Tantalus
A novel in the world of Final Fantasy 9® By joedooey42069
For the crystal was there, before all time, before all existence, it was the birth, the beginning. From the depths of the crystal he was borne, the one who knew all, the one who fought to rid the world of the fear, of the hopelessness.
Necron.
And from the crystal's power, the universe was created; all existence began; life was there. And Necron faded away with the birth of the Terrans, of Garland, and of Kuja, faded into oblivion. He saw the one who would conquer, yet he could not accept it. Not yet.
*~*~*
The children hid, shielded by their mother's arms in the house. Fathers stood at the windows, grimly staring at the procession before them.
The hooves of the horses beat down on the cobblestone pathways in between the stone huts. A few harsh sobs came from the onlookers. Whips cracked, horses neighed, and the wind rustled the trees. But other than that, there was nothing, not a sound in the tiny village of Bethrot.
Yet all at once the horses stopped, breaths were drawn sharply in, and the air hung still for a split second. And in that moment, in that one second, it seemed a year had passed. Gradually, a laced boot protruded from a curtained carriage. After that, another foot came out. The curtains spread; a sliver of light illuminated a grayish blue eye. A scar skirted the edge of the eyelid, the continued down for a good 5 inches or so until it reached the ear. Or where the ear should have been. At the area, a wreath of ivy encircled a stump of skin, a mottled blob of orange and purple.
This was Varinji Graddor, Honorable Magistrate of the Vekkan Army.
The Vekkans reigned from the Northern Mountains, traveled by sea across the world, and now appeared on the Mist Continent. They were a savage bunch, intent on converting the entire planet of Gaia to their wishes, but with a savagery that shared honor and elegance. Each and every single Vekkan warrior, no matter what rank, was adorned in a deep violet robe accompanied by a golden trimming. Above the silver and gold collar, there hung a sterling necklace with a pendant, a circular block of bronze embedded with a variety of precious stones. The lowly warriors wore an emerald imbued chain, generals and other chiefs possessed a yellow topaz, and Major generals and Leaders wore their chain with a diamond.
Varinji Graddor was the only person in the entire nation of Vekka who beheld the Sacred Amethyst, forged in the very depths of Hell itself, as the lore accompanied with the Gem relays it.
Millennia ago, there lived the Ultimate Master of Blacksmithing, Magnus Deepblade. He lived peacefully in the gloomy village of Ronci, far in the woods of the Outer Continent. Deepblade had formerly been a member of the Scarlet Wraiths, a sacred guild from the time of Gaia's birth. Deepblade required a rare metal for a blacksmithing job he was doing for the Regent of Lidunne, the preceding establishment to Lindblum, the Sprawling kingdom of now. Deepblade feared his age would overpower his desire to attain the metal, so he convinced a young able - looking man to undertake the quest for him. Deepblade gave to the man the metal's supposed location, a description, and a supply pack to last for a month or so. And the man left Ronci for the first time in his life. And some say his last.
Deepblade slept in fits of rage, visions of flame and screams that pierced his very soul. This lasted for 30 days and 29 nights. On the 30th night of the journey, a knock nearly knocked down Deepblade's door. He scurried to the door, for some reason fright welling up in his chest. On the doorstep rested the largest amethyst he had ever set his eyes on. As stared into its crystalline shape, a memory appeared, a memory of the last person to touch the stone. And Deepblade learned the story of how the young man had traveled down a dark and lonely path, sensing the metal nearby, and found an old wooden gate. At the touch of the gate, the man entered through the Gates of Hell themselves, he encountered the Eternal Demon, Lucifer, who possessed his soul and embodied it in the stone.
And Deepblade became so engrossed that he fell into the depths of the stone, his soul trapped as well forevermore into the innermost sanctum of the Gem. Magnus Deepblade was buried along with his Gem, for the people saw it fit.
So rumors have circulated since the rise of Varinji about how he gained possession of the Gem. Some say he dug up the grave on a raid, others say he found it on someone he killed, but the subject is up for discussion.
By now Graddor was fully out of the carriage, and was standing on the cobblestone pathway, arms folded calmly behind his back. At the chirp of a robin, his good ear twitched ever so slightly. His eyes raked the poor looking people of the village, and felt no sympathy. He cleared his throat and spoke in a richly accented voice.
