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Fleabane -- Origin of Flea, the Sky Djinni

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~~~ Index ~~~

Chapter 1 -- The Foundation of Guardia
Chapter 2 -- Ulfus the Steadfast
Chapter 3 -- Falco De Faye
Chapter 4 -- The Morning Star
Chapter 5 -- The Greatest Adversary
Chapter 6 -- The Lion's Dream
Chapter 7 -- Worth Fighting For (Part 1)
Chapter 8 -- Worth Fighting For (Part 2)
Chapter 9 -- A Sealed Fate

~~~ Introduction ~~~

Considering there’s just no way for me to even finish the damned NaNoWriMo this year (I’ve lost before I even started, I think) I’m going to take Thought and TheMage’s advise and prepare myself to break my writer’s block and focus on developing skills to write on command. Hence, the Dream Splash instead (apparently, I can procrastinate on writing by... writing). And I’m doing this amidst constant distractions, so it doesn’t seem to help sufficiently -- loss of focus is one of the most devastating side-effects to boundless benign curiosity.

I refuse to think that the Fleabane project has been abandoned -- the remains will be scavenged and forged into an even more epic story of its own -- but for the amount of work we’ve already put into, I believe it’s time to actually benefit the Chrono fandom with it. The saga of Flea itself was massive enough to make two movies, or an entire game, on it and it’d be a waste to allow it to float towards oblivion just yet. If you remember, my last year’s Dream Splash entry was a back-story of not only Zeal’s origins but also that of Flea’s (supposed) archenemy, the infamous Lilith from Radical Dreamers. And even before that, the Chrono Break Dream Splash project entailed the saga of Flea’s initial incarnation duking it out against Guardia’s founder himself (well, at least just the first part of it anyway). This time, I will once and for all, though briefly, narrate to you the very concept and foundation of the story -- it's time you know the whole story. And, very much like my previous entry last year, this too will be a total stream-poetic and / or mythical narrative without much editing (and my girlfriend says it's pretty, like a picture with lots of details and flowers).

The following story is a medieval saga beginning from the midst of Crimson Echoes -- where Cedric Guardia found the Frozen Flame and dreamed of unifying all of humanity under one kingdom, where his reign is supreme -- and ends with the coming of Janus, who is eventually destined to become the great Magus, ruler of the Fiendkind. But despite the interesting roster of new and old characters, the entire story focuses around the one character who is scarcely explored in fan-fiction: Flea. For a decade now people have been contemplating on who or what Flea is. We are greeted to a woman who turns out to be a man; we are shown a Fiend who might be even above all other Fiends. Once utunnels even pointed that Flea seemed to be associated with a "Magic Lamp" (like an Arabic fairy tale Djinni) and that he can shape-shift and perform beyond any other Fiend (like a Familiar, which is similar to a Djinn). It then became obvious that there is more to the character than meets the eye, and our constant research and contemplation (with my mind greatly experienced in world folk-lore, sorcery and mythology), we eventually reached the conclusion that, like Lilith, Flea is hardly an ordinary born Fiend-turned-transvestite; rather, if Demons, Ghouls and Spirits exist in Chronoverse (and they very well do) then, based on older Arabic reference, Flea would be categorized as a Fire Djinni and Lilith would be a Wind Shaitan (or something else entirely). Flea was born of Hubris, whereas Lilith was born of Grief. In that case, it's only logical that Dalton is one of the most powerful characters in Zeal, considering his Golems were historical symbols of opposition against spirits of nearly every kind (except Marids and higher levels).

So now we know that Flea is far from an ordinary character, and may simply be a super-sentient master of Magic. How did such an interesting character come into being? Well, let's read and find out!

If not appreciative feedback, then thorough criticism is appreciated.




Earth is merciful, cheerful and generous; from within its bosoms bloom a myriad of colors and gifts to those that live embraced in its arms of valleys, mountains, rivers and oceans. While the Entity within the surface of soil, its very soul, dances amongst the stars and planets of the cosmos in unison, playing its melodious flute that echoes through the silent cosmos through its sweet atmosphere, shows that if Paradise exists -- that one may find right within its heart -- the dwellers of such paradise but seldom notice the jubilant celebrations that last for eons. In fact, it wouldn’t be a surprise if humanity has forgotten that smile that once blessed them with the spark of life within.

But in an unfortunate incident, billions of years ago, a great fire arrived, scarring the face of the very Entity. The melody of joy turned into the shrill of agony, as the generous smile was wiped of its face, replacing it with the coldness of pain. The generosity ended, as the Entity itself was hardly conscious, and the wound of the Great Fire was so great that it forced all of the planet’s energy to help recover from the blow. Those creatures that benefited from the planet’s warmth and mercy were left out in the cold as their beloved Entity had gone to sleep. Then, the wise Father Time, overcome with dismay, lovingly stroked the Entity -- it’s beloved son in pain -- and placed a gentle blanket of white snow upon it. The poor child was an infant of but four billion years old.

