First Chapter to OMNI-FATE

( I know this is going to be horribly imperfect because this is an un-edited version so I don't want anybody to hold back,

I just want to know if my style is legible I couldn't add this as an attachment for some reason so I'm just going to type it out, please critique)

Chapter 1-A Renegade for Fate

Icy winds screamed their course as they swirled throughout and about the walls, gates, and edifices of Fort Faust, a structure of monolithic proportions. A tall figure paces a dark room at that top of a bulwark tower, overturning furniture, cartogrophy equipment and other objects as he carefully removed parts of a small device.

This man, Treyvolt, sat locked away in his private tower assembling a Projectile Communication Satellite - working in utmost secrecy. Outside hail and sleet ridden gusts of wind made such overwhelming noise everything in the building seemed to have gone dead silent.

No light was on in the chamber, he was working by touch.

Treyvolt was a tall light brown skinned man with a well kempt goatee and an *Aura* that gave his eye’s a neon amethyst gleam. The light of his eye’s pierced through the darkness as his tense breathing constantly permeated the silence.

Treyvolt was the Tactician of Ascending Crown the main order of hierarchy in the Neo-saint military and government, Treyvolt was a man of decisiveness and authority which earned him the position in the first place-he was second only to Lucefaulz himself.

Treyvolt knew of the organization’s true motives which he learned prior to his involvement in its very origins.

As he attached one piece after another by memory, his hands began to tremble as he contemplated the fact that every time he did this he slipped closer and closer to being discovered.

The P.C.S. completed, Treyvolt withdrew a small article from his pocket, the *Data Disk*. Inserting the disc into the *PCS* he activated the small machine and logged into its scanners, he was looking for his recipient…found it!-it was a * Intermediary Satellite Dish* or *I.S.D* equipped to a buoy some few thousand kilometers offshore.

This I.S.D would then pass on the information to an immense fleet of combat ready sea vessels and air craft carriers that had sailed the world in order to reach north Erika.

Treyvolt knew why Lucefaulz Restarted the war and what he would do if the *Kingdom Come* regime succeeded.

Knowing this, he vowed to do everything in his power to slow them down, so he became a traitor, finding an ally in the Gatekeepers -to whom he was relaying information to right now.

The fear he was experiencing physically congregated as a lump in his throat.

The entire Gatekeeper naval armada had launched from south Erika and sailed south west around the world until it was only months from land falling on North Erika and converging directly onto the Vyandrian capital of Nihellens, assaulting the neo-Saint Home base, Fort Faust.

This was the fifth and final transmission he’s made to the armada. The first three were sent at two week intervals, when the armada launched, when it landed on a remote island, and just before it disappeared around to the other face of the planet. The last transmissions were sent when the armada reappeared within the hemisphere and just now, when only four months stood in the way of the attack. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t take this long, but it being a time of war the armada had to avoid detection by other sovereign nations out of suspicion that any of them could react hostilely or may even be allied to the neo-Saints.

The transmission finished, Treyvolt hastily disassembled the P.C.S, replaced all of the components, and made his exit.

Treyvolt set a rapid gait as he descended the spiral staircase of the tower that housed his work space.

Anxiety reverberated within his mind as it translated into the echoes of his almost panicked steps.

Treyvolt stopped…he’d reached the end of the stairs and the base of the tower.

Standing before an iron door with a strange insignia at its center Treyvolt calmed his nerves; he knew how crucial this situation was to the over all war but, how the Gatekeepers were going to handle the Ascending Crown was an entirely different subject.

Treyvolt raised a hand towards the door and released a focused pulse of purple electricity from his palm.

Tracing the marks in the door with his static aura Treyvolt willed the door to open.

The Order of the Ascending Crown, consisted of only 7 members –Treyvolt included- , but these individuals can boast soul magnitudes high enough to rank as combatants of destruct force. Treyvolt was one to know, he was one of the strongest.

Being a traitor though, Treyvolt wouldn’t stand a chance alone against their combined assault which is why he can’t take any chances in this situation.

Out of the cold tower, through the iron door and into the regal tone of the frt. Faust main building, Treyvolt made off with a stride down the East Wing towards the central parlor.

Over the red carpet in a hall lavished with portraits of the Vyandrian dynasty and marble statues of divine warriors combating hideous phantoms, through a pair of large crimson wood double doors and into the central parlor a.k.a. the Crown Chamber, the meeting room for the Order of the Ascending Crown

Each member of the Order was an active combat commander in the neo-Saint military and had rare powers based on controlling the elements in the environment using their Soul Arms.

The Crown chamber was a pretty simple in lay out: the three entrances to the wings being the crimson oak doors on the east, west and south walls, a grand roundtable at the rooms center and a massive hearth structured into the north wall, which happened to be lit.

In this chamber each. Member of the order had a designated siege that was custom crafted and carved from stone or crafted out of metal to represent the member presiding in it and the Soul Arms they wielded.

Treyvolt looked upon the vacant room with deference and scanned over the esteemed seats of the Ascending crown.

The chairs were usually set up in a circle around the grand table, organized clockwise in the listing of the A.C. members from the weakest to the strongest, but some of the members fancied placing their seats in positions that suited their taste in comfort.

The tall, satin, ash chair that sat in the shade of the top right corner of the room, this was the seat of ~Silhoesen~, wielder of the *Shadows of Fear* soul arm of darkness.

More of a recon specialist than a combatant, Silhoesen was as dark and secretive as the shadows in which he garbed himself.

