Beneath the Surface (Adventure, slight Gore)

Quimia's ears perk up. "Somepony is wounded. But not merely physically." She turns to Arcane. "Please, excuse me. I must seek he who requires my services."

She leaves the tent, closing her eyes. She turns her head in Storm's direction and opens them, and hurries to his side and kneels down. "Good morning. What is your name?"

Storm turns his head to look at the zebra. Normally seeing a zebra would have resulted in confusion or curiosity, today though it resulted in nothing. "Storm." He answered sullenly. He continued to massage his hoof to reduce the pain it was giving him.

"Allow me." The zebra bends down towards his hoof and opens her saddlebags. She extricates a vial of blood-red fluid and applies it liberally to his forehoof. "This should sooth the aches that ail you."

Storm quickly pulls his hoof away. "I don't need any help." He says quickly. "Monsters don't deserve any help." He added so quietly it could easily be mistaken for rustling wind. "There are others injured much worse than me." He says louder. 'Most were injured by me.' He adds mentally.

Quimia frowns. "Monster? Such a title is not deserved for most. Especially you, who would curse yourself as such." She moves closer to Storm. "Tell me what plagues you. Tell me what terrors prey upon your mind, that you would feel compelled to see yourself as a monster."

Griff walks up "He lost control during battle and killed many of ours, even more of theirs. He just can't get over it." Griff says as he casts a strong pain-killing spell on Storm. "He just needs some time alone."

Quimia glances at Griff, then at Storm. "Is it not natural that you would have to grieve, given such circumstances? I shall give you your space." She rises to her hooves and moves away. "Such is the way of war."

Griff nods in agreement. "Reminds me of my first kill. I couldn't get over it." he decides to follow the Quimia.

Storm nodded absently, staring at the floor. He continued to massage his leg despite the pain killing spell taking the pain away from it. "It's only war if the enemy can fight back, when I lost control it stopped being war and became slaughter." He said.

Quimia frowns at him, but does not rebut the point. "I can say nothing but that you are chained by your own grief. You can never move on until you learn to forgive yourself. And do not tell me that you are beyond redemption; there is no evil so great as to be beyond saving."

She falls into step beside Griff. "Well-versed in the art of war, are you? I can only surmise that you have taken many lives over the course of your career."

"True, mostly evil lives." Griff says. "Whoever they pay me to kill, I do it. I got over it already."

Quimia shudders. "I must confess to being alien to such ways of thinking. My purpose in life is to heal and save. I can scarcely imagine being forced to take a life."

She pauses and stops. Casting a brief glance back at Storm, she brings out a vial of blood-red health potion and places it on the sand next to Storm. "In case you ever forgive yourself."

"If they would tell you to take a life of a foal murderer, would you do it? I know I would, even without payment." Griff says.

"I... do not know." Quimia confesses. "By logic alone, the choice is obvious. But any sentient life is to be respected, and were I given the opportunity to rid the world of such a pony... I cannot say that I have the willpower to do what would have to be done." She sighs.

"Understandable." Griff says as he continues walking alongside Quimia. "Not everyone would take a life away just like that. Most would pass the job to someone else. That's where we mercenaries come in."

"I suppose." Quimia exhales. "I only wish it were possible to redeem them. To make them see the sheer extent of their evil... perhaps then, they would turn back. But I realise that this is only wishful thinking, and nothing more."

"I can never forgive myself. The only ones who have any right to forgive me of my sins are already dead. I cannot forget until I am forgiven and I can't be forgiven by any living soul." Storm said quietly, shifting his unblinking gaze to the vial.

Quimia looks back at Storm. "They were Guards, were they not? I know that they will have forgiven you. I am a Guard myself. I know that they respect anypony who is willing to fight for a just cause. And there are no grudges to be held in Paradise." She smiles. "Trust me."

"I trust that is what you believe." Storm said. "I am as upset about killing them as I am about why. I killed them, my own comrades. I should have maintained my control, I should have retreated the instant I noticed myself becoming angrier. I didn't and because of that many more are now dead. It's my fault they died, my fault they can't return to their families." He hung his head again. Massaging his right leg.

Quimia stops in her tracks and watches Storm solemnly. "Allow me to tell you a story." She breathes in and begins:

"In my native land, there lived a child
Who was born to war and battles wild.
He knew not of peace, of joy, of cheer
But only of a solemn fear
That one day the fate of his friends
Would be his own sorrowful end
And so he swore to live, all for
The day when he could end this war."

