Thread Description
Requiem is an original story by myself, my monikers are Mikuchi and D.C.S.

Requiem, also to be known as Requiem X is a passion project of mine that I have been brooding on for many years now. I plan on making an RPG out of it at some point, but for now I want to write. It is something I have thought about much, and it is not something I am willing to sell or monetize yet, if ever. Requiem is a story that I am making for myself, so that I can say that I have created, so that I can pour my heart into something I truly love. I have decided to share it, for the first time, with you all first. I am not open to criticism, and any questions can be asked in the meta-thread. I would appreciate commentary, but please remember that I am writing Requiem for myself, and from my own mind and heart. I hope you enjoy it, but it's okay if you don't. Commentary should probably be made in a separate thread, so that this one can remain tidy for the story.

Without further adieu, I present to you my story.

Requiem Zero

By ~D.C.S

A light shines on a small village, a particular ray beaming into a particular window, into the eyes of someone who has yet to awaken. They tussle in their sleep, half caught in the limbo of their mind between dream and reality, awake enough to know, but still sleeping yet enough to imagine. Time seems frozen in these few humble minutes, and the light continues ever so radiantly to coax them out of their soft, illusory embrace.

"Can you see?"

"Can I see..?"

"Can you see it? Maybe if you focus a little more.."

The young soul focuses their mind towards the illusory world hidden in their mind. Their thoughts shift back and forth, and a world of vague familiarity comes into view, and they answer;

"I see.. something.."

"What can you see?" the light replied.

"I see... a field. I see myself, and someone I've always known.. but there are more."

"Who are you?" the young soul asks.

"I am you, silly." the light replied.

"Oh, that's right.. I see people.. people that I love, and then.."

The scene focuses more and the youth begins to cold sweat in their sleep. What were once two beautiful fields divided by a single dirt road were now the same field of green pastures, beautifully glistening flowers, friends standing side by side, but now on the other side parallel to them stands a field of fire, corpses, an oppressive air of insanity and vindictive emotions, dark clouds looming overhead and a single man standing, facing the group directly. The scene focuses more, more vividly than any dream had the right to be.

The group begins to take clearer shape; Among them stood a young girl with blonded-cherry shoulder-length hair, fair and lightly tanned white skin, blue eyes that shift into a lighter hue near the top of the iris, a traveler's gown of custom design woven by a beloved caretaker that yelled the aesthetic of a rural countryside that clung to her petite figure. She stood a mere five feet tall exactly, a thirteen year old young girl who stared onward not in horror, but with a strong resolve to save something. She stood at the front, with clear emotions and a hint of sadness behind her expression, knowing that she had to make a difficult decision or something terrible might happen.

Aside her stands a companion; The tail of a shadow dragon dragged out from the shape of an otherwise normal human, though normal seems to be a bit of a stretch. The individual had dark, shoulder-blade long hair, fiery crimson eyes and blackened but well kept horns atop of his head. His jaw was reasonably masculine, his gaze deep and in contrast to the girl, his called a desire to protect, and to stop what he saw before him. He stood significantly taller, at 5'11, an arm that is coated in armored dragon scales and his fingers being dragon-like talons, all of which ended mid bicep leading to a shirt which was short-cut, showing off his opposite shoulder, abdominals, and waistline in an almost arabic style. In his opposite, left hand was merely an armored glove, and several odd attachments near the top which held small throwing weapons. His outfit ended in bottom set that seemed more suited for heavy combat, mostly tempered steel and flame-proof magic-laced cloth.

To her opposite side stood a humble warrior, a man with brown mid-length hair, blue eyes, a full set of plate armor and a smaller pair of horns on his head, a tail coming from his rear that was far lighter, more red, and more armor-scaled than the nimble appearance of the shadow dragon. On closer appearance, this man was far more dragon-like than the other, with a red-green hue shift in his scales and a much larger frame to boot. He was a warrior, a strong, heavy set combatant who's armor showed the insignia of a goddess unknown to the youth. It was clear with this red-green appearance that he was the meat-wall of the group, a protective paladin who served the light, where as the crest had a vague, odd resemblance to the young girl he stood aside, ready to get in front of at a heartbeat's notice.

