The Raid on Ravenwing Bog Part 1
By: TheSilverhyena
WARNING! Contains:: Strong Language, Violence, Graphic Description of Gore, Betrayals afoot, and an Insane, Bloodthirsty Young Halfling Girl... with a Few Unlikely Friends.
'It is the height of the Galactic War. Both the G.S.A. and Nightmare Enterprises have suffered heavy casualties, but unlike our adversary, my soldiers aren't spawned from sorcery. My second in command and my best friend, is still missing in action, there's been no word or sign of him for months. The demon beasts have already restored their numbers, and at an alarming rate. But this war isn't lost yet. I've received intelligence of a place where the enemy is rebirthing his demon army, on a distant planet called Horva. It is always the leaders who are forced to make the hard decisions: if we are to raid this mysterious fortress, it would mean calling off the search for my friend, for I'll need every soldier under my command that I can spare. I've made my decision, with a heavy heart, I cannot risk trading the lives of many for the life of one... Sir Meta Knight... please forgive me.'
The Turmoil of Sir Arthur
*Outside the Ravenwing Bog Lunatic Asylum*
If the G.S.A. had to give Nightmare Enterprises points for anything, it would be their creativity and ingenuity. A place filled with test subjects that the world had abandoned and wouldn't miss in the middle of a muggy, slimy, stink ridden, insect, and undead infested bog that no one in their right mind would want to venture into; pretty clever.
The stone walls surrounding the place were thick, well maintained, and topped with razor wire to prevent any would-be fence jumpers. There were very few entrances, save the obvious one right up front. Within these well-fortified walls was the target, a small, square-shaped keep. Well, actually it may have been a keep at one time, but it had since been converted into an asylum for the mentally, criminally and in all other ways insane. Cries of pain and anguish echoed throughout the swamp, originating from that house of horrors, creating an eerie atmosphere. A heavy feeling hung heavy in the air, or perhaps it was just the stink of waterlogged plants and rotting flesh.
Going in for a full, frontal assault in their current condition would have been suicide, not to mention put many potential innocent lives at risk. This called for a sneak attack on the ground, which meant trudging through the dank, murky swamp on foot to hide their presence. The leader of the small attack force, who looked like nothing more then a green puffball in (once upon a time, maybe) gleaming, gold armor and white cloak, turned back to face the rest of his group. There were about twenty foot soldiers, three more armored and cloaked puffballs like himself, one green with a red mohawk loading a hunting crossbow, another who was light teal blue carrying a battle ax with a medic cross on the back of his cape, and the last one who was magenta in color with a dark red ponytail, armed with a sword and crossbow himself. Each warrior had a star shaped badge pinned on one of their shoulder guards. Then there was their guide who helped lead them here, the one who dropped the tip in the first place.
The mysterious man who had assisted the G.S.A. as of yet was a disgruntled employee of the asylum, he had told Sir Arthur himself when they met on the boarders of the bog. Well, perhaps "man" was the wrong word, he was actually a member of a humanoid race called a halfling, which were usually considered short, just not around puffballs, it seemed. At only half the size of a human, he was still the tall one in the group. He had messy black hair, even on the tops of his bare feet, several gold piercings in his ears and even a few on his face, and he always had this sly, fox-like grin. What was more, he seemed incredibly leery of Sir Dragato and his prized silver blade. Since his "resignation" from the employ of Nightmare Enterprises, he had since dumped his white orderly uniform and didn't wear much besides a witty graphic t-shirt and plain trousers. Despite it being a time of war, the guy didn't seem to worried about personal protection, seeing as he didn't even carry any weapons, let alone wear any armor. Firekreg was very calm and collected, just standing there smoking a cigarette while they made their plans.
"How do we know you're not leading us into a trap, Firekreg?" Sir Arthur demanded, taking a moment to swat at one of the insects trying to burrow it's way under his armor, "You have, after all, admitted to not only be a part of Nightmare Enterprises but also a thief."
Their halfing guide let out a mock gasp, giving his new pals from the G.S.A. a shocked expression, "What? You still don't trust me? Not even after I helped you kill off those zombies back there? Oh... I'm hurt, my good sir knight."
"Good way to cover your true intentions, I should think." muttered the blue puffball, under his breath, "Help us kill off a few minor demon beasts... with the knife you stole right off my belt. I wonder what else you'd be willing to swipe from us."
It wasn't exactly much of a secret that none of the G.S.A. soldiers could ever fully trust a Nightmare Enterprises turncoat. Firekreg just scoffed to himself, his keen ears picking up on the remark, 'oh trust me, if I wanted to kill you... you'd be dead.'
"You're still breathing, aren't you, Nonny'?" snorted the green puffball with the crossbow as he slowly approached the front gates to the asylum, "Hey Dragato, do you think you could-?" he was suddenly cut off by two things happening at once.
