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Zion - Light of the New Moon Milestone One

Bannihar Awaiting Word, Part 1

It was a unanimous decision to get back to the road and set up some kind of support for any members of the caravan that can get away from what must obviously be some horrible assault by the Corpses. The party decided to play it safe and rescue those who were deemed most able to be saved.

My hatchet is part of who I am... it has been a part of me for so long that I don't think that I could bear to be apart from it. With my hatchet I have cut down beasts, bandits, animals and guards... any who had tried to take my freedom or my life. I was tempted to set down my hatchet once, but I realized that was impossible when I was called to defend the Caravan... to defend the honor and integrity of the City of the Cloudless Day. It was a worthless gesture of course; Bannihar had lost any sense of their ideals long before the two hundred year war was first started.

Bannihar was at fault for the war with the elves... it was at fault for the Elven Curse... it was at fault for more than its populace could realize. Populous... what a funny thought-- they were more like slaves... like the slave I was forced to become in service to that damned prison. The Wild Lands have always been my home. The Wild Lands have always made more sense than the city ever did... except now. Standing atop a carriage surrounded by a hundred Corpses, the sound of the caravan watch's three horn warning still echoing on the air, the path that led me to this point almost seems like a dream. Then again, the one thing I had worth living for still feels like a dream too.

A Corpse snatches for my boot and it receives a crushed paw for all the trouble; I'm no specialist at unarmed combat, but you don't get anywhere near a Thylacine's feet and expect to come away unscathed. It doesn't stop at that, however... undead don't feel pain. I never did care for undead. My hatchet is part of who I am... and, at the moment, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than digging into that damn rotting coyote's head; my hatchet, of course, is happy to oblige.

Pulling my trusty weapon out of the Corpse's skull I let the unmoving body fall to the ground and quickly back away from the edge as three more undead fill its place. The Corpses swarmed out of the town so quickly it was impossible to get away. The Caravan was overrun in under two minutes and those of us who were able to live did so only by getting out of immediate reach of the shuffling Corpses. I never did care for undead.

"Mr. Jules?" a young mountain lion calls from behind me. Even though he's been following me around for the last few days I still don't remember his name. His uniform bars tell me enough that I can address him by his rank.

"What, Private?" I ask, stepping on another rotting paw that tries to get a grip on the top of the carriage. Based on how needy the boy is I can't believe he actually has a rank... he strikes me as more of a recruit. Then again, most of the city dwellers are soft so I shouldn't be surprised.

"There's no sign of the Priestess or the Champion." he says, his voice coming out like a whine.

"Isn't that something you should be talking to your commander about?" I ask. It comes out as more of a growl than I was planning on, but at some point these cubs have to follow their chain of command; I'm a scout and I don't want to be part of it.

"The wagon the Captain was on got overturned." the guard says in a small voice, pointing to a mob of undead swarming what looks like nothing more than a lump in the ground. I don't bother swiveling my ears in that direction since the last thing I need is to hear a dozen screaming city dwellers get torn apart.

I take a moment to look around at the gathered wagons, "They didn't leave us with any Divine Shields." I've never been much for the temple-- they hold safety and protection over their followers as leverage... 'Do as I say or I will let you die.'... I've seen it often enough. Despite my reservations about depending on the temple for assistance, I have to admit that having a Divine Shield to keep the undead at bay would feel pretty good at this moment. Instead, I have to settle for burying my hatchet into another Corpse's head... the one about to climb up onto the driver's seat.

It falls away from me... the body of a teenage rat, her head cleaved neatly open, and falls back into the mob that still endangers the carriage. Goddess, I'd feel better if there were someone else up here besides the private.

"Mr. Jules!" I hear the young guard's warning as he steps past me to bash his shield against a human Corpse; it was reaching for my ankle. Its already flat nose gets smashed further into its head and it falls off the carriage without further struggling, "That was close." he smiles. Before I have a chance to warn him, a Corpse tiger lashes out and its hooked claws sink into his thigh. The mountain lion screams, reaching desperately for me, but he's pulled off the roof before I can react... damn it... damn it all.

