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Khamja: Chronicles from Within the Shadows (Prologue)

Started by Eternal248, October 08, 2010, 10:59:11 pm

Eternal

Greetings, folks! This project is one I have been meaning to do for some time now; a story. Of late, I've been lamenting the decline in my writing ability, and as we all know, the only way to get better at something is to do it. Thus, I've decided to use this as an opportunity to write a 13-part story based around the dealings of the shadowy organization in FFT/FFTA2 known as Khamja. I by no means guarantee that this is good writing at all, and much of the writing is done off the top of my head following a loose outline of what I want each chapter to be about. Further, I have no guarantee that I'll actually finish this story at all. This is mostly something I'm doing on the side, since I have my FFVI and FFT patches to worry about as well, but I hope you all enjoy what I do write!

Background info:

-The story arc takes place overall between the end of the Fifty Year War, and the events at Riovanes in FFT with Vormav.

-Khamja is seen in FFT as Kamyuja (retranslated as Khamja in War of the Lions), and again in FFTA2, where the leader of Khamja- Illua- and her henchman were the primary villains, attempting to open the Rift in order to summon the monster Neukhia with the powers of the Gran Grimoire, first seen in Vagrant Story (FFTA2 chronologically).

-The Prologue is fairly short, and it doesn't necessarily focus on the main characters entirely (the view will shift between characters during each chapter. Some chapters will focus on Algus, others Rafa, others even will focus on Barrington) and goes into detail about the state of Goug after the Fifty Year War. Thus, it's more of a history lesson than anything else, however, it does introduce the main characters- Ren and Louise.

-Characters you should expect to see from FFT: Algus, Barrington, Rafa, Malak, Queen Louveria, Vormav, Barich

So, for now, here's the Prologue to Khamja! Please, since it's been forever-and-a-half since I've written anything in great detail, I welcome constructive criticism and advice.

~Prologue: The Beginning of the End~

The Mechanical City of Goug lie on the eastern shores of the Bugross Sea, rewarding those citizens
each twilight with a view of a sunset unparalleled anywhere else. The city sprawled across the
shoreline, sprinkled about with various smithies and forges. Rare were the ones whose craft was
handed down from the extinct Moogles. Rarer were the ones who didn't gouge their customers.

The Lithul Forge was one of those very elite forges that took pride in every arm and armor crafted,
and as such, it earned the reputation of being one of Goug's most successful forges. Focusing
primarily in Mythril ore, the forge was family owned and operated for generations. Old wives tales
state that the Forge even operated during the legendary Cataclysm. Such was the nature of things in
that family- even as the world crumbled about them, the Lassels would continue tempering their
blades and shining their chainmail.

Each day was the same in and out. Eudora Lassel would gather her mining gear and head to the North
Ward, where the mineshafts were. The lord of the family, Brionac Lassel, gathered his lunch and tools
for the day and head to the market, where he would attempt to sell the lesser quality goods to peddlers
and soldiers. These lower quality goods were exceptional by any smith's standards, but Brionac was
no standard smith. These lower quality armaments were forged by his apprentice and son, Ren Lassel,
day in and day out.

"How's young Ren, Brion?" The pot-bellied merchant asked. The merchant was one of Brionac's regular
customers throughout the years. The two were good friends, finding a familiar existence with each
other. Both led mundane lives, going about their lives with minor infamy among their kind, and no
Gil nor banner to show for it. In this, they share a familiar pain of having kin who do not wish to
follow the family trade.

"He's as he always is. Talented, but less than ambitious. It as though he rebukes his family's
profession!" Brionac exclaimed, handing over a quiver of silver-tipped arrows.

"Eh, my boy's the very same. Says he wants to be a chocobo breeder! Hah! An aspiration worthy
of a knave, I say!" The merchant laughed.

Chocobo travel was about the only business booming in these rough days after the Fifty Years' War.
Due to the high amount of soldiers sent to Goug after the war, employment was hard to find, and even
those who had jobs had little money. The local inn and church were the only places to find employment,
and that was only if you wanted to be a guard. Not even the Church of Glabados was immune to knavery
these days- the mythril candlesticks and silver rosaries found within were common targets for rogues
to fence. The inn's food was any brigand's mark.

Brionac finished his transaction and headed to the forge, which was conveniently located near the
mines. This gave him a fair amount of business- tempering pickaxes, refining mythril ore that the
miners found, work of that nature. Despite the amount of miners, business dwindled by the day.

The local economists took a variety of stances of why the economy was less than admirable in Goug.
A few thought it was because the War was over, and the need for weapons and armor with it. Brionac
agreed with them. Peace was at long last upon Ivalice, and peace was every craftman's enemy. So
long as people were killing each other, there'd be no loss for customers!

