In Progress The Tower of Scyclical Times: Eight Legends, One Destiny (Rated PG 15+)

[DonKarasuMan]

Before SPPf-goers pounce on me, do not worry, I have gotten permission from Yonowaru in Chaos (who happens to be me, coincidentally...hehe) to post this here, just to see if I can arouse an audience, and more importantly, a proper reviewer. I won't post a link to it, because I don't want to apply to your lazy nature and see the endings by yourselves. But if you insist, you can create an SPPf account (refer to Yonowaru in Chaos, *nudge,nudge*) and comment it there. Most of the time, it should be an active thread.

This Fic is rated PG 15+, for a little bit of everything. Not very much violence, but my writing is perverted anyway >.>

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: THIS FIC CONTAINS A FAKE REGION, AND "FAKEMON", WHICH THE PLOT CLAIMS TO BE PART OF THE POKEMON FRANCHISE. HOWEVER, I DO NOT OWN POKEMON OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS THAT BELONG TO ITS FRANCHISE.

Here are the contents:

Prologue: Metamorphosis
Prologue I: Invitation of a Crazed Moon Status: Completed, Published
Prologue II: Pitch Black Intrusion Status: Completed, Published
Prologue III: (technically it's two parts, but whatever) Status: Pending

And a PM List:

bobandbill

Without further ado, I think I should start.

Prologue: Metamorphosis 変容

Invitation of a Crazed Moon 狂月の招き

Silently, and violently, the Tempest took off to the skies, leaving the burning ruins of the Slateport aerodrome far behind it. Poseidon clad in black could do little to ease the firestorm as he desperately clashed with the stormed rocks separating concrete and sea, while the Tempest left to converge with its greater self. Before long, the ocean’s attempts were abandoned, and the Tempest embraced the dark clouds of tribulation, leaving nothing but violent tailwinds and a world in crisis in its wake. Prompted by a distant explosion, the Tempest smiled and continued, undisturbed, past the clouds and towards the blue crazed moon.

***

‘In man’s darkest hour, the forces revolted; a crystal of pessimism in the sky, pushing mankind over the brink, into chaos, into ruin. War plunged mankind in to a deplorable state of fear and paranoia, feeding on the sorrowful souls of the fortunate and succeeding where its path runs across fields of terror and agony. Destruction spread across the land, the lands ruled by foolish kings, and life was all but a different shade of moonlight.

‘Life...an oh-so-fragile creature. Under countless moons, emotion grew and became its most powerful weapon, yet its most destined flaw. Intelligence was a gift granted to few, and it too, became a weapon, but as to so cruelly exploit emotion. Thus, chaos, ruin, fear, paranoia, destruction, war and war again. Emotion, or intelligence? There is no competition, for both inevitably lead the race to suicide.’

‘That is your definition?’

‘More or less; also a brief history, I can say. Record it down.’

‘Despite any flaws?’

‘Yet it is the furthest we have come to.’

‘Yet your definition defeats both emotion and intelligence. The flaw lies in the fact that we ourselves classify as intelligence.’

‘But do we classify ourselves as life?’

‘...’

‘Precisely. We are neither living nor dead, yet we attain intelligence. It is a mystery, but not one that cannot be solved. To avenge our dismissal, we must solve the accounts of the ancients.’

‘But why are we making sense from the writings of ancient fools?’

‘They were no fools. The original intellectuals truly were innocent and knew to separate emotion from intelligence. Yet as time passed on, their pure souls were purged by new ideologies. These writings are the only relics of a time when purity reigned.’

‘We may need to redefine “purity”.’

‘Indeed we will. Let me think for a moment.’

‘...’

‘Eh?’

‘Should we pity these men?’

‘Never, they are far from the pure ancient civilisations that they once were.’

‘Should the Earth be purged of these fools, then?’

‘Soon. But why waste so much energy in purging a planet awaiting tribulation?’

‘I see you have this all planned.’

‘While they are blissfully unaware of the greater order of things.’

‘Undeniably, but we will need Divuna’s help. Where has Divuna gone?’

‘Divuna’s gone off with the girl again.’

‘How very lazy of Divuna.’

‘I will personally see to Divuna’s punishment if Divuna fails to make a noteworthy contribution to this.’

‘I certainly hope for Divuna's priorities, for our sake.’

‘Bah with hope. Hurry up, I have come up with a definition.’

‘Let me hear it.’

‘Emotion and intelligence, given as an unconditional gift to mankind, yet in selfish quantities, are the ones that amount to his very own demise. When mankind discovered curiosity, emotion and intelligence became intertwined and purity was lost. Purity lay in the separation of emotion and intelligence, and curiosity was the bane that filled its chasms, bridging the two.

‘Thus, purity was lost and men became fools; passionate intellects and sadistic conspirators, adopting new morals and misinterpreting the old. Those who remained clever yet heartless, devoted yet idiotic, were far from the closest to become pure, for there never was a plateau across the chasm, there was never a chasm, just a cliff opposite a sea of curiosity.’

‘I will need to think that through.’

‘Take your time.’

‘Are you sure that Curiosity was the factor to overtake Purity?’

‘Yes. Are you sceptical?’

‘I am unsure. I do not think it wrong, but I’m not sure about its echelon of influence that it is able to fill the chasm. I think other factors may have contributed to the filling of the chasm.’

‘You may be correct, but let's think this through later. We will need some rest.’

‘Perhaps...’

‘You remain obsessive.’

‘Thinking while the idea remains fresh.’

‘Fine. I shall attend to Divuna’s absence.

‘Very well.’

And seeing the gifted men in crisis, the crazed moon grinned.

