Illuminate the World: A PSU Fanfiction. (Level 3)

[Nyreal]

Prologue: To Become the Sky.

Is it... a dream...?

This can't be real. There's a shade of fantasy that grows deeper with every passing minute. The colors... They're fading from that ethereal rainbow I know so well. The lights are disappearing; your Light is disappearing.

The colors before him shifted and coalesced in a neon rain. It was as if the alchemy of his thoughts and emotions were being poured out of him. He felt as if he were in a sea of celestial color. Dark purples meshed and floated among dark blues and greens; he fancied that, if he was able to see, that his body must have been a solid-tone of cel-shaded fuschia against a swirling backdrop of changing color. He mused that, if this indeed was his mind, that it was fitting that it resembled a techno-fueled visualization.

This isn't like me at all. I'm not supposed to be depressed.

Just then, he heard a familiar voice echo through the ocean of colors. The voice held a comforting presence to it, and he felt at peace... As if a cosmic lullaby was being sung to him as he listened. The melody of the voice was slow, calming--it was the sound of music in the rain, a techno nightLight softly playing its sweet song through the blue of a dark rainy night. He was barely able to understand the voice; he felt the words more than he heard them. This feeling, this emotion. He was sad, and yet elated as he felt a cool wave of color pass in front of him blue--a muted blue and grey, constantly moving, as though water were dropping on the surface above his sea of calm.

I wonder... Is this life? What if all I could do to look at the world was to watch the raindrops fall? Perhaps my whole life has been spent looking up at the surface of the water, watching only the distorted afterimage that my small amount of Light offers me.

He felt another jolt of emotion. This time, the voice came out clearer. Instead of merely a beat, he began to feel a tempo. The voices were speaking at him in unison, humming a soft song of melancholic blue.

The rain continued to fall above him. With each drop of grey, ripples of blue would form and escape from the epicenter. These ripples would move with the other ones, flowing freely until their cel-shaded morose blue energy ceased.

I wonder... Am I a drop, or a ripple? I suppose I'm a drop in the sea...

Why not be a cloud?

That sounds much more like me.

But you know... To be a cloud, you would have to escape the ocean.

I understand that.

There's only two ways to become a cloud; either you learn how to fly and meet them on your own... Or you evaporate.

How funny. Am I a raindrop learning how to fly, or am I a DJ searching for a beat?

Marvelling at his skills of Zen Koan, he reached a mute toned hand upwards in an attempt to play with his hair. However, when his hand had reached its zenith, he noticed that the view above him looked odd. The "sky" that he could see past the surface of his mind's sea had darkened. The ripples had become an ethereally glowing ceruleans, and the drops served to further distort this picture. The voices were now coming in clear; clearer than he could ever hope to simply hear something. He smelled a change in the colors with every word, he was able to see the vibration that the soundwaves caused, he was able to feel the emotions and longing in each word.

Have you ever wanted to travel to other worlds... To places where nothing seems anywhere near real?

Near real. That had been the story of his life, ever since he was born, ever since his mother had died, ever since he met his friends, ever since he had first stepped foot on Ragol. If that was reality, then Nyreal felt no hesitation with stepping away from it altogether; beyond the gray and blue rain above him. He reached a hand above him again, and reached out for the clouds. No, not the clouds; Nyreal was going to reach for the stars in that sky.

And I suppose there's a reason for my doing this... Not that I really need to know.

Two presences came up behind him, and placed their hands on his own upraised arm.

There's no reason to anything, Nyreal. We're going to become clouds simply because we can.



<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-12-04 02:17 ]</font>

[Nyreal]

Edit: Since I seem to lack the power of deleting my own posts.

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-10-26 03:06 ]</font>

[Sgt_Shligger]

So, do you plan on taking this anywhere or is this a standalone piece?

I enjoyed reading it myself. Nice vivid descriptions (being trapped inside a subconscious, tie-dye paint bucket is what I pictured.) The only thing that bugs me is the PSO reference. There's nothing wrong with it but, atthe same time, it seems like you could take this in so many directions.

[Nyreal]

On 2007-10-26 12:01, Sgt_Shligger wrote:
So, do you plan on taking this anywhere or is this a standalone piece?

