a/n: Hello there good people. That's right: I'm not dead! But, anyway, here is chapter three.
I had a someone ask how to pronouce my character's name. It is pronounced LOCK-SOAR-IN.
Enjoy!
(And remember: I love reviews. They will make me write more).
Chapter 3: The Past Is the Past
The scene was called a bloody massacre, the chaotic setting of women and children sobbing in fear, the smell of blood wafting through the air. He felt the tough leather strips wrapped around the dagger hilt as he pulled it out of his victim's heart. Lauxorian was then known as a killer.
Lauxorian, born to an elven mother and a human father, was orphaned from the minute he came into this cruel world, his mother dying only moments after his first breath of air and his father long gone on his own adventures. Many times, he had asked the man who rasied him- his uncle- why his mother had just left him like that.
On one occation, Gylore sat back in his chair- if you could call it that- by the harth and sighed. "Boy, you're mother had no choice really. You see, when elvish women give birth, 85 percent of the time, they die."
The stout man took a long swig of his ale, got up- the seat creaking in relief that the weight of him was gone- and knelt before his ward, staring the young elf/human in the eye. "Don't blame her, Lauxorian. Blame genetics."
Lauxorian seemed to understand, but his irrational human side screamed for the heartache to stop.
As for his father, no questions were ever asked. By the time the red-head was three-years-old, he had heard of the great Thief King, Jorn.
"Lanna would be so disapointed in my brother." his caretaker used to mummble at the very mention of the man's name. Lauxorian vowed at a young age to become the man his father never could be.
The best. At everything.
Now, from a young age, Lauxorian showed talent with a sword. Even though it was only a wooden facsimile used for beating the local kids who dared to tease him, he was really quiet good with a weapon in his hands. Sadly, that just made the adults in the village hate him. Said it was a natural trait from his father.
If only they knew.
Fastforward to the day of the red-head's fifteenth birthday. On that day, six men of considerable wealth came into the small mountain village and began to cause quite the uproar. They demanded to see the son of the thief, that the boy would be their ticket to finding their "freind".
Needless to say, Lauxorian was just short of kidnapped from his home and was, in turn, taught all he knows by these strange thugs who claimed to be old 'family friends.'
For six years, he trained in the ways of the assassin, drinking up every bit of knowlage that these men had to pass on.
Finally came the day of Lauxorian's 'initiation.' All he had to do was loot some old temple to the Winged Goddess, Valkerie. Simple, when a certain priest doesn't get in the way.
Slipping past gaurds as if he was a whisp of smoke, Lauxorian made his way to the ancient building's coffers, once rumored to hold one of the largest stores of gold on the whole planet. The mission was simple: get the gold, then get out.
No one told the newbie that today was the Feast of Union, the day Valkerie met her consort, Chaos. That ment everyone who was anyone at the temple was joyfully eating, drinking, and dancing in the main dining hall.
Right in the way of his prize.
No matter. I'll just...take them out.
Seconds later, the whole building was buzzing, the priest lying dead on the floor, a hole in his heart.
Lauxorian was roused from his head-trauma induced sleep by a woman shouting from somewhere below the room he was curently in.
That reminds me: Where the heck am I?
He swung his legs over the edge of the small overly used bed, but when he tried to stand he was instantly hit with a strong wave of vertigo, causing him to flop back on the bed.
"Gods be damned" he mummbled to himself...and the newcomer to the room.
The first person he saw was a tall demon-like man with pircing red eyes and long, unkept, black hair. The caped man took in the sight of a weary Lauxorian and turned back to the hallway and noted the awakening of their guest in a deep gruff voice.
Next to join was a slinder female with back-length brown hair with the chocolate eyes to match, presumably the woman yelling from downstairs earlier, and, by the defeated look on his face, the man with which she had quarled.
He had spikey blonde lockes that somewhat reminded the red-head of a chocobo, but that was not what had him doing a double take.
The young man had the same blue eyes as he did, the ones that seem to glow as if lit by some unseen light behind them.
Lauxoiran's face lit up as he raised to a sitting position.
"Are you of elvish kind as well?" he asked in the native toung of his mother's people.
When the three people gave him confused looks, he got his answer.
"Obviously not. I'm sorry, but I saw your eyes and thought that you were one of my kin. Your just a..." - is voice turned venomous- "human."
As the tone did not go unnoticed, a thick blanket of tension covered the room. It was obvious that the blonde resented that comment, adding to the unease. The woman broke the silence due to the aching need for introductions.
"Well, my name is Tifa"- she jabbed her tumbs at the two men slightly behind her on both sides- "and these two are Cloud - the blonde - and Vincent."
Her smile was sincere - and one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. He could stare at it all day, if Cloud had not asked him for his name so soon; and so full of malice.
"So, what's your name?" Tifa glared at him from the corner of her eyes.
Mearly shrugging, Cloud turned his back on the intruder. "I see it only fair that he tells us."
"Lauxorian of Kraydal. Pleased to make your aquantince, my Lady." Tifa let out a small girlish giggle as the red-head took a low sweeping bow and kissed her worn knuckles.
He smirked up at her from under his crimson bangs before straightening up and pulling her slightly closer.
"A woman who fights? Quite extraordinary. I would love to see you in action."
Cloud wipped around faster than most people could run, a glare full of jelousy boring into the eyes that matched his.
"I think we're done here, Tifa. We have company downstairs anyway."
The lovely girl's face took on a look of panic as her friend's words sunk in.
"Oh! I forgot!" She turned to Lauxorian and tugged him by his unually soft hands towards the door.
As they passed Cloud, the crimson haired killer thought the evil thought of: This should be fun.