Chapter 2: New Beginnings, New Pals
Amongst the inhabitants of the Windswept Hills, there are few more irksome than those of the Rayne Syndicate. Opportunistic poachers and scavengers, they were the scourge of any who dwelled or traveled amongst the southern islands, and even far to the North-East, where their elite groups plunder the desert.
Which made it strange that their appearances of late have been sporadic and rushed. Where before you could find one of their poacher camps scattered about the area, smoke rising for all to see, now only shells remain empty of all their previous inhabitants.
The first to go were those near the small settlement in the Autumn Forest. Had the inhabitants decided to form a guerilla band to counter the syndicate's expansion?
The answer was no, of course not. Even defended by the vigilant PIDF, the quaint village never even raised a finger in retaliation. In fact, they hadn't even noticed their disappearance until one brave villager ventured into one of their camps to reclaim stolen goods. The confusion spread among the region.
That was, until the local wandering merchant came into town. Hearing the stories, they recalled a certain castaway they had sold material to previously and who occasionally returned with their own items to sell. Items suspiciously belonging to those goons of the Rayne Syndicate.
It didn't take long to put two and two together. A small local legend then began to be perpetuated about a lone vigilante. A hero who goes around punishing criminals, saving captured pals, and even rescuing kidnapped maidens (a fanciful spin no doubt added by an inspired youngster).
A clever merchant started advertising for 'Hero of the Hills' plushies depicting a man dressed like a Robinquil to sell to kids, and the innkeeper started making up stories to beguile and captivate travelers. Overall, an exciting new topic for the small settlement.
But for the Rayne Syndicate, it was anything but exciting…
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"Goddamnit, HIT the bastard!"
Bullets flew through the air as poachers repeatedly sent shot after shot whizzing at their target. Despite their superior numbers, they never seemed to land a single strike. The Castaway moved with practiced ease, using cover when it was available or simply dodging in a jaw-dropping display of acrobatics when there wasn't any. Donning only pelt armor, his defense paled in comparison to the more heavy hitters out there. But its defense didn't seem to matter when you weren't getting hit.
"AGGghuu…" a poacher groaned, hitting the ground and clutching his abdomen as an arrow pierced it, joining the other thugs already defeated. Two more arrows screamed through the air between the groups with pinpoint accuracy, pinning another thug to a wooden wall through their shoulders.
After breaking their formation, the poachers-turned-defenders were forced into an unorganized scuffle, exchanging tactics for desperation. The Castaway jumped the makeshift barricade with ease, switching from his old bow to a close-quarters spear. Another goon was felled with a blunt strike to the head with minimal difficulty.
The largest goon, wielding a huge machine gun, charged him, hoping a counter-attack would give him the initiative. However, even at this close range, the Castaway was unfazed. Sidestepping the rapid-firing bullets, he ran a small circle around the behemoth of a thug, outpacing his turning radius and closing the already-minute gap in a second.
The man swiftly cut the heel tendons of the crusher, causing his legs to buckle with his now-unsupported weight, before jumping on his back and strangling him by the throat with the spear, the momentum pushing the large poacher face-down in the dirt.
Lacking the support or angle necessary for proper resistance and with the man having a seemingly impossible amount of strength for one his size, there was little the crusher could do before he passed out from oxygen deprivation.
The Castaway removed himself from the unconscious syndicate member before backflipping out of the way from a pistol shot meant to strike his side. Turning and hurling the spear in one motion like a javelin, it struck the last syndicate thug still standing in the hand, piercing his muscles and knocking the gun out of his hand.
"huhh…ahh!" the last poacher tried to scramble away holding his injured hand in fear as his assailant sprinted at him, before receiving a bone-rattling kick to the skull courtesy of said castaway.
"..."
The Castaway let out a breath and picked his spear up off the ground, scanning the vicinity briefly before spotting the cage where he knew it would be. It contained a frightened Lifmunk. Holstering his spear, he approached the cage and the pal trapped inside and undid the lock with practiced ease.
The grass-type pal looked at him with big baby eyes as he reached behind him and brought out a blue pal sphere, extending his hand and offering it to the newly freed pal. In his other he held out a small SMG. It understood the offer clearly-
'Come with me. Fight for me'
It didn't hesitate, taking the offered auto gun and throwing itself merely into the ball. The Castaway gave a small smile, before turning to the carnage around him. Half the camp lay dead, the other half unconscious. Or close to it.
He approached the syndicate hunter he had pinned to the wall earlier, still half-heartedly attempting to free himself. The poacher looked up at him as he approached, red and white mask cracked and falling apart.
"Man…what did we ever do to you…?" the hunter seemed dejected, perhaps in his heart he had already resigned himself, "This sucks. Couldn't you have gone for the head at least, make it quicker? This really really hurts," the poacher lamented.