I enjoyed reading it myself. Nice vivid descriptions (being trapped inside a subconscious, tie-dye paint bucket is what I pictured.) The only thing that bugs me is the PSO reference. There's nothing wrong with it but, atthe same time, it seems like you could take this in so many directions.



Well, to be honest, this is my own strange way of bringing my characters to Gurhal. Since I have no idea how the universes are linked in the timeline, I've decided to do something that makes absolutely no sense. Or does it?

But yes, I am planning to do more with this once I manage to free up some time in my schedule.

[Nyreal]

Okay. So I was originally planning on updating before the update, but that plan sort of fell-through, and I ended up with this amazingly slapdash Level thrown together. My next venture will be much more interesting, I promise. I simply feel guilty if I don't update once a week.

Please stick with me past this little exposition here. Next week will make things a bit more interesting, and, as usual, I encourage any sort of comment or criticism that you might have for me.


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-11-02 02:03 ]</font>


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-11-02 03:50 ]</font>

[Nyreal]

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.
Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see...-- Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen.

Level One: The End.

He felt rather calm. As a matter of fact, as far as dreams went, Nyreal always found it comforting when he had a particularly strange or unnerving one, as it would cause him to thrash around violently (usually agitating a certain someone into an angry awakening). The thrashing would cause the water bed in his apartment to jiggle just so, in that comforting and undulatory female manner that was just comfortable enough to put him back to sleep. Normally, that would be the end of it.

But there was something else this time. For some odd reason, his bed continued its lovely and comforting motion for longer than he had assumed possible by the normal laws of physics. It also felt somewhat softer than he was used to. As a matter of fact, there were lots of things wrong with it. For one thing, it was wet. Now, Nyreal was used to having a hot, steamy, somewhat moist night every now and then (every now and then being read as "on a nightly basis"), but it seemed to him that his place of rest and rejuvenation was more wet than it should be. Nyreal, in his exhausted condition, was not necessarily in the mood to discern the discrepancies between his usually somewhat moist bed, and the strangely soaked mattress he now found himself lying in. Or rather, the strangely soaked mattress that he assumed he was lying in, as he had yet to open his eyes. As much as he enjoyed the sight of his partners lovely pale female voluptuousness, he didn't find it necessary to gaze at her at three in the morning. As a matter of principle, he always chose sleep before perversion, as its always a possibility that you could have surprise sleep sex. But aside from all this, he noticed that there was sand in his eyes. Not your normal eye sand, actually. There seemed to be much more; unnatural amounts of eye sand would put off any FOmar from utilizing his ocular accoutrement, after all.

And he was also cold, which isn't a normal thing to him if this was any of the types of bed wetness he was used to. Nyreal also noticed a new smell, which was different from the sultry scents he was generally accosted by when he awoke in the middle of the night (unless of course it was "dessert" night). Among all of these musings, he also wondered why he was sticky, why he had sand everywhere, and why his bed had become slanted.

He explained these away with the comforting thought that he'd find it all out in the morning, hopefully with a second round. This thought, however, was a lie.

The truth came crashing down on top of him. He was suddenly thrown about in what he noticed was water. Nyreal now began to notice things; the fact that he was underwater had forced his eyes open, a quality which is normally helpful when investigating your surroundings... Unless you're a FOmar.

Oh, the lies began and truth ended. Or... Wasn't it the other way around? His truth was dispelled quite succinctly and directly: he was not at home, in his bed, nor on top of his lover. All of his poetic and sleepy ruminations had been made moot.

The lies, however, were much more factual and far less verbose: he was cold, he was wet, he was outside. The sun was rising to his left, and another wall of water was heading straight towards him. He muttered a distinct, yet monotone "What?" before being thrown around once more by another suffocating wave. As much as he loved water, this seemed to be a bit too much. He coughed up some water, procured his bearings, and stood up.

---
He waited until the sun had risen. There were many reasons for this, but the most pertinent was that the sunrise seemed very pretty today, as if the sunshine was flowing through a liquid filter before it reached him. It almost appeared as if there was a mountain of water far off in the distance, but he figured that it was just his eyes playing tricks on him. Years of being labeled as the blindest of the blind sort of have a way of reducing one's confidence in their perception of things. Once there was an adequate amount of orange and gold light (this also coincided with the end of his attention span, but lets not go into that), Nyreal stood up and made his way up the beach. As he walked up, he noticed that the trees were an amazing assortment of red and orange. They reminded him of pictures he had seen of an ancient planet. And as beautiful as they were, he realized that these were not the sorts of things he remembered seeing on Ragol. Somehow, he had stranded himself on some unknown part of the planet.

