Eternal Heavens
Authors forward: I warned you all; I'm going to meander around a
lot. Trust me though, all lose ends will come together...though
I expect if they don't I'll be beat 'til I'm black and blue. Heh.
Now I'll beg for C&C (hey it works for Morgan Hudson, sorry dude,
just had to point that out. ^_-)!!! PLEASE OH PLEASE CORRECT ME!!!
^_^ I'm at kthardin@yahoo.com , so feel free! ^_^
Gathering of the Children
-Vengeance Come to Me
<Opening Theme: Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns and Roses>
<BGM: Involution - Dark Project>
Among the greatest mysteries of life is the one that
states: looks can and are almost always deceiving. Which should
lead one to wonder why we are given such a sense, if it quite
often feeds us such false information. That answer is actually
very simple.
It is not the site that is false, but our own perception of
it, that leads said site to be false. Take for example, The
Hall.
The Hall, for such was the name given to the place by those
who had built it, stood silent; save for the rustling of cloaks,
and shifting of clothing as those present fidgeted, shifted
positions, or even walked about on some errand or another. Not a
word was spoken aloud; barely any were whispered. Most simply
sat in the tiered seats of the hall. Many of them glanced at
each other in barely disguised hatred. Some others noting the
glances among their neighbors and making plans to take advantage
of the situation for whatever reason, be it for alliances, or for
any treachery that might be to their advantage. Still others
typed on data pads on the tables provided before them, checking
on various reports, issuing orders, and even sending written
messages to loved ones. Other forms of communication were also
being employed...from runners to subspace comms, from semaphore
to interdimensional warping. Though perhaps one would think
direct mind to mind communication would be by far the fastest and
most useful. Possible misunderstandings - such as, I am going to
kill you in ways that will make your descendants feel it for the
next 12 generations - would be avoided, as the meanings and
feelings would be made perfectly clear; and the lag time between
such messages would be absolutely zero. Certainly all in the
room were capable of simple telepathy and more besides, but not
one would dare power up even a whiff in a room filled with people
ready to kill each other. Despite the look and feel of a more
organized, and less messy Wall Street stock exchange, this large
group of people made the cutthroat economics of that particular
institution look like the play of only a few day old kittens.
There was enough hatred and instilled anger, much of which had
become genetic by this point, that were anyone to even think
about gathering even the minute amounts of energy necessary to
send even the shortest of transmissions that one would wind up
contracting himself a rather bad case of perished as weapons of
nearly every conceivable type were shoved through all his vital
organs in alpha-numeric order.
Needless to say, this is something most would choose to
avoid if they could.
Even if that were not enough to cause the stupidest soul to
quake with fear at such a fate, a simple look to the north end of
the hall, where the tiered seating trailed off and a throne,
which took up the entire north end, was placed. Not so much the
throne itself, though it's beauty was awe-inspiring, as it was
fashioned from hyper dense, multicolored crystal that spread out
from the obsidian seat, perfectly situated on the floor right in
the center of the northern wall. The light from the suns, that
filtered through the skylight above reflected off the crystal in
ways that made their colors seem to shift and move all over it's
wide expanse, and doubly so when both suns were high in the sky.
Truly a site to behold for anyone, yet again this wonder was not
what caused the fear that would have cowed even the most insane
of spirits.
It was the man who sat upon that throne. The one who
occasionally glanced up from his own data pad and, in that
glance, looked at everyone in that room with eyes that literally
promised that one day he would kill everyone in that room with
his bare hands...slowly, that evoked the terror that kept those
in the hall from displaying even the least of their natural
abilities. For it was known also, that the man, who was named
Emperor (for who else would have the gal to sit on such a grand
seat?), had the power to do such a thing, and quite possibly all
those in the hall combined would not have the power to stop him.
Indeed, he was known to be the strongest of their race. The fact
that there had been others stronger before him, one of which was
his very own father who had killed the first Emperor in single
combat, was of no consequence now. All that was relevant was
that the man sitting on that throne was the one who was now the
most powerful of all...and more than enough to eliminate them in
any case.
Strange, many thought, that the Emperor of their entire
race would seemingly hold nearly all of them in murderous
contempt. The way he glanced up every so often ever since he was
elevated to his august rank many centuries ago, had only gotten
steadily worse; and still chilled each and every one of them to
the bone when he did let his eyes rove the various leaders,
military commanders, delegates, representatives, and what have
you that actually ran his empire and all the clans, families, and
other associations therein.
