AN: Hello, welcome to my second story. This is an original story by
me set in a world of harsh governments, monsters, magic, villains, and
heroes. This story will follow the journey of Jonah Nightingale, a young
man banished from his home for reasons he doesn't understand and must do
what he can to survive. His journey will take him to all corners of the
world, and himself. Along the way, he falls in love with the one and only
Imperial princess, but standing in their way is an entire empire of hostile
forces, a cold, unforgiving world, and a shady weapon's designer who bears
more than a passing resemblance to Jonah. And guess, what, THERE'S MORE!
But you'll have to read to find out.
Yes, this story is mine, but the name Final Fantasy belongs to Square. Lucky them. So, I'm not making money off of this, so there.
Final Fantasy:
Timeframe
Imperial City, the hub of human civilization itself. Composed of huge multi-leveled buildings and towers that reached far above the clouds, and deep below the surface of the earth. Every building was made of the same black metal so closely tied to the Empire as the Emperor himself. Every smokestack atop every building belched a smoke as black as the buildings themselves, giving the sky an unearthly reddish glow. And, draped on the side of the largest towers were posters of the Emperor and the symbol of the Empire, a giant, golden eagle swooping down on an unsuspecting snake.
And, to top it all off, in the center of the city sat Imperial Palace, the largest building in the whole of the city, and, probably, the world. In all, the palace was an enormous pyramid, reaching over three hundred floors. Radio towers dotted its surface, giving the grandiose building the look of a huge porcupine; its thorns pointed up and out, ready to impale anything that would dare challenge it. But let's not say that Imperial Palace was without its quills. Hidden among every fifth floor, and seventh block, an Imperial artillery cannon, the largest, and most powerful weapons ever devised by man, stood at constant alert, ready to defend the Empire from any threat.
Millions upon millions of people toiled, worked, and lived in Imperial City. The citizens ranged from the richest of nobles, to the poorest of beggars, from the most successful business barons to the most pitiful peddlers.
Finally, not a tree, flower, or blade of grass grew in Imperial City. A thick sheet of concrete and metal, to make sure none of the city's enormous buildings would collapse, covered every inch of ground. This also gave the city the undeniable stench of metal, oil, and decay.
Imperial City, a masterful example of the Empire's unquestioned dominion over all.
The first thing Jonah Nightingale noticed as he walked through the fifty-foot high gates of Imperial City was not the immensity of the buildings, nor was it the awe-inspiring Imperial Palace itself. The first thing Jonah Nightingale noticed as he walked through the gates of Imperial City was the sheer number of people. In any given street, thousands of people crowded over every walkable inch of ground. Some even tried their luck crowded on the between-building walkways suspended at least sixty feet over the streets themselves. And all Jonah had to do was touch the ground to feel the thunder of thousands of echoed voices from the belowground walkways as well. So many people, so little room.
In fact, it wouldn't be hard to believe that the entire population of the empire was contained in this single city.
And to complete the mix of peddlers, nobles, shopkeepers, and beggars that filled the streets, squads of Imperial "Terror" Troopers were patrolling every given street. Most soldiers stayed to themselves while they patrolled, talking only to fellow officers when needed. But, as always, there were a few soldiers who weren't following orders. They were the soldiers who were causing most of the troubles and misfortunes on the streets.
For example, one squad of soldiers, as they passed by some more respectable pedestrians, casually grabbed any item they could reach off the victims, then promptly throwing the items into the bag, or nearby outstretched hand, of their intended targets. Those poor people would be branded as thieves, and would be arrested and carried to prison. All for their enjoyment.
On another street, two soldiers were walking along the pedestrians, taking whatever "appropriations" they deemed would be "of value to the empire". Of course, everyone knew the various baubles would go into the personal collections of whoever took the items.
Terror Troopers, indeed.
While Jonah was watching the "elite soldiers of the empire" plunder and pillage the unsuspecting populace, he heard what sounded like a small whimper coming from somewhere off to his left. He dismissed it as some stray dog that was walking the street begging for any scrap of food. Jonah merely went back to trying to find his way through the crowd that was the street.
But the whimper sounded again, this time followed by uproarious laughter.
Maybe some kids had found of the dog, and were having a bit of fun with it.
Whimper, laughter, and a sudden silence.
Maybe the dog got away with whatever the kids were teasing it with.
Whimper, laughter, the sound of boots stomping.
The sound of Imperial Soldier's boots.
Jonah turned to see a truly horrifying sight.
