Post by Yugo Ryan on Oct 1, 2018 14:52:15 GMT -5
So, after my resurgence again here, I swung by to check my old Neopets account and ended up with an urge to try my hand at writing for the NT again for the first time in a LONG time. I'm not sure how likely it is for me to see this project through to the end, let alone how likely it is to make the cut, but it's been so long I'm sure I'm probably a bit rusty so I figured I'd present the rough draft of the first part here to get some thoughts on the narration style and whatnot.
The history of the faeries is one shrouded in mystery. It is often unclear if even the faeries themselves understand their own past. Conflicts seem driven by nothing more than tradition, and if pressed, they often answer simply with "it is the right thing", or some rant concerning their "duty". Light faeries and dark faeries clash often over trivial matters. A dark faerie plays a prank upon some unsuspecting owner or pet, and suddenly a self-righteous light faerie, just happening by, declares war. Or, perhaps, a light faerie rewards a pet for performing some absurd and menial task, and some cranky dark faerie, watching jealously from the bushes, decides to torment the poor soul for weeks.
And this is, of course, only the lesser faeries.
The more powerful and long-lived faeries are well-acquainted with their pasts. After all, they have been around for what some describe as eons, with negligible changes to their status quo.
Or rather, that is what many of them insist. The faeries are seen by many as a pillar of stability to the populace of Neopia, and for good reason. Their presence is taken for granted. Their hierarchy has been unchanged for all of Neopia's written history.
But, that is only for Neopia's written history. What about what comes before? Jhudora and Illusen have been at each other's throats for ages untold. Fyora has ruled her kin for just as long.
This ancient history, however, conceals a secret.
My name is Kirianov, and I am what you might call an information broker. I am one whose specialty is the sale and purchase of information. In particular, I have quite the interest in rare, difficult-to-obtain information. They say that daring to inquire about what caused the bitter hatred between Jhudora and Illusen may lead to your disappearance. I am the one that not only dared, but survived. Of course, such information is not easy to come by, by any stretch of the imagination. Therefore, it is quite expensive. The sort of expensive that even kings dare not imagine.
Well, except for one.
Client confidentiality, you understand. But that just means the information is that much more valuable, does it not? You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, however. I suppose that I can put it on your tab, my dear friend. But I must reiterate, it will not be cheap.
Some time ago, but not so long that I could forget it, a gold Draik approached me, introducing himself as King. He requested a dangerous piece of information, but I am a professional, and I take pride in my work. There is no information I can not acquire, nor will there ever be. I named my price and he paid it in full, up front. Far be it from me to decline a client after such an introduction, so I set off to find this information he desired. He asked for quite a lot, in truth, and it admittedly took me quite some time to find what he sought. Around two weeks after our first conversation, I contacted him again. We met at a place of his choosing, and I handed off the answers to his queries.
All that I found in that time was really quite fascinating. In order to fully grasp the significance of information such as this, you should be aware of how things started.
The sound of confident, yet dainty, footsteps rang out as single figure clad in a regal midnight blue gown with a long train held off the ground by a single air faerie servant, who struggled to keep up. The figure, a woman with pale skin, raven black hair, and a set of large wings that seemed to reflect the appearance of the calm night sky, stepped into the massive throne room of the castle of the Faeries. She clutched the long scepter in her hand and frowned, waiting for the collection of faeries in the chamber to take their positions of reverence before her. After only a moment, the seven faeries before her dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in nearly perfect unison. She snorted in contempt and quickly strode to the throne, spun on one heel, and took her seat. The air faerie carrying her train bowed as she sat and backed out of the chamber. She raised her free hand and spoke a single word.
"Rise."
