at her a bit further: have you noticed she never looks at you right in the eyes, as if she was afraid of you to "find out" something? Have you noticed the particular way in which she moves her right arm when she lifts her basket, as if strenght failed her for a brief moment, just like when an arm is sore or wounded? Have you ever wondered why does she seem to have such a passion when she talks about the free birds in the wild? Yes, my friend: the heart of people is always speaking through words that cannot be heard by untrained ears, and I happen to have such ears. So, I listen carefully and find out what is the desire in the hearts of people and, then, grant them the chance to meet other people who can make their desires possible and, so, a perfect moment in time comes to be. All I ask in return is a little something, a triffle in exchange for an everlasting memory, as I am, as well, trying to make my existance a collection of everlasting moments as much as I can. Sometimes it can be money, other times it can be food, sometimes even pleasure or far more exotic favors. Sometimes, my employer has nothing of interest to me in that moment, so I remind him or her that, one day, I'm gonna come back for my payment, once I decide the fee. After all, why charge for something you do not wish to have in that very moment?
So, since people knows I can get what they want, they have started to call me when two persons can't get what they want from each other. This is far more of challenge than what I mentioned, but is possible. Like I said, in the end, all persons in this world, no matter how rich, poor, big, small, fat, thin, talented, average, or where do they belong, are driven by that little unifying point that makes them all the same: they are all looking for something important and, as long as you know what that something is, is just a matter of creativity. Take, for example, our brand new major. She was looking for a means to get a ready supply of jorium and the lich king's curiosity desires the secrets below the white blankets. Who, do you think, suggested the former major to take a long undefined holiday with his family while auctioning the property rights of Roh'Tul to the wealthy investors of Dressthen? *Hahahaha* You guessed it right. Because of being able to "connect" people in order to make everybody happy or, at least, satified, people have entitled me as a "negotiator", despite the fact I do not negotiate per sé: I simply understand people and, thus, sell connections and solutions.
However, there is one client to who I cannot sell anything anymore. I like to see her as "a masterpiece who abandoned artist and canvas to be free on it's own", which makes me love her and hate her at the same time, because I adore her, but I cannot make her mine like I could do with anybody else. If you ever come to Roth'Tul, you will meet her for sure, and you will understand what I mean, for I helped her achieve that "important something". The difference with the rest, however, lies in the fact that she has made it eternal somehow. A moment frozen in time while still in motion with time: a perpetual state of bliss. I love it because is the epitome of the kind of masterpiece I seek. Yet, I hate it, because I wasn't the one to make it. You could say that "she has beated me to the 1st place cup". Ah, universe is such an irony: to think she had, possibly, the cruelest of all fates among the people that dwells in this forsaken region of the world and, yet, she is the happiest being to dwell in this world and time... *hahaha*
But, enough of me. Let's talk about you. Let me hear what you think and feel. Perhaps... there is something I can do for you. No? *Hahaha* There's no need to be shy. Besides, your heart begs to differ with your words, did you know?
- Khuzhe Trotuar, Turmagan Negotiator.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Heretic - The Prelude: Kalith, The Dragon
One of the few lucky griathrim to live it's entire childhood along parents of the same kind, Kalith was born in a settling ship to a gentle but windy dawn in the 951AEF, after a memorable thunderstorm. Many took the occurrence as an omen of favored luck upon the child and prompted the parents to bename her "Kepesk-Larinngir", which in iokharic, the tongue of dragons, means "Storm-Tamer".
Most of Kalith's childhood took place in one of the many islands across the sea before the coastline of Menorias, where she made fast friendship with Wuhmmer, a half-celestial girl, who found on Kalith the sister she never had, sharing with her their mutual love for the heights above the clouds. While she grew fonder and fonder of her new friend, she couldn't help but to feel a growing sense of envy each time she saw how Wuhmmer soared to the sky to behold the sights she would have to wait for many years to behold. Stubbornly resolved to not be left behind, the gria lass would climb every day to the tallest cliff and throw herself to test the strenght of her still blossoming wings, taking a fleeting delight in the soft gliding over the winds of the shoreline. Nothing would detter Kalith from this daily routine, not even the threat of bad weather.
It came to happen near it's 30th anniversary that a massive thunderstorm would hit Kalith's island. It wasn't the first time the young gria would carry on with her daily practices despite an strong wind or a black cloud, but this storm almost seemed as taken from the very wrathfull whims of the gods, but the lass paid no heed and went on, and so it happened. As if accepting her challenge, the heavens casted a lightning, striking down Kalith to the seas. Rescued by her parents, Kalith remained bereft of conciousness for some days, even when her body had been restored with magic and medicine alike. In the third day, Kalith awakened in delirious weeping as her father held her fast, for the child tried to desperatelly grab something while her tears would rain and her wings flutter.
