Story-Six Emotions

NINJA_Ryu · 04:51 AM

First time story poster, been workin on this the past week.

Before I start, I would like to mention a few things. First off, my "intro" is not part of the story, rather a collection of my ideas so that I have something to look back to in an effort not to be distracted. For you to fully understand some points (at least, understand as much as I want you too) you might want to read this intro. If not, just scroll down till the INTRO DONE, and enjoy the first chapter!

INTRO

This world is Dramora.

The era is what you would call the 21st century.
I write to remember, and for others to remember. I live in a turbulent world, one where war and strife are the common sight. But where to begin so you may understand?

The start is best of all, in any case. There are 6 emotions. Rage, Calm, Despair, Elation, Terror, and Confidence. Sure, there are other “lesser” emotions like jealousy or sympathy, but those are not pure. Those do not give you power. It might be hard to understand, but bear with me while I explain. As long as people have known it, possibly back as far as times birth, there have always been these six. And around them factions have risen up, each with their own purpose, goals, and motivations. The Raging Fist, Calming Hand, Despairing Soul, Elated Essence, Terrorizing Mind, and Confident Consciousness. They meet annually at the Pinnacle; council room to the factions housed in Targ city of the mercenaries, to form strong relations to best fuel their cult. The common theory is that these base emotions were felt by the Elder Ones, creationists of this world and after bestowing their gifts on their followers, they sealed themselves away, already few succumbing to the throes of insanity.

Do not think for a moment that all of humanity belongs to these groups, for you would dismiss the Mercenaries, Blanks, and the dreaded Feelers. For the mercs life is simple, advertise to the world, be hired by one of the factions, adopt their powers and weapons, and finish your task. These are the prime majority of the “changeling” portion of our race. Then, there are the Blanks, emotionless people who aimlessly wander through the world, lacking a town, group, or even a weapon to call their own. They are truly the useless scum of the earth. And lastly the Feelers. So hated are these people, those who can feel and (it is feared) command all the other powers, that all of the other sides combine forces to squash this threat. You hear time and time again in the news about how “the glorious so and so group saved the populace from a dreaded menace!” Yep, those are the Feelers alright. My tips to them, if you discover yourself to be one, save yourself the trouble and kill yourself now.
How would they kill you, you wonder? Every emotional faction has a weapon, serving much like a guild crest or emblem to bind together its members. Although, these are interesting banners, for they are weapons that with practice and a manipulation of emotion, turn more deadly the longer they are in combat. The only exception being Elated Essence, for they heal a contrast to Despairing Soul with its ravages of destruction. Currently, Raging fist lends itself to gauntlets; metal tipped knuckleheads that turn into spikes, growing larger, sharper, and harder the greater degree of emotion is felt. Conversely, Calming Hand is well adept to small firearms, and long ranged rifles, though they are trained to use all firearms well if the need arises, with their accuracy and reload rate improving the more intense their emotion is unleashed. Despairing Soul is an interesting case; their prime weapon is being dealt damage and reciprocating the damage tenfold from the sinister otherworldly forces that use these vessels as portals into our realm. However, for Elated Essence, their prime directive is to heal themselves while using melee weapons such as swords, staves, or axes. As such, it is incredibly difficult to slay these beings, depending on their level of emotion.

Our last two groups are the most mysterious, for much is not known of them. My speculation is that both Terrorizing Mind and Confident Consciousness are gifted as “caretakers” or ambassadors to converse with supernatural powers. The former to communicate with those of a darker nature and allowing the power to thrive through Despairing Soul, while the latter does the same for Elated Essence albeit from a more celestial source. While unconfirmed, there have been rumors of crazed men and women who hold terrible mastery over their emotions, though in the process lose all shreds of sanity. While dismissed as stories to shoo little children to bed, many are unwary and disturbed by these messages by the history of old.

This has what it has always been. And to accommodate for it, the circular continent surrounded by hordes of small islands, were established so that each faction would have a sixth of the land except for the center, which housed Targ. It is the hub of the mercenaries, and also a safe zone, where no side held authority except for the city denizens governed by a democratic union. Since we already covered the Blanks, this leaves the Feelers who lack any numbers to make a political body of their own.

The future is yet unwritten though with the present course, Dramora will never be the same. Chaos is everywhere; forces have driven the cults apart while each side is engaged in a violent arms race to superiority. What forces have yet to be determined, but thier magical mark is unmistakable.
- Marlos Bekar, Historian of the Calming Hand

INTRO DONE

Chapter 1

11:38 PM

Two minutes till drop. God he did not want to be here, but what choice did he have? The superiors were clear, tag the dealers, find out what was going down, and watch. After drop, take the deal. Lethal force acceptable. For some reason, he liked it that way, the calm, cool, and rather simple way of order. Perched up high in the rafters the raven-haired man waited for his quarry, crouched. The precise reason for not being here. He didn’t have anything for or against the loss of life, or what was being sent and received. The model ideal for the Calming Hand, his native emotion, was exactly that. Peace. Tranquility. Sure, it lacked the excitement of Rage, the unknowns of Terror, the steadfastness of Confidence, the submission of Despair, or the enjoyment of Elation. But that was that his prime emotion, his main element giving him all the completeness all beings yearn for.

