Lament and Fruition
A History Between the Head Agents of the Echelon
By Kagomes_Luver2789
Part 3: "Lament of a Warrior"
-----------------------------------
I didn’t know what exactly had occurred after I saw the blood spilling down through the floorboards. It was like I had entered a state of pure bestial anger, my arms thrashing uncontrollably, leaving pain and destruction to everything that stood in their path. It could have lasted a few seconds, several minutes, or even hours for all I knew. What I do know, though, is that when I was finally able to form coherent thoughts again, everything, and everyone, lay motionless on the floor, beaten and torn to pieces, wallowing in a thick crimson bath…
* * *
She’s dead,
I thought. She’s dead…
As I sank to my knees on that blood-soaked floor, the revelation kept repeating inside of my mind, a mantra perpetuating itself into my deepest thoughts like an importunate headache that wouldn’t go away. It was all I could do to hold myself back from throwing another tantrum, like a child still infuriated of being deprived of an object he held dear.
I slowly crawled my way to where she was lying on the floor, cradling her head in my hands and holding her close to my chest, running my hands through the silky smooth hair of hers, still lively and still beautiful. I craned my head downwards and silently cried into those strands of wavy brown, letting my emotions spill out over her limp and lifeless body. I held her tightly, trying desperately to convince myself that she wasn’t dead, that my arms and my body were what kept her from moving, from being able to tell me ‘I’m okay’, and barely holding onto the belief that it was of my will that she was still, not because she was now in the grasp of death’s frail fingers. But even I, of such young age and erudition, could not pretend forever.
"Why…?" I quietly sobbed into her hair, "I could have stopped you… I should have stopped you…"
As I sat there in silence, mourning my beloved sister and dear friend, I became alert of the faint, yet distinct, snapping of branches out by the wood, near the rear of the manor. I quietly laid my sister down and moved to the opposite end of the dining room, where a pair of scimitars was hanging from the ceiling of the room. I paused in front of them, glancing at the face mirrored in the glistening steel. It was a face that still retained some of its youthfulness and ignorance, but it was also wary that it wouldn’t last forever. I lifted up the scimitars and placed the scabbards on my back, sliding both swords into them. I wasn’t sure if I was going to live through the entire night, and, frankly, I don’t think I cared. If I was going to die, I was going to die taking down all of those murderous bastards with me.
As I went to leave the house, I walked past a marble bust of grandfather towards the rear door of the manor. My grandfather was a revered man in Aires, and an accomplished martial artist, one of many in his family. Unfortunately for my grandfather, he had to pass his technique onto me instead of my father, breaking the long held tradition in our family after my father had abruptly declined when he was my age. My father, being the business-oriented man he was, had told him that he would "let others dirty their hands in trivial matters such as fighting". Ironically, it was also in front of the statue of my grandfather that my own father lay slain. You could even go so far as to say he was also…dirty.
I exited the rear entrance and headed towards the mouth of the forest, scimitars in hand and a BR55 rifle slung over my back. I had walked past a small armory on my way out, and decided I was better off if I took one with me, not wanting to take the risk of being at a disadvantage because of mere attacking distance. I couldn’t let that happen, and I wouldn’t. It would shame my family name, a faux pas that would haunt me afterwards.
If there was an afterward, that is.
I eyed my surroundings carefully as I wandered through the forest, jogging at a brisk pace through the entanglement of wood. The trees cast ominous shadows over the unleveled ground, dancing as the branches moved in rhythm with the wind. The leaves waltzed all over the soil as the breeze blew over them, providing a serene, silent melody to accompany the dance floor. It was a magnificent ballroom and I was the wrecking ball, bringing the sweet harmony to an abrupt and unexpected end.
By now, I was flying through the trees, my eyes shot open. I was looking for anyone, anything, to attack with my swords. My mind was racing with murderous thoughts once more, and I needed something to expel them upon before I would explode with burst of emotion and feral anger.
As I ran past a group of hollow trees, a voice called out behind me, and I instinctively lashed out with both scimitars at the tree I had rushed past. The surprise of hearing my name was quickly overshadowed by my bewilderment when my blades struck metal instead of wood. The unexpected clash of steel on steel resonated through my head, completely ringing out the raging entity that had captivated my mind and felling me from the force of the rebound. I was about to swing again at the person I had hit, but the voice called out my name once more.
