[RP] Final Fantasy XIII: The Butterfly Effect.

A launched strike of her Ninjato was so fast that the events following it, all happened in a blink of an eye. The Ninjato was launched with all of Sakiko’s momentum following it, so that would put velocity with force, and correct accuracy. Even with this so, the speed wasn’t enough to hit the tall male as with one fell swoop, the blade was set aside, and with such force behind his counter, the Ninjato was about an inch or three into the ground. The attack didn’t end there, unfortunately. Twisting his sword, the man struck the chain with the flat side of his black sword, and in doing so, this forced Sakiko to be pulled to the man’s comfort space due to the force of the blow.

“whaaa!!” Surprising screams as Sakiko’s body was not only lifted off the ground, but also the chain flew into the air, and she was at least five feet into the air. She was still conscious of what was happening, so it’s not like Sakiko wasn’t going to try to maneuver her body to a pose where it wouldn’t hurt her handing. She knew that her weight would only keep her in the air for so much longer given the gravity, and how the chain was wiggling. She was holding her Dagger for dear life, but also she poised her body to an upward position with her head facing downward. As her body now came closer to the ground, she released grip of the dagger, which in response to that, the chain sort of whiplashed on the ground only to swerve two feet In the air, only to come to a stop on the ground. Meanwhile, Sakiko’s body was coming closer to the ground, she tucked her body into a ball so it would decrease some speed. Only two feet from the ground, Sakiko did a really agile, and quick front flip which allowed her to land on her feet.

With her life saved for the present moment, Sakiko couldn’t help but glare at the man before her as she saw her weapon just a foot to his right. Her distance from the man was a mere three feet, but that was going to change. If it meant getting closer, Sakiko would get her weapon back, and it would have to be now.

Quickly running from left to right, and then right to left, Sakiko needed to gain speed before she would quickly dash to the right, just before getting a foot of distance away from the man. Jumping to the right, and landing on her hand, Sakiko did a total corkscrew over the tall man only to get the hilt of her weapon in her left hand. By adding light force, Sakiko pulled it out, and then came a push of a button to quickly suspend the chain back into the hilt. This was only to ensure that she wouldn’t trip over the chain. Jumping once more, Sakiko did a double front flip, with a mid-air, ninety degrees twist to face the man at a yard of distance. Safety was now secured.

This safety was soon cut short as, the man took such reckless actions as to strike the ground, but seeing how this was the area of the Pulse Vestige where the platforms shift at random areas, it was only enough force behind the strike to activate the platforms ‘ascending and descending’ feature. In this case, the descending part was activated, and with his body poised, the man held his sword, as Sakiko held hers.

Just as she was thinking of attacking once more, thoughts traveled from many corners of her mind - thoughts that were all about this man, and what his whole persona is. Surely he isn’t the kind of man who likes to pick fights, let alone with teenage girls with no magical powers. So, what really was his true agenda.

“You look like a man of respect, honor, and integrity. And by the way you fight, you aren’t any novice. So, why do act like such a coward? You fight like a pro, yet you insult me without any probably cause." Her words full of the very thoughts that lingered in her mind throughout the entire fight. “I don’t know what exactly you want with me, or what kind of problem you have with me, but seriously, you just need to live up to who you are, and act like a man, and not some little coward.” Her words bold as her spirit, Sakiko spoke her mind, and she knew that this man could take it, and answer without a physical or verbal blow.

[Pulse Vestige|Top Enternce
Sakiko|Sexy Beast; Unknown Figure|Xemneroth]
 
“Keep your sanctimonious platitudes to yourself, Brigadier General. You may speak to me of curses and suffering when you have lived as long as I, with naught but your instincts and strength of will to rely on, and only the incessant chatter of the one who would claim to be your Master for company.” Elicia said listlessly, no longer particularly interested in the woman opposite her. That she was willing to embrace her l'Cie powers was progress. Perhaps Elicia had opened her eyes somewhat with her display of power. However, she highly doubt that the Brigadier General would be of much use for very long, so long as she thought of her gifts as Fal'Cie powers and not her own. She still clung to those remnants of humanity that, in truth, she no longer possessed. She saw herself as a human slave to the Fal'Cie, and not as an independent l'Cie. When was she going to realise that she wasn't human anymore? Perhaps moments before the end, when her newfound strength failed her and she was turned into a Cieth. It would be interesting to see.

Either way, Elicia would wash her hands of the matter, for now. Driving this woman into the ground wasn't going to change her point of view. As long as she made herself useful for a brief period of time, what matter her fate? She was absolutely no threat to Elicia whatsoever, and would remain that way - there was not a single creature on this planet that was her equal in strength, after all. Let her catch a glimpse of all she could become before she eventually succumbed.

“Look at this mess.” Elicia gestured absently with one hand to the city, and the corpses of PSICOM and civilians alike that scattered what remained of the bridges, “The paperwork on this is going to be extremely tedious, as is disposing of the dead. I suppose people still have funerals these days. More money out of the government’s pockets, wasted on corpses. How on earth has human civilisation survived all these years?” she shook her head, gripped by a sudden fatigue. That was unusual. Most unusual indeed. Elicia had nearly suppressed her body’s needs and feelings entirely. It was not often that she felt fatigue; her duel with Wisel (if indeed it could be called that) had not taxed her strength at all, and even her battle with the Fal’Cie had not been particularly troublesome. Perhaps it was simply age…and that ever-growing feeling of futility that she was on an impossible mission. Doubts gnawed at Elicia like rats at a corpse and, whilst she was beyond feeling, there still remained a sense of violation, a growing unease. Things were coming to a head, she believed. The opening gambits of the final act had begun and now, it was just a matter of time. Soon she would either succeed, or become a corpse in truth, food for the rats. Provided there was anything left of her, anyway.

