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(- Season 1: Golden Fang)
(- Season 1: Golden Fang)
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“I never felt obligated to it,” Patrick said, shrugging, “It’s just what I want to do. Help people. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, you know.”
“I never felt obligated to it,” Patrick said, shrugging, “It’s just what I want to do. Help people. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, you know.”
“But'' Pat,” I said, calling him Pat (which I never do), “If I don’t join the Royal Guard, how ''else'' am I going to embarrass you?”
“But ''Pat,''” I said, calling him Pat (which I never do), “If I don’t join the Royal Guard, how ''else'' am I going to embarrass you?”
“Any number of things, probably.” he said, “Remember when you were going through that weird phase and the media got their attention on you?”
“Any number of things, probably.” he said, “Remember when you were going through that weird phase and the media got their attention on you?”

Revision as of 19:33, 11 January 2015


P-132 is a rewrite of Project 132 (beta) and, therefore, also a reboot of The Resolutions of 132 and Typical Tragedy. It has its basis in those stories, but does not take place in a world related to users or wikis, though it includes many of the former as its cast.

The story takes place on Trine, a planet with two moons housing a single, whirlpool-shaped supercontinent in an otherwise empty galaxy, devoid of all stars except the sun.

Two characters- Christopher Lockheart, based off the author, Tabuu- and Maximilian Cynd II serve as the primary narrators.

This story is written with the assistance of Tucker Wooley.

- Season 1: Golden Fang

Navigate by clicking the tabs.

No such thing as...

January 3rd, Year B-263

Have you ever tried to imagine an empty universe?

Oh, God, you’re probably thinking, He’s starting this off with a question about life, the universe and everything. Too pretentious for me. Fuck this.

I’m not pretentious, there’s a reason I asked you that.

Okay, maybe I am a little bit pretentious. Or a lot.

Look, just stick with me for a second. Don’t be like that.

The reason why I started with asking you a question like that is because, well, I’ve tried to imagine an empty universe. When I was a kid, my pops asked me to and I shut my eyes, put my hands over them and said “It probably looks something like this”, because you aren’t born a pretentious asshole, you’re raised to be one.

He told me I was wrong, because I saw darkness. Like absence-of-sight is sight, right?

Well, he explained to me, it is. There’s apparently no such thing as nothing, and that still really, really confuses me.

There are two elements above all the rest in this world. Light and Darkness.

Everything you’ve ever touched, felt or saw is made from some combination of the two. Earth, for instance, is a perfect balance of them.

Neither of them create on their own- they need each other for that.

Creations can destroy, though.

A lot of people have learned that the hard way.

That aside, hey.

My name’s Maximilian Cynd. The second. Just call me Max, Maximilian’s my dad, and he’s a pretty great guy all around.

I turned twenty today. Being a prince among the only known humans on Trine made for a pretty great celebration, as it does every year. My father wasn’t able to turn up, though, since he and my mom have been off nobody-knows-where trying to find things outside of the valley these humans were born in.

My mother’s name is Meiro. She’s not even technically human like my dad is, she’s apparently a goddess. Her true form’s a great, white snake and she’s a creature of Gravity. She has siblings, though- the Great Beasts- and they created this planet we live on, Trine, before my dad came from Lum, the second moon in our sky.

On yeah, moons. Two moons. Sol, the first moon, and Lum, the second moon. No stars in our sky except the good ol’ sun.

I wish I could tell you a bit more than that. Why everything’s so weird.

But even my dad doesn’t have all the answers, and the dude’s a couple hundred years old.

You see, we- as in me and my dad- we’re the Cynds, and for some reason we live quite a lot longer than most humans do. My dad found the people we’ve started to rule over in this valley almost three hundred years ago after he descended from the moon, because unlike us, they aren’t immortal.

They have power, though, and my father has taught them how to use it. Maybe they aren’t as strong as us, but humans are apparently just as adaptive, because they’ve really started to figure out this stuff. At my party in the castle you had guys spitting fire and doing all kinds of crazy stuff.