Two low-ranking Imperial soldiers were standing over a prone and very sickly looking beggar, dropping small drops of water from their canteens onto the beggar's face. Every time a drop hit the beggar's eyes or mouth, the beggar would let out a small moan of protest, giving the soldiers much delight.
And worse, whenever the beggar mustered up enough strength to try and stand, one soldier would plant his heavy boot onto the beggar's chest, and hold him down until the beggar stopped moving. They seemed to enjoy that part the most.
And, against everything he stood for, Jonah only stood there and watched the two soldiers torturing the old man.
But, before he knew what was happening, Jonah's left hand was reaching for the hilt of his trusty crossbow, which was slung over his back. While his right hand was heading for the cache of arrows slung in a pouch tied to his belt. The only thoughts going through his head were ones of seeing the soldiers, lying on the ground, their mouths wide open, full of arrows fired from his crossbow. And him standing there, triumphantly.
Jonah pushed those thoughts out of his head as fast as possible, and jerked his hands away from his weapons. What had come over him to make him think of such things? Of course, for what they were doing, the soldiers deserved to be punished. But not by him. Besides, if Jonah even attempted to shoot an Imperial soldier, he would instantly be recognized, arrested, and sentenced to death. No ifs, ands, or buts.
So what could he do?
Jonah quickly remembered the scheme the Imperial troops had used to catch the "thieves" that roamed the street. Rob an unsuspecting passerby, plant the evidence on the victim, and point them out loudly. Well, Jonah didn't need to rob from the soldiers (that being an almost serious a crime as killing an Imperial soldier). Nor did he need to plant any evidence anywhere. So Jonah skipped to the next step, loudly pointing out the perpetrators.
"Hey, everyone!" Jonah shouted to everyone within earshot, hopefully one of those people was an Imperial commander, "Look at what your glorious soldiers are doing!" Jonah slowly and emphatically gestured to the oblivious soldiers, "Instead of protecting you from harm," Jonah had to fight a sudden urge to laugh out loud, "They're getting their jollies by torturing an old man!" Jonah made sure everybody heard that last statement.
Immediately, five Imperial soldiers, each of a higher rank than the two torturers, marched onto the scene.
"Is there a problem here?" One asked.
"Yes, sir," Jonah said, pointing to the still oblivious soldiers, "Somehow I don't think torturing old beggars is in the Imperial Soldier's handbook."
None of the other soldiers responded, they just turned toward the two lower ranking soldiers. The next few moments were filled with the complete silence of the crowd, and the harsh disciplinary words of the Imperial officers. After a few more moments of tense silence, the seven Imperial soldiers marched out of the street, straight toward Imperial Headquarters.
When the mob of people began to disperse, Jonah began to go with them, walking a few steps before tripping on something. He hit the ground before he could even cry out. After regaining his senses, Jonah looked behind him to see what he tripped on. The old beggar was still lying prone on the street, just barely moving. And Jonah's tripping over him really didn't help the man. Jonah scrambled up as fast as possible, and scooped up the old man into his arms. He wasn't in need of any medicine, but a good rest couldn't hurt. Unfortunately, Jonah was currently in the shopping district of the city. The street where most of the inns were was ten streets down. A full thirty-minute walk. Normally, Jonah would have just taken the old man to the nearest good Samaritan and walk away, but that same feeling he felt when he nearly killed the soldiers came over him again, making Jonah suddenly begin walking toward the inn district. The next thirty minutes were like a thirty-minute walk through hell itself. Not only did the beggar weigh a lot more than he should have, but he also stank of sweat, alcohol, and something else he didn't want to begin to imagine.
But for some reason, Jonah continued walking.
Finally, Jonah made it to a respectable inn. After renting a moderately priced room, Jonah walked up the two flights of stairs to the room, and gently placed the beggar onto the bed. Fortunately, he had been asleep, or unconscious throughout the entire walk. Jonah made sure the beggar was comfortable before he took out a piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand and scribbled a note:
Dear, sir:
I have rented this room for you for the next two days. Make yourself at home, but be sure to rest. Don't worry, the two who were bothering you have been taken care of by me.
Sincerely,
J.N.
Jonah made sure not to sign his name, though he still didn't know why. He still didn't know why he had helped the old man in the first place. But Jonah just dismissed it as some strange burst of goodwill, which should pass soon. Otherwise he'd run out of money.
Jonah made his way out of the inn as fast as possible and get on his way. Jonah casually strode down the street for the next few minutes, mulling over the events that just took place. Why would someone like him ever think about helping a poor old beggar?
