Being on an escort mission was enough to boil Sangu's blood. For a warrior it was much too proper and had far too little chance of fighting for his tastes. Driving him ever so close to his breaking point was the fact he was in the belly of an old prison. Dismantling the will and body of an enemy in a cage was far too elegant in his opinion. He preferred the glory of battle in the open, with the enemy able to think it had a chance before being torn to pieces. The irritation the whole ordeal caused to his better sense of judgment caused him to stand with his teeth exposed.
If anyone should have noticed the fangs, the clenched fists, and the deep growls in answer to any query, it should have been Obecu. His constant chatter as he briefed the giant warrior had almost earned him a quick beheading numerous times in the short walk. Of course, he never would have known it was coming.
Rather than listen to the annoyance of the detail contained in Obecu’s lecture, Sangu stared at the bound figure below him. Shackled, gagged, blindfolded and even restrained with a myriad of leather straps and chains, the little monster completely failed to live up to the fantastic images he had created upon hearing of the summoning. The frail little thing contained in the restraints was something he hardly considered a proper meal. Still, seeing her did make him hungry.
"I smell no blood," Sangu noted, staring intently at the creature’s red locks.
Obecu was in mid sentence when his giant counterpart boomed with suddenly. "Uh, sorry? Lord Apricar?"
"Urcues," Sangu corrected with a hiss in his voice. "Urcues Sangu Apricar. I am no lord! Never address me incorrectly." He made sure that Obecu's tail had been tucked between his legs in terror before tilting his own head playfully and asking, "Now, why do I see blood stains? Have you been mistreating this creation?"
Obecu’s eyes darted fearfully between Sangu’s exposed fangs and the creature. Finally, he put together what the angry giant was saying. "We thought we'd make her beautiful in her reckoning, in order to please her," Obecu stated fearfully. "Our research found that gold is considered the best mane coloration. However, due to our recent treaty, we would never think of insulting the people of Iralon by making her with a gold mane. So, we went with the second most favored mane coloration. That would be red."
Sangu marched toward the restrained figure so he could stand over her. "They have...red fur?" The expression on his face changed from anger to disgust. "They think it pretty to look like they are in a constant state of bleeding?"
Sensing he should direct Sangu’s negativity further away from himself, Obecu noted, "She also has blue eyes, the most favored by the people of her world." His counterpart was not only four times his height, but had a powerful jaw that could crush half his body in a single bite. Seeing that Sangu was leaning in and putting that jaw ever closer to the creature, he went on, "Red mane, blue eyes, and lean in musculature, as is favored of females."
Sangu stood and nodded slightly. "Blue eyes? I thought you said these were the most ferocious creatures on their world! How can this be a terrifying demon if her face reminds prey of bleeding and sunny skies?"
Obecu fumbled awkwardly for the right words. As Sangu’s gaze was once again cast in his direction, he felt far too shaky to come up with anything other than, "Urcues Apricar, are you ready to take her?"
Sangu let out a low chuckle that could easily have been mistaken for a growl of disapproval. "I don’t see why I have to learn her language. This is below me in every sense of the word."
"My profuse apologies, Urcues," Obecu pleaded with a slight bow. "I must have been too boring for you to listen to. But I already told you, we tried to teach her Iralian and Perbian. Unfortunately, the language scrolls don’t work." He patted his hands together nervously as he explained, "She’s illiterate. Not even capable of reading her own language."
"Freakish looks, and a fool." Sangu shook his head. "You people are so horribly underwhelming. Why my superiors decided to treaty with you, I’ll never know. But, fine. Give me the scroll."
Obecu bowed as low as he could. He, too, was angered by the fact the facility only had one scroll in he creature’s native language. Sadly, he was also happy that they at least had the one. From his coat he pulled out a metal tube and unfastened the cap. His tiny paws pulled out a scroll and he handed it up to Sangu. All of this he did while bowing.
"When you get back to the Court Hall of War," Obecu tried to cheer, "They'll be sure to have a few more in their stock, and mages who can reproduce as many as are needed. You won’t have to bother speaking with her any longer than your trip over there. For the time being, you’re the most worthy of speaking with her."
