It's another Norco Fanction!! That is, a fiction by Norco.
I own nothing, except for my computer, the clothes on my person, and my sanity. 
Sometimes not even that...
norco@fantasysquare.com

No Rest for the LionHearted - Chapter One

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one takes place about three or four months after my first 
fanfiction, End of Battle; Start of War. Please, tell me what you think of this 
fanfiction and the others!! ^_^

PROLOGUE

  Floating through space in this manner was similar to being in the womb. 
Painfully incomplete, yet burning for revenge. A small figure drifted to a 
small, blue green planet. It had been months since the creature had set foot on 
a planet. Pure in form and focus, it drifted some more. And, as an ancestor had 
done more than 2000 years ago had done, it plunged into the atmoshpere, speeding 
through the currents of air like a knife through butter. A large explosion 
marked the end of the descent. Now, with it's feet firmly planted on the solid 
earth, it began to grow. The power that it had once housed began to return. 
Soon, revenge would be for the savouring. But for now, it needed to grow, to re-
assert itself.

CHAPTER 1:
  President Laguna Loire of Esthar was busily writing an introductory speech for 
a presidential function that afternoon, complaining to himself how much he hated 
this sort of work, when the call came through. Putting his pen down, with some 
measure of relief, he thumbed the connection switch. A young man's clean shaven 
face appeared on the screen. Laguna recognized him as one of his aides.
  "Mr President," the aide began, his face deadly serious. "I have some -" 
Laguna cut him off with a raised finger. 
  "I hate being called 'president'." He smiled gently. "Now, what can I do for 
you?" The aide swallowed just visibly.
  "I have some information for you. A few days ago, a small comet or some sort 
of interstellar body recently crashed out in the desert. Our scientists don't 
understand what exactly this is, and they'd like permission to inverstigate. 
They've also asked to take a detachment from the Cronus Wing." The hairs on the 
back of Laguna's neck began to prickle. The Cronus wing was an elite section of 
the Esthar Army, being used for all sorts of dangerous missions. They would not 
have requested Cronus Wing unless they were certain of immesne danger.  Laguna 
could see the worried look on the young man's face. He probably knew that this 
was a little more serious than a simple meteroite.
  "I'm sure that the scientists are just being cautious. After all, they are 
scientists." Laguna gave the man a reassuring smile. "Permission granted."
  "Of course." The aide forced a sickly smile. "Good day to you, Mr. Presi-" He 
cut himself off. "Mr Loire." Laguna smiled at him as he thumbed the cutoff 
switch.After a moment's pause, he thumbed the machine again, and punched in a 
number. It rang several times, and was ansered by an elderly woman.
  "Laguna!" The woman cried, her eyes crinkling as she smiled warmly at him. 
"It's been a while! What have you been up to?"
  "Presidential duties, I'm afraid," Laguna said, returning the smile. "How's 
life been treating you, Anna?" The woman shrugged, then sighed.
  "Same old, same old, though I can't complain. So, what can I do for you?"
  "Are the two larrikins there? I need to have a word with them." Anna smiled, 
she knew that Laguna would want to speak to them. The housekeeper played this 
game with him everytime. She'd stay on, until Laguna showed some sort of 
interest (fake or otherwise) in anything else besides her two charges.
  "Hang on, I'll put them on." She touched her screen, and a gentle piano melody 
started playing, the picture fading into the Esthar logo. After a few moments, 
the logo and music both faded away into two familiar men.
  "Laguna. When was the last time that you called us, you big important person?" 
Kiros said mockingly on the other side of the screen. Ward was behind him, 
dwarfing Kiros as usual. "Anna said that you wanted to speak to us. So what else 
is new?"
  "Plenty," Laguna informed him, his tone grim.
  "Uh-oh," Kiros staged-whispered to Ward, "Everytime he gets serious, I get 
worried." He turned back to the camera. "Should I be worried?"
  "Probably. I got a call from one of my aides, and he informed me that some 
sort of meteroite crashed in the desert. A couple of scientists put in a request 
to have a small detachment of Cronus Wing accompany them." He let the 
implications of that sink in. 
  "Uh-oh," Kiros mumbled. Ward just stood there, his face impassive and neutral.
  "I just wanted to let you know that we may have to make a call Balamb," Laguna 
said, still transfixed on the screen.
  "Yeah. Listen, why don't you wait until the scientists report in." I think 
that you may be getting a little worked up other nothing." He was right, of 
course. Apart from sending out the entire Esthar army, there was very little he 
could do. He smiled, turning his attention back to the two of them. He was just 
about to open his mouth, when a giant crash came of the speaker. Ward and Kiros' 
heads turned sharply. Kiros swore viciously.
  "Listen, Laguna, We gotta dash, a swarm of Anacondaur have just descended on 
our sheep" Ward was now off the screen, and several animal screams that sounded 
like Anacondaur could be heard, along with sickening splats. No matter how many 
times that he heard it, he simply could not get over the fact that Kiros and 
Ward were farming sheep, a lucrative business in Esthar, the only one of it's 
kind.
  "Okay, I'll let you go, Mr. Shepard." Laguna grinned lopsidedly. Kiros cut the 
switch, the Esthar Logo spinning slowly until Laguna shut off his machine. He 
picked up the pen and grimaced. Before the call had come in, he was making 
progress. And now, his inspiration had drained away. Groaning softly, he resumed 
writing.

