Fang of the Goddess

*Many years ago, near Pora Elinu*

                Blood was everywhere. It stained the black and white maid uniform Meliday wore. It was speckled across her skin. It pooled in an ever-growing puddle on the fancy stone floor of the servant’s corridor. She knelt in it, feeling its slowly dying warmth soaking into the tights beneath her skirts.

                Her head, with its crown of exquisitely black hair, was hung low, her bloodstained hands holding that of the Elin laying on the floor before her. Like that Elin, Meliday sported short bunny ears on her head, the appendages drooped with stress and sorrow as she held back her tears. The grip of the blood-soaked Elin was weak, and getting weaker by the moment, and Meliday forced herself to shift the gaze of her sinister red eyes off the bloody knife lying on the ground beside her to the soft blue orbs of her dying friend.

                “Why Mel…why…did it come to this?” Paisley’s voice murmured softly.

                For a few moments, Meliday couldn’t respond, the gravity of what she’d done, of the curve that life had just brought her, too heavy to contemplate. Around her, Elins and Popori loyal to Princess Rida ran through the open servant’s door, their boots often stepping in the growing pool of Paisley’s blood. Shouts arose from deeper within the estate as the loyalists encountered resistance from the traitorous household of Lady Faelyn, Meliday’s now former employer.

                After some soul-searching and silence, Meliday finally responded, her voice cracking, “You know why. She was betraying our kingdom. Betraying nature itself through her dealings with the cult. We talked about it, agonized over it. I thought you agreed with me. I thought you wanted to do what’s right.”

                Paisley tried to laugh, the sound a gurgle of blood in her lungs, “Look at you Mel. What are you? Who are you? You’ve the same bunny ears and tail as I do. The same.. demeanor.. Are you a predator now? Do you think you’re strong? You’ve ruined it all, and killed me. You killed me Mel. How does that fit into the Goddess’s plan?”

                For a moment, sorrow crashed over Meliday like a wave. Everything Paisley said was the truth. She wasn’t a warrior, she was a maid, a servant in a noble household. She’d risen above that to warn forces loyal to the Princess about treachery afoot in the estate, and at the last moment, Paisley, dear, sweet Paisley had stood in her way, had fought her. Would die by the mortal wound Meliday had given her. She was no fox, no wolf to be hunting in the forests, and yet there they both were, Paisley dying, and Meliday struggling to accept that her friend, no, her beloved and the only person she ever cared about, would be gone because of what she had done. There were no words to take back the moments that had led to this. Maybe if Paisley hadn’t tried to stop her from letting the loyalists in, maybe if Meliday had been able to talk her out of standing by traitors…

                No.

                Coldly, Meliday let Paisley’s hand fall from hers. She rose, standing over the dying Elin, looking at her and truly seeing her for the first time as she lay dying in her blood. Around her several of the invading loyalists paused, none of them interfering. They saw the emblem of Princess Rida pinned to Meliday’s dress, and they had been briefed on the servant that had been brave enough to stand for her kingdom. Meliday ignored them all, her gaze suddenly filled with malice the likes of which had never cross her features before. When she spoke, her voice was strong, echoing in the corridors with her conviction, “No, Pais, you ruined it all. You broke our sacred duty to protect our kingdom, to protect nature. You knew what was happening here just as much as I did, and you did nothing to stop it. I did what was right.”

                Paisley offered Meliday a bloody smile, shaking her head, “I hope… you’re happy then. With your rightness. You’re just a dumb bunny in the end, and now you’ll be alone like prey in the forest.”

                Meliday stared down at her dying beloved coldly, her voice now touched with the malice in her eyes, “That is the problem with you Pais. You couldn’t look beyond these walls, beyond what we were given and the privilege it was to work here. I’m no predator, but I’m no prey either. I am a tooth. A fang in the mouth of the Goddess. I understand now why I was made, why I exist. We each have a path to walk, but we walk it together, we are Her will and dream together. I’m no predator, but I was made to fight for her, and to take the lives of those who stand against her vision and send them back to her embrace. Goodbye Paisley. If you are born again, try not being a traitorous bitch.”

                Stunned silence filled the corridor, the Elins around Meliday glancing at one another and then at the red-eyed and angry maid who had brought down an entire traitorous noble estate. For her part, Meliday felt her heart breaking, but she shoved it away, shoved all the feelings away. She was alive, she had done what the Goddess would have wanted by removing a threat to nature, and now she would find a new way to fulfill that destiny. Without another look down, Meliday turned and stalked away from the dying Elin, her shoes trailing the blood she’d spilled, leaving it behind with her broken heart.

*Current Day, Oblivion Woods*

                Red eyes peered through a black leather mask, counting the Deva cultists of Lok gathered in the lower chamber of the cavern below her. Perched on a ledge, Meliday’s body was covered in skin-tight leather armor that blended seamlessly into the darkness. Her long black hair was tied back behind the mask over her face, a black and white bow keeping it in place.

                She counted five cultists in total, two in front of the rusty iron cage anchored in the stone floor of the cavern, and three more by the corridor leading out. Within the cage were several Federation citizens, including a wounded Elin that was the target of Meliday’s mission. Princess Rida did not like it when her nobles were captured and mistreated by disgusting cultists, and as part of the Princess’s intelligence forces, Meliday’s superiors had deployed her to express the Princess’s displeasure.

                Beneath the mask, Meliday grinned as she began to move silently in the darkness.