-"NO! DON'T GO! I'M SO CLOSE!! SO CLOSE!!! I'M ALMOST THERE!!! WAIT!!!"
Apparently fully recovered, the child would endlessly retell stories of her visions during her trance for days. Visions of an endless voyd of stars of all the colors in the rainbow and colors unknown to the words of mortals. Visions of distant worlds in the likeness of TayBalê, yet different in the most unthinkable manners, as dancing spheres in a sea of clouds of light, like spiral seas of blazing sands. Visions trapped on a door of stone guarded by archon and devil alike, hidden in the thin line at the horizon that separates the living and the dead, the dying and the unborn. Visions of a land behind the door, a province of symetrical beauty alight with thunders of many colors, bent into straight lines framing object and dweller alike. Visions of a gentle hand and a sweet smile awaiting at the other side. Kalith would speak about these visions endlessly for a long time with a vivid fervour only matched by the sudden and newfound outbursts of arkane power that hinted at the awakening sourcerous nature of the girl. It was little after that the simpler days would go away.
It was on Kalith's 45th year of life that a young and handsome hume would come to the island of the gria, seeking to deepen his understanding of the might in the storms and lightning, and it was here that problems came, as while both Kalith and Wuhmmer took a liking for the young hume researcher, the gap in between the ages of the half-celestial and the gria became painfully evident. At first, getting to know about Kalith's incident with the thunderstorm, the young hume researcher, known by everybody simply as Bright, befriended the gria lass and the latter would agree to become Bright's test subject, as the hume claimed to be developing a way to channel the might of the arcane through means of craft and technology. One of those first experiments yielded an unexpected result that would mark Kalith for the rest of her life, as what was supposed to be a simple "siphoning device" for the arkane power of Kalith would grant her one of her most coveted dreams. In the very instant she allowed her nascent arkane power to pour on the device, the gria would be thrown into the sky with such an strenght that her frame would leave an small trail of white behind. Appealing to her instincts, her wings straigtened as incipient rudders and, before she knew it, it came to be: she was in the sky, amid the clouds, feeling the breeze of the wind like never before. She was flying. Finally, after a rather ungracefull landing on the water, Kalith would not cease to laugh in joy for about an hour and, in the next days, she and Bright would refine the model further and further, the hume completely sure that his invention would change the world, and the gria more and more infatuated of the hume who had granted her the power she desired with such a passion. However, as years passed, and Bright matured, the age distance in between hume and gria grew further and further, until one day, the hume would announce his official engagement with Wuhmmer who, by that time, had the looks of a fair maiden on her 17s, while Kalith, having already 51 years, seemed little less than a lass on her 13s. Heartbroken, and uncapable of facing any of the duo, the lass asked her parents for their blessing, as she resolved to seek solace in the skies that were now open before her.
For the next 5 years, Kalith wandered the world perfecting both her growing powers as much her airborne skills, meeting all sorts of people on her way, and learning a good deal in the topics of tactic and strategy. After all, she had spent all her early youth as a brash lass who would kick first and ask later, and such, according to her, had costed her a potential lover and almost her life, thought she didn't regreted the latter. With enough experience under her belt, Kalith migrated finally to the Keep-City of Ashturias with the idea of becomming a Judge Of Wings, a rare rank among the militar hierarchy of the hume, bestowed only on those capable of flight at the service of the empire, and so spent the next 3 years at the war academy until she was called to war in 1010AEF, far before her tutoring time was over. Those who flew mounted on chocobos alongside Kalith do remember well: she soared in wings of glory as a valkyrie of legend, fearless and gracefull, diving straight into the heart of the enemy ships, braving waves of deadly darts and blazing cannon fire alike with the grace of a dancing faery, yet unleashing the might of thunder upon the enemy as a goddess of ancient ages. Amid the destruction delivered by her hand, she still admits to this day that, never after, she felt so alive, for she felt, perhaps better than ever, the inner dragon of her heart unbound. That day, as she stood upon the smoldering remains of one of the many felled airships of Dunkell Erchffinder defeated army on the sunset, she knew this was her path towards that heaven of light behind the secret door of her visions. She would prove herself worthy in the eyes of Bahamut himself.
