RubyEclipse
May 6, 2005, 11:02 PM
Hello everyone. With the recent light shed on the pre-ragol history from the PSO:BB site, I took some quotes from the real game and merged them into a story that details what happened before the Pioneer Project was born. I would greatly appreciate any feedback you guys have, even if it's negative. http://pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_razz.gif
With that, I hope you enjoy...
Leavin' Flow
Part 1
Heathcliff adjusted the recorder pitch, glanced up at the sun, and began speaking into the machine.
"I know who is watching this..." He began, swallowing a cough. His sickness as of late was apparently not ready to leave just yet. "I decided to leave a little ahead of you.", he spoke again. His voice starting to brighten from it's normal mellow tone.
"It's sad that we can't see each other, but I don't want to tempt fate..." He continued, a hint of sadness creeping slowly into the very air he breathed. He looked around, examining the green leaves swaying among the branches, the sunlight casting shadows and soft rays down upon the land. Ragol was immersed in brightness.
"It's very peaceful here" he said, almost without thinking - almost as if the words had been spoken by a friend who had not spoken in many years. But surely, that was nonsense. There was too great a gap for... ... "It's boring because it's too peaceful.", he laughed. "Donoph..." His voice softened. "This is not the place for you. Especially, for you! Ha ha ha..."
The soft laugh brought back memories. Memories of violence and war, but memories which he was not afraid to remember.
----------
Donoph's sword found it's mark, and three enemy officers fell to the ground. Bullet's shot past Donoph's head, but Two answering shots from somewhere behind him hit the would be - attacker before he could find his mark. Flowen ran past him, his brown hair glowing in the fires and cloud blackened sky around them.
"More of them, behind that building." He said quickly, pointing to what was now a heap of rubble burning softly amidst a sea of chaos. Donoph and Flowen ran forward and split, Donoph going right and Flowen taking the left.
The leftover survivors of the military were far too weak to stop them. Two photon swings and a bullet later, Flowen and Donoph opened the door to the cellar slowly, listening to the echoing creak as the dim light illumintated the stairway.
"Down there. This is it." Flowen grasped his sword tightly, as did Donoph, and the two looked at each other.
"We've been fighting alongside each other for over a year..." Donoph said. "I regard you as my best friend, and my most trusted ally. No matter what happens down here, Flowen, It has been my honor to fight with you."
Flowen grinned, his usual optimistic self showing again, even in the middle of war. "The same to you, Donoph. I would be no military "hero" were you not here - you've saved me countless times, and for that I owe you my life. But for now, let's take care of this, and save our sad solace for later, alright?"
Donoph nodded, hands gripping tightly on the large grey sword he held.
"Let's do this."
------------
"My daughter will take care of you." the recording continued. "Don't cause any problems, old man." Old man. What cruel irony that such childhood friends were now talking to each other as "old men"... Flowen smiled a bit, not regretting his youth. It would do him no good. "You are her favorite - Ever since she was a small child, I'd imagine.", he spoke again, remembering Alicia, and her cold, cold stare as he first saw her. He almost shuddered, but smiled, staring up into the sky. "I hope you are doing well..." he said, in a voice inaudible to the recorder.
-------------
The fires gagged as Heath and Donoph poured the water over them, looking in horror at the mangled and burned bodies of the people within the cellar.
Refugees. There had been no secret base here.
No base. Just refugees. Just civilians. Just innocent people.
Flowen's mind was flooded with a stream of thoughts, all linking back to one pregressor - The minute he'd nodded at Donoph, pulled out the grenade and thrown it down there. He expected to cause enough chaos to kill the military personell in what was supposed to be a "secret base" - But... But this - this was no secret base.
Flowen's armor was stained with the blood of the innocent. He knew it would come; someday... He knew that eventually, as in all wars, a civilian would die by his hand. But he had never imagined it would happen this way.
Something grabbed his leg. Looking down to the cold, and now wet stone floor, he saw a hand gripping his ankle. Someone was alive!
And yet, as he turned and looked, he saw only the barrel of a handgun pointed up at him. The man on the floor was missing half of his face, it appeared, and his wounds appeared to have been fused shut by the water extinguishing the flame - but his left leg was gone, and no matter now, he would die soon anyway. The man whispered only two words.
"I'm... sorry."
The bullet shot out of the gun, and struck the skull straight between the forehead. Flowen looked down, expecting to find himself dead - but saw that Donoph had shot the man, and not vice versa. The man's handgun fell onto the floor.
"Donoph... they're... they're all..."
"I know."
