The Gladiator and the Revenant
By Lichard Nixon
Based in the World of Faian

Two servants leaned up at the sides of two stone walls, facing one another. To one side, a slope went down into the ill lit catacombs, and the other a bright western Kevica sun beat down and was blinding. Sand lightly rolled beneath them as the two faced each other. One was an otterfolk, a girl from Cusnova and the other a Curdan man from the Isle of War himself. Although faded, the otterfolk could still notice the turquoise tattoos which were fading from his body. Both wore red togas and skirts kept on their stomachs by a thick belt. Yet of their wears they hated the most were the clinging metal collars which held their necks, each one bearing their name and the name of their master. Both held the implements of victory in their hands and paws, a red silk cloak lined with purple and gold leaves, images of gods, and heroes.

They heard the fighting beyond the light, the grand Arena of Rosarug’s white capital of marble. There was grunting and heavy, the cheers of the crowd roared in the distance. The man sighed deeply and spoke cautiously to his peer “It’s been a bit too long. Starting to think he won’t make it this time.”

The otterfolk frowned and nodded. “If only yours was so lucky.”

The man looked surprised, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. Both were slaves of slaves themselves, bound to the two raging creatures which fought for glory and gold above them. Today had been a special day, two rivals’ gladiatorial schools had aligned their interests together into a glorious array of fights and hype. This was the final event, the arena above them was packed with screaming fans and senators from across the empire. She had once felt blessed to finally having been brought to Rosarug from the far north, but from the moment she would meet her master to this event, she had dreaded every hour of every day. The Curdan on the far wall huffed, pitying the Beastfolk.

“Beater I presume?”

“Yes an’ worse.” She said with a spite in her voice. She wanted to rant and rave but knew that a single delay in her duties which she and her peer looked for would result in a later harsh punishment. The dreaded thought of being sent to toil away in some mine for the crime of being a moment late stressed her. She looked to the entrance and listening in the cheers of the crowd but was focused more on the fighting.

The crowd went quiet, as a terrible scream was heard. The Curdan man shivered, knowing whose it was. He seemed like he wanted to give a good quip, but decided against it. The otterfolk stepped towards the entrance, peaking out over the threshold to see her master. It was an orc, having had a lucky strike to having trusted their tident through the soft armor of an elven man. The elf’s eyes were wide as his huge, red cloaked aggressor shook his body from their weapon as his tumbled to the ground. Grasping their weapon to try to strike back, a large iron foot cracked down the elf’s arm, causing him to scream further. The otterfolk winced as her master lifted his caged helm and threw it aside.

The feminine look of an orcish woman, proud and sadistic of her coming kill looked down at the elf, giving a wide smile. She lifted her trident up into the air, adorned in heavier armor and bleeding from many gashes and cuts along the pieces which had hurled off in the fighting. Like the dying elf below her, she had a metal collar adorning her own neck, studded with spikes in comparison to her foe whose own was studded in gemstones. She gave a smirk as she looked up at an older man looking down from a grand and close stand, having overseen the battle take place. She awaited his word, and as the older man stood and came to the edge. The otterfolk could see him, a golden robed man with a wreath upon his head made of thornless roses. He raised his hand into a fist, and then gave the dreaded thumb which raised to the sky. The orc roared out and brought down her trident once against to put an end to her well fought foe.

There was roar of approval and applause across the stadium. The Rosari stood and stomped their feet, some angry fans threw rocks while friendly ones through flowers. Neither could reach the gladiator. The older man began to speak, barely able to raise his voice over the crowd till one of the mages next to him touched his fingers to the old man’s throat, making it far more auditable.

“Glory onto you, daughter of Middle Kevica! Lost Scion of the great wastes of the north, slayer of dwarf kind, and revenger of the empire! Glory onto you, Guznius Reicarum, the Red Barbarian, the Glory Hound, Loyal Daughter of Rosarug! You have fought for the glory of the empire and have ended the line of—” The speech continued on and on, but the otterfolk cared little as she rushed from the catacombs. She put a pained smile on her face as she rushed to her mistress who stood victorious over her mutual foe. She felt lucky this time around as she rushed out, as the last few times angry fans had pelted her with stones. This time only a pebble hit her on the head, as she came to her mistress’s side. The red cloak was given to her, with cheers all around.