Behind the three stood a meek looking mage, who was far less resolved and was crying at the scene before her. It was clear that she was an introvert by the looks of her red hair, her swirly glasses which hid pink eyes, her cute blue mages cap and overly-decorated robe that honestly didn't fit her physical aesthetic too well, along with the way she clung to her larger-than-life wand as if to hide behind it. The black mage, far too timid to do anything on her own was far too afraid of the sight before her, but the group emboldened her, she stayed strong doing her best with her more humble appearance ready at request to do anything she could to protect the only people who have ever called her "friend".

And at the back, sitting beside the black mage stood a man holding a tome, a scholar perhaps, but also clearly the eldest of the party. He stood fairly slim, but built well enough, and his short hair and beard gave him the appearance of a wise, middle aged sorcerer. The tome in his hand was a tome of summoning, but of summoning what once cannot say. The man wore a simple pair of noble clothes, well fit and custom tailored, though there was nothing too expensive or fancy about them. A pair of long, dark blue-green pants, a vest and white undershirt, a pair of aristocratic glasses and kind, longing blue eyes underneath. He looked forward in caution, his hand on his tome ready to act at a moments notice to defend himself, it was clear he was only in for the ride.

And finally, at the opposite end of it all stood one man, a man with deteriorating sanity in his gaze, though much of his appearance remained foggy to the youth who dreams this scene. He was basked in a dark red, bloodied cloak, the blood fresh and spilling from the corpses of two women, dragoons as they are called, and a driver to the destroyed carriage. The scene was gruesome, horrible, the bellies of the two women split open and what appeared to be a small hand sticking from the fatal wound of one.. She was pregnant. The man merely stood there, his irises hazy and blurry, a look of insanity fueled rage blocking his vision, blocking his sanity, his reason, his heart.

He stood on the opposite side of the field, his hair silvered far too soon for his age and his stature ravenous and feralized, a dark armor clinging to him under his red cloak, but the most notable feature being his right arm. The man carried no sword, no weapons, but his arm- it was three-clawed, it was dark, unmistakably and most notably it had a bloodshot eye glaring directly at the party's dragoons with a malicious blood thirst. The arm seemed distorted at this point, and his body malnourished, but he was muscular, that much was certain, and he was reasonably tall at 6'0 exactly. He was pale, he was sleep deprived, he was clearly not in his right mind, and from the glance at the scene the only thing one could tell was that he was to blame for the death and destruction, the fire, the atrocities. And it was very clear that the party was going to be attacked by this evil man.

The light asks; "What will you do..?"

The youth responds; "I.." as their gaze shifts over to the girl's in a first person view, the voice's source, their eyes opening and breaking their slumber- "I want to stop him!!"

The girl wakes up, her blonded-cherry hair a mess on her pillow and a light sweat covering her face. She looks around, and as she soon forgets most of the scene, she sits up and wipes off her face. Her father-figure, her guardian rushes in.

He asks; "Is everything alright? You were yelling about something??"

She responds; "It's okay dad, I just had an odd dream.. I.. don't remember but it was too real.."

He replies back; "You've always been such a frail girl, Mariota... Don't worry me like that. Do you want breakfast?"

Mariota responds with a nod, getting out of bed. "I'll be down in a minute! What are we having?" to which her father responds "Eggs and sausage, with a side of choko-fruit, your favorite!". She smiles and gets changed into her casual wear, brushing her hair with the brush her late mother had given to her, before tying her shoulder-length hair in a cute pink ribbon, heading out of her room and down the stairs.

______________________________________________________________Chapter Zero, Part Zero______________________________________________________________

The difficulty of putting this next part into words for me is difficult to overstate, I've rewritten this at least 12 times and still am not satisfied with it. I'll post it eventually, but at the moment it's just not seeming right to me. I'll just edit this post when it's ready, I'm getting kind of annoyed about not saying anything about this.