Happy Halloween! Here I sit, in my Raistlin costume, searching for something fun and scary to do, and what could be scarier than my lousy writing?
I feel like there's something I should be saying about this chapter, some disclaimer to make or something, but I can't remember, as I got very little sleep last night (darned cast party)(jk; it was fun)…the only thing I can think of kind of speaks for itself: When Raistlin speaks telepathically it's bold and underlined, whereas Feanor's speech is just bold.
I don't own anything…in fact, I don't even know whom I should cite as owning the new character (please excuse the randomness of the first scene here; some of it is, word for word, the script of the American version of the game).
Yeah, I'm still being bothered by the feeling that I'm omitting something, so if you find it, complain and I'll give my reasoning. Because there was reasoning. For whatever it was.
Anyway, here's the first chapter of the REMSG sequel sequel, which by a unanimous vote is entitled:
Dark Chest of Wonders, Chapter One: The Obligatory "Another Quest Is Beginning! Wheet-Whooo!" Chapter (Please Excuse My Tsubasa Reference)
"Once I had a dream…and this is it."
"Lyon! Wait! Don't close your eyes! I'm going to save you! I'll find a way! I…"
"No, don't…" He was tired, so very tired. His body had not been his own for so long, and now that it was he had no time left to live in it. The wounds were too grievous…holes in his flesh like the holes in his soul, carved there by the influence of the foul Stone and its captive. It would not be long now. But he had one last thing to say to his best friend before he gave in to the darkness encroaching on his vision. "Thanks, anyway. It was all my fault…don't look so sad." He smiled feebly, trying to be lighthearted. "C'mon, Ephraim, smile like you used to…"
The strain claimed him; the last thing he heard as he slipped away was his name, called one last time by the man who had killed him to save his spirit.
Oh, Ephraim…I wish I could make it up to you…I wish there was somewhere I could go, something I could do…to make up for what I've done…to get a second chance…a chance to get over this, this the horrible truth…to…recover… Then he could not even think anymore, and the blessed darkness swallowed him, carrying him away…
…only to deposit him in a disheveled heap, confused and wincing, on a sandy desolate beach. Next to him stretched a mirror-flat grey sea; in the distance plateau-like cliffs loomed far above his head.
Shaking sand out of his hair, Lyon stood but could recognize nothing. He wasn't in Grado…probably not even in Magvel. If this was Death, then it was certainly a dreary place.
Lonely, too. Perhaps that was his punishment, to wander monotonal landscapes forever, with no one to talk to…no answers…nothing but the hole carved in his soul by his misguided crusade.
A noise behind him made him turn; was he wrong in believing a lifetime (deathtime?) of isolation awaited him. Although, seeing what approached, Lyon found himself deciding loneliness would be preferable. He backed up, tripped over his long robes, scrambled back to his feet, and ran. Once he'd recovered his strength, he could stand his ground.
But not now. Not against…that. Wondering faintly if one could die twice, Prince Lyon of Grado turned and ran for his afterlife.
Something heavy and black had landed on Maedhros's back; something else was sticking into his side. Reaching out, Maedhros felt along the object prodding him: clawlike, clutching a hard multifaceted object. Raistlin's staff. Then, above him…Raistlin. And below…
"Elbereth Gilthoniel!" Maedhros jumped up, sending Raistlin rolling off his back; the mage retched wretchedly. "Ken! Are you all right? Has anything broken?"
"I think my wings are dead," came a muffled complaint, and Lucemon stood towards the end of the strange aisle in which they lay. Walking over to the groaning Ken, the angel kicked the boy. "Hey! Schizo's talking to you! Get up!"
Ken's blue eyes snapped open; he sat up and stared around. "I don't believe it," he said in a strained voice. "How did we get here?"
"You screamed like a thousand demons were rending your soul in twain," Roger replied lazily, rounding the corner of the aisle. Seeing Raistlin on the ground, seemingly still unconscious, he smiled broadly and knelt down.