The orc whispered beneath her tired breath to her slave, a tenseness in her voice “What took you so long.”

The otterfolk wanted to frown, or explain herself, but it was pointless as she continued to just smile. It was all she could do.
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“Atria! Get me my bleeding wine, the good stuff this time!”

The otterfolk followed with bowed head with her mistress, who was in more comfortable clothes. Now in a more comfortable fine red tunic, the orc she served was ferociously seeking to be drunk to dull the pain of her troubles. ‘Guznius’ wasn’t her real name, it was Guzna, a fact which caught Atria off guard. They had spent the last week traveling back to the familiar home, the orc mistress now having a golden chain and pendant which signified herself as a champion. Yet, despite the honors given to her, she was furious. She marched down the stone halls, mosaics of gladiators all around her as she bursted into the office of her own master.

“Victorius as predicted, I see?”

Guzna gritted her teeth to see a half orc staring back at her, in a gilded white armor. Although he did not wear the polished spiked collar she did, the marks on his neck gave it a reddish look. Guzna marched into the small office, organized with books all around her as she nearly threw a chair to the side slammed her hands on the desk of her master, giving him an accusing look. The half orc stared back and gave a wide, cruel smile.

“You set me up, didn’t you!?”

“Oh, whatever do you mean?”

She wanted to throw the entire office at him but decided against it for her own sake. She was after all now a famed champion, a winner of the grand tournament. “That stupid dwarf, you sent him didn’t you!? Poisoning my drink! You of all people! For what, some bet?”

The half orc just continued to smile, calmly explaining “I have no clue what you speak of. You won, and that is all that is important.”

“I did, now when do I get this stupid thing off of me!?” The orc grabbed at the part of her collar which wouldn’t puncture her, tugging at it as a reminder. “I won the blasted challenges, I won, now where can I get this thing torn off and I can enjoy my life in peace. Clearly, you had no intention of that, didn’t you.”

“You are accusing me of destroying my most valuable asset? Oh, do think better of me Guzna.” He explained the best he could “You’re paranoid, I get it, and yes you now qualify to retire. You do after all deserve it, like how I had fought and earned it. Yes, you’ll get the money owed to you so you can buy a few hundred slaves, maybe start your own gladiatorial school, and live a fat, plump life—”

Guzna grunted, content until he continued in cruel jest “Then probably overspend as you usually do, get angry at your neighbor, get sued for attacking your neighbor, go bankrupt, and end up fighting in my school again to make up for it. Not that I expect anything more or less of you, Guzna. If you had won or not wouldn’t have mattered to me much, I win regardless.”
“So you did set me up.” Guzna spat

“Do you pay attention, or do you need a lashing for that tongue of yours? My kindness towards you has its limits, you stupid she-orc. I win regardless, I don’t need to repeat myself I hope. Whoever tried to poison you before the fight likely came from Darius’s school. It was bound it happen.”

Guzna shook her head and paced a bit “Fine, I want out, and quickly. It was bad enough what you had me do in Calosia. I am not going through it again.”

Her master scoffed “It was only for a few nights, woman, not like you didn’t expect it coming.”

She gave him a dark look as he gave a satisfied grin. “Besides, you aren’t going anywhere just yet.”

“What.” Her voice darkened considerably. Yet her master remained calm, collective in his desires. “You are still my property, Guzna, until I say otherwise. It is just one last simple job I require of you. As a champion you will need a victory lap usually. Parades, meetings with emperors—”

“All of it done without this blasted thing on my neck.”

“Interrupt me again, woman, and I will personally send you to Cusnova.” The threated hauntingly had her silence herself. Gladiators sent to the Beastfolk lands was a public humiliation, meant for failures to appease smaller theaters. Yet, the worse manner was the disinterest and the permanence. She heard the stories, and she had seen her master send friends and even a tutor of hers up there. He continued once he knew she was back in control “Yes, all that comes after retirement, but you will be going on campaign. Rosarug is going to war in a week, Guzna, and you will be joining the 4th Rosmardum Legion. I had to give an extensive bribe to the command to get you into a captainship, where you will be leading troops into the Commonwealth.”