"Worthy," Sangu snorted disdainfully. "I am stuck with having to walk her to the Court Hall." Sangu shook his head. "And, I have to be the only one who can talk to her. With any luck, Obecu, she'll be much less annoying than you, or I fear I will have to behead two lowly beasts today."
Obecu gulped dryly. He had the notion Sangu had been agitated, but not enough to do him any harm. He bowed fearfully and tried to sound professional as he suggested, "You need to tell her the story we talked about. She doesn’t see any of this as making sense, and goes into psychotic fits when we try to negotiate with her."
"So, at least she’s insane," Sangu growled while trying to read the scroll. "Maybe we can find a use for her. Though I still don’t see any sense in thinking she can be a warrior."
"I understand your doubt in her, Urcues," Obecu pleaded, "But until the Court makes a judgment, she needs to be under the best impression of us. Besides, a little of what our historians have cooked is true. So you won’t be lying, at least not in entirety."
Sangu had been glancing over the scroll, trying as best he could to pay attention to both it and Obecu’s endless chatter. The magic in the paper caused him to learn a new manner of speaking, writing, and even thinking. The ink of the letters glowed yellow as they were read, then faded away to leave only smudged ash stains on the paper. In moments he had a fresh language in his mind. [I]"Okay, Obecu, release her."[/I] He snarled as Obecu looked up with a fool's expression. Then, he realized, he was speaking in the newly acquired language. With a conscious effort to speak Perbian, he asked again.
Based on the fact she vividly remembered being executed as a heretic, Jeanne could only believe she was in Hell. She had no idea why the demons looked like overgrown cats, but she knew they were infernal by the way they had treated her.
She had spent two days in torturous bondage, only able to listen to the demonic chatter of the hellish feline minions. It sounded like the Latin she’d heard so many times in Mass, but corrupted to a form she could not understand. How ironic, she thought, that in Hell they would speak Latin. The dark world was one of endless chatter for her, so she was paying no attention when a deeper, angrier voice had joined the chorus of high-pitched verses.
Without the ability to talk, Jeanne had been saying endless prayers in her head. She had just begun making a mental prayer to Saint Michael when she felt a swarm of tiny hands yank at her many bonds. The chains and leather straps suddenly came loose, followed by the knot of rags in her mouth, and then the blindfold.
Normally, she would break into a frenzy of prayers upon the removal of her gag, but what was caught in her vision petrified her and struck her dumbfounded.
A proud lion looked down upon her. Standing on its hind legs, the lion-man had to have been at least eight feet tall. His gold fur was complimented by a suit of shining iron plates. Unlike the small cats, he was dignified as a warrior. His appearance was matched only by the engraving of a warrior bear-man on his breast plate.
[I]"You’re Jeanne Darc, correct?"[/I] The words flowed easily from the lion-man’s lips, and in French that Jeanne could understand perfectly.
[I]"Y-yes. I am. Tell me, where am--"[/I]
The lion-man snarled and lashed his mighty hands down at Jeanne’s throat. He had the perfect grip to snap bones and put an end to the conversation, but his rage was subdued by pleas from the black cats. He changed his snarl to a simple grimace and yanked the woman to her feet. He noticed a prayer forming on her lips, which caused a kinder expression to sweep in across his muzzle.
[I]"Lady Darc, I am Sangu Apricar, of the Urcues Order, Iralon High Guard. Now, I know you’ve died. We all have, actually."[/I]
Depressed, but not surprised, by the information, Jeanne lowered her head before quietly asking, [I]"Sir Apricar, Is this Hell?"[/I]
[I]"No, dear Darc. This is Pecota, realm of the souls of animals. This is not Heaven, true, but it is also not Hell or Purgatory. You know animals can’t commit actually sin. Therefore, we end up here, to live a semi-human life before God can judge us."[/I] Sangu spread his arms out to indicate himself and the multitude of black cats in the cell.