"Eric!" he yelled, stepping out of the hollow tree where he had hid himself.
I watched as I made out a silhouette stepping from the tree into the shadows cast from the trees above, small patches of light playing on his face. Even though I couldn’t see well for the shadows, I instantly recognized his short form, and for a brief second, I felt my heart lift because I had finally met someone living, someone I knew. It was perhaps one of the most joyous four seconds of my life.
But then I finally remembered not just who he was, but what he was.
"You!" I yelled in anger, raising my arm to strike once more, lifting it above my head and bringing it down upon him.
Reacting with the most perfect of timed reflexes, he parried with his long and slender weapon while evading a stab from my other scimitar. His quick and sudden movements forced him from the dark shadows of the tree into the more open path of the forest, where the moonlight fully lit his physiognomy, all while erasing any shadow of a doubt of who he was.
"Juan Alvarez," I said, raising the blades I held into a formal battle stance, "You… will die."
* * *
"You… will die."
Perhaps just a tad bit over the top, but it was nothing I didn't expect to hear from a Guerrero. Especially this one of their entire lot. However, his brash exclamation was a clear warning that meant I needed to stay alert, lest he took me with my guard down.
In truth, it's not that I thought I couldn't hold my own against his formidable array of fighting techniques, just that I didn't want any "surprises", you can say. I knew much about him, but I didn't want to be caught offguard by something I had not been privvy to, so it was best to play it safe. In order to exact the revenge I I sought from him, I needed to maintain my focus and end it without mishap, or else I'd regret it if the confrontation evolved into a violent debacled.
Almost as soon as my train of thought departed, he violently swung his blade at me, giving me little room to maneuver with in terms of the time I had to evade and counter. As I ducked to avoid his sword, I brought my spear up to block a blow from the other, embedding it within the sturdy wooden handle. All it took was a light flick of my wrist and I had succeeded in ridding him of one of his weapons, disposing of the blade by kicking it off the staff behind me. As I turned towards him once more, a saw a shocked expression plastered over his face. He quickly tried to regain his composure, preparing another attack with the lone blade he had left in his grasp. He began to swing the blade upwards from the ground in a stroke that would have ultimately ended my life.
But I was faster.
I lunged forward, pinning his shoulder against a tree with the shaft of my spear and quickly wrenching the other scimitar from his hand. As the scimitar clanged against the rocky ground, he let out a weak, defeated sigh.
"And here I was looking to avenge my family," he said, looking up towards the cloudy night sky that loomed above us, "What a shameful way to die."
I was about to move on and deliver the finishing blow to finish my nemesis for good when that line struck me.
Avenge my family.
At first, I couldn't fathom what exactly he would need to avenge his family for. I believed it was he and his kind that had killed my own, but he came out all this way to do exactly what I had come for as well? It didn't make sense to me at all.
Well, not until I realized that the house a distance behind him was suddenly alight with flames, that is.
Surprised, I quickly turned back to face the direction in which my family's manor was, and even more grief struck me as I witnessed it being consumed by flames as well. Father... Mother! I silently mourned, recalling their tragic fates within the wooden walls of their home, their final resting place.
While all this was almost too much to bear, I knew I had to act somehow. Whether it be my last actions on this earth, or a stepping stone towards my true revenge, I had to do something. So I began to formulate a plot within the recesses of my mind, taking into consideration that those who had lit our homes were undoubtedly heading our way, making the time I had few and precious. However, there was a new obstacle in the formulation of my plan that I couldn't go around.
And it was standing right in front of me.
I went through all other possible solutions that would allow me to rid myself of this "problem" and still live to see the next day, but my results of my search were barren and fruitless. I had no other choice, aside death by those who murdered my family, and I wasn't about to let a household rivalry let that happen.
"Eric," I asked, trying to find a way to phrase the question right without make it seem too demanding. Finding no other way, though, I went on and bluntly stated my situation.
"I need your help."
The only question left to ponder now was "Will he accept?"...
--------------------------
Characters:
Kay El... and Zeus. yea. that's pretty much all of them.
