Rhiallis: Fallen

      Today’s snippet, titled “Fallen”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there may be mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Rhiallis hung back, still astride her new mount – an enchanted beast of burden Aimsley had conjured. It was a queer sensation, riding a horse she had never met before, particularly one that was so amiable and well-trained, yet somehow still alien and… other. She imagined that it had been plucked from a pristine, green world with no natural predators and a life of gentle ease. What a difference it must find here in the ‘Wound, yet it obeyed placidly and went where she guided without balking or hesitation. She was impressed, but she missed Emerald.
      Six strangers approached along an adjoining ridge; they were the first the Valorous Order had encountered inside the ‘Wound. Somehow, the fact that there were folk out here – on purpose – both intrigued and worried her. That they were travelling in the dark of night, for the hour was perhaps one or two past midnight, gave her pause.
      Celeste moved forward. She seemed to be focusing, her holy symbol aloft. Rhiallis’ wings fluttered against her back, anxious.
      There were six of them, plus a pair of mules pulling a cart laden with supplies. Her eyes, preternaturally sharp in the darkness, made out details about each as the tension grew in her friends. There was a dwarf in leathers, a scout or tracker type, whose beard was red as blood. A human man in heavy armor, who bore a hammer and a shield. A slender, beautiful half-elf woman with a violin in one hand and bow in the other – why would she be playing that out here? Horrible things are attracted to sound. Crouched in the wagon, there was a male elf with a longbow in hand. He notched an arrow, but the sinewy muscles of his arms were still relaxed. Two females in dresses, one an elf and the other human, completed the group.
      No one had called out, yet as Rhiallis watched on, they were still moving closer. She chewed the inside of her lips.
      Celeste moved to slide from her saddle with practiced ease and somehow, her foot caught in the stirrup. Her ankle twisting brutally, she fell to the dirt with a grunt.
      “Have a nice trip,” the dwarf snorted.
      One of the ladies began to snigger and Rhiallis was ashamed of herself for having to struggle to keep a straight face. It was so undignified, she was certain Celeste was miserable. The thought that perhaps Sadie – or even Mira – had decided to play a prank on the paladin crossed her mind briefly. But no, she decided, watching her friends begin to move forward warily, they wouldn’t… it is too dangerous.
      “Hail, friends,” Celeste’s voice boomed across the distance. “Who goes there?”
      “Who goes there?” One of the strangers retorted. “Identify yourselves.”
      “We asked first,” Korael muttered, fingering her bowstring. The elf was uneasy and spoiling for a fight. Beside her, Aimsley nodded. Rhiallis urged her mount forward a step or two more, loosening Radiance in its sheath.
      “This is BULLSHIT!” The sing-songy shout came from the woman nearest the wagon.
      “Hey – don’t you dare. Don’t fuck me on this.” That one, the hooded woman, must be the leader, Rhiallis thought.
      “Blaaaah blahbitty blah,” spat the elven mage.
      The parlay ended mere seconds later when the mage cast Haste and her friends flew into aggressive positions. Friend might be overstating their relationship, she thought, drawing Radiance at last. They don’t seem to like or trust her either.
      It was no wonder, the taint of evil was strong on her. As soon as she confirmed that the elven mage was an enemy of the Light, Rhiallis surged into the air. Her new wings felt powerful as they lifted her from the horse’s back. She shot toward the evil bitch who had flown straight up into the air.
      “You’re mine,” Rhiallis heard herself growl.
      “Fu-” she began, turning her gaze to Rhiallis. It was too late. Those eyes widened in surprise and horror as she realized that her end was nigh. Crying out for Iomedae’s blessing to cleanse the wickedness, Rhiallis swung Radiance with all her might.
      A spray of crimson sprouted from the woman’s neck. Her head was spinning through the night, her hair billowing around it rather majestically. It landed with a disgusting splat, those wicked elven eyes still staring up at her, shocked.
      “Hah haaaah!” Sadie cackled, yanking her blade free. The bard’s violin dropped to the dirt, her nerveless fingers trembling. Scarlet dribbled from a series of wounds, so precisely struck, that they killed her before she even knew she had been hit.       There was hardly any blood at all.
      “Save him, he is without taint!”
      Still hanging in the air above the fight, Rhiallis changed her focus.
      Celeste was fighting the hammerman’s mistress, the hooded woman who radiated distinctively evil to both paladins. Her bodyguard, however, was merely charmed or bespelled, and lacked the same malicious nature.