During The Years Of Unrest, having reached finally real maturity one year after the war, Kalith served unfailingly the Ashturian Army in the efforts of reconstruction and hunting down of lingering evils after the defeat of Dunkell Erchffinder. Nevertheless, the chaotic and personal way to fullfill her orders gained the gria a grudge with her superiors, who began to fear that, in absense of war, the dragonspawn could turn from ally to threat herself. As such, even when many of her surviving comrades always backed and supported her as the heroine of war she was, Kalith renounced to the Ashturian Army as the title of Judge Of Wings was denied to her upon the grounds that her ability to zealously uphold the law, as a judge is expected to do, was seriously questioned in 1018AEF. At such time, after claiming her war bonus fee and, in a last act of symbolic defiance, Kalith renounced to her earned citizenship and signed herself as a clanless game hunter, possibly the most succesfull case of such a solo career in the recorded history of Ashturias.
Well respected among most game hunters, and friend of many who "agree to disagree" with the actual "way of the world", Kalith prepares herself for an upcomming demonstration and contest of the Aerial Cavalry where she plans to demonstrate, once again and before the eyes of everybody, that "The Blue Dragon", as her comrades would call her, and none other, is the rightfull owner to the title of Judge Of Wings.
-"So be it! Take back your rights and titles, your loves and flatter, your praises and worship: I have no use for them. The world that awaits for me in the horizon is far grander than your petty kingdom and anything your feeble mind can muster, for I am Kepesk-Larinngir and the sky is my realm!"
Kalith, The Dragon.
Most of Kalith's childhood took place in one of the many islands across the sea before the coastline of Menorias, where she made fast friendship with Wuhmmer, a half-celestial girl, who found on Kalith the sister she never had, sharing with her their mutual love for the heights above the clouds. While she grew fonder and fonder of her new friend, she couldn't help but to feel a growing sense of envy each time she saw how Wuhmmer soared to the sky to behold the sights she would have to wait for many years to behold. Stubbornly resolved to not be left behind, the gria lass would climb every day to the tallest cliff and throw herself to test the strenght of her still blossoming wings, taking a fleeting delight in the soft gliding over the winds of the shoreline. Nothing would detter Kalith from this daily routine, not even the threat of bad weather.
It came to happen near it's 30th anniversary that a massive thunderstorm would hit Kalith's island. It wasn't the first time the young gria would carry on with her daily practices despite an strong wind or a black cloud, but this storm almost seemed as taken from the very wrathfull whims of the gods, but the lass paid no heed and went on, and so it happened. As if accepting her challenge, the heavens casted a lightning, striking down Kalith to the seas. Rescued by her parents, Kalith remained bereft of conciousness for some days, even when her body had been restored with magic and medicine alike. In the third day, Kalith awakened in delirious weeping as her father held her fast, for the child tried to desperatelly grab something while her tears would rain and her wings flutter.
-"NO! DON'T GO! I'M SO CLOSE!! SO CLOSE!!! I'M ALMOST THERE!!! WAIT!!!"
Apparently fully recovered, the child would endlessly retell stories of her visions during her trance for days. Visions of an endless voyd of stars of all the colors in the rainbow and colors unknown to the words of mortals. Visions of distant worlds in the likeness of TayBalê, yet different in the most unthinkable manners, as dancing spheres in a sea of clouds of light, like spiral seas of blazing sands. Visions trapped on a door of stone guarded by archon and devil alike, hidden in the thin line at the horizon that separates the living and the dead, the dying and the unborn. Visions of a land behind the door, a province of symetrical beauty alight with thunders of many colors, bent into straight lines framing object and dweller alike. Visions of a gentle hand and a sweet smile awaiting at the other side. Kalith would speak about these visions endlessly for a long time with a vivid fervour only matched by the sudden and newfound outbursts of arkane power that hinted at the awakening sourcerous nature of the girl. It was little after that the simpler days would go away.
It was on Kalith's 45th year of life that a young and handsome hume would come to the island of the gria, seeking to deepen his understanding of the might in the storms and lightning, and it was here that problems came, as while both Kalith and Wuhmmer took a liking for the young hume researcher, the gap in between the ages of the half-celestial and the gria became painfully evident. At first, getting to know about Kalith's incident with the thunderstorm, the young hume researcher, known by everybody simply as Bright, befriended the gria lass and the latter would agree to become Bright's test subject, as the hume claimed to be developing a way to channel the might of the arcane through means of craft and technology. One of those first experiments yielded an unexpected result that would mark Kalith for the rest of her life, as what was supposed to be a simple "siphoning device" for the arkane power of Kalith would grant her one of her most coveted dreams. In the very instant she allowed her nascent arkane power to pour on the device, the gria would be thrown into the sky with such an strenght that her frame would leave an small trail of white behind. Appealing to her instincts, her wings straigtened as incipient rudders and, before she knew it, it came to be: she was in the sky, amid the clouds, feeling the breeze of the wind like never before. She was flying. Finally, after a rather ungracefull landing on the water, Kalith would not cease to laugh in joy for about an hour and, in the next days, she and Bright would refine the model further and further, the hume completely sure that his invention would change the world, and the gria more and more infatuated of the hume who had granted her the power she desired with such a passion. However, as years passed, and Bright matured, the age distance in between hume and gria grew further and further, until one day, the hume would announce his official engagement with Wuhmmer who, by that time, had the looks of a fair maiden on her 17s, while Kalith, having already 51 years, seemed little less than a lass on her 13s. Heartbroken, and uncapable of facing any of the duo, the lass asked her parents for their blessing, as she resolved to seek solace in the skies that were now open before her.