She was shocked as much as she was dismaying. Her master sat back down and rubbed his hands into his favorite desk “Your name will be much more valuable to me and others when it is associated with the coming victory. The Kerks are invading that country again I hear, so there should be no issue. The legion I am sending you with will be close to the front, but not a part of it. You will leave tomorrow, and I will make announcements of your ‘sudden need to serve the emperor’ personally. Once the campaign is done, then we can discuss your ‘future’.”

She hated his smile, marching off in anger, shoving aside Atria who was coming with wine in a crystal glass. She caught all the things she needed in time, but the otterfolk spilled most of the contents on herself. Guzna’s master looked out of his office, scolding the servant silently, as she quickly ran off to clean herself up.
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Four months had passed since the invasion of the Commonwealth had begun, the forces of Rosarug pushed deep past the borders of Ragua and were now firmly advancing on both Radosky and Weskosky. Guzna traveled with the legion she was assigned to and was now near the ancient woods bordering Murmovy. The legion camped on top of a small hill, overlooking the thick woodlands to their east, slowly advancing to achieve their objectives. Atina stood watching as some of the camp slaves worked on Guzna’s personal tent, having become a chore to set up.

Atina overlooked the construction of the tent, which required two or three entire carts just to set up. Guzna’s tent HAD to have rugs which laid like a mosaic across the floor, clean and without a single scrape on them. The tent’s central pavilion was cumbersome, with three other tents which were hoisted up. The tent itself was a mix of red, pink, and light browns with designs all around it depicting gladiatorial duels of Guzna’s victories. Atina remembered them, but reality was far different from the pictures. The far end depiction was of Guzna’s victory against a Wildar gladiator, her first ‘big break’. It was less glorius to know Guzna’s master had fatally poisoned the beast, and had his limbs cut and his mind shrouded in drugs as he instructed Guzna on how to survive ‘an easy challenge’. One end showed a depiction of Guzna’s legendary conquest, beating ten gladiators at once from the Beastfolk states. What wasn’t told was how Guzna had caused the deaths of her allied gladiators during a drunken brawl, and she had spent many furious nights desperately bribing and poisoning her foe’s masters to get them to rig the match in her favor.

Yet the worst sin laid behind her. It showed Guzna in her finest glory, striking down her trident upon a frogfolk with his own raised up at her. She knew that Rivdari well, a recent capture and member of Guzna’s school. He had been friendly to Atina, and his name was Roik. It was a special event, a ‘betrayal’ event which was supposed to go someplace far different. Roik would have struck Guzna in the back, the two would fight, Roik would surrender and ‘retire’ with Guzna forgiving him. It was something they had agreed to beforehand, where Guzna would advance in glory and Roik would retire early at the school. Instead, Guzna struck down and killed him, and now his face, looking up with scorn at the orc mistress was forever plastered as a reminder behind her.

Guzna returned once the slaves had finished, having brought in a large oak bed, barrels of wine, fine tables, and a bowl of fruits. These were the ‘minor’ requirements for the legendary gladiator who wore her armor and cloak proudly, and the golden medallion around her neck swung low as she waltzed into her tent where Atina awaited.

“Get me out of this armor, dog.” Guzna lowly barked orders as she sat on the bed, looking tired and exhausted. Atina frowned, striking up a conversation to pass the time “I take it the commander yelled you again, mistress?”

“Yes, of course he did, you stupid beast.” Guzna reached for a bottle of wine on a nightstand, but passed her green hand over the crystal glass meant for her and directly towards the bottle. She drank with large gulps as she looked down at Atina. The two had known each other since Guzna started her career, and earned the attention of her master and school, but both didn’t very much like one another. “Once I’m out, go do something useful and grab me something decent to eat. Actual meat instead of this swill.”

Atina frowned and continued with her task as Guzna grunted, ranting at the only beast she was allowed to lay her true feelings on “That stupid old fool laid into me about marching on ahead. Doesn’t he know I am his own captain? I mean, hell, the school put me here for ‘moral support’, but I am not the camp’s bleeding jester. I cheer on crowds when they are a near mile away and with an announcer, what the hell am I supposed to do here?”

