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- Aug 11, 2010
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Re: Kingdom Hearts Eclipse
Fool! Malik rubbed his temples. Keyblade wielders were all the same. So wrapped in their own delusions of self-grandeur they were that they either neglected to see or deliberately ignored the error in their choices. Walking, talking, breathing with the conviction that they were ineffable. One tier above the rest, purely because the Keyblade had chosen them. It was exactly this arrogance that bred the god complex that, though initially saved Worlds, always resulted in their own deaths. Was separating from the other Keybladers really such a good idea? Had he not heard of the saying about strength in numbers? United we stand, divided we fall? Legions of Keyblade wielders have fallen to the Eclipse King. What makes you think one on his own would make a difference?
The Keyblade wielder had his back turned. Malik contemplated casting a Magnet spell and dragging the Keyblader back with him. He would never suspect the attack. But then resisted, and pondered: what would his brother do? Hunter was always so eloquent.
Arcing into a backflip, Hunter felt air rush over his midriff. He knew he would see the point of a narrow blade staring straight at him if he looked down. The Marshal was fast, and luck alone had saved him from being impaled. But luck was running out. He continued the motion, swinging his legs into the air, all the while feeling solid contact beneath his feet. A controlled Gravity spell had followed Hunter’s feet, pulling loose earth from the ground and then compressing it into a solid mass. The growing mass deflected the Marshal’s arm on its upward trajectory. The blade flew out of his hand.
The spell ended when Hunter’s feet reached the peak of the backflip, but the ball of compressed earth continued its ascent perpendicular to the ground, motion powered by momentum. Hands pushed off the ground, and for a fraction of a second Hunter was airborne, body curved like the lip of a crescent. As he landed, the boulder began its descent.
Without even pause to catch his breath, Hunter cast Magnet in the area immediately in front of the Marshal. Luminous grey polygons erupted, and an unexplainable suction pulled both the Marshal and the boulder together. The corner of Hunter’s lip flinched. His fight was not with the Marshal; it was with the Eclipse King. To inflict upon another life so much violence, even if for self-defense, tied a heavy weight to his heart. There was no need for death. Indeed, he had hoped that the Marshals could be peacefully reintegrated into society after the Keybladers defeated the tyrant. The Keyblade wielders would defeat him, wouldn’t they? But the preservation of his life far outweighed any qualms he may have had with his morals. The force of impact shattered the ball of earth and left the Marshal incapacitated.
Hunter stood there, breathing in ragged gasps, watching the aftermath of his fight. He knew he was lucky to have survived. All around him was the orchestra of battle—cries of the wounded, the tinkle of distant clashing metal, the drumbeat of explosions that shook the earth. There was no hope left for this world. It was time to say his goodbyes and leave for new hope. He approached the unconscious body, healed the superficial injuries, and made way for the Castle, solemn and shaken.
Why does He fight? So much pain, so much suffering. Why does He do it?
‘Wait!’ Malik shouted. The din of civilian panic made it hard to concentrate. If for once these people could learn to control their tongues… ‘Your presence with the civilians is doubly foolish.’ The Keyblade wielder stopped midstep.
Yes, Malik thought. Now appeal to his emotions.
‘I have a brother, you know. Last I saw, he was engaged in some act of peril or another.’ He continued, full volume. ‘With a Marshal,’ he added. ‘Now I couldn’t help but notice that peculiar glow coming from that pouch on your hip. I’m hedging my bets it’s pixie dust!’
Keyblade wielders love making heroes out of themselves. Present him an opportunity he can’t resist.
‘What I wouldn’t give to fly my brother out of harm’s way. After all, we’re no wielders of the Keyblade; what could we possibly do to save our own skins? Please help him the same way I’ve helped you. Only with your help can either of us hope to escape from this forlorn planet.’ Malik rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘He’s this way.’
Fool! Malik rubbed his temples. Keyblade wielders were all the same. So wrapped in their own delusions of self-grandeur they were that they either neglected to see or deliberately ignored the error in their choices. Walking, talking, breathing with the conviction that they were ineffable. One tier above the rest, purely because the Keyblade had chosen them. It was exactly this arrogance that bred the god complex that, though initially saved Worlds, always resulted in their own deaths. Was separating from the other Keybladers really such a good idea? Had he not heard of the saying about strength in numbers? United we stand, divided we fall? Legions of Keyblade wielders have fallen to the Eclipse King. What makes you think one on his own would make a difference?
The Keyblade wielder had his back turned. Malik contemplated casting a Magnet spell and dragging the Keyblader back with him. He would never suspect the attack. But then resisted, and pondered: what would his brother do? Hunter was always so eloquent.
Arcing into a backflip, Hunter felt air rush over his midriff. He knew he would see the point of a narrow blade staring straight at him if he looked down. The Marshal was fast, and luck alone had saved him from being impaled. But luck was running out. He continued the motion, swinging his legs into the air, all the while feeling solid contact beneath his feet. A controlled Gravity spell had followed Hunter’s feet, pulling loose earth from the ground and then compressing it into a solid mass. The growing mass deflected the Marshal’s arm on its upward trajectory. The blade flew out of his hand.
The spell ended when Hunter’s feet reached the peak of the backflip, but the ball of compressed earth continued its ascent perpendicular to the ground, motion powered by momentum. Hands pushed off the ground, and for a fraction of a second Hunter was airborne, body curved like the lip of a crescent. As he landed, the boulder began its descent.
Without even pause to catch his breath, Hunter cast Magnet in the area immediately in front of the Marshal. Luminous grey polygons erupted, and an unexplainable suction pulled both the Marshal and the boulder together. The corner of Hunter’s lip flinched. His fight was not with the Marshal; it was with the Eclipse King. To inflict upon another life so much violence, even if for self-defense, tied a heavy weight to his heart. There was no need for death. Indeed, he had hoped that the Marshals could be peacefully reintegrated into society after the Keybladers defeated the tyrant. The Keyblade wielders would defeat him, wouldn’t they? But the preservation of his life far outweighed any qualms he may have had with his morals. The force of impact shattered the ball of earth and left the Marshal incapacitated.
Hunter stood there, breathing in ragged gasps, watching the aftermath of his fight. He knew he was lucky to have survived. All around him was the orchestra of battle—cries of the wounded, the tinkle of distant clashing metal, the drumbeat of explosions that shook the earth. There was no hope left for this world. It was time to say his goodbyes and leave for new hope. He approached the unconscious body, healed the superficial injuries, and made way for the Castle, solemn and shaken.
Why does He fight? So much pain, so much suffering. Why does He do it?
‘Wait!’ Malik shouted. The din of civilian panic made it hard to concentrate. If for once these people could learn to control their tongues… ‘Your presence with the civilians is doubly foolish.’ The Keyblade wielder stopped midstep.
Yes, Malik thought. Now appeal to his emotions.
‘I have a brother, you know. Last I saw, he was engaged in some act of peril or another.’ He continued, full volume. ‘With a Marshal,’ he added. ‘Now I couldn’t help but notice that peculiar glow coming from that pouch on your hip. I’m hedging my bets it’s pixie dust!’
Keyblade wielders love making heroes out of themselves. Present him an opportunity he can’t resist.
‘What I wouldn’t give to fly my brother out of harm’s way. After all, we’re no wielders of the Keyblade; what could we possibly do to save our own skins? Please help him the same way I’ve helped you. Only with your help can either of us hope to escape from this forlorn planet.’ Malik rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘He’s this way.’