"Now, then. As you are no doubt aware, the threat to the Hanging Edge has been removed. The Fal’Cie that plagued this area lies dead, a hole through his chest…and his side.” Elicia frowned in irritation as she remembered her lapse in her attack before continuing, “The l’Cie have yet to be found. I want them found, Brigadier General. Found, and monitored. Monitored, do you understand me? You are not to offer them sanctuary, not until we know their Focus. I have seen many l’Cie driven to complete their Focus out of desperation and fear, I will not have Cocoon’s citizens endangered. We shall determine their Focus, and then shall their fate be decided. Until I decide otherwise, they are a threat.” They would probably have to be killed, of course. Fal’Cie lacked imagination when it came to setting goals for their l’Cie. Destroy this, destroy that, it was always the same. The only thing in this world that needed to be destroyed was the Fal’Cie, and Elicia was perfectly capable of accomplishing that by herself. It was likely that these new l’Cie would be absolutely useless to her.
“We will move out shortly, as soon as your soldiers have dispersed what remains of that worthless rabble down there. I trust you have no objections?”

---

The innermost room of the Vestige was a domed structure, formed centuries ago by a nameless Fal’Cie, one that was now likely dead by Elicia’s hand. A weak-willed fool who was unworthy of the name of Fal’Cie, and no great loss. Dweios sat now on the throne that was situated in the centre of the far wall, his eyes on the door.

Gauntleted hands resting on the marble arms, hairline cracks beneath them an indication of the frailty of the structure. All it would take was one solid blow, and the structure would crumble beneath his hands. It had ever been thus, although many had failed to realize this. They were now all dead. All but one, of course, and Dweios knew he was nearby. He could not resist keeping his squashed nose out of Dweio’s business, after all. His reckoning would come soon, however, and it would be all the sweeter for it.

One hand reached over his shoulder, absently feeling the cold steel of Mercy, strapped to his back. He had felt the death of his minion the moment it had happened. The poor fool. Yet one more in the ever-growing list of casualties. If things continued this way, Dweios would be the last surviving member of his kind. It was fortunate, then, that his plans had moved far beyond domination of his brethren.

It all began with this. The Purge served a purpose, after all – it weeded out the weak from the strong, it determined who would be worthy of the honour of servitude, the gift of the l’Cie. Even now, those humans who had survived the mindless culling of their kind would be seeking him out for retribution. What they would find would be a new set of chains, ready to bind them to his will. From serving the mindless creature that they called society, they would now serve him. Or they would die. It mattered not, for there were plenty of humans left and, eventually, Dweios would find one worthy of being his servant. Or, at least, capable of distracting that bitch would hounded his every step, ruined his most carefully constructed plans, slaughtered his allies…she had a lot to answer for.

Dweios settled back into the throne, a smile flickering across his face. Soon, she would answer for her crimes. Soon, the world would fall under his rule, and even the Maker would have to recognise his power. Soon, now.

[Elicia & Wisel - The Hanging Edge]
[Dweios - The Vestige (innermost chamber)]
 
-------------------------------------------------

The tall figure merely continued to focus his gaze on Sakiko, the young woman already having retrieved her weapon after a rather impressive display of acrobatics. Now, as both warriors stood poised, ready to act at a moments notice, Sakiko took her time to comment on the man. Words of coward and respect were launched like weapons at him, her words trying to either make him see the wrong in what he said before, or to confuse him, to momentarily distract him and to let her attack in that one brief moment. Yet, he still never budged. His deep purple eyes still burrowed deep into her, even as the gently rattling of the descending platform grew louder as its descent began to slow.

Running partially towards her, the figure quickly swung his massive sword, slicing vertically and horizontally at Sakiko yet always managing to just miss her with every swing, though the deadliness of the blade remained merely a hairs width from her with each attack. After another failed slice, the man quickly latched both of his hands onto the handle of the sword, before raising and slamming it down onto Sakiko's Ninjato. While she succeeded in keeping herself protected, the violent shaking and swerving of the two weapons, showed that both warriors were equally strong.

"Your appearance here is one of foolishness on your part. You run head first into dangers you clearly do not know awaits. That, is the reasoning of a child." Replied the man, before forcibly pushing Sakiko away with a close strike from his sword, giving both of them enough room between one another.

"However! If you wish to be treated as an equal, then you shall have that honor. But know, that this is your own choice, and no one else. You are solely responsible for your decision." He added, as he raised his sword again, forming the stance which he had used before.

Dashing towards Sakiko, the man didn't seem to give much care to what her view of his warnings would cause her to say next, as he continued to hold his sword while dashing, in the same stance to which he began. Raised into the air and aimed towards the woman, the man quickly swung his sword down after a few feet of running. As the blade slammed and instantly pierced the rock and metal before him, the man continued running forward, his hand still clutching the handle of the giant sword as he pulled it with him like a lever. With a single push, the man launched himself into the air, the force from his leap allowing him to pull the sword out with him before swinging his arm full circle in a downward strike towards the young warrior.

As he already began to fall back towards Sakiko, his powerful swing, added with that of the force of his fall, his starting momentum, and pure strength, all these factors seemed to build onto one another, combining in force until his swing became much stronger then what it started out with. Bringing the full swing down a few inches from her, the man's power would have felt so overwhelmingly frightening. Though the blade never cut or even touched her body, the tidal wave of power that would have flowed from it, would quickly overload the senses and nerves of any ordinary person.

Raising his weapon before slowly returning it to its sheath on his back, the man still watching Sakiko, as she slumped slightly to the ground while her eyes heavily fluttered before closing and enveloping her sight and mind with nothing but the quiet darkness. As each of her senses slowly would have shut down, the sound of the man's heavy foot steps approaching her, along with the echoing of the platform reaching its stop, would no doubtingly have been the last thing she would have heard.

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

Laying before one of the main platforms, granting access to the higher floors of the Vestige, the unconscious body of Sakiko would have been in full view of those who traversed the colossal structure. Though she had no wounds, no bruises, no damage of any kind, it would seem something caused the young woman to remain in this sleep like state, even if it was only for a short time. Yet within her thoughts, that tall man would continue to remain, while the single word he last spoke to her echoed softly in her mind. Servius.