"WILL THE EMPORER OF ALL TETRAN CONCENT TO RECEIVE THE
HEIR?"
A startled silence followed the announcement as all
activity ceased, and all eyes turned toward the large ceremonial
doors that covered the southern end of the hall. Like the
throne, it too was constructed of the same multicolored crystal
and took up the entire expanse of the southern wall, and the
tiered seating tapered off before it reached said entrance.
The man on the throne stood, it seemed he spoke barely
above a whisper, yet no one could deny that they heard the words
he spoke or the power that was carried with them when he said
"Let the Heir come forth."
The doors on the south wall began to lumber open
soundlessly, and impossibly without mechanics, for they were too
large for simple physical strength to be used without destroying
the door. Still no one did so much as touch the shimmering
brilliance around it, and still it opened outward of the room.
Within moments it was revealed that it was indeed a
solitary man that was causing this to happen. He stood, with his
arms stretched out before him, opening wider as the door
moved...a force that shimmered and warped the air emanating from
his arms and surrounding the doors. His body shimmered in a soft
colored orange light as the power continued to flow from to open
the doors with the utmost care. A most interesting effect;
considering the reflective property of his blue colored full body
armor.
A strange thing happened to those in the room then. Where
before everyone had their own agenda, now all combined looked
upon this newcomer with a mutual respect and, in some cases,
adoration. All put aside their hatred, their anger, and their
imperative to kill their neighbor and practically genuflected in
the Heir's presence, as he walked through those massive doors
with a small entourage in tow.
The aura remained around him, as he used it to smooth back
his long blue-black hair and close the doors behind him in a far
less melodramatic fashion.
This man was not pretty in any way shape or form, but his
power did not lie with his looks. He carried his power with
shear force of will; he radiated authority and charisma in such
mass quantities that one could not help, but give him the respect
he demanded.
He could be walking into The Hall right now, naked as the
day he was born, and still command the very same obeisance.
Well, maybe not the same, as it would be likely that the
females present would be in various stages of fainting, but then
again that could be considered a form of err...respect. Maybe.
Quite a number of the female persuasion were almost at that
point regardless of his clothing. Still it was a strange thing
that when he came here this time. All his attention was directed
at the seat of power itself; his face set in an expression of
cold inscrutability.
Considering he was smiles and nods during previous visits,
this was indeed a cause for some concern. It seemed that the
Heir had bad news for the Throne.
All wondered what it could be. Was the empire being
invaded? Had perhaps the Juraians or some other empire declared
openly hostile intentions? Did some sort of disaster, such as
the great T'larian massacre, happen? Speculation, such as this,
was inevitable, but quickly pushed aside and dismissed as
needless. They would know the answer soon enough.
Some eyes then roved over those that came with the Heir.
Behind him, walked his wife and his daughter. A vision of
loveliness his wife was, with strange hair that would seem to
shift colors from white to purple in patterns that responded to
the way the suns would hit her tresses through the crystalline
skylight above them. She too wore the severely metallic blue
armor, but in her case it only highlighted what was already a
flawless figure. Indeed, she was the target of much jealousy and
envy by the women present; for she had the most perfect figure,
and the most desirable husband that could be imagined. Not only
that, but she was wise in the ways of politics, and a shrewd
commander, both on the field and in the home. She was the
perfect compliment to her husband, who shared that genius.
Honestly, if ever they decided it was time to remove the
current holder of The Throne, they would find all the support
they could ever hope to have within the families of The Eternal
Tetranian Empire. This despite the fact it would be suicide for
them to try.
It was also easy to see, however, that as those in The Hall
looked upon the pair with a worshipful adoration, was the same as
how they looked upon The Emperor.
Their daughter however...
How was it possible that two, who were so perfect and so
perfectly matched, could produce...that?!
She had inherited what seemed nothing of what either of her
parents should have provided her. She was rather thin and
underdeveloped, and quite a bit shorter than them both; which
caused the blue armor she wore to seem to hang off her pre-
pubescent frame. Her hair was an unhealthy looking shade of
platinum blond, which was rather stringy and unkempt, though if
you were her maids, they'd tell you how impossible it was to do
anything with her tresses. Worst of all her eyes, which were the
same blue on blue color as her parents, and seemingly the only
trait she had inherited from either, had a vacant look to them.
Perhaps even a bit of boredom, but whatever it was, it was
certain to those present she was hardly the genius she should
have been, considering who she had for parents.