*********************************************************

                Federation Coordinator Natasha Venik was in despair. The cultists had kept them in a cage for two days now. Occasionally they’d come and take one of the prisoners away, presumably for some foul ritual given the fact that none of them ever returned. They’d wounded a few of the prisoners too, including an Elin that the others whispered was somewhat important. There was little they could do for her though except bind the gash in her leg, and Natasha gripped the bars of the cage in frustrated silence. Any outcry would cause the guards to come into the cage and mete out punishment, but it was almost more than she could tolerate.

                A moment later, Natasha found herself blinking in surprise as something small and black fell from a ledge above them out of the darkness. It hung there for a moment, unnoticed by the guards. She squinted, finally coming to realize that it was a rope and that a tiny black blob, no larger than four feet or so in size, was sliding down almost on top of the head of the nearest guard.

                As the figure drew nearer, Natasha’s eyes widened as she realized it was an Elin rappelling down the rope upside down. The little creature neared the height of the guard’s head and suddenly flipped off the rope and onto his shoulders, a slight ‘snick’ sound the only noise as a coal-dulled blade slid into his neck. Even as he crumpled, the Elin rolled off him, a knife flying from her hands and into the eye of the guard on the other side of the cage. He had no time to react before he was dead, the sound of his body hitting the stone floor drawing the gaze of the other three Devas and causing them to turn to look in shocked surprise at the bodies of their comrades.

                In front of the cage, the masked Elin turned towards Natasha, her voice deep but adorable, the sound contrasting sharply with what she said, “Princess Rida sends her regards. The ledge above leads to an exit that I have…cleared. Get everyone out while I deal with the rest of this scum.”

                Natasha nodded numbly as the Elin scooped up the cage keys off a fallen guard and thrust them into her hand. Meliday turned as the other three Devas drew weapons and began to charge across the cavern at her, their shouts echoing through the torch-lit darkness.

                For her part, Meliday just smiled beneath her mask, a hand reaching to her back and tugging on the ring mounted here. Her four-bladed, three-foot-wide shuriken was in her hand a moment later, the unusual weapon almost akin to a round glaive. She dashed towards the three attackers, her small size counter-acted by her almost unnatural swiftness. A moment later she went to one knee, sliding beneath a sword swing that would have taken off the tips of her bunny ears if she’d not leaned back. She skidded behind the first attacker, her shuriken slicing through the Deva’s tendons and making him fall to the floor.

                Meliday was up a second later, her weapon swinging around and easily parrying the blows from the next of the Devas. The horned creature shrieked in her face, and she silently blocked another blow before shifting around him and impaling him in the side with one of her weapon’s points. He gasped as blood sprayed from the wound, falling away from her and allowing Meliday to use her feet to kick off him, going airborne and over the head of the third attacker. He whirled to strike at her, but he was too slow and her weapon struck him in the throat before he could retaliate.

                In the corridors beyond, cries rose at the sound of combat and shouting coming from the prisoner’s room. Meliday spared a quick glance at the cage and was satisfied to see that most of the prisoners had already climbed the rope. They were just hoisting the wounded Elin up now. Up above, Natasha caught Meliday’s gaze, the two nodding at each other.

                “Hurry, we’ll throw the rope back down after we hoist her up so you can join us!” Natasha shouted.

                Meliday merely shrugged, walking forward and casually executing the Deva whom she had disabled earlier. She pointed towards the roars coming from the corridor beyond, her voice almost filled with desire as she spoke, “There are more coming. Someone will need to slow them down so you can all get out. Go. I’ll join you later.”

                Natasha frowned, even as they pulled the wounded Elin prisoner to safety, she shook her head, “No, there’s way too many of them. You’ll get killed!”

                Meliday shrugged again, her voice behind the mask almost like iron, “I’m a weapon. Weapons don’t die, they break when they are no longer useful. Go and let me do my job.”

                A moment later Meliday dropped a few small orbs from a pouch on her belt. They clattered across the floor towards the opening to the corridor beyond. As shadows and torchlight rose, signifying reinforcements on the way, the little orbs exploded, filling the cavern below with thick smoke that was impossible to see through.

                The last Natasha saw of the brave little Elin was as the smoke began to coil around her boots, her shuriken in her hands as she waited for the horde of cultists to charge into the room. And then smoke obscured Meliday from view.

                A moment later the screaming started.

**********************************************

                Hours later, Meliday made her way through the forest, her mask now hanging from her belt, and a bloody welt on her face from where it had barely absorbed a blow. She was covered in sweat and gore, but aside from a small wound on her arm, none of it was hers. She’d lingered long enough to see the prisoners reach a Federation outpost before withdrawing.

                She’d find a stream to wash off in, forage for some food in the forest, and then be on her way. There was little reason to stay, she’d done her job and there would be many more jobs in the future. It was her way, what the Goddess had made her to do. She knew that now, and maybe she’d always known it. The past was the past, and even if it hurt, it was good to know that one was fulfilling one’s purpose in the world.

                With a grin, Meliday disappeared into the forest, more agile and quiet than even a real bunny would have been, neither a predator nor prey, but instead a fang of her Goddess.

Totally Useful- A Tera Story

The two men traveled quickly through the thick forest, stopping often to check the ground for signs of their quarry. Although they had encountered quite a few bent and broken plants and numerous signs of bleeding foes, they had yet to catch up to the group of Devas that was fleeing ahead of them, and certainly they had not found any stragglers left behind along the way.

