Final Fantasy ~X~
Okay, I would just like to say that these characters (aside from the ones I mention from FF7) are my own. You can use them, just ask me first, okay? And I do not own any of the places…except for the ones I make up.
Prologue
Storm clouds billowed overhead as lightning streaked the sky, backlighting a large mansion on the crest of a tall hill. Far away on the horizon, yet steadily getting nearer, were the fires of war.
A tall man stood at an open window, watching the fighting with a grim expression on his bearded face. A woman, his beloved wife, moved over to him, and placed a slender hand on his broad shoulder, the hand pale to match her face. "The barbarians are coming, aren't they, Magrin."
Without saying a word, the man known as Magrin Tagran nodded. He gently shook her hand off of him, and turned to stare into her haunted expression, her worried eyes. "Strato is safe, at least…he is at the academy. The hordes won't attack there, not with all of those skilled warriors and the warriors-in-training there. And I want you to take our children and go there as well, Lany," he whispered at last, using the nickname which he had referred to her when they had been young lovers. Then had been a time where there were no wars, no panic…just the idealistic happiness and carefree attitude of youth. "I will stay here and give you time."
His wife brought her hand to her mouth in shock, but he silenced her protest before she even had a chance to voice it, just with a simple look. In that look was a plea, to escape, to survive. With the air of one who is prepared to face an honorable death, Magrin strode to a magnificent mahogany cabinet. He stripped off his brown jacket and flung the doors open. Inside was a bronze suit of armor—and a long, thin, sword, which gleamed in the light cast by the thunderbolts flashing outside. Quickly, Magrin donned the chestplate and gauntlets, preferring not to wear the heavy leg armor, which would slow him down significantly.
His wife, who by now had their baby girl in her arms, and a sleepy five-year-old boy at her side, looked at Magrin, her loving husband, their doting father, as if they were trying for one final time to dissuade his suicidal plan. But he would have none of it. Plucking the weapon from its resting-place, Magrin swept it through the air in a series of complicated cuts and maneuvers. "Now, go!" he started to say, but he never got the chance…
With an ear-splitting clatter, the bedchamber door was kicked open. There, grinning malevolently and long silver hair blowing in the wind of the tempest outside, was one of the barbarians, easily identified as so by the crest on his armor chestplate. But this was not one of the ordinary foot soldiers of the armies that had invaded the country. The crimson slashes on his shoulder pads showed him to be a full general. And the gigantic sword that he held in front of him was dripping with blood—human blood.
"RUN!" bellowed Magrin, rushing towards the savage killer. He sliced his own weapon, aiming at his opponent's throat, but cut into air as the general jumped up to the ceiling, grabbing one of the crossbars that supported the roof, and using it to swing and land right in front of the other three members of Magrin's family. Lany shrieked, and both of the children began to wail loudly as the barbarian drew back his sword.
Magrin's vision clouded as tears welled up in his eyes, knowing what was to come. "NO!!!" he screamed, but it was no use. The blade whistled as it came around. The man could not bear to watch his family be killed. When again, he opened his eyes, there was a murderous rage filling him, one that he had never felt before. "YOU BASTARD!! YOU MURDERED THEM!!"
"As I will do to you as well…prepare to join your family." The barbarian's voice was sophisticated and clipped, throwing Magrin off guard. He had not suspected to hear what he normally identified with class in this…this…killer.
Hefting his weapon in his large hands, Magrin rushed at the barbarian, and plunged the sword into his arm, where he was not protected by armor plates. Pain flashed momentarily in the barbarian general's eyes, but it was replaced by hate. He whispered something unintelligible under his breath and a bright azure light burst from the wound. When the light had vanished, so had the deep gash. "Magic…" Magrin mumbled, astonished amidst his fury. And then the general raised his hand, sending bolts of power into his bloodied blade, which shone with an unholy light.
"Blade Beam!" Were the only words that Magrin caught as his vicious opponent leveled his sword, and a large beam ripped from the weapon, slamming into his chest and hurling him to crash against the very cabinet where he had stored his sword.
As the armor still mounted in the wooden chest tumbled down upon him, Magrin saw the general walk over to him, and knew then that the fight had been lost. Still defiant, the bearded man raised his blood-streaked face and glared at the barbarian. "Who are you?" he coughed up red liquid.
The general paused and smirked, his hair whipping across his face. "You may know me as Kyaro, general of our mighty forces…"
And once more, the sword cut through the air.