Deprived from the Entity’s generosity, its children starved in misery. Deprived from its love, its children grew lonely. Deprived from the shelter of its embrace, they grew to fear. That fear of losing themselves to oblivion made them fight for the little blessing of morsel left by the sleeping, cold planet. Some became greedy, some became arrogant. Some became both, and brought about their own destruction for the want of more, even stealing from the Great Fire itself. Kingdoms burned, sank within the oceans, grandeurs ended in the most humiliating ways, lives ended reluctantly and painfully, and paradise became a fleeting dream.

But that Entity was not unaware; it watched with keen eyes, listened with patient ears, if a little helpless. As it recovered slowly, but surely, the veil of the dark winters were dispelled to let the sunlight shine on the eon’s dawn and the blanket of snow was set aside on some greater mountains for some other night’s repose. The ice melted into pleasant waters, and the Earth’s gentle spirit poured the immortal waters down the mountains to rejoice its dear children. For all life’s beloved muse has returned, and it was time to dance out into the spring again amidst the flowers, the bees, the fishes and people. But little did the Entity expect that its dear people have changed...


Chapter 1 -- The Foundation of Guardia

“For all the love and bond that exist in Order,” said Arcmyst in a booming voice beyond the Shadow Realms, “comes from Chaos itself. For without Chaos, there can never be Essence, and without Essence there can never be Order.”

“Yet the Essence, your very sparks of life flows from my songs,” said the Entity, smiling at its shadowy sibling, “and it is but the holy song that bonds spirits to earth. The essence, hence, finds existence in tranquility.”

“But is that tranquil within Order?” Arcmyst inquired. “Each essence has a thirst for an aura emanating from one another, and they exist but to devour.”

The Entity embraced its darker sibling. “And yet, either existence is worth nothing without one another.”

Arcmyst knew that life depended upon the chaos that existed beyond the very fabric of existence, but the Entity knew that neither of them would be complete without the other. Arcmyst fled into the night and scavenged the remnants of fallen kingdoms, while the Entity sang and danced upon the barren lands where its every step lovingly turned the void into meadows. Flowers and trees bloomed to caress the dismayed air of the dear planet, and bless the people who seemed to have been lost in the dull greyness where life once ceased to exist. Now, life itself beckoned the pastoral travelers to drop their arms of war and return into nature’s promise of a new paradise -- a paradise that would have been if it wasn’t for one bold adventurer.

Cedric was his name, born of grief and helplessness, he took to venture further from humanity’s reach to find the lost treasures of old tales. For overcome with loss of his past beloved ones to the tyrannical thieves who preyed on his resources, there was hardly much that the poor boy could do about the savage warfares of the rogues. He survived, left for the dead, when the Entity was yet asleep. Then, he walked barefooted miles up the frozen forests and lakes, mountains and plains, in search for his existence -- so forsaken and forlorn was he -- for it seemed that hell was frozen circle where pain was abundant for each one and hope was a fleeting dream. Traveling upon a dragon he had just saved, but one that neared its own lifespan, the dragon took flight with its last breath upon the isolated island above the Northern Cape. And then, it moved no more...

Stranded on the barren island, hundreds of miles away from civilization, he pledged his last hope upon a mere fairytale he heard from a senile old priest; and if the tale wasn’t true, then loneliness, starvation and death was assured for him in this frozen cave, simply to become a relic of the past. Not that all this would have been avoided in the mainlands, either, where additional tyranny of the rogues were to be endured.

“Within the caves of destruction and sorrow, where all zeal had broken and angels fell from their pride,” said the priest before his travel, “there exists a relic of the Great Fire, awaiting and calling its chosen arbiter who shall return the glory of the lost powers and save humanity from its own annihilation. He who wields the flame frozen in time shall be the almighty emperor. But when the Angels from the sky wanted it, the flame burned their glorious wings and they fell from the sky.”

Creeping into the cave of sorrows, all Cedric saw was destruction -- a horrid reflection of the past -- where fair-skinned bodies, dressed in flamboyant robes, trapped fossilized in walls. The grandeur of some chambers resembled what once may have been great halls of celebrations, now rejoiced with the music of silence. Cedric swore to have heard echoes of children playing joyously somewhere, but no life (not even of an insect) could be found to what extent the light of his torch could carry. And then he saw the the broken toys stranded between rocks, paintings within the walls that seemed to have been created thousands of years ago. It was no wonder they called it the “Cave of Sorrows”; this cave was signified the end of all joys that once must have belonged to every man, woman and child in a greater kingdom in the sky. Perhaps, back then they must have hoped this happiness would last for an eternity. What matter of destruction must this have been? What kind of terrible power could bring down a vast civilization like this? And further more... why must there be more sorrow and destruction in the such a world that has plenty of it?

