Revenge

So this is another fic from me. It's set around the lines in 'As Time Goes by', by Xenolord, that say

"Rayne... All I remember of Rayne is how she died. It was the stupidest thing you'd ever think, and you won't believe me when I tell you... but she was killed in a freak accident when a Drakel scientist was showing the people of Battleon how to use guns. I guess those bullets gotta come down somewhere...

"Lizzie was shattered with Rayne's death, and went on a five year rampage throughout Drakel lands, killing countless of them, trying to bring Rayne back. She blamed the Drakel for Rayne's death... and I suppose in a sick way, she was right. Her blood rage was finally ended when she was brought before the Drakel courts in their Super City of Ren-Tiak, found guilty and executed. If that wasn't enough, they hung her corpse outside the city for all to see... She was such a sweet little girl..."

This is sort've the sneak peak. I'm still working on the rest of the story, and I'll post it when I'm done. So, read this preview, and I hope you enjoy.

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Disclaimer – I own Lizzie, Rayne, Trip, Kay, and Felix. Xenolord owns Maria, Natalya, Serras, Gale, and Jess. Flame-tiger and I own Felix. All others do not belong to me.

As quietly as possible, she packed as many of the necessities as needed. Grabbing her spare clothing and shoving them into her bag, she then headed down the stairs. As she moved, she paused at a single door. The door that lead to Kay's bedroom, in fact.

She looked at the door. She placed her hand on it, and her other hand reached for the knob, but she hesitated. She pulled her hand away slowly, and her eyes shut. She kept her hand on that door, before crouching down, and slipping something underneath it. As she stood back up again, her eyes opened, and they flickered with something, something that was like a mixture of sorrow, regret, and longing. Longing for times past, and what used to be.

But they only held such emotion for a moment.

She continued onwards, and made her way to the lower floor. Once there, she filled her bag with water, and what food she could carry without fear of spoiling. With her bag almost full, she rushed out of the house.

The next thing she knew, she was at a room in the Guardian tower. Striding around the room, she began to take various things that were inside of it.

The room used to be theirs, but when they moved out, they had converted the room as a sort of armoury for them and the others on the floor. Their armour and weapons – sans the standard issue armour and blades that they kept at the house- were all there.

She swept up a few weapons and attached them safely to her belt. With those weapons, was her special Sacred Staff.

She reached automatically next to the spot where she usually kept her staff. Instead of grasping onto a hilt, all that was there was thin air.

She looked at the spot, and scanned her eyes around the room for whatever was kept their. Alas, it wasn't to be found, and her quick visual search was in vain.

It seemed that the Holy Blade, just like its owner, was gone.

She stopped for this fact for only a moment, before she got to work again. She needed to finish soon.

Swiping some health and mana potions, she tucked them neatly into the bag. It was swelling now from its contents, but she knew it would hold. It had gone through wars, through battles, through disasters with her, and it always held. Much like-

She shook her head. She couldn't think about her now.

She double checked her bag, also making sure that she had gold on her. Everything was secure, and everything was ready to go. She also made sure that the special armour she had donned was fastened securely, and wouldn't fall off at any time. Satisfied, she thought-

'Only one thing missing now.'

She pulled one last item off of a hook on the wall. Turning it inside out, she laid it upon her shoulders. With a satisfying click and a firm knot, it fastened around her neck.

She headed out of the dorms, and walked outside.

Dressed from head to toe in black, the moon shone its silvery light down on her. The pitch black armour she was wearing reflected the light back, with every step she took. And she walked, her lover's cloak upon her shoulders. Her steps never faltered.

Lizzie kept on walking until she was out of Battleon, never turning back for a last glance.

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So I hope this piqued your interest, and you'll read what else there is once I finish the story.