"Not that way, Falspar!" Firekreg growled, growing more and more irritated with this group of soldiers by the minute.
Okay, so that was the first thing, the second thing was the large cluster of ravenous zombies, like the ones they killed earlier, pressing themselves against the gates and reaching out with their clawed, grotesque hands to grab the tasty little morsel that willingly delivered himself to them.
"SHIT!" Falspar yelped, jumping back out of range of the snarling fiends.
"I told you, not through the front door!" Firekreg sighed, flicking his cigarette butt into the zombie cluster, "Did I not say that?" he asked, looking back to Nonsurat and Dragato with a shrug.
Knights! It was often difficult to get them to shift gears and think like a thief for once! To much honor and nobility wasn't good for the soul... or a long life for that matter.
"To be fair, he did warn us about the zombies inside the compound." Dragato pointed out, cringing as more and more of the fiends gathered at the gates, "Nasty things I understand. Never seen one up close until now. Thought they were just an urban myth. One bite, and you become one."
"Care to test your theory, Dragato?" Falspar asked in a joking tone, "Just give one of em' a pat on the head and find out."
Sir Dragato turned to his joking companion with an annoyed expression beneath his mask. Just like the bard to crack stupid jokes at a time like this.
"You first." Dragato answered.
"Hmph, the zombies aren't what bother me." Firekreg mentioned.
"Pfttt... you mean you're not scared of a walking undead virus?" Falspar snorted, his gaze shifting back to the gates where the ravenous horde snarled and groaned.
"Nope. It's their creator and his pal I'm scared of." Firekreg muttered to himself with a shudder.
Nervously, Firekreg looked up to one of the dimly lit towers. All the mad doctor had to do was look outside and see all his fiends gathering near the front gate to realize that they had guests, unwanted guests at that. After asking Sir Arthur, politely, to gather up his troops, Firekreg led the small task force around the back of the fortress. It was a rather difficult and unpleasent hike, cutting through the branches, brambles, and trudging through the water and mud.
"So... how exactly did you get out of here-" Sir Arthur asked, pausing to cut a thorny bush out of their way, "-without incident?"
"Well, let's just say I have my ways," Firekreg answered, stepping on what may have been a canine-like track in the mud, "plus I didn't have thirty soldiers traipsing behind me, either." he added, in a low mutter.
Meanwhile, Sir Nonsurat had a few words to say to his other two companions, in a low tone, mind you, "I still don't really trust that guy. He's been... secretive, and I don't think he's told us everything. You ask me, he's hiding something. Just look at him."
"Hmmm, I don't know, I kind of like him." Falspar shrugged, smirking, "He let me bum a cigarette off him too."
"You would, Falspar." Dragato sighed, shaking his head.
"How can we trust someone who used to torture innocent people and turn them into demon beasts?!" Nonsurat asked, in a low whisper.
Firekreg stopped and turned around upon overhearing that remark, "Hey... I had nothing to do with that! That... that was all on Knarks and his buddy! When I found out about what exactly they were doing, that's when I ran... and came and found you! Remember, you guys wouldn't even KNOW about this place had it not been for me!" he retorted.
For a brief moment, the halfling's eyes took on a strange, animalistic sheen, so quickly that it was easy to miss. Firekreg calmed himself down, though his annoyance at Nonsurat's accusation could still be felt by those around him.
"So... zombies wandering around in the compound and demon beasts didn't raise any red flags right away?" Sir Dragato inquired.
"Ummm... no, not for the first week or so, anyways. They usually just... left me alone. I've only been here for three weeks! Okay?! War is hell and the demon beasts and undead work as a great 'KEEP OUT' sign. Besides, I needed the paycheck."
Arthur made a calming gesture towards his officers. While he may have had his own doubts about Firekreg, especially with all the holes left unfilled in his stories, he had led them safely this far. Finally, the group came to a stop in front of an old sewer drain set into the surrounding wall that came from the asylum fortress. If it was possible for the smell to get any worse, it was, causing a few of the foot soldiers to loose their last meals.
"Well, I know it's not pretty, but-HEY!" Firekreg yelped, as he reached to open up the previously loosened drainage grate, " Fuck me! That wasn't there when I left!"
"No thanks, you're not my type." Sir Falspar muttered, taking a look down the drain.
Bogged down in the muck and Gods-know-what-else were two more snarling zombies, mindlessly reaching out with their hands, trying to grab at the intruders.
"Sir Falspar, Sir Dragato, if you please." Sir Arthur requested, stepping back.
"On it, boss." Falspar said, sounding far too cheery given their circumstances.
