In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Great Wyrm; for better or for worse, your presence in the town has not gone unnoticed. If you would humbly grace me with your presence, I’ve a proposal for you. If this turns out right we both stand to gain from this endeavor.
Meet me at the marked location when the tower chimes thrice.” The first point of interest was that the handwriting had been exquisite. Fancy, uniform, it screamed of someone who'd known the rich life. Also the note had been written across the plain tanned backing of a weathered paper map depicting Twilight Town. How old it was could be anyone’s guess. However, the map held a fairly good amount of detail. On the road that connected the Market Street to the Sandlot, along the wall that edged a forest the map bore a large red X.
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It was difficult to tell the passage of time when the celestial bodies never moved from their positions. Not to mention that living here, for those who’d come from worlds with solar cycles, Twilight Town’s fixed position could eventually wreak havoc on one’s circadian rhythms. Nonetheless, it seemed no one had yet felt the drag of the circadian rhythms. Therefore, perhaps there was reason to believe something greater was at work, keeping the bodies of the refugees who took shelter here alive and well. Nonetheless, Kalos had hardly bothered depositing any of these thoughts into long-term memory. It was just passive thought while he patiently waited for the great reptile to grace him with a hearing.
The tall, black-winged humanoid stood at the curve in the road that linked the Sandlot and Market Street. This had been his choice location for a few reasons. For one, the Plaza just seemed like too much of a focal point for the city. The tunnels beneath the surface didn’t seem like the wisest place to meet the Wyrm. Due to the beast’s size Kalos questioned if Ciraph could even fit through the entrance. While the Sandlot was definitely an option, between that and where Kalos was now, his own studies showed that the Sandlot gained more traffic. Therefore, for a quiet meeting such as he’d intended this to be, this option outshined the rest.
His favored facial decor held delicate filigree. It was easy to realize the mask’s masterful craftsmanship. Had one looked a little deeper, perhaps that dedication to detail had also been a telling indication of the standard Kalos held for most things, especially good theatre. The iolite eyes behind the royal veil thinned with intrigue. Had the majestic creature received his invitation?
Even from here one’s ears could pick up the Clock Tower’s low, reverberating toll. It struck one. Two. Three.
The Midnight dragon winged silently overhead, cloaked from view by his invisibility as he eyed Market Street below for any sign of the mystery stranger that had sent a letter to him. It was a strange thing for the dragon, receiving a letter such as that so soon after arriving to this world. The size of the thing was so small he couldn't hold it without tearing it to shreds with his claws. As such, he'd had to summon a smaller heartless to hold it for him so he could read it without tearing the paper to shreds. He had been rather unhappy with the what he read on the paper. While the chosen phrasing of the letter showed deference to the dragon, the overall tone seemed more demanding than requesting, something that he very heavily disliked.
Whoever had sent him the note, however, knew of his presence in Twilight Town. For that reason he was here to meet this foolhardy individual. He would hear him out, even if only to tear him apart and steal his heart afterward. Ciraph did not want to chance being found out and his presence widely known to the denizens of Twilight Town just yet...
Not until he had found the keyhole and it was too late for them to stop him.
A great yellow eye turned towards the clocktower as it began to ring out a new hour. He had studied aloft long enough. It was time to face this new possible threat.
He angled downward, descending rapidly towards the ground in front of the waiting man. Great gusts of wind were kicked up as he flapped his wings just above ground level to slow his fall, his first invisibility falling away. It would likely appear as if he had just materialized from nowhere in front of the man. The Midnight Dragon touched down softly and nimbly, a practiced motion perfected through decades of experience. As he came to all fours, Ciraph swung his long neck about so he had one bright yellow eye level with the man and stared him in the face.
"Your proposition had best be good, small one," the dragon grumbled quietly in his deep, growly voice, "I do not like being summoned like this. Now speak."
At the sudden gust of wind Kalos tossed up his wings; a knee-jerk effort to provide a shield for his face and body from the debris that had been stirred up at the great beast's descent. Just thinking of the sheer power and the elegance by which the Wyrm had shown up --
Magnificent!
A smug grin wrote itself across Kalos' expression and remained there while he politely listened to the Dragon's deep, crackling sort of speech.
Perhaps he should have been fearful of the Wyrm that could have so easily crushed him like an ant underfoot. Or maybe he should have been pleading for the Dragon not to eat him or burn him alive? Normal people who held even an ounce of their life with value probably would have done such things. Kalos, however, wasn't afraid. That wasn't to say there wasn't adrenaline or the feeling of imminent danger when standing beside a being so much larger than oneself. But the predominant emotion coursing through him right now was: thrill. Whatever would happen - and very well could happen - didn't make up for the fact that this was a truly rare experience. There were few, even back on his home world, who had the pleasure of conversing with a Wyrm. This experience, whatever the cost, was worth having.
Summoned?
Kalos' grin fell away, his expression taking a more serious tone. Was it really as petty as the Dragon had made it sound? "Thank you for showing up, Great Wyrm. I'm humbled that you would honor my request. To show you that I value your time I shall try to keep things brief."
