//------------------------------// // Chapter Eighteen // Story: Battle Ready: The Rising of Sin // by D101 Reviews //------------------------------// Mayor Mare opened the safe door and Battle quickly snatched up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. She looked at him concerned with the severe expression on his face. The moment was gone as soon as it came however as Battle turned to her and smiled politely. "I'm sorry to have to drag you to city hall so early Mayor but really I don't think this could've waited," he explained. "It's," Mayor Mare began to say, but ended up stifling a yawn before she continued. "It's fine. To tell the truth I haven't been able to sleep all that well since Nightmare Night. I can't imagine how all those poor little foals must have felt." "I'm sure Princess Luna's helping them cope with it," Battle reassured her smiling gently. He paused at that and looked at the floor. "Any chance the one they caught said anything?" Mayor Mare frowned. "I wouldn't know. The Lunar Guard took her away pretty quickly whoever she was. I doubt they'd tell us down here in Ponyville if she's said anything, much less the specifics." "I dunno, I think the people of Ponyville deserve some sort of explanation," Battle shrugged. "I agree, but this was an attack on the Princess Battle," Mayor Mare reminded. "A very severe political move. It's a shame Princess Twilight wasn't here. She might've been able to catch those fiends." Battle blinked; he'd realised something. Something awful. Something that made his blood run a little cooler. Something that made him thankful for the fact that Princess Twilight hadn't been present for the Nightmare Night fiasco. After all... attacking a Princess completely surrounded by her royal guard in the middle of a public festival... seemed a lot more difficult than abducting one in the middle of busy crowd... "Battle?" Mayor Mare tentatively interrupted, "Are you quite alright?" Battle shook himself and looked back at Mayor Mare and smiled. "Sorry just a few thought running around. Must've zoned out. Need this holiday more than I thought I guess." "You never told me where you were going," Mayor Mare said. "You'll pardon my curiosity surely?" "Of course," Battle agreed. "I'm just going away to catch my breath. A walking holiday," he explained, then, seeing her confusion, "They're quite popular in my homeland as a way of clearing one's head from a busy time in one's life. Ponyville might just be a little rural town but life never stops moving around here does it?" "I understand," she said, nodding in agreement. "I don't blame anyone for wanting to take a brief vacation. Any plans?" "Exploring mostly," Battle responded. "Get some fresh air, calm my nerves you know? Take in some of the countryside." "And the bag is for?" "Oh." Battle's smile dipped a fraction. "Safety. In case I run into Timberwolves," he replied, his voice with and edge to it now. Or something worse. It took him a while but he managed to return to the place where he had fought Happy-Face in the Everfree Forest on Nightmare Night. The fact that the body had barely been touched by the local wildlife was both a testament to the amount of hemlock he'd consumed, and the true nature of his physiology. "I hate being right," Battle muttered to himself. He sighed and knelt down, setting the beg on the grass before him. His ear twitched as he heard something rustle in the trees but he paid it no head. Within a moment his bag was open and the contents splayed out before him, and he began taking an itinerary of what lay within. First was a standard issue Warhorse field medicine kit for self-application. It was comprised of an anti-septic balm, needle and thread, painkillers and disinfectant alcohol. Beside that was a Warhorse standard issue combat knife, a simple blade with one side serrated along its edge where it met the handle. This was accompanied by an officers hunting knife; a more severe affair that was longer and shaped more like a claw than a standard straight knife blade. He put these into their respective sheaths and buckled them around his waist. He then buckled a belt round his midriff and slid five throwing knives into place along his torso. Said throwing knives had a small navy blue gemstone studded into the base of the handle. A set of brass knuckle dusters was slid into place on both fists, before he threw on his long coat. Over that he fastened another harness around his torso, sliding the crossbow into its clasp, the quiver beneath it across his spine; filled with twenty bolts. He then grabbed two glass bottles and stuffed one into each the pockets of his coat. Smiling gently to himself he grabbed a packet of matches and shoved that into the left pocket. Finally there were two more sheaths buckled to each hip. He filled one with a machete, the other a combat axe. Battle straightened to his full height and breathed in deep through his nose, eyes closed, tension leaving his body in a great wave as his entire body shuddered. The feeling that rocked through him was one of pure energy. It was like his arm had been taken from him and now he'd been gifted it anew. Truly he had felt naked without his weapons. He felt strong again, he felt energized. He was pumped. He was ready. He'd forgotten the sense of being fully armoured and ready for combat; the adrenaline surging, coursing through every vein in his body, the rapid pulse of his heart. Something rustled in the bushes and growled