Dias
Fenrir
Well, over the past few months, I have been dabbling in different ideas for fics, and came to the realization that I am done with writing Pokemon ones. I’ve sort of done everything I want to do with that universe, and I just can’t get inspired to write anymore. I can only take it so far within the realms of my own satisfaction. Thusly, we have this preview.
This will be my first non-Pokemon fic that also happens to be non-original (I’ve posted a few non-Pokemon fics here in the past but they were also original stories and not based off of anything) posted here, and also the first time that I will be using a full cast of characters that I have also not created. I’m fairly certain that this will never be a problem (but since I don’t care about canon, I really don’t care if it turns out to be a problem or not).
Codex Anathema is set in the realm of the ps1 game Final Fantasy Tactics. It will take place after the events of the game, but certain parts, most notably the ending/after math, have been altered via the history of this story to make it fit with my vision.
I plan on writing this fic so that someone who has never played the game could still understand the story and goings on. I keep debating whether or not to post in this thread a short history of the events of the fic (or, basically, the events/story of the game), or to just take care of that in the fic itself. My only worry is that if I do just explain things in the course of the story, it would be rather long winded and at parts take too much away from the present. Posting a history here, though, would allow me to describe historical events naturally in a line or two and make it fit better with the flow of the present events. But, I have yet to decide on that.
So, if you have not guessed, this will be a eastern European styled medieval fantasy piece (as if I would really write anything else). Religion plays a big part in the fic, as it played a large part in the game. The game paralleled actual historical events, such as the start and spread of Christianity (mostly parallels with Catholicism), the Spanish Inquisition, and the War of the Roses. The fic will deal with religious controversy and reformation, demonology, war against heaven, excommunications, heretical practitioners, among other things.
In short, the story will detail the actions of a young king who is again thrust into turmoil provided by the power of twelve zodiac stones and the reformation of a corrupt religion. Again he is confronted by a plot involving these stones, but the motives of the enemy aren’t at all what he perceives, or could ever believe. The campaign will take him again across the lands of Ivalice and into realms abstract and beyond. He must encounter those whom he had slain in the past again, and again battle the demons he cast out before, and those demons which will grow within him. He must resist the allure of Hell and promises of power and face the ghosts of past events.
I suspect I will have the story started and posted soon, but until then, here’s the prologue.
The night sky was cloaked in billowing smoke spawned from the fires below. Flames danced a sweeping bolero within the castle’s walls, their guttural roars all but drowning out the yells. A line of mayhem had been cut through the village, where night watchmen lay dead and the earth bore deep scars that still gasped curls of steam. The terror that had rolled through the hamlet did not waste any time, however, putting an end to only those who stood in its path. The keep had been the target.
The portcullis, built solidly of heavy iron, was warped and bent askew, tossed aside like a broken weapon at the castle’s main gate, which opened into a scene no less tragic. The bodies of castle guards - knights caped in red - were bespattered about the hall, afflicted with partially-cauterized gashes and other wounds from which blood ran slick. The courtyard just ahead was now an inferno, burning away and choking the air with smolder. Frantic shouts echoed throughout the keep, heavily masked by the clamor of steel and the howl of the conflagration.
Two figures swept down a corridor, both mounted on chocobos, one red and one black. Upon the red creature was a lithe figure draped in a black cloak slashed with silver crescents. The second, perched upon the black bird, wore himself openly, wrapped in leather armor and charcoal gray dressings. His brown hair was slightly damp from the heat, and beads of perspiration rolled down his chiseled, aged face. Behind them was nothing but fallen soldiers and deep inflictions upon the stone.
They were not alone for long, for the alarum that the two had produced reached all corners of the castle. Another group of knights, clad in gold-tinted armor and sporting their uniform red cloaks emblazoned with the realm’s standard, burst from a side corridor. Swords and shields at the offensive ready, the three were prepared to fight - and die - to protect.
The pair of riders slowed, but did not stop, and the enrobed figure pressed his knees into the sides of his chocobo. The beast flapped its wings once and its eyes rolled slightly back before a cluster of flames leapt from an open beak. The attack split into several small fireballs and ravaged the front most oncoming soldier. His shield resisted one, and his armor withstood another, but those he did not block found him in more vulnerable places. Two soldiers remained.
Slightly surprised by this group’s tenacity, the rider turned to his more open compatriot, and gave him a slight nod.
The leather-bound man raised a long shaft of metal, on the closer end of which was a lever. He pointed it directly at the soldiers, who now where merely ten feet away, and squeezed the trigger. A sibilant crack filled the air as jagged tongues of lightning raced out of the metal tube. They cut through armor and flesh alike, tearing gashes into the protected bodies, and pushing out the other side. The bolts crashed into the floor and sliced injuries into the masonry.
The two were again alone.