It amused Atina as she finished undoing her mistress’s armor as it fell off her body and the orc got into something far more comfortable. It was true, no one knew what Guzna was doing here, or really any of the gladiators. The whole invasion was not going as well as suspected, as the Estani fought brutally with each stretch of land. Resistence was common, even when entire settlements and cities were threatened with expulsion to Rosarug as slaves. What should have been a perfect triumph and bending of knee to the empire turned into a slog, racing to find the missing king of the Commonwealth before the Kerks reached the capital of Radosky. Guzna expected military parades alongside the great general of the campaign, as was promised by the school’s advisors, but now those advisors were miles away trying to find out if such a thing could even happen. Guzna laid her head back on her pillow, as her eyes turned to Atina who had not moved much. “Are you going deaf? Grab me something to eat.”

Atina snapped back to some manner of reality, having been staring with a longingly look at the image of her friend. As she went off, Guzna was alone for a blissful afternoon looking up at the ceiling. She waited until at long last her servant returned and sat a plate of roasted beef on a well-furnished table. Guzna sighed, speaking harshly to Atina as she continued to await her commands till she drifted off to sleep.

“Dog, how long have you been in my service for? Ten? Fifteen years? I can’t remember.”

“Twenty-Two.” Atina said softly. There was a grunt from the orc who stood up to eat. The gladiator, adorned in the finest and polished clothes and adorned with a golden chain of champions, seemed uncaring of her upbringing as she delved into her meal haphazardly while none could look at her. “Twenty. Hard to believe that’s where we started out as.”

Atina was not used to this; it made her uncomfortable. In all her years, Guzna had not been kind or friendly towards her, she didn’t even think the orc knew her real name. “Now it’s all nearly done. Just a few more weeks, maybe a month or two, and Rosarug will win again as it always has. When I go home, I’ll be free. Truly free, and I have no clue what the hell I am going to do with you.”

“Take me with you I suppose.” It was both a vain hope and a realistic end to her. In one way, she had dreamed of being able to buy her own freedom and go live back in Cusnova and settle in a farming community. Somewhere, anywhere felt better than this. On the other, it was likely she would likely just end up being Guzna’s slave till the end of her days, as was the fate of most. Guzna scoffed, as Atina turned her head up at her.

“Didn’t know you could joke, you sniveling thing. Though, you are mine, so I don’t see why not. One of the few things I’ll at least truly ‘have’.” Atina mentally prepared for the worst of all punishments, listening to the ranting of her mistress as she looked for a place to sit in time, but was brought to attention when she came close to her “Its honestly pathetic, that I had to pull my weight because creature like you leech off what I must build. The others got servants who worked hard to the bone to make their masters successful, but for these past years, I had to beat you to even move. Now its all coming to an end, you mangy thing, when we return back home.”

Atina was almost in awe as Guzna took the bottle in her hand and drunk it heartily, she shifted over to her food, growing angrier by the second “Ever since my own uncle sold me to this land, I had to fight and grovel to even earn a name for myself. I did everything that was asked of me and more. I did it, all of it, and more so! I sold out people I cared about for this career; I did awful things I swore never to do because some half bred told me to.” She continued to drink heavily, Guzna became more furious and looked at a shocked and terrified Atina “I did things that humiliated me, and you know the comforts I got? It’s coming back to a tavern room to see your blasted face, silent and bitter.”

Guzna threw the bottle at Atina which smashed on the ground behind her as she ducked her head. She kept still, knowing now Guzna was in one of her moods. Yet, this felt different, more personal than before. “I had to do all this on my own! All of it! Oh, so yes, you are absolutely coming with me, the only piece of property I’ve owned since coming here. You enjoyed living in my shadow for a bit too long.”

The last line got Atina’s eyes to widen in fear as she shriveled backwards. Guzna chewed on a piece of meat, as she parted her mouth into a vile, sarcastic, smile. “I think you deserve to know. I’m going to sell you. But I am not going to sell you back to the school, I am going to sell you to a quarry. I know a couple nice ones, brutal ones.”

“Mistress, b-but why?!”

