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Bearer of time

0 · 165 views · located in New Bodhum

a character in “Final Fantasy: The Shadow Pact”, as played by GeNeTiX


"Matter is obsolete without a frame of reference, as you are obsolete without a purpose.
Fortunately, it seems I would have a purpose for you. You're welcome."

Basic Details

Hometown: Unknown
Age: Unknown
Gender: Unknown
Race: Fal'Cie
Occupation: Bearer of Time
Sexual Orientation: None


This character has never been seen by human eyes, or at least, his appearance has never been documented.


Personality unknown - do fal'Cie even have personalities beyond a machine-like 'for the greater good' outlook?


No known equipment or classes as yet.


Khronica's history is unknown, though it would be assumed he/she is as old as Gran Pulse. As the maintainer of the very fabric of time itself, he/she would possess a fair knowledge of the universe's history, without the power to interact with it.

So begins...

Khronica's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sarot Ari Markas Character Portrait: Khronica Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by GeNeTiX
The time is at hand. They will come. They will. Fate is not simply avoided...
Provocation, inspiration - it's all the same.
Bait, like worms in a barrel of fish.
The piranhas will surface soon.

* * * * *

The string pulls back silently, as a young, hooded man lines up his shot - a juvenile Jackwing, perched carelessly in the open, lower branches of the forest North of New Bodhum. He feels the air brushing his fingers, instinctively telling him to correct his aim to compensate. A last moment taken to steady himself - followed by the soft whisper of the arrow flights scraping the bow. The Jackwing never knew what had hit it, an arrow plunged straight into it's upper body through the right wing, toppling it from the perch to land with a soft thud on the browning leaves of the undergrowth.

Content with his shot, Markas approaches his prey, withdraws the arrow, and secures the kill with his trusty knife. This'll fetch a fair price at market, no doubt. Jackwings are getting rarer... which means I must be doing my job right... Taking the bird by the feet, he binds it with fishing line, and places it in a sack with the other trophies from today's hunt. He mumbles a few words of prayer in Old Pulsian, as a mark of thanks for the luck he has been blessed with today.

"That'll do..." he mutters to himself, looking into the bag. "Off to Odyssia, my friends. The locals can have at you." A slight grin graces his hidden eyes - there are few things more satisfying than a good haul, but a slap-up meal certainly comes close. Slinging the brown sack over his shoulder, opposite his bow, he makes his way back to town, his left hand resting on his knife - you never know when a hungry creature awaits behind a tree for you...

* * * * *

Remarkably, nothing seemed to go wrong as he leaves the forest, entering the North gate of New Bodhum with his haul. Still early... Might be able to catch the ferry if I hurry.

He picks up the pace, never normally a problem, because it's unlikely anyone would attempt to stop him for a conversation, but the sack itself weighs the same as a grown man, so he doesn't push himself too hard. Eventually, he reaches the docks, observing that the town is pretty quiet for the end of the week - usually, the merchants flock out at the hint of dawn to set up for the rush of tourists headed to Odyssia and even for those who want to get a good spot on the beach.

Undeterred by this knowledge, he heads to the booking office, and books a ticket on the first crossing to Odyssia. Despite not leaving for another half an hour, he boards the ferry, and takes the time to rest up, before the boat gets crowded.

The setting changes from Gran Pulse to New Bodhum


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rowan Lotton Character Portrait: Sarot Ari Markas Character Portrait: Victor Maxwell Character Portrait: Odyssia Frig Eona Character Portrait: Katia Fuuma Character Portrait: Khronica
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#, as written by GeNeTiX
They work so hard to find a calling,
they let time judge the worth of their labours,
but they come to find at the end of their time:
purpose is just a matter of perspective -

Your labours haven't even begun...

Sarot Ari Markas

Markas rests back in a weathered booth seat, that wouldn't look too out of place in a 50's diner, with its blue leathery upholstery. The bag of dead Jackwings lies under a spotless white table, thankfully sealed shut to prevent any odours escaping. He watches the tourists and merchants boarding the ferry for its first run of the day - an elderly couple in walking gear, a young family, a female NORA soldier. He notices something strange about her, as though he had seen her somewhere before - a dream half forgotten... and only a fraction clear.

Rather quickly, he finds himself drifting back to days of old, trying to find anything in his memory to help him recall her - nothing... He shrugs it off as being a coincidence and looks past her towards the distant island of Odyssia; despite the mystery surrounding it, it afforded him shelter, and the promise of a decent pay for his services, and even a hearty meal to top it off, which would do him good. Life as a stalker by profession can be uncertain at best; failure to track your prey can lead to some very long nights in the cold, and from Markas' own experience, any night out in the wild could be your last.

The boat is almost full now, bustling with tourists and folks hoping to catch a few bargains. Every table is occupied, except his own: a man in a hood with a dubious looking bag apparently carried prejudice... A horn is sounded, as a warning that the boat is going to depart, then only a minute later, it pulls away from the docks. Markas closes his eyes, and drifts away into a light snooze, living in the past with shadows of friends.

Carrus Research Facility, Hope's Reach

Numerous men in white protective suits enter the room, wheeling in cages each containing a wild animal - panthereons, gremlins, flans and more... Without uttering a word through their darkened visors, they push the twelve cages into the testing chamber for Maxwell's experimentation, before sealing the chamber and leaving the room.

An intern shudders and mutters to himself: "This is just, cruel..."
His friend nudges him: "Better here than in the hands of NORA... at least here they get fed, right?"
The first intern returns a blank look, and waits for Maxwell.

The Seiren Market, Odyssia

Eona's shock comes from the sight of numerous stalls knocked over by what would appear to have been gale force winds... however, the fact that only a handful of nearly a hundred stalls in the market have been affected, would suggest some kind of supernatural force. She can't help but wonder whether a l'Cie is behind this. There are two PSICOM soldiers here, enquiring with the stall owners to find out what happened, though from this distance, it is hard to make out what is being said.

The market itself is a normally a very busy place in the mornings, a fine labyrinth of stalls, cannily trying to trap tourists in a web of cheap wares and attractive bargains, however, this incident has drawn a crowd around the area, so things seem slow in the rest of the market.

As the PSICOM soldiers leave the shopkeepers to mend their stalls, one can be heard saying to the other, "Do we need to report this? Can we be sure there's a l'Cie behind this?"
His partner doesn't even pause to look at him. "Yes. There's a l'Cie here. We need to request back up - if there's a l'Cie here, it can't mean anything good for us. The question is, what were they looking for here, and why?"