[I]"All of us are the embodied souls of animals awaiting the loving embrace of our glorious Lord."[/I] He sighed before adding, [I]"I must apologize for the treatment you’ve undergone. The Perbians, the cats you see, are simple creatures. They don’t have any idea what they’re doing, and were afraid of you."[/I] He thought quickly on his own actions. [I]"And please address me as Urcues. I am no knight, but a member of the Order. I apologize for my temper, but I, too, am simple in mind at times."[/I]
Jeanne nodded. [I]"I understand."[/I] She had to look around to confirm what she was hearing. She had never heard of such an idea, but feared her current situation was proving at least some of what Sangu was saying had to be true. [I]"So, Urcues, you have warriors. That means you have need for war."[/I]
[I]"Indeed. In recent times Lucifer has been sending demons into this realm to corrupt it. He would take our animal souls for himself to spite God. We need help in fighting off this threat so we can move on to Heaven."[/I] He sensed an aura of disbelief growing in Jeanne. [I]"I can prove it. We’ll be leaving to the Court Hall of War for the Perbon government. There they will show you the relics of past wars with demons, and allow you to see some first hand. There, you can make decide whether or not to help us."[/I]
[I]"All I have to do is go with you to a court?"[/I] Jeanne shrugged at the idea of being in another court, recalling how bad it had been for her in her previous life. [I]"Very well. I will go and witness your evidence before deciding. If your plight is true, I can see helping you as a just thing to do."[/I]
Sangu nodded and felt pleased with himself. [I]"Saint Francis would agree with that."[/I] He smiled at Jeanne’s shocked reaction. [I]"Dear Lady Darc, you see, we have been praying to Saint Francis for help, as our patron saint. He decided to send you as an emissary intermediary. After all, Jeanne, you were canonized. You are the patron saint of hope faith and duty within war. You are the embodiment of everything we need to overcome the corruption of this realm."[/I] He wanted to laugh at Jeanne’s slacked and dumbfounded jaw, but kept his thoughts to himself. The story concocted by the Perbian researchers was working better than expected.
[I]"I-I see."[/I] Jeanne’s mind wandered off. She knew she had died, but had no memory afterward. Truly if she were a saint, she would have remembered being an intermediary. Her fears that Sangu might be lying only increased with that information. Still, she needed out of the prison, and if they were offering to walk her out, she may as well agree just for the opportunity to escape. [I]"When do we leave to the court hall?"[/I]
Sangu glanced back to the Perbian black cats, who had been busy gathering travel supplies. They appeared to have everything in order. [I]"We can leave now, Jeanne. Or should I say, Saint Jeanne?"[/I]
Not wanting to incur the wrath of true saints, Jeanne responded, [I]"Jeanne will work."[/I]
[I]"Okay, Jeanne."[/I] Sangu spun around on his heels and headed for the cell door. His impatience was starting to show in his hastened pace. [I]"Let’s get going soon. It’s a ten mile trip, and we’ll just make it before sundown as it is."[/I]
At first Jeanne had hoped the trip would be on horseback. The more she thought about it, though, Pecota’s horses were likely to be two-legged and free of will, as well. Walking felt good, at least, as it was nice to get out and move as a change. It was certainly better than being bound.
The scenery was strange, looking like a barren field of weeds with hills in the distance. The place was mostly yellow and brown, with a few clumps of vegetation making for spots of green scattered very conservatively about the landscape. A pillar of smoke far on the horizon kept catching her eye, though none of the group made an indication they cared.
Unable to fully take in the strangeness of her situation, she kept trying to listen in on the conversations going on around her. Though, the corrupted Latin-like language was impossible for her to decipher.
"I want to know why she keeps looking at me so strangely," Sangu snarled in Perbian while walking with Obecu at the head of the caravan.
"Oh, that," Obecu muttered. "She's from Humilon. Though our worlds have been in contact for eons now, she is most unfamiliar with most anything she sees. For example, on Humilon, lesser versions of my people are actually kept as simple pets. And, Urcues, there exist lesser versions of your noble people. Just, on Humilon, your cousins are regarded as regal beings only to be juxtaposed to most powerful of royal families."