He and Dragato took aim and each fired a bolt from their crossbows into the fiend's heads, killing them instantly. Once they were sure they were dead, Firekreg, Falspar, and Dragato pulled the dead bodies out of the sludge to make room for their unit to get inside.
"I recognize these people..." Firekreg mentioned, bending down to examine the bodies, "Charlotte and Drakeo, they were two of the patients I used to look after, until they mysteriously vanished about a week ago. Guess Dr. Knarks got through with them too." he sighed, fighting to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes, "I just hope he hasn't been able to break her yet... not when we're so close. But she's a fighter."
Firekreg was interrupted from his thoughts at the sound of Dragato and Falspar tearing their crossbow bolts out from the zombies' skulls. What had been going on inside this hellhole had gone on unchecked for too long.
"So, any last minute things we should know about this so-called "mad doctor" and his "pal", as you put it?" Falspar asked, as he reloaded his crossbow.
"The mad doc is a drow elf from the deepest regions of the Underdark. From what I understand, he's a pro at combining science and black sorcery. He's often accompanied by an obnoxious lycanthrope rat named Nasher. Trust me, if you find any rats... just kill the little bastards," Firekreg explained, "As for his friend, there's not much I really know, I've never heard his name. The Doc just calls him 'Your Grace' or somethin'. All I do know is that he's a tall, creepy guy in like, a nice business suit, first you see him then you don't, walks around in the dark wearing these sunglasses all the time. You know, it's a wonder he never ran into a wall."
"Sound like someone we know of, General?" Dragato asked.
Arthur responded with a curt nod, "Nightmare..."
"There's...something else... or rather someone else I should mention," Firekreg sighed, "A friend of mine is in there. Her name's Garna, Garna Riverdale, and I think she could help you."
"How? Who is she?" Sir Dragato inquired.
"Well, she told me about you guys in the G.S.A. Hmph, I at first thought it was all some sort of elaborate joke," Firekreg answered, "Then I did a little research. Garna hears things, pays close attention to details. When I took off... I... I wanted to take her with me, but... she told me to go contact and find you. If I'm missing for a few days, they'll think nothing of it, I cashed out my leave of absence... and bribed a few guards. But if Garna were to disappear, there'd be demon beasts crawling all over this bog and we'd never get the opportunity we have right now." he continued, "I told her four days, I'd be back in four days with a G.S.A. raiding party to put an end to this hellhole. Though if I know Garna, she's been keeping track, and I have a hunch there will be few less guards and demon beasts to contend with once we're inside. -sigh- At first, I thought her claims of torture and demon beast mutation were the ravings of a lunatic mind. I thought she got most of her injuries from the guards she fought and attempted to kill. Honestly... I've been a lousy friend to her... but tonight, I'm going to set things right!"
"Firekreg, how do you know this Garna actually considers you her friend?" Nonsurat asked curiously.
Firekreg shrugged and answered, "Simple. I was the only member of the staff she didn't attempt to kill."
Upon hearing that, the G.S.A. soldiers took one last glance at their current surroundings before facing the claustrophobic conditions of the narrow sewer tunnel before them. This... wasn't going to be pretty.
"This tunnel runs under the entire asylum, though I came out through the morgue myself. It'd probably be a good idea to start from the basement anyways and work your way up. With any luck, you'll put an end to Mister Tall, Dark, and Scary by the end of the night." Firekreg quipped, flashing another one of his sly grins, "Well, come on. It's really not THAT bad in here, besides, you all stink to high heaven anyways after traipsing around in the bog for two hours!"
While General Arthur, Nonsurat, and Dragato groaned with annoyance, Falspar just snorted out a laugh, "He's got a point, you know."
"One Falspar was enough trouble, now I've got twins!" Sir Arthur muttered to himself, following after Firekreg.
If anything else, the G.S.A. General could count this as the second most disgusting thing he had ever had to do, considering there was always still room at the top for number one. Now, call it a hunch, Star Warrior's intuition, or just being plain old paranoid, but no one in that squadron could shake this feeling lurking over them, a feeling like they were being watched, and not just by mindless zombies or low ranking demon beasts... no... this felt worse.
Unseen upon the thick, stoney wall, a large, gray rat pressed himself down into the stone as far as he could, to avoid being detected. Nervously, the fiend fiddled with the spiked collar around his neck, watching as Firekreg led the G.S.A. soldiers through the back door.
"Shit... the boss is gonna need to know about this!" the rat muttered to himself as he scurried away, "I always wanted an excuse to kill that fucking fox, and now, I'll have it!"
*Somewhere in the Asylum, Laboratory/Chamber of Horrors*
Pained screams echoed throughout the asylum's halls, originating from the main laboratory on the second floor. Screams? No, no, that would be wrong, more like death threats and snarls. But not from where one might have expected them from. They came from a young, black-haired girl, a member of the same race as Firekreg, who was currently being wrestled back into chains by a cruel, yet somehow handsome drow elf. Judging by the important looking lab coat he was wearing and the way he bossed everyone else around, this must have been the doctor in charge.
