//------------------------------// // The God's Design // Story: Something Worth Fighting for // by Blade Heart //------------------------------// His wounds weren't burning anymore. In fact it was as if they were being cleansed. And it didn't seem like he was being dragged down anymore, rather, he had changed direction and was now being pulled upwards. As he broke the surface of the ocean, he coughed up a mixture of blood and water, and attempted to grab anything he could. He never liked swimming. His chains restricted his arm movement, but with the cannonball being tied to his chest, it helped loosen the bonds, allowing him to, with a little work, easily remove the chains, letting the cannonball fall to the depths once more. As he grabbed the edge of wherever he was grabbing, he pulled himself up and fell face first into the ground. He got up, letting the chains fall around him, and looked around. He found himself soaking wet, bleeding, and wearing clothes that didn't exactly fit him in a cavern shining with sparkling rock and strange flora. Looking back, he saw a pond in the shape of a perfect circle, tinted red with his blood. The light coming from the entrance of the cave gave him the idea he was above water, and decided it would be a better idea to cover his wounds with whatever he could before he bagan exploring. In all the years he had been alive in Remor, he had never been on a boat for longer than a few minutes, or gone swimming. Especially, in the ocean. He preferred to remain on solid ground. Sitting down, he took off the cloth shirt that he had gotten from the chest before, and tore off the sleeve, ringing it as dry as he could before tying it around his arm to stop the bleeding from a bullet. Drying the rest of his shirt, he tried tying it around his body, and when he succeeded, he leaned back, laid down, and tried to get some rest. He woke up not feeling anything, but the moment he tried to move he felt everything. From the joy of still being alive to the pain of having his skin pierced in multiple places. Scratch that, not the joy of still being alive. The joy of still having the chance to defend Remor, and earn victory in the name of the true king. He got up, and started to walk towards the cave entrance, but it was a slow and painful walk. The wounds already festering, and becoming infected, he had a hard time moving without feeling as if hellfire had replaced his blood. Which, he wouldn't be surprised if it had. He didn't expect to survive the fight, or the drowning, and it only made sense to be floating in water with a good extra hundred pounds weighing him down if the the devil had something to do with it. Or the Gods werent done with him. Or his sins had cursed him to an eternity of damnation, to watch, helpless, as Remor falls. the last thought troubled him deeply. He made it half way to the entrance before he found he couldn't push forward. He felt drawn to something behind him. As he turned around, his eyes wandered to the pool, which now had a perfectly calm surface, and was cleansed of any evidence to suggest someone had been bleeding in it. Curious, he started moving towards it, ignoring the pain and wondering if the Gods are going to punish or praise him. Standing over the pool and looking directly in, he saw only his reflection, but he still felt like this pool had meaning, other than being the door to his survival. As he looked closer, he saw shapes begin to form, not exactly recognizable features, but they were buildings, people, horses, and carts. He recognized it as Veritas, the town the King's castle was located. He had been there a good portion of his life, stationed as a watchman. He knew every inch of that place. But the figures weren't going about the daily business of a market, or the run down part of the town. The majority of them were fighting, or crouching behind shields. He knew it was the cowards from the seas because they were using guns, but was soon ensured that it was what he thought, as distinguishing characteristics began to form, filling in every detail for the combatants, buildings, and everything else in the picture. It was Veritas, and they were fighting for the town. It was a terrible sight for him, his brethren being slaughtered as much as the citizens. Righteous fury guiding him, he leaped up onto the ledge of the pool, and dived in. Apparently, the Gods were punishing him, because the pool wasn't even an inch deep. He fell directly on his face, and made a small splash as the rest of his body landed. He got up, a bit stunned, and looked back into the pool, but it's water was disturbed, and when it returned to its normal, calm state, the vision was gone. Orisian kneeled before the pool and sent a prayer for Remor, the citizens, and the King. He stayed like this for a long while before he heard a ringing coming from the pool, steadily increasing in volume. As he stepped back up to the pool he saw another figure, that of a woman, come into shape. As the features were added, he noticed that this wasn't a normal human, if not for the fact that her skin was a dark blue, she had wings, a horn, and flowing hair that copied the stars of the night. He briefly thought that the Gods were playing tricks on him as he took a step back, but a darker thought played his emotions. He contemplated the possibility of demons. The thought that he had been torn off course from heaven, and thrown into hell. If this was hell however, it was nothing like the stories he had been told of. Mercenaries finding the door to the Underworld in a cave somewhere near the docks, peasants seeing a gateway opened in the night, or even trustworthy scholars claiming to have communicated with malevolent spirits. None of them were anything like what he saw before him, save for cavern. He didn't know what to think. He didn't even have the knowledge required to panic, nor the calm required for rational thinking. His mind was filled with the thoughts of demons, Gods, and