Final Fantasy X: Resurrection

[Eternity]

This is for all you FFX fans who want a literate roleplay. Even if you don't know anything about FFX, sign up and you'll learn as we go. I want to make this open for all people!

Final Fantasy X: Resurrection

- - Years of the Calm have come, and people have become accustomed to the peace without fear. The world of Spira has grown to be a loving world, and has begun to rebuild its old memories into new ones, new memories with new meanings... - -

New places have begun to rise; new shops, new stores, new extensions of the land. But one place in particular will alter history. This place's reconstruction will turn this world into the place it once was. The place of fear, of nightmares, and of secrecy...


This place is Zanarkand.



Yet it rises, years after Sin has fallen. And the city has become functional again. A second Blitzball Dome is born here, and the city is prosperous as always. The city itself, is complete. Ready for living. Ready for life to return.

And it has. People bustle along these streets, run along these corridors and runways, walking through what was once a destroyed figment of history...

But deep underground, construction continues. People search and seek whatever it is that seems to haunt the workers here...

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Character Statistics:


1) Roe
Level 2 Red Mage
Overdrive 1- "Choke Hold"
Weapon- Steel Whip
Special- __
Skills- Dark Attack |
Magic- Cure |
Items- Potion {x3} |
~Strength 3
~Defense 2
~Magic Offense 2
~Magic Defense 1
~Magic Durability 1
~Evasion 3
~Agility 2




2) Narisa
Level 2 White Mage
Overdrive 1- "Mercy of the Soul"
Weapon- Winged Staff
Special- __
Skills- __
Magic- Cure | Esuna | Nul-Tide | Nul-Blaze |
Items- Potion {x3} | Ether
~Strength 0
~Defense 0
~Magic Offense 3
~Magic Defense 4
~Magic Durability 4
~Evasion 3
~Agility 3




3) Josef
Level 2 Heavy Swordsman
Overdrive 1- "Rev"
Weapon- Embedded Blade
Special- Cheer |
Skills- __
Magic- __
Items- Potion [3] |
~Strength 6
~Defense 5
~Magic Offense 0
~Magic Defense 0
~Magic Durability 0
~Evasion 1
~Agility 2




4) Sivan
Level 2 Thief
Overdrive 1- "Sneak Attack"
Weapon- Kilij & Gauche
Special- __
Skills- Steal | Use
Magic- __
Items- Potion {x3} | Grenade {x5}
~Strength 3
~Defense 2
~Magic Offense 0
~Magic Defense 0
~Magic Durability 0
~Evasion 4
~Agility 5




5) Luke
Level 2 Light Swordsman
Overdrive 1- "Fighter's Heart"
Weapon- Crusader's Blade
Special- Focus |
Skills- __
Magic- __
Items- Potion {x3} |
~Strength 4
~Defense 4
~Magic Offense 0
~Magic Defense 1
~Magic Durability 0
~Evasion 4
~Agility 4




6) Belnor
Level 2 Blitz Fighter
Overdrive 1- "Falcon's Fury"
Weapon- Bladed Pistol
Special- __
Skills- Silence Attack |
Magic- __
Items- Potion {x3}
~Strength 4
~Defense 3
~Magic Offense 1
~Magic Defense 2
~Magic Durability 1
~Evasion 3
~Agility 3

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Overdrive Upkeep:


Roe's Overdrive:
"Choke-Hold"
-A physical attack. By lashing her whip in a certain way, she entangles the enemy in it, then jerks the whip to create a tight hold on the enemy. It 'chokes' the enemy, and does a good bit of damage. Afterward, the enemy remains stunned for one turn.
Effects: Delay


Narisa's Overdrive:
"Mercy of the Soul"
-By calling on her emotions for her allies, Narisa prays for their healing and restores a large portion of the party’s health and removes all status effects. The Overdrive will become more effective as she gains levels and learns new spells.
Effects: Cure-All | Esuna


Josef's Overdrive:
"Rev"
-By increasing the Output of his Machina Arm, he gives himself the power and ability to deliver a crushing blow to one foe.
Effects: Pierce | Armor Break


Sivan's Overdrive:
"Sneak Attack"
-By attacking unsuspected, Sivan delivers a devastating blow to the enemy, striking them powerfully no matter if they are armored. Also, this draws their attention to Sivan for one turn.
Effects: Pierce | Provoke


Lukhail's Overdrive:
"Fighter's Heart"
-A five hit attack that attacks an enemy's weak points. Chances critical hits and stun damage; and very effective against land enemies.
Effects: Critical X [chanced] | Delay [chanced]


Belnor's Overdrive:
"Falcon's Fury"
-Releasing his falcon Vigil, he creates an attack on all enemies using the bird's talons. Sometimes takes down flying enemies, and is very effective airborne fiends.
Effects: Ground

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Aeon Upkeep:


Faluxin: Level 2: Wild Summon-- [Unlocked]
Overdrive: "Soul Suffocation"
Sphere: Chain Sphere
~Battle Options:
-Attack [stride forward and lash the enemy with chain-edged fins]
-Bind [fly upwards and dive towards enemy, halting ahead of him to create a wind gust of wind and a loud rattle of chains- deals damage and delays the enemy's immediate reaction]
-White Magic:: Protect [cast a shield over himself]

*Artwork by Eternity*

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Information!:

Battle System: When fighting multiple enemies, don't worry about it. I'll supply you with your fight, and bla bla. It's nothing important, you can post your response to my narration when you please.
-When it comes to fighting bosses though, there is a system that will be put in place. Above, at the Character Upkeep Section, each character has a number. This number will determine the order. Since Roe is one, if she attacks the boss first, then next will be Ikanon. If Ikanon attacks first, whoever is number 3 will be next to attack. We will cycle through like this to keep order and assure that everyone gets to attack the boss. When fighting bosses, you may only make one attack or one cast (use of magic) per turn, unless I narrate otherwise.

What's a Calm?: A long time ago, a creature named Sin was born. He destroyed so much, and killed so many. People believed he was the punishment for all their machina and city growth; that it was consequence. But Summoners were born, raised. They went from temple to temple, going to pray to the spirits to gain Aeons. With Aeons, and the Final Summon, they could kill Sin temporarily. The period where Sin was no longer alive, before he was born again, was called a Calm.

Where is Sin now?: Sin has been eternally purged, and is no longer active. This is the lasting Calm, after Lady Yuna, a Summoner, and her Guardians went and fought Sin.

What is Blitzball?: Blitzball is a sport played in a water sphere (which people can breath in). It is played team against team, with a goal on either side of the sphere. The point is to take the blitzball and take it to the other side. To pass, you must throw the ball. To shoot, you must kick it. Bla bla, you'll get it eventually lol.

Aeon summoning: Aeons will not be summoned as they were in the Final Fantasy X. Though White Mages will probably receive the most of Aeons, Aeons can be used by other characters. I will decide Aeon handout and use. The Aeons in this game are called Wild Summons.

How to summon a Wild Summon?: Wild Summons are trapped in small spheres that can be found by looking around, or are dropped by powerful enemies. Sometimes you can fight an enemy all to learn that is an aeon. By defeating it, you can receive the Wild Summon Sphere of that enemy. I will dictate when a character is able to summon a Wild Summon.

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Map of Spira




-x-x-x-x-

OOC is here
Remember the rules, and have fun!

~Eternity~

[Eternity]

Final Fantasy X
Resurrection


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"Found anything?" A male voice echoed softly through the crumbled stone hall. Deep underground, there sat a stretch of catacombs almost, but what they held was unknown. Above ground, though, life continued. The night's people could be heard echoing into the stone chamber, the voices muffled and echoing so softly. But strangely, deep in his own mind, Rae heard something calling to him. Calling his name...

"Nope." He lied. Though it was somewhat the truth. He hadn't found anything. Only heard it. Over and over.

He slid his hands down as he took on the south-half of the corridor, ridding of the crumbled rock over the cobblestone path that led into a wall. Rae would wrap his wiry dirtied hands around a thick rock, lift it, and put it down elsewhere. Trying to uncover this wall.
Warren asked him what made him want to work over at the south end, but Rae had no answer. The closer he got to the wall, the more he felt it. Calling to him. Reaching out. It had to be on the other side.
Whatever it was. Rae didn't seem to care. Just that it was making his fingertips tingle when he reached closer and closer...

After moving the last few rocks, he saw something engraved into the wall. Cracks ran through the deep gray stone, and distorted the look of it actually being a door. But the carvings were intricate and old, and Rae could almost see glyphs glowing when he drew his dirty fingers over the door.

Finding a small indent in the door, he pushed, and the entire stone figure shifted back.

Warren snapped his head back and watched, watched as Rae stepped into a chamber of pitch darkness.

"H-hey, Rae? Wh-what are you doing? Rae?... Rae, can you hear me?" Warren watched as the outline of his partner disappeared into the darkness, and the door slid back into place...





In the dark room, Rae felt a bit of fear swelling beneath his breast. But he contained it, leaning more for the voice that echoed softly in his mind, swaying him further into the depths. Finally, he extended his hand, fingertips ecstatic to touch something he knew was there.

But Rae had no idea what he was about to awaken.


He thought, almost, that he had reached a mirror, for as his hand came closer to this object, or plane of sorts, he could see another hand mimicking his, coming closer.

When he touched the glass-like film, the other hand reaching to his own, light began to fade into play, from inside of the bubble-like cocoon. Inside was a face written in the dark scriptures of history. Blue eyes, a sharp look with a soft set of masculine features. Blue lightning-like marks down the forehead, and blue hair. This man was... was...

Rae realized what he had done. He stepped back, wide green eyes alight with horror. But the man inside this thin crystalline womb was emerging, pressing his long clawed fingers against the edge. The film began to crack, and Rae opened his lips to scream. But the room was suddenly tense, so devoid of oxygen that he couldn't draw a breath. His knees buckled as light burst from the breaking cocoon, and pyreflies erupted by the hundreds. An eerie sound of haunted souls filled the room with Rae's scream as the pyreflies delved into him, shot into his mouth and filling his body. Then, the soul of Seymour, envious and vengeful, broke forward, grasping the man by the neck until Seymour himself had become apart of this man. And the transformation was complete. And it was born, of the male's body, of the haunted and envious pyreflies, and of Seymour's wicked remains.

A new monster was born...

=======================================================================




Prologue

The Zanarkand night was glorious; as always. People gathered on the docks, overlooking the glassy city on black water. The fountains, the screens, the Zanarkand Dome in the distance, shining like a silver fallen star on the ocean's edge. The city was prosperous, and large. To and fro, they went. People unaware of their sins, unaware of what awaited them now. Unaware of the darkness lurking deep below their footsteps. Below the city streets, at sea-level.
Deep, in the ruins and corridors of caved-in buildings long fallen, lay a beast. Growing now with its fresh body.

Already, had it fed upon the other workers deep in the underground caverns of lost and forgotten truths. Already, had it found power. Power to seek and destroy. To follow the cravings of a creature made purely of hate, envy, longing, pain, anger, and disgust.

And it had been festering beneath the surface like a sick infection.

Now is the time to rise, to creep up from the underground. Time to show himself....

-Roe-



Roe moved about the city's streets, wary of who came near her. She knew of the many pick-pockets here. There were all walks of life here, in Zanarkand. But how could she blame them all for flocking here? Zanarkand was the dream-city. Sitting over the stretch of dark water, staring out over the nothingness that led so evenly out into the horizon. Out past the glimmering mirror-like buildings. Over the silver Blitzball Dome in the Western corner. This city was a fairy-tale in the making. So beautiful.

Her footsteps were steady though. She didn't slow to admire the mass amounts of lights that flickered above, nor did she cast her attention to the many reel-based billboards; the screens playing minute-long advertisements and player descriptions. She just kept on. Ranona had a purpose to be here, and it wasn't to enjoy the scenery, the Blitzball games, or the opening of several new stores and socialite hot-spots. Even around the bustling people, all joyous or written-off with ecstatic expressions, she was not as happy. Roe was missing something.

Someone.

Her brother.

How long had it been since she had heard from him? So long, too long. Almost four months, since her brother had 'disappeared'. The construction company, Spiran Renewal, had promised her that he was fine. That Rae had just taken his time off early, and disappeared amongst the city-folk, hiding 'under the radar'. But Rayg wasn't like that. He wouldn't just go into hiding, like that. In the blink of an eye, without telling or warning anyone. And it wasn't just him either! The next night, Warren went missing.

When Roe asked what had happened to Warren, Spiran Renewal (or the S.R.) told her that they believed a kidnapper had come for him. But she connected the dots too easily, and figured out that kidnapping wasn't likely. What would anyone want with two S.R. workers? Rae was just a man who still loved playing in the dirt.

Without realizing it, her pace quickened, and her smooth green eyes fell to the ground. And then, abruptly, someone brushed against her.

Roe stepped back, and turned, watching a man in a long black robe hurry away. She stared for a moment. It was true, that in this time and age, the cloaked man was beyond suspicious. And thus, she had to follow him.