She eyes Storm, and continues:

"This dream of hope, this dream of bliss,
Was not one he was willing to miss.
And as he grew in age and mind
His glory and his talents shined
Upon those who dwelt in dark and pain;
They who longed to be free of chains
And so, for them, he rose and fought
And with his blood, their peace he bought."

Quimia smiles.

"And so, with the great battle won,
And all the warring nations gone,
He found a love he'd thought forfeit
His sister, whom fate saw to omit
From the doom and death that had spread far
Across their land beneath the stars
So for a time, all was set free
From the scourge of memory."

Quimia's face hardens. She continues,

"But one day, in his darkest hour
Despite all his might and all his power
A plot was made, a plan was hatched
An army of great death dispatched
From a distant land, whose greed was vast
And thought they had this child outclassed.
They came, they saw, and they marauded
As their cruel king had ordered
And on the day of our defeat,
They made their massacre complete
With the life of this poor child's last kin
And his sanity that lay therein."

Quimia stops for a moment and sighs.

"This child swore again, but not for peace
Nor for the last, the lost, or least.
This time revenge did drive his action
To destroy the bloody faction.
And so he thought, he planned, he schemed
And when he came across a stream,
He conceived a most horrific plot
To kill all of them on the spot.
The stream was their supply of drink,
Their armour's only vuln'rable chink,
So with his sister's life denied,
He committed an act of genocide."

Quimia gazes at Storm. "With poison. Far worse than your crime, I feel."

"He gazed upon a broken world
Wrought by his own plan unfurled
And he came back to his senses
And grieved over his grave offenses
For he realised, 'pon harmony's ghost,
That he'd become what he'd loathed the most."

Quimia sighs again.

"He knew he was beyond redemption
His name in Paradise ne'er mentioned
But he sought, no matter what, to right
The wrongs he had seen fit to blight
The land of peace with, the decay
That was not great harmony's way.
And so, with effort spanning years,
He put to rest the peoples' fears,
And as had always been his view,
The land of peace began anew."

Quimia closes her eyes and smiles. "Redemption is a special thing. It is not for everyone. But what matters is the will, the drive, to do the best you can to fix what you have done. It might not be enough to earn you forgiveness, but it is all you can do." She looks Storm in the eye. "You have killed these soldiers. Their families grieve. It is your duty to comfort them. To seek redemption for yourself is selfish, but to seek redemption for others is selfless." She waves a hoof. "Go. Do what you must."




((I can't believe I spent an hour and a half writing this.))

Griff smiles when Quimia stops. "That... was some beautiful storytelling.." he says, still admiring her.

((Holy damn))

"Thank you." Quimia bows. "Speaking in rhyme is... somewhat commonplace in my native land. I am grateful that I have managed to retain some of that talent."

Storm stopped his massaging. "So I should get up and fight to make sure that these guards didn't die in vain?" He asks, looking up with hopeless eyes. "This happened because I fought. To fight again will see a repeat. That is the nature of it, my strength. I could stop others from coming to harm if I fought alone. Thank you." He grabbed the vial of blood red liquid and stood up. "Griff is right you really are a truly amazing story teller." He added before tuning his back on them and walking towards the forest.

((My god, I'm actually impressed that only took you an hour and a half, to make something like that I would have spent at least a day.))

"Thank you as well." Quimia bows.

"If you fight alone." Comes a familiar voice from behind them, before Storm leaves.

Quimia's eyes widen. "Ician?"

"Yes." Ician stares at the trio. "Good to see you here, High Alchemist. I suspected Paladin wouldn't just send the mercenary." He turns to Storm. "I have a plan for the coming battle, and I'm not willing to risk collateral damage again. Storm," he hesitates, "I must ask if you are willing to fight alone. Because I need you to go beserk again, but this time I'm going to keep the ball firmly in their court."

((To be fair, I already had the storyline from one of the fanfics I'm in the midst of writing now, so it was just a matter of making it rhyme. Plus I've had a lot of experience doing Zecora dialogue from said fanfic.))

Griff slightly bows when Ician appears. "Good to see you again, Commander." he says. He then turns back at Storm. "I wonder what would happen to the forest if he goes berserk again... probably not much of it will remain, that's for sure.."