even hostile magic users from other parts of the world. But then he remembered the "locker" he heard about as he was tossed into the ocean. Maybe this was it. After forcing himself out of the cave, he found that he was surrounded by a dark forest, filled with strange trees and plants, nothing like the small, green forests Remor had. He knew that he wasn't anywhere near his home, his king, or his kinsmen. But that reality only served to urge him forward. His return would be glorious, and songs would be sung of how he and those still loyal to the True King held off the cowards of the seas. He would make sure of it. Pushing his way through brambles and thick bushes, he looked for an end to the trees, and upon finding none, he pushed himself even harder, loyal determination and the perseverance of a true Kingsman giving him the strength that led him to find a small door in the center of a tree. Orisian stopped dead in his tracks, hoping he wasn't heard, but after a minute's thought, figured that the Gods wanted him to be seen, and approached the door. It took him a few minutes to do anything besides stand there, listening to whatever he could hear that was coming from inside the tree. But after hearing nothing, he decided to knock, three, loud times. It only took a few seconds, but once the door was opened, he was greeted to a woman with her hair going straight down the middle of her head, ears pierced with large golden earrings, grey skin with darker grey - or light black - stripes across her visible form, with strange wooden carvings as clothing. Immense jewelry covered her arms, and even one ankle. Her look of surprise quickly turned to one of concern, as she spoke in a voice as mystic as it was powerful. "Please, enter my home quickly friend, so that I may help your troubles come to an end." Her friendliness and worry for his well being made him more than just a little suspicious, but he put his faith in the Gods and entered, no trace of fear, or thankfulness showing on his face. She closed the door behind him and quickly moved to a boiling pot in the middle of the small room, which was adorned with very strange looking wooden carvings, many of them depicting human-like faces, but oddly distorted. As she gathered a few items from shelves lining one side of the wall and put them into the cauldron, it began to bubble over before she tossed in a few specks of a greenish dust, after which it began to calm down. "A question I must ask you, how did you come by those many wounds?" Orisian realized he had forgotten to effectively stop the bleeding, and cleanse the wounds. He looked down at himself, and found his makeshift bandages had been almost completely torn from his body, and among the bullet holes covering it, he had developed a legion of scratches. He let out a long, weary sigh, before he answered. "War." The strange woman looked at him for a long while, before she replied with a cautious, but exploratory statement, that implied she had no idea of what went on around the world. "A war in Equestria will not end with a pleased Celestia. A brutal conflict-" "Equestria?" Orisian had never heard of the place. No traveling merchant, scholar, or explorer had ever said anything about an 'Equestria'. But then again, they had never shared many stories that he was interested in listening to. The woman looked at him like he was a newborn baby who had spoken its first words already. "A strange question to use, for one who doesn't look confused. Another question i must ask, what strife has filled your past?" Orisian was beginning to get annoyed at how she spoke in rhymes, but ignored it and tried to continue the conversation. "A strange question to ask someone you just met." The woman seemed amused at this, but before she could say anything, the cauldron began to steam. A lot. The room was filled with a warm mist as she retrieved a cup and some cloth from one of the shelves, filled the cup with the liquid and wetted the cloth before giving both to Orisian. "A healing brew, made only for you." Orisian looked at the liquid, which was a dark red color, before putting the cup to his lips, and drinking. It was a pleasant taste, the kind you'd expect from poisoned food. After he drank all of it, he looked at the cloth, and then back to the woman. "A gentle application to your injuries, is like sitting under a healing tree." After having said that, she went to a drawer by her bed, and retrieved a showl from it. Orisian watched her movements, which were smooth and fluid, the perfection of an elder, yet she didn't seem nearly as old as he was. He began rubbing the cloth along his arm, and immediately the warmth transferred from the cloth directly to his muscles, resulting in a relaxing feeling that instantly removed any pain he had from the wounds that ran across his arm. After all he had been through, this was the best feeling that had physically happened to him. "I believe you need assistance from a clothes maker, from Ponyville I will bring a very skilled tailor." He stopped her before she could make it to the door, asking for her name. "Zecora is the information you seek, please do not be afraid to speak." "Well then, there is one more question I want to ask, how far away is Remor, and which direction do I start moving?" Zecora's blank face made Orisian's heart quicken, and her response made it stop. "Of Remor I do not know, but I may know someone who can give hope." "Ah. Then there's only a chance?" "Have faith my friend, for there is only a chance at the end." At the mention of faith, Orisian remembered he was a Kingsman, and his spirits went higher than the heavens. He let out a long, rough laugh. "Then faith it is! My thanks, friend, but I wish I didn't have to wait. Mind if I go with you?" "The passing of time, only serves to finish the God's design." After saying that, she looked him up and down, and after doing the same, he realized he was still in very bad shape, and let her get to the door.