"You vill all haff to die. All of youze! These are the days of Varinji Graddor, of the Vekkan Army. The whole vorld vill bend to our vill, our vishes, and our commands. And if not-" At this he patted his large battle blade ever so slightly: "And if not, ve vill kill you all. All who oppose. These are the days of Varinji Graddor."
He smiled ever so slightly, and was about to speak when he was interrupted by a commotion to his side, a slight murmur of wonder. He turned, and for the first time in his life, gasped.
A small hooded figure came rushing down a dirt road, sprinting at full speed. At a moment's notice he flicked off his robe and produced a beautifully carved double - edged war blade, glistening calmly. He then jumped, sailing over the heads of the onlookers, and swung his blade. The arc dazzled magnificently, and then the blade impaled Graddor's neck and protruded from the other side, rich with blood.
The mystery man had not intended for this to happen, but the blade actually pierced the chain that held Graddor's amulet. The necklace fell, but the man caught it deftly before it struck the ground. He admired it, pocketed it, and whipped his head to face the remaining army.
At the gaze of his whitish - blue eyes, a quarter of the army fled. The rest, who were dumbstruck, were instantly felled. The man set upon them with grim efficiency, and when the adversaries realized what was happening, all was lost. The last one was downed, and the town rejoiced.
For this man was no mystery to them, he was known well in the Prophecy. The one who beheld the legendary blade of Ultima, who possessed the Gem, he would save us.
This man was the Savior known as Garland.
*~*~*
For the rest of the decade the town was rejoicing their escape from imminent doom. But the day came when the happiness ceased, and the seriousness of the task they were about to undertake sank in.
Garland and a band of Bethrot men had formulated a plan. They built large vessels for the sea, supplied themselves, immersed themselves in extensive training programs by Garland. The men were ready.
Their plan was to travel to the Vekkan Highlands, infiltrate the remaining settlements, and banish the evil Vekkans from existence forever.
So the men left, the women wept, children waved as their fathers faded away into the early morning mist. The biggest exodus the village had ever seen had just occurred. And little did they know that their numbers would hardly replenish to the number they were before.
*~*~*
*The following words are extractions from the diary of Sea Captain Moragan Lang*
The seas are a bitter place, winds are fierce and squalls rage constantly. This newcomer, Garland, he's a queer one. He stands at the bow of the ship 24 hours a day no matter what the condition. I don't even need a compass, he knows the way to Vekka. It's almost as if it's ingrained in it's mind, his memory.
The other night he told us something odd. He sat us all down and explained the cosmos to us. The surrounding universe, and all that makes it up. He told us about another planet called. Terra. That's what it was. Terra, a nearby entity, and he pointed it out to us on the ship; it was the brightest light in the sky.
He told us about his dreams; to one day prepare our planet, Gaia, for the Assimilation. The one day when Terra would combine itself with Gaia to continue its life - the day that the Iifa Tree would commute the souls of the Terrans to the Gaians.
Of course, no one believed this poor fellow; we all thought he was crazy. But he shook his whitish gray hair, which was unusual for someone of his young age, and returned to his outlook on the bow.
He got me thinking, though. I never thought about anything 'cept my ships, about sailing the whole world one day and me. Was he telling the truth? I still can't decide.
*~*~*
Garland stood staring at the land approaching them. It looked harsh, barren, devoid of any life. But he knew the evil that was withheld deep in the mountains. The Vekkans resided there, in all their majestic tyranny.
The sleek ship was entering a small ring of ice islands, and the water became choppy.
"Don't fail me now, boys, get back up and get this thing to land!" The captain bellowed.
But Garland knew what was in store. He braced himself, stood against the rail, and closed his eyes.
All of a sudden, the ship struck a submerged iceberg; the hull was torn to shreds. The crew flailed about aimlessly, a few fell overboard.
"Garland! Get in the boat!"
The captain motioned for Garland to enter the tiny escape boat. Captain Lang looked away for a second, and when he looked back, the man had disappeared, and Lang looked down at the wondrous blade, as it splashed into the sea, beginning its descent to the depths of the ocean.
Suddenly a swinging beam caught Lang in the midriff and swung him overboard. The icy shock of the water knocked the air out of him, and he slowly faded away into unconsciousness.
The only survivor of the dreaded sea crash watched from above, in a tiny Genome village on the planet of Terra. Biding his time for the Assimilation.