"Oh. How amazing. Last I checked, the government wouldn't even allow this sort of thing. This is a bit odd. Whoever stranded could have at least been nice and left me my weapon capsules. Oh well..." His sardonic monologue ended as he formed a small ball of fire in his palm.

"Even without my weapons, I suppose I can incinerate the populace until they drop me a telepipe." Nyreal walked into the lush, red, Japanese-styled forest with with an amused grin, covering his inner sense of uneasiness.

It almost seemed as if the mountains on both sides of his small beach paradise were welcoming him, like abysmal gatekeepers.

+++
Next Time--

Nyreal: Wait! What are these things? They're not Rappies! This is ridiculous. And who's that guy over there? Also, why are these chapters so short and this preview so ridiculous!?

[Obviously, because I as narrator will it so! Now go and burninate things, dammit!]

Nyreal: Ugh. What a moron. Next time, on Illuminate the World:

The Meaning of Truth

Nyreal: See you soon!

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-11-02 02:01 ]</font>


<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-11-02 02:04 ]</font>

[CupOfCoffee]

What you've got here is pretty far ahead of the general Fan Works literary curve, without a doubt. The descriptions are very precise and interesting in most places, but I think there's a lot of "fluff" you could cut out. For instance...


Nyreal, in his exhausted condition, was not necessarily in the mood to discern the discrepancies between his usually somewhat moist bed, and the strangely soaked mattress he now found himself lying in.

...could probably be trimmed down to something like, "Nyreal, in his exhaustion, wasn't necessarily in the mood to count the differences between his usual bed and the strangely soaked mattress he had found himself in," without really losing any meaning. In fact, condensing things and more carefully selecting words often adds to the scene the reader is able to paint in his or her mind. You've got a lot of big, interesting words here, but they aren't always necessary. "Accoutrement," for example, should probably be replaced with "equipment" or something similar to prevent anyone from feeling intimidated by words and phrases the majority of college students would probably need to look up.

But like I said, you've got plenty of excellent material here and you have an obvious talent for translating thoughts into words. So keep it up!

[HUnewearl_Meira]

Stickied.

[Nyreal]

Oh, wow. I searched through the first two pages of Fan Works before deciding to ctrl+F myself a topic. Imagine my surprise when I actually noticed it was stickied. http://www.pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/anime2.gif;

This is very flattering. Thank you very much, Meira. And thank you, CupofCoffee. I'm never quite sure about when my vocabulary manages to go overboard, so its nice to know where I've gone a bit too far.

I think I'll stick to my Thursday update schedule, so you can all expect Level Two then. I'm still very flattered. XD

[Nyreal]

What is waiting for me tomorrow as I sing and live without meaning?
Alone in my room, as my heartbeat screams:
"Don't kid yourself and don't fool yourself"--Kodou, Dir En Grey

Level 2: The Meaning of Truth

It's so damned cold. Nyreal mused, as the bitter paradox of a freezing sunshine rained upon him. His constant shivering made it hard for him to maintain the flickering flame that he held in his hands. Despite the moisture that seemed to be freezing as he breathed it in, Nyreal was able to notice the scenery surrounding him. What stood out to him the most was the burst of color he discovered from within the soothingly orange foliage. He was also able to hear the soft sound of running water, somewhere in the distance. He assumed that it lead back to his unique beach location, the one that seemed to break out of the mountains for his convenience. The natural landforms that surrounded him seemed to be funneling in towards something, what he did not know. After a few minutes more of walking, Nyreal finally ran across the stream he had been listening to... It reminded him strangely of the Forest. The same sense of peace and wonder enveloped him as he gazed upon the clear blue waters of the stream, along with the vermilion leaves that flowed with it.