Moving to the center of the carriage's roof I begin a slow circling to keep an eye on all sides. 'The Last Dance', my men used to call it... men I would fight alongside when we'd attack caravans not unlike the one I'm supposed to be protecting... I'd been doing a damn good job of it too... up until this point. All around me I hear shouts and screams from others in a situation not unlike mine. There comes a time in your life when you realize that, despite what you think, you many not be the main character in the story of life... and I'm starting to feel that way right now.

I hear the sound of the Corpse climbing up behind me before I have a chance to turn and see it. Pivoting on my foot I let my tail lead the way, knocking the undead horse off balance. My hatchet is part of who I am and, at the moment, every part of me wants that rotting Corpse off of this carriage... that part of me drives the thought home as it shatters his neck and cuts his head clean off. I bring my foot up to kick the headless body off of my not-so-defensible position. I turn around, already having heard the sound of more foes climbing up to my height: two deer.

Despite being humble, I am an excellent gauge of my abilities, so it's no bragging when I say I'm in excellent physical shape... but ten minutes of constant warfare can tire anyone out and I haven't had a chance to stop just yet. My shoulders are starting to get tired... my legs are starting to ache... my hatchet is dripping blood... none of it mine... yet. Raising my weapon back up to the ready, I say the only thing I can think of to say to the Corpses, "Well? I haven't got all day."

One of them jerks forward. Despite the fact that undead are supposed to be uncoordinated, I still can't help but think the movement abnormal. When it falls forward onto its muzzle, an arrow protruding neatly from the back of its head, I come to understand why that was. Facing off against just one Corpse is much easier. Despite a small scratch from its antler, I emerge unscathed... and it is laying down among its brethren on the ground. Wasting no more time on the corpse I figure looking for the source of that arrow is much more worthwhile.

"Gather!" I hear a shout from off to the left. Considering the fact that I'm surrounded by Corpses, I don't plan on paying the order much attention... but I take a glance. One of the wagon leaders is motioning back toward the road. Before looking at something farther away I always make it a point to make sure there's nothing closer first. Three kicks later, with a much less Corpse-infested carriage roof, I take a moment to catch sight of Iskiy Thrush and suddenly the Corpse with the arrow in its head makes a lot more sense.

My hatchet is part of who I am. and who I am is someone who is prone to violence. I'm not stupid though... you don't live very long in the Wild Lands by being stupid. I only spend a few seconds taking stock of the situation; I have to get off of the carriage; I have to get away from the corpses; I have to form up with anyone else who has a beating heart; I need to stay alive doing it. "May as well ask for a kiss complete with tongue from Tah'Aveen while you're at it, Julianna." I tell myself, "She's probably a great kisser." I point out, delivering a powerful kick to the head of a Corpse that got a little too high.

I hear a loud thump of metal against wood and that's more than enough to end my little pity party. Looking that way-- Goddess! Is he STILL alive? The young mountain lion, covered in blood and missing large hunks of flesh, somehow still has the strength to pull himself back onto the carriage. Why aren't the Corpses trying to pull him back down? Fuck it. "Come here... fast!" I move over, grabbing hold of his wrist, "Up! Now!"

I bite back a cry of pain when he bites my arm, but the gasp of surprise still gets out. "What are--?" I don't need to finish the question when he looks up at me with hollow eyes. Goddess! He became one of them! I manage to force him back so I can get my arm out of his muzzle, and I replace it with one of my paws. Kicking him in the gut, I knock him off balance, holding him up with one paw on the top of his muzzle and the other paw on his lower jaw. It doesn't take a lot of strength to break it, but he doesn't seem to notice, and he brings his claws to bear; thankfully, I have armor.

