Interlude: I Am A Pulse L'Cie And I'm Here To Kill You All
Like most of your actions, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. You saw Cocoon, the old Cocoon, coming down from their mighty perch to 'deal with' the nations they found surrounding them, and with that came an opportunity.
An opportunity for you to exact revenge for… damn near everything that's ever gone wrong. The start of your hundreds of years of suffering all laid at the feet at the Cocoon Fal'Cie, and one specific one in particular.
Primarch Galenth Dysley, true name: Barthandelus. The ruler of Cocoon, who is secretly the Fal'Cie's ringleader. The one who, to your recollection, orchestrated the fall of Cocoon in some cosmic tantrum.
You wanted to punch him in the fucking face. Every time you tried all those years ago, you bounced off his stupid personal barrier, well no more!
When you fought him the first time, you were a fresh L'Cie, given a criminally short timelimit and thrown through conflict after conflict to forge you in iron. By the end, you were strong, but unskilled. Unrefined. But now?
You were a thrice-born L'Cie, Anima, Cactuar, and now Pandaemoneum. All but the last brand has been burned away, but the power still exists inside you. You have protected Yusnaan for five hundred years.
After all that, why couldn't you beat him? Why shouldn't you feel his metal skull break beneath your fist? Why shouldn't you avenge-!
Ice started creeping up from your brand, and you had to unclench your fist to make it go away.
You didn't have much of a plan, you were going to announce that the Cocoon refugees can go home if they wanted, arrange a meeting with the Primarch, and then beat the shit out of him. Again, it wasn't much of a plan…
But since when do Heroes need plans?
The Primarch turned down your generous offer to visit Yusnaan, perhaps visit The Slaughterhouse or your palace. If you were going to meet him, it would be on his terms, on his flagship, the Palamecia. Surrounded by a dozen PSICOM soldiers in case you got any funny ideas.
Typical arrogant Cocoon posturing, but you would play along… For now.
"What an eyesore…" You mutter under your breath as you pass through the overwrought halls of the airship.
"What was that?" The leader of your little group turned to you. A PSICOM Reaver, decked out in the most expensive and stupid-looking suit of armor you've ever seen. Armor plates jutted from his shoulders like shields, the helmet was adorned with ornaments resembling behemoth horns, and the collar of the uniform had little metal strips that poked up like peacock feathers.
"Nothing sir. It's simply my first time on such an… extravagant vessel." You lie casually. If the Reaver thought anything of it, he didn't say anything.
Finally, you entered the bridge, and there he was, Barthandelous in his human disguise, flanked by a few dozen more soldiers and PSICOM officers. You just had to wait until you got closer…
"So glad you could join us Patron." Barthandelous sneered. "I'm sure Cocoon can come to an arrangement with your… quaint little city."
… Ah you don't have the patience to put up with his shit. "Before we begin, there's something I must say!" You announce, turning towards the PSICOM Reaver with a broad smile.
The Reaver's armor crumples like an aluminum can as your fist crashes into his chest, sending him flying dozens of feet into the nearest wall. You catch his spear in your left hand, quickly snapping off the tip and using your ice magic to form the head of a poleaxe.
"I am a Pulse L'Cie and I'm here to kill you all!" At your declaration, you hear the click of guns having the safety taken off, and manadrives charging.
Adorable…
All it takes is a single heave of your axe to knock away the soldiers surrounding you, clearing the way for you to barrel towards Barthandelous.
The fight makes you feel alive in a way you haven't in years. Armor crunching beneath your fist, bones breaking, bodies thrown away like the trash they were and your axe cleaving through everything, almost without resistance.
The soldiers around Barthandelous were closing ranks and preparing to extract him, but you had cleared half the room already, at this pace, you could catch him.
"Bring in the L'Cie." Barthandelous commands.
"What, did you need more pawns? Tired of getting them elsewhere and had to make a few yourself?" You demand.
You're close enough now that you decide to just break through, smashing your way past the defending army without bothering to take them all out. Part of you dispassionately wonders if all members of PSICOM were this devoted, as you cut through more soldiers. They were just throwing their lives away, couldn't they see that?
Breaking through to to where the Primarch once stood, you see him quickly being ushered away through a corridor while a fresh squad of PSICOM rushes past to get in your way. You prepare to crush them…
And then you saw her
A face you only saw for a short time, but was burned into your mind. One of your failures, one of your sins. Nora Estheim, the woman you later learned was Hope's mother, standing before you. Pointing a gun in your direction, and with the grim expression of someone who knew they might die.
