Eternal Waltz
E __ternal_ W_altz
There on the edge of a bed sat a tall slender bodied female fox, her eye bloodshot, the fur beneath her eyes stained with tears. She could not believe this was happening; covering her body was a one-piece dark blue flight suit, with black shoulder guards gracing her shoulders. From her hips and shoulders dangled what looked to be a more modernized version of battle armour, stuff that knights of old used. It was grey in colour and looked to have been used many times over; gouges and scrapes ravaged the metalwork. There lay on the bed she sat upon was a Black wolf, red tribal markings started at his left eye and traveled down his body. His chest fur tuft was matted in blood; a single stab wound penetrated his body. A black trench cloak draped over the side of the bed, a single black bladed sword leaned against the right side of the bed, silver designs on the hilt.
"God damn you, why did I have to have met you... Why did it have to be you?" The fox screamed aloud, her voice echoing off the walls of a metal plated room. Only one window sat upon the right side of the room, just outside of the six panes of glass stood a vast majority of blackness, speckled with white shining spots. In the distance sat a large rock with two rings circling it, those rings made up of dust and large chunks of rock mixed with ice. The rock with two rings just so happened to be a planet... a planet that the fox, the wolf and a few others had just escaped from. The planet went by the name of Xan, a home to filthy smugglers and cutthroats, not to mention the corrupt government that once ravaged the entire planet. Now as this tale is being told, the last remains of that government are being destroyed. Let us go back one year's time and explore the tale of how this came to be...
Chapter one: The rider
Whoosh! At the speed of sound, a lone gunship soared through the darkness that was space. The ship was grey in colour; the helm of the ship was red with white stripes leading down the entire length of the ships hull. Looking inside the helm, we see a single pilot, it being a black wolf, male in gender. His fur was shining softly in the light being emitted from the control panel that sat in front of him. From his left eye down were red tribal markings, that seemed to not be tattooed to his body, but actually etched into his fur and skin by birth, meaning he was born with the markings. The wolf had a look of contempt upon his face; he looked as if he could not stand for any more stupidity. A smoke white mane shot out from the top of his head like hair, to be exact it was hair. He reached out and took hold of the steering column, and guided his ship through the vast nothingness that was space.
His eyes were a pale yellow; silver tipped hairs at the base of his eyes. He wore a black trench cloak that had bands of silver streaming from side to side, and occasionally around the forearm and shoulder. Around his hips rested loose black leather jeans, all being held up by a brown Kevlar belt with a single silver buckle. Going down his body, to his tail we see that traveling down either side are a single line of red fur, traveling the length of his tail and engulfing the tips in its red flare. In the direct center of his tail, during the bulk of it sat a marking that seemed to be Pagan or Celtic in origin. He wore black leather gloves over his hands in hopes of covering up scars... and his past. However, at the exact moment, the universe must have either felt the need to bring about the past or create a new string of events, for as his ship passed a sub-space checkpoint a large flash appeared, seconds later a Cronalt rider passed before his ship. He quickly deployed all flaps and puts the throttle at zero; his ship flew forwards for a couple hundred meters before coming to a complete halt.
He sat back before giving off a sigh of relief, if he had hit that rider he would have most likely been thrown into the Interstellar Correctional Facility (or I.C.F. for short) for the remainder of his existence. He undid his seat restraints and lifted himself out of his chair; the zero gravity of space was at times a hindrance, but at others a time saver. He quickly made his way to the launching bay, propped himself in the salvager pod and jettisoned himself from his ship. After making a few course adjustments, he was able to see the Cronalt rider's ship and in which state it was. He could not believe he did not hit the ship, but looking back at his ship, he knew he did not hit the rider's ship at all. He looked on to see the rider's ship in complete shambles, both engine's were a blaze, a large chunk of its left side missing and lights flickering on and off repeatedly. The wolf slowly made his way over to the ship with the salvager pod and examined the ship closer, noticing that not only was the left side missing, it seemed to have been shot off, completely blown off the body of the ship itself. The wolf quickly docked with the ship and boarded, exiting his salvager and beginning his exploration of the Cronalt rider's ship.
First, let me tell you what a Cronalt rider is. A Cronalt rider in an interstellar knight per say, they are to uphold the laws of universe as passed by the Galactic courts. Most are corrupt cutthroats, but there are some who up hold their purpose. Cronalt rider's get their name from a group of individuals that were knights of an old order. They rode creatures by the name of Cronalts, beasts that resembled creatures of human legends named dragons. These knights of old swore to protect the location of a sub-space wormhole that would lead whomever entered to a planetary system said to hold the key to unlocking limitless power. Many of the ancestors of these great warriors have all long since forgotten the information that had been passed down from generation to generation. Those who did remember the closely guarded secret were usually a modern day Cronalt rider, though most rider's tend to be people whom just love the respect that comes with the position. Nowadays modern Cronalt rider's travel around in large ships that were cleverly named Cronalts seeing as the last of the true Cronalt race died off more then a millennia ago. Now back to our story.
The wolf began scouring through the wreckage that sat inside the ship. Once he realized that the oxygen level was so low he reached into the pack he had brought with him and pulled out a transference mask, a mask that converted the cold unbreathable atmosphere of space into clean oxygen. He was about to completely give up when all of a sudden a female fox fell from an overhead compartment, landing directly atop of him. She was mouthing the word "air" repeatedly; he knew he had no other transference masks, but he also knew he could not just leave a Rider out in space to die. Therefore, he quickly rose her body off of his and rested her upon his shoulder. Upon returning to his salvager he quickly undocked and narrowly escaped the large exploding mess that was the rider's ship. After safely making it back to his ship, he entered the launching bay and rested his pod down on the bay floor. He exited the pod and brought with him the fox; with her in hand, he walked out of the bay and into the infirmary. There he laid her out on the table and began to treat her wounds and lack of breathing.
After finishing tending to her injuries and aliment, he went about piloting his ship again. He could not stop thinking about why a rider would have been all the way out here, or what that large flash of light was. He shook the thought from his head and began to now think of how beautiful she was. Right then and there he felt as if he was going completely crazy. He softly shook that thought from his head as well and went about piloting the ship to his destination. He was making his way from a planet name Titan Prime to a planetary system known as Iszan X. A lone thought began to twist around in his head, running its presences nearer and nearer until finally it popped. He softly spoke in a dark yet sturdy tone,
"This is going to be a fucking long flight."
To be continued...