The Castaway shook his head, instead reaching for the triangular device hanging from his pelt. A pal sphere manifested.
A LOT of pal spheres manifests
The syndicate hunter's eyes widened slightly as he realized what was happening to them all.
"Oh…Fuck…"
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With his current task completed, the Castaway exited the camp as he had done with so many others. If his intuition was correct, this last camp was the last one that needed to be immediately eliminated for his next objective to be within reach. Roughly 33 percent of the entire Rayne Syndicate was now under his direct control or otherwise 'out of operation.'
His eyes glanced at the Tower less than a kilometer away, a mere hop and skip.
Feeling inspired, he began his trek with a brisk walk, but as the seconds went by an excitement long since forgotten seemed to burn in his veins, forcing him to pick up his pace more than he usually would. He arrived no less winded than when he started to an unguarded entrance, just as he expected it to be. The Castaway placed his hand upon what he knew to be the doorway and pushed.
The world faded to black and he felt weightless for but a moment before he found himself in a drastically different environment. The moon, or something like it, seems to burn overhead, with oppressive, machinelike stonework looming.
And in front of him, just where he knew she would be, the lone figure of a slim young woman, tapping her fingers along her arm. An impatient and impetuous look on her face
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"Took you long enough. I'm surprised you didn't come for me already, boogeyman that you are."
The Castaway remained silent to her jab, watching her with a scanning expression.
"So, what was it? What could we have possibly done to give you such a vendetta? Do you 'luv all pals' or something?" she mocked.
Silence still reigned, a twinge of irritation beginning to adorn that pretty face.
"Not gonna tell me? Whatever. I didn't really care anyway," she took the opportunity to assess the person in front of her, which all the reports indicated was the one responsible for the dismantling of half her little criminal empire, something not even those bizarre Devouts could do in decades.
Simple pelt armor, seemingly no guns, no shield, no nothing. A completely ordinary outcast, one amongst the many that washed up on its shores. Except for the surprisingly ornate spear, though she felt like she had seen something like it before, so it probably wasn't anything special.
She had no idea what pals he may have though, so best to proceed with caution.
"Maybe you would consider joining us? With you as a lieutenant, surely whatever ill-will we acquired with you could be beaten out of the gang, eye for an eye?" a flat lie, if she was being honest. No way would she let someone as dangerous as this hold any kind of power over her.
The Castaway locked eyes with her and gave a sly grin, stepping down from the entrance pedestal into the Tower proper. A challenge if she ever saw one. Well, that's about what she expected would happen anyway. She couldn't complain if he wanted to make things simpler.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya." she raised her hands and shook her head with closed eyes in a 'what can you do' gesture. She too stepped forward.
"HAH" She yelled, throwing her pal sphere upwards into the air. The crackle of electricity and the smell of ozone filled the arena before a large shadow descended from above.
With a loud crash and epic fanfare, a mighty Grizzbolt, perhaps the mightiest the island had ever seen, landed in the center of the battlefield, giving a loud roar of defiance. The young woman laughed and took the opportunity to climb on its back, positioning herself on its powerful left shoulder.
"I'm Zoe Rayne and this is Grizzbolt!" she introduced, a courtesy she gives all the stupid idiots trying to play the hero and wish to enter the Tower she guards.
"And we're gonna take you down!"
She thought that sounded cool, so they rehearsed it a few times before to get it right. She could feel Grizzbolt's pride practically radiating from her.
The Castaway still had that grin on his face and she could see the anticipation glowing in his eyes. He reached for the pal sphere from behind his back and tossed it in front of him. Zoe tensed up, watching with weariness as the sphere finally erupted and unleashed a legendary…Lifmunk?
'Wut?'
Zoe was caught off-guard by this development, evidenced by her slack-jawed expression. Grizzbolt didn't fare much better, a comical look of incredulity on its face. THAT was her opposition?
"What?" Zoe echoed her thoughts, "You are going to fight me..ME…with a glorified punching bag?" A smile exploded on her face as she tightened her hold on Grizzbolt's fur to keep herself from falling off from her suppressed laughter.
The Castaway didn't seem offended. Instead, he raised his hand and pulled his fingers toward himself.
'Come and get me'
She got control of her expression, replacing it with something she hoped looked more serious.
"Alright then…" she hunkered down before pointing her finger at the rag-tag group, "Get 'em"
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The first time it happened, Zoe thought it was a fluke.
She saw the rolling thunder approaching the lowly offenders with deadly strength, only for the man to pick up his pal and sidestep her attack
Fair enough. At this distance, she supposed it was possible to react in time.
The second time it happened. Zoe thought he just got lucky.
Volleys of electrical energy surged forward with malicious intent. But none hit their mark as the par practically weaved between the bolts. She could feel Grizzbolt's frustration.