"Apparently... the Fusion Rage Serum works." the drow grunted to himself, pain straining his own voice as he pulled the broken syringe that was imbedded in his hand out, whilst shoving his wild and aggressive prisoner back into the guards that had gathered near the doors, "The more pain she feels, the more aggressive she'll become. Watch yourselves... idiots!"
Despite a gaunt appearance and the fresh wounds on her arms and face, along with a rather nasty gash across her midsection, that young halfling girl was putting up one hell of a fight. This wasn't the first time either, as while she struggled, more scars and injuries were revealed beneath the torn and filthy rags she wore. Fierce, emerald green eyes glared up towards the drow elf scientist, before the most sinister and evil of grins crossed her face.
"I'm going... to enjoy putting it between your eyes next!" she hissed.
"Take her back to her cage... and make sure she STAYS there!" the drow ordered, emphasizing that last part for good measure, before turning away to oversee the damaged mess that his laboratory had become after dealing with this most unruly patient.
"Yes Dr. Knarks." grunted one of the guards.
It took no less then three guards, two human, one demon beast, to drag the struggling girl out. Her hatred-filled snarls could still be heard throughout the halls. Dr. Knarks took in a deep sigh, waving his good hand in a somatic gesture over his wounded hand, curing himself of his injury. He was always one that was up for a good challenge, and that young girl was certainly a tough nut to crack. For three years, he had been poking, prodding, and testing various tortures, serums, and viruses concocted in conjunction with Nightmare Enterprises on her, yet while others fell prey within hours, she refused to give in. Her resilience and tolerance was unlike anything he had seen before.
"Perhaps I'm going about this the wrong way with Patient 13, Garna Riverdale," Dr. Knarks mused to himself, logging some of his new found data into the computer on the desk, "If I can isolate and harness where her resilience comes from, it could potentially be used to create stronger, more powerful demon beasts for the war."
He paused for a minute, thinking hard. Being the meticulous sort, Dr. Knarks knew when something was missing, especially if it was an inmate attempting to mount an escape or a member of the staff slacking off. Firekreg had had his days off and he had yet to report for duty, that wasn't like him.
The mad doctor was interrupted from his thoughts by the frantic shouting of his name: great, what was it now?! With a growl, he whipped around the face the door, his hard, cruel red gaze striking the fear of the Dark Gods themselves into the lowly demon beast that came to a stop in front of the open lab door.
The beast in question, a hell hound, let out a soft whimper, knowing full well that Dr. Knarks had done away with the last messenger that came with bad news, horribly.
"This better be good..."
"Doctor... y-you... ummm... look outside, the courtyard!" the hell hound whimpered, backing away to let Dr. Knarks past, "W-we have intruders o-on premiss."
The two of them walked down the poorly lit halls, completely disregarding the guards as they dragged inmates in and out of their cells for "treatments". There was something else nipping at his attention. Dr. Knarks realized, that he and the messenger were not the only ones whose curiosity had been aroused.
"Your Grace." Dr. Knarks hissed, bowing his head ever so slightly as a tall, dark figure materialized beside him.
"I trust you're putting my money too good use, Doctor." Nightmare inquired, cutting right to the chase.
His cold, dark, slithering voice only added to the veil of fear that surrounded him.
"The most recent shipment of enhanced demon beasts are already on their way to the front lines. I have also finalized the drafts for new creations. They're ready for cloning and transmutation as soon as you're ready." Dr. Knarks stated, stopping in front of a barred window, overlooking the courtyard from the second floor.
"Excellent, doctor. I chose well to put my faith in you."
"By the way, Your Grace, what happened to your little "Side Project" you had been working on?" the mad doctor asked, nonchalantly.
"Oh that, it was a failure... so I put it where it belongs." Nightmare growled, darkly, "I seem to be having those an awful lot, lately." he added to himself in a low, annoyed mutter.
Dr. Knarks glanced to his dark, suit-clad financier, then back to the courtyard, particularly the gates.
"I thought you ought to know, doctor, Your Grace." The hell hound whimpered, meekly.
Indeed, the zombies that roamed the grounds outside were gathered around the front gates. There was only one reason for them to do so: intruders! Some rebels that had discovered this place by accident had attempted to break in before, granted, they were now part of the hoard of flesh eating undead lurking about outside now, but there was just something weighing deep within the mad doctor's mind that was telling him things were about to go wrong, very fast. Oh, how sometimes he hated being right!