As the men pushed further into the darkness of the Oblivion Woods, Old Ben brought a hand up, signaling a halt. He peered at the ground with a frown on his face before slipping from his mount and leaning closer to the soil to get a good look. Jonathan pulled his own mount up, watching the old soldier work with his own frown firmly in place.

"Find something?" Jonathan asked, looking around at the dense foliage that surrounded them. They were in a narrow channel that must have been carved by the flow of rainwater over the years, with rocky outcroppings rising up on either side of them, trees clinging to the rocks and making a thick canopy that cut off much of the sunlight on the forest floor.

Old Ben grunted, shaking his head before rising and spitting on the ground, "The trail just stops here, as if it never was. There's no sign of them splitting up. No bodies, no weapons. Nothing. In all my years I've never seen someone obliterate a trail so cleanly before."

Alarmed, Jonathan slipped from his own mount, patting it to reassure the beast before stepping closer and studying the forest floor himself. It was as Old Ben said; the ground went from being heavily trampled by multiple people to being completely devoid of any signs of anyone having passed over it. Feeling even more alarmed, he turned to look at Old Ben, the two coming to an understanding in a moment.

"It's a trap," Jonathan said.

Old Ben nodded and spit again, "Yep. Trap."

The two drew their weapons just as the foliage on the rocky outcroppings on either side of the path began to shake as figures rose up from their hiding places. Both rises had at least seven or eight Devas on them, most armed with wicked looking blades, axes, or pikes but one on each side appearing to be higher ranked cultists with some knowledge of spellwork. Old Ben set an arrow to his bowstring as Jonathan prepared his twin swords, the two standing back to back as they realized the odds were against them.

"Ain't gonna be a good ending, Captain," Old Ben said. "Gonna hafta take as many as we can with us."

Jonathan tightened his grip on his swords as he prepared for what would likely be his final battle, his voice tense as he responded, "Aye."

Above them the Devas had already begun their attack, their warriors fanning out and starting their way down the slope on both sides of the trail. The two leaders of the ambush both grinned beneath their hideous leather masks, one of them already beginning to chant, fire starting to burn at his fingertips. Their two victims remained in place, keeping their backs together to enhance their defenses as much as possible in the sudden ambush.

One of the two cult leaders had nearly finished his spell when the ambush met an ambush of its own. Just as the Deva had begun to shout the last words of his spell, he suddenly gasped as the steel tip of a lance punched through his back and out of his chest. He looked down at it in shock, blood pouring from the wound as he began to slide off of the long metal object. The sudden silencing of his voice made the Devas on the right side of the trail pause and look back in surprise. It also drew Jonathan's gaze up the rocky outcropping. What he saw made his eyes widen in surprise.

Bellesta stood triumphantly on the top of the hill, her lance tip bloodied and her shield in hand. She gave Jonathan a little wave which sent the long lance flapping in front of her before she turned her gaze to the Devas below her. Although heavily outnumbered, Bellesta didn't seem to consider the odds as she began a heroic and utterly idiotic charge down the hillside into the mass of enemies that outnumbered her five to one.

Jonathan closed his eyes, not wanting to see the heroic if somewhat air-headed Castanic die at the hands of their enemies, but as he soon found out, the Gods often amused themselves when given the opportunity. In her ill-fated charge, Bellesta did not anticipate the slope of the rocks, the moss covering them, or the fact that she had insisted on wearing high heels on her plate boots as many of her people had a habit of doing. As she plunged down the slope at high speeds, a miscalculated step and some slippery moss did part of the work, while plain old gravity assisted with the rest.

Instead of heroically charging to her death, Bellesta tumbled forward and then went airborne, her ungraceful, inexperienced charge turning into a majestic flight shield-first down the side of the hill. Regrettably her flight was short lived, and even more regrettably for the Devas that had been prepared to attack her, they were the reason for the abrupt end of her flight. The first three never even knew what hit them as the armored Castanic slammed into them at high speed, bowling them over and tossing them backwards into their companions.

Devas flew backwards, slamming into one another and tumbling down the slope in heaps. Atop them Bellesta continued her own fall, her shield acting almost as a sled upon their soft flesh as she bounce off of one, crushed another, and slid over more of them. The clatter of metal on stone and flesh was enough to make Jonathan open his eyes in time to see a mass of leather clad Devas and mostly naked Castanic land in a heap of writhing limbs on the ground at the edge of the slope. In one accidental blow, Bellesta had unintentionally disabled half the ambush.

Battle-hardened and experienced from years of warfare, Old Ben didn't waste a moment in seizing upon the advantage the misguided Castanic woman had given them. In a flash his bow jerked to the side and released an arrow, the deadly projectile lodging in the throat of the second spellcaster. Equally used to combat, Jonathan whirled around his companion, slamming into the oncoming wave of attackers from the other side of the path and cutting two down in an impressive display of swordsmanship.

As Old Ben peppered the attackers on that side with more arrows, Jonathan plunged into the melee, vowing to take advantage of the mess Bellesta had made of the ambush and hoping that his unlikely rescuer was alive. Behind the two men, the mass of Devas groaned and attempted to rise, one figure standing out amongst them as she rose up from amongst the pile of twisted limbs.

Bellesta had somehow managed to retain her grip on her lance and shield, and as she rose up she began to employ the weapons in her amateurish way, slamming the edge of the shield on the skulls of those who were still conscious and piercing one Deva through the arm with the lance tip as he attempted to regain his blade.