Her boots slammed against the cool pavement of the Zanarkand bridge, stretching over a pool of black water leading to another plaza of stores and shops. Her hair whipped behind her, the semi-long brown locks twisting against her pace.

The cloaked man only moved faster though. She knew something was wrong now. Why would he run from her?

Roe reached out to grab him, and barely let her fingers graze the smooth black cloth of his robe.

And he turned, twisting and knocking her hand away. And in two steps, he had moved backwards to the edge of the road. In an agile step, he crawled onto the side-bar, and gave Roe one last look. She couldn't see his eyes through the mask of white with sharpened red stripes over the eyes, but she knew in those dark sockets, eyes watched her.

And the man leaped. Ranona dashed to the street's edge, grabbing the bar and staring over. But the water was mostly still, as though he hadn't hit it. And it was black, just as he was. She felt something rise up in her, like fear, but not the same. It was more of anticipation. As though that were a sign.

Something's going to happen.
She could feel it.

Direction:
Your characters are here, in Zanarkand, a beautiful city on the water. Introduce each of your characters.

[Kingmaker]

Josef sighed, pulling his shot glass back to his lips again.

"Another hit after this, Braleigh."

The pungent, reeking liquid slid down his throat, stripping layers of skin off. It was caustic, horrid, and possibly cancerous. It was the good stuff. He coughed, choked, sputtered. He needed to get away from Spiran Renewal, but he still had a few more days on his contract. This job was killing him. He'd been coughing up black dust all night. Then there were the rumors of the beast in the mines... Josef had scoffed at first, passing it off as foolhardy superstition. Well, then shifts started to get longer, people kept taking "vacations" to places no one had heard of... Josef started to worry. He couldn't possibly protect everyone in the mines, could he? He had to try. He had to something, anything to keep the death toll down.

"Thanks, Braleigh."

His right arm was wrapped tightly to his side, and hidden under a massive cloak. If anyone noticed his Machina-arm, he'd probably get kicked out. Again. There was still a slight disdain to his figure, Spiran with a Machina arm. But it made him an invaluable tool in the mines. His arm never got tired, only needed some Al Bheds to keep maitenance once every few months, and could swing harder than most men. In his now-filled shot glass, he saw the reflection of Jana, his little sister. He brushed the drink aside recklessly, the tiny glass smashing against the far wall. Braleigh gestured for him to leave, and Josef stood up. He walked out the door, into Zanarkand itself. His sight, blurred as it was from drink and tears, caused him to bump directly into a young woman looking over the rails, into the deep waters. He backed away, suddenly and accutely aware of his state. Half-drunk, covered in mining grime, and streaking silvery tears, he was an interesting sight. He pitched forward, the last shot of liquor finally upsetting his balance enough to make him fall forward. Instinctively, he shoved his right arm out to catch him. The sound of ripping fabric alerted him to the fact that his Machina-arm had ruined another good jacket. He siged, feeling to make sure his gold pouch and sword were still attached firmly to his back. He pulled himself up, brushing his torn jacket with his left hand. His knee was bloody, but his pride and dignity were sprained, possibly broken. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling it away from his green eyes, peering at the woman in front of him. She... Wait, what did Jana look like? Did Jana look like this girl? No... Jana would have been thinner. Possibly her hair would have stayed lighter, this woman's hair was darker. And she carried herself differently. Like someone unafraid of fighting and stealing to survive. Josef was impressed.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am. W-were you lookin' for someone?"

His voice was steadier than his legs. His mind was constantly racing, what would Jana look like if she were as old as this woman in front of him? Would he still be here? Would she have survived, if only he...

He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts dismally.

[Silvan Arrow]

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I really have nothing to teach you that you don’t already know,” the elderly white mage said kindly.

Narisa, dumbfounded by the elder woman’s declaration, tried hard not to fall out of her seat. “I-I don’t understand, ma’am. You have years of experience, and you know such strong spells, and…”

The other mage gently cut her off. “That’s just it. I can’t teach you experience. You’re still young and need to see more of the world. You already know the skills. All that’s left is experience.” Noting Narisa’s downcast expression, she patted her hand and reassured her, “You’ll do just fine. Find a cause to which you can dedicate yourself wholeheartedly. Remember, a white mage’s spells are only as strong as her heart.”

Narisa bid the white mage farewell and left the humble dwelling, at least humble by Zanarkand’s standards, with more questions than answers. Somehow she felt as if this journey had been a wasted effort. She had traveled to the complete opposite end of Spira, spending weeks at a time on ferries and larger passenger ships, to reach Zanarkand, a city that never slept, a city that was the heart of so many aspects of Spira’s culture. Having arrived early this morning, Narisa had searched high and low, trying not to get lost in the maze of streets and throngs of people, to find the library and a white mage who could serve as a mentor. She had finally found such a person, only for that person to tell her that she had nothing left to teach her. And now, as night fell over the city, sparkling like a precious gem against the darkness due to the hundreds of lights, Narisa felt completely and utterly lost.

The young white mage leaned her elbows on a nearby metal railing and looked out over the vast expanse of black water, stretching as far as her eyes could see. An ocean breeze, thick with the familiar taste of salt, drew its tendrils through the waves of her light brown hair, which fell past her shoulders. She allowed her dark blue eyes to drift shut as she gave a weary sigh. After a few minutes, reality set it. It was late, she was in this unfamiliar city by herself, and she had to find an inn or some other safe place to stay for the night.

Taking a deep breath, Narisa waded through the dense crowds of people who were out to take advantage of Zanarkand’s nightlife. Her mother had warned her about the dangers of big cities at night, so she made sure to keep her pouch of Gil close to her body, hidden underneath the folds of her turquoise robe. She held her winged staff in her left hand almost like a ward, hoping people here had enough respect for white mages to not intend them any harm. But for a young, naïve woman who had grown up in a small oceanside community, she had a lot to learn about the harsh realities of big city life.

After what felt like a half hour of getting pushed and shoved by the hurried crowds, Narisa found herself in a narrow side street where few streetlights flickered and the people, though fewer in number, gave off vibes that were much less than friendly. She didn’t know much about cities, but she had enough common sense to know that small, seedy-looking streets that are poorly lit tend to be bad news. Instinctive fear gripping her heart, Narisa turned tail and fled, trying to retrace her steps but only succeeding in getting even more lost than before. She ended up in a street that was better lit but enclosed on all sides by buildings. With the metal railings and the ocean nowhere in sight, she had no idea which direction was which or how to get back to her starting point. “W-where am I?” Narisa wondered aloud, her voice shaky and her hands trembling. She found an unoccupied bench and sat down, gripping her staff with both hands like a lifeline and trying to blink back the tears that blurred her vision.

[Guilty Carrion]

With feigned interest, Belnor watched the billboard flashing through the scores of the previous night’s blitz ball games. He had placed a few bets here and there, and was pleased to see that he would be collecting on the largest of them, which would cover his losses, and give him some extra Gil for later. All in all, not a bad way to make a living. Flicking his emerald gaze to Vigil, the Al Bhed was about to speak when he heard a trembling voice from further down the street.

“W-where am I?” It obviously belonged to a woman, and from the sounds of things, she had gone and gotten herself lost. With a heavy sigh, he spun on his booted heel and started towards the source, Vigil flying on ahead to locate the source. His white coat flicked out behind him, dancing in the remnants of an ocean breeze that had snuck into the crowded streets. Metal glinted at his hip, the grip of his trusty pistol ready at a moment's notice for use. It never hurt to be prepared, after all.

Soon enough, he found her; a white mage, judging by the style of her dress and the staff that she held with a death grip. His falcon had settled on an overhanging street light, watching the two with it's pericing gaze. It was always reassuring to have the bird about, Belnor had found in their many years together. Nothing slipped past it, and time and time again it had found him supper when the day's work hadn't been profitable.

Snapping his attention back to the young woman, he sighed under his breath. Why am I playing hero, again? Before his mind could truely begin to process why the former treasure-hunter had decided to aide this stranger, Belnor's mouth took action.

"The wrong side of town." He answered, watching her with a curious stare. "Now, I normally don't intrude on other people's business, but it would certainly reflect badly on my character if I left a white mage of all people stranded here of all places."

There were figures moving about in the shadows, obviously eyeing the two, or more specifically, her. Could they really be blamed for taking interest in a beautiful young woman? No, but they sure as hell could be blamed for their chosen methods of 'courtship'. These streets had seen better days, before the vermin and scum of the city had decided to make them their hang outs. While he certainly wasn't the model of citzenship himself, as more than a few landlords could atest to, he at least had the deceny to offer a spot of help and some advice to those in a pinch.

Besides, it never hurt to have a Mage indebted to you.

Running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, there was only one thing he could do in the given situation. "Where are you staying? I can show you the way there." His emerald eye flicked up to Vigil, before returning to the quaking mage. "You do have a place to stay, right?"

[Ethereal]

Evening. It was already that time when the ship to Zanarkand Lukhail took arrived in port. He was standing at the best spot on deck, giving him the best view for the marvelous spectacle they called The Dream City. He had only heard about it's beauty from tales of the past and could only use his imagination to fill the blank sheet of Zanarkand in his mind. The image he had in his head of course, paled in comparison to the real thing. Contrast to the blackness of the sea, the city's lights that flickered and danced around the newest blitzball stadium before him was a much, much prettier sight. He took a deep breath, this was Zanarkand's air.

When the crew informed the passengers that they were cleared to disembark, Lukhail made his way into the long line of passengers that were excited about their arrival. Though it was his first time visiting a faraway place, he was not here for pleasure. Born and raised in a big city like Luca, Lukhail had thought he was used to being in huge crowds of people, he was wrong. Those that flocked Zanarkand simply took him by surprise. He never thought that there would be far more people here than he had anticipated. Different races, different faces, all of them are welcomed in Zanarkand. It suddenly became clear to him why they had called this the dream-city.

The lasting calm sure gave back this possibility to the people. Seeing the city as it was now, Lukhail suddenly felt like there was actually no more need for the Crusaders, for people like him. Although they have vowed to protect the people of Spira from Sin and fiends, reality was that Sin no longer exists, and the fiends were relatively weaker compared to when Sin was around. Mercenaries and the local authorities of the cities could very well take care of themselves from here on out. It's no wonder the Crusaders are slowly being forgotten by the people. It was a saddening thought but this was the path he chose, and Lukhail intends to live his life without diverting from his destiny; to be a stronger crusader than that Captain he admired so much, and to be much more stronger than his father was.

For him to do that, he forced the Crusaders' current head to send him out to Zanarkand to investigate some rumors that were leaking every now and then. Life was peaceful, too peaceful and it makes someone like Lukhail uneasy. Based from the past records and Crusader logs, when people thought that everything is going to be alright, Sin shows up and ruins everything. Sighing after realizing that his thoughts had wandered too far away from his mission, Lukhail dismissed the unnecessary thoughts and pressed deeper into the heart of Zanarkand. The first step is to gather information, and the best place to do that is at the local bars.

Lukhail clutched the hilt of his sword that was sheathed by his side, and kept a wary eye on the people he came across with as he walked the streets. He cautiously traversed Zanarkand's bridge with a thought in mind. He had heard some of the bad rumors about the place from other Crusaders who had been here before. According to them, since all walks of life are free to enter the city, there are bound to be thieves, swindlers and con artists alike. Not wanting to fall victim to them on his first time here, Lukhail tied his Gil pouch in front of his belt, just beside his sword where he could see it clearly.

It was only a matter of time before Lukhail came into a shocking realization.

When he grabbed his small pack to take out the map of Zanarkand he specifically made sure he had for this trip, it was also the time when he realized that it was 'picked' from him. A curse was the only thing that came out of him despite his frustration.

"Damn it..."

[Gabe]

Zanarkand, the city of opportunity. For the past several years, Sivan had done nothing but get by. His skills with machina had earned him a bit of extra windfall every now and then, and his affinity for stealth had even gotten him out of some rough situations, but most of his time had been spent alone on the open road.

The airship gently glided its way into port. The young Al Bhed waited for the crowd to die down a bit before disembarking. It was dark out, but one couldn't tell by all of the people who were still out and about. The vibrant lights, attractions, and other social gathering places seemed to ignore the hour. So many people, countless numbers, bustled through the streets. To Sivan's surprise, he hadn't garnered any strange looks. His clothing was a bit unusual, being made more for long distance travel and fighting instead of style; his weapons were also both clearly visible, but no one seemed to mind. Sivan wasn't a big fan of crowds. He'd spent the last couple of years wandering the continent on his own, not relying on others for help, and certainly not looking to settle down with other people to start a legitimate lifestyle. The large bustle of Zanarkand seemed almost foreign to him, but not necessarily unwelcoming.

The city itself was certainly beautiful. And it was easily the largest the Al Bhed had ever seen. He looked to the horizon, the city skyline aglow with lights from a plethora of sources, each warming Sivan's mood. He had truly forgotten the small joys of civilization, not having to sleep by a fire being one of them. He continued along the concrete path, his well-weathered shoes occasionally scuffing along the pavement. His garb was rather unusual compared to the citizens of this city, being built for comfort and practicality rather than style.

