Heroscape: The Equestrian Siege

Ever so slowly, the downed World War II soldier could hear the sounds of the forest become more and more clear.  It was strange hearing such peaceful sounds after having just been surrounded by the cries of the wounded and dying, as well as other sounds of battle.  Groaning, the soldier rubbed his face, helping to get the blood flowing before opening his eyes.

He was lying back first on the ground.  Above him was a dense canopy of dark green foliage, so thick that only a few specks of light made it to his vision.  The soldier sat up and looked around.  Everything around him was similar; dark, dreary, and discomforting.  At least, almost everything.

Sitting nearby him was a somewhat familiar figure.  The figure was humanoid, sitting cross-legged on the ground, his baggy chain mail leggings resting around him.  The figure had his golden helmet removed, and his long, blonde hair draped over his green cape and padded shoulders.  Resting across the figure's lap was a green longbow, and the figure was currently running a knife over the tip of an arrow.

Upon the soldier's stirring, the figure looked up to him.  “Ah, you're awake,” he observed.

“Yeah,” the soldier groggily replied.  He returned his gaze to his surroundings.  “Where are we?” he added after a few seconds.

“I know not,” the other one replied.  “I do believe, though, that we should at least know each others' names, don't you?”

“I guess,” replied the soldier.  “I'm Sergeant Drake Alexander, but Drake suits me just fine.”

The figure smiled.  “It is wonderful to meet you, Drake.  I'm known as Syvarris; perhaps you've heard of me?”

“Uh, vaguely,” Drake replied.  “All I've heard of you is that you're an elf and that you're a skilled archer.”

Syvarris' grin widened.  “Yes, that's what I'm known for.  You're pretty well known yourself.  With that illusion magic of yours, you're known as quite the bane of the Marro Warriors' existence.”

“Uh-huh,” Drake said, brushing off the compliment.  “Speaking of which, where's my sword and grapple gun?”

Reaching behind him, Syvarris retrieved the grapple gun that had been resting there.  “I've been holding this for until you wake,” he said.  “Your sword is still on your back; you've been too distracted to notice it.”

The two of them stood, and Syvarris gave Drake his grapple gun before replacing his helmet.  “I've done a little scouting of the area while you were out,” Syvarris told Drake.  “I haven't found much of anything as far as resources for survival goes.  Hopefully we can run into an oasis or a civilization, else we've got problems.”

Drake agreed.  “Do you have a lead of any kind?”

“Not yet.  I was going to climb one of these trees and try to get an aerial view, but I didn't want to leave you alone for too long.  These woods unsettle me; they are very reminiscent of the Neverfree forest from my home world.”

Again, Drake agreed.  “Right.  Well, I'm awake now, so go ahead and do that.”

With that, Syvarris made for a nearby tall tree.  He nimbly leapt from branch to branch, breaking the top of the canopy in no time.  Beneath him, Drake tried to climb so as to keep the elf in his sight.

Syvarris looked around him.  Gloomy trees stretched for what looked like miles in all directions, and the only other thing of note besides that was the large mountain to their relative North West.  “See anything?” Drake called from under him.  Instead of replying immediately, the elf took his time to scrutinize everything he could see, looking for something.  And it wasn't until he looked up the mountain that that something was found.

“Well?” Drake repeated, appearing next to Syvarris, having finally scaled the tree.

“Do you see anything on the mountainside?” Syvarris asked.  Drake looked to the mountain, squinting to help him find something of interest on it.

“Aside from that small white patch, no,” Drake said, having failed to see anything else.

“Your species was not given the brightest of eyes, it seems,” Syvarris said apologetically.  “No, that white spot you saw appears to be some sort of fortress or castle.”

“Seriously?  That's quite lucky of us.”

“Indeed.  I can't make out anything aside from a few spires, but that itself is evidence enough that, if we're wanting to find civilization, that is the direction to begin traveling,” said Syvarris.

“Good.  Then let's head there,” Drake said, dropping to the ground.  Syvarris followed suit, landing wile making almost no sound at all.  Freaky elf-magic.

“If this forest is anything like I believe it to be,” Syvarris started, drawing his bow, “then we best have our defenses at the ready.”  Drake nodded.  He allowed his grapple gun to hang on its strap from his shoulder as he drew his sword.  Drake and Syvarris each took a step towards the mountain, then halted as their weapons began glowing silver and green respectively.  Surprised, the two of them dropped their weapons.  Instead of falling to the ground, however, the weapons hovered in place.  The weapons righted themselves vertically, and a ghostly image of their respective Valkyrie's formed around the weapons.

