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Gray Fear (PG-14)

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
No, I'm not dead...

Anyways, I managed to type up something in the lingo I was in for the past few months, getting an idea, and I've made some progress in it. Just warning you beforehand, this fiction was inspired by seeing an overturned manhole cover and an ad for the Motorola PEBL.



Gray Fear
Prologue: Dominoes




Early Earth
Somewhere in Modern-Day Florida (Keeping in Account Tectonic Shifts)


The skies erupted in full, terrifying wrath.

A tumult of confused mists obscured the troubled heavens, sending out ragged, ephemeral white threads that lead great rumblings out of a Greek epic. Noxious gases ascended like fleeing devils, byproduct of life’s stunted attempts to exist in the maimed earth. The faint sun gave little relief to the parched microbes, reduced to the simplest form in an attempt to coexist with their environment. Today, genesis was chaos.

A faint speck blasted its way through the hazes, coming from the distant horizon. It was no newcomer; many like it had made their titanic graves here, tribute to their fiery ends. The speck gradually expanded, coming closer and closer, until a flaming leviathan from the heavens was zooming almost parallel to the ground, scattering the low-lying shrubbery like an arrow on water.

All of a sudden, the very light surrounding it refracted, warped, and the meteor vanished, leaving but fey dust devils to fade themselves out. Sentience would have allowed the event more attention, but the only interest any had in these primordial times was to live, and all traces of the bizarre occurrence evaporated like snowflakes in a flame.

Life went on.


+////////\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\-​


79 AD
Pompeii


There is nothing wrong today; this is not a first, Gratis tried to tell himself, as minor quakes rocked the painter’s instruments lying on his work table. It was a particularly violent one that day, but it was no cause for worry; the city of Pompeii had seen worse days. Yet he could feel it in his bones that there was something profoundly wrong this time.

Trying to shrug it off, he went over the mural his most recent customer had demanded. It was obvious the type this one was; Gratis would have to render a stunning image of… some god… and… Oh, it was no use! He couldn’t concentrate at all as the rocking earth nurtured his doubts and fears.

He calmed himself. What was over him today? Sighing, he packed his tools.

Little did he know how gruesomely his hunches would prove to materialize.


That day, Mt. Vesuvius revealed his identity in full, wrathful glory. Choking torrents of ash blew across the land, suffocating all in its way as it layered everything uncovered. Black hail showered the panic-stricken multitudes with enough size and speed to kill. Out into the distance, a dark, unforgiving leviathan vomited glowing red fluid and coughed out demons of poisonous gases. Yet, there was one instrument of his wrath more terrible than all.

Titanic walls of blazing smoke and ash ravaged the already obliterated land, converting earth and flesh and bone alike to black dust. If any could reach their other side alive, they would see a darkling landscape, with everything that once gave testament to life and color reduced to that accursed ash. If luck would be particularly uncooperative, they might stumble upon a less subtle reminder: an actual human skeleton, sometimes still holding clinging pieces of scorched flesh, and with very visible markings of actual organs melting – evaporating - from the heat.

Sanity, of course, would be the first to flee. But that would only be if there was a snowball’s chance in hell for a survivor.

Which, to be precise, was nonexistent.


+////////\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\-​


1256 AD
Same Location


The King of Articasia was a noticeably odd fellow. Prone to fits of eccentricity, he spent his days pursuing nonexistent, fantastic trophies, none of which he would ever find, and all of which would cost him a large number of troops and gold. Though analyzing the varying follies of an obvious madman is no enthralling task, one particular of his expeditions could commandeer the interests of a few.

It began as another of his antics: apparently, the Orb of Fire, one of four that could control various forces of nature, rested within a secret, complex tunnel system underneath a certain mountain in Greece. As always, he rushed to his ‘masterfully discerned’ spot with a large, expensive army, eager to gain his prize, and upon reaching the place, straight into the heart of Mt. Vesuvius, he began digging, of all things. His brilliance was unsurpassed. Perhaps this was the reason for the utter astonishment of most when the following events unfolded.


“We’ve found it!” were the words rebounding across the encampment clinging to the eastern side of Mt. Vesuvius. A herald ran across the tiny settlement, bound for the king’s tent in the center of the panoply of assembled canvas buildings. An instant later, the king pulled aside the flaps. Sweet, sweet victory was his.

Pushing through the confusion of celebrating human mass, he headed straight towards the tunnel that had been the root of his toil for the past month. A sentry awaited him at the entrance.

