Author's Note: This is just a prologue. It is not long, however the other chapters will be. Also, Final Fantasy VII is owned by SquareSoft. I'm just promoting their wonderful game.
Prologue
A lone man stood on the rolling planes of the deserted planet. No, deserted wasn't the proper word. It was a new planet that hadn't been filled with life. Yet it was alive. Created by one of his own kind. Created by him.
The race that the man belonged to was one that now thought they were invincable, and that they ruled the universe. The Alconians.
They created planets.
They created races.
But they also destroyed them. They pitted the races together in war, watching carelessly. A form of entertainment really. The man thought it sick and disturbing. No living creature should have war forced upon itself, not even if it was created in a lab.
He looked out over the plains, realizing that a war would take place on this very soil. Damning it to Hell with blood stains and piles of lifeless corpses.
But he had created a unique planet, and a unique race. The planet had what he had coined, "The LifeStream." A complex object that even he found hard to explain.
He had dedicated a good few hundred centuries to the project, but it was all worth it. He watched a glowing green tentacle rise from the soil, a tree forming from it. The first bit of life to be created on the planet. He watched as more green tentacles arose, and more vegetation was born.
That wasn't the end of his inginuity however, he had created his race to interact with the Lifestream. The Cetra he had come to call them. A word meaning peace in some native tongue lost long ago. He had had a hard time giving the Council permission to let his own race fight upon his own planet. But after a few more decades the final plans were set, and the war would take place in a mere 5 years.
The three other races were all bred to be of warrior class. Strong, brutal, and nearly emoshionless. He knew that without the Lifestream and a few extra little tricks he had waiting, his race would die in the blink of an eye. He clasped one of the green orbs in his hand, and then tossed it out into the plain of rolling grass. "Simon," he whispered to himself, "Perhaps a new age will befall your people. Perhaps..."
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The war was a mere day away, and it was simply called, "War 13342" A simple designation given to the 13,342nd war that the Alconians had recorded.
The four races were assembled, all just lifeless corpses right now. They would have life injected into them, like some kind of medication. And then memories would be created for each idividual. All four races tying into one another, and creating an interwoven history of conflict between them.
Simon quietly watched as his Cetra were being brought to life in stasis. They wouldn't wake up until they reached the surface and were deposited into their respective homes. An entire world had been built upon the surface of his planet, which he simply called Planet.
Three fourths of the structures would most likely be destroyed. He sighed, looking over the lists of the three races that were going to be trying to stop him from obtaining peace.
The Gargoyles. A term he hadn't seen since he had read one of the ancient books imported from the ancient race they had once came from.
The Demons.
And the Titans.
He looked at the specs for each individual race. All large, burly, muscular, able to handle any weapon. However, all were pretty dull. The Council didn't allow a race to be perfect, they didn't want to be overthrown. So, they carefully monitered the progression of every race.
He put the compupad down, watching out the starboard window as flames errupted around his ships shields, the beautiful flames, dancing on his golden eyes. The ship came to a slow and gentle halt upon The Planet's surface.
The hatch opened with a hiss as it lowered slowly to the ground, the teal steps landing on the ground below. His crew began to unload the Cetra and placing them in their various places with PMVs. The Personal Mobile Vehicles were able to carry one crew man and five Cetra. And the task of placing the 50,000 beings was quickly finished with the incredable speed of the PMVs and the quick working of his crew.
He walked slowly back up the teal steps, a slight clank resounding in his ears as his metal Counsil issue boots rang out on contact with the steps. He turned around, giving a final farwell to The Planet and the Cetra.
The door closed once again, a slight hiss escaping for the second time in 24 hours, and the ship took off silently.
He flipped on his viewscreen, and then pressed the red button in unison with the other 3 Creators, and the Cetra, the Gargoyles, the Demons, and the Titans all awoke.
And so it begins. A Chronicle of one Final Fantasy.
Prologue
A lone man stood on the rolling planes of the deserted planet. No, deserted wasn't the proper word. It was a new planet that hadn't been filled with life. Yet it was alive. Created by one of his own kind. Created by him.
The race that the man belonged to was one that now thought they were invincable, and that they ruled the universe. The Alconians.
They created planets.
They created races.
But they also destroyed them. They pitted the races together in war, watching carelessly. A form of entertainment really. The man thought it sick and disturbing. No living creature should have war forced upon itself, not even if it was created in a lab.
He looked out over the plains, realizing that a war would take place on this very soil. Damning it to Hell with blood stains and piles of lifeless corpses.
But he had created a unique planet, and a unique race. The planet had what he had coined, "The LifeStream." A complex object that even he found hard to explain.
He had dedicated a good few hundred centuries to the project, but it was all worth it. He watched a glowing green tentacle rise from the soil, a tree forming from it. The first bit of life to be created on the planet. He watched as more green tentacles arose, and more vegetation was born.
That wasn't the end of his inginuity however, he had created his race to interact with the Lifestream. The Cetra he had come to call them. A word meaning peace in some native tongue lost long ago. He had had a hard time giving the Council permission to let his own race fight upon his own planet. But after a few more decades the final plans were set, and the war would take place in a mere 5 years.
The three other races were all bred to be of warrior class. Strong, brutal, and nearly emoshionless. He knew that without the Lifestream and a few extra little tricks he had waiting, his race would die in the blink of an eye. He clasped one of the green orbs in his hand, and then tossed it out into the plain of rolling grass. "Simon," he whispered to himself, "Perhaps a new age will befall your people. Perhaps..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The war was a mere day away, and it was simply called, "War 13342" A simple designation given to the 13,342nd war that the Alconians had recorded.
The four races were assembled, all just lifeless corpses right now. They would have life injected into them, like some kind of medication. And then memories would be created for each idividual. All four races tying into one another, and creating an interwoven history of conflict between them.
Simon quietly watched as his Cetra were being brought to life in stasis. They wouldn't wake up until they reached the surface and were deposited into their respective homes. An entire world had been built upon the surface of his planet, which he simply called Planet.
Three fourths of the structures would most likely be destroyed. He sighed, looking over the lists of the three races that were going to be trying to stop him from obtaining peace.
The Gargoyles. A term he hadn't seen since he had read one of the ancient books imported from the ancient race they had once came from.
The Demons.
And the Titans.
He looked at the specs for each individual race. All large, burly, muscular, able to handle any weapon. However, all were pretty dull. The Council didn't allow a race to be perfect, they didn't want to be overthrown. So, they carefully monitered the progression of every race.
He put the compupad down, watching out the starboard window as flames errupted around his ships shields, the beautiful flames, dancing on his golden eyes. The ship came to a slow and gentle halt upon The Planet's surface.
The hatch opened with a hiss as it lowered slowly to the ground, the teal steps landing on the ground below. His crew began to unload the Cetra and placing them in their various places with PMVs. The Personal Mobile Vehicles were able to carry one crew man and five Cetra. And the task of placing the 50,000 beings was quickly finished with the incredable speed of the PMVs and the quick working of his crew.
He walked slowly back up the teal steps, a slight clank resounding in his ears as his metal Counsil issue boots rang out on contact with the steps. He turned around, giving a final farwell to The Planet and the Cetra.
The door closed once again, a slight hiss escaping for the second time in 24 hours, and the ship took off silently.
He flipped on his viewscreen, and then pressed the red button in unison with the other 3 Creators, and the Cetra, the Gargoyles, the Demons, and the Titans all awoke.
And so it begins. A Chronicle of one Final Fantasy.