“Drake,” the image of Jandar said.

“And Syvarris,” Ullar's image continued.  “We've not much time, so please heed our message with care.”

Jandar resumed speaking.  “Valhalla has been destroyed.  Utgar's might was too great, and thus, it was better to see Valhalla destroyed with Utgar than see Utgar rule Valhalla.  The white sphere that everyone witnessed was the result of the combined might of Vydar, Ullar, Utgar, and myself.  It was a culmination of our most destructive magics, and it is that which has ended Valhalla.”

“All was not lost, however,” Ullar picked up.  “In the seconds before Valhalla's doom, the three of us, Jandar, Vydar, and myself, were able to rescue some of our soldiers.  I'm sorry to say, Syvarris, but you were the only one I could save.”

“I know not who Vydar had chosen,” Jandar said.  “Drake, you are among two that I managed to rescue.”

“Who is the-”  Before Drake could finish his question, Jandar's image vanished.

“I'm sorry, Drake,” Ullar said.  “Drawing two soldiers to safety must have drained him intensely.  Jandar has now passed, and soon I will too.  We know not where you are, and for that Jandar and I are sorry.  But you two are strong, and this place will not be the end of you.  Go now, with our blessing.”

His message concluded, Ullar's image also faded.  The two weapons finally dropped to the soft earth, and their owners quickly reclaimed them.  “That news was...unexpected,” Drake stated.

“Indeed.  But what's done is done, and we should not dwell on it.  Instead, we should stay in the present and look to the future.  At the present, we should ensure that we have a future.”

“That was a fancy way of saying 'get moving', right?”

“Yes, soldier,” Syvarris replied, a little dejectedly.  “Now, let's 'get moving', shall we?”

The two of them had been walking for some time now.  Every once in a while, they would stop so that Syvarris could check that they were moving the right direction, but other than that, they walked without pause.  The forest remained diligently thick and riddled with obstacles.  The vines, roots, and branches make the traveling slow going, and doing so eventually wore on Drake's stamina.

“Hey Syvarris,” he said to the leading elf.  “If you find a small clearing of some time, I need to rest.”

Syvarris didn't respond verbally, but gave his acknowledgment with an exaggerated nod.  Before long, they stumbled upon a break in the trees, large enough for four or so people to camp comfortably.  Drake immediately sat under a tree, uncapping his canteen that had mercifully had its contents preserved from the battle and taking many large gulps from it.  Thirst quenched, he returned his canteen to his belt and waited for Syvarris.

The elf came and set next to him after a minute, holding a handful of odd looking berries.  “Uh, Syvarris?  Where'd you get those?”

Syvarris pointed to a bush in the clearing.  “That shrub bore these berries.  I had seen several such bushes while we were walking, but, pressed for time, I decided to hold off on collecting some until a rest was needed.”

“I see,” Drake said, his attention focused on the berries in the elf's hand.  “Aren't you going to share them?” he asked, stomach trembling slightly to further provide the hint.

“If they're safe to eat, then yes,” Syvarris said, popping one of the berries into his mouth.  He chewed on the berry a couple of times, slowly forming a frown of disgust.  Thoroughly disgusted, he spat out the berry, rinsed his mouth with water from his own waterskin, and spat that out as well.  “Very vile flavor; likely poisonous,” he concluded.  “Still, if anything eats these, we could collect some to use as bait.”

“No, it's fine,” Drake said.  “I've got a couple days worth of rations.  It's not very flattering, but it'll help you live.”  The soldier shoved one of the small packages at Syvarris.

“I hunger not, my friend.  Elves can sustain themselves without food much longer than humans can.”

“Suit yourself,” Drake said, tearing open the ration to begin eating.  He hungrily scarfed down the first half of his ration before resuming conversation.  “So-”  He swallowed.  “-what exactly are elves better at than humans?”

“Do you really want to hear the list?” replied Syvarris.  Drake eagerly nodded while taking another bite of his ration.  “Very well.  Elves are much more physically capable than humans; move faster and for much longer, very strong despite our lanky appearance, that sort of stuff.  Elves have more finely tuned senses, thus elves make excellent archers.  We are also much more skilled with crafts such as wood and metal working.  And some elves have learned to use magic.”