“We have found a cavern in the middle of the mountain, a few fathoms below it, Your Highness. Exploration was held off in wait of your orders.”

“Lead me to it,” was his reply.

A long, uneventful tunnel led the forefront of the answer, whose duration was prolonged by the guide’s less than tactful attempts to effect the exact opposite. Finally, despite Einstein’s theory holding true an eon before its actual discovery, they were there.

“Where are we?” was the first to come out of the breathless king, less accustomed to the oddly thick air than many.

The imposing tunnel walls had given way to empty space, and they seemed to have entered a large, perfectly hewed dome of a cavern. There seemed to be absolutely nothing for what must have been at least a few miles, save an indistinct source of light far off into the distance. Something extraordinary, no doubt. The king’s unbridled glee was less than subtle, but what matter was that? Soon all those who laughed at him would see. He had the Orb of Fire! Insults would be paid with sweet vengeance. No more would he be the crackpot, the blemish of the line.

They journeyed farther in. And yet, the king began to worry. The path was absolutely clear. He had been prepared for a long struggle, a steady flow of resistance over which he would finally prevail. Not through all his machinations had he ever found a solution for a quick and sudden blow; a booby-trap or a sudden precipice, perhaps.

The very doubt seemed to be the king’s excuse when a hurdle did shadow his path.

After about a half-hour of hurried walking, they encountered the curved walls of what seemed to be a translucent dome enclosing their destination. It yielded, to an extent, but never allowed them further entry, and never broke. It seemed that only living flesh and blood could bend it to their will, for when the king tried his broadsword at the dome, it was as hard as rock, contrary to when he used his hands against it. Still, even when the two used the efforts of all their sinew, the dome retained the better part of its shape. It seemed impossible to make even a small incision into it.

It was then that the guide seemed to recall something he had heard.

“According to the lore of the local folk, Your Majesty, there is a legend of four barriers that, once crossed, would give the fortunate one unending power. The first barrier, I believe, is one only crossed by “he whose heart beats with the very rhythm of the mountain,” or a multitude of such creatures. They say it is an actual species, and not an individual person. What do you think, Your Highness?”

“You wish to know what I think? I think it is a dead end, and that we will only waste time and effort using it. But let us try, for there is no other way.”

He paused.

“Send in the cavalry!”


Within a matter of minutes, every rider in the camp was sent flying into the narrow tunnel. It was an amusing sight: hosts of (usually) tall, proud cavalry, egging each other into the long, dark channel, while the king bristled with impatience on the other side. Finally, however, all of them were lined up at one end of the cavern, waiting for their mark.

Soon enough, a large, brazen-throated war-horn did its work, and a thunderous storm of confused bodies roared down the cavern. They met the barrier; it bent under its immense load, and, with a rebounding, metallic screech, it tore asunder and shriveled into nothingness.

The first barrier was broken.

So proceeded the rest of the king’s expedition. The guide knowing suspiciously much about Roman lore, the rest of the barriers were easy, requiring sufficient amounts of water, fire, and wind. At last, they came to their goal.

Before the king was a spherical, rippling ball of molten metal which glowed with an odd black light; it was impossible to place the colour, yet, somehow, the viewer knew without doubt that the had never been a brighter light in all of creation.

Before triumphantly claiming his prize, as he had always planned, the king sent for all his men to assemble around him. Then, clearing his throat, the king started a lengthy speech he had been practicing since his teenage years.

“We meet again, my dear subjects. I express my gratitude towards your humble service; it is not easy following the darker path. We have seen the loss of much wealth, respect, and some very good men. I would like to declare that their sacrifices have not been in vain. It is – “

“Err… Your Highness?”

“Not now, Christopher. As I was saying, it is imperative that we take a moment of reminiscence to our hard work. So, with – “

“Your Majesty?”

”I told you, not now! All right…

“While mourning the death of our fellow comrades, we must also look to the future and what lies ahead. The tides are changing – “

“Your Highness!”

“Christopher! Do you require a demerit, or – “

In an instant, a blinding flash of radiance arced across the cavern, ever growing, feeding on everything living it could find.

The king knew no more.


+////////\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\\\\\\\\-​


I strode amongst the ruin of felled trees and woodland refuse, enshrouded in a grey, dreary mist which seemed to obscure the secrets of the ruined forest from prying eyes. Any other would have succumbed to its will, but I was the forest itself, and had all of its fallen yet still mighty life, and power along with it. The land was in a brew of unusually chaotic turmoil, and it was my duty to inspect and deliver.

Or so was the counsel of my heart. In any case, investigation was inevitable.