Looking at the soulless eyes staring back at me, it's obvious that there's nothing left of the uncertain young mountain lion in the animated husk of a body trying to kill me. No part of him remains... which means it's time for part of me to be there instead. I feel the satisfying crunch of my hatchet burying itself into his neck, but he still tries to bite at me again with his unworking muzzle. Two... three... four... and, on the fourth swing of my hatchet, he finally stops moving. He wasn't that bad of a cub for a City Dweller... but now's not the time to mourn.

The sound of two arrows striking their mark is enough to get me up and moving again. I spin around on my knees, looking up into the teetering form of an undead ox. As I look at him, the body jerks again as another arrow flies true. Completing the spin, I let my tail knock the Corpse's hooves out from under it, sending it falling back down to the ground. I get to my feet. Either I find a way off of the carriage or I'm done.

As if to answer my prayers, several enormous pillars begin to sprout out of the ground, a long, stone causeway spanning the distance between them. People from the tops of the carriages on both sides of the bridge begin jumping to it. Some make it... some don't. The stone walkway continues to grow toward me, and I ready myself to make the leap; I'm confident in my acrobatics and I know I'll be just fine. People are calling from behind me for help, but my memories of what Dresna told me drowns them out easily.

"I don't care of you're in a fight and all about to be wiped out... leave them to their fate and come back to me." she said. I agreed, of course, laughing on the inside... I mean, how likely is it that an entire caravan was going to get wiped out? Looking around, I'm not laughing now. Dras was the first person in a long time to learn that I was not a man, and the first woman I'd ever taken to bed... those bastards in Bannihar have always been uptight about that kind of thing... but I have to focus on the present.

I shake out my injured arm, opening and closing my paw several times to make sure the bite wound hasn't affected my grip; thank the Goddess it hasn't. With more Corpses climbing up onto the carriage with me and a pillar already growing beside my perch, I realize I won't have enough time to wait for the bridge; I jump. The pillar continues to grow and I have to stretch my arms upward to grab the lip, and then I swing myself up onto it before leaping again as the stone bridge connecting them passes beneath me.

Without a second to spare, I start running toward the origin of the magically growing walkway: a large stone wall that appears to have grown out of the earth. Atop it, directly to the side of the bridge is a gruff-looking armadillo. I recognized him... Elias Hewen, a Geomancer.

My attention is pulled closer by some commotion on the narrow bridge a short distance ahead of me; two young women have come to a stop. One of them, a short-furred terrier of some kind falls to her knees. She looks wounded... blood dripping from her sleeve. The other, a dark-skinned human is trying to get her back to her feet. A surreal, hyper-sensitive danger sense has kept me alive for a long time, and I always heed it. Coming to a stop, I watch as the dog rises back up and bites her friend on the neck. What in the name of Tah'Aveen?!?

The human woman falls to the side, going right off the bridge and into the mass of undead below. The dog girl, though, turns toward me. Though the bridge isn't nearly wide enough for fighting I have no choice but to make the most of it. Several people scream out from beyond the dog Corpse coming at me, but I don't have time to pay attention to them. Although my hatchet is a part of who I am, it is a weapon that takes a good stance and some room to swing... at the moment, I have neither. Although my hatchet is a part of who I am, fighting hand-to-hand with it on the narrow bridge is a recipe for disaster. Although my hatchet is a part of who I am, at this moment, it serves its purpose much more effectively when separated. Pulling my arm back, I hurl my weapon forward right at the Corpse.

The Corpse stumbles backwards, losing its balance as one foot slips on the edge of the bride... and now's my chance. Racing toward it, I plant both feet on the stone two strides from it, and launch myself into the air. While most people find flips difficult, I grew up with a need for mobility. My fingers wrap around the handle of the hatchet and I can't help but feel a moment of appreciation as I am made whole once again by its presence. The appreciation grows when the hatchet is pulled loose from the Corpse by my forward motion. When I land, it's only a matter of delivering a swift back-kick to knock the dog Corpse off the bridge and down into its fellow undead below.

