Laputa

There is a story
That the earth remembers
That the trees whisper of
That men hunt relentlessly

Of a legend that evades
Of a myth that tempts
Of a castle in the sky

They were young

It began with the wind
That time brought to pass
The creation of the first constructs
That harnessed its power.

And as the wind continued
Man used it to toil the earth
Bringing the stone up
to reach for the heavens

Black smoke to rival the clouds
Monoliths to rival the mountains
But nothing to rival the skies

So man flew further
Cities rose up, leaving the ground
Machines plied the atmosphere
To rival the skies!

They were gods!

So man lost sight
Their ambitions turned on them
They had forgotten their origins
Falling back to the earth

The wind that raised them
Became their downfall
The earth that they had worked
Became their succour once more.

Only relics remained,
That the wind left alone
To remember of a time that was

A girl with a stone of light
who remembered what was
and Laputa

Du'rrald'un

Du'rrald'un

"The Lord of Flames"

  Recently, on my Facebook I posted a drawing of a dragon named Du'rrald'un, who declared himself as the "Lord of Flames." Du'rrald'un is actually a 'Dragon' I created for the novel I am attempting to write, although he is mostly a tangent to the main story, living almost 6000 years before the main events of the novel. I think it would be interesting to write more about him and reveal a little more of the lore of the world.

  Du'rrald'un is a Dragon, or rather, a D'ragonn. He was among the first born to the world by the works of Er'anade to fight the eternal war against Jal'mansar (which is an entirely different story altogether). After the purge of the world, D'ragonn went into hiding everywhere, amongst the later called 'Unknown Lands', then known as a section of Oshavia. During the Second Age, the D'ragonn rose out of hiding and, after much infighting, were brought under the rule of Du'rrald'un, who had managed to defeat all his opponents during the battle.

  Du'rrald'un was the D'ragonn that declared the conquest against the neighbouring Oldun, starting what would be known as the El Y'uarn D'ragonn; in stories: the Dragon War.

   Du'rrald'un declared himself as the Lord of Flames as his speciality within the field of do'ma, the special energies granted only to the D'ragonn, was used. Indeed, his usage of the energy into the conversion of fire was unsurpassed by any other D'ragonn until Ald'amener, who became his downfall in the end of the Y'uarn D'ragonn.

  He was described as having scales that were black as night, piercing red eyes and wings that stretched to the size of two other D'ragonn. Fearsome and fearless, he was the perfect example of a D'ragonn General during the eternal war, and indeed, was among the main contributors to the both wars he participated in. However, what brought about his downfall, was his pride.

  When Ald'amener and his human friend Ari'anor led the strike force of Ta'al into the heart of Du'rrald'un's base, he dismissed them and thought them to be no threat to his rule, long disbelieving the reports that Ald'amener had grown just as powerful as he in the human lands, when he had turned on his once leader. Thus, when the time came, Du'rrald'un was unprepared to face the Ta'al of both Ald'amener and Ari'anor, falling to them in battle. However, it was also this pride that lead to the destruction of all his enemies as well. Refusing to die, Du'rrald'un moulded a massive amount of do'ma within himself and let it explode, shattering his being, but also killing all living beings near him.

  Thus ended Du'rrald'un, Lord of Flames, who had been close to ruling the entire Oshavic continent. 

  

Delita's Advice

  The squawk of seagulls and other ocean birds rang over the glittering blue field that was the sea. On the wooden platforms, men hauled crates, boxes and chests into the waiting ships, laughing and joking all the while, almost drowning the calls of the creatures overhead. A woman walked pass them with a Chocobo tied on a lead, the bird shuffling after her obediently.

  Ramza had finally managed to fit on the last piece of armour properly, locking the clasp on his chest tight. His sword was already buckled to his waist; it never got far from him nowadays. With the number of ambushes and attacks he'd suffered since saving Mustadio, it never hurt to be prepared.

  Mustadio had gone off somewhere to check up on supplies, while Ramza had stayed behind to continue planning the rescue of the Princess from Lionel Castle, just a little longer. Sword and all, he couldn't have stopped Mustadio from racing off the ship like that, slightly green and sickly looking. The day-long boat ride had not done his insides any favours, and Ramza had not had the heart to tell him that it would be safer staying inside the boat; at least, until any patrols from Lionel Castle had passed.

  Opening the door to the outside, he stopped for a moment to breathe deeply, taking in the sea air, as opposed to the musty and slightly stale air of the cabin. The sunlight was refreshing compared to the glow of a lamp; he had hardly slept the previous night for worry.