As I approached the centre of the chaos, a small clearing from which odd lights had been roaring out, I sensed the remnants of another presence. It was a metallic drone, speaking of power and veins of steel, and of cold-hearted dispassion. There usually was only the quick, joyful hearts of the animals and the slow, steady beat of the trees. What new, freakish entity was this? I could not suffer myself not to look further.

The wreckage gave way to a circular hall of ash and singed grass. Embers ran thick in the scorched air, as wrecked plant-life with the occasional singed remains of some small, unwary creatures cracked beneath my feet. I could hear the lamentation of the very life all around, deprived of its beauty. There was nothing of consequence (though every lost life pained my heart like a thousand barbs), save something contrasting white in the very middle. I walked up to it.

Before me was a dazzling white human skeleton, deformed horribly by some abominable procedure. The entire torso was fused together in the shape of a thick disc, though some bones seemed hastily arranged, as if the very forest, all of Creation, God, if you will, had made a terrible mistake. Four limbs spread out from the main shape, but even they had been misshapen, stubby and conical, and spread out like a turtle. As I stood gazing at this abomination in all its wretchedness and horror, the most prominent part came before my eyes.

It had a skull, or, at the least, the pitiful shadow of one, and on what seemed to be the forehead, a most disturbing mark could be seen.

A metallic red shape in the form of a cross was embedded into the very bone. I could bear the sight no further.
 
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Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Holy frell… o.o

This, I feel without a doubt, is your finest work to date. I’m severely impressed by the language used here. It’s just deliciously eloquent, and powerful to boot—it does a great job in setting the stage. In reading this, it’s clear that this is the beginning of something really fricking cool.

A few of my favorite excerpts:

Today, genesis was chaos. A faint speck blasted its way through the hazes, coming from the distant horizon. It was no newcomer; many like it had made their titanic graves here, tribute to their fiery ends. The speck gradually expanded, coming closer and closer, until a flaming leviathan from the heavens was zooming almost parallel to the ground, scattering the low-lying shrubbery like an arrow on water. All of a sudden, the very light surrounding it refracted, warped, and the meteor vanished, leaving but fey dust devils to fade themselves out. Sentience would have allowed the event more attention, but the only interest any had in these primordial times was to live, and all traces of the bizarre occurrence evaporated like snowflakes in a flame. Life went on.

A prime example of the very eloquence I mentioned. It’s a genuine pleasure to read.

If luck would be particularly uncooperative, they might stumble upon a less subtle reminder: an actual human skeleton, sometimes still holding clinging pieces of scorched flesh, and with very visible markings of actual organs melting – evaporating - from the heat.

Wow. o_o Now that’s one hell of a memorable image. Very cool.

Sanity, of course, would be the first to flee.

That line really stood out for me; I just loved it.


The quality of writing in this piece is downright staggering—I’m very interested in reading more of this. Excellent work, here. *salutes*
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
Sike Saner:

This, I feel without a doubt, is your finest work to date. I’m severely impressed by the language used here. It’s just deliciously eloquent, and powerful to boot—it does a great job in setting the stage. In reading this, it’s clear that this is the beginning of something really fricking cool.

Really? I didn't really think of this as a magnum opus, just a side-fic. In any case, the idea behind it ain't that great, once it's revealed. Still, that last sentence fits; I'm trying in every way possible to make it sound ***-kicker cool.

Wow. o_o Now that’s one hell of a memorable image. Very cool.

Isn't it? Even that's not exactly my idea, though. The boiling brain marks on the skeletons of the victims of the Pompeii incident are no figment of my imagination. I just had to depict it.

The quality of writing in this piece is downright staggering—I’m very interested in reading more of this. Excellent work, here. *salutes*

Well, that's in my narrator voice. Which I won't be using all that much after this. Still, I'll plug in some more samples wherever there's space, don't worry.
 

blackemerald

Well-Known Member
First off, nice original setting you used here. the eruption of the volcano was described in wonderful detail, like this whole prologue was, setting the stage for something worth finding out in the later chapters. The king himself remindes me of those crackpot scientists trying to search or create the impossible, which has made me take an instant shine to him. The breaking of the first barrier seemed a little too easy to me. If I were a mystical entity(what I'm guessing sealed up the orb in the first place) and I wanted to protect the very force of fire itself, I would not make a barrier that could be shattered by a war-horn.