For the next 5 years, Kalith wandered the world perfecting both her growing powers as much her airborne skills, meeting all sorts of people on her way, and learning a good deal in the topics of tactic and strategy. After all, she had spent all her early youth as a brash lass who would kick first and ask later, and such, according to her, had costed her a potential lover and almost her life, thought she didn't regreted the latter. With enough experience under her belt, Kalith migrated finally to the Keep-City of Ashturias with the idea of becomming a Judge Of Wings, a rare rank among the militar hierarchy of the hume, bestowed only on those capable of flight at the service of the empire, and so spent the next 3 years at the war academy until she was called to war in 1010AEF, far before her tutoring time was over. Those who flew mounted on chocobos alongside Kalith do remember well: she soared in wings of glory as a valkyrie of legend, fearless and gracefull, diving straight into the heart of the enemy ships, braving waves of deadly darts and blazing cannon fire alike with the grace of a dancing faery, yet unleashing the might of thunder upon the enemy as a goddess of ancient ages. Amid the destruction delivered by her hand, she still admits to this day that, never after, she felt so alive, for she felt, perhaps better than ever, the inner dragon of her heart unbound. That day, as she stood upon the smoldering remains of one of the many felled airships of Dunkell Erchffinder defeated army on the sunset, she knew this was her path towards that heaven of light behind the secret door of her visions. She would prove herself worthy in the eyes of Bahamut himself.
During The Years Of Unrest, having reached finally real maturity one year after the war, Kalith served unfailingly the Ashturian Army in the efforts of reconstruction and hunting down of lingering evils after the defeat of Dunkell Erchffinder. Nevertheless, the chaotic and personal way to fullfill her orders gained the gria a grudge with her superiors, who began to fear that, in absense of war, the dragonspawn could turn from ally to threat herself. As such, even when many of her surviving comrades always backed and supported her as the heroine of war she was, Kalith renounced to the Ashturian Army as the title of Judge Of Wings was denied to her upon the grounds that her ability to zealously uphold the law, as a judge is expected to do, was seriously questioned in 1018AEF. At such time, after claiming her war bonus fee and, in a last act of symbolic defiance, Kalith renounced to her earned citizenship and signed herself as a clanless game hunter, possibly the most succesfull case of such a solo career in the recorded history of Ashturias.
Well respected among most game hunters, and friend of many who "agree to disagree" with the actual "way of the world", Kalith prepares herself for an upcomming demonstration and contest of the Aerial Cavalry where she plans to demonstrate, once again and before the eyes of everybody, that "The Blue Dragon", as her comrades would call her, and none other, is the rightfull owner to the title of Judge Of Wings.
-"So be it! Take back your rights and titles, your loves and flatter, your praises and worship: I have no use for them. The world that awaits for me in the horizon is far grander than your petty kingdom and anything your feeble mind can muster, for I am Kepesk-Larinngir and the sky is my realm!"
Kalith, The Dragon.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Final Fantasy - The Rhodium Maiden Chronicles 005: Kenina's Warmth
 |
| Kenina |
You know, a lot of people do not like this place, but I do. It is a lot like home, but a lot more quiet. People here do not fight about silly or sad things. They just work hard and enjoy the time together. You may not see them because they seem scary and dirty at first glance but, take a closer look: when they are all together before the fireplace, you see the people behind all the dirtyness and hardened looks. They smile, they laugh, they sing together. Some of them do not even know the name of the person drinking and eating by his side, yet when everybody's merry, they hug, they laugh, they share, as if they were all a big family. Isn't it pretty-kupo?
I miss the old Major, he was a good person too. He missed too dearly his family so he took my advice and went to see his family in the southern lands. I bet he is happy now, with his wife and his two sons. I wonder if he will remember me. But the new Major isn't a bad person either, despite what she may want others to believe by possing as an scary and grim leader. She is just very cold and needs someone to give her a hug, a biiig hug until all the cold on her heart melts and comes out through her eyes. I am sure she will feel a lot better when such happens, and perhaps she can be cured, but I can't do it for her. Not now. She must recall the heat of life on her own. Only then I can melt the ice from her heart, but I think I will not be needed then-kupo.