[Sakiko (Sexy Beast); Unknown figure/Servius (Xemnaroth)]
[Pulse Vestige: Highest Floors]
 
[FONT=&quot]“We’ve little purposes here in the Hanging Edge if this situation has waned. All I await now is for my Cavalrymen to complete what I have assigned them to do. Once that is over may we quit this wretched place.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Wisel briskly walked off towards the stationery Pravoka that remained resting on a stable platform above what was presumably before the War of Transgression a grand residential skyscraper-like construct, its architect very characteristic of the Cocoon of several hundred years ago. For millennia now the Cocoonian people had lived under the wing of the Fal’Cie, bestowed with the power of such technology, yet completely oblivious to the evil that their supposed guardians were emanating since the dawn of time. It was time that humanity began to shape its destiny.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“And what will become of the Pulse Vestige, your Eminence?” inquired Wisel, stopping on the spot, her eyes fixated on the ship ahead and not at her listener, “I suppose a construct as menacing and conspicuously dangerous as that will be cast away to Pulse. It has no reason to remain on Cocoon if it continues to foster only panic and despair to the populace. For the sake of the people, that abomination should be completely destroyed or exiled as far away from Cocoon as possible. Additionally Your Eminence, I do not know much about you or your history. From your lips I have heard mentioning of how I will never understand a certain degree of suffering until I have lived as long as you. To clarify my point, I do not know how long you have lived and what your exact history with the Fal’Cie is. The fact is however, your longevity despite your status as a L’Cie intrigues me. It serves only to enhance my curiosity at this moment in time. I take my leave now, Your Eminence.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Elicia’s subsequent reply was lost as Wisel briskly walked off, effortlessly leaping over the ruined remains of a bridge construct to reach the platform of the Pravoka. Whatever the Primarch had said, her tone had unchanged and remained as cold as it had ever been. Nevertheless, Wisel was free to banish her to the back of her mind for the time being. Her mind seemed fixated on the Pulse Vestige; its stature marvellous and imposing, its figure dominating the landscape of the Hanging Edge. She could enter that structure alone and destroy any Fal’Cie elements within, yet despite the fact that this was what her hands yearned for; her head had other thoughts and convinced her otherwise. The Sanctum would undoubtedly deal with the structure soon anyway and nothing within would survive, perhaps not even herself. To rush into danger so eagerly and foolishly would be unwise especially when she had the Purgees and L’Cies also on her mind. Elicia’s actions had certainly been conclusive. It was apparent that there were Fal’Cie roaming the area – unusual in that they would normally be at their stations – though perhaps excited by the implementation of the Purge and the chaos revolving around it, the Fal’Cie were perhaps planning all of this and were starting to make their move. No doubt that there would be L’Cies in the vicinity, although she had yet to contemplate on how to track them down. If she had sanctioned the use of sonar equipment for her Cavalrymen, she would have been easily discovered a L’Cie to her team. If she had utilised sonar equipment for herself, it would have been ineffective if yielded by a L’Cie herself. At the moment, her intentions of tracking down L’Cies and extending her hand of companionship to them seemed a rather unfeasible task. Perhaps if she returned to her station in the skies of Cocoon could she seek another method of finding them. Any public appearances of L’Cies – be they Sanctum L’Cie or Pulse L’Cie – would certainly be woven into headlines anyway. Perhaps for now she should allow the Cocoonian media to work. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Brigadier General Wisel!”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Wisel had returned to the interior of the Pravoka and was greeted with a trio of Cavalrymen who had been tasked with defending the airship from hostilities and had just come to attention the moment they espied Wisel’s entrance.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Men, at ease,” declared Wisel as the trio relaxed their arms, “what is the current situation with the Purge and the rebellion? How has the team managed out there?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She was met with some initial hesitation from the three Cavalrymen as they elicited only a solemn pause before being able to reply to the General’s questions.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Largely madam, the rebellion has already died,” replied one, which instantly triggered an alarmed look on Wisel’s face, as she braced for the worst, “Our men did all they could for the wellbeing of the Purgees, and trying to calm down the more aggressive Purgees, though understandably we were only seen as being another division of the Sanctum military sent down to aid the ailing PSICOM troops..”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You did not silence them with lead did you?” interjected Wisel in an alarmed voice.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“No, we attempted to reason with them, when the tense atmosphere was broken by the arrival of Sanctum bioweapons and Warmechs. This must have been PSICOM. They just attacked the Purgees indiscriminately regardless of whether or not they were part of the rebellion. The Cavalry had to quickly pull out as we were clearly outnumbered while armed Purgees were continuing their assault against PSICOM’s weapons.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You just pulled out-?” exclaimed Wisel, though within she knew perfectly well that her men could not have hoped to intervene against PSICOM. They could not afford having PSICOM turn their guns on the Cavalry.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“PSICOM troops were clearly outmatched today,” continued one of the troopers in a shaky voice, “normally they do not bring out their Warmechs and bioweapons, although with the situation as it was, they came out in earnest.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Indeed…” replied Wisel solemnly, as she recalled the sudden appearance of the Scorpio Warmech that had attacked her and Elicia.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“General, uhh…” continued the trooper, “PSICOM’s formidability was tremendous. A Scorpio Warmech at the cost of damaging itself completely destroyed one of the sections of the Hanging Edge. A good several hundreds have probably died…”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Wisel could only feel her arms turn limp, as if the very bloodstream that flowed down her arms had ceased like frozen water. Was this…all they could do? Her aspirations – and the aspirations of her men – to try and limit the death toll of this disgusting Purge as much as possible; was this all in vain now? Several hundred have died today, perhaps many more now that PSICOM had retained their grip of the situation with the additional support of their wretched bioweapons and Warmechs. What concerned her more however, was the trooper’s description of a Scorpio Warmech that had destroyed a large section of the area, decimating lives that were currently in its vicinity – ‘at the cost of damaging itself’. Could that have been the very same Scorpio Warmech that had unceremoniously attacked her and Elicia earlier on; the very same machine that had been badly damaged; the very same machine which bore a core that was flashing so rapidly, like an aggressive, blinking eye. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]An eye…[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]She immediately recalled what she had briefly glimpsed on the flashing core of the Warmech, moments before her deathblow met its target. An eye-like appearance, malicious and calculating; it was gazing into her very own eyes, like an enraged master angrily demanding immediate obedience from its rebelling slave. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]A master…[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Shocking her three troopers, her left fist rammed violently against the wall of the Pravoka hangar, leaving a visible wound on its sterile, grey face, her photon streams agitatedly fluctuating. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“It’s always the doing of the Fal’Cie…” she venomously hissed, “we try and do what we can to protect the lives of others and the Fal’Cie come in and gleefully kill them off in droves like that, like we’re all expendable objects to them. I have had enough. Cocoon has had enough…”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]If protecting people was now something unfeasible, there was only one thing left that weighed her mind so heavily: the Fal’Cie. They must all be wiped off the face of Cocoon to quell this tyranny.
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Brigadier General Wisel (Fleur)], [Elicia (Leanne)]
[The Hanging Edge] ----> [Pravoka interior]
[/FONT]
 