They spurred their mounts on again, more quickly now, and avoided unwanted interception. They had only one target, and he would be, as they knew, held in the barracks. Their prey would surely have heard of their coming, and would be, as the king was known to do, awaiting his enemy in the antechamber ahead, which was said to be a prime position for defense.
They came upon the final hallway, an expanse of stone and sconces which ended at a large door. No quarry met them here in the hall, and they knew that he for whom they came, and his most elite of knights, would be behind that door, prepared and anxious.
The two were on the door in moments, and they, at long last, pulled their great birds to a stop. The cloaked figure shifted slightly and an arm rose, a hand bound in a bracer at its end. The door shook slightly, but then returned to its dormant state, only to stir to life again. This second time, it began to vibrate more noticeably, until the air was alive with a great creaking as the barrier bent dented in several places. It tore free of its frame and hung, unsupported, for a mere second before it lead the way into the room. The massive projectile slammed and scattered knights like tossed dice.
They entered the room, and the concealed rider’s cowled head swept across the area. A deep, annoyed exhalation escaped from under the hood. He brought up his hand again, two fingers outstretched, and flicked them downwards. His companion complied, pushing his mount a few steps forward and bringing up again his devastating weapon.
Arcs of lightning were serpents as they bit into the dazed soldiers. Those who had gotten to their feet found themselves on the ground again as the magic cut them. At the far end of the room, however, one man had stood, and he bore the mark of a general. The large, bearded man cast helpless looks at his troops before gritting his teeth and raising a shield between himself and that death shaft.
No bolts came for his flesh, however; only the red chocobo and its rider. The other intruder made short work of the surviving soldiers and advanced also.
The bracer-clad hand came out again and in an instant the general found himself several feet ahead of his previous position, his throat fit snuggly into the outstretched hand. He struggled to speak, to defy, but no words could climb out.
“Tell me… where is your king, Delita Hyral,” came the voice of the hidden man.
“K-king Delita…” the general started, finding it difficult to push the sentence though his closing windpipe. “K-king Delita d-died just yesterday.”
“Did he? Well… this certainly makes my job easier,” the one in the cloak mused. He dropped the general to the floor, and turned his mount around, making to leave. The general, through all of his coughing, was swelled with relief as he believed himself spared. His assailant was halfway to the door, nearly gone!
The black chocobo took one step forward, and a cackling, white-hot serpent ate the general's heart.
Some many miles away in another land, a young king leapt up from his bedding, wide-eyed and sweating profusely.
This will be my first non-Pokemon fic that also happens to be non-original (I’ve posted a few non-Pokemon fics here in the past but they were also original stories and not based off of anything) posted here, and also the first time that I will be using a full cast of characters that I have also not created. I’m fairly certain that this will never be a problem (but since I don’t care about canon, I really don’t care if it turns out to be a problem or not).
Codex Anathema is set in the realm of the ps1 game Final Fantasy Tactics. It will take place after the events of the game, but certain parts, most notably the ending/after math, have been altered via the history of this story to make it fit with my vision.
I plan on writing this fic so that someone who has never played the game could still understand the story and goings on. I keep debating whether or not to post in this thread a short history of the events of the fic (or, basically, the events/story of the game), or to just take care of that in the fic itself. My only worry is that if I do just explain things in the course of the story, it would be rather long winded and at parts take too much away from the present. Posting a history here, though, would allow me to describe historical events naturally in a line or two and make it fit better with the flow of the present events. But, I have yet to decide on that.
So, if you have not guessed, this will be a eastern European styled medieval fantasy piece (as if I would really write anything else). Religion plays a big part in the fic, as it played a large part in the game. The game paralleled actual historical events, such as the start and spread of Christianity (mostly parallels with Catholicism), the Spanish Inquisition, and the War of the Roses. The fic will deal with religious controversy and reformation, demonology, war against heaven, excommunications, heretical practitioners, among other things.
In short, the story will detail the actions of a young king who is again thrust into turmoil provided by the power of twelve zodiac stones and the reformation of a corrupt religion. Again he is confronted by a plot involving these stones, but the motives of the enemy aren’t at all what he perceives, or could ever believe. The campaign will take him again across the lands of Ivalice and into realms abstract and beyond. He must encounter those whom he had slain in the past again, and again battle the demons he cast out before, and those demons which will grow within him. He must resist the allure of Hell and promises of power and face the ghosts of past events.
I suspect I will have the story started and posted soon, but until then, here’s the prologue.
Codex Anathema
+Prologue+
Of Choking Skies and Fallen Kings
+Prologue+
Of Choking Skies and Fallen Kings
The night sky was cloaked in billowing smoke spawned from the fires below. Flames danced a sweeping bolero within the castle’s walls, their guttural roars all but drowning out the yells. A line of mayhem had been cut through the village, where night watchmen lay dead and the earth bore deep scars that still gasped curls of steam. The terror that had rolled through the hamlet did not waste any time, however, putting an end to only those who stood in its path. The keep had been the target.