An hour passed by. Sivan grew tired, but there was so much to see. He didn't realize how large Zanarkand actually was, which kindled his nomadic personality. He continued along, alone amongst the bustling groups of people. He eventually came to a large bridge that stretched out over one of the many bodies of water surrounding the city. The surrounding lights were so bright it made the river look black by comparison.

As Sivan neared the apex of the bridge, he couldn't help but notice a beautiful young girl leaning over the edge. She looked troubled, but it wasn't his business. Sivan made it a point to stay out of other's business, especially in places where he was unfamiliar. As he passed her by, he narrowly missed bumping into a Spiran who was clearly drunk. The smell of alcohol...and perhaps even hydraulic fluid permeated from him. He may have mumbled something, but Sivan hadn't stopped to listen.

As he continued, his mind drifted back to the troubled girl on the bridge. What could a stranger like himself possibly do for her? Why did the very sight of her ignite a strange feeling of obligation? Such a sensation was completely alien to him.

He dismissed the thoughts as he stopped at the edge of the bridge. He took a seat on an iron bench and buried his face between his hands for a moment. He shut his eyes as he took a deep breath. Troubling thoughts were finding their way to him again. His heart sank as he posed rhetorical questions to himself, challenging the purpose of his own existence. Was trying to make a new life for himself even worth it? What did he hope to find by traveling thousands of miles?

The swell and lull of background noises droned Sivan into a strange sort of meditation. He tried his hardest to clear his mind of the damaging memories of being abandoned.

[Eternity]

Priest's Warning

Roe // Sivan // Josef

Roe stared over the edge of the water, wondering where on Spira that man had gone. She did not stay and worry though. Her eyes softened as she stared over the edge, the black water reflecting the city lights. She relaxed a good deal, leaning forward and folding her arms over the thick railing. Ah, well, it was beautiful to say the least. She had so much on her mind, she could probably use the relaxation of the moment. But as she stared into the water, something happened. Her reflection was followed by a quick moving and thick shadow of black in the crisp waters below. She felt her heart seize up into her chest as she was suddenly bumped by a drunkard. Roe turned her head suddenly, looking over the man. He seemed to have hurt his pride, his stench coming over her in soft waves that matched the salty sea breezes that filled the city's broad main roads. Her hues of rich honey covered him from head to toe, stopping to study both his face and his arm.

"In the water?" She questioned his own question. Her eyes turned and she gazed into the water, seeing nothing peculiar. Something was... off... "Of course not." Roe came back into her own body, as if she had before been ejected. The shadow in the water that was this bulky somewhat-machina man having spooked her just a bit. She reached up and sighed, pushing her fingers through her long dark chocolate colored hair while her eyes caught the glimpse of another man slipping by. What kind of fools found it so commonplace to stare? But his eyes parted and he took place upon a bench nearby. It was then it happened, as she felt her stomach softly clench inside of her, her eyes looking away from both contenders...

Time has stopped. All the people on the main bridge, and in Zanarkand actually, are frozen in place. Halted in some streamed loop of space that is on pause. She looks around, and sees no one in motion- but of course two. The machina-armed drunk, and the gazing other. Her heart races, thundering in her chest.

When she blinked, a man appeared. That same cloaked figure. He was tall and lanky, his robe seemingly... seamless, and pitch black. His mask was one of a stark white with those two intimidating red fang-shapes down the front over the black sockets of eyes. Roe stared hard, and reached to her waist. Her fingertips trailed over the thick disk of coiled silver metal that was her whip, hanging at her side. The man raised an arm, a black gloved hand halting her continuation. He turned, and saw Sivan as well, and stopped. His dark unfocused gaze even met the bulkier man.

Sound danced through the air, straight into their minds, even though some small trace of it could be hinted back to his mouth.

Follow me.

Roe watched, as the strange cloaked man then walked towards her. When she reached to stop him, he disappeared, and reappeared behind her. She turned, and the man took off running, down the bridge and towards the Red Zone; the construction district of Zanarkand that led into the Underground... Where... Where Warren and Rae, her brother, had gone missing...

Where the story begins.



Belnor // Narisa


As Belnor approached the Mage in hopes of aiding her lost sorrows, something completely unexpected became of the space. The block of light that showered over them was suddenly stiff and cold. No breeze brought on the sweet rush of salty ocean water. No shuffle brought about the fear of wary strangers. All shadows beyond the block of light that showered down from that street light above were frozen in discord of a time's complete stop. A minute is given to ponder this silence, perhaps to stop tears or ask questions as Belnor and Narisa are the only ones who appear unaffected.

It is then he appears. A tall man in a dark cloak that seems to bear no ends or beginnings, save for his hood. His mask is white and porcelain with red fang-like marks down the eye sockets- filled with darkness and unreadable dread. He steps into the light from his shadowy position. But the light only accentuates the contrasting black and white with the pop of red color over his eyes.

Follow, he said. And the man turned, and began to run through the people. A speedy runner, and quite a hasty pursuit, heading for the Red Zone...



Luke



As Lukhail let out his curse, the world around him began to change. Behind the worn out and often under-appreciated Crusader appeared the darkly cloaked figure bearing his mask of white and red. His dark sockets gazed unto the man's neck and head, as if he could see through him. No chilling breath brushed Lukhail's neck as though life radiated from this being. Only silence. Finally, a sound came so eerily to Luke's ear.

Follow me, Crusader of Old. He said, as if he knew what the Crusader's were anymore after 300 years of eroding time to make them forgotten. And forgotten the Crusaders were. Many people simply thought the very seldom handful of Crusaders today (Lukhail being one of possibly four or five) were Bevelle Guardians, or something of the like.

With that, the cloaked man turned and reappeared before the man, running away. His words echoed to Luke once more as he ran for the Red Zone of Zanarkand.

_______________________

The Red Zone is a Construction Area of Zanarkand. It is the last bit of construction needed to be done to complete the city, renewing it to its former glory beheld so long ago. This area is across the main Zanarkand Bridge. It is marked by long strips of yellow tape and glyphs that mark the walls, warning that it is a no civilian zone. It is obvious, for the machina that lays outside, and the gaping hole surrounded by rubble that leads into the strange and fated undeground beneath.

Directions:
Chase down the strange man. He calls you to the Red Zone. When you get there, you may be alone. Maybe there are others there. All you know is that something about this creature, or man, is calling you forth.

Follow him, don't let him get away!

[Ethereal]

A mix of emotions tore through Lukhail's being as his eyes saw the unbelievable spectacle before him; Zanarkand frozen in time. There was not a single soul that moved about, not a single breath drawn from the city's air, and not a single sound to be heard. Everything lay silent and still. A question to himself was well on it's way out of him when his eyes caught movement. Ghostly almost, yet hypnotizing was this man's appearance before him. Clad in black he was, and the only contrast to his being was that white porcelain mask striped with red. He stood before him unaffected by the phenomena of stand-still which led the Crusader to believe he was the cause of it. It was only when he realized he could still move that doubt contradicted his belief.

He had spoken; words that rang crisp and clear in his ears. Understandable yet full of mystery was his request. The man was beckoning the young Crusader to follow. Lukhail's training screamed at him to draw his sword, and yet his arms were bound by an invisible force preventing him from doing so. Then it happened. The man, from his ghostly stature, broke into a mad dash away from him. Taken by surprise, Lukhail could only take a deep breath and stretch the length of his legs into a full sprint.

Amidst the thick crowd of people in Zanarkand's bridge, the dark figure elegantly and effortlessly blazed through. Lukhail almost found it nearly impossible to catch up to him. He could feel the gap increase as he found himself constantly slowed down by the still obstacles that filled the bridge. I cannot lose sight of him! The thought pounded relentlessly in his mind as he desperately tried to look for a path where he could run at full speed. When all hope seemed lost, his eyes found it. There it was, the bridge's thick railing, the path he was looking for.

Veering off from the bridge's road, Lukhail used one of the benches as a foothold, then with a powerful leap stepped onto the railing. Now free from restriction, Lukhail continued the pursuit. He could care less about the dark waters below that threatened to swallow him should he fall. All he knows is that the need to stay on this man's trail was enough reason for him to take the risk. Feeling the wind on his face as he ran at full speed, Lukhail soon found that he was nearing the bridge's end. He feared that he would lose sight of the man if he got swallowed into the thick crowd of people once more, but sighed in relief after seeing that the roads were now wider, almost free from Zanarkand's populace.

Where was he being led to? Lukhail could only wonder as he landed on both feet on the open road. The dark figure was still in sight, the chase was still on. Drawing a few quick breaths to fuel his body and ease the wild throbbing in his chest, Lukhail broke into a sprint once more. He twisted, ducked, turned and even spun a few times around the lesser people frozen in the street that occasionally blocked his path. It was when there was no sight of people anymore that Lukhail found himself led to Zanarkand's Red Zone. He blazed alongside the long strips of yellow tape, past the small construction Machina that lay outside and deeper into the construction site.

Despite his best effort, he had lost sight of the cloaked man. Coming to a stop, Lukhail heaved heavy breaths in an attempt to recover from the fatigue that was beginning to creep up to him from his legs. He found himself alone, with no workers in sight and not even the slightest sign of life, just the large gaping hole before him that led beneath the city. Instinct warned him of danger, questions urged him to push on, training told him to stay on his toes. Lukhail drew his sword and stood still, waiting for his body to regain the stamina he just spent running after the man that called him here.

[Silvan Arrow]

Moments before Narisa completely lost her composure and could break down in helpless sobs, an unfamiliar masculine voice spoke from the shadows of a nearby alley, as if answering her previous question. “The wrong side of town.” Gasping softly in surprise, Narisa raised her head, clutching her staff tighter, to see a strange man approaching her. He stood about an inch taller than her, with dirty blonde hair hanging over his shoulders. She had never seen someone with such tanned, tattooed skin, but her father had told her stories about people called the Al Bhed who lived in the deserts and specialized in Machina. However, what really caught her attention was his face. He had a strange tattoo across his face that reminded her of a falcon, along with a single emerald eye that seemed to pierce through her. His other eye was stitched shut, but the tattoo covered it so well that she would have missed it in the dark if not for her training as a white mage.

As he approached closer, Narisa instinctively shrank back out of fear but relaxed when she saw that his gaze was inquisitive rather than threatening, as if he were asking what she was doing out here by herself. "Now, I normally don't intrude on other people's business, but it would certainly reflect badly on my character if I left a white mage of all people stranded here of all places." As she took a closer look at her surroundings, she could see that he was right. Dark, humanoid silhouettes staggered along the adjoining alleyways, some pausing to give her predatory glances. However, they refrained from coming any closer, which she attributed to this stranger who was inadvertently protecting her. She glanced briefly up at the light post to see a white falcon peering down at her curiously.

Running a hand through his hair as if in indecision, the man continued, "Where are you staying? I can show you the way there. You do have a place to stay, right?"

Finally finding her voice, Narisa replied shyly, “I-I don’t have a place to stay, actually. I was looking for the nearest inn when I was swept up in the crowds and got lost.” She stood on shaky legs so she could look him more easily in the eye. “I would be most grateful to you if you could show me the way.” Putting on her friendliest smile, she gave a small bow while holding her staff loosely in front of her, parallel to the ground. “My name is Narisa Faehild. What’s yours? I would be delighted to know the name of my kind rescuer.”

The words had scarcely left her mouth when the air seemed to shudder momentarily before turning eerily still. Her eyes widened. Something was…different…not right. It was as if time had stopped; even the light emanating from the light post had turned still and cold. She felt no breeze, smelled no salt, saw no movement, heard no sound other than that of her own breathing. As her gaze returned to her still unnamed rescuer, she saw that he was still unaffected. “What’s going on? Can you feel this…change in the air?”

Before Narisa could obtain any answers, a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. A tall man in a dark cloak stood in the center of the block, just outside the globe of light in the road. His cloak was like blackness personified, seeming to swallow light like a black hole, and a hood covered his head. A white mask concealed his face, with eerie red fang-like shapes framing his eyes. She gasped in alarm as he took a step forward into the light, though it only made his cloak even blacker, if that were even possible.

A voice like the chilly whisper of night sounded in her head. Follow… The cloaked man turned and fled into the shadows, weaving between the people who were still frozen like statues.

“Wait!” Without stopping to think, Narisa took off after the cloaked man, her boots pounding against the pavement as a stark contrast to the way he ghosted through the streets without a sound, moving as a specter of the night. She didn’t pause to look behind her to see if the tattooed man was following. If she took her eyes off her target, even for half a second, she would lose him, and somehow she knew that she could not allow that to happen no matter what.

On and on she ran, tripping and stumbling over her feet and weaving between the throngs of motionless people while she struggled to keep the cloaked man in sight. Only the fact that his cloak was blacker than the surroundings allowed her to keep him in sight. Her breath came in desperate pants as fatigue started to clench her in its unyielding grasp. She had never run so hard and so fast in her entire life. She started to lose ground as the cloaked man widened the distance between them, but she forced herself to keep going.

