//------------------------------// // Chapter 4: Assistance // Story: Kurai the Forsaken : Rise of The Abyss // by Seth Typofather //------------------------------// Traversing the landscape of the large desert, Ornstein stopped by a cactus and stabbed it with his spear and twisting until a piece popped off like a soda bottle. Picking it up with the thorns bending to the mighty steel of his gauntlet the dragonslayer tiled his head and let the water gathered drip into the mouth of his helmet. “Don’t hog it all to yourself.” Smough wheezed, using his hammer for support. His smaller companion pointed to the large cactus with a silent glare. “Oh, right.” Gripping the column of a green leaf surrounded in spines with both hands he pulled until a chunk was in his grip. Pulling his helmet up so his mouth could get a clear drink he crushed the cactus chunk until the water fell like a monsoon into the black hole that is his mouth. “So, why we going to this ‘Applaloosa’ place?” “…The town near the forest was too risky, thou should know…” Ornstein replied, continuing his walk through the cracked and thirsty landscape. “Oh sure, a town almost full of buffalo is less risky than a town of Elizabeth mushroom high coloured horses!” He stopped to think a second. “You’re worried I might invite myself to a rampage, aren’t you?” A slow nod. That was all it took for Smough to growl like a rabid dog, something the dragonslayer grew accustomed to from all those years. They both painstakingly walked up a hill of dust and earth to see the small western town of Appaloosa, from the looks of it there seems to be a celebration going on. Bison were running in a herd down a path and through what looked like… an apple orchard? In the middle of the desert? Whatever it was it seemed like some sort of tradition, climbing over the hill top Ornstein slid down the other side of the steep hill with confidence, creating a miniature avalanche of pebbles and dust as he did so. Following his example like a toddler Smough lifted himself over the side, his armour though threw him off balance and instead tumbled down the hill like a gold plated snowball. Watching the spectacle Ornstein raised a hand to his helmets face, shaking his head in disapproval. —————— “Two cubes of salt, if you please.” Sheriff Silverstar asked the barkeeper, pulling up a stool as the mumbles of other ponies and buffalo overshadowed by a smooth piano and the singing of the local saloon singer, Honey Voice. Who winked at a couple of patrons eyeing her. “Been a rough day eh, mate?” Asked the barkeeper, opening up a fresh box of salt cubes. “You have no idea, I’m more like the maid of this here town. I clean it up, somepony comes along and messes it up and then the whole process starts all over again!” He threw his forelegs up in the air at the last part of the sentence, his well kept moustache ruffled by a long schedule of law keeping. “Eh well I’m sure ye will find some kind of rest here.” Placing two cubes of salt into a cup of water and stirring thoroughly until the water was a cloudy white. “Two cubes, sir.” “Thank you.” Silverstar smiled, raising the glass with a hoof. “To justice.” Bringing the cup to his lips a rumble echoed through the saloon, the pianist stopping to hear it too while poker players looked up from their cards. The rumbling grew louder and the ground shook. “Are the buffalo going for a second run?” “Too large to be a buffalo run.” The barkeeper raised a brow, the saloon itself was practically shaking. Only good handiwork saving the building from a cruel demolition, the bottles of salt imbued water weren’t so lucky. A loud crack and crash was heard followed by Honey Voice’s scream of terror in reaction to the noise. A couple of the customers trotted outside to see the damage outside, only they were not expecting the sight. A large fat creature, appearing to be made out of gold dusting itself off from a rather nasty tumble down the steep hill. From the indent in the hillside it was obviously heavier than anything in this town combined. Looking up from the giant the town got a glimpse of a smaller figure with the same glint of steel but with a slimmer armour sliding down the mountain, needless to say that was enough for the town to be stirred up into a panic. The sounds of doors and windows being locked, curtains being pulled were heard all over the small town. Landing far more gracefully than Smough, Ornstein took a second to view his surroundings while the executioner stood and dusted himself off with a grimace under his helmet. Looking around the town was empty, a single tumbleweed rolling through it. Using his spear as a walking stick the weary dragonslayer turned to the saloon, seeing a small sign that read ‘HELP WANTED, SECURITY NEEDED’ on the swinging doors. Opening the door he crouched down to step in as Smough followed behind, unable to fit. Turning to his large companion Ornstein shook his head slowly and pointed with an irritated finger to the ground just outside the door. Facing inside the building again he continued walking, Sheriff Silverstar