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Old 04-23-2007, 07:23 AM   #1
Lord Spitfire
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[Fic] Power

Hi, guys! As some of you may know, I have started my own kotor 3 fic. But I also have been working on this for some time now. This is a story that takes place four years after World War III, and a 29 year-old war veteran - Zaeq Sheade - is now an assassin, trying to protect magic.

See, during the war, all of the death that occured created a chemical reaction in the balance of nature, creating a force called magic that binds all things with hate, anger, and evil. This is inspired by the force, but it is evil. But without it, humans would die, because they are too attached to it now.

I will start off with the prologue and (short) first chapter. Enjoy!



The Journal of Zaeq Sheade

Entry 719

December 2nd, 2031, The Peak of World War III

Power is the main objective. To achieve that, you must forget yourself, sacrifice your consciousness, and become the currents of power that surround. Revel in the power, and remember; Passion is strength, and apathy is death.

I am Zaeq Sheade. These are the words that I will live by; these are the teaching of which I will pledge myself to. Today, the war ends. It has been eight years since I walked out on the battlefield to fight one of the first battles of the war, and the first battle for me. I remember the rush of exhilaration I felt as I plummeted from the helicopter, down from the skies. I remember seeing the chaos through the eyes of a soldier, no longer a mercenary. I have killed men with waiting families, I have slaughtered countless lives. But most importantly, I have suffered – and made other people suffer, by my hands – betrayal. I have thought about this since my promotion, and I have made the few words that I have written above the guideline of my life. I am ready for the thing I have been waiting for, for eight years now. Through the war, I have felt a natural power, a power that I call magic.

The hate and lust and passion that had been felt by billions of people during the war created a natural power, a current that now flows through all living things. Magic is evil; magic is the darkness that now lies in everyone. All life has forever been cursed by the war. There will be someone who tries to destroy magic, to try and save life. But life can not live without magic, now that it is bound to it. I will defend magic. I will be the power in which all life dies, and the power in which all life lives. The war may have damaged my eyes, but the truth is; that at last, I could see.



Chapter One: Gates of Fire

Zaeq Sheade stood at the windowsill. He had an ALMOST perfectly normal body. He was in his late twenties, and was about an inch or so higher than six feet tall. He had the brown skin like cardboard, and his hair was comber from the middle and gracefully laid down in the middle of both his collars, with locks hanging down. His face was clean shaven, except for a bit of stubble, just under his ravaged and fierce expression. Everything seemed in order. Except for his eyes. His empty eye sockets were a black hole, a codex of death.

Reaching to the table, he picked up two silver orbs, and then stuck it into his eyes. It looked like he had silver eyes with no pupils, almost like death itself had been forced into his heart, and a reflection of his agony showed through his artificial eyes. Actually, they did not help him see, but those orbs were orbs of great power. He had used those orbs as a store of magic, so that if he used those as his eyes, he could see the world as it truly was, see the world through magic’s perspective. All that passion hate, love, betrayal, that had been felt by everyone during the war had created the natural force that was magic. When Zaeq saw the world – not his everyday sight – but when he closed his eyes to meditate, and to see the true world, the whole world, for what it really was, he saw two gates of fire. These gates were parallel to each other. One side had a glare to it, almost like it was a reflection. The other was clear, but both showed evil dark, twisting fire in them.

Zaeq still hadn’t found a meaning to this, even after years of meditating, but he had a vague idea that one was the physical world – the glared side – and the clear side was magic, the true world. But Zaeq had put this out of his mind. It was almost snowing outside. He could see a little bit of frost down in the alleyway in which his crude apartment overlooked.

“One Week!” he cursed silently to himself, his mind in a state of desperation. “I have one week to steal that package, otherwise that crime lord Granek won’t pay me!” Zaeq had been hired to kill a girl – her name was not told to Zaeq, but descriptions of her was given – and get the package that was in her position to Granek

Zaeq didn’t even know what she was carrying, or why a mere girl would catch the attention of a Crime Lord as powerful as Granek. Unless . . .

Zaeq’s orbs lighted in fury. “That son of a-“

Before Zaeq had any time to think, his front wall blasted open, and he fell back, hitting his head on the windowsill. Zaeq was just able to get up, and to flicker his eyes desperately.

And there it was. His pistol lay idly on the table. Scrambling desperately, Zaeq lunged for the table, but it was too late. Zaeq felt a small piece of metal ground itself on his thigh, sending him crashing to the floor a mere step away from the table. He lifted his head to see a man in a leather suit much like Zaeq’s, except the an held a rubber mask that looked identical to Zaeq’s head.

“I had to find some way to get past the guard.” said the man bitterly. He was bald, had rotten teeth, and overall – not good to look at. “Granek says you only have a week left,” said the man, “and so he decided that you were taking too long. You usually do your assignment almost halfway before the deadline! So, he thought that you had decided to keep Nelntane’s package. WHERE IS IT?”

“I knew it was Nelntane that I was after,” whispered Zaeq, “I don’t have the package, but I swear to you. I will kill her, and I will have her package, and laugh over her dead body – and yours, if you get in my way – and do what I have been trying to do since the war ended.”

The man gave a bitter laugh, but Zaeq’s expression stayed the same, and even hints of a sinister smile were to be seen.

And on that spot, the man collapsed.

Zaeq brought himself up, brushing the dirt off of his track pants - made of a leathery materiel. He brought his pistol up, and looked at the dead man.

His face was pale as a peice of paper, his eyes staring out in shock, as if the last second of his life had been thousands of years in torture.

"Let's see what else Granek can throw at me. I'll find you! And I'll kill you, Granek! You can't hide from me!" he screamed to himself as he gave an intense laugh. It was cold, and yet it was not evil.

Zaeq held the two pistols in both of his hands. He knew where to go.


Let there be rock!

"I hope they realize that music is music, and that music is not a scene, not a style. Music is a beautiful ****ing thing to listen to. It is not a thing to ****ing preach to others about, it's not a ****ing cause. It is what it is—and that's a beautiful artform." - Synyster Gates

Check out my Fanfic:
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II: Embers of Destruction

Last edited by Lord Spitfire; 04-23-2007 at 07:33 AM.
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