The third time it happened, she felt a cold tinge of something creep up her spine.
Grizzbolt lunged forward, paw crackling with voltage, and struck the Castaway. Except she didn't strike him, she barely missed him. She lunged again.
Same result. Miss.
Now thoroughly frustrated, Grizzbolt raised both arms, lobing itself into the air before striking back down with twice the force as before. Smoke erupted from the damage and obscured the area. Zoe squinted over her pal's shoulder.
A foot rested on one of Grizzbolt's large claws. Undamaged and grin no less cocky than when they started. His dumb face was less than a meter from hers and she could practically feel the laughter oozing off him as he looked at her.
'That smug sonofa-'
She gave the order to retreat, a new tactic forming in her head. The man jumped back as well.
She whispered into Grizzbolt's ear, and the enormous pal Smiled even wider, raising its hands and focusing its energy between them. A thin red laser now pointed at the Castaway.
"Dodge this, if you're so confident!"
The Castaway made no attempt to move, content to let their game play out.
Finally, the gathered energy is released in an instant, burning the air between them faster than a bullet. Far faster than was possible to dodge. It would hit she was sure of it.
And she was right. It did hit. But she is still to this day baffled by what happened next.
Just before the lock-on bolt launched, the man jumped into the air and pointed his spear at them. The bolt slammed into the tip of the spear, lighting the metallic head with powerful lances of lighting and peeling layers of wood off the shaft. But it held. And that was enough.
In a dexterous maneuver, the Castaway spun with the momentum of the blast, reeled the spear back, and hurled it like a meteor back at them. Zoe didn't even have time to process what happened before she felt herself floating in the air for a moment before crashing hard against the ground, knocking the wind out of her and scattering her thoughts as electricity froze her spasming muscles in place.
Grizzbolt fared slightly better, her natural element protecting her from the attack. But the force was enough for her to lose her balance, opening her up for a follow-up attack.
Moving nearly as fast as the bolt, the man sprinted forward, grabbing the scorched spear before it hit the ground and jabbed it into Grizzbolt's knee before she could recover. Off-balance and now without the support of a knee, Grizzbolt keeled over to one side in a less-than-majestic crash, struggling to gain a semblance of posture.
The castaway didn't let her, unleashing a fury of slices and stabs at its arms further incapacitating the creature. Zoe could only helplessly watch as her best friend was cut down so coldly, her voice still frozen in her throat by electrical currents. Without commands, balance, or fully functioning limbs, Grizzbolt was as helpless as she was. That feeling in her spine returned sevenfold.
She never should have fallen for his laid-back ruse. This man wasn't a Devout, he was a Demon.
Zoe let out a strangled gasp as she finally regained control of her body, remnant wisps of electricity jolting around her. She tried to stand, managing to sit on her legs when she felt something cold and metallic press against her head. She froze and turned slowly.
It was the Lifmunk. It was that damn Lifmunk, with its dumb eyes and even dumber face, holding a Submachine gun to her temple. It had a grin just like its master.
Vines entangled her lower body now.
She let out a breath she didn't know she had as she heard Grizzbolt's fighting spirit finally splutter out. Drenched in blood and completely immobile, somehow the Castaway had managed some dangerous blows to its abdomen and head in that short time. Now Grizzbolt lay dormant, a weak but consistent rising and falling of its large body the only indication it yet lived.
It stung Zoe in her soul to see her friend in such a state, it hurt worse than when she was caged and about to be sold off. The cold muzzle of the gun was somehow now a welcome comfort. That thought stung too, that her fighting spirit ended with Grizzbolt's.
She watched, attentive and alert, as the Castaway leisurely jumped down, looking as if he only did a slight jog rather than defeating the strongest Grizzbolt in the world.
He began to approach her.
She felt her heart rate spike. Her damaged clothes provided no comfort to the cold stone floor. This was it, she was going to die. She was going to die because of people who didn't care about her and for a cause she didn't understand.
She closed her eyes and tensed her muscles, waiting for the blows to start coming or bullets to start firing.
But nothing happened.
She hesitantly opened her eyes. The Castaway was crouched in front of her now, an unreadable yet distinctly pitiful look in his eyes. She hated it.
"Well?" she demanded, "Aren't you going to finish it? Coward!" She balled her fists and pulled against her restraints, the Lifmunk backing away from her aggression.
The man seemed to be pleased with her zeal and anger, and nodded. There, at least she could die proudly. Except he didn't raise his spear or command his pal to splatter her brains like she heard he often did to syndicate thugs. Instead, he reached behind him…
And pulled out a pal sphere
Zoe's face dropped. All resistance froze in her blood.
"No…" she whispered
He gently tapped it against her head and then she felt weightless once more.
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New Pal! Zoe Rayne Captured!
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