With the groaning mass of enemies mostly incapacitated, Bellesta turned her head, her black hair whipping around her as she took in the rest of the situation. Her companions were fighting against fierce enemies, but now that they had only one side of the trail to worry about they were holding their own. What they did not notice and what she immediately spotted was a small group of Devas attempting to sneak around behind them. Without even thinking much of it she grasped her lance more tightly and set her heels to the ground, bracing her self before dashing off and picking up great speed.

Jonathan had just cut down another enemy as one of the Devas beside him took an arrow to the neck and fell amongst the wounded. With those deaths the foes they had been fighting lost their nerve and began to flee, giving him a much needed respite from the battle. He turned to look at Old Ben when he again found himself surprised. Behind the two men a pack of Devas had broken from the foliage and begun to charge, bearing down on Old Ben's unprotected back. Jonathan shouted, dashing towards the attackers and causing Old Ben to whirl and then stumble backwards as he avoided the first slash from the closest of the Devas.

Just as Jonathan met up with the leading cultists and crossed blades with them, a warcry echoed out through the valley. He turned his head to see Bellesta charging in, lance extended and shield set against her arm, her body moving at full speed as she slammed into the side of the Deva attack.

Although Bellesta only managed to wound one of the cultists, the ferocity of her untrained attack sent her enemies reeling. Jonathan managed to cut down another of the Devas as he watched Bellesta move. As in the tavern, she displayed a natural talent for mayhem once she was in battle, the graceful movements of her body keeping her naked flesh clear of enemy weapons while her own shield was bashed repeatedly into skulls and her lance pierced through the bodies of her foes.

With Jonathan and Old Ben pressing the edge of their party and Bellesta making a delightful mess of any formation they might have formed, the cultists found themselves quickly being battered into submission and several of them broke and ran. To Jonathan's surprise, Bellesta was so enthused to continue the battle that she actually ran after them, her charge paused only long enough for her to reach down and snatch some manacles and chains from one of the fallen Devas which she then threw like a projectile.

Her target was struck in the legs as he ran from the field at full speed. Entangled, he tripped and fell on his own blade. Jonathan winced as he saw the bloody tip sticking from the Deva's side and he paused to survey the battlefield.

There were no more attackers, and besides for the frantic calls of the Devas who were fleeing through the woods, the sounds of battle had come to a close. Jonathan sighed with relief, cleaning his weapons before sheathing them and nodding to Old Ben. The old soldier grinned and then glanced to his right as Bellesta bounded over to them. The Castanic woman was breathing hard but had a beautiful smile on her face, as if she didn't understand how close they'd all come to being slain by the Devas.

"See?! I told you I could be totally useful!" Bellesta said happily. She planted the tip of her lance in the ground beside her and began to unfasten her shield from her arm as she nodded at the two men.

"Yes...I suppose you were," Jonathan conceded. "Even so, you were nearly killed. This is why we wanted you to stay in town."

"Well so were you!" Bellesta said, gesturing around them. "I totally helped you and you know it! Now you have to let me come with you the rest of the way."

Jonathan sighed again, trying to think of some way to dissuade the Castanic woman when he felt Old Ben's hand clamp down on his shoulder. The old soldier looked at him and grinned, "She's right, Captain. Can't argue with her now when you see the results. I was against it too, but I'll be struck blind by the Gods if I won't take a gift when I see one. She's got talent and this won't be the last fight. Let's just take her along and not waste any more time."

Bellesta squealed with delight and dashed over to hug the old man, which made him turn several rather amusing shades of red. Jonathan sighed again and then looked at the forest around them; the forest that was now covered with the bodies of their foes thanks to Bellesta's unexpected appearance.

Although he knew somehow he was going to regret it, he shook his head and gave in, his voice firm, "Fine, she can come with us. But you have to do exactly as you're told. I don't want you wandering off alone when we're near the enemy. We stick together and get this done. Got it?"

Bellesta clapped excitedly, nodding before bringing a hand up to her chest. She made an 'X' over her heart with her fingers and she replied solemnly, "Cross my heart, Captain!"

Jonathan sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples as he turned towards his horse. It was going to be quite the adventure now, but just maybe the three of them would ensure that no other innocents were hunted down by the Devas again. With that in mind, his purpose was clear and his course set.

He just hoped he wasn't about to regret the choices he'd made over the past few days.

Delightful Company- A Tera Story

Jonathan grunted as he pulled the last strap on the saddle, tightening it as much as possible to keep the supplies from coming free during the trip. As he turned, Old Ben was waiting, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back and a long bow in his hand. The old timer had a slew of daggers and knives strapped here and there about his person, and combined with his grizzled appearance he looked ready to take on anything. It was a good thing too, as they just might have to.

"You ready to head out?" Jonathan asked. Behind Old Ben, the fire-gutted remains of the tavern that the Devas had attacked was a stark reminder of how serious their task was.

"Ready as I'll ever be," the old man responded with a grin. "It'll be like old times in a way; been a long while since I've set out on a scouting mission."

Jonathan nodded grimly, looking over the ruins and then sighing, "Not exactly the way I wanted to start out my career in this area, but we don't get to choose our fate I guess. The Gods play the worst sorts of jokes on us at times. If you're all set we should probably get started. They had wounded with them but they know the area and can travel fast so that won't slow them too much."

