The Creative Writing Thread (All writers come all!)

[Amray]

I have recently furthered my plans to make a sequel, or rather a prelude, to my original story. I do not wish to reveal too much but it, if I do proceed to writing it, will be based around the life of the father of the youth which is currently, and always was for that natter, the central character in the original. I have thought about it when planning the one I am writing now and I am finding it quite an interesting idea. It would definitely fit the story and give readers more of an idea of what the first novel was truelly about. It will possess more of a background to the father who proves to be a very important character, despite being in one scene.

You probably do not understand fully but this is a good idea for the whole overall plot, and very interesting. I will proceed even further into these plans for a second one once I finish the first.

[Usuratonkachi]

The slim chance of getting some sort of feedback proves to be too tempting. ¬_¬

Here's a prologue of a new story. I'm not going to write a summary or anything. I just want to know what you think and what sort of ideas you get by reading this.

Thank you in advance!

Spoiler for to save space:

Prologue

The spring rain was frigid.

Multi-coloured umbrellas bobbed over the heads of citizens walking under the line of young cherry blossoms that curled in on themselves to fend off the unexpected cold. In less than a week, this street and this city and this country would be bathed in gentle fluttering pinks. Heavy hearts would be lifted, spirits rejoicing as people would drink and sing and enjoy the festivities. Everyone knew that the gruelling weather would pass, to make way for the sun, and that knowledge alone helped them endure it.

But for one, the downpour was welcomed.

No one considered it unusual for a man to run through the rain with a dark jacket held over his head. They would miss the limp in his steps. The sea of umbrellas made it more difficult for his pursuers to keep track of him. The sheets of rain and wisps of fog concealed him better in the grey-tone shadows. And under the wide bridge of a main street, the churning brown waters of the rain-fed river would wash away his blood without a trace.

Breathing heavily, the man dragged his feet along the precariously thin ledge until he came upon the first of several indents in the sturdy structure. He slid inside, but remained close to the opening in case he needed a quick escape. With a grimace, he leaned against the cold wall and sank to the damp ground.

The sprain in his ankle had been a hindrance, but it was the gash in his side that made his vision swim and breathing a labour. Sweat and rain made his dark hair cling to his skin, while ice and fire raged, indistinguishable from one another, inside. With trembling fingers, he peeled back the edge of his jacket from his left abdomen and glanced down at the bunched cloth pressed against the wound. The previously sky-blue material was now stained a dark crimson and seeped through the fingers that held it firmly in place.

“Brilliant,” he breathed softly as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. For a while, the only sounds came from his shallow breathing and the drone of cars driving overhead. The harsh patter of rain was drowned out by the gurgling river. Soon, night would fall and give him the cover he needed to get back to the rundown shack in the slums. Until then, he would rest and bide his time.



Worry penetrated his foggy mind and nudged him out of his light stupor. A curiosity, almost childlike, laced with worry. The man frowned, opening his eyes, and struggled to focus them. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and fingered the switchblade, but remained motionless.

He wasn’t worried. He’d survived worse before.

A brief flutter of confusion and relief. Still, the worry persisted.

Who was it?

The figure beside him, blurred and shrouded in darkness.

He wasn’t harmful. He wouldn’t hurt him.

The man squinted, fighting down the aching pain and bitter chill. Slowly, his vision began to clear and allowed him to focus on a little boy who crouched next to him.

Worry, curiosity.

“You aren’t here to kill me, are you?” the man said quietly, studying the child. He appeared to be a local boy, with black hair and brown eyes. The rucksack he carried was one worn by all primary school children in the country. A navy-blue hat kept him dry, along with a matching raincoat and rubber boots.

The boy blinked at him and cocked his head slightly to the side. The man snorted silently. Of course he didn’t understand.

Worry.

“I’m fine,” the man said in the local language. The large eyes brightened and a timid smile appeared on the boy’s face.

“Aren’t you cold, mister?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous close to a river like this.”

“But you’re here.”

“I need to be here.”

“Why?”

He ignored the question. “You need to go home. Your parents will worry.”

Worry. It swelled and fluctuated, uncontrolled. The man frowned.

“But you’re hurt.” He froze. “You’re cold.”