All three began to traverse the distance to the seat of
power itself, their foot steps being the only thing heard in The
Hall as all had grown silent after sensing the Heir's move. They
stepped in time, each amplifying the other, and all echoing
loudly off the walls surrounding them, seeming to herald in a
doom that would shortly be realized. As the Heir and his family
passed, each felt the passage of the One Who Brings Eternal Night
in his bone. None could escape the chill it brought.
All too briefly, the steps ended, and the three stood face
to face with their lord and master. They kneeled before him upon
one knee; their heads hanging low.
"You have failed." If one could have seen the faces of the
Heir and his wife, a slight tightening, akin to the reaction to
the pain of taking a blow, would have been evident at the
Emperor's statement. Their daughter, at least, knew enough to
keep silent being that she was way out of her depth.
The Emperor stood then, his table sinking into the floor;
he stood, and kept on standing. He stood until he was fully
erect, all seven feet of him. He was indeed very tall, but he
was also incredibly broad of shoulder; making him a veritable
Titan physically. Like the Heir, he too projected an aura that
demanded the respect due him, but unlike the Heir, it was not the
kind that instilled loyalty through love, but then that was more
than evident before.
Now, standing at full attention, the menace that he exuded
permeated the room; overpowering the respect those in the room
bore the Heir.
There was calculation, consideration, even curiosity, but
mostly fear. For he had failed. The HEIR had failed. It was
hardly conceivable, considering the Heir had never failed at any
task set before him, no matter how daunting. Still it was known
that the Emperor had little tolerance for failure, and usually
only one punishment was administered. This was the Heir though.
Surely there would only be a small penance for this, before he
was sent to correct this error...whatever it happened to be. It
was inconceivable that there would be anything else.
"How long has it been? 700 years? 800?" The Emperor
asked casually. "I asked you to look into why our empire was
suffering what looked to be some sort of attack upon our
sovereign. Pirate raids, random destruction, and even whole
lesser families being destroyed every now and then. Yet you
report that there is no clue, there is no trace? No god we might
have offended? No revolutionary activity? No setup for a
possible coup attempt of any family? Not even a chain of natural
disasters? Nothing, but destruction for no rhyme or reason, and
completely random." As the Emperor spoke, his voice became more
and more hoarse, his anger seeping through, and in doing so
agitating the wound he suffered to his throat long before he
became the Emperor. If one were to look closely, assuming they
dared to, one could still see the messy scar right along his
voice box.
There are many stories as to how he might have acquired it.
Some say he dueled the original Emperor in The Hall, and was
wounded in this manner before his father interfered and finally
put the old Emperor down once and for all. Others said he
received this wound as some kind of lesson in his training as a
Deneign warrior priest; the symbol for which was branded forever
more on the back his left hand; that of a Dragon, wings spread
wide, atop a Phoenix, screaming with joy as if it had just arose
from it's ashes, signaling it's rebirth. The most unbelievable
one, however, was that he was defending his second wife in one of
the innumerable battles that took place between the families as
they jockeyed for position in the ranks of their empire. In that
one it was said he did indeed fight the Emperor himself, as the
K'thardin family to which he hailed had grown so strong as to
challenge the old Emperor's power. Rather than kill his enemy,
the Emperor rendered him helpless, wounded his voice (which was
said to actually be his most beautiful feature, for what is a
handsome man) and then forced him to watch as he raped and
murdered his wife; which was meant to be a message to both him
and everyone else that to attempt to usurp the throne was to
invite a fate worse than death.
While that story was not believed by most, it did amuse all
somewhat. For if true, it was quite obvious now, that little
message had the opposite effect. Then again, it would explain
why the current Emperor did what he did to the one he usurped
just after the old Emperor's defeat.
The old Emperor screamed for forty days and nights before
he was finally allowed to die. During that time the current
Emperor and his father carted all the current heads of the
families and the various other associations in to watch the
entire gruesome ordeal.
Needless to say that assassination and coup attempts were
few and far between.
Now what the Emperor was saying about the attacks were well
known to all present. In fact, most of them had suffered from
these...disasters in various degrees ranging from the equivalent
of a bug bite to having one's legs and arms slowly chewed off.
That the Heir could not find the cause of this was disturbing in
and of itself.
"The most you have gotten for us is that all of these
occurrences are related somehow. You received this information
from the oracles, prophets, and truth-sayers that are in our fair
empire. A dubious, but as of yet, ONLY source of information."
The Emperor walked toward the kneeling Heir and his entourage.
Kneeling down, he placed his hands upon the shoulders of the
Heir, and lifted him to standing; though he only came up to the
Emperor's chest and kept his head bowed before the taller man.