"She was alive!" I can finally hear the commotion at the end of the bridge, "She was alive! She couldn't become a Corpse if she was alive!" an older dog is arguing with the caravan's Priestess, Kayte Delier. The dog woman looks a lot like the Corpse that had been blocking my way... a mother maybe? The priestess isn't doing a good job of calming her but, then again, I don't blame her... I'm a little freaked out myself.

"Jules Quickblade?" my attention is called from the discussion by the unmistakable baritone of Lord Raes.

"Still alive." I confirm.

"Are you injured?" he asks, moving over to me. For a moment I can't help but question the tone in his voice. Glancing back at the blood on the bridge where I had encountered the girl-made-Corpse, I can't help but wonder-- "The injured become like them." Lord Raes confirms my suspicions.

"No." I lie. I'm a convincing liar.

"Good." he nods, "Help everyone who gets here... we have to get moving before Mr. Hewen collapses."

"And everyone still with the wagons?" I question.

"We'll get as many as we can." I can tell that speaking the plan bothers him; Lord Raes grew up inside a city so battlefield triage is probably a new concept to him... but at least he learns fast. I realize I'm flexing my arm, and stop it; I don't think he noticed. "Go on." he orders, confirming that he has no suspicion.

I make my way further into the raised section of land, passing by a cat looking over a prone kangaroo. I recognized the cat... he hung around the priestess and spent a lot of time riding atop her carriage. Despite recognizing him though, I didn't know his name... not that it really matters. The kangaroo, however, I know all too well. Elesin DeQuelz, one of Bannihar's chief battle mages... and quite a 'manizer'. I've had plenty of experience seeing womanizers, but Elesin is KNOWN among the guards for doing her part to even things out. I never fought beside her which, according to the rumors among the guards, means I'm lucky. Looking around at all of the carnage and the desperation among the very-few caravan survivors I can't help but wonder if I've used up all my luck.

"CORPSE!" I clearly hear a powerful screech from just above the nearby treetops and watch as a gryphon swoops in low overhead. I look toward the direction he flies and I'm struck dumb when I see Priestess Delier struggling with the same older dog woman she'd just been talking to. The dog is snapping and gnashing at her, held back by the Priestess' flexed arms. My hatchet is in my paw immediately, but not before an enormous stone axe comes to bear, cleanly lopping off the Corpse's head. For a moment, I can't help but imagine that it's mine.

"Gather up all the survivors." Raes says to the axe bearer, a large, broad-shouldered, chunky badger, "We need to inspect everyone for wounds."

"Leave them to their fate and come back to me." Dresna had said. It was good advice... damn good advice. I don't bother gathering up anything; I already have my hatchet.

I don't blame Lord Raes for what he has to do... it makes perfect sense after all. Lord Raes is going to gather up everyone who may become a Corpse and lay them to rest before their souls are eternally damned by the dark energies that animate the undead. Common sense says to put down the threat before it becomes one; if being bitten means you become a Corpse you may as well be dead already. Well... that works fine for everyone else, but I'm not about to share that same fate. I promised Dresna I'd be back, and I keep my promises.

What was that? I know I heard something. It sounded like a voice, but it wasn't a voice I recognized. What was it saying? There it is again. "Hello?" I call. My hatchet is a part of who I am and, at the moment, it's the part of me that my paw has a white-knuckle grip on. I KNOW I heard a voice and it was saying something... but not in a language I know. It sounded like chanting... and that chant sounds familiar... too familiar.

Light... green light. It's not real... no... after I blink it disappears... but when I blink again it comes back. It's spectral light of some kind... are the woods playing tricks on me? The caravan is behind me but I can still barely hear the sounds of the survivors taking head counts... they're not going to count me... if they do they'll find out where that damn cat's teeth went through my armor... fucking sloppy, Jules... fucking sloppy.

"Hello?" I call. The voices are louder, but not clearer. Goddess... I can hear them chanting so strongly in my head but there's nobody here. Why isn't that chant clearer? "Goddess..." I breathe. I know what that chant is.