It was sick.

Sick as in great, I mean. You know.

So I guess you could say I’m a bit of a spoiled, pampered prince. Son of a god among men and a literal goddess- pretty sick, if you ask me. I pretty much have everything I could ask for, and according to what they say I’m actually stronger than them, since I have both their powers and apparently magic just kinda adds up when it comes to frightening semi-bestiality.

Here at the bottom of the valley, we’ve gone from a little village to a huge friggin’ city, and we’re pretty proud of it. When you got people who can pretty much summon and control everything you need to build stuff with their minds, urbanization really isn’t much of a difficult task. It’s been two hundred years since my mom and dad came down here and we’re expanding into something bigger all the time, which is part of the reason why they’ve been outside of the city so much.

They’re trying to find the Great Beasts so that we can get their a-okay and assistance before we exit the valley, since the other Great Beasts- Cyria especially, the Wolf- can be very territorial according to my mom.

I’ve been told not to worry too much about it, though.

I mean, why would anything change?

Back to episode select.

Under an optimistic sun.
Franz Ferdinand - You're The Reason I'm Leaving

Year P-132
Christopher Lockheart

“What day is it today?” I asked.

The man in front of me, obscured by bars of cold steel, sighed and closed his red eyes. “March ninth. One-thirty-two years after the fall of Blusk.”

I stretched and sighed, leaning forward and putting my hands on the bars.

The conditions of my prison were kept as dark and cold as possible, so as to prevent me from being able to regain energy and escape. Even if I did escape the cell, there wasn’t much I could do to escape the Palace, much less the man standing before me, his father, and the combined power of the Royal Guard.

“Thanks, Nalia.” I said, “I suppose you aren’t here to let me out?”

The dark-skinned prince lightly shook his head. “You know I can’t do that,” Nalia Cynd said, “And even if I could, what then? I’d just have to come after you again, and this time I won’t be allowed to spare you.”

I chuckled. “You think locking me down here ‘til I die is an act of mercy? That it takes the responsibility out of your hands?”

Nalia swept a lock of white, feathery hair from the front of his right eye and our eyes made direct contact through the bars.

“For me, it does.” he admitted, “I’ve left you to the mercy of this cell. Whether you live or die has been taken completely out of my hands.”

Nalia’s facial expression was distant and devoid of emotion, but his eyes betrayed what he was holding back. Guilt. Empathy.

“When we met a week ago, you seemed rather eager to take that out of my hands.” I said, then paused. Blinked. “What’s changed?”

With the eye contact broken, the Crown Prince of Trine started to turn away to leave me to another day of darkness and silence.

At my question, however, he paused.

Then responded, “Simple. It’s up to you now.”


Granite Wall

March 1st, Year P-132.

“What day is it today?” I asked.

“You have a phone,” Patrick Lockheart groaned, “Check for yourself.”

“But you see,” I said throwing a look at my older brother, “It’s less fun this way. It’s more interesting to make you say it.”

“It’s the first day of March,” the elder Lockheart said, “Your birthday is tomorrow. You can’t not know this.”

I shrugged. “There’s a lot of things I can’t not know, yet end up not knowing them. Just the other day, I found out that if you get on a horse while-”

“Are you going to subject me to your awful sense of humor some more,” Patrick Lockheart said, sharply interrupting me, “Or will you let me give you your birthday present?”

“It’s awful for you,” I said, “But for me, the humor is in your reactions, not my jokes themselves.”

“Chris,” he said, “I’m serious. I don’t get to see you very often, and you’re not a kid anymore.”

I paused, looked him in the eyes. Unlike mine, his were a bright blue, and tended to express his emotions very clearly. He was, in fact, serious, and I was being more than a little bit annoying.

“Sorry,” I said, putting my hands in my jacket pockets and casting my gaze downward, “I’ll cut it out. What’s up?”

