Thanks, Sky. I appreciate the input, despite the god awful lateness of my reply. (I read your reply just now, as I was reviving this damn thing. Sorry...)
Me thinks that I should put up my old works here, since I actually DO want my thread to live...
For now, though, I leave this post, as I have some writing based plans with some explosives, a cloning device, and PB's scarf...
Stay tuned...
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Edit: Since it appears that I need to actually be quick in order to catch any of my ideas and put them into writing, I'll just write something nice and quick here...
As the night sky shines with the light of the moon and stars, while most would have fun, eat, sleep, or any mix of the three...
There is one soul who is doing no such thing, for he has prepared to bring about a most curious occurrence indeed.
One that would leave its mark on the map, and bring this person name into the records of this world's history...
For this night would soon be remembered by many simply as...
"The Birth of the Second Moon"
Within the tent of the not so well known Twilight Trigger,
A curious glow of several different colors starts to seep out from it's openings.
A hum begins to resonates in a sort of rhythm through the air,
The light seemingly vibrating and strobe in tune with the unearthly sound.
With a small passing of time, the sound rises in pitch and frequency,
The speed of it and the light starting to ascend into a rapid fire crescendo of oddity.
And just when the sound and light would appear to of reached a sort bewildering harmony,
A cluster of voices in a nearly silent chant can be heard echoing in sync with all else, loud and clear...
"To light, it's true hues bright.
To shadow, it's true shades slight.
To life, it's true form in sight.
To soul, it's true state our might."
As the verse repeats again and over, it's words spread throughout the land.
The force of said words echo in the minds of all, whether at play, in dream, and even simply into other things.
They would repeat and repeat, disrupting their sleep and thoughts.
The people notice would soon fall upon this chant, and soon after, it's source.
For RPM takes poorly to those who disturb their order of peace and lustful enjoyment.
And many would strike and smite the ones who would dare to bring their night of bliss to a screeching halt.
When they reach the origin of said nuisance, they note the extreme power that now seemingly surrounds the tent.
The winds howling in tandem with the euphonic cacophony, lifting the cloth much akin to a sharp breeze assaulting a skirt.
And at the heart of it all was the group of said chant, sorcerers all, dressed in flowing robes, each one in a brilliant, unique color.
In the center of their magic circle, a shimmering crystal, with rings spinning around it at otherworldly levels of speed.
It's power growing with every syllable that was spoken, the sound and light enveloping all, casting the area in an almost seizure inducing ambiance.
There could be no doubt as to the fact that this was something that, if not halted immediately, could end up making a real mess of things.
Those with little patience struck first, in an attempt to return to their nightly routine.
The force of the magic, however, proved to be a baffling barrier to try and break.
As it was not simply the circle itself, but their own power and energy as well that replied to them.
And repeated assaults only resulted in more of the same, all in equal measure each time.
Those with well trained tried next, looking from every possible angle to perceive a weak point in their defense.
But that, as well, proved to be fruitless, for the magic disrupted everything, and changed too quickly for any such thing to show.
The chanting did little to aid matters, and the chant itself held nothing that would tie it to any spell that they knew of.
With it's power ever growing in focus, it was clear that this could not be someone mere whim, but a fully planned casting.
The foundations for it taking months to assemble, and the amount of energy present demanding many sleepless weeks.
The kind tried next, trying to speak with the chanters, asking them to stop this madness.
Alas, the pleas fell on deaf ears, for said sorcerers were too focused, seemingly entranced to hear.
Their eyes far too into their spell, and their crystal, to feel or notice such tender words.
As if nothing else mattered but their own business, their own mystical work in progress.
Finally, those with immense power attempted to deafen their chant, drowning it with all forms of devastating attacks.
And as one force was being turned against its respective users, it was met with another strike from said beings.
Using different powers each, mixing their forces together, even creating new attacks against the offending, defiant magicians.
In a great and ever more rising set of waves of various energies that could, were it directed elsewhere, potentially destroy all things.
None of them letting up, not one of them giving the said circle an inch or centimeter, each pouring massive levels of power into every blow.
And each of them silently agreeing that the pressure from their combined wrath would shatter all within the circle.
The assault, seemingly endless as time and dimension became distorted to fit in more and more of their spite into their fight,
Without a single shred of relent or remorse, they carried on throughout the hours, trying to grind the tent and all inside to nonexistence.
When all had finally resolved and the smoke had cleared, each of the respective forces no longer saw any light nor heard a single word.
At last, they thought in unison, it had been completely and utterly been dealt with, their minds and time no longer to be bothered by the chant.
The forces of the world, feeling relieved at their victory over such a annoyance, turned to leave this spot, and resume their lives as before.
But, as it would be so unfortunate for them, the light and noise returned, resounding in a even more harmonic, yet dissonant manner.
The chanting from before, however, was absent, and the crystal was now brimming with power most impossible, yet shockingly true.
Power that was, in fact, of the very forces, their very strikes, used against the circle, meant to bring it all to an end.
Power that was now a part of the core of this most persistent of incantations, as it shined with seemingly insane form of luminescence.
And, at last, a new sound was heard, and moments more, a voice spoke aloud, reciting a new verse.
All in a tone in which all who were present knew all too well, for it revealed who was the cause of this mess, and was to come.
"Spell of the eternal light,
Shadow of all Matter,
And the Soul of all Worlds.
By the powers now offered here,
Blessings, curses, and unbridled might,
We now plea to you to grant our wish this night."
A resounding force, a pulse of absolute, shook the core of all things for a moment, as if to answer.
"With this Dew of Life, we now make our wish..."
Silence stood for a moment before the magician stated in a thoroughly steeled resolve.
"From this world, Planet Rockman Perfect Memories, revive our beloved Phantom Moon, and allow its existence here, in this world's orbit!"
The said magician pointed up to the night sky, in an obviously empty space.
The Dew of Life glistened for a moment, and everything seemed to be waiting impatiently for 'something' to occur.
A few moments longer than it should of been, but before anyone could get in a word edgewise,
A nearly transparent illusion of a large moon appeared at the spot designated by his index finger.
The crystal shined to the point of a severely blinding light, and an explosion raced throughout the area.
A pillar of debris and energy shot upwards thereafter, and streaked into the night sky.
And several streams of energy from the cosmos flowed into said illusion, as if to meet up with this shining gem head on.
The night became brighter than the most brilliant midday for a few moments, a roaring boom echoing upon the masses of RPM.
And the phantom moon, once a mere image, was now real, and a part of the RPM world.
As the circle of sorcerers relaxed, their task having now been complete, one of the elite members approached Zephyr and stated this simply...
"You know, you could of asked us for that moon instead of doing all this..."
Zephyr turned to the said member and, with weary eyes and a Cheshire cat's grin, replied just as simply.
"I know that, but it wouldn't of been very memorable or fun that way."
And then the people of RPM beat him up, while his fellow sorcerers, having left in a hurry, went to enjoy themselves on a job well done.
The End.
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...
Wow, I didn't think that I would get so involved in a story.
And, before anyone asks, yes, I am going to draw the "second moon" and the scorched area where the tent once stood, and I'm going to make a map of said moon and post it here. (Whether or not it actually becomes part of the map of RPM is, as with everything else, up to Mistress Vixy.)
And I still have to do some more stories, but for now...
Until we meet again.
Second Edit: I said that I would draw the second moon (and I still intend to), but I think that a different story than the one that I've used here should be used to explain how it got there...