A novel in the world of Final Fantasy 9® By joedooey42069
For the crystal was there, before all time, before all existence, it was the birth, the beginning. From the depths of the crystal he was borne, the one who knew all, the one who fought to rid the world of the fear, of the hopelessness.
Necron.
And from the crystal's power, the universe was created; all existence began; life was there. And Necron faded away with the birth of the Terrans, of Garland, and of Kuja, faded into oblivion. He saw the one who would conquer, yet he could not accept it. Not yet.
*~*~*
The children hid, shielded by their mother's arms in the house. Fathers stood at the windows, grimly staring at the procession before them.
The hooves of the horses beat down on the cobblestone pathways in between the stone huts. A few harsh sobs came from the onlookers. Whips cracked, horses neighed, and the wind rustled the trees. But other than that, there was nothing, not a sound in the tiny village of Bethrot.
Yet all at once the horses stopped, breaths were drawn sharply in, and the air hung still for a split second. And in that moment, in that one second, it seemed a year had passed. Gradually, a laced boot protruded from a curtained carriage. After that, another foot came out. The curtains spread; a sliver of light illuminated a grayish blue eye. A scar skirted the edge of the eyelid, the continued down for a good 5 inches or so until it reached the ear. Or where the ear should have been. At the area, a wreath of ivy encircled a stump of skin, a mottled blob of orange and purple.
This was Varinji Graddor, Honorable Magistrate of the Vekkan Army.
The Vekkans reigned from the Northern Mountains, traveled by sea across the world, and now appeared on the Mist Continent. They were a savage bunch, intent on converting the entire planet of Gaia to their wishes, but with a savagery that shared honor and elegance. Each and every single Vekkan warrior, no matter what rank, was adorned in a deep violet robe accompanied by a golden trimming. Above the silver and gold collar, there hung a sterling necklace with a pendant, a circular block of bronze embedded with a variety of precious stones. The lowly warriors wore an emerald imbued chain, generals and other chiefs possessed a yellow topaz, and Major generals and Leaders wore their chain with a diamond.
Varinji Graddor was the only person in the entire nation of Vekka who beheld the Sacred Amethyst, forged in the very depths of Hell itself, as the lore accompanied with the Gem relays it.
Millennia ago, there lived the Ultimate Master of Blacksmithing, Magnus Deepblade. He lived peacefully in the gloomy village of Ronci, far in the woods of the Outer Continent. Deepblade had formerly been a member of the Scarlet Wraiths, a sacred guild from the time of Gaia's birth. Deepblade required a rare metal for a blacksmithing job he was doing for the Regent of Lidunne, the preceding establishment to Lindblum, the Sprawling kingdom of now. Deepblade feared his age would overpower his desire to attain the metal, so he convinced a young able - looking man to undertake the quest for him. Deepblade gave to the man the metal's supposed location, a description, and a supply pack to last for a month or so. And the man left Ronci for the first time in his life. And some say his last.
Deepblade slept in fits of rage, visions of flame and screams that pierced his very soul. This lasted for 30 days and 29 nights. On the 30th night of the journey, a knock nearly knocked down Deepblade's door. He scurried to the door, for some reason fright welling up in his chest. On the doorstep rested the largest amethyst he had ever set his eyes on. As stared into its crystalline shape, a memory appeared, a memory of the last person to touch the stone. And Deepblade learned the story of how the young man had traveled down a dark and lonely path, sensing the metal nearby, and found an old wooden gate. At the touch of the gate, the man entered through the Gates of Hell themselves, he encountered the Eternal Demon, Lucifer, who possessed his soul and embodied it in the stone.
And Deepblade became so engrossed that he fell into the depths of the stone, his soul trapped as well forevermore into the innermost sanctum of the Gem. Magnus Deepblade was buried along with his Gem, for the people saw it fit.
So rumors have circulated since the rise of Varinji about how he gained possession of the Gem. Some say he dug up the grave on a raid, others say he found it on someone he killed, but the subject is up for discussion.
By now Graddor was fully out of the carriage, and was standing on the cobblestone pathway, arms folded calmly behind his back. At the chirp of a robin, his good ear twitched ever so slightly. His eyes raked the poor looking people of the village, and felt no sympathy. He cleared his throat and spoke in a richly accented voice.