Treyvolt has been a member of the Order for centuries yet all he knew about Silhoesen was his predisposition towards treachery and that the only thing that could kept him loyal to Lucefaulz was fear.

Shimmering in the rays flooding in from the window on the left side of the room was a tall, translucent, fiber glass stool. This was the seat of Mirrouge, wielder of *Radiant Malice* soul arm of visions and light.

Mirrouge is a figure even more mysterious than Silhoesen, with the ability to shape shift, he confused Treyvolt of what his true form was. Treyvolt wasn’t even sure if Mirrouge was originally female. However, Treyvolt did know her to be highly manipulative and a greater danger to his mission than any other person.

After these there was a deep marine chair that was flowing with a spectrum of blues ornamented with wavy glyphs depicting a scene of storms and high tides. The chair had a low sloping seat and a back that stopped just short of the arm rest.

This was the siege of Osier, wielder of * Desecrated Tears* soul arm of water.

In Treyvolts mind ruthless was an adequate term to describe Osier, like a frigid ocean tide

she met her foes with a cold, hard, overwhelming determination. If there was one thing Osier loved other than a challenge, it was the ecstasy of the kill. She was adept in keeping a level head and turning every battle into a hunt, she reveled in the pleasure of killing. However she was broken in that way. She was edging ever closer to obsession.

A twisted storm grey chair stood to the left of Osiers siege, the legs ended in sharp points

And the cushion of the seat spiraled down through the seat like a funnel cloud.

This was the siege of Gerjhet, wielder of * Breathe of Madness* soul arm of wind.

Gerjhet was a frightening individual, gentle and soft spoken and at times childish she was an endearing young woman, but this wind blew both ways.

More than eager to be present on the battle field she unleashes blindly murderous wind storms that tear men away from the living and scatter their bodies like chaff. Indifferent to the matter of friend or foe she was hell bent on simply unleashing her mad howling soul of winds upon the world.

Some way away from the central table resided a tall throne like seat carved of stone. It was overtly solid in appearance more likened to a monolith than a chair. On the back there was a broad, chiseled inscription that read: Eschericho. Eschericho was the commander of the Order of the Ascending Crown and wielder of *Gravitic Tyranny* soul arm of earth and metal. Eschericho was equally as strong and equally as intelligent as Treyvolt, very strong willed and in possession of immaculate reasoning, he was worthy of the position of commander. Eschericho, however, was a power monger; he was very controlling and almost desperate for influence. H e even attempts to rank up to Lucefaulz and be seen and heard as an equal, but in the end was just another tool in Lucefaulzs own quest for power. Like an already majestic mountain reaching up, ever higher, towards a deathly heaven too cruel to care.

Treyvolts demeanor of deference shattered under the internal force of throbbing shame.

Any thoughts of happiness pertaining to the Order were born of memories from a dead era.

Treyvolt took a weary breath as he turned to leave-“Aren’t you forgetting one!?” a voice exclaimed.

He turned back to the room with a start, but there was nobody to be seen.

“Over here, trevolt!”

Tracing the voice to the hearth at the center of the northern wall, Treyvolt watched as a grisly figure rose from amongst the flames. The fire in the hearth seemed to dance around the figure as it began to fade away.

“Who are you?” Treyvolt inquired

As the last of the flames died away a crooked young man blanketed in the filth of battle was revealed standing before a siege crafted of red metal into the likeness of a towering flame, “who do you think I am?”

Treyvolt could recognize that foul personage from a mile away.

It was Valcanan, combat commander and wielder of *Ballistic Infamy* soul arm of fire.

“What are you doing here!?” Treyvolt knew it was unlike Valcanan to take leave from active duty. “I’m here on investigation of treason.” replied Varcing. Trevolt was taken aback by a cold shock riding up his spine, but he maintained his composure, “investigation of treason, but that’s Mirrouge and Silhoesens department.” “That it is,” replied Varcing “but Mirrouge is off on ‘diplomatic’ business and I hear there is a suspect that may put up quite a fight. I was sent only to neutralize the traitor, and dispose of him if need be”.

Treyvolt knew what Valcanan meant by dispose.

Of all the members of the Order, he was the most demented. In the Orders past when they’d been forsaken, Varcing was the most wounded of all. To him being forgotten was worst than death and so from that day on he was bent on inflicting misery and suffering in order to be remembered, even in hatred.

Valcanan took a step forward and slung his arm around Treyvolts shoulder. “You’ve been here longer than I have, so you of all people should’ve been aware of any suspicious behavior within our forces.” Treyvolt did everything in his power to keep from wretching. This mans being was completely sullied with shed blood, gore, and the ashes from scorched flesh. “Y’know Treyvo, our entire lives are nothing but endless war, and as one who lives a life of war,” The jaded soldier drew his face up to Treyvolts “I intend to live it to the fullest, and in order to do that one must ensure victory.”

Valcanan put forth his hand, and tapping into his malignant soul, called forth a small molten metal blade that danced like a flame. “Valcanan…all I can say on the matter of treason, is that if it were present in Nihellens it would have been obliterated by now. If it hasn’t, with you here, it’ll be by next week.” Treyvolt twisted out of the commanders’ grip to escape the miasma of the battle field and adrenaline, quickly turning down the southern hallway with a jolting stride, “I hope you find your mark.”

Valcanan stood and watched the unsettled tactician move down the hallway, then turned to pace around until he came to Treyvolts siege. “I am in no need of luck in finding my mark,” turning his hand down Valcanan poured his liquid steel flame from the cup his palm and melted the seat of lightning “for I have already found it.”