What Dr. Knarks had initially put off as the usual screams and hollers of lunatics became something far, far worse. On the way back to his office, the drow doctor and Nightmare stopped at the top of the stairway leading down into the small reception area, noticing something on the floor that did not belong there. First, there were the trails of blood leading down the stairs, then there was the pool of blood at the bottom, where three very familiar bodies and a set of restraint chains had been dumped. Upon closer inspection, these were the same guards that had been charged with taking Patient 13 back to her cell. Two of them were stone cold dead, while the last one was barely clinging to life.
"What the-?" Nightmare hissed, adjusting his dark glasses just enough so that he could evaluate the damage with his own, blood-red gaze.
"D-doctor... -cough-... sir... Garna... s-s-s-she... she had a... -cough, cough- knife... on her... s-she struck... so fast... took u-us by surprise." the guard rasped struggling to drag himself out of the pool of blood and bodies, "I-I'm hurt r-r-real bad, doctor -cough, cough- I... I think I'm dying."
Dr. Knarks just narrowed his hard, red glare, growling in the back of his throat, "Then continue dying." he groaned, with an annoyed tone before wrapping his hand around the human's neck and snapping it, "Devilishly hard to find good help these days, you know."
The dark elf''s cold solution to the problem was met with an agreeing nod from Nightmare. This meant that Garna was running about the asylum, probably causing havoc like she had the last time she attempted escape!
The hell hound messenger that had been trailing along with his masters shrank back, tucking his short stub of a tail between his legs and flattening his ears against his head. But, before orders could be given, both Dr. Knarks and Nightmare were interrupted by an obnoxious voice shouting throughout the corridors.
"STAR WARRIORS! STAR WARRIORS HERE! FUCK ME WITH A RAKE! FUCKING STAR WARRIORS!"
"Nasher!" Dr. Knarks called out, kneeling down for the rat that scampered across the ground.
The rat was almost out of breath, as he panted heavily once perched on his master's shoulders.
"Star Warriors? Here? How the hell did they find us?!" Nightmare growled, his form wavering slightly in his anger, "This place is under the protection of dark magic and there's never been an escape!"
Nasher glared up at the dark lord, then turned back to Dr. Knarks, "It was HIM! Firekreg, that traitorous fox! That fucking fox led them here!"
Dr. Knarks felt his blood run cold when he heard those words: that would explain a lot! At least now he knew where Firekreg had been, or at least, what he had been up too.
"I knew that creature was too good to be true! DAMN IT!"
"I told you boss, I told you, never trust those fucking foxes, or any dogs for that matter!" Nasher snipped, "They cannot be trusted! Ooooohhhhh, how I want to rend him limb from limb right now!"
With that exclamation, the rat leaped off of Dr. Knarks' shoulder, greatly enlarging in size as he did, taking the form of a monstrous wererat. Among the endless screeching of Nasher's ranting and cursing, the sound of steel clashing and battle cries could be heard from further inside the asylum.
"Go on, Nasher... take no prisoners this time. Kill them all!" Dr. Knarks ordered, as a dark aura began to form around his hands.
"Yeah-haha! I'm gonna bag me some Star Warriors and a traitorous little fox tonight!" Nasher exclaimed, scampering off to gather more of the guards and demon beasts, "Come on bitches! We've got a traitor to kill!"
"Dr. Knarks, if we are breached and this location compromised, then we cannot risk any of the information we have here falling into the hands of the G.S.A." Nightmare warned.
Dr. Knarks nodded in agreement, before barking an order to his hell hound, "Sound the alarm, alert the guards and demon beasts that there are G.S.A. soldiers in the asylum and a patient is loose. Kill them on sight!" he growled, as he and Nightmare made their way to his office with all haste.
It wasn't until shortly after he had given that order and his messenger was already en-route to spread the word and relay orders, did both Dr. Knarks and Nightmare realize that someone had evidently let a large portion of inmates and unfinished demon beasts out of their cells, which were now running amok and creating more chaos. With an annoyed snarl, Dr. Knarks let loose a pulse of raw, dark magic, killing two unlucky escaped inmates with precise hits to the chest.
"GET THOSE PRISONERS BACK INTO THEIR CAGES AND FIND THOSE STAR WARRIORS NOW! FIND PATIENT 13 AND KILL HER!" Nightmare snapped, shoving another one of the crazies that had attempted to tackle him into the stone wall with a powerful, telekinetic force.
"Fuck it all, I'm going to tempt fate... can this night possibly get any worse?" Dr. Knarks grumbled to himself.
Nightmare remained silent, though a smile did cross his face, if only for a brief moment. Naturally, the Dark Overlord always came equipped with a "Plan B", though it would involve screwing a few people over. Not that he was one to give a damn, anyways.