threateningly. The throwing knife left Battle's hand faster than Rainbow Dash on a cider run. The pitiful yelp of a timber wolf was all the confirmation Battle needed to know he'd hit the unfortunate beast right between the eyes. Battle's eyes opened with slow deliberation as his horn glowed with the silver magic. The bushed rustled as the timber-wolf was lifted through the air before it was dumped at Battle's feet. Battle reached into the left pocket and unscrewed the cap as he yanked the throwing knife out of the beast's forehead. He quickly splashed the timber-wolf with the contents, careful to use as little as possible before recapping it and sliding it into his pocket. He picked out the box of matches and flicked it open. "Could've given me a few more you cheapskate," he chuckled to himself and picked out one of remaining half-dozen and proceeded to light it. "Ah well, can't be helped." He dropped it onto the timber-wolf and watched as the concentrated alcohol caught alight and spread to the body of the timber-wolf itself. "This one's on you Arson." The light of the flames danced in Battle's eyes as the Timber-wolf slowly began to blacken and turn to charcoal. Once he was fairly certain that the beast was dead and wouldn't be coming back he started to stamp out the flames, sending ash and sparks everywhere; splitting cremated wood into black chunks. Pleased with his handiwork he looked over the throwing knife he'd used and inspected it. Timber-wolves had no real blood to speak of, their bodies being wood and plant-matter bound together and driven by the will of dark spirits. Still, there were those that secreted tree sap as if it were a vital fluid. This one was not one of those, the only remnant of it lingering on the blade being a few splinters which Battle blew a way with a sharp huff before he replaced the knife back into its sheath. "Alright then," he murmured to himself, pulling his combat axe from it's sheath.. "Let's get moving." It was a long while later and Battle Ready was crouched over a small fire, a few wild carrots and mushrooms cooking on a stick he'd planted leaning into the flames. He hadn't stopped walking for most of the time since he'd donned his old weapons, finally taking heed of his weary feet and empty stomach. He's gathered some edible fungi and root vegetables from nearby and made a small fire to cook them on in a secluded corner of a dark cave. He'd taken a note of the time before he'd set up camp. It had been difficult, he hadn't had to calculate time from the setting sun in quite a while and with the sun setting beneath the canopy, he'd had to have climbed a nearby tree. He estimated it to be around 6 in the evening, perhaps even seven. When he left Ponyville it had been nearly half past 6 exactly and it had taken him an hour to find where Happy Face lay dead. He'd had to have been walking for ten hours straight at least. He smiled at that thought. True he was sweaty, sore, tired and hungry, but hadn't this been what he had trained for? All those years in the academy weren't going to waste that was for certain. True he'd packed light with no food and water, but that had been for the sake of speed and stealth. Not that he'd needed stealth. He'd seen many creatures from the Everfree Forest that was true. But only glimpses as they'd turned tale and ran from him. He was certain they hadn't seen or heard him. But they didn't have to. They'd have sensed him. They sensed the aura of a new, lethal predator in their midst. Not that Battle was hunting the likes of them. Game wasn't part of his diet. Battle began eating his now thoroughly charcoaled dinner. It wasn't good by any means, but at least it wasn't poisonous. "Tastes like rancid dog piss but at least it's fucking edible." Battle threw the stick and the food away from him and he scooted back as fast as possible from the fire, eyes wide, breathing shallow, heart throbbing painfully. He clamped his hands over his ears and shook himself violently, trying to rid his mind of the memory, of the voice that pierced his mind like a drill slamming into his brain from both ears. It was a long time before he jolted from his still position. The fire had burned out hours ago and the moon was high in the sky. He must have fallen asleep, or had slipped into a catatonic state. If it was the latter... it had been a long time since he'd suffered from the latter. He shook himself a little and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out the only item he held there. A feather. A feather about as long as the heel of his palm to the tip of his index figure. A brilliant cobalt blue feather, with the edges tapering off into a shimmering, brilliant black. Battle looked at the feather for a long time. He hadn't seen the feather since he'd last taken off his coat. Looking at it filled him with mixed feelings. It eased the raging pain in his chest and the rapid heartbeat, but filled him with a sense of dread, guilt and a sickly, uncomfortable notion in the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of happier, less troublesome times, but also reminded him of his recent awful past. He closed his eyes and his fist, his hand clutching the feather tighter. He took in a deep breath through his nose, before letting out slowly and gently. He opened his eyes again, his mind a little calmer, feelings more organised. He smiled as best he could at the feather. "On my ass as usually am I right?" he murmured to himself as he got to his