By Kagomes_Luver2789
Part 3: "Lament of a Warrior"
-----------------------------------
I didn’t know what exactly had occurred after I saw the blood spilling down through the floorboards. It was like I had entered a state of pure bestial anger, my arms thrashing uncontrollably, leaving pain and destruction to everything that stood in their path. It could have lasted a few seconds, several minutes, or even hours for all I knew. What I do know, though, is that when I was finally able to form coherent thoughts again, everything, and everyone, lay motionless on the floor, beaten and torn to pieces, wallowing in a thick crimson bath…
* * *
She’s dead,
I thought. She’s dead…
As I sank to my knees on that blood-soaked floor, the revelation kept repeating inside of my mind, a mantra perpetuating itself into my deepest thoughts like an importunate headache that wouldn’t go away. It was all I could do to hold myself back from throwing another tantrum, like a child still infuriated of being deprived of an object he held dear.
I slowly crawled my way to where she was lying on the floor, cradling her head in my hands and holding her close to my chest, running my hands through the silky smooth hair of hers, still lively and still beautiful. I craned my head downwards and silently cried into those strands of wavy brown, letting my emotions spill out over her limp and lifeless body. I held her tightly, trying desperately to convince myself that she wasn’t dead, that my arms and my body were what kept her from moving, from being able to tell me ‘I’m okay’, and barely holding onto the belief that it was of my will that she was still, not because she was now in the grasp of death’s frail fingers. But even I, of such young age and erudition, could not pretend forever.
"Why…?" I quietly sobbed into her hair, "I could have stopped you… I should have stopped you…"
As I sat there in silence, mourning my beloved sister and dear friend, I became alert of the faint, yet distinct, snapping of branches out by the wood, near the rear of the manor. I quietly laid my sister down and moved to the opposite end of the dining room, where a pair of scimitars was hanging from the ceiling of the room. I paused in front of them, glancing at the face mirrored in the glistening steel. It was a face that still retained some of its youthfulness and ignorance, but it was also wary that it wouldn’t last forever. I lifted up the scimitars and placed the scabbards on my back, sliding both swords into them. I wasn’t sure if I was going to live through the entire night, and, frankly, I don’t think I cared. If I was going to die, I was going to die taking down all of those murderous bastards with me.
As I went to leave the house, I walked past a marble bust of grandfather towards the rear door of the manor. My grandfather was a revered man in Aires, and an accomplished martial artist, one of many in his family. Unfortunately for my grandfather, he had to pass his technique onto me instead of my father, breaking the long held tradition in our family after my father had abruptly declined when he was my age. My father, being the business-oriented man he was, had told him that he would "let others dirty their hands in trivial matters such as fighting". Ironically, it was also in front of the statue of my grandfather that my own father lay slain. You could even go so far as to say he was also…dirty.
I exited the rear entrance and headed towards the mouth of the forest, scimitars in hand and a BR55 rifle slung over my back. I had walked past a small armory on my way out, and decided I was better off if I took one with me, not wanting to take the risk of being at a disadvantage because of mere attacking distance. I couldn’t let that happen, and I wouldn’t. It would shame my family name, a faux pas that would haunt me afterwards.
If there was an afterward, that is.
I eyed my surroundings carefully as I wandered through the forest, jogging at a brisk pace through the entanglement of wood. The trees cast ominous shadows over the unleveled ground, dancing as the branches moved in rhythm with the wind. The leaves waltzed all over the soil as the breeze blew over them, providing a serene, silent melody to accompany the dance floor. It was a magnificent ballroom and I was the wrecking ball, bringing the sweet harmony to an abrupt and unexpected end.
By now, I was flying through the trees, my eyes shot open. I was looking for anyone, anything, to attack with my swords. My mind was racing with murderous thoughts once more, and I needed something to expel them upon before I would explode with burst of emotion and feral anger.
As I ran past a group of hollow trees, a voice called out behind me, and I instinctively lashed out with both scimitars at the tree I had rushed past. The surprise of hearing my name was quickly overshadowed by my bewilderment when my blades struck metal instead of wood. The unexpected clash of steel on steel resonated through my head, completely ringing out the raging entity that had captivated my mind and felling me from the force of the rebound. I was about to swing again at the person I had hit, but the voice called out my name once more.