'Oh... oh... I would not tempt fate in such a way, my not-so-good-doctor. It always has a way of... showing itself.'
*Somewhere in the Asylum, Second Floor*
Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, the loose inmate, Garna, quietly twirled a ring of keys around her finger, letting out a soft cackle. With all the noise and commotion going on with the patients she had set loose, it left her free to carry on with her plan. Actually, there wasn't really much of a plan, Garna was just sort of making all of this up on the fly. So far, it had been working, but Garna knew that she would need more then just that stolen knife. If the guards hadn't found her little stash she had tucked away from her last failed escape attempt, there would be a chance that by the time this night was done, she'd be free of this hellhole. With the large pack of zombies outside, going out the front door was out of the question, and it always paid to be prepared for what horrors lay in wait outside these cold, stone walls.
Her hands were covered in blood from the guards she had killed, and there were now a few more bodies littering the corridors thanks to her. From down below, Garna had already heard the panicked cries and alarms going off: Star Warriors, as she heard Nasher cry out. Sometimes, she would hear Dr. Knarks and his shady companion talk about them. Whoever or whatever they were, these Star Warriors were no friends of the Doctor: all the better for Garna. Firekreg had pulled through!
"Thank you, Firekreg. I knew... I could count on you." she whispered to herself, a smirk spreading across her face, "Four days... hehehe! Cute little foxy can be trusted it seems. I don't have to kill him after all."
So far, so good. Well, as far as the skulking about went. The constant ducking in and out of rooms, behind doors, and concealment in the shadows hadn't been doing her injuries a whole lot of good. It wasn't just the blood of guards and demon beasts covering Garna's hands and clothes, her own blood started seeping through the thin, ragged patient robes, most noticeably the ugly gash on her side. Not only would it slow her down, but some nosy demon beast might smell the blood and track her down. One hand holding onto her side and the other still clinging to her knife, Garna trudged on through the asylum's maze of hallways, making her way to a small, hardly occupied room towards the back of the keep.
The first thing one might notice was the smell: it was one of the most horrendous smelling places in the entire asylum, save for the sewers or even the kitchen, perhaps. This particular room was used to process the asylum's refuse (among other things). A turn of the key, and Garna was inside. There wasn't exactly much to this room, just an old, worn out wooden floor and large pile of trash shoved against the side of the wall and a small locked door. According to Firekreg, there was a garbage chute on the other side of that door. At first, it would sound like a great place to mount an escape, but apparently the last prisoner that tried using that tactic found himself neck deep in mucky bog water and hungry zombies. But, that was not why Garna was here.
Still grasping her side with one hand, Garna shifted a few piles of trash off of a particular set of loose floorboards. Sighing with relief, the halfling girl grabbed the small backpack out of the concealed hideaway along with a crowbar and set of throwing knives. Daring a glance over her shoulder, Garna looked through the backpack, taking out a small, crudely patched together, and lightweight set of leather body armor, change of clothes, lock picks and thieving tools, and a crude first aid kit. A sly smile flashed across the young halfling's face as she came across the most important piece of her stolen loot, an old, tattered, book that had several ill fitting, loose, scribbled on pieces of paper stuffed inside it.
"I'll get you out in the open, don't you worry. Me and Firekreg, we'll do it." she muttered, to no one in particular.
With a pained grunt, Garna tore off her tattered rags, using them to staunch the bleeding. She backed up against the other wall, keeping the crowbar within easy reach should there be any interruptions. Then came the hard part: Garna knew she would have to work fast, and she couldn't stay in here for too long, lest infection set in. She emptied the contents of her first aid kit beside her, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, roll of gauze, and a needle and thread. Well, here goes nothing.
The little thief was barely able to stifle herself when she poured the rubbing alcohol over her side. A shock wave of pain lanced throughout her body, causing her to shake violently. Taking in a few deep breaths and spitting out a few curses, she sterilized the surgeon's needle next and started stitching up her own injury. Having been in close proximity to a doctor, even a medical sadist like Dr. Knarks, she had paid close attention on how to stitch up an injury. Gasping with pain and fighting the urge to throw up, Garna tore off the last of her patient robe and changed into the set of clothes and armor that she had been hiding for the last few months.
The noises of the battle raging in the asylum started to get closer and closer. It was time to move on. Her adrenaline was pumped, no turning back now, either she would escape tonight, or die trying. But, when Garna picked up her belongings and turned to leave, it was only then did she realize that she had not been alone in this room. The trash pile on the other side of the room shifted and a soft whimpering could be heard. Preparing for some sort of horrible demon beast, or worse, Nasher perhaps, to leap out of the rubbish, Garna took her crowbar in one hand, knife in the other, and shifted the refuse aside, ready to drive her new weapons into whatever beast lay in wait... or at least that's what she thought at first.