      Sadie materialized past Celeste, helping her battle the strange woman whose body seemed to be writhing beneath her robes.
      “Oh.”
      Celeste’s grunt was so innocuous. It was as if the blow had hardly landed. Yet blood dribbled from her split lip and she looked as if she might vomit when a thousand thousand locusts spilled forth from Mistress’ sleeve, pouring over her body.
      “Fuck this, I’m outta here!” The dwarf threw himself out of the melee and hurtled away, into the darkness.
      “Redbeard, you pussy! Get back here!”
      His cry reminded the Valorous Order of his presence and within the span of ten heartbeats, Korael had filled the elf’s heavily muscled torso with arrows.
      “Bitch!” Celeste cursed through grit teeth as Mistress and her bodyguard laid their wrath upon her. She was teeming with locusts; angry, flesh-eating bugs that seemed to be a living cocoon around her. Still, she fought on. She lay a hand upon her chest, pausing her offensive moves just long enough to heal her wounds.
      Rhiallis closed her eyes and called forth Iomedae’s blessed light. A burst of energy emanated from her spot once, twice, three times. Many of the wounds Celeste had taken began to close, but the locusts were unaffected and they kept chewing at her.
Eating her.
      The valiant paladin lashed out with Snowblood, dislodging one of the Mistress’ arms. She looked triumphant and for an instant, Rhiallis’ pride surged. Her friend was perhaps not as flamboyant as Graves, but she was a hero worthy of song, worthy of legend. She would stand victorious this day, and the hammerman would be redeemed.
      Then she fell. Her knees could no longer support the weight of her armor, her body sickly and drawn.
      It was only then Rhiallis realized that no mere burst of healing light could repair the damage the locusts had done.
      Celeste’s cheeks were sunken, her eyes huge and dark in their sockets.
      She groaned, unable to fight off the encroaching sickness.
      “I-” she began. “…tried.”
      “CELESTE!” Aimsley cried. “No!”
      Cole drove his blades through the hammerman’s spine, severing it with a feral growl. Rhiallis’ eyes were filling with tears – sorrow for Celeste and rage at Cole, for killing the man. Celeste wanted him alive damn it! Her thoughts were hers alone, now was not a time for recriminations.
      “Take that!” Mira cried, leveling her wand at Mistress.
      “EEeeeeEEEee!” the locust lady shrieked and fled into the nightsky, transformed into a cloud of locusts.
      “Damn it,” Mira cursed. She lobbed a fireball at the corpse that had been their friend. The flames charred the locusts that covered her body, but it was too late to save her. Like Mytra, like Graves, the very constitution of her body had been drained away to nothing. It would take a miracle, a true resurrection, to bring Celeste back to the mortal coil.
      “She fought like a demon, right to the end,” Cole said with grudging respect. “Like a true warrior.”
      “Her heart was a valiant heart.”
      The Valorous Order gathered around their fallen comrade.
      Once there were three of us, Rhiallis thought wiping a tear from her cheek. It is unthinkable that I – the least worthy – am all that remains. Mighty Graves, Brave Celeste. How is it you have fallen and I still stand? She straightened her shoulders, denying herself more than that one moment of sorrow and self-pity. I will be all that I can, to honor your sacrifices. In your stead, I shall call Iomedae’s fire and glory onto this battlefield and with your spirits behind me, I will fight until my last breath to close the ‘Wound and restore this land to the people. I will do all I can, since you cannot.
      “Maybe we can bring her back,” Korael said softly. “Her and Graves, and Mytra. And Niro, and even Kumiko and Jensen. And-”
      Aimsley touched her shoulder and gave the tiniest shake of her head.
There was silence for a long moment, the Valorous Order standing short vigil for the       honorable Celeste . There was a prayer, whispered against the harsh nighttime winds of the Worldwound, and if there were tears on any cheeks, they were dry before they even had time to glimmer in the eerie light of the bloody moon.
      Unceremoniously, Celeste and her gear were trundled into her enchanted bag for safe keeping and the Valorous Order of the Golden Sword, its light dimmer now, set out into the darkness, hunting the ones who fled.
      In Her name, they would be sought, they would be found, and Gods be willing, they would pay.
      Rhiallis was sick of losing friends and Radiance ached in her hands. Both of them were ready for vengeance.

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Signed, Josie
Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me

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