"Hmm..." Nyreal squatted next to the water, and ran his hand through it. A brief deja-vu followed. He had been in this same position, years before. The feelings were the same. Nyr was still in his same position... Legs in front of him, one arm holding his knees, another arm reaching out into the cold, biting water. Years ago, like now, he shrugged a lock of purple hair out of his eyes. The only change in all of those years had been a slight change in chroma and hue. The leaves on this ground were vermilion and crimson, while the ones in his Forest of memory had unshiftingly been a reserved shade of viridian. He had, of course, discounted the changes within himself that had taken place. It had been six years since he had witnessed a whole new world.

Now, just as then, Nyreal turned his head slightly, and he saw the water curve up the hill, and into a door.

One would think that these sorts of eerie parallels would creep out your average protagonist. Well, to be honest, Nyreal wasn't necessarily one to care. He smiled at the warm and fuzzy feelings, and then gleefully shivered his way up the hill and towards the strange door.

"It's... Newer than I remember." He took another step forward, and the out-of-use neon lights that adorned the monolith flickered before him. They lit up as jewels of green, and the door slowly slid open in front of him.

Shattered memories flew past him. Of his past, of his friends... Of Lights long gone, that felt further away than the stars. The view in front of him expanded beyond his view in a surreal fashion, as if strokes of a watercolor brush had been painted on glass. The scenery looked so untouchable compared to Ragol... Foreign. He felt as if he were at a party he was not invited to, wherein he knew noone. So foreign, yet it was all so familiar. Right down to...

A shape appeared in rings of feint light. It was humanoid... But he knew the way these sorts of things went. In fact, these odd creatures reminded him of something from an old Xbox game, sight alone. Instead of the proper moniker (which he assumed would be something Jamaican-sounding, perhaps "Go, mon"), Nyreal just referred to it as Big Daddy.

"Aww... You poor guy. You're covered in ice," Nyreal said as he approached his adversary, the dull flame flickering in his hand glowing brighter and more fierce, illuminating his grinning face, "Too bad for you, but my favorite spell has always been FOIE!" At the cue, Nyreal threw his small ball of fire at the Gohmon in front of him. It connected, causing the beast to flinch as its body was charred by the unfamiliar and unwelcome element. Nyreal wasted no time.

He dashed towards the monster, leapt into the air, and delivered an air-shattering backflip kick to the monster's skull. The Gohmon's body spun and flew into the air for a time before falling back to earth. It disappeared in a indigo-tinted corporeal haze, leaving behind what appeared to be a box.

Of course, it wasn't shaped like anything he'd ever seen. He was used to the boxes that were three dimensional diamonds... Not whatever this contraption was. He stooped over to inspect it. It had a base like a pyramid, and then some sort of pointy protrustion. He slammed the box on the ground, and found himself wishing that he still had capsules.

"God dammit all six ways to hell on a sunday. What the frick is this?" Nyreal expelled angrily as he began to pummel the box on a nearby rock. A lock of purple hair fell into his field of vision. As he moved to toss it out of his green eyes, he heard a noise, and looked down to see that he had pushed the strange protrusion upwards, and that that had unlocked his magical mystery box.

Much to his surprise, its contents were to be useful. Another swooshing sound was heard, and he looked up to find himself surrounded by a reflection of the same monster he had just killed.... A circle of icy demons surrounded him. He felt the air drop in degrees around his skin, and his wet and clingy Fomar robes.

The object in his hand glowed with energy.

+++
Next time, on Illuminate the World:

Nyreal: Ooh, this seems interesting. A whip... Heheh...

'Nuff said. Tomorrow's chapter:

Heroes Always Arrive Late

Nyreal: See you soon!

<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Nyreal on 2007-11-15 00:16 ]</font>

[Nyreal]

I'll be updating... On what is essentially tomorrow. I swear I'm going somewhere with all this. It's necessary to paint an image of the hero, no? And any sort of incongruity will be explained later, of course. Nyreal's a rather old character... And he's got a pretty big backlog of stories that I'll weave in later.

Aside from that... I feel pretty bad about this chapter as a whole. Does anyone feel like critiquing it for me?

[Nyreal]

Have some composure, where is your posture?
You're pulling the trigger all wrong. -- Time to Dance, Panic! At the Disco

Level 3: Heroes Always Arrive Late

The world was pastel toned around him. The shock of an unnatural fear permeated his being, scared him. He forgot himself.

It reminds me... Of...