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After several minutes with no reply, and very little movement from the other two members of the larger part of the room, alexander realised he wasn't going to get anywhere this way, perhaps it was the PSICOM uniform, after all if they were purgees, and they saw him as an enemy, he was exceptionally lucky not to be in the middle of a fight for his life right now.

Slipping back out of the small box-type room, Alexander looked for some other way out of the main room itself, seeing a corridor leading away from the way he came into the room.

"Well at least it isn't going to take me back to where those last Cie'th were" he thought to himself.

Following the passageway for several minutes, he felt his gut begin to clench, as if something dreadful were about to happen, or as if some sixth sense was warning him not to continue onwards, however, ever curious as to what could possibly make him feel this way, he pushed onwards, until up ahead, he saw the corridor spill outwards into a large room.

As he stepped over the threshold, several things caught his attention almost immediately, firstly, the sheer immensity of the room he was standing in, with an impossibly high domed ceiling. Secondly was the character who appeared to be seated in the centre of the room, it was a thing nightmares could be made of, many times the size of a normal man, meerly looking at it caused Alexander to feel such dread as he was frozen to the spot, he even tried to force himself to reach for his sword, or pistol, but was simply transfixed on the enormous being in front of him...


(OOC apologies, I left the part where he moves on as sketchy as possible, just sort of got no response and looking to move it on?)
 
[OOC: Waiting until people arrive before Dweios actually does anything. I just hunger for some dramatic conversation. xD]

Elicia ignored Wisel as she walked away, lost in thought as she stared out over the landscape. The fires had finally burned themselves out, or had been put out, leaving nothing but the faint glow of the promise of rebirth if but more fuel was added, the corpses littering the bridges like some sort of macabre mosaic. Rubble, ashes and death. A fitting monument to the human race. A frail, miserable race, driven by the notion of progress, as though progress was purpose, and purpose inherently virtuous. The accumulation of wealth, experiences, emotions and, above all else, power.

All of it, pointless. Naught but a vast denial of the reality, covered by semantics and euphemisms, by metaphors that human society used in an attempt to justify its very existence, to define its…purpose. As if life were a contest to be won and lost, as if it were defined by achievements. All of it, it was naught but a flight from the inevitability of death. Death, indiscriminate and final. There was no meaning in death, only a finality that escaped the living, thus making them seek to escape from it.
“So, where is your meaning now?” Elicia wondered aloud, her voice a whisper lost in the winds, a whisper itself, of all that she had lost, and could never regain. She felt no sorrow, only an overwhelming sense of futility. For, if Elicia must think at all, she would think of futility. Because it was, of course, futile.

Ah, my dearest Elicia. Why so down?

The voice echoed painfully through her skull, cutting into her musings, a familiar, smug tone, silky smooth. The overconfidence of one who had lived for millennia, who believed he pulled all the strings. It was a tone that had always bothered Elicia, try as she might to deny it.

“What do you want?” she spoke aloud, her voice cool and measured. She did not much care if anyone heard or approached her – indeed, there was nobody around to do so, save for perhaps one of Wisel’s errant soldiers. Too bad for them, if they dared approach her. After all, what was the death of one more soldier?

Is that any way to speak to your Master? I am wounded, my dear, by your lack of respect, of compassion. Has your heart turned to stone after all these years of isolation? Did you not enjoy your little battle with my toy? My, so powerful you have become! Yet still not enough…it shall never be enough, will it? Of course not…this is why I chose you to be my right hand, and what a hand you have been!

She smiled grimly. “You should know by now that I bow to nobody, least of all you. You should also know that I do not play your games. You cannot stop me. Now, I ask again: what do you want?”

I thought I would check up on my favourite servant, of course. You have had quite a day, have you not? First the Fal’Cie, then one of your own soldiers, and then one of your own machines. Dear me. You must be getting tired…

A familiar numbness gripped Elicia’s right hand, which she brought – with some difficulty – up before her face. Sure enough, it had begun to glow, the aura a faint blue, the tips of her fingers shimmering, refracting the light that came from within them. She shook her hand once, dispersing the aura, small crystal particles shimmering before disappearing into the air. Cold fury gripped her.

“You’ll not be rid of me so easily. Enough games. Save your words for when we meet, face-to-face.”

Always with the games, Elicia. Have I mentioned games even once? You should know that I take you – or, rather, your sword – very seriously indeed. Very, very seriously. Indeed, you are the bane of my existence. It has become rather tiring. In any event, I thought you would want to know what happened to the l’Cie down there…but, if you would rather continue your morbid brooding, I shall leave you to it…until we meet, face-to-face, as you so crassly put it.

“What of them?” Elicia asked, mind alight with suspicion. His hand was clearly in this. Yet Fal’Cie never worked together, not since the War of Transgression. It was unheard of. Was he simply taking advantage of an idiot’s mistakes? Trying to throw her off balance? Or was there some truth to his words? And, if there was, what was his intention in revealing this to her? So many questions and, as always, so few answers.

Ah, so I finally have your attention? Amusing, that it would take me five centuries for you to welcome my voice. Well, to answer your question, there are none yet. There are no l’Cie here, others than those you have brought with you. But there will be, soon enough. Several survivors of the Purge are making their way to the innermost Sanctum, where I await them. Sitting on my throne, such as it is. Quite fitting, wouldn’t you say? I rather like it…perhaps I shall have one constructed of your crystallised carcass in the near future.