Just before exhaustion overwhelmed her entirely, Narisa found herself in the Red Zone, an area cordoned off by warning tape and glyphs that clearly told citizens to stay away. But of course, common sense had gone out the window as soon as time froze in the whole city. A gaping hole in the earth yawned in front of her like a beast’s mouth, and a single lone figure stood nearby, looking as if he had just run a marathon. The young man held an elaborate sword in one hand, surveying the area cautiously while he tried to regain his lost wind.

Too exhausted to ask what this other man was doing here, Narisa’s knees buckled and she slumped to the ground, holding her staff with both hands and leaning against it as she gasped for breath. The cloaked man was nowhere in sight, and as far as she knew, she had just gone and gotten herself into yet another dangerous situation.

[Guilty Carrion]

“I-I don’t have a place to stay, actually. I was looking for the nearest inn when I was swept up in the crowds and got lost.” She looked as if she could barely stand, and he instinctivly stepped forward should she fall over. Of course she didn't have a place to stay. Well, there went the rest of his night. “I would be most grateful to you if you could show me the way.” He returned her smile, chuckling as she did her little bow.

"No need to be some formal. I'm Belnor Teiul. It's a ple-" The words died in his throat as the air seemingly shook with some unseen force, setting his sense on high alert. Every breath rang out like an echo, the sounds of the sleepless city gone. His hand coiled around the grip of his pistol, as his eye darted about. Zanarkand was never quiet. Ever. The bodies in the dark were still, their chests not even moving to breath. Something was seriously wrong here.

Narisa's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked over to her, only to see the shadowy figure standing before her. The gun snapped out of it's holster, as he leveled it on the man's chest. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to squeeze the trigger, to take down this stranger, but his finger never moved an inch. It was as if he had been frozen solid.

Follow, The voice sent shivers down his spine, as his gun arm fell limply to his side. What the hell was this guy? The figure darted away, and before he could even speak, the mage was in hot pursuit.

"Hey! Wait!" Muffling a curse, Belnor jammed his gun away into it's holster, whistling to Vigil as he chased after the girl. The falcon screeched, rising into the air and tailing after the trio. "Narisa! Stop!" He weaved and darted around the frozen people, always managing to catch a glimpse of her fluttering robe dashing behind some new obstruction, or down a alleyway.

After what felt like hours, and more than a few instances of loosing her trail, Belnor darted into the Red Zone, and slowed to a stop behind the mage. His lungs burned for air, and he gasped hungerily to fill them, never taking his eye off the kneeling woman. Vigil circled over the massive hole, watching the depths with it's piercing glare.

Moving to her side, he offered her a hand up. "You run pretty damm fast..." He flicked his eye over to the other man present, suspiscion settling in across his features. "Be more careful from now on, alright?" It was mostly muttered, although she could likely still hear it.

Who was this stranger? And what was his connection to the cloaked man?

[Kingmaker]

Josef blinked once, twice, thrice. His head was fuzzy, but not from drink. The last time he'd felt this confused, well, it had never happened before. He shook his head, fear and adrenaline destroying the remnants of alcohol in his system. He smiled at the girl beside him, and flung his arm in front of him. He slapped his left arm on the Al Bhed runes he's recently learned meant "Start". With a sudden lurch, his whole body was launched forward by the RPMs raging in his Machina arm. With a manic grin, he shouted.

"OUTTA THE FUCKIN' WAY!"

People hit the deck, or hit his arm. Either way, he cleared a large path through the street, streaking towards the mines. He grinned, utter abandon at flinging himself headlong into this chase making his heart light. That is, until his body remembered the whiskey flying in his system. His feet stuttered, failed him. Unfortunately, the high-strung gears in the arm disagreed with such action, and instead, tried their hardest to make shredded Josef, using only the simple ingredients of Josef, speed, and concrete.

About half a block later, Josef hit the curb, launching him back into the air. His feet under him again, he lowered the settings, so he was being gradually pulled towards the mines, instead of perilously against his will. He smiled, seeing the black-cloaked figure disappear into the entrance to the mines.

"Mistake two. First mistake was bein' so suspicious."

He turned his arm down further, so it was merely purring like a content kitten, and fumbled with his left hand to find his sword. He smiled, and slipped it into place on his right arm. It clicked contently, like it was wanting this all along. Beaten up as the weapon was, it was Mithril. Even after all these years, all these fights and scrapes, it was still sharp. Of course, he'd come to Zanarkand originally to hawk it and find a better one. He'd searched countless vendors, and all of them fed him atrocious lies. Like the spiky-haired blonde male who had told him his sword had personally saved the earth. Josef laughed, and walked away, watching the man's oddly green eyes narrow in disgust. Later, he'd seen some angsty teen in leather clothes trying to trade him for a combination sword/machina gun. Of course, Josef pointed out the folly of having a gun attached to a sword. What would the point be? Rattle the sword for extra damage?

Josef shook himself out of his revelry to see himself following the trail of footsteps. Wait, had the cloaked man left footprints? Josef had watched him run through even puddles, and not see a splash. Josef concentrated, looking at the size, shape, and weight centers of the footsteps. They were light on their feet, with small feet. An Al Bhed, or a female. He could tell which.

When he looked up, Josef laughed. There were not one, but THREE people. He turned his arm off totally, and wrapped the remnants of his cloak around it. No use to scare them away. Chances were, they didn't even know how to get out of the Red Zone, let alone further into it. It was a natural phenomonon that not a single one of them had been stupid enough to start up a Machina machine and kill them all, yet. He was right behind them, still unseen for now.

"What are you guys doing here?"

[Gabe]

Sivan's thoughts drifted from his unpleasant past, and into a more serene state of meditation. He drew in a deep breath, welcoming the lightheaded feeling as he exhaled.

Suddenly, the silence inside of his head was interrupted by the abrupt cessation of the ambient noise around him. He raised his head, eyes open now, to survey exactly what had just happened. A feeling of pure stasis overwhelmed all of his senses. He sat almost as motionless as the world around him for a moment, then rose from his seat.

What the... the words rang clearly in his own mind. A knot formed in his throat as he clearly heard words that weren't his own, but still forced their way into his mind.

"Follow me." the voice said. It was audible, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was as if the sound had bypassed his ears completely and gone straight into his very being. Sivan turned instinctively, facing the bridge he had crossed only a moment ago. His gaze met the peculiar couple he'd just passed, but with a third now in company. The woman reached toward the...thing...in it's midnight black attire, but her hand met nothing but air as he relocated himself behind her. She had turned just in time to watch him break into a sprint.

Subconsciously obeying the words he'd heard seconds earlier, Sivan darted at full speed after the figure, but not as directly as the pair on the bridge had. Instead of going straight after him, Sivan took to the infrastructure of a nearby building to get a higher vantage point. Scaling buildings from the outside was risky business, but a good skill for people with Sivan's profession. As he reached the upper edge of the first building, he started running in parallel to the street, watching from above the direction he needed to go. Darkly clad as he was, the figure was easy to pick out. Without a moving background to throw off his own quick movements, he didn't blend in. The pair on the bridge had given chase as well, but Sivan couldn't divide his attention enough between tracking the cloaked man, his own footing on the rooftops, and the other two in pursuit.

It felt good to run at full speed again. Of course, the last time, he had been running away, but it was well enough. He stomped hard on the ledge of the first building, trying to keep his forward momentum up. The gap he cleared over was only a few feet, and he made the landing almost seamlessly. The chase went on; Sivan fell further back, but didn't let the figure out of his sight. As long as he kept himself high enough from the ground, his range of view would outlast even the fastest quarry.

A few moments went by. Sivan was getting tired; the jumps, falls, and dives between buildings were taking their toll on him. Finally, the robed man made one last turn down a large thoroughfare and ran in a near-perfect straight line towards the red-zone, a place that had been clearly marked as off limits to normal foot traffic. Sivan stopped at a corner building and watched as the figure disappeared into a massive cavern opening. He could see two, maybe three others already gathered at the entrance, strangely hesitant to enter.

Not sure what to make of the situation, Sivan took a more subtle approach to the gathering. As he began his approach from the rooftop, he heard the distinct sound of some sort of machina engine. He froze for a moment, and peered over the edge of the building. The Spiran from the bridge had given chase, and had bowled his way through the streets in pursuit. After a quick dejecting sigh, the Al Bhed continued to creep closer to the group at the entrance. When he finally stopped, he perched along one of the large construction vehicles' mechanical protrusions, a good 35 feet above the ground. He knelt in a low profile stance, keeping one hand firmly gripped on the railing should he lose his balance. His location would easily be given away if one of those below him had simply looked up.

As he regained control of his breathing, Sivan realized he had miscounted. The machina-equipped Spiran strolled up to the group of 3, which consisted of an Al Bhed who appeared older than Sivan, and two more Spirans; one clearly some sort of magic user, and the other one a swordsman of sorts. Including himself, there were 5 present, but hadn't the Spiran girl at the bridge been unaffected as well? Sivan readjusted his footing on the small ledge and looked back to the street he had just come across...

[Eternity]

Roe // Sivan // Narisa // Belnor // Josef // Lukhail


Time had frozen, so uniquely and timely. Her eyes immediately caught the sight of the cloaked man, and her ears captured his words as if they were starving for a sound. Her honey-colored eyes scanned over. The Al Bhed and the machina-armed man were both unfrozen, just as she was. Soon enough though, the larger of the three onlookers took off after the cloaked man. He had asked them to all follow, but this massively prepared warrior was one hell of a listener. He took off like a drunken airship having been struck by a ripe bolt of lightning. But it cleared a path, knocking the unaware and still citizens from his path and tossing their bodies into still frames mid-air. Even Roe could not resist raising a brow at this spectacle, as she followed just as quickly in his footsteps.

After what felt like a mile dash (though was perhaps shorter), they arrived to the destination where the cloaked men were no longer. They disappeared like quick shadows into the gaping tunnel. Multiples? The Red Mage took quick account of the fact that there were other people unfrozen from this time catastrophe, just like the machina-man and the Al Bhed. But her mind did not stay distracted long. She recognized this place. She recognized the glyphs that meant the place was shut off, and closed to outsiders...

Roe jumped over a large crack and landed before the wall, looking up at the red glyph. She reached up and touched it with two fingers, very gently. The glyph shifted, giving off a sudden bright glow- turning a smooth green color as the shape as well changed against the wall.

The area hummed into life, and several large lights clicked on, casting down bright beams of light. Inside, underground, the same sound formed. And inside the gaping dark hole came light, as several clicked on inside. It showed the stone steps that steeped into the level below, and Roe was not afraid to take on the opening. She jumped back over towards the entrance, and took the steps inside...


Inside, was a rather narrow (think perhaps 6ft. wide) hallway, reaching a good thirty feet before it opened into a large rectangular chamber, empty and barren, with the opposite end of the hall covered in a pile of rubble and stones. And also, when Roe reached the inside, just as the others did, she saw the dark man she had followed to get here. The man they had all followed.

In the center of the room was a cloaked figure; one for each of them. They all stood faced away, but slowly began to turn and face them, one in front of them all.

"Come, strangers, gather round. Fate is a magnet, drawing you together."

Roe pressed her fingers to her whip, feeling the steel scales beneath her fingernails as she narrowed her eyes at the cloaked men. She looked then to see the others once more. Another woman, the rest men; a crowd of six. Each and every one was a little different from the rest. One wielded pistols; an interesting sight to partake to a Red Mage like Roe who had never even handled those rather newly founded weapons.

The cloaked man before her turned and stared, his gaze unwavering and yet somewhat dead.

"What has happened to the people of Zanarkand?" Roe finally asked, speaking out, her smooth voice slightly accented from her travels to the Bikanel Islands. Her tone echoed through the room, off of the thick blocks of grayish stone that made the walls; draped in few vines and moss with little springs of water dripping off of them and running smoothly through the stone-work.

The cloaked man shook his head, the one before her giving fair answer.

"Of Zanarkand? You mean of Spira. They who are unnecessary are left out."

Roe winced and looked to the others.

"Necessary for what?"

"This answer you already know."

The woman placed a hand on her hip, rubbing the other hand across her eyes and pushing her dark locks of straight dark hair back behind her. What good answers the cloaked man gave, correct? Eh, foolish thing. But she wondered, before staring over to the man who's arm was of metal.

"Well, whatever we're necessary for, we've got quite the chosen ones."

______________________________________________________________________

Welcome to the inside of the Underground. The inside is dank, and somewhat moist. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all of stone. In the right wall are some old carvings, but they are far faded. Deeper towards the end, near the corner, is a small counter-like piece of stone that juts out of the wall. It has a semi-spherical indention in it, though it is doubtful if the sphere system still works. This place reeks of wet stone and old blood, though no blood is seen. It is silent, save for the constant background noise of water dripping from the ceiling, and running in a thin stream towards the opposite side of the room, near the pile-up of rocks and building stones. There are as many cloaked men as there are of you, all of them identical. And by identical, I mean that they are each the same size, build, color, and height. If you were to try and touch them, your hand would pass right through them. They are real in sight, though not tangible... This place, it feels... like danger.