eying him carefully. The creature approached him slowly but with a steady pace and weary steps that caused the floorboards to creak. Raising a hand the entire room flinched in fear before Ornstein placed the sign on the counter top, the barkeeper staring awestruck at the figure that entered his bar. “…Art thou hiring…?” A slow cautious nod. “…Good, my companion and I are in most desperate needs for sustenance. Thine currency is different from mine so we require work to purchase thine essentials…” About an hour later. “We got a rowdy one here!” Called out the bartender to his new bouncer, trying to avoid the angry ranting and tossing of cups by a drunk patron. Coming out of the shadows with his spear ready Ornstein stepped forth with a glare at the rowdy customer who tossed a cup of salty water which broke on his shining mane of the lion shaped helmet. The bar grew silent and very frightened at the draognslayer’s possible reaction of violence, instead he picked up the still ranting patron by his name and tossed him out the door. “And don’t come back till yer sober, mate! Drink some fresh water!” Called out the barkeeper, tossing a bit to Ornstein who caught it with the palm of his hand as he strode into the dark corner again. “Ill show you sober, you-“ His approach and speech was cut short by Smough stomping in front of him, tapping the upper handle of his hammer in a very slam happy hand. “…On second though I’ll just go take home to the missus.” “That’s a mighty fine decision you just made, hirin’ them two.” Honey Voice complimented, resting on a bar stool. “But don’t ya think they might be more trouble than they’re worth?” Giving the barkeeper a half lidded stare. “Honey, this saloon was quite messy before we hired them two blokes. Besides, been a while since we had 'someone' who actually works here. Speaking of which,” Filling up a glass full of grade A saltwater the barkeeper placed it in front of Honey Voice who gave him a knowing smile. “On the house fer yer lovely singin’.” —————— Prowling the forest, Sif sniffed at the air continuously with every few steps. The smell was stronger now, now sure of himself the wolf broke into a sprint, more than determined to find the source. Breaking through a shrug he encountered the source, a slim bipedal figure sitting against a tree. It had dark clothing surrounding it with a porcelain mask upon its head, ivory strands of blonde hair waving slightly. “Ggrr!” (Lord’s Blade Ciaran!) He gently growled, poking her wrist with his snout as if to wake her. Turning her head slowly over to Sif she bolted upright in surprise at seeing the fateful companion of Artorias. “Sif! Oh it’s been a long time since we have seen each other.” She gave him a well deserved scratch behind the ear, as mighty as he was, he could never resist the feel of a good ear scratch and belly rub for his work. Cocking his head to the side for her to have a clear scratch Sif inwardly grinned. “Have you encountered the others?” Ciaran enquired. “Surely if you’re here too, this must mean some of the others are here, right?” Sif nodded with a slow growl in response. He could faintly smell two nearby, pointing a paw in the direction. “Grrmmm, graaahh. (I think I can smell Gough, and a long unidentified smell.)” “Sif, you know only dear Artorias can understand you, I however cannot.” Mused the assassin, hanging her head low. Rolling his eyes the wolf placed a paw on her lap and pointed with the other in the direction of the scent. “Very well, I shall follow. I may be a bit slow, the creatures of this forest are...brutal…” She coughed, moving her hand to show a gash which a tooth shaped stake was embedded. Without hesitation Sif gripped the stake in his jaws, pulling it out with a mighty swing of his neck. Ciaran gritted her teeth through the pain, this was nothing compared to Lordran at least. Tearing off a cloth from her armour she wrapped it around the gash. That will hopefully stem the bleeding and keep the wound from outside infection. Crouching low Sif offered his back as support for the assassin of the Four Knights, Ciaran obliging to his assistance with a smile and rested her frame on his back, locking her arms around his neck. “Grr (Hang on tight!)” Sprinting off with her clinging on his back, bounding over roots and through shrubs and bushes to reach the source of the two smells. —————— “Any sign of he target yet, Roughclaw?” Gilda shouted out to her gryphon squad. “Nada, ma’am. We attempted searching the forest but all we got was a hostile reaction from a pack of manticores, the best we could do is wait for anything to leave and make sure it is the target.” Replied Roughclaw, her second in command. “Alright, alert the Wonderbolt captain to begin a full scale search of the entire continent in this order; Las Pegasus, Alloy, Manehattan, Ponyville, Canterlot, Saddle Arabia, The Crystal Empire, Allied Changeling zones 1 to 163 and Appaloosa!” “Yes, ma’am!” The squad called out in unison, tilting to make a sharp turn towards their first search zone while the messenger headed for Canterlot.