Peacekeeper snapped out of its scabbard. “You will regret coming here.”

Laughter, cold and conveying not even the vaguest sense of amusement. Will I? A bold claim, Elicia. The question you must ask yourself is this: are you really ready to face me? Make no mistake, you may be able to resist my influence, but you cannot deny my power. Still, come if you must. I eagerly await--

“Be silent.” Elicia brought her left hand up, unleashing a Fira spell which collided with the remnants of the bridge below her, blowing a hole through it and causing the structure to fold in on itself and tumble into the abyss below, violently shaking the already unstable bridge she stood upon. The Fal’Cie’s words were obscured by the sound of the collapse, but the cold laughter following them was not. Elicia stood, motionless, allowing her anger to dissipate, to be replaced by a core of cold iron. Unbreakable resolve. It had always sustained Elicia, and it would continue to do so. Against her will, none could prevail.

“No match for you, am I? We shall see.”

----

Dweios smiled as he broke contact with Elicia. As always, her temper got the best of her. She would rush here now, of course. Right into his arms…of course, he would not be here to greet her. Not this time. She was predictable, easy to manipulate, if one but gave her the right…incentive. There was the risk, of course, that she would kill all of his new l’Cie, but it was a risk he was prepared to take. After all, it took a great deal of energy to extinguish a l’Cie, energy that would leave her vulnerable. Ideal for crystallisation. With her out of the picture, Dweios would be able to implement his plans. If he could not, his newfound l’Cie would put them into motion for him. Either way, he would win. As he had known he always would.

“I think I have waited long enough for my guests. Let the games begin!” he returned Mercy to its hold on his back and clapped his hands once, causing the double doors to open in a hiss as air from the outside rushed in to fill the room, chilling it slightly. Dweios stood, hands clasped behind his back, Mercy and Envy glittering wickedly in the half-light, ready to receive his guests.

This might actually be fun.

Seconds later, one walked in brazenly through the doors, the confidence in his step dying immediately as he set eyes upon Dweios. Fear. Uncertainty. Excellent. This was how things were supposed to be.
“Welcome, mortal, to the heart of the Pulse Vestige. Now, tell me: for what cause have you dared enter my sanctuary?” Dweios unsheathed both Envy and Mercy, their blades flashing with the dark promise of mortality. “The longer you talk,” he added softly, “the longer you stay alive.”

[Elicia - The Hanging Edge]
[Dweios, Alexander - The Vestige - innermost chamber]
 
{CONNOR,STEVIE,LEOTIS} (HANGING EDGE)

"I was looking for my sister. She disappeared years ago, and now I want to know why and where she is. Whoever has her is gonna get a rude awakening."

Connor looked shocked and slowed down a bit. Looking at Leotis.

"Oh my...Im sorry to hear that.." Connor felt Troubled. He Hoped that the Girl was ok. He didnt want Leotis to go though anymore Emotional pain. He turned his head back and Sped up again. Stevie was still walking beside him. Speaking up Connor explained his motives for being here.

"I...I wanted to know about the L'cie....I wanted to Know why they were Hated. Shunned. The true reason. But Nothing gave me answers....I wanted to know. I wanted show the Trueform of L'cie...I..I Want to become a L'cie. So I Slipped on a purge train and Jumped off when it reached a Sutible point. When I landed I fell unconsious.."

Connor took a deep breath and Started up again.

"Sometime later. I woke up and Followed a pair of people heading in some Direction. I hoped it was towards a Purge vestige. Or somewhere with people. But they were faster and Before I knew it. They had destroyed a Giant Robot and Vanished. Upon reaching the Robot I cracked and Fell down. Sobbing my heart out. Stevie happened upon me a little later and we decided to travel together. Then you came up. and The rest is History."

Connor glanced around for any moving thing. But The place they were was Rather quiet and still. He could Hear shouting shooting and Crashes far off. His sense of excitement mounted. To break the silence Connor asked.

"Sorry if im being annoying...But Stevie..do you want to share?"
 
OOC: Screw it, i'll just move on before i'm left behind :hmph:

Crushing his target instantly with magic, David turned his attention back to his hand, still radiating a bright blue aura before fading away. Before he could brood on it, he saw a strangely marked door up ahead, he was about to walk up to it when PSICOM soldiers appeared to his back. Before he could reason with them they began to open fire, to them he was now just a target, regardless of uniform.

Retreating behind a lump of rubble he moved his hand in their direction, releasing yet another blast of icy magic bringing them both down. Whatever had happened to him, he needed to get away from people before he was hunted down and killed. Running to the strange door he saw a red mark which strongly resembled the brand on his arm, pressing his hand on the door, it opened in a flash of blue. Within he got a clear vantage point of where several people were, staying as quiet as he could he crapt through the higher areas. Before long however he was encountered by a strange creature, it resembled a human but looked more dead and was dark grey in colour. Whatever they were they impeded his progress. As more began to circle him David brought out his sword "I guess this is how my new life will be... So be it"

David - Upper Vestige
 
Running away.

It’s not like the thought didn’t enter Renton’s head. Who would want to willingly run head-first into a Pulse Fal’cie lair? He had already escaped the Purge – it may be a bad life, but he could always just blend himself into a large city like Palumpolum and evade the slowly trickling end days of the Purge. At least he’d be able to live. With a Fal’cie, there’s no telling what would happen.

But he had already made his choice. He wasn’t going to run. PSICOM and the Sanctum took his whole life away from him. They took away his life over excessive fear and paranoia – a fear and paranoia that had been ingrained from the Sanctum Fal’cie without so much as proof. Even though he hated it, it was his life. And if the Sanctum wanted to fear the Pulse L’cie, then he was going to give them a Pulse L’cie – and he was going to fight, and show them the true face of magic.

Renton’s expression didn’t change when Rasche suggested running away. He simply continued to stare ahead.

“I can’t run away. I’ve already come too far. Besides, what else is left for us in Cocoon? We’ve had our citizenship practically revoked, and all because they fear we are L’cie when we aren’t. No…” Renton looked over the edge of the elevator into the abyss below. The abyss where so many L’cie have lost their souls. Where so many Focuses have gone unfinished.