Directions:
You have found yourself with the only group of active people in this time-stilled city. Come to the Underground chamber, and take a look around. Talk to the other people in there with you. Perhaps you even press for answers from the cloaked figures.

[Silvan Arrow]

Narisa gratefully accepted Belnor’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. She wasn’t sure if his comment about her running speed was a compliment or a complaint. “Be more careful from now on, alright?” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

“You’re right, I-I’m sorry…” Narisa replied, casting her gaze downward as an embarrassed blush covered her cheeks.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Narisa gave a start as another unfamiliar voice spoke from directly behind her. Without realizing it, she shrank against Belnor’s side and turned her head to see a tall man with a tattered cloak that concealed his right arm, his face red from exertion and…alcohol? Narisa had never tasted alcohol or been around people who drank a lot, so she couldn’t be sure. However, he didn’t make any moves to attack, so Narisa assumed he wasn’t a threat. She then realized how close she was standing to Belnor and quickly scooted sideways to a respectable distance. “S-sorry…”

Another young woman who looked about Narisa’s age, maybe a little older, also arrived in the area and activated some glyph on the wall that flooded the Red Zone with light. Now she could see the other figures more clearly, as well as the gaping hole that still lay menacingly in front of them. To her surprise, the other woman entered the hole, disappearing into the shadows to seek out what mysteries lay beneath. Maybe the cloaked man was down there? Regardless, Narisa knew she wouldn’t get any answers by just standing here. And she couldn’t explain it, but she REALLY wanted to know what was underground at the bottom of that hole.

Narisa turned to Belnor, hoping he was as curious about the underground tunnel as she and would agree to come with her. After all, she didn’t know if the other strangers in the clearing were friends or foes, though she sincerely hoped they were the former. “Let’s go check it out.” Not wanting to seem cowardly (She had done enough of that for one night, thank you very much.), she made her way towards the entrance without waiting for his answer. A series of stone steps led underground into a damp, inky blackness accented with moss along the walls. She didn’t particularly like the looks of this but went ahead anyway. She stumbled on a couple of steps that were slippery but managed to keep her footing, using her staff for support.

At the bottom of the staircase lay a barren, empty chamber barricaded with rubble at the far end. Narisa saw that the others had followed, including another man that she had not seen in the clearing. In the middle of the room stood not one but six identical cloaked men just like the one she and Belnor had followed.

“Come, strangers, gather round. Fate is a magnet, drawing you together.” The six figures spoke in unison, as if using one voice. The sound created an eerie effect and resounded against the damp stone, moss-covered walls. Narisa shivered slightly, though it wasn’t from the cold. Something about this place just didn’t feel…right. And the cloaked men…it was like they were there not but there at the same time.

Narisa stuck close to Belnor, as he was the only source of familiarity in the room. “I don’t know why, but I’m getting a really bad feeling about this place,” she whispered to him, her hands tightening their grip around her staff. The only other woman in the group asked what had happened to the other people in Zanarkand, and the cloaked men gave answers almost in the form of riddles.

Numerous questions fought for dominance in Narisa’s mind. Why were they the only ones who weren’t frozen in Zanarkand, or even in all of Spira? For what purpose were they needed that no one else could fulfill? She managed to find her voice to ask the cloaked men one question that lay at the forefront of her thoughts. “What’s going to happen to the people of Zanarkand? They’re not going to stay frozen forever, are they?”

[Ethereal]

A few more breaths and Lukhail finally caught his lost wind. During the time he was doing so, the arrival of several more people unaffected by the phenomena caught his attention. The young crusader tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike without showing any sign of movement. The element of surprise is useful if pulled correctly according to his mentor. As his eyes wandered over to the newly arrived people of sorts, a question -irrelevant to ask or so he deemed- came to his mind. What are they doing here? It does not matter anyway, they were already there and for whatever reason, it must have been related to that cloaked figure he chased so hard over here.

First was a white mage, female and looking to be on the late years of her teenage life; possibly older. Judging by the way she was slumped on hard earth, the white mage gave the crusader the impression that she was either reckless or clumsy. Nonetheless, her magic -hopefully- would prove to be useful just in case things go wrong. Lukhail, without a shadow of doubt would gladly work with her if something threatening does follow suit. Shortly after she arrived came a brutish looking Al Bhed who gave him a suspicious look which he returned in kind.

The one-eyed man was heavily tattooed and was accompanied by a bird. He wields one of the latest weapons developed in Spira, bladed pistols. Possibly a jack-of-all-trades or a mercenary, was the crusader's assumption. Moments later, the sound of Machina operating broke the silence they shared. Enter the large man with a larger arm. In an attempt to hide his Machina arm, he covered it with some sort of cloth which looked like it had seen better days. The gesture was probably to avoid drawing suspicion to himself; it did the trick. Half-man, Half-Machina eh? Interesting...

"What are you guys doing here?"

It was a question Lukhail was about to answer but was stopped when the feeling of being watched suddenly enveloped him. There was another, unseen and probably keeping distance. The crusader was about to search the premises but halted when yet another made an appearance. A female, Spiran, and... it was quite hard to tell more about her since she moved briskly as if she knew the place well. It was like she never paid attention to their presence in the area and instead, made her way into the gaping hole. Lukhail's eyes widened in surprise, but the sight of the white mage following suit simply made him slap his forehead.

"Cuh uv y..." he muttered in Al Bhed, a habit of his when surprised.

Brave, determined, reckless or stupid. They could be any of the four but now was not the time to think about it. Sword in hand, Lukhail followed suit, deeper into the gaping hole. The others followed too, probably sharing the same opinion as he, or not.

Trailing behind the woman and the white mage, Lukhail and the others soon found themselves inside a cavern, which quickly became a chamber in the eyes of the crusader as they stepped inside and he surveyed the area. It was barren, old and held stale air that reeked of mold, dust and... blood? The knowledge made Lukhail uneasy, but the sight of his quarry standing in the center of the chamber with five more of himself brought him on edge. Something's not right. The silence only helped in making the atmosphere tense. It was when the cloaked man spoke that Lukhail was able to snap himself out of his thoughts and stand on guard.

They spoke as one, welcoming Lukhail and the others inside, talking about fate acting like a magnet and drawing them together. It was the latter part of his statement that finally made some sense to the crusader. Now one of his questions were answered. Okay, so he chose us. What's next?

"What has happened to the people of Zanarkand?"

A question from the last woman who joined their Wagon of the Chosen Ones. Levelheaded... that's a good sign, the crusader thought as he listened intently to their conversation. According to the cloaked man, those who were not chosen are left out, and that they... Lukhail and the others, were necessary for something that they already know. That statement clearly did not sound the least bit reassuring. Lukhail's mind searched the Crusaders' three centuries old information -which he so painstakingly had to learn- for some sort of reference to what this mysterious being was talking about. Nothing good... we're definitely necessary for something that had nothing good written all over it. Could it be... Has Sin come back to life?! He surely hoped not.

Lukhail, bothered with his own thoughts was relieved of them when he caught notice of the white mage getting all fidgety. She stuck close to Mr. Tattoo for comfort while clutching her staff like her life was at risk. Nervous as she was, at least her head has not fallen to her feet... yet. She asked a question which truly justified her being a white mage, her saving grace. She was concerned for the people just like Lukhail was as a Crusader. Deep inside, he was hoping to hear something good for an answer.

"Why lead us here? Is there something you wish to show us?"

[Guilty Carrion]

The other man's stare didn't sit well with him, but the Al Bhed had never been a very trusting person. Hoisting Narisa from the ground was easy, as the petite mage seemed to weigh as light as air. Of course, she was doing some work to, but he’d take some pride in the fact. The booming voice behind him shattered his visage of calm, and he reacted instantly as Narisa ducked behind him.

Belnor was feeling a little too jumpy today.

He spun on his heel, pulling his gun halfway from its holster before freezing. He blinked at the large man for a moment, before letting his pistol fall back into place. "Could ask you the same damm thing..." He hissed, as Narisa scurried away from him.

"S-sorry..." She apologized way too much. Granted, wasn't that something almost all white mages did? "It's nothing to apologize for." The arrival of the young woman caused his brow to perk, but she seemingly paid them no more than a passing glance as she pressed her hand against some rune. As light flooded the area, he stared dumbfounded as she descended into whatever horrors the depths held for her. Surely she was insane. There is no way I am going in there. No way in hell. Not a flipping chance. No.

Unfortunately, someone else had other plans. “Let’s go check it out.” He looked at her for a brief moment, disbelief settling across his features. Once again, she didn’t even wait for his reply, following the other woman into the dark. He stared after her for a moment, his every fiber screaming and cursing the name of every god they could think of (and several of which were made up on the spot.)

“Cuh uv y…” The language of his people reached his ears, and the Al Bhed looked at the man who had spoken it. With a sarcastic chuckle, he finished the man‘s sentence.

“Pedlr.” Vigil landed on his shoulder, as he watched the man head into the dark. Glancing at the remaining men outside, he offered them a shrug. “Mad'c kad drec ujan fedr.” Not bothering to explain his words, Belnor started down the steps, whispering quietly to the falcon to quiet its protests. What self-respecting bird went underground?

The steady ‘drip drip drip’ of water reached his ears, and he watched as a thin stream trickled across the room. It sent every alarm in his body into overdrive, screaming that this was trouble, and that danger was just around the next bend. He pressed on though; intent on ensuring at least Narisa would leave this…place alive.

The sight of the cloaked figures sent shivers down his back once more, even as his face remained neutral at Narisa’s side. They spoke, seemingly as one, but their words caused him to scoff. What a crock of garbage… Did these…whatever-the-hell-they-were’s actually believe in fate? That everything was predetermined? What a boring way to live…

“I’ve had it since we were on the stairs. Leaving now might be the best option.” His gaze was leveled on the creature before him, his voice rising barely above a whisper. He stuck by her, wary of the others in the room. Especially the one with the machina arm. That thing could so some serious damage if it managed to hit, and he frankly didn’t care much for being on the receiving end of a blow from it. It’d be tricky to get out in such tight quarters, but…

Their offer picked his curiosity, and the ex-hunter decided to indulge it for a change. Listening to the others, he searched for one of his own. Many danced about in his mind, but one settled itself before the others, and he spoke.

“How about you tell us what you are? That’d be a nice place to start.” Vigil chirped in agreement, visibly bothered by the cloaked figures before it.

When the strange girl who had opened the path spoke, Belnor found himself grinding his teeth. He wasn’t going to be some pasty to a fickle thing like fate, not so long as he had anything to say about it.

Shooting a look over at the woman, Belnor shook his head slowly. “I’m not some chosen one. I’m just here trying to help someone out. Keep all that destiny junk away from me.”

[Gabe]

Sivan had just readjusted himself on the large machina's arm when the Spiran girl from before trotted up to the large opening in the ground. She gave little mind to those around her before advancing straight into the blackness beyond. The thief held his position for a moment, hesitant to reveal himself. He couldn't justify why he felt the need to stay hidden, but his instincts had taken him this far already.

As the others proceeded forward, Sivan gripped a nearby cable that ran downward. Slowly and carefully, he slid downward until his boots contacted the ground. The group chattered amongst themselves; it seemed that one of the Spirans spoke some Al Bhed. Sivan remained silent as he trailed the group into the now lit chambers below. The familiar smell of groundwater found its way to the Al Bhed as he followed the narrow passage downward. By this point, the hairs on the back of his neck were on end, and he had to check his footing every few steps. The anticipation of what would happen next had him nervous and uncomfortable.

Sivan was the last to enter the chamber, and he stood silently as the others posed their questions to the six... wait...what?

There were six cloaked men in the room now, but Sivan had been incredibly careful not to give himself away. It seemed that these creatures, whatever they were, had been aware of him all along, even if the other members of the group hadn't noticed him yet. There was no use in hiding at this point, and the Al Bhed accepted the fact. Without announcing himself, he walked into the midst of the group in front of him. Perhaps they had noticed him and given no mind, or perhaps not. Either way, he wouldn't speak unless spoken to, as was his custom.

The talk of 'fate' sparked skepticism in the thief. He loosed the tension in his mind and body by curling his fingers a few times and giving a very soft sigh. The signs of danger were certainly present, but substantially drowned out by the Al Bhed's strong curiosity with the situation. The questions asked by the small congregation would hopefully yield satisfying answers.

[Kingmaker]

Josef followed the others into the large chamber, knowing fullwell that it was nowhere near where they excavated. It was like... Had this place existed BEFORE the excavation? And what of the disappeared people? He shook his head. His mind was thick and sore from the alcohol leaving his system slowly.

He felt around for his flask, only to find it busted and leaking his precious liquor. He cursed lightly, and threw the useless thing down as they entered what seemed to be the main hall. He heard someone speaking, saying something about "Fate" and "Magnets". He didn't pay much attention. Fate had always been a fickle bitch with him.