The child tentatively edged closer and reached across the man. His small hand barely grazed the edge of his jacket when the man snatched it so suddenly the boy let out a squeal of surprise. Reeling back, he would have tumbled right off the ledge had the man not held his thin wrist tightly. The inevitable jerk pulled at his wound and he bit back a cry.

Fear.

He let go. The boy watched him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the man muttered, the strain heavy in his voice as he pushed down the pain. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Worry.

“You should go home.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be alright.”

As much as he wanted to simply collapse, the foreign emotions were disturbing. So was the fact that he couldn’t seem to block them out, as he usually did. Perhaps it was just the pain that prevented him from concentrating.

But the boy. How could he have known?

Easing his eyes closed once again, the man banished the thoughts from his weary mind and forced his body to relax. It wouldn’t do to start the bleeding again.

“Just go home,” he whispered one final time before deciding to forget about the curious little boy.

Shortly, the worry and fear receded, and the man, already halfway into a light doze, gave a small, relieved sigh.

– Until a bundle of warmth pressed into his side, startling him awake. He tensed and searched the surroundings for danger, but only found the very same child crawling into his lap, though careful to avoid his left side. Large, brown eyes peered up at him. He stared back, too surprised and far too tired to do anything. The boy smiled a little and then snuggled close.

The man immediately felt the warmth spread from the close contact and found himself welcoming it gratefully. He closed his eyes, promising himself just a few more minutes of this unexpected reprieve from the cold.

Calm, warm, care flowed into his conscience, soothing his nerves and warming him. With barely a conscious thought, a whispered word passed softly through his lips, “Noah.”

[whitepearl]

Darn, I was gonna go back and read some stuff but I forgot about it for several weeks T_T

Still straightening things out with my creative works and with life in general.

[Duo Himura]

Hey all. Thought I'd drop by, being a writer-y type.

Um... I don't really know how to go on describing my writing. I guess I do mostly sci-fi/fantasy stuff (not really bothering to distinguish between them, sometimes, seeing as I'm usually very light on the "science" aspect of science fiction). I guess one of my goals is to write a bit of everything, because I tend to get pulled into wanting to do myself things that I've seen other people do. For instance, I've been watching a lot of Mushi-shi and reading a lot of Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou, and now I sort of want to do something with a peaceful sort of overtone to it, because everything I write tends towards intense emotions (sometimes melodrama, but I like to think I execute it well enough that it isn't WANGST).

But yeah, I've got way too many projects going at once. Numerous fanfics, a novel that is scarily not-that-far-in even though I've written ~50,000 words, a comic or two that I'd love to see drawn if I can get an artist to work with me (and stick with it, anyway), and more ideas for novels when the one I'm working on is finished (I'm not quite crazy enough to write two NOVELS simultaneously). Oh, and I tried starting a Rock Opera, but I didn't get very far on that, and I don't know if I'm going back to it. It's hard to do lyrics without music, and the idea was an undeveloped whim.

Concerns for my writing are... consistently being as good as I -can- be, and -writing- consistently. I know that I've written some stuff I'm really happy with, but sometimes I just want to lapse into "get it done" description that moves things along quickly without necessarily evoking mood or what-have-you... and sometimes that's what you want, but rarely is that the case when you do it because you're tired and want to write up to X point before stopping. And on the second count, I just don't write often enough. It's not even like I don't have time, I just don't -use- it. That's something I know I need to fix if I'm going to be serious about trying to make this work as a career.

And my biggest fears bout my writing are: a) I'm crazy and everything I think is great really isn't that special, b) someone will call me out for stealing when I borrowed too heavily from another work (intentionally or not), and c) I will be accused of some sort of discrimination, either for not doing anything with race (I'm from a very white state, I don't feel qualified to address it) or as a sexism thing, because I -do- sometimes give my female characters more crap to deal with than my male characters. Personally I think it makes them stronger, but it may be some psychologically-rooted idea that the suffering of women is more tragic than the suffering of men...

Anyway, that was more information than you probably need to know about me ever, but delivered all at once! Woohoo!

If anyone is still lost as to how my novel can be 50,000 words and not that far along plot-wise (in the grand scheme of things), there is your answer.

[whitepearl]

Originally Posted by Duo Himura

If anyone is still lost as to how my novel can be 50,000 words and not that far along plot-wise (in the grand scheme of things), there is your answer.