Drake gave the elf a blank stare.  “Are humans really that pathetic?” he finally asked.

“I'm sorry to say that, yes, humans are one of the most inferior species to have been introduced to Valhalla.  Sadly, you're hardly a step above orcs and goblins, and that's because of your civility, not your prowess in combat,” Syvarris replied.  “That doesn't mean that there aren't outliers, though.  A human like you would easily best an elf like me, seeing as you've got that sword.”

“Sure,” he said gloomily.  Drake looked down into his empty ration wrapper.  “Looks like I'm ready to go.”  He stood, tossing the litter on the ground and turning to leave.

“And you're just going to leave your trash on the ground right there?” Syvarris scolded.

Drake looked about.  “I don't see a waste basket anywhere, so where else am I to put it.”

“Ugh,” Syvarris sighed, standing and pulling a match out of the pack at his waist.  “The future where you're from must be such a miserable place to be; what, with people not knowing how to properly dispose of their garbage.  You quite simply burn the small pieces like that,” he said, igniting the match and lighting the paper on fire.  The fire consumed the paper within a few seconds, and the soft breeze scattered the ashes throughout the clearing.  The elf watched his match until the fire died out on its own before dropping it to the ground.

“Hypocrite,” Drake panned.  “Telling me not to drop my trash, then you go ahead and drop yours.”

Syvarris chuckled, responding with, “Ah, you see?  The match was made of wood.  A chemical is placed on the end to allow it to burn.  Once you let the fire burn all of the chemical off, you're left with a burnt stick, which belongs on the ground.”

“Uh-huh,” said the unamused Drake.  “Well, let's get out of here.  I don't want to be in the forest once it gets dark, and we've stalled enough already.”

“I agree; let's be off.”

A couple of hours passed since they had taken their most recent break, and still they trudged through the unforgiving forest.  The trees were relentless as ever, and the newly discovered afternoon heat added to at least Drake's discomfort.  He snuck a glance at Syvarris, who appeared to by completely unfatigued; he hadn't even begun to sweat.

But that's not to say that the elf didn't look worn.  His armor was caked in dried dirt and stubborn leaves.  Mud ran down from his knees thanks to the mud pit that they had accidentally stumbled into.  The elf's cape was even torn in a few places from thorns and other sharp branches.  Because Syvarris was leading the two of them, Drake was usually able to avoid anything that Syvarris ran into, allowing his only signs of travel to be small patches of dirt sitting on his sweat soaked uniform.

A large and tall tree stood in Syvarris' path.  “I'm going to go ahead and make sure we're going the right way,” he said before beginning to scale the tree.  Too weary to follow, Drake leaned against the tree and slumped down, hoping to get a few minutes of rest in before they could continue.

This tree was significantly taller than any of the others that the two of them had seen in the forest thus far, allowing Syvarris a much better view of their surroundings once he reached the top.  He looked to the mountain first, as that was their destination.  Yes, they were on track.  Thanks to his vantage point, the elf was able to see a few things flying around the mountainside castle.  He couldn't make out any details, but he could tell that they were large, for a flying creature.  Looking down, he saw another town; more of a village, actually.  It was much closer than the castle was, and therefore likely a better place to try to get to.  He didn't see anything moving in the village, however, which disheartened him slightly.  Deciding to get Drake's opinion, he descended the tree.

A firm hand rested on Drake's shoulder, and after a violent shake, stirred him out of his sleep.  “Rest well?”

“Not nearly well enough,” Drake replied, standing and stretching his sore limbs.  “What's new?”

“We're still on the figurative road to the castle,” Syvarris answered.  “However, thanks to the height of the tree, I was able to see another village.  It's much closer, and it's on the ground.  It is my opinion that we go to this village to see what this local population is like, and hopefully to find food, shelter, and water for the night.  And a bath for you; you smell awful.”

Drake answered with no hesitation.  “Yeah, sure, let's do that.  Whatever gets us out of here the fastest.”

They were about to resume their travels when a nearby roar sounded through the forest.  “Sounded like a lion,” Drake said offhandedly.  Next to him, the elf drew his bow and cocked an arrow.

“Lions don't live in this environment.  Let's hope it's not what I think it is.”

