The Zodiac War

Chapter 1 - One Final Breath

Explosions rocked the interior chamber of a natural cave, as the air buzzed with the excess energy from hundreds of spells that had been cast within a short period of time. Strewn about the cavern were pieces of a monster that was made of neither flesh or stone. Fires lit the semi-luminescent walls of the cavern as a precursor to another set of explosions, while an unearthly screech of sorts sliced through the noises and echoed along the darkened passages of the underground complex. This noise came from a colossal monster that suddenly flopped to the ground twitching like a bug that had been squashed, and it seemed to signal the end of a titanic battle.

With the fire light flickering everywhere, the shadow of a human — who wore blackened, metallic greaves and crimson, leather armor while sporting a black cape that had a silver design on it back that seemed to represent a set of scales — seemed to stand up and look down at its defeated opponent.

The living construct shuddered and released another grinding screech as the human standing over it shoved his wicked black blade — which was covered in silver etched runes that ran down its back end — into its ocular cavity. With a quick upward jerk, the sword split open the casing that would probably be considered the creatures head.

Huffing in disgust, the man reached into the slimly blue ichor that was the creatures blood and pulled out a strange looking stone that shone bright green in the dim fire light. The gem pulsed brightly as energy seemed to seep out of it and into the man. "Finally," croaked the man with his deep gravelly voice, "and with this last piece I can finally complete my goal!"

Directing his gaze down at his opponent the man smiled as he said, "It has been too long since I have had such an invigorating battle. You were strong. I must not forget your name...what was it that the locals called you?"

"Ah yes..." smiled the man in happiness, "...now I remember..."

The turned on his heel, the man's body was slowly wrapped in a emerald green energy while the air around him distorted and began to ripple. As the air distorted, so did the mysterious man's body, and with each second that passed the man slowly began to vanish as the distortions themselves began to slowly dissipate. All that was left was the echo of the man's voice as it rung through the empty cavern.

"...Omega Mark XII!"

Silver hair stuck unceremoniously up in the air as its bearer blew out a stream of breath in an attempt to remove the offending hair out of its owners eyes. Sweat poured down a wrinkled brow and face, as the sounds of exertion and fatigue were heard echoing through the giant underground cavern. A lone old man slowly made his way down a old collapsed wall of an ancient buried temple with only the help of his aged, but wiry muscles, and hands.

The old man wore a dirty, and torn, white shirt under a beautiful leather vest, which seemed to be made from a blue dragon's hide. A beautiful red silk sash, with golden designs, was wrapped around the old timers waist. Black leather pants, with several pockets and buckles, hugged the his legs. A pair of black boots, with shiny silver trinkets hanging off of them, completed the look that the man wore. What was even more surprising was that on each hand there were three unique rings that seemed to have seen much action, as they all held the dents and nicks of constant use.

"Damn the gods, and their whores as well!" cursed the man as he lost his grip and slid several feet before finding purchase on the rock wall once again. His heart was beating fast and a familiar pain seemed to race down his left arm, but still the man trudged with nothing more than a grunt. Taking his time to climb down the wall, the man finally lowered himself to floor and looked around.

Patting all the dust off his body and getting out all the kinks of his aging joints, the man turned his head towards a small pile of rubble that blocked a pair of solid iron doors. Shaking his head the man quickly cast a illumination spell and began fumbling around his back pack.

Looking at the old geezer many would misjudge him as 'harmless' and 'senile', but those who had befriended or crossed him knew differently...

The man smiled, he finally found what he was looking for in the bag. Pulling out a small black sphere he mumbled something before hurling it at the door and rubble. The explosion that rocked the ruins caused giant chunks of earth from the ceiling to rain down all around the man. You would think that any normal person would have been scared for their life at this moment. Yet, the elderly adventurer had yet to even so much as blink. Instead, the old geezer adopted a smile on his face, and began walking into the now 'cleared' tunnel.

...the man was well known and revered on several continents, and infamous on several more. His life was lived to the fullest and his dreams had all been accomplished. He was wealthier than most kings. His power, strength and skill was almost unrivaled, as was his influence...

"How many times do I have to tell them not to touch my bag," complained the fogy to himself, as he shifted through his back pack before removing an ancient document. Sighing deeply, the man winced as he felt another pain rip through his chest.

...and yet, with all his accomplishments, the man suffered a fate that many adventures would never wish upon themselves. Living far beyond the expect life span that many a friend had expected him to live, the man had watched, with a heart filled with indescribable pain, as many of his loved ones slowly succumbed to the ravages of time. Now, he was the last of them, and he lived day to day waiting for the inevitable to catch up to him...

Drawing forth a beautiful blade that seemed to shimmer slightly in the magical illumination that he had conjured forth, the old man dispatched an ugly two-headed snake that had tried to sneak up on him while he was reading the old document in his other hand. He might be up there in age, but his body was still geared for combat. His reflexes hadn't dulled one bit, combined that with the experience of literally hundreds of thousands of battles and it equaled a warrior of unsurpassable power and grace.

...to most people of the main continent he was a myth and a legend. Others, who knew better, knew him as the unequivocal leader, and king, of the sky pirate nation of Penasbathan. He had many names, but above all of them, only one name seemed to stick with him though out his long life.

Never mind that the nickname was something that a sarcastic asshole of a friend had come up with just to tease him and his looks. Despite his wishes for the name to disappear, it just wouldn't go away, and that was how the legend of Aster Thraist was born.

Though many would come to either fear or be awed by the man that bore the name, none would understand the private joke that the man and his friends all shared. You see, "aster" came from an ancient, and very much dead Murond language, word for "boy". In the same token"thr-aist" was borrowed from a bastardized Zelinninen dialect, and could be translated as "full of sun, or sunny". In private, the one who christened him with the name often laughed as he would translate the man's nickname time and time again...

..."sunny boy"...

Finally reaching his destination, the old man stood before two solid blocks of stone that had been polished to a fine sheen and were in perfect shape. There were no handles on the door, nor were their any devices to open them, like buttons or levers. Instead, there were three impressions on each door, and each one looked like a small item could fit into it. The man sighed as he slowly took off each ring and placed them into the impressions. With each ring a loud click could be heard from the other side, and when the final ring was place a low rumbling was heard as the slabs of stone slowly started to part.

Beyond the door there were three beautifully crafted tombs of alabaster as well as a large 'living' tree. The trees boughs seemed cover the three coffins as it watched over them protectively. Smiling at the scene, the old man rolled up the document in his hand as his vision slowly began to blur. Walking slowly to the tree he leaned against it and smiled as his breathing became ragged and labored.

"Everyone," croaked the man in a weary voice that spoke of exhaustion of the soul, "I kept my promise...we shall all be buried in the same place...friends to the end. I am ready, what ever awaits me on the other side…be it the Wood or the gods themselves…I am ready… " It was with those last words that the legendary sky pirate, Aster Thraist, closed his eyes and imagined his friends calling his name from the afterlife.

"Vaan..." the man heard a voice that held the tones of both man and woman calling him as he smile brightly and breathed one final breath. However, as the old man's last breath began to slowly leave his body the boughs of the tree that held him up slowly bent and wrapped him in what could be considered a warm embrace as a sapphire blue energy slowly began to wrap itself over him, and with in seconds the dying pirate king had completely vanished.

"…there is still much work to do…child of light…" the disembodies voice said after the man had long vanished from the tomb.