Something I was working on was like this, too. I thoroughly re-read it all and eliminated a bunch of stuff.

[1cewolf]

I don't really have anything to post for now, but this thread seemed up my alley so I thought I'd say my peace anyway.

I have an unconventional creative process. Thinking about it reminds me of the opening line in Full Metal Alchemist about the law of equivalent exchange. I literally cannot create anything if I just sit down and try to write something on my own - I need an existing product. It could be the most horrible, generic template in the world, but I need it there so I can tear it down and build something up from the ashes. My finished products always end up looking nothing like what I started with, so you really wouldn't be able to tell, but I think it's an interesting note.

I used to role play quite a lot on message boards. Most of the people on these boards were content to use disposable characters without any real depth. I, on the other hand, made it a point to use the same character, named Shiranui, over a period of 6-7 years. He started off as a failed genetic experiment of DB's Red Ribbon Army and had grown in so many ways by the time I finally retired from roleplaying that he had almost become a part of me. I have an abundance of existing material to work with and I've often thought about making his "life" into a story.

Have you ever played Magic: The Gathering? If you haven't played it, I guarantee you've at least heard of it. I've played card games for years. The ones on the market right now don't really appeal to me, so I decided back in January that I would design my own. I envisioned it as a tactical card game set in a medieval fantasy world of my own design. I haven't really gotten the game's mechanics very far, but I've made a world of progress, literally, on the storyline. I've created a world, its chronological history, its gods, its people, their religions & customs, and the mechanics of how everything works - IE, what the stars are, what happens when people die, et cetera. Everything is done to excruciating detail. I don't seem to be able to make much progress on the card game itself so I may simply take my original storyline and run with it.

I haven't taken up either project for now. I'm a painstaking perfectionist and it would take a massive investment of time and effort to complete either one. Besides, condensing either one into a story would require cutting out a lot of details. I'm not sure if I'll ever take them up, actually, but if I ever decide to go for it, you can say you read about it here first

[TinyRedLeaf]

Originally Posted by 1cewolf

I don't really have anything to post for now, but this thread seemed up my alley so I thought I'd say my peace anyway.

I have an unconventional creative process. Thinking about it reminds me of the opening line in Full Metal Alchemist about the law of equivalent exchange. I literally cannot create anything if I just sit down and try to write something on my own - I need an existing product. It could be the most horrible, generic template in the world, but I need it there so I can tear it down and build something up from the ashes.

Most writers work the same way actually — their characters and plots are inspired by real-life experiences. In your case, the inspiration seems to be characters and events from games. That's not unusual, given the sheer amount of fan fiction out there.

I say, whatever serves as to excite your imagination, go ahead and use it.

I used to role play quite a lot on message boards. Most of the people on these boards were content to use disposable characters without any real depth. I, on the other hand, made it a point to use the same character, named Shiranui, over a period of 6-7 years. He started off as a failed genetic experiment of DB's Red Ribbon Army and had grown in so many ways by the time I finally retired from roleplaying that he had almost become a part of me.

Most, if not all, of the RPG characters I've created have a backstory. There was Cassel Highwind, the bardic leader of The Vagabonds, a group of adventurers who ventured into Icewind Dale to save The Ten Towns from a goblinoid horde. There was Lentin Calemaya, a dashing dilettante who wandered the northern Sword Coast with his faerie sidekick, Adele.

There was Islien d'Avignon, the Red Musketeer of Bastok, who given over to the care of an exiled elvaan in the aftermath of the Crystal War in Vana'diel and trained in both swordplay and sorcery.

There was also Belvedor the Enlightened, a failed paladin wracked with a guilt for having abandoned his comrades on the field of a hopeless battle against the undead of Tirisfal Glades, and who found new hope and purpose in Northshire Abbey.

I find roleplaying games to be far more enjoyable when you treat your characters as "real" people with "real" motivations. To me, they're not just a collection of numbers, grinding away at a game's mechanics. It's all part of a creative process I enjoy partaking in.

Have you ever played Magic: The Gathering? If you haven't played it, I guarantee you've at least heard of it. I've played card games for years. The ones on the market right now don't really appeal to me, so I decided back in January that I would design my own.