The Gohmon advanced, surrounding him. He let out a primal yell, jabbing the photonic blade into the nearest beast, withdrawing it quickly. His hands burned with flame as he jumped and flipped over his slain quarry. The flames which enveloped his hands were then channeled into his right hand and sent streaming towards one more unlucky victim. Nyreal wasted no time with his landing. He quickly dashed into the Gohmon on his right, leaving a large cut in its gut.

He sensed motion above him, and he quickly raised his sword to block. He struggled with the claws of a previously unseen Gohmon before throwing them on and dicing the beast in two with a spinning backwards slice. Nyreal felt a wave of cold hit him from the side, doubling him over and onto the floor. He wasn't aware that these monsters could cast some sort of Ice spell. His frozen leg, however, was proof positive of that fact.

"Sorry for the lame end," Nyreal uttered quietly as he pulled back his outturned blade, as if it were a javelin. "Goodnight," he finally muttered as he threw the blade into the skull of the final enemy.

As the beast disincorporated itself, he noticed a strange box, much like the one he had seen earlier. It was red this time.

Now, it just so happens that Nyreal was raised worshipping the goddess of all things Red and Starry. Some called this a false religion, and they also said that the mother who taught him its esoteric workings was insane.

However, he was rather fond of his mother (which is a cruel and brutal understatement), and his Red Goddess would have been quite pleased at the contents of the equally red box.

He swung his new toy around, in a rather large radius. Photonic fireflies were tossed around with each successive swing, and the ground made a distinct crack with every one of his motions. Fate must be masochistic, for it had handed Nyreal Destiny a flaming Whip.

And his particular Red Goddess might enjoy that a bit, he mused. Not the one in the shrines back home... Or maybe that one did, too. After all, he thought, S&M is far more common than one might think. He had heard stories. Stories about... Newmen, most of the time. He chuckled, "Eleanor and Montague, anyone?" These words were heard by noone, a revelation that bothered Nyreal. He needed to head back towards civilization, if only so that he can grace the unwashed masses with his keen and brilliant wit. Or lack, thereof. He didn't necessarily care. He was much more worried about his lovely goddess of red -- bolting past him. Something red and quite interesting, that is, flew past his vision at the speed of sound. How he managed to see something that is likely and inherently as invisible as sound is still up for debate, but he attempted to look in the direction that the blur had migrated towards anyways. He noticed nothing.

After muttering something about never trusting the water in this area of Ragol, he regained his bearings and continued through the next door.

---
Years of Castlevania had paid off.

In spades.

Nyreal swung his whip with ease, slicing through the air and his opponents with every flick of his wrist. The mob of monsters fell quickly this time, and as the last one fell, he heard the unlocking of another door.

And the high-pitched whirr of a laser blast coming in from his side. Nyreal swiftly jumped forward, landing on his outstretched hand, and suspended himself this way. He looked to his left--the beach below and beyond and upside down--and to his right. Of course, the second direction he moved his head towards was always the one that should have had priority. This thought was punctuated by another inverted and curiously blacklit laser beam, that he managed to dodge by throwing his body into the air. He did a bit of mid-air twisting; he was determined to go on the offensive this time. As he landed--left-arm outstretched and ground-first--he channeled technic energy into his palm, which caused a reaction in the air that shot forth a wave of white and cold ice crystals in all directions surrounding him.

"Rabarta," Nyreal chanted, seemingly out of habit. He maneuvered himself back onto his feet. Nyreal waved his arms, and flames streamed from his hands. A pair of fireballs quickly circled around him in an outwards spiral, following the trails left by his previous blast of ice. He jumped into the air, towards a tree. As he flew to the top of it, he was able to hear another laser, but unable to dodge it. Searing energy singed his shoulder as he made contact with the tree closest to the mountainside.

He was able to make out a faint blur of red and purple and grey at the newly unlocked door, and then a gathering and intensifying of light.

The small, female robot back on earth lifted its weapon to its right eye, and fired at the apex of Nyreal's tree.

---
Nyreal: What...? Who are you? You seem so... familiar.

Next time, on Illuminate the World:

Beyond the Rising Falls

Nyreal: See you soon!

[Nyreal]

Hmm. Please leave any comments and criticism you might have. I'll try to update more often from this point on. I finally have a plot, you see.

And I'll try to stop asking for comments and criticism after this point as well. It's basically implied! >_>;;