Oh! The stew's ready-kupo! I bet Teshmacker would like it. I know he likes my cooking, even if he doesn't says it. He is such a sweet person too. I don't ask him for anything but he is always bringing me spices and ingredients when I start to run low on them. And yet people is so scared of him just because he is a hobgoblin. I really can't understand it: I'm not scared of him. Why would I? It wasn't his fault to be born where he was born, yet people consider him a bad person just because of that. Is not fair. People is so blind. They can't see the kindness and warmth in the heart of others. Only here, amid such a cold and endless white, without anything else to see, people learn to discern the colors of kindness-kupo.
And there is Odeel, too. She is so pretty, and yet, her people do not want her just because part of her blood is hume. Poor Odeel-kupo: even her sweety left her side when he was drafted into the Ashturian army. Why can't all couples live happy, warm, and together everywhere? Why is there the need for so many sad goodbyes? Why can't those just be "see-you-soons"? Poor Odeel, acting all tough and strong all the time to not feel alone when, in fact, she remains so innocent and pure. Boys should learn that the toughest looking girls are the most frail. I'm gonna make a sweet carrot pie for her-kupo! That always makes her smile. I know, I have seen it, and is such a pretty smile that would make any boy to fall for her if she just allowed others to see it. She doesn't know I have seen it, but I have-kupo. But that will have to wait-kupo: I have a lot of paper to write for Odeel-kupo.
Oh, do you hear that-kupo? That means a new ship has arrived-kupo! It always makes me excited when a new ship arrives, but also sad: many goodbyes, but many hellos too-kupo! I might be lucky and get new customers-kupo. Who knows what wonderfull new stories of adventure, friendship and love I might get to learn this season-kupo? Isn't this the best place ever-kupo?
- Kenina, Scribe & Innkeeper Of Roh'Tul.
Final Fantasy - Dungeonscape Chronicles 004: A Hundred Years Ago...
I guess you can say it is the "curse of beauty". We always knew someone powerfull would take a fancy for the princess one day, but how could we have imagined it was gonna be a dragon?! And now I am in this mess, all because I was the only one who cared to learn something of use from the surface folk in the east. Yeah, I can pack some punch but, what difference is gonna be that against the breath of fire of a dragon?! I think the kinos fail to realize that, like, too much.
Ah, Princess Momo, why did you had to be so pretty? Neither kino nor hume, yet your cap flowed like golden hair, and your eyes were such a saphire blue. How could someone not like her? But, somehow, I think the dragon lord has something else on mind. What does he plans to do with the Earth Crystal? I know dragons have mighty sorcerous powers, but nobody can handle the power of the Earth Crystal, not even the seer. And now I have to go ask the seer for it. What am I supposed to say? "Give me the crystal for the Dragon Lord so we can have our princess back, pretty please"? Like that is going to work.
It's like being in the old days again. The surface folk do not remember, but we who live deep, oh yes, we do. The ancient days in which you had dragons everywhere and in all sort of shapes, not just the self-claimed "true dragons". Dragons made of rock, crystal, even pure elements: nobody remembers them. They were here, there, and everywhere you could imagine, doing whatever they wanted and as they pleased. And we, the little? Food, slaves, or toys. You name it: those were our only options. But then came the great heroes of the first ages, the Leadwrights. Is thanks to them that dragons are now in the numbers of today and this world is no longer theirs. *Sigh* I those guys were still around, this wouldn't be happening.
But, for now, I am more worried about this place. There are rumors of some sort of witch or demon or something similar capable of turning creatures to stone. I mean, I know wizards and witchs can do many strange magics on people and creatures alike, but that is something really terrible. However, so far, I see nothing that would hint at such a thing in these parts. Everything looks calm, thought I find it odd that there aren't too many birds around, as there were back at the mountain's bottom. Oh, and that one must be the temple of the seer. Some fancy taste on decorations: so many statues of people and animals. They look so life-like, whoever did this, is quite talented but, somehow, it gives me the creeps. I hope it's just me, but I have a bad feeling about this.
- Kinopio, Steward Of The Kinon Realm.
Ah, Princess Momo, why did you had to be so pretty? Neither kino nor hume, yet your cap flowed like golden hair, and your eyes were such a saphire blue. How could someone not like her? But, somehow, I think the dragon lord has something else on mind. What does he plans to do with the Earth Crystal? I know dragons have mighty sorcerous powers, but nobody can handle the power of the Earth Crystal, not even the seer. And now I have to go ask the seer for it. What am I supposed to say? "Give me the crystal for the Dragon Lord so we can have our princess back, pretty please"? Like that is going to work.