And my latest persona, Lind Merovin, is a sky mage whose planeswalking spark awoke amid a fierce storm at sea. His battered sloop, the Seraphine, emerged into a strange ocean underneath a night sky filled with unfamiliar stars. Bewildered, he eventually realised he had stumbled into a new world, a different plane with five separate shards, that would soon be made whole again — with cataclysmic effect.

Is his backstory required? Hardly. Does it make the game more enjoyable though? Absolutely.

[whitepearl]

^^ I took a short story class and our professor told us that when we write our responses to the stories we read (this was an online course) we should never assume that a first-person narrative = autobiography of the author.

I do think that many writers do use their real-life experiences in their stories. As for first-person pieces being autobiographies in disguise...it could be possible. Tough to say since it could go both ways.

[TinyRedLeaf]

Originally Posted by whitepearl

I do think that many writers do use their real-life experiences in their stories. As for first-person pieces being autobiographies in disguise...it could be possible. Tough to say since it could go both ways.

Not necessarily true. The first-person narratives is a pretty recent literary device that became popular only around the early 1900s, if I recall correctly. It's been a long time since I studied the history of modern literature.

Specifically, techniques such as "stream of consciousness", most notably used in James Joyce's Ulyssses, rocked the literary world at the time. It drew inspiration from the emerging field of psychology, particularly Freudian psychoanalysis, and gave readers a new way to experience the minds and motives of various characters.

In short, it's just a modern technique that adds a different dimension to a story. Writers could still apply their real-life experiences to novels told in the third person, if they decide that it helps their story. More interestingly, many use a mix of both, and the shift between two types of narratives is often pregnant with symbolic meaning.

As for me, other gamers often have a hard time believing me when I tell them I am not my characters, and my characters aren't me. They are "alive" in their own sense, driven by their own motives and experiences. Their actions are partly shaped by the events of the game, as well as by their own backstories. Is it me who gave birth to them, or they who are revealing themselves through me? Who knows? It's a mystery.

[ClockWorkAngel]

I take alot of inspiration from life.

I find that my speakers have some similarity to me, but they're much different and every time I write their stories I can feel a part of myself in them.

Its important to draw from life I guess, the most extraordinary things can happen in our imaginations.

[whitepearl]

I use life as an inspiration though for some of my characters, I use them as a way to show to myself how different my life could have been had I done things differently.

Or they are just representations of one or multiple people I have encountered in life.

[Nerroth]

This short work is an entry for a short (600 word) writing contest - and is set in a more long-winded storyline I've been working on.

Spoiler for The Call of Fate:

The Call of Fate

“H’trorren to Audentes – I think I’ve found another one.”

The green-and-white interceptor craft’s most recent mission was a grim one – combing the debris left behind by the wreckage of a number of allied starships, as well as that left in the wake of the destruction of Unicron’s main body, in search of survivors.

His ship, the Audentes, had dis-engaged its transwarp drive and emerged near Cybertron too late to play a role in the battle, but arrived just in time to see the Entropic monster’s destruction at the hands of the Matrix…

…a sight none on board would ever forget.

So far, a number of high-profile individuals had already been rescued – H’trorren himself had been present when Ultra Magnus was recovered and brought on board.

However, while most were recovered without incident, such was not so for the monstrous stasis-locked being H’trorren now uncovered...


---------------------


“How are you doing, H’trorren?” asked the Audentes’ commanding officer – an Autobot of no small renown himself.

H’trorren, for his part, was slouched forward slightly, his fingertips resting on the edge of a circular interface. Upon it currently showed a three-dimensional holo-image of the Milky Way galaxy.

He looked across to his commander, and sighed – knowing that in an off-duty time like this, Countdown had little use for the usual protocols. “I’ve been getting close to a decision, sir.”

“I was thinking as much,” Countdown answered, as he stepped to another side of the interface, and looked up.

“I’ve seen my fair share out there, lad,” he added, as he looked at the image before him. “Yet, even so… I have never seen the likes of this.”

It was as if Countdown himself was as much trying to come to terms with the advent of Unicron as any other who had, in one way or another, made it through the experience.

H’trorren kept thinking of one particular aspect of this whole event, however. “I guess I was as shocked as anyone when we first arrived – but it wasn’t until I saw him that I found myself… asking the kind of questions that, well… I just can’t ignore.”