“No. If they want a L’cie threat, then I’m going to give them a L’cie threat. I’m going to become a L’cie, and neither of you can stop me.” By this time, the elevator had reached the top floor. The only thing standing between Renton and the Fal’cie was a set of stairs. Without even thinking about Rasche or Jeanne, he stepped off the elevator and, and a quickened pace, made his way up the stairs. He didn’t even care now if they were following him or not. He didn’t even care if any Cie’th were in the area. He ignored the screams of the tortured.

His target was the Fal’cie – and it was within his reach.

He reached the top of the stairs and faced the large, metallic doors – a symbol, the same symbol from before, glowed bright. With a large, echoing “bing”, the door began to open.

Time to face the Fal’cie.


[Renton][Jeanne][Rasche]
[The Hanging Edge, Cocoon - The Pulse Vestige - Outside/In Innermost Chamber]
 
[OOC: Leaving Elicia out for a while...she'll reappear after everyone who is going to be l'Cied has headed off to Lake Bresha, for a quick epic clash with Dweios before she's sent there as well. More Dweios dialogue to come as soon as everyone who is going to be there is there. Portal Mael makes is for Diar's use once he comes to (going to assume the train crashed and knocked him out, for simplicity's sake, and because I got the OK to godmod him a little. xD) as well as David's, if he's nearby. It'll close afterwards; it's just a convenient way to get those who aren't going to make it or have already been l'Cied elsewhere to the same place.

Also, Indra is Ramuh. He'll only use his real name in battles. Just to clarify.]

"Look at this mess!" Mael said irritably, kicking at an offending piece of rubble, only to howl with rage as his foot crunched against it with absolutely no effect whatsoever. Indra, Mael's Eidolon and servant, sighed in resignation. It was going to be one of those days.

"May I ask what we're doing here, Master?"

"You may, although that doesn't mean I'm going to give you a straight answer." Mael sniffed in reply, squatting to massage his foot. "We're just passing through. I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stick my nose into the Primarch's business."

Indra snorted, "'Just passing through'? Master we were in the middle of nowhere on Gran Pulse before you suddenly decided to just open a portal here. You don't really expect me to believe you!"

"Of course I don't. But I also said I wasn't going to give you a straight answer, so that is the best you're going to get. Now, stop your complaining and follow me, I think I saw a survivor over there..."

A survivor? In this mess? Indra thought it highly unlikely - after all, PSICOM were nothing if not thorough - but then, if his Master was wrong about this, he'd have something to hold over his head for the next few months. Mael was getting annoyingly infallible as of late, and it would be nice to restore the balance of power between them. He was getting tired of being outsmarted, especially by this witless buffoon.

A young boy was lying amidst the wreckage of a Pulse train, bloodied, but clearly alive. Mael cackled with delight upon seeing him, dancing a small jig before moving over to him. "See! I knew I'd find one somwhere! Unconscious, but given that this train crashed, that isn't surprising. Miraculous, in fact. It would appear humans these days are getting tougher, a few centuries ago they'd break at the slightest--"

"We came all this way for this boy?" Indra interrupted, disbelief quickly giving way to irritation, "if you'll permit me to say so, Master, you've completely lost your mind."

"No, as a matter of fact, I won't permit you to say so, so you'd better not say so, lest I thrash you within an inch of your life for your impertinence." Mael retorted crossly, ignoring him as he crouched beside the boy, the tip of his bulbous nose almost touching the boy's face, "I really do hate doing this, but neccessity is ever the master of us all. In any case, I daresay he'll die if he's left here with no means to defend himself. Either that crazy bitch will catch him, or one of my brothers will. No, I believe it is time for Mael to enter the game once again...powerless, am I? Ha! I'll outlive all of them, you mark my words--"

Indra turned away as Mael continued his tirade, punctuating it with a stamp of his foot, or driving first into open palm, spitting with rage. He was unusually active today.

It was then that he noticed the l'Cie mark on the boy's arm. Mael's mark. Indra started with surprise. When had he done that? And, more importantly, why? Mael NEVER took humans for l'Cie, and he absolutely detested those who did. For him to do so meant that something serious was going on...more so than usual, anyway. It didn't get much more serious than a Purge...well, perhaps two simultaneous Purges, but the Primach hadn't discovered the art of being in two places at once yet. Thank the Maker for small favours.

An ominous rumble sounded in the distance, followed by faint, malicious ripples of power - it sounded like the Primarch had discovered that Dweios was also here, and she was clearly not happy about it. But then, Indra reflected, she had never been particularly happy. Either way, consequences if they were discovered here, with a l'Cie as well, would prove to be most...unpleasant. He cleared his throat, shouting to make himself heard over Mael's continued tirade, "Master, if your business is concluded here, I think it best we leave. Immediately. I do believe the Primarch is headed this way."

Mael stopped his tirade to stare at his servant as though he were insane, "Not so loud, you impossible buffoon! What is the Primarch hears you? I think now we had better leave, and quickly. I have no desire to end up skewered on the point of a scythe...or worse, a rapier. All your shouting can't have gone unnoticed. Can't you be any quieter?!"

"A good idea, Master." Indra replied, a small smile creasing his wizened features.

"Well, of course it's a good idea, you simpleton! It's mine, isn't it?" Mael raised his arms, twirling his hands elaborately before slashing them through the air in front of him, opening a portal to a crystal wasteland, sparkling in the midday light. Indra sighed.

"Really, Master, must you do that every time? A simple release of your will would suffice, there is no need for such...postering."

"Now, this is why I am the Master, and you the servant. You have absolutely no sense of style whatsoever. You're far too stuck-up." Mael sniffed, striding with an air of forced dignity through the portal - dignity which, alas, was lost as he tripped on the hem of his robe and fell through the portal, his curse lost as he fell through. Indra sighed, turning back to study the unconscious, newly made l'Cie.

"Follow us if you can, mortal. May we meet again." he shrugged, then strode through the portal, after his errant Master who, once again, had outwitted his servant. Indra sighed. This was becoming a nasty habit, and it was probably only going to get worse.
 
[FONT=&quot]It was time to abandon this abhorred place. Too much blood has been shed and Wisel did not wish to remain in this wretched graveyard. Once her surviving Cavalrymen converged by the Pravoka they would immediately quit the area and return to the skies and resume their wide-area surveillance. Wisel, her sword brandished just in case, stood on one of the ruined landings near the airship itself, her eyes quickly scanning the nearby area for any returning Cavalrymen. As she was waiting, she slowly approached the corpse of a fallen PSICOM infantryman, kneeling down in inspection. Five bullet holes had ravaged him, piercing straight into his body through a point of weakness in the armour. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Typical, Wisel bitterly thought to herself, the Sanctum would boast of possessing the most advanced technology ever conceived by man and yet the battle armour composed was still so ineffective in protecting their wearers. She had spent enough of her life in the military to realise PSICOM’s own hierarchical structure to their contingencies. Mere infantrymen such as this person would be substantially lightly armoured – often donning defective armour for cost-related reasons – in comparison to the heavily armoured, often nearly invincible might of the most elite of PSICOM’s generals. This man stood no chance out here and his life had been so needlessly dissipated like this. Removing the helmet, Wisel gazed at the deceased soldier’s face. His hair was short and fair, of a strawberry-blonde colour while his eyes remained open, blankly staring upwards at Wisel herself, with a thick trickle of blood having had streamed from his mouth.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“So young,” she said melancholically to herself, “yet so expendable. The Fal’Cie and his higher-ups would never have cared about the wellbeing of this man or his comrades – or incidentally the people they were tasked to put down. Must we be this weak as a race that we cannot stand up to these accursed demigods?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She could no longer bear to see the face of this dead man, whose final image was of a bloody war. The helmet was hastily placed back on and Wisel returned to her feet, turning her back to the corpse. Family and friends; what would be the anguish that they would experience when they realise that this person was never to return home to them? The dead Purgees, how much anguish and tears would be shed for them back home when their loved ones arrive at the realisation that they have died purely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Nothing was fair, especially in this world. It was perhaps this very moving contemplation after seeing the corpse of a young man whose life had been so tragically cut short that inspired Wisel to quickly leave now. She hastily leapt over to the platform of the Pravoka, her melancholic expression clearly etched on her face. It was a sight that her Cavalrymen were of course, accustomed to.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I have given them enough time to return,” She ordered, “I gave out the command for anyone in the contingency still out there to quickly return to the airship and offered them plenty of time to re-embark. Make haste to depart immediately.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]As the Pravoka ascended, Wisel glanced coldly at the Pulse Vestige. The Fal’Cie within, she thought to herself, was it dormant or was it currently sitting on its throne now waiting for its next move, whatever it may be? It did not matter to her at the moment. That thing had to die through whatever means. If the Sanctum was not about to destroy the entire Vestige and crush everything within, then either she or the Primarch would do that. She had a feeling that the latter would certainly accomplish this, for that woman possessed power so great that if she were to incidentally cross swords with her again so hastily and in her current state, it would indeed be suicidal. Whatever the outcome, that Fal’Cie had to die for its sins and the balance of power in this world redressed. The airship thundered through into the brilliant Cocoonian sunlight. Wisel quickly imagined the world outside of Cocoon at the moment. Ask any citizen of Cocoon, that person would indeed be incredibly xenophobic to anything beyond the perimeters of this shell and rabidly fearful of the horrors lurking below, allegedly ready to pounce and tear this shell from out of the sky as soon as possible. How true was any of this though? Had anyone actually discovered the truth for themselves? What if there existed a world beyond so beautiful that mankind had actually sinned for having not yet found such an Edenic place? If indeed Pulse was to be an Edenic place (as she secretly believed herself), then humanity could dwell on that world, away from this confining and tyrannical shell. Humans could colonise Pulse and start anew. We could start the opening of a new chapter; a chapter chronicling the newfound independence of man from the wing of the Fal’Cie. Indeed, it would be a glorious world and a glorious episode for humanity. Cocoon’s purpose would no longer be needed. No more of this artificial dependence on the Fal’Cie or the artificial sun that was shining on her. Cocoon was nothing but artificial.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The Archadia itself was slowly drifting across the skies during their time in the Hanging Edge. The Pravoka viciously increased in velocity to catch up with its significantly larger parent ship. As it approached, ten radial hoops emerged, conducted by the enormous ion electrode cores near the rear of the Archadia. This was to achieve a graceful docking. The Pravoka began to slow as its trajectory was now to be dictated by the radial hoops. It flew straight through the series of hoops towards the opening mouth of the hangar. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Brigadier General and fellow men, we are docked. Proceed to exit the ship!”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]As Wisel emerged into the Archadia’s hangar, one of her lieutenants immediately sauntered up to her.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Madam, our orders have been somewhat ambiguous. What do you propose that we do now while we remain in avian orbit?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I said so already,” she replied stoically, “We track down some L’Cie from up here and extend our hand of friendship to them. If we intend to liberate man from the Fal’Cie, we will need extra hands. Hands infused with the Fal’Cie’s own power. How poetic it will be that we destroy the Fal’Cie with their own power?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Wouldn’t that mean destroying the sustainability of Cocoon as...” he was cut off as Wisel strode off unceremoniously. It was clear to her that many in her contingency feared this initiative in challenging the Fal’Cie and she did not necessarily blame them. Having spent much of their life being fed information that Pulse was hell, they would obviously continue to see this polluted shell as mankind’s haven, unconvinced that the death of Fal’Cie would be any merit for them. As she had made it clear to herself, Cocoon was to have already served its purpose. For a true future, they needed to look beyond.

[Brigadier General Wisel; Hanging Edge ----> Pravoka airship ----> Archadia]
[/FONT]
 
{CONNOR,LEOTIS,STEVIE. OUTSIDE PULSE VESTIGE}

Connor was waiting for Stevie to speak. but when he made no sighn of speaking Connor gave up and strode forward. thinking"He's probably thinking about Leotis. He hasnt spoken since I let him join"

Connor cast a Semi hidden fearful glance at Leotis. If what he thought Stevie might be thinking about was true. Then he hoped it was good thoughts. He didnt want to feel scared or pathetic around these people. Looking back he utterd a small:

"Were almost at the pulse vestige..l-lets g-go..." His voice was queit and with his Fear it faded aaway into the vaccum of silence. He shivered as he just realised how close he was too a possible way to become a L'cie. He was excited and terrified. he started shaking. and he felt sick.