  Stepping off the deck of the ship onto the solid grounds of the port, he took a quick glance around, warily looking for any uniforms or suspicious characters; it never hurt to be prepared.

  Surprisingly there were none. He looked closely everywhere and at everyone, but it really did seem like this little port was untouched. "Seems like there are no Lionel Troops in Warjilis," he murmured to himself, rubbing the pommel of his sword unconsciously. As he continued to look, however, one person caught his eye. In fact, that person was staring at him, wrapped in plain, white cloak, draped around his shoulders, with dark brown hair slicked back and a handsome face...

  "Delita! What are you doing here?" Ramza exclaimed, both in confusion and excitement. Their last farewell had been quite abrupt at Zirekile falls, and he had been thinking of Delita. Storming the Sand Rats' Cellars had been something similar to sneaking into a castle. Of course, against soldiers and not Death Corps troublemakers. Perhaps he could help.

  Ramza walked quickly up to him, and they began to stroll around the port. The town was a quiet one, with small groups of people walking here and there, sailors still busy loading goods onto their ships. Away from the dock, the tap of their boots against the stone floor began to be more noticeable. As much as they walked, Delita would not look at him.

  "Don't take our information network lightly." Delita said quietly, still refusing to look at Ramza.

  "Our?"

  Silence, for a few seconds, punctured by the continuous cry of sea birds.

  "Ramza, go back to Igros, for your own sake."

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "It's healthier for you to keep your business out of things like Princesses. Or Zodiac Stones."

  They both stopped walking simultaneously.

  "Delita, what are you..."

  "I know you're trying to rescue the Princess. Information network aside, it's something a man like you would do. But rescuing her from Cardinal Draclau will only save her from one problem." Delita finally looked at Ramza in the eye. Ramza remembered how he had looked before Teta's death. The face of a normal young man, sometimes unsure and unsettled, confused about his place in society, as a peasant taken in by a noble family. Now it was a face, brimming with confidence, sure of all his actions.

  "You're thinking of saving the Princess from a burning tower, but instead, you're just lifting her to a higher floor. I, can save her from all of them. I, can get her out of that tower"

  Ramza shook his head, frowning worriedly. "Delita, what do you mean? I don't understand what you're trying to say."

  Delita walked forward a little, back facing to him now. "The best methods don't always lead to the best results. Just remember that."

  He took another step, his boots tapping against the floor, before Ramza grabbed his shoulder. Ramza felt the coolness and hardness of armour underneath, felt the gentle indent of a crest on the shoulder guard. "Wait," he said, half angrily. "What are you planning? What... game are you playing with me?"

  Delita stopped moving. He looked at him for the last time.. "Larg, Goltana, your brothers- everyone; they're all caught up in the same flow, even if they haven't realised it yet." Turning his head back to face the front, he gently removed Ramza's hand. "Me? I'm just going against it."

  He walked forward slowly and steadily, Ramza watching his back sadly, before he stopped abruptly.

  "Don't die, Ramza," was all he said, before he turned the corner, and disappeared, leaving his old friend to mull over his words.

This might be copyright infringement, but I'm such a huge fan of Final Fantasy Tactics that I couldn't resist. You can probably expect more writings like these.

All rights go to Square Enix.

Nice Things

  "There's no real reason we shouldn't buy it," she said, lifting the lava lamp from off the shelf. The price tag made him wince: $149.99 Of course, the only reason why the $0.99 cents was there was to make the value look less, exactly like the way they put the extra two zeros on the back of potential cash prizes of lottery tickets.

  "But there's no reason we should buy it either," he groaned, "which is exactly why we shouldn't." He lifted his hand to pat his pocket, holding his wallet, stuffed full with $10 dollar bills, $50 dollar bills, $100 dollar bills and several assorted credit cards. No coins; he never endeared, nor endured coins: they were merely bulky and useless. He always threw the change in whatever donation box he could find. Perhaps the nearest beggar. He clutched the wallet in his pants tighter to him, until the fabric of his pants wrinkled, deciding never to let go.

  The woman smiled lovingly at the lamp, before placing it in the cart filled with other useless objects, as he viewed them. Solar powered lamp, several types of cheese graters, cookie cutters and all sorts of junk. His wallet was pressured fit to burst. Why should he be wasting his funds on those?

  "But we never have nice things!"

  "Do we have the money for that?"

  Both of them exclaimed at the same time.

Peace

Tread softly on the grass beneath your feet.
Stroll gently upon the sand that encircles you
Walk lightly in the water that envelops your legs.

There's a treasure there that's harder to find,
Then pearls and diamonds and gold.
Peace.