The old man nodded and Jonathan turned towards his horse. Just as he was about to mount up, he spied something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, holding a hand to his mouth to signal silence to Old Ben. As he stared hard at a section of wooden wall that had once been connected to the tavern, his keen eyesight spotted a pair of horns sticking up over the edge of the woodwork as if a beast had hidden itself there but done a poor job of it. He pointed, and in a second Old Ben had his bow drawn and arrow at hand.

"Whoever you are, come out where we can see you!" Jonathan yelled. "And no tricks or you'll be full of arrows before you get to explain yourself!"

A noise that sounded halfway between a startled gasp and some sort of animal squeaking came from behind the fence and the pair of horns slowly rose up and gave way to a head of black hair and then a pair of red eyes as they peered over the edge of the woodwork. The eyes widened as their owner took in the sight of Old Ben's bow aimed in their direction and two hands quickly shot up over the Castanic's head.

"Oh Gods, don't shoot me! I-I just wanted to h-help!" came the nervous reply. The voice was instantly familiar to Jonathan, and he relaxed as he heard it.

"Oh, it's you. The barmaid. What was it again...Bellesta?" he said. Beside him Old Ben grunted and lowered his weapon as he realized that they were not about to be attacked.

The Castanic woman smiled and nodded, rising up from her hiding place and walking around the edge of the broken wood to approach them. As she cleared the rubble, Jonathan's eyes widened when he got a good look at her. Gone were the tight pants and top she'd been wearing when she was tending to the bar. In their place was virtually nothing, the Castanic woman having stripped herself down to her smallclothes and a few bits of mismatched chain and plate pieces that she'd haphazardly strapped to her legs and arms. When he was able to tear his gaze away from this sight, he noted that she'd acquired a rusty old lance and battered looking shield that she'd strapped to her back.

"W-what...by the Gods, why are you hiding in the rubble dressed like that?" Jonathan finally managed to sputter.

Beside him, Old Ben grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder, "You ain't never seen a Castanic prepared for war before? They don't go much in the way of clothes. Slows 'em down so they say. She's fixin' to go on a hunt of her own."

"W-war..?" Jonathan said, still somewhat shocked by the barmaid's sudden appearance. "Y-you're planning to go hunt the Devas down?"

By this point Bellesta had joined the two men, and she nodded happily, smiling at them both in turn, "You bet! Your speech totally inspired me! And besides, we can't let them go around doing what they did. That'd be wrong, and they are wrong even if they're too Gods-blinded to see it!"

Jonathan managed to clamp his jaw closed long enough to evaluate what she'd said, looking at her critically, "You do understand that this is a potentially deadly situation, right? We're going to scout out the base of operations for a group of murderous cultists. We'll likely be in battle, which as far as I saw in the tavern the other night you have absolutely no experience with whatsoever."

Bellesta nodded again, the smile still on her face, "Oh yes, I know it's super serious! Don't worry, I will do my best to learn from you! Besides, it can't be that hard right? Like everyone who passed through the tavern was a soldier. If it was so hard no one would want to do it!"

Jonathan exchanged a glance with Old Ben, the quick look conveying a range of unspoken thoughts. He turned to look at Bellesta, picking his next words carefully so as not to upset her, "Listen, Bellesta. We appreciate your enthusiasm here, but when I gave that speech I sort of meant that you should go and seek out training with the Federation's armies. Not...just rush off into the woods without any preparation. I don't want your inexperience to get you killed."

Bellesta immediately began to look crestfallen, a pout forming on her pink lips. She planted her hands on her bare hips, a fire dancing in her eyes, "What are you trying to say? I'm not good enough to go? I totally know more about those cultists than you do, that's for sure! You have to let me go!"

Jonathan shook his head, his expression set, "I'm sorry Bellesta, but it's too dangerous. You should go to Lumbertown instead and report what happened here and seek out some training. You'll do the most good for the Federation that way."

If he'd expected the former barmaid to take this suggestion lightly, Jonathan would find himself very surprised as the Castanic woman began to huff and stomp around in front of the two men, waving her hands in the air, "That is totally not fair! They tried to kill me too you know! A-and besides, like I said I know about these people! Trust me! You have to let me come!"

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, searching for the right words to soothe her when Old Ben stepped forward, his voice gruff, "Hush girl. He said no, and that's that. Your bellyaching is just going to delay us more. Hurry off now to town, and let us get to our work eh?"

Bellesta instantly stopped her little temper tantrum, as if she realized it was futile to continue that tact. Instead, she stepped closer to Jonathan, running a hand up his arm as she peered into his eyes, her voice husky now, "Pleeeeeease won't you let me come with you? I promise I'll be super good and do anything you tell me to do so I won't get hurt. I always do what I'm told..."

Jonathan found it suddenly quite difficult to concentrate with the mostly naked woman leaning towards him, her red eyes peering into his. After swallowing hard and taking a moment to steady himself, he shook his head and somehow managed to keep his voice firm, "No, I'm afraid not. Although I'd love to have your company along on the trip, I would feel personally responsible if you got hurt. Please, go back to Lumbertown and wait for us there. I promise that once we've located the camp and I come back, we can look into getting you some proper training so you don't have to stay behind next time, okay?"

Bellesta sighed, looking disappointed but thankfully not throwing another tantrum. She slowly peeled herself away from Jonathan's side, and to his great relief nodded, "A-alright then, if that is the way you really feel. But you'd better come back. I want to do something to help! Those cultists...they're bad. Really bad. I know all about it. They aren't going to stop, and something has to be done!"