The speck gradually expanded, coming closer and closer, until a flaming leviathan from the heavens was zooming almost parallel to the ground, scattering the low-lying shrubbery like an arrow on water. All of a sudden, the very light surrounding it refracted, warped, and the meteor vanished, leaving but fey dust devils to fade themselves out. Sentience would have allowed the event more attention, but the only interest any had in these primordial times was to live, and all traces of the bizarre occurrence evaporated like snowflakes in a flame. Life went on.

Apart from the beautiful imagry produced in this passage, there's something funny about the fact that a massive leviathan was flying so close to the ground, and everyone's like "so what."

There is nothing wrong today; this is not a first,


I know it was an innocent mistake, but seeing those italic tags ruines the flow of the sentence somewhat.


Before me was a dazzling white human skeleton, deformed horribly by some abominable procedure. The entire torso was fused together in the shape of a thick disc, though some bones seemed hastily arranged, as if the very forest, all of Creation, God, if you will, had made a terrible mistake. Four limbs spread out from the main shape, but even they had been misshapen, stubby and conical, and spread out like a turtle. As I stood gazing at this abomination in all its wretchedness and horror, the most prominent part came before my eyes.

It had a skull, or, at the least, the pitiful shadow of one, and on what seemed to be the forehead, a most disturbing mark could be seen.

A metallic red shape in the form of a cross was embedded into the very bone. I could bear the sight no further.

And here we have another memorable grusome oddity to imagine. good final note to end on.

~B.E
 

SnoringFrog

Well-Known Member
Awesome, the way you wrote this reminded me of another writer that used to be here. I adored most of his work, and I loved this. This sounds like it could be a great fic, so I'll be sticking around.
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
blackemerald: Thanks for the compliments. By the way, sorry, to clip your theory so bluntly, but:

The breaking of the first barrier seemed a little too easy to me. If I were a mystical entity(what I'm guessing sealed up the orb in the first place) and I wanted to protect the very force of fire itself, I would not make a barrier that could be shattered by a war-horn.

Actually, the war-horn didn't do it, the horn just signaled for the horsemen to start stampeding towards the wall. It was the enormous energy, life-force, if you will, of the horses that warped and eventually shattered the barrier. And as for the mysterious entity part, well, everything will be revealed in time.

It'd be too much of a spoiler to explain that, anyways.

Apart from the beautiful imagry produced in this passage, there's something funny about the fact that a massive leviathan was flying so close to the ground, and everyone's like "so what."

Yeah, now that I think of it, that is rather amusing. I thought, since bushes and amoebae don't exactly care about scientific oddities, this would be the obvious outcome.

I know it was an innocent mistake, but seeing those italic tags ruines the flow of the sentence somewhat.

And that's not all the typoes I had. There were many breakings in the lines which got disrupted during the copy-pasting. I'll get to them. Thanks!

SnoringFrog: Oh, the whole thing might go much more differently than you think. Still, the prologue won't be the last of good writing efforts on my part.

EDIT: Note to everybody. I've fixed some typoes and a few paragraph errors, anyone who's curious can look over it again. Hopefully, this version has a better feel to it.
 
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IceKing

Sexorific!
The skies erupted in full, terrifying wrath.

A tumult of confused mists obscured the troubled heavens, sending out ragged, ephemeral white threads that lead great rumblings out of a Greek epic. Noxious gases ascended like fleeing devils, byproduct of life’s stunted attempts to exist in the maimed earth. The faint sun gave little relief to the parched microbes, reduced to the simplest form in an attempt to coexist with their environment. Today, genesis was chaos.

Whee, nice way to start it off. Your one of those big vocab guys, I see

leaving but fey dust devils to fade themselves out

Fey o.o?

79 AD
Pompeii

OOOH! Here we go!

That day, Mt. Vesuvius revealed his identity in full, wrathful glory. Choking torrents of ash blew across the land, suffocating all in its way as it layered everything uncovered. Black hail showered the panic-stricken multitudes with enough size and speed to kill. Out into the distance, a dark, unforgiving leviathan vomited glowing red fluid and coughed out miasmas of poisonous gases. Yet, there was one instrument of his wrath more terrible than all.

Titanic walls of blazing smoke and ash ravaged the already obliterated land, converting earth and flesh and bone alike to black dust. If any could reach their other side alive, they would see a darkling landscape, with everything that once gave testament to life and color reduced to that accursed ash. If luck would be particularly uncooperative, they might stumble upon a less subtle reminder: an actual human skeleton, sometimes still holding clinging pieces of scorched flesh, and with very visible markings of actual organs melting – evaporating - from the heat.