Josef sighed, looking around as most of the congregation's eyes followed his Machina arm. He growled, shaking his robe from it, and letting it fall to the floor. He rolled his shoulders, the Machina arm roaring gently as it awoke from it's forced slumber. He met the eyes of the others in the room, staring them down not harshly, but with pride. He cleared his throat, looking at the figures frozen in time. Somehow, through the magic of liquor or human intolerance, he could care less. They weren't Jana.

"Fate? I'll kill fate. 'Fate' took Jana from me. 'Fate' took my bloody arm, and made me a freak. I say it's high time Fate owed me something. I'm no one's slave."

He stared defiantly at the cloaked figures, then at everyone in general.

"Yeah. My arm's a Machina. Look long and hard, because if Fate is real, I'll drive my sword through her breast with this arm."

He growled, his hangover fueling his speech.

"So we're just tools?! Merely nothing more than the Machina arm that seems to define my life? I am a man. I am not a machine. And I am CERTAINLY not your bloody tool. Treat me as equal, or stay out of my eyesight. I don't care if you're a man or woman, Al Bhed, or Spiran. I don't care if you've got a bloody chocobo living in your hair. If you think I'll be a slave again, and bow down to Fate's beck and call... I'll show you what a Machina can do."

He backed away from the group, pushing his normal hand into his eyes.

[Eternity]

Fate Brings Us
Together

The Priests each looked at their respective parallel person, each one for each one of the travelers who had come forth. To each that was presented a question, they respectively answered. The one before Narisa spoke first.

"No." He began, shaking his head no. "They will be freed of the constraints of life when time begins again."

Then another one spoke, this time to Lukhail.

"Simple. They are frozen by time's grip, a powerful magic long forgotten... And you have been led here to see what the world will be blind to. What the world has forgotten, you will all reteach."

And another one over, before Belnor.

"I am what you want me to be. What your conscious constructs me as. To all of you," It waved about a long, dark hand, "I am your Priest. Dictating to you the new world order."

Josef went ignored for a moment, as one Priest stepped out from the rest, like a leader. His head tilted to the side, slightly, and he responded to Josef simply.

"Machina is the least of your problems to be. It's power does not need to be flaunted, do believe there are far more dangerous things in this existence beyond a piece of metal strapped to flesh. While the others here, they look now, you will truly see how beyond society you are, when society itself is dead."

It was then, that things began to change.

Priest's Trial

His hood fell back, but his head was still black as coal and his mask still skin-tight against him. The Priests began to twitch, and their porcelain lips pulled into something of a jagged toothed grin, as they stood so completely straight that their knees began to bend backwards.

"The spirits call me their Priest." They all said in unison, as the sound of bones cracking sharpened and their legs bent back into that of a canine's leg, making them fall forward onto all fours. Their fingers grew lanky and sharp, and the red stripes on the mask grew upwards and tapered into long perilous horns. The Priests all laughed, their smiles thinning back to their hollow expression as they moved like fiends across the room, one for each person there.


Roe


The Priest creature stepped forward, without a snarl nor growl. So animal-like in features, yet it was quiet to the usual ferocity of a monster. It looked upon her with dark empty sockets, and its fanged grin spread wide. It leaped then, readying to attack. One arm swept into the air and the other planted into the earth. Its claws neared her, ready to devour her.

Roe jumped back, out of the way. And quickly too- thank goodness. She latched her nimble fingers to the whip at her side. She ripped it upwards, and the steel snake uncoiled, lashing forward with precision and speed. It clapped against the Priest's wrist, knocking him back.

He landed on all fours, and then brought his attention back to the woman. He leaned into a crouch, and howled, reaching up and casting a small thunder spell upon her. Sparks darted around her body until they finally grew, blue lightning dancing together in a small cage that sent shocks through her body. Roe let out a small cry of pain, but took the attack rather well. She shook off the pain of it, and readied her next move.

"Cheer!" She said, raising her free hand over her head. Soft white/blue lights danced around all seven of her newly found allies, and encouraged them. It filled them with the strength to fight, and the wisdom to defend. As such were the effects: strength and defense heightened by 1 point.

And she readied then to finish off the Priest before her...



Narisa

The Priest before Narisa snarled, immediately beginning to pace back and forth in front of her. Its dark eyes analyzed her weaknesses, saw her physical disposition. The long jagged legs moved like a spider's almost, until it readied itself to go. The thing readied a prance, and roared out a foul shriek, jumping finally. It drew its arms back, and readied a Slash attack on the White Mage.

Belnor

The Priest before Belnor wastes no time. It zig zags before the man, finally swooping low and making a diagonal cut up with the right leg before jumping back to its spot.


Lukhail

The Priest before Luke readies with a wild laugh, jumping forward. A very light attack is made, a sideways sweeping of the long claws, before the beast rebounds back. It then crouches into a defending position.

Sivan

The Priest before Sivan steps back one foot. Then, it straightens its legs, readies its head, and casts a Fire spell. The flames dance forward from the space before the chest, and the Priest dips his head back down, ready to continue battle.

Steal = (1) Potion
Use = Grenade

Josef

The Priest before Josef laughs out a horrible mock, it's dual tone voice reaching forth to summon anger from the man.

"Let us see that Machina arm at work, since you boast it as your only weapon."

The Priest jumps forward, twisting around to your back and jabbing a sharp elbow aimed to the back of the knees, a Stagger attack, before it leaps back in an agile manner back to its place.

_________________________

The prize for defeating the Priest is (1) Potion


Directions:
Fight off the monstrous creature before you! And hurry!
It feels like something is about to happen, and Zanarkand is no longer safe!

[Silvan Arrow]

Narisa listened as each of her newfound companions posed their questions or objections to the six cloaked men. They waited with seemingly infinite patience until silence pervaded the darkness once more. The Priest standing before Narisa, the one who had led her to this place, answered her question first: “No. They will be freed of the constraints of life when time begins again.”

Narisa's breath caught in her throat, and her face went deathly pale. "W-what?! No! You can't do that! Those people haven't done anything wrong! You can't just kill them!" However, her words died in her throat as the Priests began to twitch and change before her eyes.

“The spirits call me their Priest.” Their voices resounded against the cold stone walls in an eerie harmony, and sound of cracking bones sent a wave of nausea through Narisa’s stomach as the Priests dropped to all fours like feral animals.

“W-what’s happening?” she asked no one in particular, her voice trembling in fright. She gasped as the four-legged Priest fiends stalked and skulked across the room. She barely heard the other woman cast Cheer, but the white and blue lights at least managed to take the edge off her fear so she could focus on the Priest currently approaching her like a hunter stalking its prey.

The Priest bared its teeth in a blood-curdling snarl, sending waves of chills down Narisa’s spine. She was helplessly trapped in the creature’s predatory gaze as it paced in front of her like a spider. Trembling hands gripped her staff painfully until her knuckles turned white. She had never raised her hand or even her voice against another, and now she was suddenly face-to-face with a fearsome monster that looked like it could easily kill her with one swiped of its jagged claws. She cast desperate glances from side to side, but her companions were all engaged in their own battles against these creatures. White Mages didn’t fight on the frontlines. They supported and healed while counting on the protection of seasoned warriors. How could she even hope to last against this thing?

The Priest didn’t give her a chance to think any further. It gave an ear-splitting shriek and pounced, bringing its claws to bear with a Slash attack. Narisa screamed, an involuntary reflex, and held out her staff with both hands. By some stroke of sheer luck, the Priest’s talons connected with the staff, stopping mere inches from Narisa’s face. However, the creature had the advantage of physical strength, and it bore down with all of its body weight. Narisa stumbled, unable to hold back the Priest, but managed to fall to the side so its claws connected with the ground instead of her body. Without stopping to think, she yelped in fright and whacked the Priest on the head with the top of her staff. Unfortunately, all her blow managed to do was make the thing angry. Narisa scrambled to get to her feet but tripped over the hem of her robe. The Priest seized the opportunity to strike, and Narisa cried out in pain as its claws connected with her right arm and drew blood.

Now the beast was just toying with her. She didn’t stand a chance, and they both knew it. The Priest backed away and continued circling her, its ceramic face contorting into an expression of sick pleasure at seeing the blood flow from the gash in her arm. Narisa desperately reached for her inner well of magic, remembering the lessons she had learned from the healers in her village. ‘Healing is the magic of light and life. Channel those desires, and imagine your magic making them a reality.’

Narisa raised her staff as she felt that inner source swell with power. “Cure!” Soft white lights glowed and danced around her wound, healing the damaged skin and stealing away her pain. However, her actions clearly displeased the Priest; it apparently had wanted to see its prey squirm more instead of heal herself. It apparently had had enough of taunting its prey and instead howled and charged head-on. Narisa raised her staff to try and block the attack again, but luck wouldn’t help her this time. The creature knocked her back almost effortlessly, and her staff flew from her grip as she fell to the ground with a startled cry. The Priest crouched over her prone form, raising its foreleg and claws high in the air to deliver the final blow. Crying out again, Narisa covered her head with her arms in a feeble attempt to protect herself and scrunched her eyes shut as she braced for the impact of the creature’s deadly talons…

[Guilty Carrion]

“You’re telling me I want to see some creepy freak with no face?” The sarcasm rolled off his tongue, as he cast curious glances at the other robed men in the chamber. Something just wasn’t right about this, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. “Why are w-” He didn’t have time to finish his question, as the ‘priests’ began to shift into…something. This was why he always listened to his instincts.

"The spirits call me their Priest."

Staggering back a step, the ex-hunter watched in horror as they turned into great beasts, and began to stalk the group; darting about the room with ease as each picked a target. With practiced grace, Belnor’s pistol was at ready and it’s barrel roared at the creature raced towards him, dodging every bullet with ease. “Come on!” The Al Bhed jumped back, Vigil taking flight from his shoulder, watching carefully for an opening. The priest closed the distance, it’s diagonal strike raking across his chest.

Biting off a swear, he slashed the bladed edge of his pistol across the creatures face as it moved to retreat, earning a growl from the creature. “You like that, priest? I’ve got more for you, so come get some!” The dance of white and blue magic filled his gaze for a split second, and he felt his courage swell in his breast. There was no where to run, so the only thing to do was attack!

His gun barked again, before dropping it’s clip and having another slammed home by the experienced hands of it’s master. The creature showed no signs of stopping, but Belnor’s attention was immediately drawn by Narisa’s scream. Another beast had her in it’s sights, and was wasting no time in driving the powerless white mage back easily. “Pedlr!”

His own priest charged in, and he leapt backwards to avoid another strike of it’s claws. His back crashed against the wall, forcing the air from his lungs as he struggled back to his feet. “I’ve had enough of you!” Levelling the pistol on the charging beast, he grinned darkly. “Night night. Sleep attack!” His finger squeezed the trigger, and the gun barked as the shot raced towards it’s mark.

He didn’t wait to see if it hit, moving quickly towards the fallen Narisa. “Narisa! Hang on!” Dropping into a slide, he slid to the white mage’s side, his body quickly coiling around hers to shield Narisa from the blow. The claws dug into his back, and he bit off his shout. “Eat. Lead. You. BASTARD.” He didn’t notice the blood that fell from his lips as he spoke, as his hand spun up from his side. The gun drove up into the priest’s mouth, and a cold grin spread across his face as he emptied the clip into the creatures head.

[Silvan Arrow]

An eerie sense of calm settled over Narisa as she realized she couldn’t get out of this situation alive. ‘This is it. I’m going to die…’ However, the deadly rake of the Priest’s talons never came.

“Narisa! Hang on!” Her eyes flew open in a mix of relief and surprise. Belnor! The Al Bhed gunman slid along the ground and curled his body around hers just as the Priest’s talons descended. She gasped in wide-eyed shock as Belnor took the blow meant for her, watching his face contort in pain to hold back his shout of pain. That flood of pain beat at her empathetic senses. “Eat. Lead. You. BASTARD.” Belnor jammed his gun into the Priest’s mouth and pulled the trigger. Narisa couldn’t tell what scared her more: the sight of the Priest’s head exploding from the gunshot or the bone-chilling grin on Belnor’s face. Regardless, Belnor’s attack worked. The Priest slumped to the ground lifelessly, a wispy trail of smoke curling from the impact point of the bullet. Across the room, a second Priest, apparently the one that had originally attacked Belnor, also lay in a defeated, crumpled heap.

With the immediate danger out of the way, Narisa barely registered the sounds of the others who were still fighting. Right now her main concern was for the wounded man in front of her, the one who had risked his life for hers. She scooted back from him just enough so she could shift to a kneeling position and examine his injuries more closely. Blood stained the front of her robe, and she realized with a start that it came from a diagonal gash across Belnor’s chest. More blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. Gentle hands moved delicately over his upper body, looking for additional wounds and shifting him so that she could see the deep, jagged gashes on his back, gashes that were meant for her. Moving back around to face Belnor, Narisa’s expression broke into one of sorrow. “I’m so sorry!” Her voice cracked on that last word. “You’re hurt because of me!”

Her hands groped along the cold, dark ground, feeling for her staff. She located it a few feet from where she had fallen and held it in one hand while placing the other gently over the wound on Belnor’s chest. She closed her eyes and focused her magic, imagining waves of light and healing pouring into the wound. “Cure!” Soothing white light flowed from her palm, healing the worst of the damage until the only reminder of the wound was a pale pink line where the skin had knit back together. Narisa moved to tend to the gashes on Belnor’s back. These were much deeper and would require a far greater input of her healing magic. Again, she placed her free hand over the bleeding wounds and closed her eyes. As she called up the remainder of her magic, she poured her own emotions into the spell to give it extra strength: gratitude for Belnor’s sacrifice to save her, affection for her newfound friend, and the overwhelming desire of any White Mage to steal away another’s pain. “Cure!” The magic left her in a rush, leaving her shaky and light-headed, but the spell did the trick. The wounds sealed over, leaving only faint lines of scars that would quickly hear on their own.

The string of Cure spells had nearly drained Narisa of all her magic. After all, she was just a novice White Mage. However, she hadn’t forgotten the blood still trickling from Belnor’s lips. Her fingertips traced lightly over the wound, healing it with one last whispered Cure spell, and then lingered there briefly. Narisa’s expression softened. “This is the second time you have saved me tonight. I’ll never be able to thank you enough…” she whispered. She let her hand fall to her side as she slumped back on her heels, completely spent and drained of magic, yet happy she had succeeded in healing her rescuer.

[Ethereal]

".................."

His questions were answered. But the only reply he could come up with is utter silence. Was this what he was waiting for all this time? Is this the very chance to finally make the Crusaders' name renowned in all of Spira once more? If so, why was he having mixed feelings about this? Why was there a pinch of fear? Why was there so much doubt, so much confusion and far to great an anger welling up inside Lukhail? The young crusader's heart pounded wildly inside the cage of his chest, as if signaling the coming of a fate Spira should never experience again... ever.

"The spirits call me their Priest."

The words came out in unison, and just as they said it, the cloaked beings transformed into fiendish things. Lukhail watched their transformation unfazed. A part of him had been expecting something like this to happen and he was glad he never doubted his instinct. The crusader gripped the hilt of his sword which he never sheathed throughout the conversation tighter. He took his stance and steeled himself for combat, he was ready to take on the first thing that breaches his attack range.

It laughed, horrible in tone and evil in every aspect. The fiend then jumped up towards the young crusader with a sideways slash of its long claws. Lukhail avoided with a step back and upon regaining his footing, soft blue and white lights began to dance around him giving him more courage than he already had to fight. It was a light swing, probably intentional with the object of testing the waters against the crusader. The priest fiend was right in doing so for Lukhail would have ended his existence in one swing had he not jumped back.

All the others inside the chamber engaged their respective fiends. Lukhail strongly believed that the others are more than capable of handling themselves in combat. He actually had only one person to worry about, the white mage. As the fiend stood from a distance, Lukhail's emerald green hues flicked over to where the white mage stood. "Seems Mr. Tattoo had her covered." he said with a light shrug of his shoulders then focused on his own battle.

The fiend dared not to come at him again making Lukhail switch plans to offense. What good was there to let such a fiend draw one more breath? None. Taking the initiative, Lukhail readied the blade of his sword with a slight twist of his wrist. The crusader then, without hesitation, charged forward in a straight line towards the fiend followed by a devastating overhead slash when he got in range. Lukhail's swing was aimed for a vital point, particularly the neck thus, hitting the fiend for critical damage and ending its life in the process.

The crusader stood before the corpse and swung his sword in one swift motion to rid the blade of any stain from the fiend. Lukhail stared at the corpse with a question floating inside his head. Will the people of Zanarkand live if their group managed to defeat the lot who caused the phenomena outside?

"I sure hope it turns out that way..."

[Kingmaker]

"The spirits call me their priest."

Josef smiled, rolling his shoulders. He could feel a tension in the air, a rolling kind of pressure over his body. Don't ask how, but his body always sensed a fight. His mind was still reeling from the priest's rant, quite unexpected, it was.

"Yeah? Something more dangerous, eh? I'll see about that. Lemme guess, you're some ancient evil?"

He cracked his neck now, staring at the priest who stood in front of him. Slowly, it changed. It grew, became more bestial, more animalistic. Josef took a step back, his eyes widening. It looked too similar, too familiar. He knew deep down, that it wasn't the same beast that took his arm and his sister.

"YOU BASTARD!"

He growled, slipping his sword back into his Machina arm. The curved Mithril Sword shone in the dim light. Josef looked around, watching the others already in battle against the priests. Some were injured, others were faring quite well. He looked to his priest, just in time to watch the monstrous mouth speak.

"Let us see that Machina arm at work, since you boast it as your only weapon."

It launched at him, slamming a horn into his chest. It was on the right side, parallel to his heart. He stumbled back, falling backwards into the cave wall. He stood up, left hand covering the bleeding wound. He shook his head, his shaggy hair now coated with sweat, grime, and moisture from the cave wall. He lumbered forward, one foot in front of the other. It was slow, painful work, but eventually, he was running straight at the priest-beast. He jumped, slapping the start button on his arm. It roared to life, swinging the curved Mithril Sword in a large arc. The blade bit into the priest's horn, clipping through it like the sharpened bone was nothing more than butter. The priest roared, swinging it's good horn at Josef. He caught a blow to his unprotected left arm, the horn nipping through his bicep. The extra energy from the blow knocked him into, and partially through, a thin cave wall. He pulled himself from the debris, able to feel himself aching and bleeding all over. He knew he'd survive this, but his pulse roared in his ears.

In the distant past, he imagined warriors and mages alike unleashing devastating blows and nuclear-level spells when they felt like this, barely alive. But alas, he couldn't tap into his reserves yet, he wasn't aggravated enough yet. He stood up, spitting out a chipped tooth fragment.

"You're gonna have to do better. I won't die like this. I've got more to me than that!"

He shambled forward again, looking the priest in the eyes. It roared, racing towards him for it's final charge. With an audible click, Josef removed his sword, switching it to his left hand. He pushed his right arm in front of him, defending against the incoming charge. The priest's horn was deflected against the metal, sending it careening far to the left. Josef stood, sliding the sword back. He walked casually to the flipped-over priest. He swung his arm once, cutting a swathe of red across the thing's stomach.

"I."

He stabbed into it, twisting with his whole body.

"Am."

Finally, he ripped the blade out, listening to the bestial, dying howls.

"Alive!"

He fell to one knee, his arm suddenly too heavy for him.

[Gabe]

As the answers came, the skepticism became more and more fleeting. The Al Bhed fully understood the undeniable truth of magic, but fate had, up until a few moments ago, been little more than a blanket excuse used to explain adversity to children. This event was too well constructed to have been random. The members present were all clearly versed in battle in one way or another, which foreboded violence in the thief's immediate future.

Sivan started to pose a question to the Spiran who had manipulated the unusual stones above. Her knowledge was certainly more in-depth than anyone else's. Before he could ask, the Priests' demeanor changed. The sickening sound of joint hyperextension and bone cleavage sent small sparks of fear through Sivan. He nervously pursed his lips as his hand found the kilij's grip. He didn't waste time drawing it slowly to avoid the loud sliding sound of metal against scabbard. This was an open combat situation, stealth was not an option with this many enemies.

Sivan steeled himself for the attack, but was taken off guard by the blast that came from the creature. He folded his arms across his face and leaned into the blast. It was all he could do to withstand the torrent of fire. Had it been expected, or maybe even a physical attack, it would have been possible to avoid or even counter. The Al Bhed held his breath as the fire danced across him. The thickest armor in the world wouldn't have helped against the flames born of magic. The pain wedged its way down to his very bones, but adrenaline stopped Sivan from crumpling under the influence of the attack. He stomped forward into a lunge as soon as the beast came off of the offensive. As he came down, he reached for his second blade, a trick he hoped the Priest wouldn't catch.

Sivan wasn't counting on the first strike to land on target. As expected, the dog-like creature vaulted to the side, avoiding the kilij. Sivan persisted with the attack, using his momentum to strike with his gauche blade across the creature's shoulder. It landed squarely, cutting deep into the muscular limb and burying itself in the bone, where it became stuck. As the Priest recoiled in pain, it jerked the small blade from Sivan's grasp, staggering him backwards. It came back with a full on rush, trying to tackle the thief. Sivan curled downward, again leaning into the oncoming attack, but didn't expect the feint. The beast leaped straight over him and ran it's claws across his back, leaving jagged cuts from his shoulder blades down to his left lower back. The pain was incredible, but stopping in the midst of this deadly dance meant certain death. Sivan assumed a crouching stance with one leg cocked back, and one hand planted firmly in the ground. His armed hand pointed the blade directly at his opponent. He needed to end the fight quickly before he succumbed to the pain.

The Priest monster seemed to be on the same thought pattern. It roared loudly as it dashed in for a final attack. It bared it's teeth and outstretched it's good claw, the right still immobilized by the gauche blade buried deep in the shoulder. Sivan parried the claw, guiding it away from his body in a hooking motion, and directing the edge of his kilij across the jawline of the beast. As he did, he lunged forward again, throwing himself and the fiend to the ground. He landed on top this time, his blade still in the creature's mouth. It fought furiously to push Sivan back, but the added strength from the 'Cheer' given by the Spiran girl came at the key moment in the fight. Sivan placed his left hand along the spine of his blade and pushed down in a guillotine motion, cleaving through jaw, skull, and eventually spine. The beast choked and snarled through it's own blood as the blade separated it's lower jaw from the head, and eventually gave one resounding yelp before falling limp.

Sivan forced the blade out of it's resting place before shoving the beast to one side and retrieving his second blade. The fight was still going on, but it had shifted in their favor. One for one, Sivan wasn't the greatest fighter, but against multiple enemies who could be distracted, he would find his place as a valuable part of any fighting team. As he stood, he readied his guard and surveyed the battle, looking for an opportunity to assist one of his newfound allies.

[Eternity]

Battle Over!
Level Up!

Roe:
Strength +1
M. Offense +1

Narisa:
M. Offense +1
M. Defense +1

Josef:
Strength +1
Defense +1

Sivan:
Defense +1
Evasion +1

Lukhail:
Strength +1
Evasion +1

Belnor:
Strength +1
M. Defense +1

______________________________________________

The Priests all moved together, forming one again, human in shape.

"I must tell you something, each of you... Heroes..." He began, tilting his head upwards to the ceiling. Holding his arms out, the air began to grow hollow, thin and hard to breathe.

"The end is near. Only a set few can decide the fate now. Will you rewrite a story long forgotten? Or will you let the story end here?"

The Priest turned his head forward, moving his hand over the mask. Drawing his hand, long black fingers over the shape of it, he looked as though removing it. But he wasn't. Instead, when he moved his hand, his eyes could be seen- shut.

Parting them open, he truly looked at all of them, with eyes of a dull hazy orange.

"You decide."

Ikarus Awakens

The ground began to shake, the dusty particles on the cobblestone floor of gray beginning to shift about. Spouts of powdered stone trickled down from the ceiling. Priest turned his head downwards, and stared at the floor. Stared at the bits of gravel bouncing around.

"It begins."

The door far behind him at the southern end of the chamber began to glow, light erupting from the cracks in it. Soft hums were heard, hums of pyreflies that began to pass through the door, coming into the chamber from inside of the Fayth. Priest tilted his head upwards again, blinking. Pyreflies began to break free from his form, causing him to slowly fade out of reality, becoming translucent.

"Go forth. Save Spira."

And the Priest disappeared in a blinding light that erupted from behind him, from the Fayth's door that broke open...


The light was created by the sudden rich flow of pyreflies ripping through the gaping space, whipping past the few people alone in the chamber.
Roe fell back, struggling to stay standing. She covered her eyes with her arm, having trouble breathing. Stepping to her left, she turned and began to run, reaching through the storm of pyreflies to grasp a hold of the young White Mage. She found her arm, knowing it was her by the size of it. Then it was to the others. Continuing, she reached and pushed to find others. But by the time she reached the the Machina man, and Sivan, the pyreflies were less and less.

And above the ground, could be heard the many screams of frightened individuals, running from hundreds of Priests upon the Zanarkand Bridge.

Roe turned her head up, looking with frantic dark hazel eyes over the other individuals in there. The Machina man, the one with the pet falcon, the Al Bhed, the White Mage, and the Crusader. And herself; that made six.


The sound of footsteps could be heard from the south end of the chamber, and Roe made the mistake of turning her head to see.



"R-... R-...R-Rae?" She could barely get the breath, much less the name, to form speech. Her eyes widened and she released Narisa's arm, stepping forward.

"Rae?" She said again. There were similar features, but the figure was much different from her sweet brother. Far different...