It's like being in the old days again. The surface folk do not remember, but we who live deep, oh yes, we do. The ancient days in which you had dragons everywhere and in all sort of shapes, not just the self-claimed "true dragons". Dragons made of rock, crystal, even pure elements: nobody remembers them. They were here, there, and everywhere you could imagine, doing whatever they wanted and as they pleased. And we, the little? Food, slaves, or toys. You name it: those were our only options. But then came the great heroes of the first ages, the Leadwrights. Is thanks to them that dragons are now in the numbers of today and this world is no longer theirs. *Sigh* I those guys were still around, this wouldn't be happening.
But, for now, I am more worried about this place. There are rumors of some sort of witch or demon or something similar capable of turning creatures to stone. I mean, I know wizards and witchs can do many strange magics on people and creatures alike, but that is something really terrible. However, so far, I see nothing that would hint at such a thing in these parts. Everything looks calm, thought I find it odd that there aren't too many birds around, as there were back at the mountain's bottom. Oh, and that one must be the temple of the seer. Some fancy taste on decorations: so many statues of people and animals. They look so life-like, whoever did this, is quite talented but, somehow, it gives me the creeps. I hope it's just me, but I have a bad feeling about this.
- Kinopio, Steward Of The Kinon Realm.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Heretics - The Prelude: Thardur, The Crossbow
As peace shone on all it's glory circa 913AEF, the birth of Thardur saw no ill omen or great happening, but was equally celebrated, as the eldar cherish every life that comes to join their ranks. It was 97 years after, as Thardur was about to reach maturity while demonstrating an innate understanding for the mysteries in the arkane arts that the shadow of Dunkell Erchffinder made itself present in the west, and his war with the world spread to every corner of Menorias, creeping towards the forests the elvenwatch had so long protected.
Thardur had been caught outside the boundaries of Kalen-Bashô, his homeland, when the forces of Erchffinder raided the Bashorian Woods. Allied arrows rained upon the dark soldiers, but few of the latter fell, sturdy as the darksteel of their armors, fueled by a burning loyalty to their master as only the contraptions of a dark genius can muster. In the otherhand, their barbed darts fell many valiant elven warriors, as their light protections were ill suitted to withstand the wrath of steel spat from the enemy crossbows, in the likeness of things not seen in this world since very ancient ages. Thardur saw it all: arrows that bounced harmlessly in plates of metal against darts fired with enough strenght to crack ancient trees and warriors alike without mercy. Skill wasn't enough, cantrips weren't enough, the old ways weren't enough, for these were foes from a different age and time, like those for which the world wouldn't be ready until several centuries had passed. Incapable of withstanding more kindred blood spilled in the forest floor, Thardur rushed towards the weapon of one of the fallen enemies and seized it. Heavy it was to his arms, cast on metals and shapes unknown to him, but it wasn't the time to ponder as it was to act. Such a power! The aim of the young elven mage was good enough, but the rain of death this craft could muster was something far deadlier and stunning than anything the eldar had ever harnessed. At last, the raid was stalled by the swift intervention of the wandering cavalry known to the hume as "The Lions", led by Ramza Beoulve. Without them, Kalen-Bashô's fate might have been dubious at best.
After the calamity had passed, Thardur found himself on a mayor dissagreement with his arkane tutor, as the former began to question the might of the elven ways against the destruction rained upon his kin by mere gadgets of steel which required so little training, capable of being understood by the average population in dire contrast with the intrincate and deeply personal ways of the arkane arts, which he respected for their might, but which he started to believe were growing stagnant by being chained to the old approaches and ritualisms, beautyfull but inpractical on the matters of life or death, which are decided in the blink of an eye. There was no anger on Thardur's master but saddness, as he felt his student had been dazzled by the quick route to power offered by the crafts of matter and mind of which man, dwarf and gnome were so fond, rude attempts at bending nature in crude ways, paying no mind to the powerfull foundations of reality on the regions unseen to the eye.
-"I fear the taste of cold power bereft of heart has befouled your wisdom by planting a seed of greed in your mind. One who have become sick in hunger for power is not aided by an offer of more of that which will never suffice. Until this cloud of voyd has not departed your soul... I can teach you no more. Leave in peace now, and may the grace of those before you shed light in the path of righteousness for you."