Holy ****, dude. You're friggin awesome. I especially loved the last detail with organs evaporating. Isnt Miasmas of Poison Gas a bit repetive since a miasma is a poison gas?

It began as another of his antics: apparently, the Orb of Fire, one of four that could control various forces of nature, rested within a secret, complex tunnel system underneath a certain mountain in Greece. As always, he rushed to his ‘masterfully discerned’ spot with a large, expensive army, eager to gain his prize, and upon reaching the place, straight into the heart of Mt. Vesuvius, he began digging, of all things. His brilliance was unsurpassed. Perhaps this was the reason for the utter astonishment of most when the following events unfolded.

Ahh, the quest for the magical orb. Those always go horribly wrong

“According to the lore of the local folk, Your Majesty, there is a legend of four barriers that, once crossed, would give the fortunate one unending power. The first barrier, I believe, is one only crossed by “he whose heart beats with the very rhythm of the mountain,” or a multitude of such creatures. They say it is an actual species, and not an individual person. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Seems rather...convenient that he knows this

Soon enough, a large, brazen-throated war-horn did its work, and a thunderous storm of confused bodies roared down the cavern. They met the barrier; it bent under its immense load, and, with a rebounding, metallic screech, it tore asunder and shriveled into nothingness.

Didn't expect that o_o

A metallic red shape in the form of a cross was embedded into the very bone. I could bear the sight no further.

Good lord I have no idea where this is going to go



Excellent writing skills, Seraphim (I read your sig). I'm not usually a fan for the big vocab, science fiction type of writing, but I am a huge fan of writing styles that captivate you, and this definitely did that. Loved your writing style and your descriptions, they were absolutely positively amazing. …I need some vocab tips, as you can see.

As for the actual plot, it’s pretty interesting, tying in real life events and then fantastical elements such as the search for the Fire Orb. I wonder how pokemon are going to play a role, I was expecting to see that with the whole breaking of the first barrier. I expect that everything went wrong because they didn’t break the barriers properly.

Great read, I’ll be around for more.
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
...

I didn't expect the whole thing to be this popular!

IceKing:


Err... could you explain that a bit? I didn't get that part.

Holy ****, dude. You're friggin awesome. I especially loved the last detail with organs evaporating. Isnt Miasmas of Poison Gas a bit repetive since a miasma is a poison gas?

Heh, I knew the boiling organs would draw attention. And yeah, you're right, looks like I'll have to fix that phrase.

Good lord I have no idea where this is going to go

Well, I'd say you have no idea, but I guess you said it for me.

This is the most Pokemon-related part of the prologue, by the way.

Excellent writing skills, Seraphim (I read your sig). I'm not usually a fan for the big vocab, science fiction type of writing, but I am a huge fan of writing styles that captivate you, and this definitely did that. Loved your writing style and your descriptions, they were absolutely positively amazing. …I need some vocab tips, as you can see.

Thanks for the compliments. As I said, the whole thing might be ranging towards normal in the next few chapters. And yet, it might not. Stay tuned!

I wonder how pokemon are going to play a role, I was expecting to see that with the whole breaking of the first barrier. I expect that everything went wrong because they didn’t break the barriers properly.

I can see the truth is going to really surprise you, there.

Verasa erticus ist...
Pyroken Serafoculus
 

Kiyohime

Well-Known Member
I actually did read this yesterday, but as I said, was too blown away to type up a coherent review. XP

I love your descriptive vocabulary, especially when you described the beginnings. And I had to chuckle at the oblivious king threatening to give Christopher a demerit, not realizing that he was about to be vaporized. XP Good stuff.

The skeleton was what jarred me the most--that put such a creepy image into my head. >___< It reminded me of HP Lovecraft, actually. Your style is a lot like his. ^^

What can I say? I know it's too little, too late, but I will try to have a more...sastiying review for the first chapter. ^^;
 

Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
Kyohime:

I actually did read this yesterday, but as I said, was too blown away to type up a coherent review. XP

*Falls off chair* I blew away the writer of Aeon? Are you sure I'm not dreaming?

The skeleton was what jarred me the most--that put such a creepy image into my head. >___< It reminded me of HP Lovecraft, actually. Your style is a lot like his. ^^

You'll see a lot of mutated human images, don't worry. As for the second part, really? I haven't read his work, but I have heard of him.

What can I say? I know it's too little, too late, but I will try to have a more...sastiying review for the first chapter. ^^;

That's fine. Hey, at least you read, and you reviewed.

