Disclaimer: This story is mine, of course, but Ragnarok Online does NOT belong to me! (Must I repeat that again and again?!)
A/N: This fic is dedicated to my poor, clueless friend... June, that's you! Anyway, this is a one-shot, so don't expect anything much from it... She made me write it as an example. It's something I cooked up a while ago, when I was really obssessed with Ragnarok, and my Internet was taken away... Y'know, to satisfy my so-called "needs". Anyway, just read and, perhaps, enjoy!
Silence Before The Storm
The thirst for death remained, written plainly in his blood thirsty eyes. The slaughter of innocent people, hearing their screams of fright that echoed through the caves, earning shrieks and cries from Farmiliars. He rang out an empty, joyless, triumphant laugh, one that sent shivers down one's spine. The power he had obtained whilst his journey around the whole of Rune-Midgard Kingdom, it was just too much... He found himself sinking deeper and deeper into his own abyss of hate, despair, sadness, until he was drowned in it... Unable to break through to the surface of it all. Ever again. Never would he, never COULD he, return to the way he lived before. Now forced to dwell in his own ocean of hate, darkness, fury and solitude. He could NEVER return to who he used to be.
Swearing that one day he would return to the root of the pain they had caused him. His own hometown. Payon. He reached Glast Heim. He looked at it. Glast Heim, before it was destroyed thousands of years ago, in a war that waged among gods, man and demon itself. The ancient city that once left him alone, feeling deserted.
At a young age, he served as a messenger for King Tristam III. Traveling from the capital city of Rune-Midgard, Prontera, to the vast plains and deserts of the Sograt, to the calm, quiet peaceful town of Al De Baran... Unknown to him the price he paid. Forever in a hurry to deliver his messages, not wanting his loyalty to his job to waver, he had no time for friends, nor anything else. His fellow "friends" from his hometown, the city of wanderers and training grounds for archers. They all looked down on him. While they were experienced and powerful hunters, he was just a messenger, not even a novice, using nothing to protect himself. He was treated like... Like a khalitzburg. Only meant for slavery, treated terribly, shunned from the world outside. A heartless leader, only following its leader.
Weak... Dependant... Useless...
Now, here he was, destroying everything that dared to walk in his path. From a creature so harmless as a Fabre to a being as monstrous as a Nightmare. It led him to the destruction of his hometown, his childhood. All the memories he was forced to leave behind the moment he set foot out of Payon. He rid any of the happier moments he had in Payon and brought back the more painful memories he had back in his younger days. The more he thought about it, the more he hated his life he lived in Payon. The girls who used to tease and taunt him endlessly. The boys who used to hit him for no apparent reason, who called him names.
Could they not see he was still human? A living, breathing, moving being? Now, they were the ones who were powerless. Helpless. Even the most powerful hunters could not shoot him down. Noone dared to hunt for him either. They just let him come to them. He could look down on them now... He stood alone atop a cliff in one of Payon's forest. Not noticing a tear he shed, he uttered a silent goodbye to this place he once called home, unheard even to himself. Turning on his heel, he walked back into the deep shadows of the trees, back to the watery graves of Glast Heim.
A/N: Okay, this really sucked! I typed it down in like what, less than an hour?! Okay, that's all I have to say... I hope you're happy, June!