"Get him home… please."
You completely froze, axe raised, and fully prepared to cut her down. But you couldn't do it. You never could. That poor family has been through enough because of you.
"The Primarch has been extracted!" One officer yells. And as if waiting for it, a hail of bullets, and spells immediately bombards you, and at least a few rockets for good measure, nearly knocked over before you plant your feet and shift to Sentinel.
By the time the bombardment ends, you're standing in a metal crater, smoke peeling off you as blood drips from numerous bullet holes. Your suit is in tatters
… You can't fight Barthandelous like this. Grimacing heavily, you form a crystal in your hand, and crush it. "Shiva!"
As always the twins answer your call immediately. Stiria helps you stand, soothing your injuries with Curaga while Nix pays your attackers back in kind, scattering them with Blizzaga spells. She leaves Nora untouched, thankfully.
"Girls, we're leaving." You announce. They nod, and Nix quickly smashes the glass to the bridge with a spinning kick, while Stiria throws you into the air.
You land on their Gestalt form, and together you drive off into the sky. But all you can think about is one thing, one simple fact that made you ache inside. You failed. Just like you always had.
Some hero you were...
[Cocoon and Yusnaan are at war]
An opportunity for you to exact revenge for… damn near everything that's ever gone wrong. The start of your hundreds of years of suffering all laid at the feet at the Cocoon Fal'Cie, and one specific one in particular.
Primarch Galenth Dysley, true name: Barthandelus. The ruler of Cocoon, who is secretly the Fal'Cie's ringleader. The one who, to your recollection, orchestrated the fall of Cocoon in some cosmic tantrum.
You wanted to punch him in the fucking face. Every time you tried all those years ago, you bounced off his stupid personal barrier, well no more!
When you fought him the first time, you were a fresh L'Cie, given a criminally short timelimit and thrown through conflict after conflict to forge you in iron. By the end, you were strong, but unskilled. Unrefined. But now?
You were a thrice-born L'Cie, Anima, Cactuar, and now Pandaemoneum. All but the last brand has been burned away, but the power still exists inside you. You have protected Yusnaan for five hundred years.
After all that, why couldn't you beat him? Why shouldn't you feel his metal skull break beneath your fist? Why shouldn't you avenge-!
Ice started creeping up from your brand, and you had to unclench your fist to make it go away.
You didn't have much of a plan, you were going to announce that the Cocoon refugees can go home if they wanted, arrange a meeting with the Primarch, and then beat the shit out of him. Again, it wasn't much of a plan…
But since when do Heroes need plans?
The Primarch turned down your generous offer to visit Yusnaan, perhaps visit The Slaughterhouse or your palace. If you were going to meet him, it would be on his terms, on his flagship, the Palamecia. Surrounded by a dozen PSICOM soldiers in case you got any funny ideas.
Typical arrogant Cocoon posturing, but you would play along… For now.
"What an eyesore…" You mutter under your breath as you pass through the overwrought halls of the airship.
"What was that?" The leader of your little group turned to you. A PSICOM Reaver, decked out in the most expensive and stupid-looking suit of armor you've ever seen. Armor plates jutted from his shoulders like shields, the helmet was adorned with ornaments resembling behemoth horns, and the collar of the uniform had little metal strips that poked up like peacock feathers.
"Nothing sir. It's simply my first time on such an… extravagant vessel." You lie casually. If the Reaver thought anything of it, he didn't say anything.
Finally, you entered the bridge, and there he was, Barthandelous in his human disguise, flanked by a few dozen more soldiers and PSICOM officers. You just had to wait until you got closer…
"So glad you could join us Patron." Barthandelous sneered. "I'm sure Cocoon can come to an arrangement with your… quaint little city."
… Ah you don't have the patience to put up with his shit. "Before we begin, there's something I must say!" You announce, turning towards the PSICOM Reaver with a broad smile.
The Reaver's armor crumples like an aluminum can as your fist crashes into his chest, sending him flying dozens of feet into the nearest wall. You catch his spear in your left hand, quickly snapping off the tip and using your ice magic to form the head of a poleaxe.
"I am a Pulse L'Cie and I'm here to kill you all!" At your declaration, you hear the click of guns having the safety taken off, and manadrives charging.
Adorable…
Snow Villiers
Gender: Male
Age: ??? (Over 500)
Stats
Magic: 22 [37]
Martial: 30 [45]
Diplomacy: 21
Stewardship: 27
Intrigue: 13
Learning: 14
Innate Traits
Former L'Cie: Even if the brand is gone, the power remains. [+5 Martial and Magic. Allows the user to cast spells, even if the character was formerly incapable.]