Donoph started walking back up the stairs. "More bad intel. First the incident with the 3 nations meeting, and then this. They were just local families trying to survive..."
Flowen began walking up as well, no tears flowing from his face or Donoph's. They had emotions, of course- and they were very compassionate - But they were also warriors. Soldiers. And soldiers did not have time for tears of remorse.
He slipped on the third stair up, catching himself as he did; but he heard something - from within the small cellar, now glowing with the embers of extinguished fires, he thought he heard something - what was that? A scrape of a boot, perhaps? A body just now dying? Or was it alive?
He didn't stand back up. Instead, he froze in place, not moving, his eyes skimming the room as his brown hair attempted to push itself into his vision.
Suddenly, a whimper. And then, after a few more moments, crying.
He leapt from the stairs, saber drawn, and charged towards the corner of the room. Two small, flimsy walls barred his entrance, and he slashed once, then twice, the walls falling apart like butter.
And there, sitting in the corner, crying; sobbing now, was the girl.
He dropped the saber to the ground, and drew his Sword from his back. It's crystal clear blade was omniscient amongst the flames, and it's tip was held steady.
He had to kill her. It was the simple order of operations. Suddenly, from above, a voice - "Hey, Heath, you coming? We've got more enemies from the central towers - and I think they have some hunters with them! Get up here, fast!"
The girl heard the voice, and continued crying. Heath looked at her; noticed the poverty in which she lived. The rips and tears in her dress, symbolic of the clothes her family couldn't afford to buy. The blackened skin around her face, arms, and hands.. Smybolic of the dirt and ash in which she slept. And the blood pouring out of her arm; moreover, the emotion pouring out of her soul - He couldn't bear it.
Better to end it now, he thought. Better to make it so she doesn't have to suffer. He held his sword sideways, preparing for an easy, clean sweep - but then, something stopped him.
Looking down, she looked up - and they locked gazes.
Her eyes- her eyes, filled with sadness, hate, anger and love all mixed into one - they looked back, and for that moment - that one, fleeting moment, he stopped.
"I pity you.", those eyes seemed to say. "I pity you for what you have to do. For those men you have to obey. For the lives you have to take. And now you must take mine." She was saying nothing, but her eyes seemed to be doing all the talking - and suddenly, as she blinked once, he found himself free from the apparent spell.
His sword fell to the ground,disengaging, and he picked up the handle quickly, sheathing it on his back. He walked forward, picked up the girl with both hands, and walked slowly out of the building.
-----------
- End of Part 1 -
With that, I hope you enjoy...
Leavin' Flow
Part 1
Heathcliff adjusted the recorder pitch, glanced up at the sun, and began speaking into the machine.
"I know who is watching this..." He began, swallowing a cough. His sickness as of late was apparently not ready to leave just yet. "I decided to leave a little ahead of you.", he spoke again. His voice starting to brighten from it's normal mellow tone.
"It's sad that we can't see each other, but I don't want to tempt fate..." He continued, a hint of sadness creeping slowly into the very air he breathed. He looked around, examining the green leaves swaying among the branches, the sunlight casting shadows and soft rays down upon the land. Ragol was immersed in brightness.
"It's very peaceful here" he said, almost without thinking - almost as if the words had been spoken by a friend who had not spoken in many years. But surely, that was nonsense. There was too great a gap for... ... "It's boring because it's too peaceful.", he laughed. "Donoph..." His voice softened. "This is not the place for you. Especially, for you! Ha ha ha..."
The soft laugh brought back memories. Memories of violence and war, but memories which he was not afraid to remember.
----------
Donoph's sword found it's mark, and three enemy officers fell to the ground. Bullet's shot past Donoph's head, but Two answering shots from somewhere behind him hit the would be - attacker before he could find his mark. Flowen ran past him, his brown hair glowing in the fires and cloud blackened sky around them.
"More of them, behind that building." He said quickly, pointing to what was now a heap of rubble burning softly amidst a sea of chaos. Donoph and Flowen ran forward and split, Donoph going right and Flowen taking the left.
The leftover survivors of the military were far too weak to stop them. Two photon swings and a bullet later, Flowen and Donoph opened the door to the cellar slowly, listening to the echoing creak as the dim light illumintated the stairway.
"Down there. This is it." Flowen grasped his sword tightly, as did Donoph, and the two looked at each other.
"We've been fighting alongside each other for over a year..." Donoph said. "I regard you as my best friend, and my most trusted ally. No matter what happens down here, Flowen, It has been my honor to fight with you."