“And what would that be?” Drake said, drawing his katana.  Whatever it was roared again, much closer this time.  Syvarris made to respond when a blur shot out from some nearby bushes.  It lunged at the two of them.  Drake jumped back with a complete lack of grace while Syvarris rolled swiftly rolled to the side.  The creature collided with the tree behind the elf and human.  Taking advantage of the impact, Syvarris released his arrow.  It traveled through the beast's leathery wing and got firmly stuck in the trunk of the tree.  The creature roared in pain.

Drake glanced at the strange creature in front of him as it struggled to get the arrow out of its wing without hurting itself.  It resembled a lion, albeit much bulkier, and with bat wings and a scorpion tail.  “A manticore,” came Syvarris' delayed response.  “They inhabited the Neverfree forest back home; they were always a kill-on-sight creature.”

“As in you killed it on sight or it killed you on sight?”

Syvarris chuckled.  “I guess it went both ways.”

The manticore roared again, braving the pain the arrow caused to return to fighting its next meal.  Its roar broke the two warriors out of their little chat, and all three prepared a fighting stance.  Syvarris could have sworn that he heard a squeak from a nearby bush, but he ignored it.

The first move was made by the manticore.  It again lunged for them, swiping with its claws before bringing down its massive stinger.  Drake was the target, him being in front of Syvarris.  He dodged the predictable and primal swipes, then brought his katana up to parry the stinger.  He was surprised to see that the impact did nothing to harm the beast.

After failing to harm its prey again, the manticore reared up, preparing to pounce on the relatively tiny human.  With its body fully exposed, Syvarris released his shot, getting the manticore directly in the shoulder.  Pained from two wounds, the monster returned all of its feet to the ground.  It stumbled upon putting weight on its wounded leg, and it opted to let that leg hang limply from its side.

Now enraged, the manticore lashed its tail at Drake again, and yet again, Drake parried.  The manticore continued to pound on Drake's blade, putting more force on each hit before finally-

Crack.

-Drake's blade pierced the tough hide, leaving a long gash on the manticore's stinger.  Howling as even more pain flooded its system, the manticore whimpered and stepped back.  The soldier stepped forward and raised his sword to deliver the killing blow.

“STOP IT!” yelled a voice from behind Syvarris.  Startled, the elf loosed his arrow, and it harmlessly hit a nearby tree.  A Yellow blur rushed past him, running into Drake and knocking him over before coming to a halt between Drake and the manticore.

Dazed and confused, Drake looked up to see a yellow horse-like thing with wings and a very long pink mane and tail blocking his way to the monster.  “I'll NOT let you hurt this poor, innocent creature any more than you already have,” it shouted directly at Drake.  It's gaze radiated pure rage like Drake had never seen before; he wouldn't be surprised if this creature's glare was comparable to Utgar's for most unnerving.

However, when the horse thing looked to the wounded and whimpering manticore, its eyes showed nothing but love, compassion, and kindness.

A hand entered Drake's view, and Drake took it, allowing his companion to help him to his feet.  “What just happened?”

“I do believe that this pegasus is protecting the manticore.  It must be a forest guardian of some kind,” Syvarris replied.

“Pegasus?”

“Yes, a pegasus.  A winged horse.  I'm surprised you've not heard of them.  They're a part of human mythology, you know,” Syvarris elaborated.

Drake stared at the pegasus in disbelief for a few seconds.  “So this...is a mythical creature...that doesn't exist...but is here...right now.”

“Oh, pegusi do exist elsewhere.  Though rare, you could find them about Feylund.  I must admit, they never looked quite like this one, but they're very similar.  I'm surprised you've not become more open-minded about such things as this, my friend.”

“Yeah, right.  So what do we do now?” asked Drake.

“I see two options for us.  We could leave, and find the village ourselves, and enter with no knowledge of what to expect, or we could stay, and hopefully get some useful information out of this pegasus,” offered Syvarris.

“I elect to leave; I don't want to see what wrath this pegasus has in store for us,” replied Drake.

“Um, excuse me.  Neither of you would happen to have anything I could use to cover the wounds, would you?  I mean, if you're willing to share, that is.”

The two warriors turned to see the yellow and pink pegasus fluttering next to them, all anger seemingly gone, as if it had no quarrels with them.  Syvarris looked at the pegasus thoughtfully while Drake gave the elf a concerned look.  “I do have healing herbs in my pouch that I don't believe I'll need, and my partner has a roll of gauze wrap that you could use.”