"So seeing me and my kind," he waved a hand back to indicate the two Iralon guards in flowing white tabards who walked with Jeanne, "Makes her think of royalty and power?"
Obecu nodded. "On Humilon they tend to focus on your kind’s prestige, rather than the terrifying power that brings that prestige to you." He sighed to himself, wishing he could be more honest and just call Sangu and terrible savage unworthy of any respect, especially not from his team’s most amazing project. Summoning the dead from another world entirely, especially a world of mighty demons, was something absolutely amazing. Deep in his heart he felt it should be he in command of the team and the object of all praise and respect.
"Prestige not power," Sangu scoffed, almost dismissively. "We’ll see if your researchers are correct." He turned around and charged to the rear of the caravan.
"Urcues!" Obecu knew what was going on immediately. He looked up and regarded the sky with agony. If not for the monsters that had to be fought, his Perbian people would have no need to make alliance with the brutes of Iralon. He followed behind, knowing he would be utterly impotent if any fight should arise.
Sangu dismissed his two Iralon counterparts with a waving hand gesture. They parted and let him at Jeanne. [I]"Ah, there you are, Jeanne. My little cat friend was just telling me that your people looked at Leonta as noble creatures."[/I]
[I]"What?"[/I] Jeanne could sense she was about to be attacked. She was glad that for some reason, not one member of the entire caravan carried a weapon. There was not so much as one walking stick. [I]"Urcues, what are you talking about?"[/I]
[I]"My apologies, Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu said mockingly. [I]"Lions. You see, in my kingdom of Iralon, we call ourselves Leonta. You respect us, right?"[/I]
"Urcues, stop!" Obecu wondered if he should try to use his magic powers to stop Sangu. Hearing the chants of his Perbian brothers, he knew they were already preparing spells. "We need her! Let’s just get to the Court Hall. They will decide her fate, not--"
"Silence, small-ling," Sangu threatened. "I want to see what this thing tastes like. I’m far too curious to see if she even had red blood. Besides, it’s no loss to any of us. Do you really expect me to believe she can help us fight our enemies?"
Knowing she was the focus of the little argument going on before her, Jeanne boomed, [I]"I knew you were lying!"[/I] She spat in Sangu’s direction and continued, [I]"And to answer your question, I think lions are the petty slaves to the British."[/I]
Sangu had a little over two feet of height advantage over his Humilon adversary, and knew not even that was needed to take her out. His natural claws outclassed anything she could possibly hope to fight with on her simple form. [I]"Ah, weak demon, you are not even such. You are a fairy. Gentle and about to be smashed by a superior life form."[/I]
Jeanne quickly said a prayer under her breath, and crossed her heart.
[I]"Foolish monster,"[/I] Sangu growled, [I]"The gods are powerless against us. You pray in vain."[/I]
[I]"There is only one God,"[/I] Jeanne shouted, [I]"And He shall judge you, the true monsters, and see you cast into the lakes of Hell!"[/I]
[I]"Lakes?"[/I] Sangu struggled with the word. He knew it as part of the language scroll, but had no real reference from his own mind. Quickly, it came to him and he hissed in Iralian, [I]"Acuar!"[/I]
The two other Iralon guards snarled at the word and repeated, "Water!" Their claws suddenly came to their sides as they watched their leader, Sangu, prepare his own claws for battle.
[I]"Tell me, mongrel cat-demon,"[/I] Jeanne said with a forceful authority in her voice, [I]"Before I have to kill you, what that smoke is over there."[/I]
[I]"The northern tip of Mendacia. A kingdom of pitiful creatures, though even their most elderly and lame stronger than you. They are falling to our longest ally, Haeresis."[/I]
Jeanne thought about it. For some reason a distant city wall with smoke rising from it reminded her of her past life. She felt a need to do something while the cats around her chose to ignore it. [I]"Fine. I will help them immediately after sending you to answer for your sins."[/I]
[I]"You’ll send me nowhere!"[/I] Sangu lashed at Jeanne with his claws, catching her and causing a trickle of crimson to run along his fingers, but he had no time to tell as he was suddenly slammed to the ground.