Slamming doors broke the observer from his musing, and as he gazed onto the level below with brown eyes to see a man 9-ft tall striding across the open floor, noticing the nearby boxes and the desk 10 feet in front of him. Beside the bodyguard was a man much smaller in size but who made up for it with his expected gauntlets, a smaller twin of the giants.

So, the Raging Fist decided to have some insurance with this deal eh? How about Despairing Soul?

Not the first time, the watcher shifted his sight to the other side of the trade, witnessing a man clad in black, a morbid stare etched in their faces. Forming a semi circle around them were half a dozen mercenaries armed with weapons from their current employer.

Mercenaries.
The sight of them made him cringe. In the delicate balances between the Six Emotions, here were the tolerated abominations. Not as bad as the useless Blanks, but also clouds and beyond above the ones on the opposite spectrum, the Feelers. Nevertheless, the thought of someone, (or something he sometimes wondered) having the ability to take on an Emotion and use its power sent shivers down the infiltrators spine.

Sharp senses picking up the beginning discussion brought him down to his mission. Too far away to hear anything of importance, it was annoying to only hear murmurs. It couldn’t be helped; they all would be dead within the hour anyway. Or at least, that’s what he thought until he saw the bodyguard slam his fist down on the table, raising the tension significantly. Still no shots were fired…yet. Picking up his nearby rifle, one he had left there days before the drop he checked to see that it was loaded. What an unnecessary check. Raising his rifle and training his sights on the large body guard, the man waited for another flare. To his dismay, the rest of the meeting went well enough with only one loud sound of dismay from the despairing dealer. At last, both sides content, money from Despairer exchanging with the small package of Rager did the spy make his move.

Sending three rounds into the bodyguard’s skull, causing the lumbering giant to fall, and front flipping off the rafter onto the second floor, tumbling behind a patch of boxes. Shocked, the mercenaries’ base reaction was to spray his last area with automatic fire. Both dealers scampered out of sight, Despairer hiding behind his minions, while Rager scampered behind the desk. Rolling over the boxes, he surprised the defenders with a spray of bullets streaked in blue, dropping the incompetent hired muscle. Hearing a terrible roar, the calm killer turned to be greeted with a swipe to the chest, sending him halfway across the room. Standing up to greet his new attacker, he wasn’t surprised to see the body guard up to full height, gauntlets surging with a red color, the same color also filling his eyes.

“Heh, only meant to slow you that’s all,” was his response.
Replying with a grunt the bodyguard surged again, seeming larger and faster than before. Seeing the charge this time, the calm nemesis sent a barrage of bullets into the bodyguard, slowing him down long enough for his escape to strafe the beast. Aiming at his pursuer feet, he unleashed a slew of well-aimed shots surrounded by a bluish light, which crippled it, sending the guard to crash on the floor. Coolly walking up to the defeated humanoid, he sent round after round into its head, watching the spasms until the coursed no more.

More of a hassle than I would like, but now to deal with the last two of our guests. The killer thought, going towards the Rage diplomat, not hesitating to finish off Despairer’s whimpering with a multitude of rounds, stopping only when he ceased moving and knowing the full consequences of denying this necessity.

Dragging the Rager from within the desk the interrogator demanded, “Tell me what the trade was about, or you will end up like your counterpart sooner than you would like.” With a swift kick, the smaller man tried to escape with his gauntlets growing sharper. Unalarmed, the spy shot the rebel’s legs, immobilizing the target. “I won’t ask you again, you can tell me what you were dealing in and I might let you back to your backward leader or I could end it all just now,” he said coolly.

Seeing the futility in resisting, the man gave in.
“Alright! All right, I give up. Go and pick up the briefcase if you want to know.” He uttered, motioning to his dead conspirator, gritting his teeth in fury. Retrieving the parcel the assassin opened it, noting the wounded mans growing rage but confident that he had the situation under control.

His last feeble hope. Pity, will I have to blow off the arms next? The infiltrator mused, focused on discovering what his superiors wanted to know of so badly. Eyes greeted by a row of syringes with a dozen of vials on each side, it was a sight that made him wonder and then smile.

“You’re quite a clever bunch of hicks and pawns, aren’t you?” the hostage taker accused in an amused tone.

“You’re the pawns! Or at least fools for turning a blind eye to one of the greatest avenues yet explored! The union of Gornad and Illip will rule over all! Even your precious Silia will be demo-aggh!” retorted the captive, cut short and furious from the pain felt by fresh bullet wounds in the arms, located precisely in the arteries, which left the barrel with a mythic speed.

“Your hotheaded remarks have just earned your death. You forget the control we have over our weapons? My, Raging Fist must be losing these wars quite terribly to go to such desperation. Nevertheless, your crime is found and justice swift. Don’t you remember the Pact? Such things as this is forbidden.” Responded the executioner.

Closing the briefcase he turned to head out of the building, hearing the outbursts from the lone Rager growing weaker and fainter until the final door slam silenced his cries forever.

Leaning against the door, Venar sighed at what he has just learned.

P.S. I apologize if indentation or the flow is skewed, i copy and pasted to the best of my ability from Word. ^^