Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Purifying Hand of Flame ❯ Chapter 3
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Magical Savior 
Miscellaneous: Role Playing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.14.2007 | Updated On: 01.18.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.1K | Visits: 186 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Role Playing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Fantasy / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 01.14.2007 | Updated On: 01.18.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.1K | Visits: 186 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimer. This story was created in the setting of White-Wolf's Exalted. Characters created by White-Wolf and not myself will be credited in notes. Reference to White-Wolf canonical storyline and published work will probably not be bothered with; it's part of the setting, which I admit to stealing whole cloth. I, Magical Savior, do not own this series and am not affiliated with White-Wolf in any way. Moving on.
*** Chapter 3
I chose a wrong path. It wasn't obvious at first, but I was going farther and deeper into this... mess of bladegrass and bugs. Not too bright on my part, but there's not much to do when there's no choice to make.
Got a few more cuts, some on my legs, some on my arms as I had to push through old bladegrass. It was taller here, too tall. At least the travois slipped easily on the waxen, flat weeds.
Still, I was wasting time. Too much time.
The ground stopped being firm and sandy. It was turning marshy and mushy. My boots started to sink in as I walked. A river was nearby, and it met the ocean in a low place.
My personal favorite place to be. With bugs. Bugs were biting me with ferocity, but I didn't slap at them. That might tilt the sledge.
Whatever I was going through, it was worth another person's life. That's what I was saving. Even if I could hear echoes of a voice telling me that I was a destroyer. Even if I'd been called a demon, I was meant to do good.
That thought made the bites sting less and the rucksack on my back at least ten pounds lighter. I'd gotten through a desert on pure motivation where nothing lived. Or maybe it was dropping my tent and a change of clothes that made my pack lighter. Either way.
Still, the trail was turning to mush under the hard shells of bladegrass. It was hard to walk on. I couldn't see a blasted thing, and there was starting to be a swampy stink. The insects were loud. Annoyed me to no end.
Whatever trail I had been on, I was off it now. I was breaking brush, using my sword every so often to roughly cut some damn weeds, or push aside other pointy sticks trying to put out my eyes. Wasted too much time to backtrack now.
I kept pushing on, dragging the travois behind me. Finally, I felt I had no choice, and I stopped. Laying the travois down gently, I checked my patient.
There was no light to see by. The air was too wet and foul, here. I touched some of the bandages on her arms and legs for the sticky feel of blood, to see if they were bleeding through, but I couldn't tell the difference between skin and cloth anymore.
Hesitant about making light again, I checked pulse and breathing instead. The pulse was regular, and stronger than before. Breathing was almost normal, but still too fast. I'd done that much, at least.
I picked up the travois and started walking again. Tried to think of when I last ate... Hunger was starting to pick at my innards. It had been late afternoon. I should have stopped to eat at sunset, I thought. When I first heard cicadas drone.
Took me a moment to realize that this person I was dragging through what was quickly becoming muck would have died. A person's life was worth a missed meal. The plants and vegetation were changing, becoming sedge and reed.
Mud sucked at my boots. Everything was so black, now... I looked up, and realized that the blackness seemed closer. There were trees, tall ones. They blocked out the velvet, empty sky. Searching around me, I thought I could see a tiny light in the distance. It must be fire.
There were no fireflies here, to lead me astray. It was actually rather odd - how could there not be?
I'd been walking for too long. The travois was getting heavier and harder to drag. I thought it was because I was getting tired, but that wasn't the only reason.
It was gathering mud up under it, dragging it along. Disgusting.
The bugs droned on. There were bugs I hadn't heard before, things that made a rapid series of clicks. Pause. Cl-cl-cl-click... Pause. Cl-cl-cl-click...
The brush rustled and moved as though perhaps small birds were taking flight. There was a brief moment of silence from the insects. Then, the click-bugs started back in.
Daylight was still hours away. Who knew, might even get decent sleep before the sunrise. The sedge kept me away from the trees, and there was a clear enough path I'd been following. My feet knew it even if my eyes didn't.
Suddenly, I took one step too many in this wrong direction. My left foot hit sludge and scum, and sank until it nearly covered my boot. I recoiled back, nearly falling over the travois. Not good. I tried to just take a step back, but the travois handles had stuck firmly into the mud.
I lifted up my foot and tried to keep it out of the muck. It was heavy and covered with crud, and an absolutely disgusting stench came out of whatever I stepped in. Still, a knot that was forming in the back of my neck went away. Maybe it was that I had something to deal with. Couldn't hear crickets anymore, but I guessed they didn't like this swamp, either.
Cl-cl-cl-clickkkk... I could hear a bunch of the loud bugs in front of me. Sedge rustled again, on my right. Then there was a loud crack nearby, like branches breakingand falling with wind. But the air was cloyingly still.