“Easy, you are useless and a contemptable thing.” Guzna moved as she ate, as if enjoying as Atina looked at her mistress with horror. It was the most expression the orc had seen from Atina for a long time. “When the half breed gave you to me, I had expected you would be like the others. Their slaves roared their names, did things to aid them, attached to them. For all this time? You’ve been like a weight. A burden which I had to pretend exists. No more, I think I am going to buy a Roach Man with the money I’ll get from you.”

Atina got on her knees, holding out her paws and begged with tears in her eyes. “W-wait, please. I’m sorry to have offended you, I—”

“A bit too late for that now. Though, here’s the deal. If you really impress me these next few days, I might just reconsider. I may keep you, just not as my ‘assistant’, maybe as a cleaner of my future palace’s mosaic. His mosaic.” Guzna slowly pointed to the frogfolk depiction on the opposite side of the tent. Atina had a revelation as she looked to see the cruelty in her mistress’s eyes. Guzna gave her a command, finishing up her last piece “Now, let us start over. I want to see effort, slave, loyalty even. Go grab a nice towel, and if I see that rug cleaned by tomorrow morning, spotless, I might just reconsider a few things.” Guzna watched almost gleefully as the teary eyed otterfolk rushed out of the tent as she meandered around.

It felt like a new life was just around the corner, an age of her legend would soon be upon her. She’d be free of two burdens at once. She wondered if her threat would be good enough to proverbially lash her servant into action, to earn her attention and impress her. Yet, the idea of tormenting the beast who had been difficult to her for all these years, silent and incompetent in her eyes, also filled her with much joy.

Then time began to pass and Guzna grew annoyed, time further passed and she wondered what was taking Atina so long. She left her tent, looking all across the camp for her slave, and could not find her. One of the sentries sounded surprised when she had asked him.

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen her, she was heading down towards the forest to find something for you I believe.”

Guzna had a sudden realization, rushing off to her tent to grab her armor and trident.
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Guzna’s thoughts darkened as she trudged through the forest, having spent the last hour just putting on her armor with the otterfolk to help her. She understood why’d she run, but now she would regret it. She dared not arouse the sentries, as the idea of losing her prestige because of such a small event was not to her liking. Having to request a slave from that hated general would have been worse in her eyes, as she trudged through the forest, breaking sticks beneath her metal boots. Her eyes darted in all directions, her hand on her trident and another on a lantern. She was adorned in her full gear, having bribed the sentry with something fine from her tent. Guzna’s thoughts turned to Atina and all the things she would do to her, and the anger the orc felt towards the otterfolk grew ever more brightly.

The forests around her were old, as she found the reckless tracks of the fleeing Oturan who likely was now lost. She knew what she was looking for, as she followed broken sticks and tumbled leaves, finding her way with a silence to a small clearing. Guzna stopped, a bit surprised to see Atina kneeling, her head facing forward and shaking a bit.

“Found you!” Atina looked behind her, looking almost frozen but not backing away as the orc approached her in her full gear. Guzna grabbed the otterfolk’s tunic and angrily shook her “You stupid wretch, I should just kill you and be done with it! Oh, I am going to have you lashed back at the camp, you disobedient wretch! You know, you got your little wish, I am going to keep you, I am going to make sure you suffer for inconveniencing like this, I’m---” Guzna had dropped her lamp to the ground, but its light showed forward to a figure who stood facing her. Guzna threw Atina to the side and quickly arose and outstretched her trident as she grabbed her lamp.

The figure approached, garbed in the scaled armor of an Estani knight, chainmail lightly clinking together. The being’s foot was heavy, like a thud as it approached. Coming into view, Guzna froze to see the figure, rotting an decaying with a small cloud of flies buzzing around him. His garb was worn and old, the weapon he had on his belt was broken, and most of his most precious brown garb had rotted off. Yet, Guzna’s attention turned to his arms, legs, and head. One of his arms was near skeletal, and one of his feet looked chewed and fleshy. Yet, the man’s head was blank, his eyes fully gray. He looked like a fine young man at one time, with hair was short and had a gruffy appearance. The being blinked as Guzna put her lantern back on the ground slowly as a shiver of fear came over her.