"Don't touch it!" There was a crackling sound, and Roger yelped in pain. Standing, Raistlin retrieved his staff from Roger's numb fingers and surveyed the surroundings. "Where's the warrior?" he asked. "I dare not hope we left him behind."
"I'm here." Anakin walked over, looked down at Ken. "What's wrong with him?"
"Hey, what's going on over—Ken! What are you doing on the floor? Get up! Who are these people? What's going on?"
"Hello, Yolei," Ken shakily told the bespectacled girl helping him to his feet as the rest of the group simply stared. "These are my new friends."
There was a collective snort of derisive laughter from all parties referenced; Maedhros marveled that his father hadn't chimed in. Then he frowned. "Father? Are you there?"
I am here, came the voice. Yet I do not claim to be your father. I have no sons. I have nothing. All is nothing.
He sounded more shocked and dazed than bitter. With a pang of sympathy, Maedhros understood: the Silmaril. Feanor was mourning far more than the loss of a jewel. His heart and hopes had descended into the Sea as well. "Father…"
Rejoin your precious friends and leave me be. They need you, though why I cannot fathom. Don't they know you'll only let them down?
"I will never let anyone down again!" retorted Maedhros, a bit more loudly than intended to. As usual, everyone looked at him; apparently the novelty of his discussions with his father hadn't worn off. Roger smirked. "Excellent. Then illuminate for us…what in the world is going on?"
Maedhros would have given up not only his hand again but his entire right arm for the answer to that exact question. Sighing and seeking a way to leave the limelight, he used an old diplomatic trick from his war days. "I think that query can best be answered by the person who had my handbook the longest. Raistlin, please."
"As you wish," the archmage replied, his eyes glinting; in their golden depths Maedhros saw clearly that the black-robed man understood the elf's thoughts perfectly. "The answer is a simple one. We have been assigned yet another task, as our last resulted in such abysmal failure." His eyes rested on Roger as he hissed the final word. The Duke bristled at the implication.
Maedhros moved to intervene, but stopped short upon hearing yet another voice in his head: surprisingly, Raistlin's.
Don't bother, elf. He cannot harm me. Focus on your task. The boy Ken, it seems, recognizes this place. Follow him, and you will find your objective.
Silence! I am speaking to you thusly because I do not wish to be overheard. We must leave the angel, warrior, and so-called wizard behind if you are to achieve your goal. They will only get in the way.
Speaking of in the way, human, leave this body! It is intolerable enough I must suffer my son's presence without having you butting in here too.
Ah, but I have not left my body, have I?
More's the pity. You're hardly an object of great beauty. Feanor in his distraught state was getting petty.
This from the elf without a body at all. You have no leg to stand on and you know it. Apparently so was Raistlin.
"You will PAY for such an insult!" Maedhros's mouth exclaimed, and he found himself on his feet, sword drawn. Anakin ignited his lightsaber, searching for the enemy.
"All right, mister, that's quite enough! Both of you, put those away before you hurt somebody! Ken, who are these people? When my parents come home, they'll flip!" The tall human girl elbowed her way into the group, brown eyes flashing behind large round spectacles. "I'm supposed to be running the store and you're freaking out all our customers! See, there's nobody left!"
"We're here," Lucemon offered.
"Shut up," Roger, Anakin, Raistlin, and Maedhros said automatically. Hurt, the angel stuck out his tongue and sat down, sulking. Ken, ignoring all of them, continued conversing with the girl in low tones, which Maedhros's keen elven hearing nonetheless picked up.
"What are you doing here?"
"A Phase Three, I think."
what? Ken, I don't…"
"I'm sorry. It's a long story, and I don't have the time. Please, just tell me something. Has anything strange happened in the digital world lately?"
"How should I know? I've been working, Ken, I wish you'd just…"
"I don't have time. I need to use your computer!"
Ken snapped the last order with such tension in his voice that the girl stepped backwards, taken aback. Raistlin sidled over to Maedhros, pretended to read the contents of a shelf.
Eavesdropping? Feanor wondered to his son, but apparently the mental link once forged transported everything.
We are much alike, Sir Elf. Raistlin refused to meet Maedhros's eyes, but his "voice" gained in urgency. If we are to leave, we should leave soon.