Flowen grinned, his usual optimistic self showing again, even in the middle of war. "The same to you, Donoph. I would be no military "hero" were you not here - you've saved me countless times, and for that I owe you my life. But for now, let's take care of this, and save our sad solace for later, alright?"
Donoph nodded, hands gripping tightly on the large grey sword he held.
"Let's do this."
------------
"My daughter will take care of you." the recording continued. "Don't cause any problems, old man." Old man. What cruel irony that such childhood friends were now talking to each other as "old men"... Flowen smiled a bit, not regretting his youth. It would do him no good. "You are her favorite - Ever since she was a small child, I'd imagine.", he spoke again, remembering Alicia, and her cold, cold stare as he first saw her. He almost shuddered, but smiled, staring up into the sky. "I hope you are doing well..." he said, in a voice inaudible to the recorder.
-------------
The fires gagged as Heath and Donoph poured the water over them, looking in horror at the mangled and burned bodies of the people within the cellar.
Refugees. There had been no secret base here.
No base. Just refugees. Just civilians. Just innocent people.
Flowen's mind was flooded with a stream of thoughts, all linking back to one pregressor - The minute he'd nodded at Donoph, pulled out the grenade and thrown it down there. He expected to cause enough chaos to kill the military personell in what was supposed to be a "secret base" - But... But this - this was no secret base.
Flowen's armor was stained with the blood of the innocent. He knew it would come; someday... He knew that eventually, as in all wars, a civilian would die by his hand. But he had never imagined it would happen this way.
Something grabbed his leg. Looking down to the cold, and now wet stone floor, he saw a hand gripping his ankle. Someone was alive!
And yet, as he turned and looked, he saw only the barrel of a handgun pointed up at him. The man on the floor was missing half of his face, it appeared, and his wounds appeared to have been fused shut by the water extinguishing the flame - but his left leg was gone, and no matter now, he would die soon anyway. The man whispered only two words.
"I'm... sorry."
The bullet shot out of the gun, and struck the skull straight between the forehead. Flowen looked down, expecting to find himself dead - but saw that Donoph had shot the man, and not vice versa. The man's handgun fell onto the floor.
"Donoph... they're... they're all..."
"I know."
Donoph started walking back up the stairs. "More bad intel. First the incident with the 3 nations meeting, and then this. They were just local families trying to survive..."
Flowen began walking up as well, no tears flowing from his face or Donoph's. They had emotions, of course- and they were very compassionate - But they were also warriors. Soldiers. And soldiers did not have time for tears of remorse.
He slipped on the third stair up, catching himself as he did; but he heard something - from within the small cellar, now glowing with the embers of extinguished fires, he thought he heard something - what was that? A scrape of a boot, perhaps? A body just now dying? Or was it alive?
He didn't stand back up. Instead, he froze in place, not moving, his eyes skimming the room as his brown hair attempted to push itself into his vision.
Suddenly, a whimper. And then, after a few more moments, crying.
He leapt from the stairs, saber drawn, and charged towards the corner of the room. Two small, flimsy walls barred his entrance, and he slashed once, then twice, the walls falling apart like butter.
And there, sitting in the corner, crying; sobbing now, was the girl.
He dropped the saber to the ground, and drew his Sword from his back. It's crystal clear blade was omniscient amongst the flames, and it's tip was held steady.
He had to kill her. It was the simple order of operations. Suddenly, from above, a voice - "Hey, Heath, you coming? We've got more enemies from the central towers - and I think they have some hunters with them! Get up here, fast!"
The girl heard the voice, and continued crying. Heath looked at her; noticed the poverty in which she lived. The rips and tears in her dress, symbolic of the clothes her family couldn't afford to buy. The blackened skin around her face, arms, and hands.. Smybolic of the dirt and ash in which she slept. And the blood pouring out of her arm; moreover, the emotion pouring out of her soul - He couldn't bear it.
Better to end it now, he thought. Better to make it so she doesn't have to suffer. He held his sword sideways, preparing for an easy, clean sweep - but then, something stopped him.
Looking down, she looked up - and they locked gazes.
Her eyes- her eyes, filled with sadness, hate, anger and love all mixed into one - they looked back, and for that moment - that one, fleeting moment, he stopped.
"I pity you.", those eyes seemed to say. "I pity you for what you have to do. For those men you have to obey. For the lives you have to take. And now you must take mine." She was saying nothing, but her eyes seemed to be doing all the talking - and suddenly, as she blinked once, he found himself free from the apparent spell.
His sword fell to the ground,disengaging, and he picked up the handle quickly, sheathing it on his back. He walked forward, picked up the girl with both hands, and walked slowly out of the building.
-----------
- End of Part 1 -