Confused and saddened, Thardur left his master's side and turned his attention to study the craft he had kept as a memento of such a terrible day, eventually joining the ranks of the now decimated elvenwatch as chances on such a position were plenty to study the craft on the battlefield. Many weren't comfortable around Thardur as he carried a weapon of their former enemies, but none dared to speak their mind about it, for they could not denny the craft was a sure spell of doom upon whoever was it's enemy. Uncomfortable himself with such a fact but incampable of denying Thardur's unfailing 9 year service, the master of arms relieved the young eldar from the elvenwatch to join the armies that would lend help in the reconstruction of Ashturias and the pursuit of any horrors that might had lingered in the inner forest realm of Evergreen around the 1019AEF.
Repairing the damage Dunkell Erchffinder left on Ashturias has taken time, and even after 10 years, there is so much to do, and such hasn't been time wasted for Thardur, as he had found other likeminds who had helped him further refine and understand the design of the craft that hasn't left his side since such day 19 years ago, proving more than once it's worth on the hunt of horrors which, many times, were bereft of name. But the hunt goes on, and Thardur Hwarmacu, as he have been benamed by his peers, strives hard to demonstrate his kind the ways of the new ages to come and the fact that they can and must embrace such before it's too late.
-"We were the first, yet the world changes leaving us behind, all because we refuse to move. There is power untapped on the old arts, craft to be unveiled in the mind of men, things that could lead the world into an age of might bereft of peer. Still, you cling to your ways of wood and string. I say let's seize the power of the new age and regain our throne as the first! Let us become the hunters lest we become hunted into oblivion by time itself!"
Thardur, The Crossbow.
Thardur had been caught outside the boundaries of Kalen-Bashô, his homeland, when the forces of Erchffinder raided the Bashorian Woods. Allied arrows rained upon the dark soldiers, but few of the latter fell, sturdy as the darksteel of their armors, fueled by a burning loyalty to their master as only the contraptions of a dark genius can muster. In the otherhand, their barbed darts fell many valiant elven warriors, as their light protections were ill suitted to withstand the wrath of steel spat from the enemy crossbows, in the likeness of things not seen in this world since very ancient ages. Thardur saw it all: arrows that bounced harmlessly in plates of metal against darts fired with enough strenght to crack ancient trees and warriors alike without mercy. Skill wasn't enough, cantrips weren't enough, the old ways weren't enough, for these were foes from a different age and time, like those for which the world wouldn't be ready until several centuries had passed. Incapable of withstanding more kindred blood spilled in the forest floor, Thardur rushed towards the weapon of one of the fallen enemies and seized it. Heavy it was to his arms, cast on metals and shapes unknown to him, but it wasn't the time to ponder as it was to act. Such a power! The aim of the young elven mage was good enough, but the rain of death this craft could muster was something far deadlier and stunning than anything the eldar had ever harnessed. At last, the raid was stalled by the swift intervention of the wandering cavalry known to the hume as "The Lions", led by Ramza Beoulve. Without them, Kalen-Bashô's fate might have been dubious at best.
After the calamity had passed, Thardur found himself on a mayor dissagreement with his arkane tutor, as the former began to question the might of the elven ways against the destruction rained upon his kin by mere gadgets of steel which required so little training, capable of being understood by the average population in dire contrast with the intrincate and deeply personal ways of the arkane arts, which he respected for their might, but which he started to believe were growing stagnant by being chained to the old approaches and ritualisms, beautyfull but inpractical on the matters of life or death, which are decided in the blink of an eye. There was no anger on Thardur's master but saddness, as he felt his student had been dazzled by the quick route to power offered by the crafts of matter and mind of which man, dwarf and gnome were so fond, rude attempts at bending nature in crude ways, paying no mind to the powerfull foundations of reality on the regions unseen to the eye.
-"I fear the taste of cold power bereft of heart has befouled your wisdom by planting a seed of greed in your mind. One who have become sick in hunger for power is not aided by an offer of more of that which will never suffice. Until this cloud of voyd has not departed your soul... I can teach you no more. Leave in peace now, and may the grace of those before you shed light in the path of righteousness for you."
Confused and saddened, Thardur left his master's side and turned his attention to study the craft he had kept as a memento of such a terrible day, eventually joining the ranks of the now decimated elvenwatch as chances on such a position were plenty to study the craft on the battlefield. Many weren't comfortable around Thardur as he carried a weapon of their former enemies, but none dared to speak their mind about it, for they could not denny the craft was a sure spell of doom upon whoever was it's enemy. Uncomfortable himself with such a fact but incampable of denying Thardur's unfailing 9 year service, the master of arms relieved the young eldar from the elvenwatch to join the armies that would lend help in the reconstruction of Ashturias and the pursuit of any horrors that might had lingered in the inner forest realm of Evergreen around the 1019AEF.