But Jonah didn't have time to think more of his decision before he felt the sharp, cold feeling of a knife being pressed to the back of his neck.
This was only chapter ONE; so, tell me what you think so far. Is it going too fast? Just right? I need to know. And trust me, the next chapter is a real doozy.
Yes, this story is mine, but the name Final Fantasy belongs to Square. Lucky them. So, I'm not making money off of this, so there.
Final Fantasy:
Timeframe
Imperial City, the hub of human civilization itself. Composed of huge multi-leveled buildings and towers that reached far above the clouds, and deep below the surface of the earth. Every building was made of the same black metal so closely tied to the Empire as the Emperor himself. Every smokestack atop every building belched a smoke as black as the buildings themselves, giving the sky an unearthly reddish glow. And, draped on the side of the largest towers were posters of the Emperor and the symbol of the Empire, a giant, golden eagle swooping down on an unsuspecting snake.
And, to top it all off, in the center of the city sat Imperial Palace, the largest building in the whole of the city, and, probably, the world. In all, the palace was an enormous pyramid, reaching over three hundred floors. Radio towers dotted its surface, giving the grandiose building the look of a huge porcupine; its thorns pointed up and out, ready to impale anything that would dare challenge it. But let's not say that Imperial Palace was without its quills. Hidden among every fifth floor, and seventh block, an Imperial artillery cannon, the largest, and most powerful weapons ever devised by man, stood at constant alert, ready to defend the Empire from any threat.
Millions upon millions of people toiled, worked, and lived in Imperial City. The citizens ranged from the richest of nobles, to the poorest of beggars, from the most successful business barons to the most pitiful peddlers.
Finally, not a tree, flower, or blade of grass grew in Imperial City. A thick sheet of concrete and metal, to make sure none of the city's enormous buildings would collapse, covered every inch of ground. This also gave the city the undeniable stench of metal, oil, and decay.
Imperial City, a masterful example of the Empire's unquestioned dominion over all.
The first thing Jonah Nightingale noticed as he walked through the fifty-foot high gates of Imperial City was not the immensity of the buildings, nor was it the awe-inspiring Imperial Palace itself. The first thing Jonah Nightingale noticed as he walked through the gates of Imperial City was the sheer number of people. In any given street, thousands of people crowded over every walkable inch of ground. Some even tried their luck crowded on the between-building walkways suspended at least sixty feet over the streets themselves. And all Jonah had to do was touch the ground to feel the thunder of thousands of echoed voices from the belowground walkways as well. So many people, so little room.
In fact, it wouldn't be hard to believe that the entire population of the empire was contained in this single city.
And to complete the mix of peddlers, nobles, shopkeepers, and beggars that filled the streets, squads of Imperial "Terror" Troopers were patrolling every given street. Most soldiers stayed to themselves while they patrolled, talking only to fellow officers when needed. But, as always, there were a few soldiers who weren't following orders. They were the soldiers who were causing most of the troubles and misfortunes on the streets.
For example, one squad of soldiers, as they passed by some more respectable pedestrians, casually grabbed any item they could reach off the victims, then promptly throwing the items into the bag, or nearby outstretched hand, of their intended targets. Those poor people would be branded as thieves, and would be arrested and carried to prison. All for their enjoyment.
On another street, two soldiers were walking along the pedestrians, taking whatever "appropriations" they deemed would be "of value to the empire". Of course, everyone knew the various baubles would go into the personal collections of whoever took the items.
Terror Troopers, indeed.
While Jonah was watching the "elite soldiers of the empire" plunder and pillage the unsuspecting populace, he heard what sounded like a small whimper coming from somewhere off to his left. He dismissed it as some stray dog that was walking the street begging for any scrap of food. Jonah merely went back to trying to find his way through the crowd that was the street.
But the whimper sounded again, this time followed by uproarious laughter.
Maybe some kids had found of the dog, and were having a bit of fun with it.
Whimper, laughter, and a sudden silence.
Maybe the dog got away with whatever the kids were teasing it with.
Whimper, laughter, the sound of boots stomping.
The sound of Imperial Soldier's boots.
Jonah turned to see a truly horrifying sight.
Two low-ranking Imperial soldiers were standing over a prone and very sickly looking beggar, dropping small drops of water from their canteens onto the beggar's face. Every time a drop hit the beggar's eyes or mouth, the beggar would let out a small moan of protest, giving the soldiers much delight.