A car passed our bus stop bench, pushing a cool breeze to my right side. I looked back up at him when this happened, momentarily wondered how a thin, blue-eyed blonde guy and a thicker, black-haired, brown-eyed guy could possibly be brothers from the same set of parents.

“I can’t stay in town as long as I’d like to this time,” he said, “In fact, I only have today before I have to get back to work. The Anti-Monarchy movement is getting a little more active, lately, and I may end up being very busy in the coming weeks dealing with them.”

I blinked up at him as the pieces clicked together in my head. “You’re...not staying for my birthday?” I asked, feeling my heart sink.

He nodded. “I know, it’s not fair...up until now, I always got the first week of March off, but the Guard needs me now more than ever and that means I can’t stay as long as I’d like...”

“I haven’t seen you in months, bro...” I said, “What do they need you for, anyways? You’re the head of the Royal Guard, can’t you just get someone else to fill in for you? It’s just a week...”

“Unfortunately,” Patrick said, “Javelin wasn’t available this week. Because, again, the AMM. There’s been a lot of threats in Colony 1 and 5 and we have good reason to believe those aren’t empty threats.”

I sighed. “I feel like you’ve just put me up and out of the way sometimes, man. I’m, well, here,” I said, beckoning to our suburban surroundings, “In the newest, least-populated colony on an island in the sky. I could not be more out of everyone’s way if I tried.”

“Because you’re safe here,” he said, “You’re my brother, and I’m one of the highest authorities in Trine. Do you have any idea how many people have it out for the Lockhearts?”

“I’ve heard this a thousand times, just-”

“No.” he said, growing firm, “You stop. I know it’s hard on you, but it’s hard on me, too. You think I like putting my only family up here? That I like working day-in and day-out without being able to spend time with my own brother?”

“No, but-”

“Stop.” Patrick said, “This is the only day we have. Things should blow over soon enough, and then I’ll come back, okay?”

“Alright.” I sighed.

I moved to sit on the bench at the bus stop and my brother sat beside me.

He’d just gotten off the bus and it was early noon, so there wasn’t much reason for us to sit around here twiddling our thumbs.

At that moment, though, I wanted a little quiet time. To think.

My brother and I sat together and stared ahead, at the occasional passing blur of traffic, lost in our own respective thoughts and wondering where we’d be going from here.

The answer, it turned out, was “food”, namely “expensive lunch at the local Fraglan Family Grill”.

Fraglan Family Grill was a popular local restaurant in Colony 132, run by a family of skilled Fire Element users who promised that the Fraglan Family’s progenitor, a man named Phil Fraglan, had been personally trained in the usage of the Fire Affinity by none other than Barchetta Vulc himself, a legendary master of the Fire Element and one of nine founding members of the original Royal Guard.

All things considered, this was probably bullshit, but it didn’t make the food any less tasty.

While me and my brother were eating, we caught up on the trivial little things that had been happening in the past five months since we’d last gotten the time to actually talk.

I found that he’d actually gone on quite a few exciting adventures, including one that ended with a classic sword battle with a mysterious Sage- one without an elemental Affinity, which meant they could use all of them.

Me and my brother, we’re Lockhearts, so we’re all Darkness Affinity users.

Our ancestor, Edo Lockheart, was someone who was actually important- the first-known Darkness user in Trine and another of the nine founding members of the original Royal Guard, which was specifically devoted to guarding Maximilian Cynd II, the second King of Trine.

Max and the original Royal Guard disappeared in an event called “The Fall of Blusk”, wherein a great battle happened at the bottom of the valley in the middle of our continent (the valley that, incidentally, the very island I live on floats hundreds of miles above) that resulted in our first settlement, Blusk (or “Colony 0”) being completely frozen and the valley itself flooded with water.

The battle was said to be against the legendary “Great Beasts”, living creatures of their own elements.

In the aftermath of The Fall, our calendar changed accordingly. Years preceding the fall (B-1 to B-263) were referred to as B years (B meaning both Blusk and Before) while the years afterward were called P (P meaning Post) years, this one being the 132nd.

