A Romance with Isprit: A Shaiya Fanfiction.
This is my first fanfiction. When playing this game a while back, I came across something that caught my interest. After searching the Shaiya forums, I didn't find anyone else who seemed to give it a second thought. So I've decided to share this small part of my imagination with the world. Please note that the names used for most of the characters are original. If I happen to actually use someone's player character name or a guild name, it was not intended.
Chapter 1: The Fateful Push
A young man walked along the path, his mind on the destination ahead. He was headed towards Cloron's Lair feeling strength from his ego. He had been given an informative tip back in Keolloseu City by Drogma, the powerful leader of the Blackhearts guild. Drogma had heard the young man talking to some of his friends about how proud he was of his success with a recent mission into Cornwell's Ruin. The Blackhearts weren't exactly a guild known for compassion and friendliness towards outsiders but rather for being mischievous deviants. Drogma was no exception, and he thought he'd knock the young man's ego down a few notches.
"Hey there," Drogma called over to the adolescent whose friends left to give them some space as he rode up on his white tiger. He sported two very sharp ornate claw-knuckles which hung from his hips. He was dressed in the magnificent Raffinert Armor from head to toe. Black hair poked from under his helmet and partially covered his eyes of red irises. He was perhaps the most accomplished ranger the young man had ever seen. Sitting on the white tiger behind him was a woman with long brilliant blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. She was dressed in a golden Sephiroth Armor rope and had staff with a read aura coming from its head fastened to her back. She was quite attractive, and obviously a very powerful mage. In the adolescent's eyes, this was definitely a pair worth admiration. Admittedly he was jealous. He had never had a girlfriend and certainly was not as skilled or recognized. He had almost started to gawk when Drogma spoke up again.
"What's your name boy?" Drogma asked. He'd called him "boy", but in truth the adolescent was eighteen years old, just barely adult.
"Logan," he replied looking down giving no worth to his own name. He could only imagine how he looked in his cut-up, beaten-to-hell, fog grey armor, especially to somebody like Drogma who damn near seemed to have it all.
"Well Logan, perhaps you could tell me something. Did I hear you correctly when you said that you managed to fell Asmo of Cornwell's Ruin? That's no small feat for someone your age."
Logan looked up with a small smile on his face. "Yes you did. But to be more accurate, I was aided by a team of six others." Logan answered. In recent years Logan had learned to keep himself from stretching the truth as quite often his lies managed to catch up with him. No longer being able to catch him on this, Drogma was a bit disappointed.
"Oh I see. Well at least I know there are several young warriors aware of the importance of subduing Asmo's body each time it should rise. Might I know what role you performed in your mission?"
Logan's smile widened a bit. "Well as you can see," he said while lifting the metal shield from his back, "…I am a defender. I served as tank for both clearing a path to Asmo's room and while fighting Asmo himself." Logan faced the shield towards the couple resting it on the ground and against his legs. It was full of deep gouge marks and impact dents. "It was quite a tough job considering we didn't have a priest with us. That would also explain the bruises and why I can't use my left arm to lift the shield anymore. Priests seem to be a rarity in dungeon expeditions these days," Logan said in a sort of joking tone. Almost as if on cue, a stranger priest approached him from out of nowhere.
"Excuse me sir, but it looks like you have suffered some damage recently. I will mend your wounds." Before Logan could respond she had already muttered a quick chant and made a wave of her staff. In the next second he was surrounded by a golden glow, which after a few moments, had disappeared along with its caster as she was already walking away. Standing before the couple seemed to be a different man. His once weary dull orbs were now their former lustrous emerald green. His pale bruised skin was now strong and full of color. And his once tangled mane of dark blonde hair was held neatly back into a large ponytail (almost the size of a real one); the way Logan always wore his hair during combat. The mage behind Drogma leaned forward over his shoulder with interest. Though Logan was not yet a very battle-hardened defender, he was physically attractive nonetheless. Drogma felt this and decided to hurry up with his scheme.
"Well I must say, it's quite impressive for a person of your skill to survive being a group's sole defender in Cornwell's Ruin without the aid of a priest. Buuuuuut…" he said stretching it out to invoke Logan's curiosity, "…if you truly wish to properly gage your abilities in the world of Shaiya, you should head into Cloron's Lair." At this the woman began staring wide-eyed at Drogma, though Logan didn't notice. "It's only in a place like that…" Drogma unclipped a claw-knuckle from his belt, "…that you can prove the strength…" he forcefully shoved the weapon on his fist, "…of your resilience." No sooner than when Drogma had finished talking did his equipped claw-knuckle begin to glow with a brilliant blue aura.
Logan began staring into the aura, his eyes getting a distant look to them. He may have legally been a man, but he was still naïve and was already picturing future triumphs.
"You can find a path that will take you straight there if you exit the city through the southern gate," Drogma concluded. "Just take the left path when you reach the fork."
Logan needed to hear no more. He yanked his shield onto his back and was already running out of the city. "Thanks for the tip," he called back waving before he took off again.
The woman seated behind Drogma tried to call something out to Logan, but Drogma covered her mouth while he snickered to himself.
"Are you insane?" she hissed at him. "That place will kill him without doubt! You and I both know that only warriors who have returned to Erina after training in farther lands are anywhere near strong enough to survive in there!"
"Lighten up. If he's got any sense at all, he'll be able to tell that he's outmatched. I'm just playing one of my many jokes."
"Well it's not funny," she said hopping down off the white tiger.
"But this kind of mischief is like a pastime for us Blackhearts," Drogma said getting a bit annoyed. As guild master, it wasn't often that his subordinates disagreed with him.
"No, it is for you Blackhearts. I've grown quite tired of that attitude." She began to trudge away.
"Aw come on baby, don't be that way."
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