His wife and his daughter were then silently motioned to rise as
well; haltingly they did so, keeping their heads low as well.
"You who were responsible for conquering the Jinai, the
last of the autonomous empires within this galaxy and
facilitating its assimilation into ours. You who discovered why
and how the T'larian family was annihilated (may we never offend
the Mad One again). You who actually negotiated a peaceful
settlement with the Juraians over the intergalactic trade routes
between the galaxies. You who have never failed at any other
deed and task I set before you." His scratchy voice grew quiet
again, but as before all heard what was said as clear as
distilled water. "C'mon! This is really messing the empire up.
Not only is it inconveniencing us, it's making a fool of us. Of
all of us! Every man woman and child in the empire! Did you
lose your pride man? Are you not the Heir to all Tetran? Are
you not the one who will inherit everything when I can do no more
for our people?"
"Please My Lord! Please! My husband has serv..." As
quickly as the Heir's wife tried to speak in her husband's
defense, so too was she silenced as the Emperor cast a baleful
glance in her direction. The daughter began to tremble ever so
slightly, as the enormity of the situation began to sink into her
young mind and fear began to take over.
"Have you nothing to say for...yourself?" The Heir's head
shot up, and for a brief moment anger flashed across his eyes at
the Emperor's somewhat obscure insult registered upon his mind.
Quickly dismissed as the Heir nearly broke down in tears
before his master and said with as much humility as he could
muster, "I beg of you My Emperor Ryuken. I only wish to serve
you. I beg for another chance. This will not happen again, I
swear to you on my soul."
"Indeed," the Emperor nodded his head grimly, "This will
not happen again."
It happened so fast; that it seemed nothing had happened at
all. But the Emperor's movement was felt.
Both the Heir and his wife fell to their knees, and then
floor limply in unison, their armor making two distinct clanking
sounds as they dropped. Only when they hit the ground, did their
heads roll from their bodies; their faces still set in masks of
humility, and now set like that forevermore.
A shocked silence fell over The Hall, no one believing what
had just happened.
Surely..? How..? What...? Can't be...just...can't be.
No one spoke, but they did move; many to rise from their
seats, and even one to draw her weapons.
How could the Emperor possibly do...THAT!?
The Emperor eyes noted the bright flash of a psi weapon
being activated, and with the barest flicker of his power,
destroyed it's source. Not to mention a few of the others that
happened to be too close to her.
Everyone sat back down quickly as his eyes roved over each
again, promising he'd do the same given even a fraction of an
excuse.
"It is true this will not happen again," the Emperor Ryuken
stated as he continued to gaze at the congregation before him,
"but it is also true I now need a new Heir." Without hesitation
he pointed. "You. You will be my new Heir."
And the former Heir's daughter, still unable to believe
that her parents were laying dead at her feet, their crimson
blood now pooling below her yet not gaining purchase upon her
armor, turned a shocked look to her sovereign. All color had
drained from her face, and her shaking causing a slight rattling
sound as the various bits of her armor tapped against each other.
"My first command to you is to complete what your father
was incapable of. If you should repeat his failure, this will be
your fate. Do you understand, my Heir?"
A shuddering nod was the only response she was able to
give.
"Good. Now leave, and when next I send for you, have the
answer with you. If you find it before then; make me aware of
this." To her credit, though how she did it was anyone's guess,
she managed to turn and walk calmly to the huge double doors that
were opened by their guardians for her, for once outside, she ran
for dear life.
The Emperor then instructed the guards to remove the bodies
and have the mess up on the seventh tier cleaned up, but all the
while he kept an open eye on the masses of the Leaders of the
Tetran before him.
The daughter of the previous Heir was not someone that the
families would follow without question. She did not have any of
the genius or charismatic traits that were the trademark of her
parents. How could the Emperor make her, of all present, the new
Heir? How could the Emperor just KILL THE HEIR LIKE THAT?!
Amidst all the outrage, and anger and shame he saw
reflected in many faces, Ryuken also saw the beginnings of
calculation, of how best to make use of this new situation. He
saw alliances crumble, new ones form almost instantly. Old
hatreds began to flare up, while new ones were just forming.
Others were buried, and forgotten in light of what was done to
their Heroes.
Yes, Ryuken thought, as he took his place upon the
crystalline seat of power. Perfect. A truly satisfied smile
appeared on his face.
"Let the endgame begin," he said quietly.
<Ending theme - Dreams - Van Halen>
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