She had heard of undead but have never seen them before. Undead were things of the far north, but this thing looked like a fresh corpse. The shadows of buzzing flies gave friendly warning as Guzna kept her trident extended outward.

“I am Guznius Reicarum, Champion of Rosarug, the Red Barbarian. You face a champion of the empire. You—” The being looked down at the trident extended to it and back at her, its face looking less and less friendly. It’s crumpled skeletal hand went to it’s broken blade as Guzna brought her trident closer to her and touched the runes which were driven into its shaft. A short burst of flame before growing in power appeared at the three ends of the trident, thick blue sparks came from this fire. Guzna’s held up her spear high as the red and blue flames slowly trickled down into parts of the handle before she let it down quickly. She had no idea if this was a necromantic sentry or something she had not seen before. Yet, once she had ignited her magic weapon, the undead creature drew his broken blade and took a surprisingly defensive stance as if his weapon was whole.

Guzna quickly came forward, stabbing her trident quickly into the being’s chest who stood its ground. It’s attempt to stab at her was foiled as she caught the being’s hand, as strong as it was and broke its arm on the handle of her trident. The being’s chest bursted into flame as the magical fire spread across and inside his body for a short while. Once the being’s blade dropped to the ground, Guzna picked it up and used all her might to catch the undead horror in its neck, decapitating with a swing. The body and head tumbled to the ground, as the flies which once covered the body flew off in all directions as if she had routed an army.

Panting, she looked around, confident she had just slain her first undead creature. She was awash with emotion, as she looked with a newfound hate towards her servant. Atina couldn’t move, frozen in fear as she watched her mistress come close and scold her “We don’t talk about this with anyone, you hear? Now, I---” Guzna stopped when she heard something behind her, and her eyes went wide to see the horrible creature still moving.

The headless revenant arose and shambled into once again into a more calmed position, seeping unpleasant juices from its wounds. Guzna again got into a defensive position, her trident held out to it. In surprise to her, the revenant made the sign of the sun’s rise, an illuminated symbol of greeting before from its severed head came an ear shattering shriek. The headless revenant picked up its sword as it continued to give an unearthly wail, with part of its arm and its sword catching its own enchanted fire, one which was black and green. The ghostly weapon was held once again in a defensive position as Guzna again charged forward to fight it. Guzna thrusted, but this time the being dodged and parried her blows with an expertise she knew only skilled soldiers to have. The shambling creature heaved its short and broken blade at her, catching her tridents. Guzna remained horrified, seeing the headless creature fight her off.

Guzna went from being on the attack and was soon on the defensive. The horror claimed gashes with its weapon which caused her horrible pain. She grew frustrated, landing blows upon her foe but unable to knock it down or stagger him, her normal means of injuring her opponent and quickly finishing him did not work upon the revenant. It continued to pursue her as Guzna quickly realized she was not at the advantage, she wasn’t even sure she was evenly matched.

Yet, her finery worked against her, something this being exploited. Guzna wore a cape of her victory to battle, so the horror pulled at it till it came off. Her armor was toyed with and her weapon was rendered useless. Even the expensive dwarven runes on her mighty weapon soon began to fade, while the enchantment on her foe’s grew ever brighter. Skin peeled away from the green flame which covered the arm of the revenant, further decaying his form. Guzna attempted one last trick, trusting her trident again into the creature’s chest with her full strength, impaling him. The enchantment on her wore off, and the creature seemingly fell silent, but soon it began to move again. It grabbed the trident which Guzna held onto, pulling itself forward as it lifted its dark blade and cut down on her, striking her at her chin.

Guzna fell backward, feel much lighter and in great pain. The spiked collar at her neck was struck, and so was the golden medallion she wore. Both pieces of metal tumbled as she did, as she looked up at her foe. Fear overcome her, crawling backward and in pain as the being approached.