Brionac began his daily work, ever awaiting when his son would decide to awaken and come to work.
He had long given up waking his son up everyday, only for both he and Ren to be an hour late. Brionac
often found that he worked faster- and harder- on his own, without his apprentice. Brionac feared
more than a lack of warhungry soldiers. He also feared that the family duty of blacksmithing would
fall upon his death. Afterall, Ren was by no means a blacksmith, much less ambitious. Louise was a
gentle girl, far too delicate to place in the mines, or behind an anvil.

The sun rose and fell that day, Ren not so much as visiting his father at the forge. Rather, Ren
was with Louise all day, observing people in the city square.

"Ren, have you heard about the clansmen who have recently come to town? I heard they slayed the Midgard
Zolom that was attacking the travellers in the Zigolis Swamp!" Louise said excitedly. The hunters
always fascinated her. They ranged from bowmen to swordsmen to mages to rogues. Exciting were the
days when fetes were held for these bronzed warriors.

"So I hear. When last we travelled the swamp, we were besieged by a pack of poltergeists. Would
that we carried none of those Phoenix feathers, we'd have joined their ranks!" Ren replied.
Although he was exaggerating, the amount of undead in the Swamp had recently surged with the
amount of deaths in the Fifty Years' War. The local apothecaries often had trouble carrying the
blessed feathers, much to Brionac's envy. A single touch of the feather would banish the undead back
to their plane. Brionac lamented that he was no apothecary. Of late, the Plague had surged within the
larger cities such as Goug, and thus were apothecaries still a necessity.

"Father had wanted me to visit the forge today." Ren stated.

"And yet here you sit with me instead, wasting away the day?" Louise interrogated.

"Keeping you company does more good than idly sitting by in a hot, stench-ridden forge. No customers,
regardless. Just father going on about his childhood, and the stories grandfather would tell him. No
arms to be sold, no Gil to be made." It was the same discussion every week. Complain about the forge,
complain about the lack of income, complain about everything.

"Deep down, I think father grows lonely down at the forge. You're his only son, his pride and joy.
It wouldn't harm you to try and learn the family craft." Louise often tired of these discussions, but
she knew that it would only hurt Ren to keep it bottled up.

"I am no smith- my name does not make me what I am. I choose my own path!" Ren realized he was raising
his voice, and a few curious onlookers gaped at him. Ren looked down, embarassed.

"Sorry, sister." Ren paused. He quickly decided to change the subject.

"What then do you think of us soon moving to the valley? Life here is dull. Life as a valley
blacksmith would be non-existent." Ren said. Ren hopped onto the nearby stone fountain
and dipped his hand in the cool, clear water. Louise joined his side.

"This town is milked dry of its Gil, and the taxes increase evermore by the day.
If we continue to live here, we'd soon be living in the Lowtown gutters!" Louise explained.

"I thought about joining the City Guard. Staying here and catching criminals, y'know. I think I'd
be doing a lot more good than making weapons." Ren stated. The city guards were hardly good people.
They often extorted the poorer merchants, taking food- or Gil- for free. Although there were a few
good guards, most of them just didn't do anything- and got paid for it.

"You underrate yourself, brother. The time spent as a fledgling guardsman would better
be spent at the Academy in Gariland." Louise said cheerfully.

"You flatter me, sister. With what would I get in? My good looks and charming personality?" Ren replied,
laughing. Louise shrugged.

"But brother, you're equally lacking in both of those!"

"Sister, it's not nice to speak ill of your elder, you know!" Ren joked.

The two laughed. The hours seemed to roll by as the two walked about the city. The afternoon ended,
and the sun began to fall. Ren pointed to the sky.

"Sundown is upon us. Shall we?"

"Yeah. We should go to the docks." Louise said.

The two had done this nearly-daily tradition for years now. This was partially the reason Ren hated
working at the forge. The forge's workhours were until after sundown, and the view of the sunset
from the forge was nearly nonexistent.

Despite their moderately decent upbringing, Ren and Louise both felt as if their lives had little
meaning. The son and daughter of lowborn laborers were never going to be nobles, however much
they endeavored. It was this daily ritual of gazing at the orange-hued sunset that gave each of
them the hope they needed to move on to tomorrow.

The land of Ivalice had thought to find new hope after war's end. Ordallia and Ivalice now knew peace, and many
families once broken up by the war had found themselves together once more. Despite this, the returning
soldiers often had nightmares of war's horrors, and many went insane. As many returning chivalrous
warriors as there were, there were as many less honorable groups forming, particularly in Goug. Groups
of disenfranchised miners- losing work to the returning, cheaper veterans of the War- formed, often
in hateful groups who would assault veterans on sight. Tensions were high in this new Goug, a Goug of
violence and poverty.