feet, tucking the feather back into his pocket and striding off into the night; combat axe in his grasp in a flash. He wasn't getting to sleep that was for sure. Something rustled as he strode through the dark of the Everfree. He didn't flinch at the sound of it though, nor did he cast a spell of illumination to try and find it. It had been a while but his eyes were still well accustomed to moving in the dark. He didn't need illumination to guide his way. Conjuring a light would do nothing put alert every hostile creature in the Everfree to his presence. And something huge barrelled out of the darkness and and slammed into Battle Ready. He cried out, a shoulder the size of a young foal forcing all the air from his lungs as it crushed against his abdomen. Before he could readjust himself, his attack slammed him back against a tree. The back his head struck the bark as he was pinned to the tree by the monster that had erupted from the shadows. Dazed and confused, his brain sluggishly began to process the facts, assessing immediate damage from his surprise attack. The sharp pain in his chest indicated two damaged ribs, both at least cracked one possibly broken. He'd received whiplash from the moment when his head was thrown back against the tree, only to snap back as it bounced off of it hard. The back of his skull was most likely cracked and possibly bleeding judging from the warm feeling down the back of his neck and the way his left arm was aching he estimated he'd pulled a muscle in the way that his arms had splayed out when he'd been pinned. Disorientation and a limitation to his possible responses were not set-backs that were greatly appreciated in a surprise attack in the dark. Falling back on instinct, Battle raised his axe hand high and delivered a heavy blow to the back of his attacker, aiming for the neck and a quick finish. The axe stuck with a sickening 'thud' and the attacking beast roared in anger rather than pain. Battle gritted his teeth and twisted the shaft, trying to drive the blade in deeper. The creature snorted and pulled away, taking the axe out of Battle's grasp before slamming Battle against the tree again. Battle let out a strangled cry, his axe hand falling to his side, his brain dimly noting his assessment of two damaged ribs had now gone up to five, the possibility of only two being cracked rather than broken, on top of a bloody nose for some odd reason. His right hand slapped against something hard in his pocket and Battle quickly fumbled with the glass bottle, his other hand reaching into the left pocket with some considerable pain and effort. As the beast pulled back again for another slam, Battle shoved the glass bottle with as much strength as he could muster into the shadow mass. The glass shattered and the creature roared in pain this time, pulling away completely. Battle pulled out the matchbox as fast as he could, lighting and throwing the match as fast as he could. The small flame tumbled through the air before bouncing off the monsters nose, setting ablaze to them in an instant. The beast roared as orange and yellow fire sprung to life across the skin, throwing the dark of the Everfree Forest into sudden shocking yellow brilliance, the sound of rustling leaves and cries of alarm from the nearby inhabitants of the trees and undergrowth. In the sudden light of the fire Battle could see the creature for what it was. At first glance, it appeared to be a manticore. But that wasn't true. For one thing it had no fur, and it's skin was thick and leathery, like the hide of a full grown hydra. A long barbed tailed swished out from behind it, instead of the scorpion sting they were known for. The most prominent detail however was that this, thing, was bipedal, standing on its hind legs, the front paws more like hands with long, razor sharp talons. Battle know he'd found what he was looking for and smirked, wiping the blood from his face on the back of his sleeve. "You're a long way from home aintcha big guy?" Battle asked running up to the blazing 'manticore', kicking off from its shin and grabbing his axe, pulling it free as he rolled over the big monster's shoulder and back to the ground. The 'manticore' was no longer flailing, but the fire was still eating into his skin. It no longer care about the searing fire. It simply wanted to crush Battle's skull. Battle rolled under a backhand strike and came up just behind the legs of his opponent and slashed at the back of its left knee with all the might he could muster in his broken body. The creature screamed as the axe struck the joint, cleaving halfway into fleshed and jarring against the bone. Battle yanked the axe back and roared in pain, the effort tearing his pectorals with the exertion. As his arm came free his hand let go of the axe and bunched up at his chest, as he hissed in pain. With his eyes screwed up in agony, he summoned up his focus, blocking out all pain and he threw himself at the injured leg, a magical shield coming into existence and snapping away from him with the force of a cannon blast. The creature screamed and roared as, with a wrenching tearing snapping sound the carved leg was completely severed from its owner. Battle slumped into place, both arms in seething agony and almost immovable, pain rocketing from horn to toes, the last of his strength gone into the spell. Tired from a day's hiking, exhausted from agony and no food, Battle collapsed onto his stomach, unconscious before his face met grass.