Repairing the damage Dunkell Erchffinder left on Ashturias has taken time, and even after 10 years, there is so much to do, and such hasn't been time wasted for Thardur, as he had found other likeminds who had helped him further refine and understand the design of the craft that hasn't left his side since such day 19 years ago, proving more than once it's worth on the hunt of horrors which, many times, were bereft of name. But the hunt goes on, and Thardur Hwarmacu, as he have been benamed by his peers, strives hard to demonstrate his kind the ways of the new ages to come and the fact that they can and must embrace such before it's too late.
-"We were the first, yet the world changes leaving us behind, all because we refuse to move. There is power untapped on the old arts, craft to be unveiled in the mind of men, things that could lead the world into an age of might bereft of peer. Still, you cling to your ways of wood and string. I say let's seize the power of the new age and regain our throne as the first! Let us become the hunters lest we become hunted into oblivion by time itself!"
Thardur, The Crossbow.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Final Fantasy - The Rhodium Maiden Chronicles 004: Cleaning The 'Hood
Such a bad vibe, deary. Is almost like when that thing fell from the sky and the hood got too chilly, even for ma' liking. What to do? What to do? Why children has to fight about whatever they see? I mean, aren't they happeh with the warm lots of the south? Isn't that enough, deary? Can't an old mamma enjoy her retirement as she see fitt and has some silence in the good vibe? *Hahaha* But, of course, that's ma' being silly because we know the answer is "nay": the world keep'spinning, deary, and so changes are bound to happen. It's the way of cosmic harmony and it's totally cool because that's how it is, deary.
But! (Yes, deary, there IS a "but" this time) ... that doesn't means we are not to do anything about it. Normally, your old mamma Mithbright would have said "Ah, don't sweat it, deary! Just duck, stay in tune, and mind your own stuff: IT-WILL-PASS." But, as I said, not this time. This time, something different is cooking on the hood, deary. Something BIG. I feel it in ma' hat. But don't take your old mamma's word for granted: even the big grumpies ARE on the move, being naughty and bully here and there. Is totally uncool, deary and, worst of all, the meanest of the grumpies is at the head, and you know very well what happened the last time that grumpy came out of her hole. Like me, she probably got-a-feel that stuff in the hood is going to change, so ma' is afraid some chocolate cookies aren't going to be enough to settle things like civilized grandmas should sort out a bad vibe. Nay, deary: even a flower mamma knows when a vibe is bad enough that you gotta get up and stand before a bully, no matter how big or old.
*Sigh* Alas, time runs and this mamma is already getting behind in the marathon. Ma' back aches now and then, ma' ain't as strong as yesterday, cannot even paint a month's red since many a-years ago. Mamma Mithbright can still pack a good soulpunch in the mug of a naughty, but time is time, deary, and me feels I might be too seasoned for this to wrap on ma' own. *Hmm* ... Who knows, deary? Perhaps your old mamma can find herself some young and ripe handsomes to help her clean the hood... Yes... Yeeeeah... That would be totally trippy!
- Mithbright, Sage Of The Winter Of Warmth
But! (Yes, deary, there IS a "but" this time) ... that doesn't means we are not to do anything about it. Normally, your old mamma Mithbright would have said "Ah, don't sweat it, deary! Just duck, stay in tune, and mind your own stuff: IT-WILL-PASS." But, as I said, not this time. This time, something different is cooking on the hood, deary. Something BIG. I feel it in ma' hat. But don't take your old mamma's word for granted: even the big grumpies ARE on the move, being naughty and bully here and there. Is totally uncool, deary and, worst of all, the meanest of the grumpies is at the head, and you know very well what happened the last time that grumpy came out of her hole. Like me, she probably got-a-feel that stuff in the hood is going to change, so ma' is afraid some chocolate cookies aren't going to be enough to settle things like civilized grandmas should sort out a bad vibe. Nay, deary: even a flower mamma knows when a vibe is bad enough that you gotta get up and stand before a bully, no matter how big or old.
*Sigh* Alas, time runs and this mamma is already getting behind in the marathon. Ma' back aches now and then, ma' ain't as strong as yesterday, cannot even paint a month's red since many a-years ago. Mamma Mithbright can still pack a good soulpunch in the mug of a naughty, but time is time, deary, and me feels I might be too seasoned for this to wrap on ma' own. *Hmm* ... Who knows, deary? Perhaps your old mamma can find herself some young and ripe handsomes to help her clean the hood... Yes... Yeeeeah... That would be totally trippy!
- Mithbright, Sage Of The Winter Of Warmth
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