Please don't torture me, but the majority of chapters in this story might be aggravatingly short. They yet might not be, but I can't guarantee anything. Sorry...


Gray Fear

CHAPTER 1

I roved past the derelict mountains of steel and the living-quarters in their final stages of decay, and the sour-faced residents in their ancient vehicles, giving me a disapproving look before they began yet another stretch in the rat-race of their lives, and I wondered as I hadn’t ever before. I wondered about the purpose of life and of the tiny, insignificant bubbles that held every small speck of it, how they were doomed to roam aimlessly about, subject to the world’s meanest whims, knowing that if they attempted to interfere, the flame of their lives would be snuffed out like the candles in the houses all around me, preparing to retire for the dark night.

Life was nothing.

And me? What was I but yet another vial holding yet another drop of drab existence? Ah, but perhaps I was different.

Let me explain. My life has been that of an outcast, you see; a disturber of the peace, a freak. I had always been a pyromaniac. Many had said that it was unnatural, and that only trouble would come out of it, but how can one not be mesmerized by the passion burn of flame as it raises its arms to the heavens? Fire destroys, but it also renews. It consumes the old, tough trunks of the ancient, and gives rise to tender shoots with the ash it leaves behind.

Ah, but I digress.

In addition to my obsession, I had also an appearance which could cause anyone suspicion. I had brilliant golden-red hair, an oddity around my lands, and a positively canine appearance. Despite people’s opinions, I preferred keeping my long, bushy hair in a spiky mane around my face, and my ears were very triangular.

One might object that a simple appearance and mindset wouldn’t be the object of the suspicion, even hatred, of an entire society, and there, they would not be wrong. There was, in fact, another reason for their disquiet, with much less subtlety and much more danger.

To put it short, I was a thermokinetic.

I could set any body part on fire with mere thought, allow it to spread throughout my body, and emerge from the inferno unscathed. I could inflame any substance with the snap of a finger; I could turn a hoard of priceless treasures into a great pillar of thunderous flame. I had the ability to raise matter to unthinkable temperatures. Once, I had even breathed fire in a roar of feral lethality.

I loathed it.

Since my first discovery at the age of ten, I had trained myself to contain my feelings and consequently my powers, but every once in a while, in a frenzy of uncontrollable pain or anger, I would allow my abilities to get the better of me; I would commit a mistake which I would rue for the rest of my life. And this was my curse, the reason for my exile.

There was, actually, a single incident which had been the main cause. It was during my teenage years. I was still quite harassed for my abilities, but those were the days where my consequences went no further than my social life. I remember the event with painful vividness.


I was walking back from school in my agitated pace, brooding as I always did upon why it was me and me only who had to suffer this, when I heard the nearby chatter of the neighbourhood idiots, Pete and Karl. They had an obsession with harassing me as much as possible, so I quickly ducked into a side alley –

I wasn’t quick enough! Two lumbering giants came at me, full force, giving not-so-subtle hints of my mental stability and my human status.

“Hey, look, it’s Freak Boy, Karl! C’mon, let’s make this the worst day of his life!”

I felt the bite of a swinging punch, and suddenly, beyond my control, the flame of my pride flared up.

How dare they touch me, those idiotic brutes, guffawing like savages! They will pay for this, I’ll make sure of it –

“Look, Pete, he’s just sitting there! Told you he was cracked – “

They will pay for what they are doing, they will burn in an inferno, they will feel the greatest pain they have felt it their lives –

“Heh, heh, let’s hurt him - ”

They will feel the lethal bite of my –

In an instant, my powers burst out in terrible fury, and the entire alley was filled with the greatest fire the world had ever known. Giant arms spiraled in their ascent to the skies, heating the very concrete to temperatures which surely only the deepest wombs of the earth had felt before. The bricks of the nearby houses melted into a semisolid mix of scalding magma, and joined the chaos of madly dancing flames, their touch enough to vaporize any substance known to man. A great vortex of hellish fire and molten rock tore through the street, delivering the final end of the long-dead town, leaving, at the most, a sea of flashing cinders that stung like a swarm of locusts. The horror lasted an eternity, yet, in an instant, it was gone.

Only I was left amongst the scalding embers and the hardening lava, lost in the dead quiet of the calm after the storm. I was consumed by a deep disquiet of horror and despair and a hatred of my existence as I drifted to unconsciousness.


Since that day, I had ever been treated as an outlaw, and, from then on, I dwelt in the darkness like some wretched worm.