The portcullis, built solidly of heavy iron, was warped and bent askew, tossed aside like a broken weapon at the castle’s main gate, which opened into a scene no less tragic. The bodies of castle guards - knights caped in red - were bespattered about the hall, afflicted with partially-cauterized gashes and other wounds from which blood ran slick. The courtyard just ahead was now an inferno, burning away and choking the air with smolder. Frantic shouts echoed throughout the keep, heavily masked by the clamor of steel and the howl of the conflagration.
Two figures swept down a corridor, both mounted on chocobos, one red and one black. Upon the red creature was a lithe figure draped in a black cloak slashed with silver crescents. The second, perched upon the black bird, wore himself openly, wrapped in leather armor and charcoal gray dressings. His brown hair was slightly damp from the heat, and beads of perspiration rolled down his chiseled, aged face. Behind them was nothing but fallen soldiers and deep inflictions upon the stone.
They were not alone for long, for the alarum that the two had produced reached all corners of the castle. Another group of knights, clad in gold-tinted armor and sporting their uniform red cloaks emblazoned with the realm’s standard, burst from a side corridor. Swords and shields at the offensive ready, the three were prepared to fight - and die - to protect.
The pair of riders slowed, but did not stop, and the enrobed figure pressed his knees into the sides of his chocobo. The beast flapped its wings once and its eyes rolled slightly back before a cluster of flames leapt from an open beak. The attack split into several small fireballs and ravaged the front most oncoming soldier. His shield resisted one, and his armor withstood another, but those he did not block found him in more vulnerable places. Two soldiers remained.
Slightly surprised by this group’s tenacity, the rider turned to his more open compatriot, and gave him a slight nod.
The leather-bound man raised a long shaft of metal, on the closer end of which was a lever. He pointed it directly at the soldiers, who now where merely ten feet away, and squeezed the trigger. A sibilant crack filled the air as jagged tongues of lightning raced out of the metal tube. They cut through armor and flesh alike, tearing gashes into the protected bodies, and pushing out the other side. The bolts crashed into the floor and sliced injuries into the masonry.
The two were again alone.
They spurred their mounts on again, more quickly now, and avoided unwanted interception. They had only one target, and he would be, as they knew, held in the barracks. Their prey would surely have heard of their coming, and would be, as the king was known to do, awaiting his enemy in the antechamber ahead, which was said to be a prime position for defense.
They came upon the final hallway, an expanse of stone and sconces which ended at a large door. No quarry met them here in the hall, and they knew that he for whom they came, and his most elite of knights, would be behind that door, prepared and anxious.
The two were on the door in moments, and they, at long last, pulled their great birds to a stop. The cloaked figure shifted slightly and an arm rose, a hand bound in a bracer at its end. The door shook slightly, but then returned to its dormant state, only to stir to life again. This second time, it began to vibrate more noticeably, until the air was alive with a great creaking as the barrier bent dented in several places. It tore free of its frame and hung, unsupported, for a mere second before it lead the way into the room. The massive projectile slammed and scattered knights like tossed dice.
They entered the room, and the concealed rider’s cowled head swept across the area. A deep, annoyed exhalation escaped from under the hood. He brought up his hand again, two fingers outstretched, and flicked them downwards. His companion complied, pushing his mount a few steps forward and bringing up again his devastating weapon.
Arcs of lightning were serpents as they bit into the dazed soldiers. Those who had gotten to their feet found themselves on the ground again as the magic cut them. At the far end of the room, however, one man had stood, and he bore the mark of a general. The large, bearded man cast helpless looks at his troops before gritting his teeth and raising a shield between himself and that death shaft.
No bolts came for his flesh, however; only the red chocobo and its rider. The other intruder made short work of the surviving soldiers and advanced also.
The bracer-clad hand came out again and in an instant the general found himself several feet ahead of his previous position, his throat fit snuggly into the outstretched hand. He struggled to speak, to defy, but no words could climb out.
“Tell me… where is your king, Delita Hyral,” came the voice of the hidden man.
“K-king Delita…” the general started, finding it difficult to push the sentence though his closing windpipe. “K-king Delita d-died just yesterday.”
“Did he? Well… this certainly makes my job easier,” the one in the cloak mused. He dropped the general to the floor, and turned his mount around, making to leave. The general, through all of his coughing, was swelled with relief as he believed himself spared. His assailant was halfway to the door, nearly gone!
The black chocobo took one step forward, and a cackling, white-hot serpent ate the general's heart.
Some many miles away in another land, a young king leapt up from his bedding, wide-eyed and sweating profusely.
Last edited:
