Disclaimer: I don't own Nintendo franchises, or any franchises really. If I did, I wouldn't be watering lawns for money. Got…water? This disclaimer applies to all following chapters and any other franchises that appear herein. However, I do own all original characters and plot, you'll be able to figure out which is which, I'm sure. :)
SUMMARY: The universe is an infinite place, full of countless worlds and possibilities. When a creature of darkness with a pale shape seeks to crawl out of its hole like a spider and seize it all, it sets into motion events that may be its undoing. Heroes both likely and un-likely from across the cosmos will be thrown into a journey unlike any they have ever taken, leading down roads they never anticipated, one of webs and questions, one that leads…Far Within…
INCLUDES (but is not limited to):
Dragons
Aliens
Dramatic Escapes
True Love
Family Values
High Adventure
Inner Personal Self Discovery
Psychedelic Sci-Fi
Cybernetic Armor
Swords
A Big Fat Cast
A Wise Dude
and More Twists than Shirley Temple's Hair!
Woo! Sounds exciting, huh?! Huh?! YES? (I'll just assume the best.) Let's get started!
This fic is rated PG-13 for Violence; may not be suitable for children under the age of 13.
"Lives alter, shadows die…who can perceive the Plan?" Silas
"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction." Newton's Third Law
Prologue: Newton's Law
It watched as the dark mist curled around in the empty space, if it was indeed mist. It often thought that maybe it could be smoke, or clouds, or dust…but it was something more. It was sure. There was nothing solid to cling to here in the vast Emptiness. But that was fine. It had no need for surface and stability. Stars and motes glimmered, hung in space. Where from, none could tell. Maybe they weren't even stars, maybe they were hopes or dreams or ideas. They wouldn't last long, not there. Not when It resided there.
It had no real form, but oft' times it would take the form of a hand, a manipulative body. It considered itself a bit poetic in taking on this form. It was right. It was a hand of Fate, or it considered itself one. It delighted in pain, in the screams of small children woken from heinous nightmares, nightmares that It had been a part of, carefully cultivated.
For now, It was still. Thinking. The motes moved furiously, agitated, as if trying to escape from their world of deep gloom. It was planning.
The hand-like form fell apart and it became a strange shroud of vagueness once more. It struck out a tenuous tendril into the smokey shadows of Nothing and they swirled and cleared, leaving an image. It was a window, a view of a time. A place. It showed an ancient battlefield, one from a war it had gladly taken part in. The Earth here was scarred and stained, the lush grass all but torn away but for a few scorched patches…except for one green patch, and it was growing. It hated the stalwart little huddle of green...but It couldn't destroy it because it kept coming back. The grass continued growing, expanding, healing the field. How It hated the grass...It had eradicated that grass during the Imprisoning War and it dared to come back. Yet It couldn't touch it…the thing shrieked a high pitched scream and whipped strong and angry tentacles at the window. The View became obscure and faded, almost placidly, back into shifting fog. Hissing belligerently, It coalesced into a white, abstract hand once more. It wanted a surface. It needed to plan.
With a wave of Its finger a platform appeared and It settled on it, hanging in the Nothingness. The platform itself looked like a round, slate monolith with deep grooves, slowly spinning. It needed to think.
There was something it desired. The motes gleamed brighter, as if they were laughing at him, shining through whirling shadows.
Screaming, It collapsed in form, raked infinitely long claws across the Emptiness. Destruction! And anger. It came back to itself and huddled in the center of the newly gouged platform. It would get what It wanted.
Slowly, the idea came and It formulated a plan. It messed with the lives of people, destroyed them, strangling the hope from their hearts...but there was more.
The plan formulated and grew. The dark mists swirled and altered, darkening in color, as if irritated, scathed. Trying to hide. It thought, I will start with dreams. All good plans started with dreams. Though those that did often failed.
It would not.
It put Its plan into action.
Right after it had a little bit of fun.
...To be continued...
Next... Ch. 1: There's Enough Scum to Go Around
SUMMARY: The universe is an infinite place, full of countless worlds and possibilities. When a creature of darkness with a pale shape seeks to crawl out of its hole like a spider and seize it all, it sets into motion events that may be its undoing. Heroes both likely and un-likely from across the cosmos will be thrown into a journey unlike any they have ever taken, leading down roads they never anticipated, one of webs and questions, one that leads…Far Within…
INCLUDES (but is not limited to):
Dragons
Aliens
Dramatic Escapes
True Love
Family Values
High Adventure
Inner Personal Self Discovery
Psychedelic Sci-Fi
Cybernetic Armor
Swords
A Big Fat Cast
A Wise Dude
and More Twists than Shirley Temple's Hair!
Woo! Sounds exciting, huh?! Huh?! YES? (I'll just assume the best.) Let's get started!
This fic is rated PG-13 for Violence; may not be suitable for children under the age of 13.
"Lives alter, shadows die…who can perceive the Plan?" Silas
"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction." Newton's Third Law
Prologue: Newton's Law
It watched as the dark mist curled around in the empty space, if it was indeed mist. It often thought that maybe it could be smoke, or clouds, or dust…but it was something more. It was sure. There was nothing solid to cling to here in the vast Emptiness. But that was fine. It had no need for surface and stability. Stars and motes glimmered, hung in space. Where from, none could tell. Maybe they weren't even stars, maybe they were hopes or dreams or ideas. They wouldn't last long, not there. Not when It resided there.
It had no real form, but oft' times it would take the form of a hand, a manipulative body. It considered itself a bit poetic in taking on this form. It was right. It was a hand of Fate, or it considered itself one. It delighted in pain, in the screams of small children woken from heinous nightmares, nightmares that It had been a part of, carefully cultivated.
For now, It was still. Thinking. The motes moved furiously, agitated, as if trying to escape from their world of deep gloom. It was planning.
The hand-like form fell apart and it became a strange shroud of vagueness once more. It struck out a tenuous tendril into the smokey shadows of Nothing and they swirled and cleared, leaving an image. It was a window, a view of a time. A place. It showed an ancient battlefield, one from a war it had gladly taken part in. The Earth here was scarred and stained, the lush grass all but torn away but for a few scorched patches…except for one green patch, and it was growing. It hated the stalwart little huddle of green...but It couldn't destroy it because it kept coming back. The grass continued growing, expanding, healing the field. How It hated the grass...It had eradicated that grass during the Imprisoning War and it dared to come back. Yet It couldn't touch it…the thing shrieked a high pitched scream and whipped strong and angry tentacles at the window. The View became obscure and faded, almost placidly, back into shifting fog. Hissing belligerently, It coalesced into a white, abstract hand once more. It wanted a surface. It needed to plan.
With a wave of Its finger a platform appeared and It settled on it, hanging in the Nothingness. The platform itself looked like a round, slate monolith with deep grooves, slowly spinning. It needed to think.
There was something it desired. The motes gleamed brighter, as if they were laughing at him, shining through whirling shadows.
Screaming, It collapsed in form, raked infinitely long claws across the Emptiness. Destruction! And anger. It came back to itself and huddled in the center of the newly gouged platform. It would get what It wanted.
Slowly, the idea came and It formulated a plan. It messed with the lives of people, destroyed them, strangling the hope from their hearts...but there was more.
The plan formulated and grew. The dark mists swirled and altered, darkening in color, as if irritated, scathed. Trying to hide. It thought, I will start with dreams. All good plans started with dreams. Though those that did often failed.
It would not.
It put Its plan into action.
Right after it had a little bit of fun.
...To be continued...
Next... Ch. 1: There's Enough Scum to Go Around