Jonathan nodded, feeling relieved as he turned and mounted his horse. Behind him Old Ben turned and got his own horse, mounting up beside him. Jonathan looked down at the Castanic woman, seeing a bit of defiance in her eyes still. He spoke softly, and he hoped reassuringly, "Don't worry, we won't be gone long. We're just going to scout out their camp and then we'll be back. They left a trail we can easily follow. Go back to town, and we'll see you there soon."

With that he snapped the reins and headed towards the edge of the looming forest, Old Ben following along behind him, leaving the Castanic woman standing amongst the debris of her former life. Behind Jonathan, Old Ben grinned and muttered to him, keeping his voice low, "Not bad there, Captain. Not too many men would have said no to that."

Jonathan just stared straight ahead, grimly keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, his response clipped and short, "I did what I had to do. She'd have been a liability and we've work to do."

****************************

In the ruins behind them, Bellesta watched them head off into the forest, kicking idly at some of the charred debris on the ground around her, "It's not fair. I deserve a chance to at least try. And besides, they're not doing anything hard, following that trail...."

Bellesta's voice trailed off as she thought about what she was saying, her red eyes peering into the edges of the forest around her and her mind churning. Something about what Jonathan had said suddenly didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it at first.

After a moment of idle thought, her eyes widened and she murmured to herself, "There is no way they would have left a trail, even with wounded. They're way too picky about who they let near their encampments. Why would there be a trail when they could just leave the wounded behind and not risk their holdout? They wouldn't even let any of us who weren't with them near their secret places."

Bellesta concentrated hard, trying to puzzle it out and having great difficulty with the question. She was not very knowledgeable about strategy and tactics, and the actions of her enemies puzzled her to no end. After a few moments of essentially staring absentmindedly into the forest, her eyes widened again and she snapped her fingers.

"That's it! It's one of those...what do you call thems...where you hide and wait for people so you can hurt them! A bush!" Bellesta exclaimed. She frowned and shook her head, "No, that's not it, but whatever, they're going to get hurt if I don't help them!"

With that she burst into action, turning and running around behind the ruins of the tavern before leading out a horse that she purchased from one of the tavern patrons who had lost his cart in the fire and no longer needed the creature. Although it was old and not a warhorse, it would do for fast travel and right now that is what Bellesta needed the most. With a shout she jumped up into the saddle, snapping the reins and causing the old beast to burst into a rather slow trot.

"Don't worry guys, I'm coming to help!" Bellesta said to no one in particular, a smile plastered to her face as she set out on her first real adventure.

A Special Set of Skills- A Tera Story

Note: The following story is an origin tale for a character set in the world of Tera.

Several months ago, outskirts of the Oblivion Woods.

The inside of the wayside tavern was a welcome sight to Captain Jonathan Silde. After traveling for many miles through the twisting paths within the woods the day was drawing to a close and he felt bone weary. The tavern itself was small, if comfortable looking on the inside with a large hearth set off to one side of the common room, a bar, and a doorway leading into what he presumed was a kitchen in the rear. A set of stairs outside lead to several rooms on the structure's second floor that one could rent for the evening.

As he pushed through the doorway and shut out the deepening night behind him, Jonathan searched the room for a place to sit. The tavern was obviously a popular stopping point for travelers and all of the tables had at least one or two people sitting in quiet and sometimes not-so-quiet conversation. As he looked around, Jonathan made eye contact with a grizzled looking old man with graying hair. The older man nodded at him, beckoning him over.

“Come have a seat, lad,” the man said with a smile. “The name's Ben Greenhand and I'm always one to welcome a weary traveler to my table.”

Sinking into the seat with some degree of relief, Jonathan smiled and extended his hand, “Jonathan Silde, sir. I thank you for the kindness.”

“Oh think nothing of it,” Ben said with a grin as he returned the handshake. “Besides, a weary soldier ain't doing any of us no good, now is he? Sit and drink and you can repay sharing my table with a few tales from the world out there.”

Jonathan blinked once and grinned, “That obvious eh? I was trying not to wear any rank insignia on my armor until I got to my new posting at Lumbertown.”

The old man laughed, slapping a hand down on the table, “Takes an old soldier to spot a soldier, friend. Was a time when I used to carry a sword instead of an ax to fell trees. Good to see some fresh blood coming into these parts though, what with the troubles going on. Don't take that the wrong way though, you'll like it here just fine I'm thinking. We got lots of positives out here on the edge of civilization.”

Jonathan laughed, setting his travel pack down beside him along with his twin swords, sighing with relief as the weight was removed, “Positives eh? What do you have out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Ben grinned and brought his hands up to his mouth, issuing a sharp whistle from between his lips and fingers. Jonathan blinked once in curiosity before he realized the man was calling the barmaid over. He turned, figuring that the place must have great food, and stopped, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

To say the barmaid was beautiful was an understatement. Jet black hair hung long around her face and he presumed down the middle of her back, swaying with the movements of her perfectly hourglass figure as she deftly made her way through the throng within the tavern, somehow avoiding the grasping hands that reached out to touch her as if by instinct. The light pink skin and metal horns jutting from the top of the Castanic woman's head did little to detract from the sight of the skin-tight leather pants and low cut vest she wore; in fact they gave her more of an exotic appearance and added to her beauty.