And worse, whenever the beggar mustered up enough strength to try and stand, one soldier would plant his heavy boot onto the beggar's chest, and hold him down until the beggar stopped moving. They seemed to enjoy that part the most.
And, against everything he stood for, Jonah only stood there and watched the two soldiers torturing the old man.
But, before he knew what was happening, Jonah's left hand was reaching for the hilt of his trusty crossbow, which was slung over his back. While his right hand was heading for the cache of arrows slung in a pouch tied to his belt. The only thoughts going through his head were ones of seeing the soldiers, lying on the ground, their mouths wide open, full of arrows fired from his crossbow. And him standing there, triumphantly.
Jonah pushed those thoughts out of his head as fast as possible, and jerked his hands away from his weapons. What had come over him to make him think of such things? Of course, for what they were doing, the soldiers deserved to be punished. But not by him. Besides, if Jonah even attempted to shoot an Imperial soldier, he would instantly be recognized, arrested, and sentenced to death. No ifs, ands, or buts.
So what could he do?
Jonah quickly remembered the scheme the Imperial troops had used to catch the "thieves" that roamed the street. Rob an unsuspecting passerby, plant the evidence on the victim, and point them out loudly. Well, Jonah didn't need to rob from the soldiers (that being an almost serious a crime as killing an Imperial soldier). Nor did he need to plant any evidence anywhere. So Jonah skipped to the next step, loudly pointing out the perpetrators.
"Hey, everyone!" Jonah shouted to everyone within earshot, hopefully one of those people was an Imperial commander, "Look at what your glorious soldiers are doing!" Jonah slowly and emphatically gestured to the oblivious soldiers, "Instead of protecting you from harm," Jonah had to fight a sudden urge to laugh out loud, "They're getting their jollies by torturing an old man!" Jonah made sure everybody heard that last statement.
Immediately, five Imperial soldiers, each of a higher rank than the two torturers, marched onto the scene.
"Is there a problem here?" One asked.
"Yes, sir," Jonah said, pointing to the still oblivious soldiers, "Somehow I don't think torturing old beggars is in the Imperial Soldier's handbook."
None of the other soldiers responded, they just turned toward the two lower ranking soldiers. The next few moments were filled with the complete silence of the crowd, and the harsh disciplinary words of the Imperial officers. After a few more moments of tense silence, the seven Imperial soldiers marched out of the street, straight toward Imperial Headquarters.
When the mob of people began to disperse, Jonah began to go with them, walking a few steps before tripping on something. He hit the ground before he could even cry out. After regaining his senses, Jonah looked behind him to see what he tripped on. The old beggar was still lying prone on the street, just barely moving. And Jonah's tripping over him really didn't help the man. Jonah scrambled up as fast as possible, and scooped up the old man into his arms. He wasn't in need of any medicine, but a good rest couldn't hurt. Unfortunately, Jonah was currently in the shopping district of the city. The street where most of the inns were was ten streets down. A full thirty-minute walk. Normally, Jonah would have just taken the old man to the nearest good Samaritan and walk away, but that same feeling he felt when he nearly killed the soldiers came over him again, making Jonah suddenly begin walking toward the inn district. The next thirty minutes were like a thirty-minute walk through hell itself. Not only did the beggar weigh a lot more than he should have, but he also stank of sweat, alcohol, and something else he didn't want to begin to imagine.
But for some reason, Jonah continued walking.
Finally, Jonah made it to a respectable inn. After renting a moderately priced room, Jonah walked up the two flights of stairs to the room, and gently placed the beggar onto the bed. Fortunately, he had been asleep, or unconscious throughout the entire walk. Jonah made sure the beggar was comfortable before he took out a piece of paper and a pen from the nightstand and scribbled a note:
Dear, sir:
I have rented this room for you for the next two days. Make yourself at home, but be sure to rest. Don't worry, the two who were bothering you have been taken care of by me.
Sincerely,
J.N.
Jonah made sure not to sign his name, though he still didn't know why. He still didn't know why he had helped the old man in the first place. But Jonah just dismissed it as some strange burst of goodwill, which should pass soon. Otherwise he'd run out of money.
Jonah made his way out of the inn as fast as possible and get on his way. Jonah casually strode down the street for the next few minutes, mulling over the events that just took place. Why would someone like him ever think about helping a poor old beggar?
But Jonah didn't have time to think more of his decision before he felt the sharp, cold feeling of a knife being pressed to the back of his neck.
This was only chapter ONE; so, tell me what you think so far. Is it going too fast? Just right? I need to know. And trust me, the next chapter is a real doozy.