The man stepping forth from the now open Fayth was so beautifully strange. Around him swirled pyreflies, calmly dancing around his feet in almost playful fashions.

The man parted his pale lips, stepping forward again, the extension of long legs draped in black pants with soft hazy blue straps falling from a belt of silver at his waist. His chest was bare but for two black straps that rose up from his pants and crisscrossed his strong sculpted abdomen. His body itself was pale and almost white, marked here and there with tiny shimmering light blue lines and swirls of tattoo-like proportions, seeming to shift and change position under the light. His hair was long and a shade of blue-ish ivory with a strange hue of blue to it. His face was softly proportioned, shapen to look gentle and angelic. His lips soft, his eyes shut- even having strange blue lashes. The man had not much to accentuate him, but he looked to be immortal, if immortal had a look to it.

Ikarus.

He turned up his head, taking what was suspected to be his first breath, chest expanding as he breathed. His long pale fingers stretched and recoiled, repeating the motion like a butterfly trying to adjust to its wings once out of the cocoon.

Finally, his head leveled back, and the tall man let a smile dance over his lips. A soft smile. Almost innocent- almost. And his eyes opened, a shade of ethereal blue at the edge of the iris, and white around the pupil. And in those eyes, if one were to look, they would feel haunted. There was something cryptically frightening about those eyes, about this man.

Roe stepped forward again, looking at Ikarus- who seemed to not even notice that the others were inside the chamber.

"Rae, please tell me it's you!" She cried out, her voice echoing in the underground chamber as it rattled with the frailty of collapse in the future. Finally, Ikarus saw her. He didn't turn his head, nor even his body. He was completely still. It was just his eyes that seemed to slide over until the pupils adjusted to the sight of her.

"Ranona." Ikarus said slowly. He blinked once, smiling again. He was not her brother, just thankful for the memories the pyreflies of his death provided.

Roe broke, bursting into a run towards him. He knew her! It had to be Rae! He was okay!

But as she came close, Ikarus raised his hand just barely, a feathery gesture.
And Roe felt her feet disconnect from the ground as a force seemed to slam into her side and throw her across the chamber into the far wall next to the entrance. Like a ragdoll, some magic had swept her off her feet and thrown her as if she had been hit by an invisible train.

There, she crumbled, becoming a simple slumped mass on the floor.

"My name is Ikarus." He said, eyes never having left her. "Not Rayg. He is gone."




The pyreflies at his feet swirled up and shot forward as Ikarus began to walk to the entrance, moving and transforming from soft and beautiful pyreflies into fiends. These fiends were blue, long and elegant in appearance. They each formed a humanoid fiend, body's slumped and limbs being drawn about like puppets. They're hair and claws and clothes were white, and their eyes were solid white as well. They leered towards the heroes as they made sure no one approached Ikarus as he left. These haunted souls that were cast out by their new domination, by their owner. Ikarus, made of thousands of lost souls.


And up he went, to the Zanarkand Bridge...


Upon the Zanarkand Bridge, the tall mysterious man appeared. The screams were quieted by the sheet of pyreflies overhead, blocking away the sky and creating a dome around the city. With every step Ikarus took, destruction seemed to begin. Playing into reality.

As he came to the Bridge, the many Priest forms began to appear, then disappear, until one was left, slowly fading away into nothingness as he stood watching.

Buildings began to crumble, and blood began to taint the dark water below. Screams echoed loudly into the night as Ikarus walked towards nowhere in particular, just seeking to learn of his new playground....

Directions:
Head up to the Zanarkand Bridge, and hurry! Disaster is about to strike. Though it seems unlikely, you need to ban together. The city is being destroyed! Is it Sin all over again? Nonetheless. If you truly are heroes, you must go and try to stop this demon!

[Silvan Arrow]

As the battle came to a close, Narisa felt…stronger somehow. Like she had attained a level of strength in her magic abilities. At the very least, she regained enough magic that she would be able to cast a couple more Cure spells if necessary.

She heard a sound behind her, and she turned and gasped as the Priest who had attacked her suddenly came back to life. How could this be? She had seen Belnor shoot him, had seen his body crumble to the ground! As it turned out, all six Priests were still alive, and they merged into a single, humanoid entity in the center of the room. The Priest continued to speak in riddles about fate and how they were suddenly in the position of rewriting a story. But a story of what? Before Narisa could ask, the door at the far end of the chamber began to glow, and the air swarmed with clouds of pyreflies. Their presence raised goosebumps on Narisa’s arms and sent a shiver down her spine. Pyreflies were creatures of innate magical power, and her own magic resonated with them instinctively.

Suddenly the Fayth’s door burst open, blinding the room with the light of the pyreflies. Unable to see, Narisa covered her eyes with one arm and blindly reached for Belnor. However, she found her arm grasped by another, smaller hand, and the owner of the hand dragged her along as if she weighed nothing. Within a few seconds, she found herself pressed into a tight group with the others and finally able to see again. She could clearly see everyone in the group of six for the first time, and the other woman still held onto her arm. However, the sound of screams from above drew Narisa’s attention. On the one hand, the people of Zanarkand had apparently unfrozen; on the other hand, they screamed as though they were running for their lives. Narisa felt completely and utterly helpless, knowing they were suffering and that she couldn’t do anything to help them.

“R-…R-…R-Rae?”

The other woman’s trembling voice drew Narisa’s gaze to the open door, where a strange, yet beautiful man clad in blue, white, and black stood like one who had just awoken from a long slumber. The man smiled, yet an aura of wickedness lay simmering beneath the innocent façade. He opened his eyes, deep orbs of blue like the ocean rimmed in white, and Narisa instinctively shrank back as a chill ran down her spine. Those limpid orbs held the promise of death and seemed to stare through her, piercing down to the depths of her soul.

“Rae, please tell me it’s you!”

Narisa wondered, who was this Rae person that the woman kept calling? The way she spoke, Narisa assumed he was an important person, perhaps a lover or a family member.

“Ranona.” The woman dashed toward him at what was apparently the sound of her name. But then, without warning, she went flying backwards through the air and slammed harshly into the unforgiving stone wall. Narisa was too stunned to move as the woman slumped to the ground unconscious. She wanted to go to her, to check for injuries, but her limbs refused to cooperate. She had feared the Priests, but this man was downright terrifying.

“My name is Ikarus. Not Rayg. He is gone.”

The rest played out like a bad dream. Fiends spawned from the pyreflies and formed a protective barrier around Ikarus, allowing him to leave undeterred for the panicking city above. An endless cacophony of screams echoed into the stone chamber, and Narisa could only imagine the terror currently taking place. As soon as Ikarus had departed, Narisa forced her frozen muscles to move, and she dashed to the fallen woman’s side to kneel beside her. “Are you okay? Please wake up!” Easing her arms underneath the woman, she carefully moved her so that she lay flat on her back. Narisa’s medical training kicked in, and a quick onceover told her that the woman didn’t have any broken bones or serious injuries. She drew on that small reserve of magic she had regained. “Cure!” The spell took effect quickly, ensuring that she would wake up and recover.

Satisfied that the woman was out of danger, Narisa turned her gaze to the four men. For once, only determination and not fear shone in her eyes. “We have to stop him. We can’t let him hurt anyone else!” Her voice didn’t tremble, and her hands gripped her staff with resolve. She wanted to help those people in trouble, but she couldn’t do it alone. They would all have to work together. Like it or not, they all needed each other more than anything now. Her gaze swept over all of them and rested on Belnor last. “Please…”

[Guilty Carrion]

Chuckling darkly, Belnor pushed himself off the ground, his ragged smile shaking as the mage quickly tended to his wounds. “Apologies, apologies. Don’t worry about it.” Straightening out, he allowed himself to smile a moment longer before a dull look settled across his features. “I’m repaying a debt I made myself. You don’t owe me a thing.” Before she could inquire as to what he meant by that statement, the ex-hunter looked to the re-animated priest, his emerald eye flashing dangerously at the strange creature.

“The only end that’s near is yours, when I put a round through your skull!” He approached the figure, snarling as his metal stared the priest in the face, faltering for a brief moment when his eye locked with the orange orbs of the man. “I did decide.” Squeezing the trigger, the soft sound of a *click!* reached the gunman’s ears, and a look of disgust spread across his features.

His hand darted forward, trying fruitlessly to grab the fading figure before him. “What are you talking about?!” Next thing he knew, his eye was blinded by the sudden surge of light from the shattered door. Holding a hand up in a desperate attempt to see, the Al Bhed couldn’t make out much more than a silhouette until the light’s died down, and what he saw sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Casting a glance over his shoulder to the woman from before, he raised a curious brow. “You know this guy?” The figure moved, and he took a hesitant step back, the newcomer seeming to almost…pulse power, and a knot settled at the pit of his stomach. With a single flick of it’s hand, the…thing sent the other girl crashing into the wall, before a shield of fiends surrounded him as he ascended from the darkness of the room.

The gunman moved towards the stairs, as the screams began to echo down from above. The sounds of pain and death crowded his senses, before Narisa’s voice drew his gaze. He was silent for a moment, before giving his head a slow shake. “You’re crazy, Narisa…but I‘m not much better for following you here.”

With a mighty screech, Vigil soared up and out of the cave, heading after the strange figure. With a roll of his eye, and a chuckle, he took the first step up the stairs, before looking back at the group. “Well then, how about us ‘mighty’ heroes go save the day then, eh? I bet ya there is one hell of a pay check from saving the city.” With a cheeky wink, Belnor darted up the stairs, his eyes locking onto the soaring form of Vigil.

From the look of things, the man was headed, or at the Bridge already. He sighed, although the sound was lost in the chaos around him. Hundreds fled in the opposite direction, desperate to escape the monster now rampaging through the city. “How the hell did I get myself in this situation..? Oh right, I thought I’d be nice to someone…this’ll teach me to have a conscience.” Sliding a new clip into the chamber, Belnor fought down the rising panic in his gut. “Assuming I survive this, of course…”

[Ethereal]

Stranger things began to happen inside the confines of the chamber. Apparently, the priest fiend he just slayed came back to life and joined into one. This time, it took the form of the one who led them here. He started with his fate speech once more and added Heroes to it, what more could happen that would surprise the young crusader? The shaking of the earth followed by the screams of Zanarkand, bone-chilling and horrifying. Although fear was one of the emotions a crusader should not have, with the situation suddenly turning for the worse, Lukhail found himself having difficulty dealing with the cursed emotion.

As the earth continued to rumble, the cavern walls began to shake. A part of the cavern's wall on the far end crumbled and the poorly lighted place suddenly bathed in blinding light. The young crusader used his left hand to shield his eyes from the light. It was the time to think fast, and instinct along with his own experience told him that not all that brings light are good. Lukhail jumped a few steps back, closer to where the others were within the cavern. He couldn't see... yet.

The priest that led them to the cavern vanished as if swallowed by the light, no trace of him remained. Whether it was a good thing or not, the answer to it was held by the man that took the priest's place. The surge of bright light was no doubt caused by countless pyreflies that danced around the new mystery man. But for them to dance around one man could only mean two things, either this man is a great source of life energy or he's a walking symbol of death. One of the group apparently did not want to stay and find out but when she looked at the man, it was clear that the ties that bind are present between them. She called the man Rae.

It was when Lukhail gazed into the man's eyes that he felt himself suddenly powerless. It felt like this man could strip him or anybody else of their right to live on a whim. He was a symbol of death and it was proven when he responded with a violent push to the woman he called Ranona using... magic? Lukhail watched as the woman flew the span of distance from the man to the cavern wall. After that, the man said that his name was Ikarus and that this Rayg person was no longer there.

That's it! This guy's dangerous!

Yes, he had deemed the man called Ikarus as a threat but Lukhail could not fathom how great of a threat the man really was. Only when he found out that his limbs were actually unresponsive that he came to accept the fact that Ikarus was more than he could handle alone. The young crusader gritted his teeth as he watched the pyreflies take the form of fiends and escorted Ikarus out of the cavern unscathed.

Heroes... he knew the word but what it truly meant eluded him. Does it mean they have to fight and prevail against things like that man earlier? What exactly does it take to be a hero? Just how much do they have to sacrifice? The questions were asked in his mind in an attempt to ease the slight trembling of his fists. He cared not for the answers, he just wanted to get his limbs conscious again!

“We have to stop him. We can’t let him hurt anyone else!” cried the white mage.

“Well then, how about us ‘mighty’ heroes go save the day then, eh? I bet ya there is one hell of a pay check from saving the city.” replied the tattooed man.

Ah but of course! It was not yet too late! Zanarkand has not yet fallen and the people are still crying to be saved. Why did he want to be a crusader in the first place? That's right, it was because of events like this! And what should he be doing? He should be performing his duties as a crusader to the best of his ability. Lukhail closed his eyes for a moment and listened to Zanarkand's plea for help. When he opened his eyes once more, a new found resolve was evident in his emerald hues. He was going to answer Zanarkand's cry for help. Forget about being a hero! In his own way, just by being a crusader, he already was.

"I'm with you... white mage."

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