My wearied stroll down memory lane was interrupted by the high-pitched buzz of a siren off into the distance. It took some time before I restructured my wits long enough to read the signs: I had obviously been reported to the local (half-corrupted) police, and it seemed to be that the police was on a full search, something which was only used in the most severe of cases. I ascertained two things: one, that the authorities were attempting to make a final blow, so that I would either be caught, or my “menace” would be passed off to another town; and two, that they would not stop until every atom of every nook and cranny within a half-mile radius was uncovered by human (or, to be specific, their own) eyes. I would have to leave immediately, and eke out an existence elsewhere.

I snatched a few day’s worth of food and a water bottle from the nearby decrepit stalls, filled the bottle at an infected public drinking stall, and then headed for the nearest border, past the ramshackle (ghettoes) apartments, past the run-down hospital and the overgrown public park, through the forest that was the backyard of the vacant/haunted mansion, and reached a fairly low, concrete wall with a few stretches of barbed wire put up carelessly on the top. I deftly lifted myself up and over the wall, and I was finally out of the town and all its oppressed depression.

It took me a while for the full ramifications to register in my mind.

At last –

I was free! Free as the wind that liberated crypts from their musty darkness, free as the birds that sang gaily on their perches, free forever! I could simply totter into a faraway town, give an alias as a refugee, and I could finally live like a normal human being, liberated of my reputation. I would redouble my mental training, climb from the meanest custodian careers to a fairly tolerable job, anything, and, for the first time in my life, I would be a human being.

The very thought made me ecstatic.

I ran joyfully through the woods bordering my former town, oblivious to the fact that I was prancing more on all fours that otherwise, and, for an eternal moment, I was carefree, unburdened by the fear of being heard, unaffected by the thoughts of the miseries gone past or the labours to come; I was simply a sprite of the forest, destructive, perhaps, wrathful, perhaps, but equally joyful, and remarkably caring every once in a while. Impossibly, wonderfully, I understood the meaning of existence as I had never before –

The leaves of a nearby bush fluttered, and a definitive rustle reached my euphoric ears. Reflexes heightened, I froze, still as stone, quiet as the dead.

Out of the bush came a stick of a man with unkempt brown hair, almost electric green eyes, and glasses as thick as the skulls of Karl and Pete. He looked positively shaken, and the main of my fears of being discovered by the authorities vanished into thin air.

He raised an arm of his tattered, full-sleeved, plain white shirt, and pointed a shaking hand at me. His voice had a hint of fear, but conviction seemed to overtake the most of his apprehension.

“You, you’re Arcan Dobel, aren’t you?” he said.

I had no plan of allowing him such an important piece of information as my name, but the odd thing continued anyway.

“I’ve been looking for you. Will you come with me? We aren’t going anywhere near that town; don’t be alarmed.”

I had half a mind of retorting back. I, come with him! I was going wherever I wished, and he would go his own way, granted that it did not lead anywhere within the vicinity of my former town’s police center. This was a stranger; orphans learnt more quickly of the dangers of strangers, in any case. But perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. Or behind.

“Listen, sir,” I replied, as politely as possible in my annoyance, “you do not understand my situation. I must leave this area at once, and I would prefer that you do not hinder me.”

The man was persistent, I had to admit. “Then I can come with you, wherever you’re going. Please, I have a very good proposition for you!”

This was getting too far. “I am not interested in prepositions; I simply wish to get out of here. Now get out of my way, or I’ll have to use force.” To accentuate this, I raised up to my full, intimidating height, and tried as hard as I could to describe without words exactly what ‘force’ would mean. Of course, I would never even think of using my powers.

“But let me explain, at least;” – at this I made ready to make some sort of frightening pose on him – “you hate your pyrokinesis, don’t you?”

At this, I froze. How did he know?

The stranger continued, noticing that he had gained my interest.

“I’m Robert Berkely, former scientist at the Institute for Astrophysics and Particle Sciences. I have a theory on what is causing this widespread phenomenon – yes, there are others like you, and they are linked – and I believe I can fix your problem… with your help, of course.”

My ears almost visibly perked up as he said this.

“I’ll explain the main of it later, but for now, we need to reach a safe place. We have about half an hour before the search cars reach this area, and, as you definitely know, we cannot waste one second of it. So, the question is, can I come with you? You might be missing out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

I studied him long and hard, noting the fact that he used ‘a’ instead of ‘an’ before ‘once-in-a-lifetime’, and a lot more besides, and, finally, I said –

“You have to understand, accompanying me will not be heroic, or luxurious, or good in any manner. I live a hard life – “

His reply was curt. “I understand completely. My life is no better; I’ll prove a hardy companion.”