The topics discussed afterward are entirely unimportant to the rest of this story. It is, in truth, much more fascinating to know who was there. Among the chamber were representatives of the six elements of the faeries: the destined nemeses Jhudora and Illusen, the light faerie Siyana, air faerie Psellia, water faerie Nereid, the wicked fire faerie Eithne, and, most surprising of all, the great Fyora herself. All of them had bowed to the faerie upon the throne, the previous faerie queen herself, Nova. As Nova rose to take her leave, she gestured to Jhudora and Eithne for them to follow her. They obliged, and once the trio had exited the chamber, Illusen turned to Fyora.
"The sword is finished," she whispered.
Fyora nodded slightly. "Then the revolution will begin tonight." Fyora looked over the others remaining in the chamber, surveying them. Few of the faeries were loyal to Nova, and even fewer liked her. The faeries she stood with now, however, Fyora believed she could trust.
And that night, indeed, the revolution began. The dark faeries and only a small handful of fire faeries fought on behalf of Nova, and quite well at that. However, the sheer numbers of those fighting on behalf of the revolution easily overwhelmed those loyal to their queen. Fyora marched through the castle halls, the sword forged by the combined efforts of her kin in hand and a determined look upon her face. Fyora pushed open the doors to the throne room and stepped in. Nova, who was seated upon her throne, jumped to her feet and sneered at Fyora.
"You! You're with them?!" Nova demanded. "How dare you?!"
"You are not fit to rule us," Fyora answered, gripping the sword's hilt tightly. "You are a tyrant, and your reign ends tonight!" Sensing Fyora's intent to strike, Nova waved one hand before her. A massive wall of darkness appeared as Fyora swung the mighty sword. Nova recoiled in awe as the sword shattered her defense. Fyora stepped forward, readying the sword for another mighty swing. Unable to think of any other options, Nova could only roar in anger as Fyora swung the devastating blade again. With the sound of shattering glass, a rift tore open behind Nova. She clung desperately to the arm of her throne as the rift pulled hungrily at her. She swore a curse of vengeance as the only thing holding her on this side of the rift crumbled, and she fell in. Fyora waited a few moments until the rift closed, sealing Nova away. She approached the throne and sat upon it, resting the sword against her left leg.
And so began the reign of Fyora as faerie queen. Jhudora, of course, knew what had transpired, and Illusen's involvement. With no more need of the sword, Fyora entrusted it to Illusen, with the instructions to safeguard it until the time, though hopefully it would not come, that it may be needed once more.
Fascinating, is it not? That Fyora usurped the throne for herself form another? And by force, no less? Well, fascinating though it is, this is merely the exposition to a greater story, you see. Our true story begins within much more recent memory...
And this is, of course, only the lesser faeries.
The more powerful and long-lived faeries are well-acquainted with their pasts. After all, they have been around for what some describe as eons, with negligible changes to their status quo.
Or rather, that is what many of them insist. The faeries are seen by many as a pillar of stability to the populace of Neopia, and for good reason. Their presence is taken for granted. Their hierarchy has been unchanged for all of Neopia's written history.
But, that is only for Neopia's written history. What about what comes before? Jhudora and Illusen have been at each other's throats for ages untold. Fyora has ruled her kin for just as long.
This ancient history, however, conceals a secret.
My name is Kirianov, and I am what you might call an information broker. I am one whose specialty is the sale and purchase of information. In particular, I have quite the interest in rare, difficult-to-obtain information. They say that daring to inquire about what caused the bitter hatred between Jhudora and Illusen may lead to your disappearance. I am the one that not only dared, but survived. Of course, such information is not easy to come by, by any stretch of the imagination. Therefore, it is quite expensive. The sort of expensive that even kings dare not imagine.
Well, except for one.
Client confidentiality, you understand. But that just means the information is that much more valuable, does it not? You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, however. I suppose that I can put it on your tab, my dear friend. But I must reiterate, it will not be cheap.