As she came closer, she smiled down at Ben, a somewhat vapid look on her face as she tilted her head, “You need something, Ben?”

“Yes my dear, my new friend here needs some ale and a bit of some of that roast you were serving earlier,” Ben replied with a grin. “I could use some more ale myself as well.”

The Castanic woman's red eyes blinked once and then she reached down to a small pocket on her pants. Her eyes widened a bit and she began to pat her other pockets, shaking her head in disappointment, “Oh gods, I forgot my notepad again. Hold on just one second sweetie! I'll be back in a flash!”

With that the dull-witted creature darted back into the crowd, heading towards the bar. Jonathan managed to tear his gaze away from her swaying hips long enough to see the older man grinning at him before they both laughed.

“She's a sweetheart, but if there's more than a spring breeze between her pointed ears I'd be surprised,” Ben said with a grin. “Still, she treats everyone kindly and she's a welcome sight to see walking around here. Like I said, this place has a lot of positives going for it.”

Jonathan nodded and grinned, watching in appreciation as the air-headed barmaid wound her way back through the crowd, notepad clutched triumphantly in her hands and a gorgeous smile plastered on her face.

Positives indeed..

***************************************************

It was getting late in the evening, and Jonathan had pushed his plate and his now-empty mug of ale away from him as he reclined in the chair. He'd been exchanging stories with the old lumberjack for hours and was starting to feel the weariness from his travels set in. The rest of the tavern had wound down to a dull murmur as well, few of the patrons as rowdy as they'd been when the evening began.

Across the tavern the barmaid, whom Jonathan had come to know was named Bellesta or Bell for short, was leaning against the edge of the bar, watching the patrons and cleaning her hands with a rag. The bartender behind her had begun to doze off where he sat, leaning against his own bar with his head down on the wooden plank that made up its top, light snores issuing from him.

It was the drowsy, torpid energy in the room that made the sudden attack so devastating. One moment Jonathan was preparing to rise and saying his good-nights to old Ben, and the next moment there was a thunderous roar as explosives were detonated in front of the windows and doors of the tavern.

The blasts blew in the glass and sent splinters of wood from the shattered barrier flying into the room. A half dozen of the patrons nearest to the exterior wall of the structure fell instantly, pierced by flying projectiles. Through the choking smoke and flaming holes in the walls, the stunned patrons could see people running frantically outside of the structure and the small wall that guarded the inn engulfed in flames beyond.

That was all the time that those within had to come to terms with the situation before a number of horned figures dashed through the holes in the sides of the structure, weapons glinting in the light of the flames.

“Devas! We're under attack!” one of the patrons shouted. That was the only warning those within had before the twisted, evil Castanic cultists began their assault, weapons flashing as they began to cut down the patrons within the tavern.

Pandemonium erupted as patrons scrambled out of their chairs. Those few who had weapons like Jonathan did snatched them up, desperately trying to ward off blows in their drunken states. Most of those within the tavern were local lumberjacks or townsfolk traveling from Lumbertown to Crescentia, and few were able to defend themselves for any length of time as the brutal cultists made their way through the tavern.

For his part, Jonathan found himself almost instantly in a heated battle as the foes realized he was armed. His twin blades spun as he parried and dodged the blows from the cultists, desperately trying to clear some space to defend himself. The enemies were brutal in their assault, their faces covered in dark leather that had been ritually stained with the blood of their sacrifices and their blades moving almost faster than the eye could track. As he parried another blow, Jonathan knew they were in dire straits.

One of the Devas leaped past his guard, a blade traveling towards his heart. He braced himself, prepared to die only to see the attacker gasp and fall, a knife protruding from her side. With a snarl Old Ben was beside Jonathan, another blade in his hand as he cleared some space near the soldier and bought them both some time. Even with his valiant efforts, the two and a few other patrons were trapped with the hearth behind them and no route out of the tavern.

As he took in the situation, Jonathan looked across the bar, his heart sinking as he saw the Devas leaping towards those who were further within the structure. Unable to look away, he watched in horror as one of the attackers jumped on a table and brought his wicked looking two-handed blade down, right towards the barmaid Bellesta's head. Jonathan screamed, knowing he could not save the poor woman.

To his surprise, the dull-witted Castanic woman jumped backwards, her hands instinctively snatching at the bar behind her. She grabbed a platter that was normally used to bring roast pigs to the tables. It was a heavy metal disc with two metal handles along its rim to allow servers to carry the heavier roasts out. As Jonathan watched, Bellesta brought the platter up just in time to intersect the second swing of the sword, the metal of the blade sparking as it connected with the platter, nearly jarring the weapon from the Deva's hand.

As if this was not surprising enough, Bellesta then stepped towards her attacker, her eyes wide as if she had no idea why she was doing what she was doing. She brought the heavy metal platter up and down, right on the attacker's face, the sound of the metal striking flesh carrying over the battle and enough to almost make Jonathan wince if hadn't had more pressing concerns.

In front Jonathan more of the Devas pushed forward, intent on slaying the patrons sheltering behind the soldier and his old companion. Jonathan responded in kind, his blades flashing as he attempted to block the attacks of the faster moving Devas, Old Ben fighting alongside him until a wound to his arm made him fall back.

Across the tavern, several of the other patrons had rallied behind Bellesta as she began to systematically bludgeon people unconscious with her serving platter. If not for the dire danger they were in the sight might almost have been comical, with the dark-haired Castanic having looped her arm through the handles on the rim of the platter as if it were a shield.