Goug was not alone in this new Ivalice. The large cities of Gariland, Igros, and Zeltennia also faced
disgruntled veterans. Hope was low and life not worth living for many of these men. The guardsmen,
short in their number, did their best to quell the uprisings, only to meet further resistance from
the rebels, plotting rebellion. For those not losing any to war's horror, hope sprang from a font eternal.
But most were not so lucky, particularly in the Mechanical City.

Despite this, hope bloomed within the city's youth.

As the two youths gazed upon the sunset, each secretly wishing for a better life, they were unaware
of just how soon their wishes would come true. The craft of wishmaking is one of trickery and deceit.
Though pure were the youth's wishes for a better life- a life of meaning and interest- the stars that
night were crossed, and the wishes they make this night do indeed change their lives forever...

Next Chapter: Aries Stellazio- It's a Hard Life
  • Modding version: PSX & WotL
"You, no less human than we? Ha! Now there's a beastly thought. You've been less than we from the moment your baseborn father fell upon your mother in whatever gutter saw you sired! You've been chattel since you came into the world drenched in common blood!"
  • Discord username: eternal248#1817

Mari

First line, Goug isn't multiple cities so "Goug lies on"*
Not sure about this next line, in the second last paragraph - Not couting the one liner - "hope sprang from a font eternal" It's a confusing line, to me at least. I'm not exactly sure what you're saying.

As for the story writing, it seems to being going fairly well, with one big complaint from me.
Your story telling style changed a bit too much but only in a couple parts.
The 7th paragraph, starting with "Chocobo travel" switched up the most.
You went from explaining the setting and story to actually talking to the reader. "The local inn and church were the only places to find employment, and that was only if you wanted to be a guard."
Maybe instead of saying "was only if you", you could try "was only if one" or something of the sort.
Try re-reading the whole story with this in mind and you may find some similar situations as I've just explained! To a much lesser extent, of course.

The story is going well so far, if you're up for suggestions I'd say be sure to add in as much darkness such as the game has. Loyalty, betrayal, lies and greed worked very very well in FFT and I think the same would apply to this story.

Good luck continuing!
  • Modding version: Other/Unknown
As the puppeteer pulls His strings,
The fragile doll spreads Her wings.
To dance a ballet as He directs
That is the Curse of the Marionette.

Controlled by a hand far, far above,
Forbidden to care, forbidden to love.
Forever shall She mime what She cannot know,
Until the day She loses her illusory glow.

Propped up on a stilt where wine once stood,
The Marionette is, once more, only wood.
Her glossy eyes have lost their shine,
Her silken hair, turned to twine.

What a fate awaits the poor little doll,
Who dances and runs but cannot stand at all.
And the puppeteer is applauded at the end of every show,
But the audience's joyous response the doll can never know.

I am but a doll on an endless stage,
Dancing for others whilst I slowly age.
My puppeteer sits far above,
Hiding His face behind a white glove.

And when I have aged to nothing but wood,
I will be tucked away in a closet where a doll once stood.
Then, as I gather dust and the world passes by,
I will be forgotten by the vast, blue sky.

Eternal

Thanks for the advice! I think the issue is that I wrote the first half at one point and the second half another day.

And yes, this story will be rather dark. Although the effects of the story won't be as grand as FFT was, this is more of a day-to-day affair about the trials these two youths face, and how much it changes them. It's going to throw around some concepts found in Vagrant Story and FFTA2, so for those who've played the entirity of the Ivalice Alliance, they'll be sure to find some enjoyment in the various references. :D
  • Modding version: PSX & WotL
"You, no less human than we? Ha! Now there's a beastly thought. You've been less than we from the moment your baseborn father fell upon your mother in whatever gutter saw you sired! You've been chattel since you came into the world drenched in common blood!"
  • Discord username: eternal248#1817

Lijj

The guardsmen,
short in their number, did their best to quell the uprisings, only to meet further resistance from
the rebels, plotting rebellion"
The last of that sentence-,plotting rebellion- seems redundant  .

I actually liked the term "font eternal"

Overall it sheds realness into the setting and I could see it well- so good work.
  • Modding version: PSX

Kill_Bones

Quote from: "Lijj"The last of that sentence-,plotting rebellion- seems redundant
I think he was making a reference to the grammar fails in the PSX version of FFT. Nice story! I would love to see more of this.


Full credit to Mayhem over at RPGuild for my sig

"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."  

-Abraham Lincoln

Quote from: Dome on February 19, 2011, 04:36:46 am
Sorry Eternal, I don't have balls....