“Destruction is easy; ‘tis to create that requires a greater purpose, skill, mindfulness, effort and time,” said a voice from the deepest recesses of the cave.

Cedric rushed within the hollow recesses to find the source of the emanation, but as he arrived the gigantic broken hall, he found no living trace. Everything there was broken, save for...

....a flame frozen in time, glowing magnificently, untouched, upon a pedestal.

“Power can either create, maintain, or destroy,” said a voice emanating from the flame’s strange chilling warmth. “It is but the great architect wielding that power who designs its greater destiny. Flesh and bones can be broken, but the spirit is eternal, for spirit grows per its deed.”

And then, Cedric remembered the old priest’s warning:

“Beware on your quest, young traveler! The ambitious ones before you, who entered the cave of sorrows, never returned to the light!”

Then, the voice of the Frozen Flame broke into his thoughts:

“That is because they walked sought to claim the unstolen jewel for their own. The jewel selects its own master. I am the fire granted to the planet despite the Heaven’s will. I am the source of all knowledge and power contained in crimson spill. I am the temptation that unlocks destinies in a blink of an eye. I unchain dreams hidden beneath every fauna’s helpless cry. You have come with no regrets, with nothing to lose, clinging on the last hope. Come, take the flame and find out what could be and could have been.”

A smile flickered on Cedric’s mouth, and he dropped his torch to embrace the brighter flame on the pedestal. No sooner did he grab the flam with his hands, than the environs melted as molten diamonds, dazzling like a hundred stars around him, and he saw to his horror beyond where horizons stretched a spill of crimson river -- perhaps of blood -- where lay a thousand corpses of a multitude of races with their armors and swords. His heart instantly fell, knowing what the picture was; it was the greater fear of a tragedy hidden away in his mind, the hatred of each living being will be such it would shake tear the earth asunder and there will devastation. He wished greatly that he would have the power to stop the wars for good.

“And now you have it,” said the voice.

Cedric said, “So long as the nations fight for their own interests there shall be war and extinction. I will change that… by uniting all nations under one law… one Kingdom!”

The illusion shattered, and Cedric returned to the cave. His scars and wounds healed to reveal a face of eternal beauty, and his traveling rags turned into a fabulous, warm robes set strapped with strong armor. As he stepped out of the cave with the flame at hand, his dragon resurrected and transformed into a beastly, majestic form. And as he took the skies in splendor with his sword and heart reborn, and his every pace into the mainlands was marked by a miracle among his people. Charming, gentle and fearsome was he, and proved to be a friend of his people and the horror of his foes. He won lands, he won battles, and he won the vengeance of those who had wronged him. And he did win the impossible: for he won Lady Eve Guardia heart.

And upon the night of the full moon, he pledged...

“While the world sleeps, the Kingdom of Guardia shall awaken, for it shall be the only path to righteousness! I vow that so long as one serves Guardia never shall they see the darkness of the night!”

With each wave of his sword he brought the nations to his knees. A brave man was he to challenge the might of the world. For he overcame all, and the world was won.

A great Emperor was born, destined to create the reality that the world would remember.

And about two hundred years later, a monk named Ulfus, disguised in a commoner’s robes and reading the founding Emperor’s tales, would return the historical book of Guardia to the library of the great kingdom, and look upon the kingdom’s castle with great contempt and loathing. If he remembered the reality that the Emperor created, the memories weren’t necessarily a pleasant one. He had just one thing in mind:

“Destruction to the Empire of Guardia!” He swore under his breath.

 :o I can't believe I didn't see this until now! Your description is really beautiful you know i'm jealous! Ulfus appears to be up to no good, I hope there is more!

Oh and I failed at NaNoWriMo too I think I had 2500 words by the end >.>

Reading your comment, I read through my own post and am baffled by how much I've improved lately. I should keep writing this, now that your comment has provided me an essential motivation. Thank you!

Ulfus is one of the three most important characters of the first arc, and you'll certainly see more of him. In fact, the arc begins from him and ends with him, which essentially closes the circle of destiny that results in Flea's birth.

--- Quote from: TheMage on December 22, 2012, 09:16:08 pm ---Oh and I failed at NaNoWriMo too I think I had 2500 words by the end >.>

--- End quote ---
Hah, nearly the same amount of words here. What was the reason on your end? Mine was the lack of plot, or at least a good scaffolding for the story to lay upon. I might need to be better at inventing plot devices. XD


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