Some time ago, but not so long that I could forget it, a gold Draik approached me, introducing himself as King. He requested a dangerous piece of information, but I am a professional, and I take pride in my work. There is no information I can not acquire, nor will there ever be. I named my price and he paid it in full, up front. Far be it from me to decline a client after such an introduction, so I set off to find this information he desired. He asked for quite a lot, in truth, and it admittedly took me quite some time to find what he sought. Around two weeks after our first conversation, I contacted him again. We met at a place of his choosing, and I handed off the answers to his queries.
All that I found in that time was really quite fascinating. In order to fully grasp the significance of information such as this, you should be aware of how things started.
Skies over Neopia - thousands of years ago
The sound of confident, yet dainty, footsteps rang out as single figure clad in a regal midnight blue gown with a long train held off the ground by a single air faerie servant, who struggled to keep up. The figure, a woman with pale skin, raven black hair, and a set of large wings that seemed to reflect the appearance of the calm night sky, stepped into the massive throne room of the castle of the Faeries. She clutched the long scepter in her hand and frowned, waiting for the collection of faeries in the chamber to take their positions of reverence before her. After only a moment, the seven faeries before her dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in nearly perfect unison. She snorted in contempt and quickly strode to the throne, spun on one heel, and took her seat. The air faerie carrying her train bowed as she sat and backed out of the chamber. She raised her free hand and spoke a single word.
"Rise."
The topics discussed afterward are entirely unimportant to the rest of this story. It is, in truth, much more fascinating to know who was there. Among the chamber were representatives of the six elements of the faeries: the destined nemeses Jhudora and Illusen, the light faerie Siyana, air faerie Psellia, water faerie Nereid, the wicked fire faerie Eithne, and, most surprising of all, the great Fyora herself. All of them had bowed to the faerie upon the throne, the previous faerie queen herself, Nova. As Nova rose to take her leave, she gestured to Jhudora and Eithne for them to follow her. They obliged, and once the trio had exited the chamber, Illusen turned to Fyora.
"The sword is finished," she whispered.
Fyora nodded slightly. "Then the revolution will begin tonight." Fyora looked over the others remaining in the chamber, surveying them. Few of the faeries were loyal to Nova, and even fewer liked her. The faeries she stood with now, however, Fyora believed she could trust.
And that night, indeed, the revolution began. The dark faeries and only a small handful of fire faeries fought on behalf of Nova, and quite well at that. However, the sheer numbers of those fighting on behalf of the revolution easily overwhelmed those loyal to their queen. Fyora marched through the castle halls, the sword forged by the combined efforts of her kin in hand and a determined look upon her face. Fyora pushed open the doors to the throne room and stepped in. Nova, who was seated upon her throne, jumped to her feet and sneered at Fyora.
"You! You're with them?!" Nova demanded. "How dare you?!"
"You are not fit to rule us," Fyora answered, gripping the sword's hilt tightly. "You are a tyrant, and your reign ends tonight!" Sensing Fyora's intent to strike, Nova waved one hand before her. A massive wall of darkness appeared as Fyora swung the mighty sword. Nova recoiled in awe as the sword shattered her defense. Fyora stepped forward, readying the sword for another mighty swing. Unable to think of any other options, Nova could only roar in anger as Fyora swung the devastating blade again. With the sound of shattering glass, a rift tore open behind Nova. She clung desperately to the arm of her throne as the rift pulled hungrily at her. She swore a curse of vengeance as the only thing holding her on this side of the rift crumbled, and she fell in. Fyora waited a few moments until the rift closed, sealing Nova away. She approached the throne and sat upon it, resting the sword against her left leg.
And so began the reign of Fyora as faerie queen. Jhudora, of course, knew what had transpired, and Illusen's involvement. With no more need of the sword, Fyora entrusted it to Illusen, with the instructions to safeguard it until the time, though hopefully it would not come, that it may be needed once more.
Fascinating, is it not? That Fyora usurped the throne for herself form another? And by force, no less? Well, fascinating though it is, this is merely the exposition to a greater story, you see. Our true story begins within much more recent memory...