 

[bobandbill]

Hello, fellow sppf-goer! I too frequent that site, but I much prefer following fics slowly and gradually. Seeing as you posted here and I've gained a bit of spare time, I've decided to take a look, and then review as well. :) (Heh, and you're Australian too! :D)

Anyways, I do have to say that this prologue was... well, interesting. Nice, vivid description when it's purposefully used, and quite the unusual set-up here. To say the least. Quite a lot veiled in mystery here - opting to, for instance, not describe the two speakers was an interesting choice, and certainly made me curious on who they were and what they looked like. You did well in 'no-describing' them, in other words. :)

I will say however, that it did seem a bit too veiled, this prologue... a bit has left me confused as to what has really happened, what's being discussed, and also a tad on what the 'crazed moon' has to do with it all... maybe because I'm a bit tired, but IMO it is a tad overdone, even if it is purposeful. But hopefully it'll make more sense as the fic continues. :)

‘In man’s darkest hour, darkness revolted; a crystal of pessimism in the sky, pushing mankind over the brink, in to chaos, in to ruin. War plunged mankind in to a deplorable state of fear and paranoia,

Firstly, you tended to repeat things occassionally - here's a nitpicky example of it, 'man's darkest hour, drakness revolted' - it does feel a bit repetitive is all, and maybe another word in place of one of them would help?
Also three 'in to's' there, but that seems more for effect, the repetition there, and nothing wrong with that this time - but shouldn't they all be 'into' - as one world? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's the far more common way of using that word/those words...

‘Undeniably, but we will need Divuna’s help. Where has Divuna gone?’

‘Divuna’s gone off with the girl again.’

‘How very lazy of Divuna.’

‘I will personally see to Divuna’s punishment if Divuna fails to make a noteworthy contribution to this.’

‘I certainly hope for Divuna's priorities, for our sake.’

This Divuna is one of the things I'm hoping to learn more about in future chapters... but it seems that the two speakers suddenly developed a fetish of saying her/his(/it's?) name all of a sudden - 5 times in 5 short lines really is a bit of overkill there, and kinda jumped out of the otherwise well-paced scene.

And seeing the gifted men in crisis, the crazed moon grinned.

...Three days? *shot*

It certainly is interesting, though, and is well written to boot. Although I did find it a little confusing thus far, I am interested to find out more and see how this develops with such an original beginning, so I shall keep my eye on this. :)

 

[DonKarasuMan]

Hello, fellow sppf-goer! I too frequent that site, but I much prefer following fics slowly and gradually. Seeing as you posted here and I've gained a bit of spare time, I've decided to take a look, and then review as well. :) (Heh, and you're Australian too! :D)

Yay, I got a review =D heh, I get ecstatic whenever I get a review *slowly recovers*

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to review!

I will say however, that it did seem a bit too veiled, this prologue... a bit has left me confused as to what has really happened, what's being discussed, and also a tad on what the 'crazed moon' has to do with it all... maybe because I'm a bit tired, but IMO it is a tad overdone, even if it is purposeful. But hopefully it'll make more sense as the fic continues. :)

I do agree with you; I think I'm over-complicating this fic, especially when the first chapter has eight separate parts in it (they gradually converge but the beginning is, admittedly, rather confusing to piece together).

That said, I'm not even sure if this made a good prologue; seeing as events here don't come in to fruition until a bit later on.

Firstly, you tended to repeat things occassionally - here's a nitpicky example of it, 'man's darkest hour, drakness revolted' - it does feel a bit repetitive is all, and maybe another word in place of one of them would help?

Hmm...that is a problem, I should fix that (and on the SPPf one as well xD).

Also three 'in to's' there, but that seems more for effect, the repetition there, and nothing wrong with that this time - but shouldn't they all be 'into' - as one world? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's the far more common way of using that word/those words...

I wasn't sure about that, because I skimmed over the Simple Grammar section here and the Advice for Aspiring Authors on SPPf and it didn't come up so I left it like that. I'll fix that.

This Divuna is one of the things I'm hoping to learn more about in future chapters... but it seems that the two speakers suddenly developed a fetish of saying her/his(/it's?) name all of a sudden - 5 times in 5 short lines really is a bit of overkill there, and kinda jumped out of the otherwise well-paced scene.

He's genderless, and I couldn't find satisfaction as naming Divuna as an 'it'. I really wondered what I could do with that bit.

...Three days? *shot*

Huh, what's that?

It certainly is interesting, though, and is well written to boot. Although I did find it a little confusing thus far, I am interested to find out more and see how this develops with such an original beginning, so I shall keep my eye on this. :)

Thanks, I'll save you the task of asking and slap you on the PM List.

 

[DonKarasuMan]

Prologue Part 2. Oh, now I remember how I disappointed I was with this one...I can't handle so much speech and description in moderation...

Pitch Black Intrusion 漆黒の進攻

‘Excellent work, lieutenants! Promotions, say you, Rahabian?’

The darkness was filled by happiness, manifested by a nocturne that was laughter. Undisturbed, a thin ray of light shone down from the abyssal ceiling, touched by the infringing darkness and displaying a man, seated comfortably, legs crossed, in a white leather recliner. He was dressed in a white long-sleeved uniform adorned with a cold geometric pattern that embellished an S-shape on his front, the collar scraping gently below his rather gaunt jaw. He was unperturbed by the laughter while the rigid moon-pale icicles that made up his hairline remained as docilely still.

‘Whatever you wish, master,’ the man responded with a crisp voice that pierced the air, ‘but I daresay Xiphacto would like to add her own personal assertion.’

A second thin light displayed an elegant woman in an identical leather recliner, except azure in colour and tilted further back conventionally with the woman’s curved posture. Her uniform had largely the same scheme as Rahabian’s; the only exception was that it was adorned with a pattern invocative of deadly beauty in royal blue. Her aquamarine curls and gargoyles surrounding a trumpet-like main piece cast a heavy shadow over her dignified face, yet she held her head up high, as if oblivious to its mass and weight. When she spoke, her voice had such lustre that it ostensibly shattered the unsuspecting darkness.

‘On the contrary, Rahabian, I have nothing commendable enough to change master’s initial decision’, she said, ‘but why not hand over our decisions to Rycuda? New blood always needs a bit of confidence and self esteem to mix with the old, after all.’

A third light has always been there to complete the triangle, but only could one put effort in to notice it, could it be apparent. The light’s subject was a youthful man, barely passed adolescence, with his lengthy electric blonde hair struck to a side like a bolt of lightning, slightly crested at the end.

His reaction at being asked his personal opinion was quite noticeable; despite the bleak view, his eyes were wide in surprise and lethologica. He took a while to recover, like a sleeping person forced to wake up three minutes from their intended wake-up time, and he fumbled around in his storm grey recliner, before he spoke. When he did, it was far from collected.