L'Cie Brand [Pandaemoneum]: to be branded by a Fal'Cie is to obtain power beyond what humans are capable of, but be cursed to one of two ends. Turn into a crystal, or become Cieth. [+10 Martial and Magic. The character has functionally infinite MP and gains access to L'Cie Classes.]
Focus [???]: The cost of a L'Cie brand is to be given a Focus, a mission. The Focus must be complete within a certain timeframe, lest the L'Cie turn into a Cie'th. Even if the task is complete, they will turn to Crystal instead. [Character has ?? Turns before becoming a Cie'th. Their Focus is ???]
Sovereign Fist: Who needs a weapon when your fists alone are enough to bend metal and break bones? You don't even need your coat anymore... [All attacks made with the character's bare hands ignore damage resistance because of armor. Natural toughness or magical enhancements still apply.]
Gender: Male
Age: ??? (Over 500)
Stats
Magic: 22 [37]
Martial: 30 [45]
Diplomacy: 21
Stewardship: 27
Intrigue: 13
Learning: 14
Innate Traits
Former L'Cie: Even if the brand is gone, the power remains. [+5 Martial and Magic. Allows the user to cast spells, even if the character was formerly incapable.]
L'Cie Brand [Pandaemoneum]: to be branded by a Fal'Cie is to obtain power beyond what humans are capable of, but be cursed to one of two ends. Turn into a crystal, or become Cieth. [+10 Martial and Magic. The character has functionally infinite MP and gains access to L'Cie Classes.]
Focus [???]: The cost of a L'Cie brand is to be given a Focus, a mission. The Focus must be complete within a certain timeframe, lest the L'Cie turn into a Cie'th. Even if the task is complete, they will turn to Crystal instead. [Character has ?? Turns before becoming a Cie'th. Their Focus is ???]
Sovereign Fist: Who needs a weapon when your fists alone are enough to bend metal and break bones? You don't even need your coat anymore... [All attacks made with the character's bare hands ignore damage resistance because of armor. Natural toughness or magical enhancements still apply.]
The fight makes you feel alive in a way you haven't in years. Armor crunching beneath your fist, bones breaking, bodies thrown away like the trash they were and your axe cleaving through everything, almost without resistance.
The soldiers around Barthandelous were closing ranks and preparing to extract him, but you had cleared half the room already, at this pace, you could catch him.
"Bring in the L'Cie." Barthandelous commands.
"What, did you need more pawns? Tired of getting them elsewhere and had to make a few yourself?" You demand.
You're close enough now that you decide to just break through, smashing your way past the defending army without bothering to take them all out. Part of you dispassionately wonders if all members of PSICOM were this devoted, as you cut through more soldiers. They were just throwing their lives away, couldn't they see that?
Breaking through to to where the Primarch once stood, you see him quickly being ushered away through a corridor while a fresh squad of PSICOM rushes past to get in your way. You prepare to crush them…
And then you saw her
A face you only saw for a short time, but was burned into your mind. One of your failures, one of your sins. Nora Estheim, the woman you later learned was Hope's mother, standing before you. Pointing a gun in your direction, and with the grim expression of someone who knew they might die.
"Get him home… please."
You completely froze, axe raised, and fully prepared to cut her down. But you couldn't do it. You never could. That poor family has been through enough because of you.
"The Primarch has been extracted!" One officer yells. And as if waiting for it, a hail of bullets, and spells immediately bombards you, and at least a few rockets for good measure, nearly knocked over before you plant your feet and shift to Sentinel.
By the time the bombardment ends, you're standing in a metal crater, smoke peeling off you as blood drips from numerous bullet holes. Your suit is in tatters
… You can't fight Barthandelous like this. Grimacing heavily, you form a crystal in your hand, and crush it. "Shiva!"
As always the twins answer your call immediately. Stiria helps you stand, soothing your injuries with Curaga while Nix pays your attackers back in kind, scattering them with Blizzaga spells. She leaves Nora untouched, thankfully.
"Girls, we're leaving." You announce. They nod, and Nix quickly smashes the glass to the bridge with a spinning kick, while Stiria throws you into the air.
You land on their Gestalt form, and together you drive off into the sky. But all you can think about is one thing, one simple fact that made you ache inside. You failed. Just like you always had.
Some hero you were...
[Cocoon and Yusnaan are at war]