Pathetic. My foot was almost pulled to the ground with the weight of the crud on it. I couldn't even see the vaguest shine of water, so I couldn't know how much of it was around me.
Suddenly, my boot WAS pulled down to the ground. Almost, I fell over, tripped by something. I could feel a solid grip on my boot. It was probably some vine, on a branch. Tugged when it fell down. I drew my dagger to cut it loose.
*** Chapter 3
I chose a wrong path. It wasn't obvious at first, but I was going farther and deeper into this... mess of bladegrass and bugs. Not too bright on my part, but there's not much to do when there's no choice to make.
Got a few more cuts, some on my legs, some on my arms as I had to push through old bladegrass. It was taller here, too tall. At least the travois slipped easily on the waxen, flat weeds.
Still, I was wasting time. Too much time.
The ground stopped being firm and sandy. It was turning marshy and mushy. My boots started to sink in as I walked. A river was nearby, and it met the ocean in a low place.
My personal favorite place to be. With bugs. Bugs were biting me with ferocity, but I didn't slap at them. That might tilt the sledge.
Whatever I was going through, it was worth another person's life. That's what I was saving. Even if I could hear echoes of a voice telling me that I was a destroyer. Even if I'd been called a demon, I was meant to do good.
That thought made the bites sting less and the rucksack on my back at least ten pounds lighter. I'd gotten through a desert on pure motivation where nothing lived. Or maybe it was dropping my tent and a change of clothes that made my pack lighter. Either way.
Still, the trail was turning to mush under the hard shells of bladegrass. It was hard to walk on. I couldn't see a blasted thing, and there was starting to be a swampy stink. The insects were loud. Annoyed me to no end.
Whatever trail I had been on, I was off it now. I was breaking brush, using my sword every so often to roughly cut some damn weeds, or push aside other pointy sticks trying to put out my eyes. Wasted too much time to backtrack now.
I kept pushing on, dragging the travois behind me. Finally, I felt I had no choice, and I stopped. Laying the travois down gently, I checked my patient.
There was no light to see by. The air was too wet and foul, here. I touched some of the bandages on her arms and legs for the sticky feel of blood, to see if they were bleeding through, but I couldn't tell the difference between skin and cloth anymore.
Hesitant about making light again, I checked pulse and breathing instead. The pulse was regular, and stronger than before. Breathing was almost normal, but still too fast. I'd done that much, at least.
I picked up the travois and started walking again. Tried to think of when I last ate... Hunger was starting to pick at my innards. It had been late afternoon. I should have stopped to eat at sunset, I thought. When I first heard cicadas drone.
Took me a moment to realize that this person I was dragging through what was quickly becoming muck would have died. A person's life was worth a missed meal. The plants and vegetation were changing, becoming sedge and reed.
Mud sucked at my boots. Everything was so black, now... I looked up, and realized that the blackness seemed closer. There were trees, tall ones. They blocked out the velvet, empty sky. Searching around me, I thought I could see a tiny light in the distance. It must be fire.
There were no fireflies here, to lead me astray. It was actually rather odd - how could there not be?
I'd been walking for too long. The travois was getting heavier and harder to drag. I thought it was because I was getting tired, but that wasn't the only reason.
It was gathering mud up under it, dragging it along. Disgusting.
The bugs droned on. There were bugs I hadn't heard before, things that made a rapid series of clicks. Pause. Cl-cl-cl-click... Pause. Cl-cl-cl-click...
The brush rustled and moved as though perhaps small birds were taking flight. There was a brief moment of silence from the insects. Then, the click-bugs started back in.
Daylight was still hours away. Who knew, might even get decent sleep before the sunrise. The sedge kept me away from the trees, and there was a clear enough path I'd been following. My feet knew it even if my eyes didn't.
Suddenly, I took one step too many in this wrong direction. My left foot hit sludge and scum, and sank until it nearly covered my boot. I recoiled back, nearly falling over the travois. Not good. I tried to just take a step back, but the travois handles had stuck firmly into the mud.
I lifted up my foot and tried to keep it out of the muck. It was heavy and covered with crud, and an absolutely disgusting stench came out of whatever I stepped in. Still, a knot that was forming in the back of my neck went away. Maybe it was that I had something to deal with. Couldn't hear crickets anymore, but I guessed they didn't like this swamp, either.
Cl-cl-cl-clickkkk... I could hear a bunch of the loud bugs in front of me. Sedge rustled again, on my right. Then there was a loud crack nearby, like branches breakingand falling with wind. But the air was cloyingly still.
Pathetic. My foot was almost pulled to the ground with the weight of the crud on it. I couldn't even see the vaguest shine of water, so I couldn't know how much of it was around me.
Suddenly, my boot WAS pulled down to the ground. Almost, I fell over, tripped by something. I could feel a solid grip on my boot. It was probably some vine, on a branch. Tugged when it fell down. I drew my dagger to cut it loose.