“Oh, thank you!” it quietly celebrated before leading the human and elf to the manticore.  As they approached, the manticore peddled back.  “Oh, don't run away,” the pegasus cooed to the manticore.  “They're going to help you feel better.  It's the least they could do.”  It finished its sentence with a nasty glare at the two warriors.

The elf pulled a small plant out of his pouch.  He removed one of the few leaves on it and began to softly chew on it.  “Hand me your wrappings, Drake,” he commanded.  The Sergeant complied handing the gauze roll to the elf.

Syvarris walked up to the manticore.  “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said as he moved in to inspect the wound on the beast's shoulder.  The pegasus had already removed the arrow, and the wound looked clean.  The manticore was lucky; the shot was close to tearing the muscle, but it instead rested in a bit of fat.  “This'll hurt slightly,” he told the manticore.  The beast closed its eyes expectantly.

Slowly, Syvarris pried open the sides of the wound until it was wide enough for him to put his finger in.  Keeping tho wound open with one hand, he withdrew the herb from his mouth.  At this point, it was no longer a leaf, but more of a paste.  He spread the paste over his finger and inserted it into the wound.  The manticore yelped in pain at the intrusion, but allowed the elf to continue.

With the interior of the wound covered with the herb paste, Syvarris pulled out his finger and wrapped the wound with Drake's gauze.  Once finished, the manticore was visibly more relaxed.  “That should heal up in about a week,” he said to the yellow pegasus.  “Would you like me to get its tail, too?”

“Oh, no,” the pegasus replied.  “Manticore tails heal naturally very quickly; he'll be fine.”

“Good.  Then we'll be on our way,” Syvarris said to the yellow pegasus.

“You're not leaving until you apologize to Mr. Manticore for hurting him,” the pegasus demanded.

Turning to the manticore, Syvarris apologized.  “You have the sincere apologies of my companion and I for the grievances we've caused you.”

The manticore straightened a little and turned to the pegasus.  “Go on home,” it said to the manticore.  “We'll have to continue later, once you're better.”  The manticore turned and left.

The three of them stood and hovered in a long and awkward silence.  After a couple of minutes, Drake broke the silence.  Clearing his throat, he said, “Syvarris, I do think we should probably get going.”

“Quite right.  Um, it was a pleasure spending time with you...” Syvarris gestured to the pegasus.

“Um, I'm...” by the time it got to saying its name, what it was saying was completely inaudible.

“You're who?” Drake asked again.

“I'm...”  Once again, the sentence faded into nothingness.

“Please, you'll have to speak up for my friend,” Syvarris said to the pegasus.

“My name is Fluttershy,” it said quickly before trying to hide behind its mane.

Drake and Syvarris said nothing for a few seconds.  “Fitting,” Drake finally said.

“Well, Miss Fluttershy, we've got somewhere to be, and we've been here too long, so we must get going,” Syvarris explained to Fluttershy.

“Where are you going?” she asked.  “If that's not too invasive, I mean.”

Drake took the initiative and answered this time.  “We don't know.  Syvarris saw this village place in the distance, and we were just about to head there.”

“Actually, it's wonderful that you've asked,” Syvarris said with a grin.  “Is there anything you could tell us about this village before we set off?”

“It wouldn't happen to be Ponyville, would it?” asked Fluttershy.

“I don't know, would it?” answered Drake.

“If Ponyville is the village in that direction,” Syvarris said, indicating the direction of the village, “then yes.”

Fluttershy took a few seconds to answer.  “I live in Ponyville, so I know about it.”  She now took the time to look over the two creatures that stood before her.  “You two look filthy,” she observed.

“Yeah, today hasn't been too good on us,” Drake replied.

“What he means to say is that we've been through a lot today.  Especially him; he needs to get some proper food in him as well as some rest,” Syvarris elaborated.

“I see,” Fluttershy said.  “Um, if you two need a place to stay the night, I've got room.”

With a light bow, Syvarris said, “That's very gracious of you.  There is nothing that we can do to compensate you for your troubles except for our knowledge, which we'll freely give should you inquire of it.”

“I've got a friend who'd be very interested in meeting you two.  Let's get you fed and cleaned up, then I'll introduce you to her,” Fluttershy suggested.

“We'd like to keep knowledge of our presence down to as few people as possible.  As long as this is maintained, what's the human term for it?  'Sounds like a plan'?  Lead the way, Miss Fluttershy.”