"What-what the...?" she muttered to herself, eyes wide.
Not a monster... at least, it didn't really look like one. But, apparently someone thought it was garbage. It was a small creature, by the looks of it, just a puppy. Garna had seen these things before, sometimes Dr. Knarks would work with them. Wolfwraths they were called, if memory serves. But, weren't they usually red? It looked like a wolf, bluish gray in color with six nubbs along it's back and white gem set into it's forehead. Gentle, blue eyes stared up at Garna, pleading for mercy. The poor beast's muzzle and clawed paws had been bound: someone had just left this poor creature here too die!
"You t-too, huh?" Garna asked, cringing with pain while bringing her knife closer to the frightened creature.
Most people would have just assumed the creature to be a demon beast and kill it there and now. Garna, however, was not most people. She used her knife, cutting the bindings on the little pup's legs and muzzle, setting him free. There wasn't much time to bond with her new friend, save for scraping a few chunks of trash off of him, as a few unwanted "guests" had stumbled upon the two of them. Two guards, accompanied by an angry hell hound. Garna leaped back in surprise, letting out an angry hiss and taking on a defensive stance. She was cornered, no where to run, save the door she came in through. That was when she was at her most dangerous!
"It's her!" exclaimed one of the guards, as he drew his sword.
His partner took out a hand held taser, a wicked grin spreading across his face. The hell hound in between them let out a low snarl, his gaze fixed on the weakened demon beast pup that accompanied their little escapee.
"The boss said to just kill her!" snorted the first of the two guards.
"No reason why we can't have a little fun, first." retorted 'Taser Man'.
At that remark, Garna's new friend let out a low growl of his own, the fur on his hackles and ruff poofing out in an attempt to make himself look bigger and more threatening. For such an adorable ball of fluff, the little wolfwrath pup had some pretty sharp teeth in his mouth.
"Hahaha... what's this? A stuffed animal? Go on boy, take them down!" ordered the first guard, setting his beast on Garna.
The back of the hell hound's throat glowed with red hot embers right before it loosened a jet of flames at Garna. In a split second, Garna dodged to the side, throwing her knife into the fiend's chest, resulting in a sharp, pained yelp. There was a flash of fire, and the beast was gone. But there wasn't much time to celebrate, the fire from the hell hound was quickly spreading through the refuse in the room, causing it to fill up with smoke, making breathing extremely difficult.
Knowing that there was still a job to be done, the two remaining guards rushed in. The man with the taser was the first to attack, attempting to jab his weapon into the halfling. He missed, stumbled around in the smoke for a bit, right up until a sharp strike to the back of his knee brought him to the ground with a cry of pain. Desperately, he looked around for his partner, but that guy was in no shape to help him out.
"Jared!"
His cries for help were silenced by two things: first one was the crowbar to the back of his skull, the second, was the snarling coming from the small wolfwrath pup as it released a jet of fire from it's own mouth, then leaped on top of the other guard and proceeded to use him as a chew toy. Garna could only take a few seconds of solace, as the billowing smoke that now engulfed the entire room made breathing near impossible. She coughed violently, dropping to her hands and knees. Disoriented, she struggled to find her way out.
Gasping for air, Garna reached out, her hand grabbing onto something furry. That wolfwrath! The small creature let out a muffled yip, then proceeded to guide Garna out of the smoke filled room and into the hall way. Now, the young girl couldn't have been certain, but she could have sworn that guard the wolfwrath mauled was under some sort of paralysis, as those burns and wounds, while painful, were not life threatening. Yet still, he was unmoving, just laying there on the floor as the smoke and fumes engulfed him.
Once Garna was safely out of the room, the wolfwrath dashed back inside, inhaling the smoke and flames as fast as it could. Now finally able to catch her breath, Garna could see that the creature was healing itself, feeding on the fire, yet he had made sure to get her out before she suffocated. When the little beast returned, he had something in his mouth, which he promptly dropped at Garna's feet: it was the taser.
"Y-you... you -cough- saved my life... t-thank you." Garna rasped, reaching out and stroking the pup's ears, "Before I was imprisoned here... I had a little stuffed... wolf I -groan- loved... he was my friend... his name was Roaren."
She wasn't sure if it was just voices in her head or the lingering effects of having chemical cocktails tested upon her or real, true words, but Garna had distinctly heard her young wolfwrath friend say 'Thank you' back.
She didn't have long to savor such a touching moment. Pain crept throughout every inch of her body and the smell of blood and burned flesh was enough to drive her into a frenzy. With a snarl, she snatched up the taser and slung the bloody crowbar over her shoulder. Her face twisted into an insane smile as she started down the corridor, whistling for her wolfwrath companion to follow. Garna held her knife in her teeth, using her free hand to comb her long, messy hair back. With a cackle, she licked the blood off of the blade, preparing it for the next target.