And go where? Out into an alien world? Only a fool sets off with no plan in mind!
Ah, but I have a plan. Which, I think, is more than can be said for several of your ventures.
"What, if I may interrupt, makes you think I enjoy having a convention of voices resonating through my brain!" Maedhros hissed. "All right, mage. We'll follow your plan; or at least, the part about letting Ken take the lead." He looked up as Anakin, who had wandered away to investigate the area, knocked over a display by accident and reassembled it using the Force, causing two teenagers entering the store to abruptly turn and leave. "Actually, on second thought, we shall follow the whole thing."
The girl was leading Ken behind a counter. Raistlin and Maedhros followed. "You three," Maedhros told Roger, "stay here. Our target could be anywhere. We'll interrogate her and report back."
Roger, smiling, showed all his teeth. "Of course."
"Why," muttered Maedhros to no one in particular as he turned away, "do I feel like I'm the one being used as a pawn?"
Yolei, relieved, leaned against the door of her apartment. They were gone, whoever they had been; Ken hadn't been very cooperative. She hated when he got like that, so resolved in one course of action that he couldn't see the alternatives. The last time he'd gotten like that, she'd had to slap him.
But on the other hand, his boyish stubbornness was rather endearing…
Rubbing her suddenly flushed cheeks and searching for something else to think about, she realized she'd given the strangers her brother's imported American shirts as disguises. Oh well. He'd deal. They all would have to…what was Ken dealing with, anyway, that he couldn't let her or any of the others help him? He'd rushed them all up to her apartment (using the stairs, too, of all things; the elevator, he claimed, was "too modern" for his new friends to comprehend) only to realize he shouldn't open a digital gate until he had Wormmon in tow. So off they all ran to the bus stop, in Yolei's brother's clothes, leaving her alone and slightly frazzled. Boy, was Ken going to get an earful from her when he got back! She had half a mind to call Davis and the others anyway; Ken also had a habit of biting off way more than he could chew yet insisting it was "his fight" alone.
Alone. She wasn't alone anymore, entering the convenience store her parents operated on the ground floor of her apartment building. Those other people were still here. The bearded man was smiling, though; that was a good sign. He wasn't angry.
But then again, Yolei thought as the three approached her, two of them changing forms and brandishing their weapons, that isn't such a good sign after all.
Reaching for the phone, she realized, I should probably warn Ken…
She barely got the chance.
a/n: Yeah, yeah, short chapter, so sue me.
Html: No, it's not! So there! Mwahahahahahahaha! The magic of the site's formatting triumphed over even your formidable clerical powers!
Mirowood: I forgot to tell you: I read a Trigun manga! We're going to put them into the collection at the library…and you can see how Raist and Roger interact. Chumy, huh? Sorry, your guess wasn't right…but at least good ol' Lyon showed up now. I promise they will meet him soon. My brother only showed me the Ephraim ending; he was willing to replay the game for me once but after that he ran out of files…yes, I did watch the kid play essentially all of Fire Emblem.
Crysania Lomiel Moredhel: has a free download of "Raistlin and the Rose," if you're interested….Maglor will, sadly, not be showing up in here, but you better believe there will be at least one short story in which he makes an appearance.
Abbie: Ah, Revered Daughter. I know you are not joking in my affections for me; I only wish you were. Okay, I'll go out of character now. Thanks for reviewing as always, and I hope to keep the Raist&Roger going for quite some time. They make good foils: one charming people into submission, the other insulting them…
Sqrt(-1): Oh, I get it now! Sorry bout that. As for your suggestion, I have this whole story mapped out so I can't really include them now, but there's always that anthology…Wormtongue….hmmmm….I'm sensing possibilities here….and Gollum is already on the list on my blog….I can see Feanor's reaction to the Third Age ("I don't do that 'fading' thing; the glory of the Elves should endure forever, but that's what you get for following the descendents of my half-brother…")
That's it for now. I'm hyper and tired at the same time. Pardon me.
Next chapter will be a while; I have to write it, not just type.