"You vill all haff to die. All of youze! These are the days of Varinji Graddor, of the Vekkan Army. The whole vorld vill bend to our vill, our vishes, and our commands. And if not-" At this he patted his large battle blade ever so slightly: "And if not, ve vill kill you all. All who oppose. These are the days of Varinji Graddor."
He smiled ever so slightly, and was about to speak when he was interrupted by a commotion to his side, a slight murmur of wonder. He turned, and for the first time in his life, gasped.
A small hooded figure came rushing down a dirt road, sprinting at full speed. At a moment's notice he flicked off his robe and produced a beautifully carved double - edged war blade, glistening calmly. He then jumped, sailing over the heads of the onlookers, and swung his blade. The arc dazzled magnificently, and then the blade impaled Graddor's neck and protruded from the other side, rich with blood.
The mystery man had not intended for this to happen, but the blade actually pierced the chain that held Graddor's amulet. The necklace fell, but the man caught it deftly before it struck the ground. He admired it, pocketed it, and whipped his head to face the remaining army.
At the gaze of his whitish - blue eyes, a quarter of the army fled. The rest, who were dumbstruck, were instantly felled. The man set upon them with grim efficiency, and when the adversaries realized what was happening, all was lost. The last one was downed, and the town rejoiced.
For this man was no mystery to them, he was known well in the Prophecy. The one who beheld the legendary blade of Ultima, who possessed the Gem, he would save us.
This man was the Savior known as Garland.
*~*~*
For the rest of the decade the town was rejoicing their escape from imminent doom. But the day came when the happiness ceased, and the seriousness of the task they were about to undertake sank in.
Garland and a band of Bethrot men had formulated a plan. They built large vessels for the sea, supplied themselves, immersed themselves in extensive training programs by Garland. The men were ready.
Their plan was to travel to the Vekkan Highlands, infiltrate the remaining settlements, and banish the evil Vekkans from existence forever.
So the men left, the women wept, children waved as their fathers faded away into the early morning mist. The biggest exodus the village had ever seen had just occurred. And little did they know that their numbers would hardly replenish to the number they were before.
*~*~*
*The following words are extractions from the diary of Sea Captain Moragan Lang*
The seas are a bitter place, winds are fierce and squalls rage constantly. This newcomer, Garland, he's a queer one. He stands at the bow of the ship 24 hours a day no matter what the condition. I don't even need a compass, he knows the way to Vekka. It's almost as if it's ingrained in it's mind, his memory.
The other night he told us something odd. He sat us all down and explained the cosmos to us. The surrounding universe, and all that makes it up. He told us about another planet called. Terra. That's what it was. Terra, a nearby entity, and he pointed it out to us on the ship; it was the brightest light in the sky.
He told us about his dreams; to one day prepare our planet, Gaia, for the Assimilation. The one day when Terra would combine itself with Gaia to continue its life - the day that the Iifa Tree would commute the souls of the Terrans to the Gaians.
Of course, no one believed this poor fellow; we all thought he was crazy. But he shook his whitish gray hair, which was unusual for someone of his young age, and returned to his outlook on the bow.
He got me thinking, though. I never thought about anything 'cept my ships, about sailing the whole world one day and me. Was he telling the truth? I still can't decide.
*~*~*
Garland stood staring at the land approaching them. It looked harsh, barren, devoid of any life. But he knew the evil that was withheld deep in the mountains. The Vekkans resided there, in all their majestic tyranny.
The sleek ship was entering a small ring of ice islands, and the water became choppy.
"Don't fail me now, boys, get back up and get this thing to land!" The captain bellowed.
But Garland knew what was in store. He braced himself, stood against the rail, and closed his eyes.
All of a sudden, the ship struck a submerged iceberg; the hull was torn to shreds. The crew flailed about aimlessly, a few fell overboard.
"Garland! Get in the boat!"
The captain motioned for Garland to enter the tiny escape boat. Captain Lang looked away for a second, and when he looked back, the man had disappeared, and Lang looked down at the wondrous blade, as it splashed into the sea, beginning its descent to the depths of the ocean.
Suddenly a swinging beam caught Lang in the midriff and swung him overboard. The icy shock of the water knocked the air out of him, and he slowly faded away into unconsciousness.
The only survivor of the dreaded sea crash watched from above, in a tiny Genome village on the planet of Terra. Biding his time for the Assimilation.