An unspoken agreement seemed to come between the two of us, and, from then on, we had a special bond, one which seldom went past dangerous terms, yet proved to be enduring beyond thought if put to the test. It was not of friends, or enemies, or anything in between, but a completely different acquaintance which few could describe. I could not, in any case.

The two of us, wary companions, moved with surprising agility through the pine-trees and past the ponds to safer lands, and word or sight of us quickly vanished, memory soon following. We would be the stuff of fireside tales, of fantastic doggerel, but never any more. At least, not to this secluded corner of the world.
 
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Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Right away, I like Arcan—that guy’s just awesome. I love his abilities, and I also like the way that he brings to mind a certain creature, what with his name, his appearance, and the nature of his power. Very cool. I also like that he doesn’t have an inflated ego over his abilities—that kind of power (not to mention those feral looks) would, indeed, be quite the burden, something that could make life quite difficult, as it has done for him; so, appropriately, he knows not to take it too lightly or let it go to his head.

Highlights:

I could set any body part on fire with mere thought, allow it to spread throughout my body, and emerge from the inferno unscathed. I could inflame any substance with the snap of a finger; I could turn a hoard of priceless treasures into a great pillar of thunderous flame. I had the ability to raise matter to unthinkable temperatures. Once, I had even breathed fire in a roar of feral lethality.

Oh dang. o_o Yes, that’s a cool power, and that it’s spoken of so eloquently makes it seem even cooler still.

In an instant, my powers burst out in terrible fury, and the entire alley was filled with the greatest fire the world had ever known. Giant arms spiraled in their ascent to the skies, heating the very concrete to temperatures which surely only the deepest wombs of the earth had felt before. The bricks of the nearby houses melted into a semisolid mix of scalding magma, and joined the chaos of madly dancing flames, their touch enough to vaporize any substance known to man. A great vortex of hellish fire and molten rock tore through the street, delivering the final end of the long-dead town, leaving, at the most, a sea of flashing cinders that stung like a swarm of locusts. The horror lasted an eternity, yet, in an instant, it was gone.

Only I was left amongst the scalding embers and the hardening lava, lost in the dead quiet of the calm after the storm. I was consumed by a deep disquiet of horror and despair and a hatred of my existence as I drifted to unconsciousness.

And there’s the fire in action. An awesome moment. I especially like the comparison of cinders to locusts.


The revelation that there are others out there with peculiar powers was one I found intriguing—I’m quite interested in possibly getting to see more of them. At any rate, great job once again. ^^
 
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Praxiteles

Friendly POKéMON.
Sike Saner:

Right away, I like Arcan—that guy’s just awesome. I love his abilities,

Whee. I thought I'd get a few Arcan fans. Well, I fear I did go a bit too far in regard to his abilities, but let's just see; perhaps Arcani - Arcan (forget what I just said!) does match well enough.

I also like the way that he brings to mind a certain creature, what with his name, his appearance, and the nature of his power.

I'm not sure if you noticed, but you just touched upon a veery important plot point...

I also like that he doesn’t have an inflated ego over his abilities—that kind of power (not to mention those feral looks) would, indeed, be quite the burden, something that could make life quite difficult, as it has done for him; so, appropriately, he knows not to take it too lightly or let it go to his head.

We-he-hell, he's learnt from an early age about the dangers of his powers, really. He hates the very thought of them; he hasn't ever thought of using the powers to his advantage (or being proud of them), because the only thing that society has taught him is that he'd be forever shunned if he showed his powers to anyone else, poor thing.

Oh dang. o_o Yes, that’s a cool power, and that it’s spoken of so eloquently makes it seem even cooler still.

Oh, yeah. Incidentally, the description style seems to have been inspired by Lesstat's description of his powers in Tale of the Body Theif by Anne Rice. Though I'm not sure what exactly goes on in my mind at times...

And there’s the fire in action. An awesome moment. I especially like the comparison of cinders to locusts.

Hee hee, I decided that the biggest and most catastrophic mistake of Arcani - of Arcan would warrant a good lot of description. Glad to see it worked, hee hee hee!!!

The revelation that there are others out there with peculiar powers was one I found intriguing—I’m quite interested in possibly getting to see more of them. At any rate, great job once again. ^^

Oh, you've already seen another one - I think I'll shut my trap!
 

SnoringFrog

Well-Known Member
Very nice chapter. Fire's always a good thing like this, and Arcan seems like a hcaracter I'll really like in the future. Great job.
 
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