‘Well...since the Tempest is so big...why don’t we split it up among the four of us...? And...and the rest can go to the rest of Solarstorm’s sectors...I mean...we don’t need that big a ship for secrecy, do we?’

Despite it being rather simple, the idea took a rather long time for Rycuda to convey, and, as if the others were hoping for clarification, a silence fell after his speech. It may have been bewilderment, but it was largely obvious to everyone that the idea was merely something that would cause one to massage their forehead with their palm; anyone who met the CEO would know that he would rather spoil his own top-notch department, than share such a valuable asset to the lower ranks. Certainly, Rahabian and Xiphacto’s face told dearly how they had wanted a fair share of the ship, but they had never had the uncommon sense to ask for it. To salvage back a selfless reputation that Rahabian might never have lost, he replied.

‘The four of us? I think it is clear that your intentions have only been directed at your own desires, am I correct in saying so?’

‘Of course not, Rahabian! I just doubt we need anymore extra commodities...’

‘It is not up to you to doubt, Rycuda,’ Xiphacto refuted, yet still maintaining her aural and visual beauty that had everything to do with her reply, ‘doubt is for the unable and for the sceptically arrogant. If...’

‘Look, look, look...it was just an honest question,’ Rycuda said before Xiphacto could further her opinion, ‘if its not going to happen...then just forget about what I said.’

Neither Rahabian, nor Xiphacto made any further inquiry, not that Rycuda wanted them to do so. Instead, the bodiless voice of the CEO replied with casual confidence.

‘I see no problem with Rycuda’s proposal. Very well, when my personal assessors of the ship have finished with their inspection, I shall grant you three equal usage shares of the Tempest. How about, say, 20% each?’

No one replied.

‘Very well then! Persephone, are you getting all of this down? I want a report on the allotment of the Tempest submitted to my desk before midnight seven days from now.’

The three administrators were bewildered, Rycuda having a small sense of pride and self-accomplishment behind his grin, the other two both having their own typical variations of ‘Y-yes, master, thank you master,’ while a distant tapping of long manicured fingernails on a keyboard rattled in the background.

‘No need, no need, the two of you have served me well in these past three years since your promotions, and I believe young Rycuda here should have no problem following in your footsteps.’

‘Indeed, sir...Xiphacto and I will take care of Rycuda.’

‘Very well, meeting dismissed.’

Rycuda was the first to stand up; his proud smile still evident across his face. But as he stood up, the ground shook violently, the already dim lights blacked out, the ever-threatening darkness took over, and a siren began to sound. Rycuda immediately sat back down, not by nature, but by impulse when something cold and razor-sharp touched his warm throat. A hollow, yet slightly comical, voice rattled softly in his ear.

‘You talk...I cut.’

Rycuda could not hear anything else afterwards, but the distant repeated siren of ‘CODE RED: Sector 6:16 to Sector 6:86 breached.’ Otherwise, it was as quiet as frozen time, his life hanging on to a silence most eerie, a silence that even the siren eventually diverged into. How long he stood there, legs frozen, yet shaking, he did not know, but when he tried to move, another blade parallel to the first touched his throat, pressing deeper into his flesh. Rycuda’s throat must’ve already been bleeding now; his heart was racing, and he could smell it. He heard his keeper sniff deeply and before the sniff exhaled, Rycuda fainted.

***

He was gagged, his limbs were bound, his eyes were blindfolded, but Rycuda had a nagging sensation that someone had fiddled with his hair. Until he fully succumbed to chloroform, he could still hear the voices of his captors with varying degrees of seriousness.

‘What to do?’

‘Leave them here. Me and you and him and him and him and him and him and him would do that if we were you.’

‘Smarticles! Yes, let’s!’

‘Hurry, we haven’t even got to the lathering yet.’

‘I’m hurrying...but its so hard to tie people up when you have in-grown claws!’

‘Be careful with her boobies...’

‘Wait...where’s the loot?’

‘We free, not loot.’

‘Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine...’

‘Gah! I broke a nail...’

‘Don’t tell me how you managed that.’

The voices became fainter.

‘This alarm’s broken...it keeps on repeating the same thing!’

‘I wonder why...’

‘Have you tried algorithms?’

‘Hmm...no...’

And fainter.

‘Hurry! Godspeed!’

‘Or as we say it in our language...’

Until the chloroform took over.

‘It’s so hard to negotiate with yourself...’

 

[bobandbill]

Ok, time to review now.

This was IMO better than the first one. Although you maintained a level of mystery and all, this time it felt a much better level - I wasn't confused by anything, just left in the dark about things, which is good. :) The description in this scene as well I have to say is simply brillant - you have quite the skill with it, and left me a bit envious. =P I quite liked the description, and although the dialogue wasn't amazing, it was decent too. Very well set up, the characters with it, and I liked the plot development and all, especially the events in the latter part of the... second prologue. Heh.

Now for quotes!

Promotions, say you, Rahabian?’

Feels like an odd way to say that, IMO... a tad uncomfortable, even if I can see it being said like that. Maybe slight rewording?

‘Well...since the Tempest is so big...why don’t we split it up among the four of us...?

‘The three of us? I think it is clear that your intentions have only been directed at your own desires, am I correct in saying so?’

So which is it - four including the CEO or three?

Very well, when my personal assessors of the ship have finished with their inspection, I shall grant you three equal usage shares of the Tempest, say, how about 20% each?’

Another bit of somewhat uncomfortable dialogue - suggest '...shares of the Tempest. How about, say, 20% each?' - feels a more natural and less jerky way of speaking, IMO.

I want a report on the allotment of the Tempest submitted to my desk before midnight seven days from now. ’

Extra space in-between the full stop and quotation mark that isn't needed. ;)

‘Very well, meeting dismissed.”

Here a different quotation mark seemingly used at the end...

a silence that even the siren eventually diverged in to. How long he stood there, legs frozen, yet shaking, he did not know, but when he tried to move, another blade parallel to the first touched his throat, while both blades pressed deeper in to his flesh. Rycuda’s throat must’ve already been bleeding now, his heart was racing, and he could smell it.

Second sentence there feels a bit uncomfortable in terms of pacing - maybe use a new sentence in the first red bolded part, changing comma to full stop and Capital h for he? Or something else...
Two more 'in to's' to change into...well, 'into', and the second red comma IMO will work better as a semi-colon for a longer pause there.
And that is all. Overall very good though - very intriguing. Looking even more forward to more now. :)

 

[DonKarasuMan]

x_x

So many mistakes.

And I'm really starting to hate these quotation marks x_x

Better re-re-proof-read!

Thank you for the review, again, I really need to talk with more people to know how people usually talk, xD

*fixes*

EDIT:

How long he stood there, legs frozen, yet shaking, he did not know, but when he tried to move, another blade parallel to the first touched his throat, while both blades pressed deeper in to his flesh.

I don't know, but I don't see anything wrong with this sentence at all...

Perhaps I can adjust it a little:

How long he stood there, legs frozen, yet shaking, he did not know, but when he tried to move, another blade parallel to the first touched his throat, pressing deeper in to his flesh.

I know I didn't split the sentence, so I just fixed a semi-awkward part. Sorry...

 

[DonKarasuMan]

Haven't been here for a while. x_x

Abandoned Castle ~Curse of Darkness~ 廃城 ～闇の呪印～


The reception room was quiet, yet spaciously large. A large translucent, clouded glass door framed with teak and adorned with a large ornate silver handle stood on the right of where the corridor extended to the lifts. Directly opposite the corridor, a fenced desk stood, open to the large door, and facing against the rest of the room. Behind the desk was a young woman, her violet hair kept fringed at her forehead and tied in to a ponytail at the end. Otherwise, she had the stereotypical look of a serious-looking office lady. The only exception was that Persephone, today, was dressed in a blossomy pink dress, which seemed unconventional for office requirements, but all the more to conform with the boss’ needs; office wear was, essentially, forbidden in this building.

Opposite Persephone’s desk, there were a few potted plants easy to overlook, and a large abstract painting taking up most of the wall. Flashes of white, blue and yellow dominated the picture, around a general shape of a whirl, yet there was too many a thing that made it look, briefly describing, chaotic. The frame of the painting was crafted from obsidian, so it gave a glassy feel, smooth to the touch. More potted plants were put next to the painting, on a small table, which was next to a large white leather sofa that occupied the entire wall from the painting to the corridor. An empty wooden coffee table stood in front of the sofa. It was not very large, so it allowed guests to examine the painting without banging their shins on the coffee table.

Footsteps sounded from the corridor. A casual listener would mistake it for stilettos but it was merely the echoing that hard-soled shoes created when entering the spacious reception room. Rahabian, in the same attire he had worn since the intrusion last week, was clutching a letter in his left hand, walking towards the receptionist’s desk.

‘I would like to see Mr. Strorm,’ he said, not any softer as had been from the night of intrusion.

At this moment, Persephone would have given a chuckle that she would’ve tried to hold back as she saw Rahabian’s ravaged hair, but the joke had grown so old since the intrusion that she only gave a tiny smirk.

‘Just a moment, Mr. Rahabian,’ she said in a pseudo-polite tone. She pressed and held the Intercom button on the phone. ‘Mr. Strorm, Mr. Rahabian is here and would like to see you.’

‘I would like to see no one today,’ a tired voice from the Intercom replied, ‘tell him to read the letter out loud.’

Persephone shifted her glance to the letter Rahabian held in his hand, and then to Rahabian, who turned to the letter he held. He opened it, unfolded it and began to read the contents out loud.

‘Dear Mr. Strorm,

It has come to our attention that your organization is in need of some external help since the recent major theft that took place at one of your bases in Titlan Marsh City. Due to insider reports from within your organization, we have come to notice that your objectives are all-but-none, and it is clear that you currently have no projects or operations taking place that are of any use to you. However, our knowledge of your organization’s projects and objectives is not the focus of our letter, nor is it any business for us to be scrupulous about.

Instead, we realise that your organization has employed a veritable cornucopia of gifted employees, which would be a tragic waste if they all became unemployed due to your organization’s lack of funding of research and a lack of resources (yes, we know). Before your organization’s inevitable disbanding, we request that we be able to acquire Solarstorm, including most of your shares and assets for-’ (Rahabian stated a sum that made the voice behind the Intercom cough and splutter) ‘We realise that you may require some thought over this request. If you reply with an agreement statement within one week, we shall include details of terms and conditions within our next letter.

All the best,

Destrague’​

Rahabian stopped, but Persephone did not let go of the Intercom button. The voice behind the Intercom muttered something inaudible and slammed the table a few times. After some considerable slamming and a breaking of glass and china, Persephone let go of the button and dismissed Rahabian. He refitted the letter inside the envelope, stowing it inside his pocket, and left without saying a word.

***

It was one of those times of boredom and liberty, an odd time, especially for one of the supposedly busiest secretaries in the building. Persephone sat at her desk, legs crossed and carefully yet casually filing her rainbow assortment of nails while occasionally staring at her computer screen, which displayed the shadows of bouncing cards displaying an umpteenth defeat at Solitaire. Before long, the screen blackened and displayed the architecturally impossible system of multicolour pipes that equally impossibly assembled themselves out of thin air in no time, and this time, Persephone did not bother to budge her mouse.

The days since acquirement were basically this; sometimes, a few officials from Destrague would visit Mr. Strorm, but otherwise, there was nothing to work with. From the female toilets, which Persephone frequented to get her latest updates on gossip (and she had spent her time there more than she used to nowadays), she had gathered that the entire building was completely devoid of work. The report which she had written was the last time she ever had to work overtime (procrastination got the better of her), but gathering from that, Destrague had probably let Solarstorm keep their stolen ship.

The phone rang, and unexcitedly, Persephone picked it up.

‘Mr. Strorm’s office, this is Persephone speaking, how can I help you?’

Even her tone had subdued under boredom, though that did not hinder the lightning-fast response that secretaries were trained to answer the phone with.

‘Good afternoon, this is Lydie Erlanger, Mr. Strorm’s real estate agent. Can I speak with Mr. Strorm?’

‘If this is about the selling of the Chateau Borealis, then Mr. Strorm is already on his way to meet the buyers.’

‘That’s the thing; the meeting has been cancelled. I’ve come to inform Mr. Strorm that the buyers passed away this morning.’

‘Oh, I’ll contact Mr. Strorm then.’

‘Thank you, have a nice day.’

‘You too, Ms. Erlanger.’

Persephone put the phone back on the receiver and rearranged her posture so that she looked more professional. She dialled a number on the phone and waited.

…

…

…

‘The number you have dialled was incomplete or incorrect. Please check the number and dial again.’

Confused, Persephone pressed the End Call button and dialled again, slowly this time. The automatic operator repeated the same message, prompting Persephone to put the phone down again. Surely, after five years of dedicated service to Mr. Strorm would have been enough for her to commit his phone number to memory? she thought. After considering her options, she decided that meeting up with the boss at the chateau to inform him was the best course of action.

***

Mr. Strorm glanced at his gold wristwatch for quite some time; since his arrival at half-past-three to now, five-past-four.

‘They’re late.’

Figuring he’d might as well enjoy the last moments and relive his memories with his chateau, Mr. Strorm strolled across the Reception Hall, where at the peak of his wealth and happiness, guests in their aristocratic fashion had gathered to attend his gatherings and balls. Newly refurbished as it may have been, the walls of the Hall looked old and dreary when sunlight filtered through the windows had denied them of the shade. Even Mr. Strorm's wilted hair, combed back, seemed especially aged under the filtered sunlight, appearing wispy and fragile. Mr. Strorm strolled up the grand staircase, and opened the tall doors with an effort that exhausted his aged bulk. He could only open one of the doors, but it was enough to let him enter.

The Dance Hall was a magnificent ballroom; the tall domed glass ceiling surrounding the glamorous bulk of a golden chandelier, supported by suspension chains that added to the decorative ambience of the ballroom. It had been quite some time since the Dance Hall was refurbished, or cleaned, and it had finally seemed to have taken its toll, for a few Murkrow had managed to find their way in to the Hall and nestle in to the great confines of the chandelier. They were all asleep, now, keeping away from where the sunlight shined through the ceiling and sleeping in the shadows of the tower that the Keep of the chateau stood upon.

Mr. Strorm continued his way, out the Dance Hall and in to a balcony, which led down in to the enormous expanse of the Gardens. The Pokemon there had been tutored to manage the garden, but to Mr. Strorm’s surprise, he found it overgrown and a few foreign Pokemon had found their way in.

‘Pesky weeds.’

He found a small-sized Shroomish; a little golden dome with a casually designed face splotched onto its front; and approached it from behind. The Shroomish, whatever it was doing, noticed the hulking shadow of Mr. Strorm that approached him from behind, but before it was able to turn and face him, he had met with the sole of his Italian shoes and became nothing more than a mustard splat of squashed fungi. Mr. Strorm found a nearby rock and hastily rubbed his stained shoe on it, before meandering deeper in to the garden.

‘That wasn’t very nice.’

‘Who is it?’ sounded Mr. Strorm in response to the voice. He had become all too accustomed with surprises; the girlfriends that Mr. Strorm cycled through in his youth had all the more contributed to his adaptation to surprise attacks that temporarily blinded him and forced him to 'Guess who?'

‘I want to haunt this chateau.’

Slightly fearful now, Mr. Strorm interrupted his stroll and found his way in to one particularly sunlit patch of grass, where he disturbed a few exotic plants. The Vileplume; blue fairy-like stubs with enormous red fleshy petals that sprouted like helicopter rotors; were forced to retreat deeper among the undergrowth, while Mr. Strorm looked around his surroundings, expecting a shady looking person to come out of nowhere. He looked above the trees, expecting him to jump out of the trees, but it didn’t come.

‘I’ll be in the Keep.’

***

Relieved at escaping peak hour, Persephone stepped out of the taxi, noticing the 19th Century fountain that stood amongst the shade of red September maple trees. The taxi promptly drove off and Persephone entered a gravel-lined path indicated by a hedge way. She had no trouble navigating herself through the hedges, even with her high-heels against the gravel. She consulted her wristwatch. Five o’clock. She was terribly late and Mr. Strorm didn’t exactly wake up on the right side of bed this morning either...

The hedge path opened up to a clearing, where Persephone saw Mr. Strorm’s limousine parked (Mr. Strorm had an uncanny gift at off-road driving) on the grass, but what caught her eye even more was the towering chateau that stood, like a cathedral, casting shadows over the grass clearing and the maple trees around it. The clearing was entirely shadowed, either by the chateau or the trees, for it was late afternoon now. Persephone paced hurriedly across it, up the steps to the entrance of the chateau and through the enormous wooden doors, which were already open.

Disappointed at not finding Mr. Strorm in the Reception Hall, she proceeded through to the Dance Hall briskly. She continued along the path of open doors to find herself in the Garden. Sighing at the enormous expanse of the garden, she proceeded to nitpick the outskirts before attacking the undergrowth itself. Eventually, Persephone found herself opposite the balcony of the Dance Hall and she found yet another open balcony, this time leading to the Stairway that led to the upper levels of the chateau. The chateau, from her memory was seven stories tall, the Garden on the second story, with the Reception on the first. It would take up too much time searching the entire chateau, with five floors above her to search, as well as the towers and the Keep.

Grudgingly, Persephone made her way up to the third floor; the Guest House, where guests used to be able to stay overnight, as well as being able to play past-midnight adulterated chasing games. Thinking it irrational to search every single room in the chateau, Persephone hurried across the hallways, which encircled the shape of the garden. Persephone scanned for doors that were ajar, but after finding none, she proceeded to the fourth floor, the Servants’ Quarters. There were those, such as the gardener and a few maids and cleaners, that lived at the chateau, tending to its fight against disorder, but they had all left after Solarstorm’s acquirement. Persephone decided to skip this floor, for reasons relating to her image of Mr. Strorm as a person who thought the Servants’ Quarters rather trivial to be found in, so she headed for the fifth floor; the Gallery that kept some of Mr. Strorm’s finest antiquities. Destrague had confiscated most of them, but Mr. Strorm had instructed the servants to hide some of the more valuable ones, before Destrague had come.

When Persephone arrived at the Gallery, she found it empty, except for a few antiquities that remained attached to the chateau walls, namely, a giant clock face, adorned with different jewels and precious metals and still displaying the correct time (quarter-to-six), beautifully decorated stain-glass windows depicting portraits, battle scenes and artistic impressions of certain Pokemon and a few suits of armour. Some of the larger sculptures also had refused to budge, including a sculpture of a young naked man holding a newborn Spearow (which Persephone found hard to take her eyes off) embedded in to the marble wall, a memorial of a warrior riding a Girafarig and a gigantic chessboard with blocks of geometrically cut stone vaguely resembling humanoid shapes placed around it. Persephone had never been up here before, but she knew of all the contents in catalogue form.

The sixth floor was the library, where Persephone efficiently scanned. Though not finding Mr. Strorm, she was able to scan a book, ‘French Women Don’t Get Fat,’ poking out as if halfway through withdrawal. After discreetly stowing it in to her handbag, she continued. The seventh floor was basically made up of hallways that led to the different towers and the Keep that spurred off at different corners of the chateau. There were no walls that kept the seventh-floor-stroller from falling down in to the Garden below, instead, having an ornate bar that allowed casual onlookers to lean over it to catch a better glimpse of the garden. From here, it seemed to Persephone that the sky was unusually dark for half-past-six. The Keep and the eaves of the chateau kept Persephone from examining the sky further, so Persephone ignored it and continued on her search in the towers.

After dismissing Mr. Strorm’s absence in all three towers, Persephone proceeded up to the Keep, which led off at the centre of the seventh floor’s back wall. Persephone was braced for a long staircase that led up to the Keep; it was where Mr. Strorm slept and Persephone thought herself extremely stupid for not suggesting this place to search before. Her legs were sore from over an hour-and-a-half of trekking around the chateau in high-heels and even if Mr. Strorm wasn’t there, Persephone thought that it might have been a good idea to rest up in his comfortable King sized four-poster bed. That prospect kept her fuelled more than her wish to inform Mr. Strorm of the buyers’ deaths, and she nearly collapsed at the very top. Tired of them, Persephone discarded her shoes at the door and used the doorhandle to lift herself up.

Briefly composing herself, Persephone rearranged her hair, cleaned herself up and opened the door, leaving her shoes behind. Before she could take in the absolute velvetiness of the crimson furniture and bedding, the gigantic mirror that Mr. Strorm used to wake up to every morning, the balcony that gave a full hundred-and-eighty panoramic view of the entire peninsula up to the southern mountains, she faded.

‘No, we would *not* like any prostitutes.’

***

‘So where were we, Mr. Strorm?’

There was no answer outside of a muffled protest.

‘Ah yes, my proposal. The one where you get to live and we both reap the benef- don’t struggle! You’ll only make yourself more prone to attack than you are right now.

‘Now, I understand that you still have 20% worth of power over Solarstorm? Yes?’

The muffling gave a tone of agreement.

‘That is better than none. Convince Destrague to take part in the recovering of the experiments; that might make it easier. But then again, that might not be a good idea...hmm...let me think...

‘Make it secret...? No, no one can guarantee its secrecy... My, my, what a dilemma...might need to consult Exterra...not that he’s particularly wise...always the one setting the questions...

‘I’ve got it!’

The muffling seemingly woke up.

‘We’ll need...a tractor! Well, that’s the best I can come up with...say...we can ask this fine young lady here...’

The muffling renewed his protest.

‘No...that’ll make things more complicated than it is...’

‘Don’t scare the foolish, Divuna.’

‘What!? Oh, it’s you...great timing! I’ve got a dilemma here and I was wondering if you, out of all sentient beings, could help me solve it!’

‘Exterra and I have found a way; do not worry. But we may need more control over this Strorm than we already have. I’ll volunteer.’

‘What? Oh...fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. What do I do with this lady here?’

‘I’ll commit her under this Strorm person. She may know too much than she needs to, at any rate.’

‘Ooh...can we make this place our base on this planet?’

‘Why not. Fools today don’t recognise proper architectural beauty any more...’

‘That means we’re haunting this castle?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yay!’

‘Contact Exterra, tell him we’ve found a base and that Strorm is under our control.’

‘Why can’t you go? I want to explore this place...’

‘I can’t contact him if I am to attach myself to a human, let alone two.’

‘Ugh...fine...’

 

[bobandbill]

Yeah, I've been away from this forum too. Then there's the whole 'can't post' thing...

Anyways. Another entertaining read here. Again some nice description used, and also a nice atmosphere carried throughout it as well. Quite enjoyed it, although maybe a tad too much on the chateau itself... :/ Just seemed to slow the pace down a tad too much, that part. But I liked the opening scene (and Mr Strorm's reaction as well), and the last scene was kinda amusing too. And hurrah for plot advancement. Good level of suspense and mystery there; makes it all the more intriguing.

Anyways... how many more prologues are there? :P

Rahabian, in the same attire he had wore since the intrusion last week, was clutching a letter in his left hand, walking towards the receptionist’s desk.

IMO, 'worn' would fit better...

At this moment, Persephone would have gave a chuckle that she would’ve tried to hold back as she saw Rahabian’s ravaged hair, but the joke had grown so old since the intrusion that she only gave a tiny smirk.

First 'gave' also IMO works better as a 'given'.

including most of your shares and assets for-’ (Rahabian stated a sum that made the voice behind the Intercom cough and splutter) ‘We realise...

Think you may need a full stop after 'splutter)' there.

The voice behind the Intercom muttered something inaudible and slammed the table a few times. After some considerable slamming and a breaking of glass and china

'Slammed' and 'slamming' is a bit repetitive... maybe replace one.

He found a small-sized Shroomish; a little golden dome with a casually designed face splotched on to its front; and approached it from behind. The Shroomish, whatever it was doing, noticed the hulking shadow of Mr. Strorm that approached him from behind, but before it was able to turn and face him, he had met with the sole of his Italian shoes and became nothing more than a mustard splat of squashed fungi. Mr. Strorm found a nearby rock and hastily rubbed his stained shoe on it, before meandering deeper in to the garden.

THIS WAS WIN. Amusing and nice description here too (I liked the use of the word 'splotched' for some reason). However, 'on to' should be 'onto'.

where Persephone saw Mr. Strorm’s limousine parked (Mr. Strorm had an uncanny gift at off road driving) on the grass

Suggest 'off-road' there...

