05-13-2007, 03:15 AM
((I?ve decided to change my storyline completely, so if you?ve read my sign-up post, just disregard that part.))
Planet Earth, a magnificent palace decorated with azure skies, sapphire waters, and emerald masses that house a population of constant change and evolution. The grassy plains weaved with the soft breeze; the ridged waters elegantly galloped toward the awaiting lands; and the mothers of the wild nursed their young while the males sat lazily in comfort. It was as normal a day as any other. On the opposing side of the planet, deep within a frosted island of Antarctica, the mass of clouds flowing over the zero degree oceans suddenly fractured as a circular window opened, revealing the blazing sun which burned eternal, for but a moment, before the dusky veil closed shut.
The source of the rupture became visible as it lurched out from the hazy sky, descending upon a mammoth chunk of ice which sat motionless within the mysterious waters. The roaring thrusters at the rear of the craft dimmed as the ship leveled out and nestled itself onto the frozen platform. A plethora of steam purged from twin holes, screaming like a tea-kettle as a steel hatch unfastened and slid down onto the glacier?s peak.
Suddenly, a cyan-skinned male figure was drug out from the airship before being tossed out like a sack of potatoes; he was badly injured and appeared to have been beaten to within an inch of his life, considering he was barely conscious. The beauty of his white hair was hidden beneath the spattered blood that decorated it. His clothing had also been ripped to shreds; almost nothing remained but the cloth that covered his private parts, luckily for everyone that portion was still in tact.
Without a word the guards continued back to the ship and took off as quickly as they came, leaving the battered figure for dead. He was in the middle of no where, without any source of direction or composure. He was surrounded by an empty field of water and ice, without any signs of natural life.
---
It had been seven long and painful years since that retched day. Now, for the better part of a decade, the same warrior that had been tossed away like garbage roamed the lands aimlessly, searching for anything that would prove his existence absolute; no such luck so far. He is actually still unaware of how he was rescued, let alone who rescued him; another piece of the scattered puzzle he wishes to collect.
Fortunately for him, his untimely memory remained with him. Spice was his name; in his previous life he was a well regarded Lieutenant of the Sixth Division Retrieval Unit. However, as fate would have it, he defied the orders of his Commander and jeopardized the mission at hand in order to save the life of a small child. Such an act was forbidden, and where he came from, the consequences for insubordination were severe; Banishment, to be exact.
Now, Spice resides within the spiral Galaxy where planet Earth currently holds the central populous. The Makyo-jin soon found that light was not completely vanquished from his destiny; he would not have to live life as a miniscule peasant any longer. Something big was coming, something that would alter his linear fate, forging a path to redemption and retribution. Dante?s Abyss would be his cornerstone, but it was up to him to use this opportunity in order to rise to the top and return to his home-world as a cleansed warrior; and to see his family once again.
Trotting through the intercity walkway, Spice dragged himself onward; hunched over like an old decrepit man. The brown, blood-stained raggedy cloak that he donned trailed behind him and his crestfallen eyes remained hidden beneath a shroud of gloom. The traces of cyan-skinned that peaked out from under the tattered guise were also dirtied, as though he had bathed in mud like a swine. A familiar sound of fists against flesh sounded within his ear, sparking a chain of endless memories about his past battles almost instantly. He quickly jerked his head to the side, revealing a single crimson eye that gazed upon a sign that read ?Burter?s Dojo.?
?Time to see if I still got it?? thought the cyan fighter to himself. As he entered the archway he crossed paths with another warrior who shared a similar skin-tone, but their similarities ended there, for this warrior seemed rather egocentric in nature. The two combatants locked eyes; the orange haired fighter standing opposite of him gave Spice a complaisant glare before nudging him out of the way and walking out the door. The makyo merely sighed and continue to the center of the dojo and waited. What exactly he was waiting for was unclear at the moment; he was just?waiting.
Planet Earth, a magnificent palace decorated with azure skies, sapphire waters, and emerald masses that house a population of constant change and evolution. The grassy plains weaved with the soft breeze; the ridged waters elegantly galloped toward the awaiting lands; and the mothers of the wild nursed their young while the males sat lazily in comfort. It was as normal a day as any other. On the opposing side of the planet, deep within a frosted island of Antarctica, the mass of clouds flowing over the zero degree oceans suddenly fractured as a circular window opened, revealing the blazing sun which burned eternal, for but a moment, before the dusky veil closed shut.
The source of the rupture became visible as it lurched out from the hazy sky, descending upon a mammoth chunk of ice which sat motionless within the mysterious waters. The roaring thrusters at the rear of the craft dimmed as the ship leveled out and nestled itself onto the frozen platform. A plethora of steam purged from twin holes, screaming like a tea-kettle as a steel hatch unfastened and slid down onto the glacier?s peak.
Suddenly, a cyan-skinned male figure was drug out from the airship before being tossed out like a sack of potatoes; he was badly injured and appeared to have been beaten to within an inch of his life, considering he was barely conscious. The beauty of his white hair was hidden beneath the spattered blood that decorated it. His clothing had also been ripped to shreds; almost nothing remained but the cloth that covered his private parts, luckily for everyone that portion was still in tact.
Without a word the guards continued back to the ship and took off as quickly as they came, leaving the battered figure for dead. He was in the middle of no where, without any source of direction or composure. He was surrounded by an empty field of water and ice, without any signs of natural life.
---
It had been seven long and painful years since that retched day. Now, for the better part of a decade, the same warrior that had been tossed away like garbage roamed the lands aimlessly, searching for anything that would prove his existence absolute; no such luck so far. He is actually still unaware of how he was rescued, let alone who rescued him; another piece of the scattered puzzle he wishes to collect.
Fortunately for him, his untimely memory remained with him. Spice was his name; in his previous life he was a well regarded Lieutenant of the Sixth Division Retrieval Unit. However, as fate would have it, he defied the orders of his Commander and jeopardized the mission at hand in order to save the life of a small child. Such an act was forbidden, and where he came from, the consequences for insubordination were severe; Banishment, to be exact.
Now, Spice resides within the spiral Galaxy where planet Earth currently holds the central populous. The Makyo-jin soon found that light was not completely vanquished from his destiny; he would not have to live life as a miniscule peasant any longer. Something big was coming, something that would alter his linear fate, forging a path to redemption and retribution. Dante?s Abyss would be his cornerstone, but it was up to him to use this opportunity in order to rise to the top and return to his home-world as a cleansed warrior; and to see his family once again.
Trotting through the intercity walkway, Spice dragged himself onward; hunched over like an old decrepit man. The brown, blood-stained raggedy cloak that he donned trailed behind him and his crestfallen eyes remained hidden beneath a shroud of gloom. The traces of cyan-skinned that peaked out from under the tattered guise were also dirtied, as though he had bathed in mud like a swine. A familiar sound of fists against flesh sounded within his ear, sparking a chain of endless memories about his past battles almost instantly. He quickly jerked his head to the side, revealing a single crimson eye that gazed upon a sign that read ?Burter?s Dojo.?
?Time to see if I still got it?? thought the cyan fighter to himself. As he entered the archway he crossed paths with another warrior who shared a similar skin-tone, but their similarities ended there, for this warrior seemed rather egocentric in nature. The two combatants locked eyes; the orange haired fighter standing opposite of him gave Spice a complaisant glare before nudging him out of the way and walking out the door. The makyo merely sighed and continue to the center of the dojo and waited. What exactly he was waiting for was unclear at the moment; he was just?waiting.