His posture straightened, the iolite eyes behind his golden mask were quite small in comparison to the large, golden eye of the Dragon. "You want to stay out of sight I'm sure. I can easily be a messenger if such a thing would suit you. And me? Well all I want is to make this worth it. For the Light or for the Darkness I care little; I simply want to know how the story will play out. Now the refugees of this world are fighting to restore the Light. I wonder what would happen if we threw a little wrench into their works? I would like to build a grand theatrical event - pit them in a glorious battle to claim what they so desperately seek... Like any good story, the main characters must have some form of brilliant opposition. And for this we need Darkness in abundance." Upon realizing he was going down a rabbit trail, Kalos combed his fingers through a few strands of loose hair that had fallen out of place with the gust of wind from Ciraph's landing. It only took a moment for him to compose himself and keep speaking.
"In order for the glorious clash between the Light and the Darkness, there must be a force of Darkness grand enough to oppose. And I do not mean the meager shadows that occasionally scurry about. We need a greater focus for the Darkness. Now the menial parts of this task I shall largely subject myself to. I have an idea to funnel a good deal of Darkness out of their own hearts." The amalgamation that would ensue would be most interesting he was sure. The grim grin on his face showed as much. "Now this will also require a specific point to which such Darkness can pool and grow. And whilst I may gather, I cannot also keep watch over the gathering point, to ensure that no one finds out about the coming threat. This is where I would so humbly request your aid." With one arm folded, the fingers of the other were cradling his chin. "Now I would not have been so foolish as to request your audience had I not also thought up something to benefit you." He was sure the great beast had been wondering.
"The forces of Light seem to believe this skeleton of a World just needs a little love in order to bounce right back to the health and vibrancy of its previous condition. That it will just take the right conditions to cultivate regrowth and balance across the planet. But when one looks at this world realistically, there is not much left within this depressing, ruinous remainder of a planet. It wouldn't take much to tip the scales and completely wipe Twilight Town off the map, I care not what happens after that. Or before it -- as long as there is a worthwhile spectacle." There was room for implication here - perhaps for power? Surely Kalos had not outrightly known of Ciraph's thirst to absorb the hearts of planets.
And what could a Dragon possibly want from a world such as this? It had to be something, if he'd remained here of all places. Putting his finger on exactly what might have eluded him, but Kalos was a daredevil when it came to subjects of his intrigue. And this subject was one such.
Ciraph listened to the masked man as he spoke of spectacles and gathering darkness, of ensuring the so-called “Heroes of Light” had sufficient a test to prove their worthiness for just such a title. Despite his offers of help to the Midnight Dragon, Ciraph could tell his motivations clearly in his choice of words. This man cared not for who won the ancient struggle between the Darkness and the Light, but instead cared more for the drama of the struggle itself. In short, this masked man was an agent of chaos, stoking the flames of the most ancient of conflicts for his own enjoyment and amusement. His eyes narrowed at the man as he felt a rage growing in his breast at the hubris of this man, using such a thing for mere entertainment. However, he also recognized the opportunity here to make use of rare help where he might not necessarily be able to act freely.
“Before we discuss further,” he finally grumbled, straightening so that he now towered over the man, “Let me be clear: I will be in charge in this relationship, and I will not tolerate duplicity or failure. Either will be dealt with harshly.”
He paused just long enough to move to one side of the clocktower’s roof and laid down, his neck long enough to still keep him at eye level with the man as he locked them on him.
“You mentioned a way to use their hearts to gather darkness and use it against them,” he continued, his tone smooth and authoritative, “I need more details than a vague notion. I also need your name.”
The beast was tall, mighty: full of splendor! It was obvious why someone would be in fear of such a spectacle; one other than Kalos that was. The winged male smiled, listening to the dragon speak. Rarely had one such a unique opportunity to speak with such a fabulous individual.
More rarely still did one make favorable deals with them.
When Ciraph rose to his full height, Kalos could not help but notice his small size in comparison. The great difference between them had given him such a thrill! His heart raced as he listened, experienced.
Iolite eyes glistened up satisfactorily at the other. “It is rare for mortal man’s eyes to behold something so magnificent as a Great Wyrm; a rarer gem still that one should open into a contract with one.” One hand pressed against his chest, the other was open at his side in a gentle, opulent and polite bow. Those eyes then slipped back up to the dragon. “I humbly adhere to your request.”
He stood full height, looking into the eyes of the beast and somehow still able to stand with pride: that wasn’t to say he didn’t realize the reality of his frailty against Ciraph. He most certainly did. But his brief stint in the lap of luxury back on his home world had given him a proclivity toward the lavish parts of life along with a whelming interpretation of style and beauty. Should he get eaten, he at least had to look good going down.
“Regarding the tampering of hearts, I implore you for your patients. Pray, incline your ears to me for a moment.” He grinned. “As you may know, the moogles are a chipper lot, eager to help individuals in need. I have already placed a few in my employ. They are working under the guise of good samaritans to fashion trinkets for the adventurers to carry with them. These trinkets will magnify the emotions they fight with. And as we all know, every sin has its darkness.”
He adjusted his shirt so that it sat straighter, continuing his explanation. “Think of the baubles like siphons, channeling the emotions along with the darkness into multiple… vessels.” Cavalier eyes switched their focus from his reflection in the beast’s large golden eye, to the soul that sat behind it, curious what he would make of it.