The chateau, from her memory was seven stories tall, the Garden on the second story, with the Reception on the first.

This feels a bit uncomfortable with the pauses made by the commas, IMO... maybe a re-organisation will improve this.

‘I’ve got it!’

The muffling seemingly woke up.

‘We’ll need...a tractor! Well, that’s the best I can come up with...say...we

More win. :) Amusing.
Good work once again - looking forward to more.

 

[DonKarasuMan]

Fixed most of those errors for now. Since I have nothing to do, I'll just post the next one (don't worry, that was the last prologue). And now, I present you, with Eight-part Chapter 1!

CHAPTER 1: Prelude プレリュード

Part I: The Place I’ll Return to Someday いつか帰るところ

The mustard sky bore an obvious sign of defeat, infested by cloudy storms of poison and lightning. Faintly, ever so faintly, the full moon was visible, but the night did not deter the wasteland from producing its own light. The land reflected despair; lifeless tracks of bygone history strewn across it like a gigantic board game. Scorched bones of ancient beasts towered in the midst of the landscape and a smoking volcano stood like a climax to the war-torn dunes. The forest, dead, formed a fringe of blackened pickets fencing around its inner depths, which was, for the most part, dominated by the dead. It was impossible to see far past the smog, but the city lights of Titlan Marsh City to the north were able to shine through tonight. A dwindling river wound through the badlands from the direction of the city. It was flowing slowly.

On the other side of the volcano, in the middle of the woods, a swamp lay in a cradle of putrid fairy lights, and while it was not as lifeless as the wasteland was, it was evident that it was home to the desperate and despicable. The surface bubbled, and a group of Grimer led by a Muk began to clamber out of the sludge, though it seemed only as if bulges of sludge had suddenly grown eyes and moved towards the edge of the water. They were large for their size, perhaps even double, and seemed to be heading for some decaying matter from a fallen tree by the bog’s edge. As they slid over the sludgy sediment, their weight crushed the skeletons of branches and sticks, their trails acidifying the matter into a flow that conformed with the mud in the swamp.

A figure sat on the fallen tree while the Grimer ate. By his general appearance it was only at least part human. His scaly skin was mud green, which blended quite marvellously with the bog water. His face was very reptilian and his snout was lined with several short fangs soaked with a blood red hue. The most human of his facial features were his eyes, which shone like blood rubies that squinted beneath a brow of serrated scales. He had two crests running parallel from the bridge of his snout to his lower back that merged together to form a ridged tail. In the middle of the crests there were three large volcano-like growths that seemed to smoke a haze reminiscent of the smoke issuing from the volcano nearby. He stood up and spoke in a rasping voice.

‘We have to go now.’

A voice answered his instruction. It too was rasping, but it echoed, giving the impression that it was unison of many different voices.

‘You can’t decide for all of us.’

The final sentence seemed to emanate from the depths of the bog, causing the feeding sludge-Pokemon to hastily leave their dining place and retreat into a neighbouring bog, fear stretched across their ugly faces.

‘We can’t stay here any longer. There is no point to decide.’

‘We will not leave our motherland. Surely, you know that.’

‘The war has turned this place into a **** hole, literally! You seriously can’t say that you want to stay here, right?’

‘You have a suggestion?’

‘There’s the Cavetec Systems to the north.’

‘We would be treading on another’s sacred ground.’

Frustrated, the reptile replied: ‘I do not want to stay here any longer! Can you not sense it? It is coming, from the depths of the Tiltlate Canyon! This swamp would be engulfed by its power.’

‘Then leave! If you cannot fend for your territory, the brotherhood does not require you anymore!’

‘You underestimate its power! You stand no chance against it! Besides, there is nothing to fend for. I propose a battle; I win, we leave. You win, we stay.’

‘Agreed.’

Four figures leapt out of the bog, leaving a trail of bog gas in the air, which seemed to ignite, leaving wisps of flame suspended in the air. Each of the four looked almost exactly identical, except for their tinge, and the array of features they had down their back.

The navy blue figure had boils over his back, which began to ooze a blue sludge as he jumped out. The sludge was reminiscent of thick blue acrylic paint without the smooth contours.

‘Toxicroak!’

The heliotrope figure had spikes down his back that began to singe the air as the figure leapt out. His trail left the most flames in his wake, which glowed iridescent neon blue.

‘Drapion!’

The third had a range of features down his back. He appeared much cleaner than the other four, and his scales were like rocks behind a cascade. His scales were ultramarine, and each of them was unusually elongated, compared to those of his brethren.

‘Tentecruel!’

The fourth looked as if he had sea urchins down his back, although instead of spikes, the urchin-like growths were covered with small chimneys. His scales shimmered like amethysts, though this would’ve been more obvious, if it wasn’t for the dismal weather and the fact that he was partially covered in swamp sludge. He was considerably bulky, depressing the ground considerably as he landed.

‘Weezing!’

Finally, the figure at the log stood up.

‘Go, Nidoking!’

Unlike all other Pokemon, who had followed their master’s trail out of the swamp, Nidoking had materialised out of a red energy ray that seemed almost like lightning, except it was less branched and had a more erratic track. The energy was too fast to make out its source, but it seemed to have come from somewhere behind his summoner.

Nidoking, the Pokemon that the figure at the log had summoned, had his arms outstretched, head rearing forward, and bellowing a high-pitched screech that sounded like cries from classical dinosaur films. His lilac armour shimmered in the light of will-of-the-wisps and the bipedal shadow it cast swayed as Nidoking trudged through the boggy ground.

‘You’ll never win, Tauron,’ said the heliotrope figure, his body clasped in the cradle of a giant bipedal insect, the colour of an evil shade of purple. The armoured insect purred, but it quickly became a shrill growl.

‘I suggest you surrender,’ the urchin man said with slight comedy. He was crouching down, but not on the ground. He was crouching on a large floating rock that could not be easily described, except it looked like an unhappy brain tumour, or the heads of a pair of Siamese twins. Both heads bore a skull-and-crossbones symbol beneath its mouths, and the Weezing stuck out its chin to draw attention to it. A slow rumbling could be heard from it's innards, and Tauron knew exactly what it was; the constant exchange of hydrogen peroxide gas and hydroquinone gas that fuelled its levitation and fire attacks.