I come to a stop, basking in the green light that isn't really there. I stand in the small wooded clearing, opening myself to the chant that going on in my head. The Elven Curse is not specific... it is complete and whole and affects the entirety of the Wild Lands. The curse also changes... in little ways over time but, given long enough those changes can add up. "It's changed again." I tell nobody in particular.

The green light comes and goes... I blink and it's here; I blink and it's gone. It's strong then it's weak, then it's blinding, then it's faint. Sometimes I can see my shadow in front of me and sometimes it stretches out behind me. I've been in places where the Elven Curse has been strong... for Tah'Aveen's sake, I've even been at the edge of a Torment, and it feels just like-- no... this feels different... Goddess... this feels different. This ISN'T the Elven Curse... what IS this?

It's dizzying... the world is spinning around me. I can feel my breath coming out faster and little shades and shadows keep fluttering around me in the woods. They're in my head... I know they are. Even when the paws grip my arms I can tell they're not real... it's all in my head... it has to be. I can see a little bunny girl clear in my mind... she's young and pretty... she doesn't smile though... she should smile. She misses her mother. Her mother is very close... why should she miss her? Her father misses her mother too, and he feels responsible. I don't know what this means... why does it make so much sense?

Why am I moving? These paws holding me up... they're just figments of my imagination... I'm not actually going somewhere... am I? They're bringing me back toward the caravan... no... they can't be. I wasn't followed... nobody knows where I am. I'm still in the meadow and I'm just having hallucinations. I'll just rest here a little while... and then I'll make my way back to Bannihar... back to Dresna. It's funny to think that I need to go back to my cage in order to be set free, but once I'm with Dresna again we'll be together... and when we're together, my time as a lackey of the temple will be over.

No... I'm definitely moving... I can't be imagining this... this isn't a hallucination. I have to get them to stop. I don't want to go back. *moan* Was that me? Talk, damn you, Jules, talk! *moan* Are they looking at me? They have to leave me alone... I can't go back to the caravan... they'll find my wounds. No! I can barely seem to control myself, but somehow I can still control my hatchet. My hatchet is part of who I am, and as long as I'm Jules Quickblade nobody's going to control me anymore... I'm done with that.

The sound of my hatchet falling onto the ground is my wake-up call. The paws are on my arms again and I'm moving in the direction I don't want to go. Things are still blurry, except for my fate, which is becoming clearer and clearer by the second. I'm sorry, Dras... I want to come back to you, but I can't deny it anymore... you're not going to want to be anywhere near me soon... no... it's better this way.

Wait... that girl... she's from my hallucination... but she's real. What's she doing here? Why is she with these people? Is that the Priestess? Is that Lord Raes? Everyone's here... I just can't see them clearly... just her... just that girl. Why can I see you so clearly, little girl? Goddess, my arm hurts!

Wait! You! Oh Goddess... that's what this is about... this curse... it's not from the elves... it's from this town's priests. How could they have-- oh Goddess! They had no idea what they've done... you fucking priests...

I've lost my hatchet... and... it's part of who I am... but I suppose that doesn't matter anymore... in a few moments there won't be any part of me left... oh Goddess... I'm sorry Dras... I'm so sorry...

* * * * *

It's been two weeks, but here it is: the first part of Banihar's Milestone!

Remember: readers have until midnight on September 30th to place their vote(s) to save their favorite character(s). Go here for details:

http://www.sofurry.com/page/288668/

Since so much survival in the Wild Lands is about perception, I suppose I will mention here that the narrator of this post, Jules Quickblade is an optional character that may be added to the Banniharian Caravan! What will it take? Every Contributing Reader in this chapter will have to vote:

1) Spend 1 Luck and add Jules Quickblade to the party! 2) Earn +1 Luck and let Jules Quickblade die! 3) Let Jules Quickblade die and save instead.

Here's the clencher: votes must be unanimous. Talk amongst yourselves if you wish-- you may not change your vote after voting.

That's all there is to it! Now sit tight; the Milestone concludes next week!