A.N. – I do not own Final Fantasy XI. The characters within this story are either friends of mine online within the game or fictional.
Prologue: Past influences
Light shines in through the window as the sun moves below the horizon, casting half of the room into shadow. Two men sit at a table on the far side of the room. "Do you really think this is going to work," Says an old and wheezy voice from the man on the left. The man on the right shifts, "I don't know old friend, I just don't know; however it is the best we can do and we shall just have to pray that the Goddess has mercy on us and our descendents.
The two men continue to sit in an uncomfortable silence. The sun sank below the horizon; fore another word was spoken. "Well," said the man whom had spoken first, "There is nothing left but to commence the ritual. He will be here soon and we must be ready for him." "Agreed," said the other. The two men stand up from the table and head for the door. "It was a pleasure serving with you sire, never let it be said that you did not give it your utmost effort." The old and wheezy voice speaks once more, "Now if only it had been enough comrade, if only it had been enough." With that the two walked out to face what the Lady Fate would bring.
Storm clouds, dark and ominous move out over the night sky. The very land itself seems to quake in an ominous rumble. It is said that the land can foretell when a great disaster is about to occur and to many it seemed of if the land was crying out in pain and in warning. Fires burned brightly along the top of the fortress walls. It gleamed on the armored mail of the rows of archers standing upon the parapets. The men upon the wall murmured quietly amongst themselves. Never had the entire might of the Fortress City of Calaban been brought forth in defense, in offence yes, but never in defense.
Lord Captain and Commander Gabriel looked out upon his troops. The wind was beginning to whip the banners around him and he could tell that a fierce storm was coming, how appropriate he thought. He looked at his second in command and gave a slight nod of his head. The man rushed off to obey his lord's unspoken command. As he watched his most loyal officer and close friend for nigh on thirty years, go to what would more then likely be his doom, he offered up a prayer to his deity. "Great Goddess Altana, you have watched over us and our home for the many years that we have existed. If it be your will that our noble kingdom meet its end today, then so be it. I will die with honor in my heart, serving you. I ask merely that you spare the innocent of the punishment of our wrong doings. We became arrogant and for that you have abandoned us. All I ask is your forgiveness milady, may ye have mercy on our eternal souls."
Casting a keen eye over the horizon, Michal, scout of the fourth regiment gasped in hour. Where moments ago had been the starry sky dotting the length of the hills in the distance was now an unending row of black clothed, marching figures. "May Altana preserve us." he breathed, "We can not to prevail against such a foe." Despite his dread at the great host that marched upon his home, Michal knew that he had a job to complete. Quickly he ran over to the chocobo tied up at the tree, he had to warn his home, and pray that he made it in time.
Deep within the fortress at the heart of Calaban, five figures stood stupid at the corners of a pentagram carved into the floor. Arcane symbols and runes filled the floor, along with esoteric components of origin known only to the men standing there. The men began to chant, "Exsisto Reus oh cado unus Exsisto Reus oh malum unus Intus terra exsisto retineo ed Intus core exsisto reus Exsisto Reus oh Pessum ire Exsisto Reus oh Nequam unus." The castle shook from the force of the battle above. Dust drifted done from the ceiling. It would not be long now before the walls were overwhelmed. The warriors above were giving all they had so that men below could finish the ritual. To abstain themselves from the sin they had caused in the arrogance. As the men continued to chant, oblivious to the destruction of the fortress above a strange rift began to open and a mist, that was so black as to absorb the very light of the room began passing through the walls and into the rift. Slowly the mist began moving faster and faster into the rift and soon a wailing could be heard. The men, haggard and dripping with sweat from the effort put forth in pulling in and containing the driving force of what was destroying there home, continue chanting. They knew that if the rest of a world was to have a chance they must not fail.
A wind blows forth from the east, rustling the remnant of cloth that was once a banner. From the south comes a line of troops ready for battle. only it is too late. Where once there was a teeming nation, strong and vibrant; there is now nothing. It as if the very earth has been erased of its existence.