Unfortunately the Devas were intent on destroying the tavern, and flames had already begun to lick up the outer edges of the structure. Jonathan knew they were running out of time even as a renewed attack by the cultists forced him back and closer to the hearth behind him. Across the tavern, he saw a wave of enemies push Bellesta back, the tide of battle sweeping her and those few who had stood behind her towards the kitchen doorway at the back of the tavern. He lamented that she would probably die there, cut down as she bravely fought alongside the patrons to defend the tavern.

He was given little time to think after that, the final push of the Devas forcing him back further and further, condensing the small mass of survivors behind him together as they tried to avoid being pushed into the hearth. It was clear that the cultists were going to either cut them down or force them into the fire where they would burn, and it looked like there was little he could do to stop them.

Minutes went by, precious time that they didn't have, and Jonathan felt his arms growing weary from the endless attacks. He began to take wounds, here a blade striking his hip, there a backstroke nicking his arm and making him bleed. With each cut, each wound his strength began to fade, until one of the Devas finally got through his guard, delivering a kick to his chest that threw him to the floor.

As he looked up through bleary eyes, he could see one of the Devas grinning down at him, blade raised to deliver a killing blow. In that moment, a battle-shout rolled out over the tavern, and he turned his head, looking away from his would-be killer and across the blood-spattered floor of the tavern.

The shout had come from the doorway of the kitchen, and to Jonathan's ever-lasting surprise the Devas that had been fighting there were hurled back as a pack of tavern-goers and cooks emerged from the doorway, butcher knives and pots in hand and wielded as weapons. Leading them was Bellesta, her red eyes flashing as she battered one of the attackers out of the way with her platter-shield. In her other hand she held a broom handle, the end of it having been snapped off into a sharpened point which she plunged into the neck of one of the Devas that tried to stand in the group's way.

In an instant the tide of the battle turned, cultists falling back and away from the enraged defenders, Bellesta's charge forcing them away from the group and negating their agile movements as she bodily slammed into them and then slammed them into one another. Another warcry burst from her mouth as her make-shift spear plunged forward, stabbing into the guts of one of the Devas and dropping him to the floor.

Jonathan smiled, closing his eyes as he prepared to die, the knowledge that even the least-likely person could rise up as a hero in an emergency giving him comfort. He braced himself for the killing blow he knew was coming, only opening his eyes again when a heavy object thudded to the floor beside him.

When his eyes opened, he was staring into the dead eyes of a Deva, the Castanic's neck a bloody mess from where he'd been stabbed. Jonathan rolled his head, looking up to see Bellesta standing over him now, her platter-shield bashing the senses out of another Deva and deflecting a blade that would have struck her in the heart.

Behind her the cooks rushed in, their cleavers swinging and their enraged attack forcing the cultists back further. Realizing that their attack was about to bog down, the crafty foes withdrew as if they had all heard a signal, a few of them exchanging blows with the tavern defenders before darting back out through the flaming opening they'd used to enter the establishment.

Just like that, the battle was over, the tavern falling silent for a moment with only the crackle of the flames and the heavy breathing of those who had survived to be heard. Those who had lived through the attack paused, looking at each other and sharing a moment of camaraderie that would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

Above Jonathan, Bellesta stirred, stepping forward and turning to look at those who had fought with her, her eyes wide in surprise at what they had all done. Jonathan's experienced eyes could see that she had never been in a battle before, never wielded weapons in her life. The surprise that she'd lived, that she'd triumphed, was genuine and spoke of a natural skill with weapons that, if nurtured, would grow to make a mighty champion one day. He knew he had to act fast to preserve it and to encourage it to grow, for the Federation needed people like the barmaid to fight for it, especially if the cultists had grown so bold.

He sat up, coughing once and speaking into the shocked silence, his words carrying weight in the stunned minds of the survivors, “We've faced darkness today friends. We've faced those who would lay us low and burn our towns and take our lands in the name of vile gods. But instead of running in fear, we took up weapons and defended our homes, our nation against that darkness. We stood firm in the face of defeat, and gave it our all.”

He rose slowly and painfully from the floor, grunting as his wounds cried out for rest. Instead he forced himself to stand, looking each of the defenders in the eye, lingering when he came to Bellesta, speaking as if he was speaking to her, “Not everyone would do what you have all done here tonight. Many would flee in terror. It is champions like you who will shape the future. It is heroes like you who will decide what kind of place the Federation will be in the future. You should all be proud of yourselves, of what you have accomplished, of your bravery.”

He spoke now directly to her, a smile on his lips as she stared wide-eyed at him, knowing that he would plant the seeds for the future in her mind, “I am Captain Jonathan Silde and part of the Federation's army, and I say that the deeds I have seen this night are tales to be told for years to come. You have done the Federation a great service this night, and we are all in your debt. Never forget your strength, for it can take you so much further. Thank you, hero.”

The rest of the survivors cheered when he finished, their joyous cries rolling over Bellesta and echoing out into the night. In the noise she made no sound, but he saw her blush and look down at her own hands in wonder. He saw her studying the broken broom handle that she'd used to slay her enemies, knew she was reliving the battle again in her head, the long handle of the splintered wood grasped firmly in her hands.

Hands that would one day grip a lance. A lance that would be used not by a barmaid, but by a champion of the Federation who had only just discovered just what it was she could do if she tried.