The revenant brought its grimy, hard skeletal hand to Guzna’s throat and began to squeeze. Guzna desperately tried to scream for anyone to help her, anyone at all. Yet, the dark beast continued to squeeze. Her head shifted to Atina, still looking frozen with shock as she backed herself up to a tree and hid behind it as Guzna tried to beg the being with what strength she had to let her go. She didn’t want to end like this, but as her vision began to fade, the being holding onto her throat with dear life, her mind and body softened till pain and sorrow were gone for good.
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Atina couldn’t sleep that night, staying in the grove with the body of her mistress not far as she hid. The being she expected would kill her next, as it approached her. Yet, as it was reaching for her, the headless body turned to the camp where she had come from and seemingly abandoned its prey. The revenant went to collect its head and marched on, leaving a gibbering fool behind. Atina could barely believe it, as she wept and tried to ask forgiveness from her mistress’s ghost. Exhaustion overcame her, and she fell silent for a time, and awoke the next day with the sun beating down on the forest.

She heard voices, three which were in a language she didn’t understand. She peaked out of her hiding place, looking to see an Estani man, one fully garbed as a knight looking on with a shame into the distance. He was older and was graying at the tip of his large beard and long hair. Yet, two creatures beside him were strange. They were two otterfolk, nudging each other and speaking in friendly tones. One looked a lot like her, wearing a brownish tunic with a Rosarug’s iron collar clasped around his neck, while the other looked like a soldier. This Oturan was older than his companion, he wore chainmail garb, with a rope necklace which at the end was a large clam shell with a beautiful painted depiction of a candle. He wore a kettle helm and leaned on a spear which he used as a walking stick.

They stopped when they saw Guzna’s body and approached. The otterfolk soldier looked down at the medallion that was broken which was farther from the body, calling over the other one who seemed surprised to see it, knowing what it was.

The Estani soldier knelt to the body, looking it over and seemed almost confused. He looked to his companions, asking them something, but both couldn’t help but shrug. Atina looked on, not sure what she was looking at, before accidently grabbing the knight’s attention when she stuck her head up a bit too long. Cringing, she quickly dove back into her hiding place before the three marched over.

“W-wait! Wait! I am not apart of your enemy! Please!”

The three looked at each other, before the otterfolk in the brown tunic spoke first, in a language she knew “You are from Rosarug?”

“Y-yes. And no. I’m—I’m---” She didn’t know what to say, covering her mouth and looking like a mad beast. The Estani soldier gave the three otterfolk space as he went back to the body. The brown tunic otterfolk knelt to her and smiled “Don’t be afraid, we will not harm you. You are in good hands now.”

“Oh gods. I—” She was huffing as the soldier next to her spoke, in a thick accent “The orc, who is she?”

She tried to explain, as poorly as it was, of all that had happened. The two listened, looking at each other with disbelief. She was helped up and entered the clearing, looking around anxiously. The soldier got up and looked her over, as things were explained to him in his own language. The knight was strange looking to her and gave horrified look as soon as the revenant was mentioned. He blinked and spoke down to the two. Atina frowned as the knight spoke next in his own thick accent “How long ago was this?”

“It—it was yesterday.” She was suspicious now, as the knight and soldier exchanged looks.

“The Rosari camp not far from here was attacked and scattered by a Revenant, a haunted creature of my lands, otterfolk. It was chasing someone, someone planted in that camp as a spy.”

“Destroyed? I—” She could hardly believe it as she looked to the soldier who gave her an unbelieving look. “You say this was yesterday, right?”

“Yes, is something wrong?”

“The war is over. Rosarug fled back to their home country.”

“What?” Atina was genuinely confused, looking at those around her. “N-no, that isn’t possible. They were going to win, right? I was---I was fleeing, I didn’t know where to go, I was followed, and—”

“You are safe now.” The brown tuniced otter smiled, calming her. He looked up at the Estan knight, asking him something which he shrugged at. He looked around at the deep and haunting forests and spoke to Atina “You best come with us. This is Logus, my servant. He will care for you. Once we reach Weskosky’s capital, we will see about getting that metal on your neck removed.”

Atina couldn’t believe it as she was confused, dismaying, but yet relieved all at the same time. Logus smiled confidently, taking her paw in his own and helping her along. They were guided by the soldier, a beast who revealed he was from Cousland, one of Kerkia’s vassals, which only confused her more. The Estani Knight stayed behind briefly, looking down at the corpse before quickly moving up to lead them, leaving the ancient and cursed forests Murmovy behind.