"Eric!" he yelled, stepping out of the hollow tree where he had hid himself.
I watched as I made out a silhouette stepping from the tree into the shadows cast from the trees above, small patches of light playing on his face. Even though I couldn’t see well for the shadows, I instantly recognized his short form, and for a brief second, I felt my heart lift because I had finally met someone living, someone I knew. It was perhaps one of the most joyous four seconds of my life.
But then I finally remembered not just who he was, but what he was.
"You!" I yelled in anger, raising my arm to strike once more, lifting it above my head and bringing it down upon him.
Reacting with the most perfect of timed reflexes, he parried with his long and slender weapon while evading a stab from my other scimitar. His quick and sudden movements forced him from the dark shadows of the tree into the more open path of the forest, where the moonlight fully lit his physiognomy, all while erasing any shadow of a doubt of who he was.
"Juan Alvarez," I said, raising the blades I held into a formal battle stance, "You… will die."
* * *
"You… will die."
Perhaps just a tad bit over the top, but it was nothing I didn't expect to hear from a Guerrero. Especially this one of their entire lot. However, his brash exclamation was a clear warning that meant I needed to stay alert, lest he took me with my guard down.
In truth, it's not that I thought I couldn't hold my own against his formidable array of fighting techniques, just that I didn't want any "surprises", you can say. I knew much about him, but I didn't want to be caught offguard by something I had not been privvy to, so it was best to play it safe. In order to exact the revenge I I sought from him, I needed to maintain my focus and end it without mishap, or else I'd regret it if the confrontation evolved into a violent debacled.
Almost as soon as my train of thought departed, he violently swung his blade at me, giving me little room to maneuver with in terms of the time I had to evade and counter. As I ducked to avoid his sword, I brought my spear up to block a blow from the other, embedding it within the sturdy wooden handle. All it took was a light flick of my wrist and I had succeeded in ridding him of one of his weapons, disposing of the blade by kicking it off the staff behind me. As I turned towards him once more, a saw a shocked expression plastered over his face. He quickly tried to regain his composure, preparing another attack with the lone blade he had left in his grasp. He began to swing the blade upwards from the ground in a stroke that would have ultimately ended my life.
But I was faster.
I lunged forward, pinning his shoulder against a tree with the shaft of my spear and quickly wrenching the other scimitar from his hand. As the scimitar clanged against the rocky ground, he let out a weak, defeated sigh.
"And here I was looking to avenge my family," he said, looking up towards the cloudy night sky that loomed above us, "What a shameful way to die."
I was about to move on and deliver the finishing blow to finish my nemesis for good when that line struck me.
Avenge my family.
At first, I couldn't fathom what exactly he would need to avenge his family for. I believed it was he and his kind that had killed my own, but he came out all this way to do exactly what I had come for as well? It didn't make sense to me at all.
Well, not until I realized that the house a distance behind him was suddenly alight with flames, that is.
Surprised, I quickly turned back to face the direction in which my family's manor was, and even more grief struck me as I witnessed it being consumed by flames as well. Father... Mother! I silently mourned, recalling their tragic fates within the wooden walls of their home, their final resting place.
While all this was almost too much to bear, I knew I had to act somehow. Whether it be my last actions on this earth, or a stepping stone towards my true revenge, I had to do something. So I began to formulate a plot within the recesses of my mind, taking into consideration that those who had lit our homes were undoubtedly heading our way, making the time I had few and precious. However, there was a new obstacle in the formulation of my plan that I couldn't go around.
And it was standing right in front of me.
I went through all other possible solutions that would allow me to rid myself of this "problem" and still live to see the next day, but my results of my search were barren and fruitless. I had no other choice, aside death by those who murdered my family, and I wasn't about to let a household rivalry let that happen.
"Eric," I asked, trying to find a way to phrase the question right without make it seem too demanding. Finding no other way, though, I went on and bluntly stated my situation.
"I need your help."
The only question left to ponder now was "Will he accept?"...
--------------------------
Characters:
Kay El... and Zeus. yea. that's pretty much all of them.