  It grew. And now, as it lay here in the dark sands of near oblivion, it sensed 
inferior life forms. Similar to the filth of its home. The acknowledgement of 
the approaching filth gave rise to a storm of rage and hate. It was almost 
ready, but for now, it would have to dispose of the filth here, before it could 
recooperate fully and unleash its wrath. Knowing what had to be done, it pressed 
its power and pain into a smaller, more inconspicuous form.

  Esthar Master of Science Paul Erminian and about ten other scientists rode 
quickly over the desert dunes in a military issue buggy. Several more buggies 
followed alongside, all in silence. The buggies were filled with scientific 
equipment, and of course, Cronus Wing's weapons and gear.
  "Science Master, we have arrived," the soldier driving his buggy said quietly, 
his tone was military and crisp. Such respect from military neanderthals was 
both deserved and respected, in his view. Ignoring the soldier completely, he 
waited until the vehilce slowed, and he jumped out, several other scientists 
jumping out as well. A few of the scientists returned to the other vehicles, and 
started to unpack the equipment. Taking out a pocket scanner, Erminian stepped 
over to the crater and scanned it. It was empty. Quiet Alarm bells went off in 
the back of his head. There should be something in this crater, he thought, as 
he scanned again. Nothing of consequence. 
  "Hi there! Looking for something?" A seemingly friendly voice cried out 
throught the desert evening. A dozen or so heads turned to see a simple young 
man, in his late twenties, barefoot, holding a long sword, striding towards 
them. 
  "Um .. Hi," Ermian wearily greeted the man, not expecting anyone out this time 
of night. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be out here."
  "I was on a bit of a hunt. My vehicle was attacked by .. " He paused, 
searching for the right word "Toramas!" he finally got out, as if unsure of what 
they are called. "I waited until nightfall, and came walking. And I found you 
guys. I don't suppose that I could hitch a ride?" The master scientist smiled at 
him. He turned away, and gestured towards the soldiers.
  "Someone will give you something to eat," he said, and turned back to the 
crater. "I don't suppose that you -" His voice abruptly turned into a scream as 
a white hot fire pierced through his midsection. He realised that it was the 
strangers sword that had struck through him. He looked down, and mixed with his 
blood, he saw an eeire colored fire surrounding the sword, which pulled out of 
him. He fell to the sandy floor, unable to move, unable to speak as the 
stranger, with unnerving accuracy, deadliness, dispatched the soldiers, then the 
scientists, in particularly gruesome fashions. The stranger turned back to him, 
a twisted grin on his face.
  "W-Who are you?" the science master stammered, barely able to get the words 
out through the pain. 
  "My name is Peregrine, and I am from another world. You are filth. You will 
die. You, and the rest of your pathetic, filthy race." Even though he had no 
feeling in his lower chest and legs, the scientist's interest was piqued. There 
was a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, but he knew now that the time 
for asking questions, and indeed, his life itself was now drawing to a close. 
And after several agonizing blows, everything went black. 

  With the small party of human filth dispatched, Peregrine rose into the air, 
and followed the lines of power that flowed through everything in creation. He 
needed a focal point, a place to find what he'd come to this blasted world for. 
Something that he had no memory of, but he'd come here for a reason. 

END OF CHAPTER ONE