Countdown remembered the moment vividly. There was something so… haunting about seeing the prone form of Galvatron up close. Even in its stasis-locked form, it un-nerved those around him to an extent that even Megatron himself had not done.

Thankfully, Magnus and Rodimus Prime had been quick to see to the fallen Decepticon commander’s incarceration on Cybertron, and the crew of the Audentes would not have to worry about the prospect of that… thing re-awakening and ripping them all to shreds in moments.

“I’ve been proud to serve alongside you, Countdown,” H’trorren acknowledged, “and been grateful for the role I’ve been able to play in my time aboard Audentes…”

He turned to Countdown, his expression showing that he had reached his decision. “…but I feel it’s time to move on.”

Countdown took a moment to consider this, and then nodded. “I understand.”

At this, the chest module of Countdown’s larger trans-tector chassis opened. The smaller Micromaster form detached from its slot within, transformed, and saluted. “Audentes won’t be the same without you, H’trorren.”

“Thank you, sir,” H'trorren replied, then saluted in return.

“So,” Countdown gestured to the map, “do you have somewhere you want to move on to?”

“Actually,” H’trorren smiled, as he adjusted the display in order to focus on a certain neighbouring star system, “I always wanted to try this place.”

Countdown gave a lop-sided grin, as he pulled out a pocket datapad. “In that case…

…I think I know just the man to talk to.”

[3swords]

Does anyone really use dreams as inspiration, cause alot of times i have some pretty fantastic dreams and start thinking up stories to go along with them

[Alchemist007]

You know I can't say for 100% certain whether I have or not (I hate it when dreams do that, though you think I'd remember if I included it in a story). But I know for certain I have a couple ideas I wrote down and saved from a dream but just have yet to implement them. It's planned, just waiting for the right time to do it. But yeah, I advise writing down something interesting you dream right away (like literally right when you wake up), that way you can recall it for later use.

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Nerroth

Spoiler for The Call of Fate:

The Call of Fate

“H’trorren to Audentes – I think I’ve found another one.”

The green-and-white interceptor craft’s most recent mission was a grim one – combing the debris left behind by the wreckage of a number of allied starships, as well as that left in the wake of the destruction of Unicron’s main body, in search of survivors.

His ship, the Audentes, had dis-engaged its transwarp drive and emerged near Cybertron too late to play a role in the battle, but arrived just in time to see the Entropic monster’s destruction at the hands of the Matrix…

…a sight none on board would ever forget.

So far, a number of high-profile individuals had already been rescued – H’trorren himself had been present when Ultra Magnus was recovered and brought on board.

However, while most were recovered without incident, such was not so for the monstrous stasis-locked being H’trorren now uncovered...


---------------------


“How are you doing, H’trorren?” asked the Audentes’ commanding officer – an Autobot of no small renown himself.

H’trorren, for his part, was slouched forward slightly, his fingertips resting on the edge of a circular interface. Upon it currently showed a three-dimensional holo-image of the Milky Way galaxy.

He looked across to his commander, and sighed – knowing that in an off-duty time like this, Countdown had little use for the usual protocols. “I’ve been getting close to a decision, sir.”

“I was thinking as much,” Countdown answered, as he stepped to another side of the interface, and looked up.

“I’ve seen my fair share out there, lad,” he added, as he looked at the image before him. “Yet, even so… I have never seen the likes of this.”

It was as if Countdown himself was as much trying to come to terms with the advent of Unicron as any other who had, in one way or another, made it through the experience.

H’trorren kept thinking of one particular aspect of this whole event, however. “I guess I was as shocked as anyone when we first arrived – but it wasn’t until I saw him that I found myself… asking the kind of questions that, well… I just can’t ignore.”

Countdown remembered the moment vividly. There was something so… haunting about seeing the prone form of Galvatron up close. Even in its stasis-locked form, it un-nerved those around him to an extent that even Megatron himself had not done.

Thankfully, Magnus and Rodimus Prime had been quick to see to the fallen Decepticon commander’s incarceration on Cybertron, and the crew of the Audentes would not have to worry about the prospect of that… thing re-awakening and ripping them all to shreds in moments.