‘This isn’t very wise,’ the watery figure added, the tentacles of a giant jellyfish with two giant red crystals embedded in it’s soft blue float and huge beaks for mouths, wrapped around him like a murderer to a hostage. The figure did not retaliate, even though his limbs were bound together and the Tentecruel began to growl softly, maliciously.

‘Not to the death, ‘kay?’ the oozing figure said with a casual, though determined tone, as if it was all but a fun game. He was slightly shorter than the others, and was sitting on the shoulders of a massive vividly coloured frog. It leered its malicious smile, which revealed yellowing teeth. The animal wielded blood-stained claws on its hands and feet, which were dangerously held up to support its master, and its perpetual smile and breathing blood sac all the more contributed to its mass-murderer appearance.

Despite the most gruesome of creatures, Tauron and Nidoking were unfazed. He did not smile at the prospect, and with a reluctant yell, Tauron initiated the first attack.

‘Earthquake, now!’

The impulse was almost instantaneous. Without saying a word, the frog had thrown itself and its master up high up into the air while the jellyfish did the same, except the sheer bulk of jelly-flesh didn’t allow Tentecruel to jump up very high. The scorpion and the floating cancer did nothing as the dragon slammed its robust tail into the ground, creating numerous blunt cracks that slowly made its circular way across the bog to the force’s targets. The uneven ground had jut out from right beneath the scorpion and struck right at its chest, but the figure in its cradle did not care. Drapion had jumped up the moment the elevated soil had touched its chest, using it as a boost to leap.

Although sustaining some cracks in its breast plate, the scorpion dismissed it when it landed in the bog with the jellyfish, while the frog had landed right on top of the figure crouching on the floating tumour; his trainer landing on his own shoulders in turn. The wisps of flame from the acrobatics had filled the darkening atmosphere, illuminating it feebly and eerily. The jellyfish and the scorpion resurfaced with their trainers, fleshy ripples slowly across the bog, and none of them seemed to be exhausted any one bit, except for the Toxicroak, whose hastened breathing had become evident from its sac.

‘You’re right. I’ll never win,’ said Tauron, ‘but if it takes my life to convince you that you should all leave,’ he continued with a slight pant, ‘then so be it.’

Those aboard the Weezing were first to act, all three figures leaping off it.

‘Toxicroak, Dark Pulse!’

‘Nidoking, Flamethrower!’

The pulsation of a dark cicada-like vibration snuffed out the wisps and headed towards Nidoking, who was unable to see it. He received full impact of the blow, the attack on his belly releasing his attack as a concentrated fireball rather than a continuous stream of flame. The Dark Pulse attack had worked, but Nidoking’s attack was going for a much grander impact.

The fireball had hit the cancer.


-------------------------------


To be honest, I wasn't satisfied. I can't do dialogue well, especially when I try to be serious :( Oh yeah, and the length. The last prologue was about 3000 words long and this...1200. But quality over quantity, right? Oh yeah, and I wasn't satisfied with the description...that and the fact that I'm scared of trapping myself in a writer's block.

Well, criticise away. =D

 

[bobandbill]

It was alright, I thought, although I wonder how many different storylines there are going to be - mightn't be easy to keep track of all this after a while unless it's managed well. The battle however was good, although the whole 'part-Pokemon'part-human' chaarcters here was odd. And intrguing as well, but not an idea I'm that keen to focus on for too long. :P

The dialogue I thought was ok - nothing fantastic, and nothing really original in it either (I've seen before, for instance, '‘You’re right. I’ll never win,’ said Tauron, ‘but if it takes my life to convince you that you should all leave,’ he continued with a slight pant, ‘then so be it.’', and variations of this), but it was decent, and certainly I can see those things being said - nothing struck me as odd there.

Again, your description was great - really good, and again enjoyable. It's very rich and carried well.

‘We will not leave our motherland. Surely, you know that’

You need a full stop after 'that'.

I propose a battle; I win, we leave, you win, we stay.’

Maybe '...we leave; but if you win, we stay.' ? A suggestion...

He received full impact of the blow, the attack on his belly had releasing his attack as a concentrated fireball rather than a continuous stream of flame.

'had' isn't needed. Also, you *could* use 'the' in front of 'full impact', but it isn't necessary.
And I liked the last line, btw. =) Keep it up.

 

[DonKarasuMan]

It was alright, I thought, although I wonder how many different storylines there are going to be - mightn't be easy to keep track of all this after a while unless it's managed well.

You have no idea. Well...it's why I'm taking the fic extremely slowly. I'm trying to stumble away from devices which will just make the whole fic collapse, and I'm trying to experiment with a fic that does not involve only one main character (i.e. giving the role to...a number of contrasting characters). I can see this fic being quite unsuccessful though (because I have such a large cast) - in that case I'll just split this fic up (like an orange).

The battle however was good, although the whole 'part-Pokemon'part-human' chaarcters here was odd.

I was afraid some would go 'Ohnoez, autogarystu!!!11' In that case, I'll just pummel him into submission with misfortune after misfortune :p

The dialogue I thought was ok - nothing fantastic, and nothing really original in it either (I've seen before, for instance, '‘You’re right. I’ll never win,’ said Tauron, ‘but if it takes my life to convince you that you should all leave,’ he continued with a slight pant, ‘then so be it.’', and variations of this), but it was decent, and certainly I can see those things being said - nothing struck me as odd there.

Bleh, too much Final Fantasy >.<

Actually, I should've just put an actual quote there (just as a find-this-get-a-cookie:D), but I'm surprised how generic it sounded >.<

Again, your description was great - really good, and again enjoyable. It's very rich and carried well.

Thank you! Would you say that it's a strong point of mine?

 

[nothing to see here]

Scyclical

Isn't it supposed to be spelled "Cyclical?"

Of course, if that's an intentional misspelling (which I've seen used in titles a few times before), you can ignore this post... just thought I'd point it out just in case it was accidental and just hadn't been noticed yet.

 

[DonKarasuMan]

Yes it's intentional; it's a portmanteau.

Though searching on Google, I've found that there have been several typos like that.

 

[bobandbill]

Yes, I'd definately say that it's your strong point in writing; leastways from what I see. :)