"D-D-amit..why am i so pathetic?" Connor mumbled queitly enough so They didnt hear. Pulling himself together He looked back again and with a much stronger voice he said attempting to keep any hesitancy out of his voice:

"Come on..We're almost at the pulse Vestige!" He smiled a golden smile before Turning around and Jogging off towards the entrance. "I gotta keep up the with the upbeat fassad. I cant let them think im pathetic." He thought as they continued towards the entrance.

As they walked and ran. Connor wondered. "If my wish comes true. how hard will my new life be?"

{OOC: This sucked..badly.and to note because of somethings Cody(kesha/stevie) isnt going to be in this RP anymore unless he Changes his mind. So from now on Cody is gonna be basically a nontalking NPC for a little while. So if it seemed like I was controlling him. Thats why.}
 
"You know Renton, you seen pretty annoyed. You could always run away! Most citizens hate anything having to do with Pulse. So I'd understand if you two decided to run back to the purge train for safety."

"Run away..." The thought had always appeared in Jeanne's head. Since entering the Purge Train, since joining up with Rasche and Renton, since entering the Vestige. Even if they would go down to face the fal'Cie, would it change anything. The crisis would continue, until she was either dead or a l'Cie. Jeanne shuddered at the thought, the prospect of being a Pulse l'Cie. She always thought it were a fate worse than death, complete your Focus and you turn to crystal, fail and become a walking abomination. Whatever happens, she can't go back. She could not afford to.


“I can’t run away. I’ve already come too far. Besides, what else is left for us in Cocoon? We’ve had our citizenship practically revoked, and all because they fear we are L’cie when we aren’t. No…If they want a L’cie threat, then I’m going to give them a L’cie threat. I’m going to become a L’cie, and neither of you can stop me.”

"You can't possibly be serious!" Jeanne said in an annoyed tone, trying to catch to Renton before he did what he planned on doing. "You think that convincing the fal'Cie to make you a l'Cie would make things better?!" But by the time she caught up with the kid, she saw a set of large doors open. He was certainly serious in wanting to take on the fal'Cie. Even though it was a death wish, the least she could do was help him in battle.


[Jeanne-Strigon98][Renton-MagicMasher][Rasche--Heartsmash-]
[The Hanging Edge, Cocoon - The Pulse Vestige - Outside/In Innermost Chamber]
 
(Hey guys I think I'll withdraw from this RP as I'm not too active in it and I really don't have the inspiration to go on. I could have expanded the story but I'm trying to take a small break from RPing as much. This particular Rp was fun but it feels kind of overcrowded at times and on another note I get so confused with everyone's posts as most of our groups would have met by now xD So seeya! I might try and come back later when things start to move along,)

“I can’t run away. I’ve already come too far. Besides, what else is left for us in Cocoon? We’ve had our citizenship practically revoked, and all because they fear we are L’cie when we aren’t. No…If they want a L’cie threat, then I’m going to give them a L’cie threat. I’m going to become a L’cie, and neither of you can stop me.”

Rasche paused. Wanting a life of a l'Cie was something unheard of by him. If he was smart he would leave this kid and keep going, or he could let the Fal Cie Change him. After hearing Jeanne's response and couldn't help but to agree. Someone like this boy should be staying away from things like this. "Right. The life of a l'Cie isn't as glamorous as it may seem." Rasche said as he had reached the dark corridor leading to the room of the Falcie. Upon enterin he heard a grunt and saw a figur resembling his own sibling upon the floor.

"Brother!" Rasche said running to his sibling. "What did the Fal Cie do?!"

The man who Rasche had looked to for guidance for all these years had opened his eyes slowly and gazed back up at Rasche. "I asked for assistance but..."

"But what?!"

"I'm afraid we've ran out of time. We were too late in completing our focus."

"But-"

Rasche could see his brother turning black and turned back to the other two. "If you do become a L'Cie...carry on our focus." He spoke to the other two without revealing too much information.

He could feel it, his brand had acted up badly this time. He clutched his chest, it wasn't bad for him, not as it was for his brother who now lay upon the ground jerking and twitching violently. Would this be the way it end? Rasche hated this ending to human life. Being forced to become a Fal Cie slave and then not getting the chance to see the light of day. Rasche's brother Orouba had become engulfed in a white light and in a flash he was gone. The remins of Rashe's brother was gone but a Ceith was all that remained.

Rasche saw the sight and cried. He did not want this to happen to the both of them. He ripped his shirt to where his brand burned heavily. "I'm a l'Cie...but I won't be for long. Go and get out of here." he spoke to Renton and Jeanne. "Go on, leave me here. All I can do is wait..."

Rasche sat himself along the hall walls of the pulse Vestige leading to the Fal' Cie. He waved the two on as he awaited his own death by Ceith.
 
(OOC: Would just like to apologise for the amount of time since last most, internet and FFF seem to spend a lot of time disagreeing at the moment)


Alexander had heard every word the being in front of him had said, and his mind began to race, what could be said to such a monstrous creature to keep it entertained, after all, it would be pointless to have made his way to the centre of such an unusual and fantastic building, only to be struck down by one of the few sentient beings he had come across so far.

Hundreds of ideas burst to the forefront of his mind yet every time his mouth refused to work. Aware he had been standing there for several minutes he knew he must say something soon, after all, something that size could well be serious about killing him if he refused to speak...

"You.. you're a Fal'Cie, right?"

"What are you doing in a place like this, a deactivated vestige, in a place such as the hanging edge, don't the Fal'Cie provide for the people of Coccoon... keep them alive even?"

Hoping that perhaps the Fal'Cie would decide to answer him rather than despatching him in an untimely fashion Alexander looked on, and whilst staring directly at the creatures face, he felt himself almost unconciously reaching towards his sword, whether for comfort or not, he continued, knowing he could catch himself if the Fal'Cie noticed him...
 
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