“I’ve been proud to serve alongside you, Countdown,” H’trorren acknowledged, “and been grateful for the role I’ve been able to play in my time aboard Audentes…”

He turned to Countdown, his expression showing that he had reached his decision. “…but I feel it’s time to move on.”

Countdown took a moment to consider this, and then nodded. “I understand.”

At this, the chest module of Countdown’s larger trans-tector chassis opened. The smaller Micromaster form detached from its slot within, transformed, and saluted. “Audentes won’t be the same without you, H’trorren.”

“Thank you, sir,” H'trorren replied, then saluted in return.

“So,” Countdown gestured to the map, “do you have somewhere you want to move on to?”

“Actually,” H’trorren smiled, as he adjusted the display in order to focus on a certain neighbouring star system, “I always wanted to try this place.”

Countdown gave a lop-sided grin, as he pulled out a pocket datapad. “In that case…

…I think I know just the man to talk to.”

My almost-zero knowledge of Transformers makes me the worst person to comment on this: I needed to read it 3 times to come to a basic understanding of what was going on.

Still, it was nicely condensed. The implied meanings. purpose in H'torren & Countdown's conversations are hard to catch at first, but reveal a great lot about the equally implied ending.

[Guernsey]

Can anyone give me tips on how to write a good psychodrama? I was hoping to create a fic with EB as inspiration but at the same time I don’t enough to write a story like that down. I don’t know if I could but nevertheless I going to give it my best shot and also I would like to know any authors who had done it before so that I can learn from them.

[Nerroth]

Originally Posted by shelter

My almost-zero knowledge of Transformers makes me the worst person to comment on this: I needed to read it 3 times to come to a basic understanding of what was going on.

Still, it was nicely condensed. The implied meanings. purpose in H'torren & Countdown's conversations are hard to catch at first, but reveal a great lot about the equally implied ending.

Glad you liked it - and if you have any questions on the fic, or the setting it's in, I'd be glad to help out.

[Nerroth]

Hi all.


I posted up a preview of a new fiction work I'm starting up soon over at the F/SN fan fiction thread - the link is here if you wanna see it, but should I post it again in this thread anyway?

[ClockWorkAngel]

Go for it actually, I miss F/SN alot, it'd be nice to read about it again.

[Nerroth]

Fair enough.

Bear in mind, though, that it's a sequel to another fiction work I worked on for a while - but there is a link to that work before the preview itself begins.

If that helps.

Spoiler for Crystal Valley: Preview:

Note:

This story is intended to be a follow-up to the story A Moment of Truth, which itself follows the Good ending of Fate/Stay Night's Unlimited Blade Works story route.



Crystal Valley: Preview


BGM: Trevor Morris - And So It Begins


We had come a long way, Sakura and I.

Across half the world and back again, I found the acrid depths a human mind can stoop to…

…and the soaring heights to which our kind should all aspire.


Together, she and I, with those who comprise our family circle, faced our moments of truth.

At long last, one chapter of our collective lives had come to an end.


And yet…


Despite the glimpses offered, by the one which beckoned us towards a new destiny…


…none of us were prepared for what lay in store.


------------------------------


The group of adventurers were astounded.

The flight from Sao Paulo into the interior covered such a diverse array of terrain, so many individual glimpses at a country – a continent – in constant flux.

From the urban sprawl of the metropolis the group left behind, the course of the flight gradually took them over wide subtropical forests and immense stretches of savanna, pock-marked to a greater or lesser extent by large stretches of farmland. Much of it had been ‘claimed’ at the expense of a unique ecosystem which lay under increasing siege, despite the efforts of many to steer its fate towards a less destructive path.

And further on, past the myriad works of man, lay the pulsating heart of life itself…

…the Amazon basin.

“It’s hard to get a handle of…” admitted Rin, who had a hand pressed against one of the small plane’s windows, trying not to ‘accidentally’ Reinforce the glass while doing so.

Shirou nodded, putting a hand to the side of his head, as he tried to peek out himself. “It’s usually so cloudy when you fly to London from Japan and back. I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to see the terrain I’ve flown over quite like this.”

Saber, who almost wished she had asked for the chance to fly the group to their destination herself – assuming her Riding skill wouldn’t take too long to adjust – remained silent. Her wide eyes, intently picking up every last scrap of detail it could along the way, said more than mere words could convey, to those who knew what to look for in them.