“So what have you done since I’ve been gone?” Patrick asked, biting and beginning to chew a piece of barbequed ribs.

Played video games. Wrote dumb stories. Jacked off.

“Nothing of note.” I said, truthfully.

He shrugged. “Not even with Tucker?”

“Tuck had to go back home a month ago,” I said, “I’ve been all alone up here, unfortunately. There was a chick I was into a while ago, but one time we kissed and it kinda tasted like soap, so it ended up not working out.”

“That’s life for you. You handle it well?”

I lost all grasp on my sanity for a good month or so. Healthy emotional response.

“About as well as I usually do.” I said, not technically lying.

He winced. “That bad?”

I shrugged it off. “Not that important, anyways. I’m about to turn twenty, man, I’m amped for that, if only because it means I’ve made it through a whole other year toward the inevitable, unknowable blackness of death.” He raised an eyebrow and I added hastily, “Also being of legal age to join the Royal Guard. Why’s it at 21, anyways?”

“Max didn’t want people committing themselves to battle and all that as young as he was.” Patrick said, “You join up young and you decide it isn’t what you want- what then? At that point, you’ve spent up to half a decade working toward something you didn’t really want.”

“Well,” I said, “The Royal Guard has always been led by a Lockheart since the beginning of the Post-Blusk years. Our family’s pretty deeply tied into it.”

“I never felt obligated to it,” Patrick said, shrugging, “It’s just what I want to do. Help people. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, you know.”

“But Pat,” I said, calling him Pat (which I never do), “If I don’t join the Royal Guard, how else am I going to embarrass you?”

“Any number of things, probably.” he said, “Remember when you were going through that weird phase and the media got their attention on you?”

I faintly recalled getting into very large, very public disputes in places appropriate for fourteen year olds, like bars.

“I was hoping to keep it repressed, actually.” I admitted.

We both paused for a second.

“I missed you, man.” I said, finally.

“You too.”

Night fell a few hours after we ate, and after a fine dinner at a local Hibachi grill, Patrick took me away from town.

We walked miles out, across a field and through a forest, until we reached the edge of the island and a waterfall that came with it. Though our night sky lacks your stars, we do have two moons, and the light reflected from them played interesting effects on the water falling miles out of sight, into the Great Lake of Trine below.

We watched the waterfall for a while, then Patrick broke the silence.

“Anyways,” he said, “About your gift. When our grandfather, Stane was still around, you may recall him training you in the physical aspects- the swordplay- of the Lockheart Style. Do you recall the weapon he used?

I blinked and furrowed my brow in concentration. “A black-handled claymore with a white blade, right? What of it?”

“That weapon,” Patrick said, “Is a weapon passed down through the generations, originally owned by Edo himself. You still have yet to awaken your Darkness affinity, so you can’t make proper usage of the blade, but...”

Patrick outstretched his right palm before him, grasping at a great, white, ornate blade that materialized in his hand, “This is still rightfully yours, until the time it comes for you to pass it on.”

In his left hand, a black leather scabbard appeared which he sheathed the blade within before turning to face me entirely and holding them out to me.

“I’m...” I was at a loss for words. I knew this day would come eventually- I even thought it may even be today- but no matter how much I’d expected it, my mind was still completely blown. My own sword? A family heirloom?

“Wield this sword well and true,” Patrick said, setting it down into my open hands, “Like Edo said, there is honor in a blade.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Patrick. Really, this is...”

He smiled. “Trust me, I know. I was pretty psyched when I got mine, too. The katana of Alexander Lockheart.”

My mood sank, though not because of my gift.

“When will I see you again?”

“Truthfully?” Patrick sighed, shrugged. “I don’t know, I wish I did, and i hope it’s soon. Just...promise me you’ll keep it together, all right?”

I nodded. “I will,” I vowed, “I promise not to get into any trouble until you can get me out of it.”

My brother and I shared a laugh by the water.

Sometimes I wish I could relive that moment.

Before everything went to shit.

Back to episode select.