"So Knarksy... you... you wanted to see if you could... use pain... as a drive for ferocity? Well... you've succeeded... and now... we're going to use it kill you and all your fucking demons!" Garna cackled to herself, "Come on... Roaren, Firekreg's waiting."
With that, Garna started back down the corridor. The noises from the battle were getting closer and louder, and it was only a matter of time before she too was engulfed in the flurry, say, roughly ten seconds, seeing as a small cluster of demon beasts came racing down the hall in a mad panic.
*To Be Continued*
Author's Notes:: This is set sometime before the events of IYNMs. Kinda-sorta a prequel... maybe? I really wanted to A: Write Garna as a child, and B: try my hand at writing the other puffball warriors from Meta Knight's unit.
As you ought to know if you've poked around my artwork or have read up to a certain point in In your Nightmares, you know Garna's kinda screwed up in the head. This is partially why. She had always been a nutcase from the start and it only got worse once she was imprisoned in the asylum. Garna was never given the chance to have an actual childhood nor was she ever really given instruction on how to behave around others in civilized setting, which is why she can often come off as being exceptionally childish at times, even once she grew up. For a while, her heart hardened, she trusted very few, and still to this day is not afraid to kill. However, she has a soft spot for strays and rejects and is one to repay kindness that is shown to her. To this day, Garna and Roaren have been inseparable.
I had a lot of fun with Sir Arthur and the other knights as well. Now, since we didn't really get a chance to see them all that much and they were pretty much just glossed over in the anime, I'm taking artistic liberties with these guys. If you don't like it, don't read it, that simple.
Sir Arthur is, of course, the strong, courageous, and wise leader of the G.S.A. His men have nothing but the highest respect and love for him and he always carries with him a regal bearing. He's a no nonsense warrior that would put his life on the line for any one of his men. Honor and Nobility are two things Sir Arthur holds in high regard. Sir Arthur is also one of few who can best Sir Meta Knight with a blade. His Special Ability, granted to him as a Star Warrior, is the power to summon and control Celestial Lighting.
Sir Nonsurat is one of the G.S.A.'s top physicians. While he may try to hide a caring, gentle heart under a tough, thorny barrier, those that take the time to get to know him can see right through it. When in battle or in the operating room, Nonsurat can be described as bossy, but off the clock, he can actually be a fun guy to hang out with, especially if drinking games are involved. Sir Nonsurat takes particular offense to anyone who would misuse the merciful art of healing. Unlike his fellow star warriors, Sir Nonsurat wields a battle ax instead of a sword. His Special Ability is the power to summon and control Ice and Frost.
Sir Dragato can be described as one of the G.S.A.'s biggest brains. He's often found buried up to his ponytail in research when not on the battlefield and is quite the authority on Demon Beasts. The Magenta puffball knight is quite the scholar and studies many different demon beasts in order to find weaknesses and how to defeat them. Dragato is often described as a workaholic by the rest of his friends. Oddly enough, he loves animals and carries a firm belief that not all monsters in the galaxy are evil. After reading about a powerful and dangerous group of creatures called "Lycanthropes", Sir Dragato fashioned a silver blade for himself. His Special Ability is the power to summon and control Wind.
Sir Falspar is the life of the party and is always up for a good time. He's witty, cunning, almost always has a joke or a trick up his sleeve, and is perhaps the least chivalrous of Sir Arthur's Knights. Yet he still carries with him a very kind heart. Sir Falspar is more then just a Knight, he is also a Bard, utilizing the power of his voice to hold sway over friend and foe alike. He always recounts stories in such a way that it's near impossible to turn away. Sir Falspar also has a tricky ability to make a common, everyday sort of suggestion just too irresistible to pass up. Sadly, Sir Arthur and the rest of his friends have gotten used to this little trick and it no longer works on them. Sir Falspar's favorite attack and special ability is the Siren's Scream, which can amplify his manipulating powers even in the heat of heavy combat whilst damaging opponents at the same time.
Firekreg Foxshre. I've done a few drawings with him, but I hadn't really done anything else with him up until now. He's sly and sneaky, but to be fair can still have dimbulb moments. There is something just a little bit off about ol' Firekreg though. Regardless of his faults, he genuinely likes Garna as a person and wants to shut down Ravenwing Bog for good.
Aaaaaaand... as an added bonus... IT'S ROAREN AS A PUPPY!
Disclaimer:: Firekreg Foxshire, Garna Riverdale, Dr. Knarks, and Nasher belong to me.
Kirby, Meta Knight, Sir Arthur, Sir Nonsurat, Sir Dragato, Sir Falspar, and all related characters © Nintendo and HAL Laboratories.