Meanwhile, Sakura rested her head on Seonac’s shoulder, as the two looked on through their own windowpane. Much as the view had to offer, the two couldn’t help but find their thoughts drawn away from it, and towards a more distant point they would have to try and reach.

“They’re waiting for us,” Seonac ‘whsipered’ into his beloved’s mind.

“Hai,” came the reply.

They had so far left to go… but even so, they were on their way.


------------------------------


As the rain beat down, from clouds which had not been there a few hours ago, the captured man shuddered in reaction to the mysterious, piercing set of green eyes which remained locked upon him.

“Wait…” he said, as he tried to steady himself, “I don’t…”

Something’s not right here, Seonac thought to himself, as he suddenly sensed a shift within the prisoner’s mind. It was almost as if…

“Ah, so you can notice it,” a new voice spoke, from the prisoner’s mouth. The man smirked, his expression changing in an instant – but Seonac knew that this was not the same man at all. “Interesting.”

Seonac tried to retain the initiative, despite a growing sense that something was about to go very, very wrong. “I don’t suppose you feel like talking about it, then?”

The ‘man’ chuckled, as he stood up, going as far as he could while the bonds remained in place. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have anything to say to you and yours. Well, except for one thing, that is.”

Seonac replied, as he noted Rin, Saber and Shirou approach. “Which is…”

A wider grin, as the final words were spoken. “This one’s usefulness… has just reached its end.”

The five of them could feel the pulse of danger, as Saber’s instincts reacted even as the low whistling sound was immediately followed by the pitiful sight of fear in the man’s eyes as his head burst open to one side.


------------------------------


The way to the village was un-marked by any recognisable trail, though the guide seemed to note every step’s worth with the expertise of one who carried a lifetime’s worth of experience among the rainforest.

Some of the villagers had stepped forward to note the strangers’ presence, while others seemed content to remain at whatever stations they had been busy at before the new arrival.

Seonac was fascinated by the sight of these people, but what was perhaps most striking was how they, or at least those who were most prominently reaching out to his mind, seemed to recognise him.

“So, I don’t suppose you have any idea why they already seem to recognise you?” Rin asked, wondering when any of these locals were actually going to speak. She had a few guesses as to why they had not done so, but none of them meant that she had to like it.

Before Seonac could reply, one of the elders directed them to what looked like a kind of statue…

…but when they came closer, they realised that the effigy was made of a material like no other on Earth.

This would have been the most important part of it, were it not for the person the face of the effigy echoed in astonishing detail.


------------------------------


The five had been given the time they needed to settle in, or at least as much as they could settle for what was, even now, a waypoint on their wider journey.

And yet, even leaving the anthropologist’s treasure trove which this unique culture represented aside, it seemed increasingly obvious that these people were strongly linked to the place where the five were going.

Their story was crucial to understanding what lay beyond.

As the music began, so did the telling.

“What do they want, itoshii?” Sakura asked, as another of the elders approached them, his hand outstretched.

Seonac stood up, and smiled as he held Sakura’s hand in his own. “They want us to dance.”

She smiled in turn as she followed him up, and the assembled crowd watched the two move together, as if they could hear an echo of the song which played within their entwined minds.

As the dance continued, more and more of the villagers joined in, each following a kind of pattern that seemed to tell a story within a story, all of its own.

As the dance widened, a shared vision flowed into the minds of all assembled – a vision of another time, another place. At the dawn of this people’s world, when they had been the first of their kind, the architects of a realm like no other.

As the cries called out, one after another, each with more sorrow, more depth, more meaning than the last, the tragic tale unfolded.


A burning light in the distant sky.

An unwilling exodus to a foreign land.

A stream of tears and heartache, as friends and loved ones passed beyond the known realm.

A determination to dance, to rejoice, to defy the call into oblivion, to assert the bittersweet mantra what while there is life, there is hope.

A set of new arrivals, each hundreds of moons apart, each reflected in the living metal…

…and each drawn to a fate unknown.

A sense that all of this, somehow, was inexorably building towards something…

…that would change their world yet again.


------------------------------


Like the ringing of a solitary church bell, the pulse of psionic energy emanated across the gathering, as if calling time on one set of events, and calling forth the onset of a new phase.

At the source of the pulse, the eyes of the ‘statue’ flared a bright emerald.

It stepped forth.

It was time.


------------------------------


The five followed the course laid out by the walking simulacrum, its sure and steady stride in stark contrast to the carefully-navigated route the indigenous guide had followed to lead them to the village.

It walked as if even the act itself was a carefully-choreographed form of mimicry, as if it had somehow been trained to move in a fashion alien to it.

Its lips did not move, not even to show any sign of breathing, nor to express any sign of exertion.

And despite the utter silence, both verbally and telepathically, to be found within, the being still emanated an immensely powerful sense of purpose – as if it was fulfilling one small, but crucial, part in a far more intricate plan.

It stopped at what seemed to be a rock face, and turned to face the group as a shimmering vortex of teal and emerald formed behind it.


------------------------------


On the other side, the four humans, one Servant, and one simulacrum stood upon a smooth disc of the same alien material as the silent guide.

As the disc flew along towards its destination, the five were left speechless at the sights they passed through.

Within an immense subterranean cavern, a glowing light seemed to emanate and reflect from a hundred thousand surfaces, from the distant roof to the ground below. They passed through endless rows of petrified – no, crystallized – trees, plants, even animals, left as if frozen in time at the moment of ossification. Thin strands of the alien material, light as the air yet stronger than diamond, was woven into an impossibly intricate pattern, between the trees, along the surface, among the relatively few notable terrain features on the ceiling.

In the centre of the cavern, this immense crystal valley beneath the surface of an otherwise-unheralded patch of the hemisphere, rested the somewhat egg-shaped pods within which two very special forms of life currently resided.

They were too far away to be seen clearly, but Seonac and Sakura rejoiced as they could sense the little ones’ presence.

But there was so much, so very much more than that.

The flying disc approached the centre, and as it did so, the will of the one which had guided its actions lay manifest.

The five looked up, open-mouthed, as they strained their necks in order to try and take in the sheer scope of the Ultimate One before them.

It was hoisted in the centre of the Crystal Valley upon impossibly large, curved legs, which held up a torso mounting innumerable appendages, large and small. Behind its back lay a perfect circle, effortlessly housing a churning matrix of unfathomable power and majesty.

Its three heads – or was it five? Or maybe only the one? - rested upon long neck-like extensions, and even the one, central head seemed to take in all of the arrivals at once.

Saber tried to steel herself in the face of this godlike entity, despite the overwhelming sense of apprehension at their very presence within this un-earthly landscape.

Rin and Shirou held each other’s hand more tightly than either realised, as they thought of the last time they faced something even remotely comparable in terms of power.

Sakura, in contrast, was trying to fight down the intensely strong urge to rush over and embrace the pods containing the little ones – but the sight of how her partner faced the immense being before them gave her pause.

Seonac, however, left no fear or apprehension at all, as his mind opened to the One which had beckoned him forth. Rather, he left that he was on the very cusp of something… magnificent.

“I can see it,” he spoke, as the first tendrils of communication formed. “Its presence, its purpose…”

He could see it all.

Its reason for being on this world.

Its efforts to understand, in extraordinary detail, the kind of life, so different to its own, which awaited it here.

Its revelation that, despite its solitary presence here on Earth…

…that it was not alone.


“Quite the show, isn’t it?”

That voice…

Seonac’s head turned, his eyes looking out into the crystal valley, desperately trying to pick out who had ‘said’ this. “What are you…”

“I’ve waited for far too long,” the voice proclaimed in triumph, loud enough for all of them to hear, “And at last… vengeance shall be mine!”


All Seonac could do was scream, as the bolt of Gin-soaked energy fired from a hidden vantage point, soaking up the energy permeating the cavern as it smashed into the circle upon the Ultimate One’s back.

------------------------------


When the new portal opened, wreathed in crimson, I knew that four thousand years’ worth of effort had been left in vain.

As it – as they – came forth, I knew that the fate of mankind itself now lay in the balance.

As I looked to my friends, my family, we all realised that there was only one, faint chance, before it was too late.

And as I turned to the Ultimate One before me, and took the step towards my true destiny...

...I wondered if it would be enough.