Jeanne would have fought back, but the pain in her face was overwhelming. She doubled over with her hands over her head, trying to calm from the throbbing and strike back at her assailant. Fortunately for her, she saw him fall to her feet at the same moment she started to hear sizzling and popping in the air.
While her right eye was covered in too much blood to see, she was able to look out with her left and see the little black cat-demons casting fire spells at the lions. They succeeded in stopping her presumed murder, but took every bit of effort to match the lions. Ten black cats fell to the two lions at the same time their infernal magic took out the lions. All that was left was one black cat, and Sangu’s smoking body.
Obecu wanted to cry, knowing it was the end of the line. Nobody would ever know of his proud accomplishment, especially if Sangu got up to finish what he started. He desperately tried to think of how to use his own magic to save himself and his project. The most he could summon in his haste, however, were large wasps that could only sting at the recovering Sangu.
Finally, Obecu realized it was either brilliant mage, or brilliant creation. He had to choose, and started to shed tears with his decision. He stood his ground with his wasps as Sangu rose to his feet. He quickly turned to Jeanne once more and shouted an order.
Maybe it was that she was learning their language, or maybe it was the sheer obviousness of it, but Jeanne was able to understand the corrupted Latin for once. As the black cat screamed, [I]"Fugesat,"[/I] she understood the command, [I]"Flee!"[/I]
As she turned and headed toward the smoke in the distance, she said a prayer to Saint Francis for the little black cats, even if she believed they had to be demons.
The Mendacian city in the distance was not really so far as it had seemed. Though the buildings were similar to those she remembered from her own world, they were in a scale much smaller than she had ever seen before. A two-story mansion barely came up to her waist. As for the best of the city walls, they only came up to her neck.
Beyond the walls, she found more infernal magic at use. Then again, it only made the fight fair. The inhabitants were only inches high, and were humanoid versions of tiny silver foxes. They tried their best to defend with all their might against terrible siege machines launching fire barrages.
In control of the machines were savage and terrifying beasts, the likes of which she had never seen before. Nine or maybe ten feet tall, they looked lion-like, but were much bulkier in build, almost bear-like. Their size was not their most intimidating aspect, however. From the closest inspections she could get while hiding in the fields, she found that the attackers had giant fangs that hung down from their mouths like pairs of ivory sabers.
After getting her best reconnaissance on the situation, she started to determine if she could help, and if she should. Even if the foxes were using magic, perhaps she could preach to them after saving them. They were animals, after all. The saber-fanged bearcats, however, were the first true sight of actual demons that she could not deny. She felt it necessary to eradicate them.
It only took her moments to make up a tactical decision. The foxes were losing. That much was obvious by the fact half their tiny city was drowned in flames. Sitting and defending was proving deadly. She needed to lead them into a charge against their attackers.
She said a prayer to Saint Michael and then ordered to the fox city, [I]"Come, follow me! God will lead us all to victory!"[/I] Realizing the difference in language would present a problem, she shouted again, [I]"Impetus!"[/I] She snatched one of the city’s flagpoles from a fortified tower, complete with a white banner containing a gold ring in the middle, and ran with it.
Swarms of foxes rose from their entrenched positions to watch the psychopath first steal from their city, and then charge at the attackers. They began to think on her words and actions, and repeated her, in their own rendition, proving they had finally understood. With a unanimous, [I]"Imptrisa,"[/I] they broke from their burning city and followed her.
By the time Jeanne came into striking distance with the first of the giant saber-fangs, a dozen of the tiny foxes had magically found their way to her shoulders. Hundreds flew in swarms around her, and hundreds more yet ran along the ground all along her. They were a cheering, yet angry, throng of creatures turned deadly by her charge.
The closest bearcat had raised a huge scimitar at Jeanne’s approach, but never even prepared to strike as a thousand tiny spikes of ice struck him down. Other incoming enemies were shot down with followed ice spells, with a few electrical bolts thrown in. It was like a tiny lightning storm and blizzard had come to life all around Jeanne. The entire time, they chanted, [/i]"Morit Sablya!"[/i]
Jeanne found she never had to find a weapon of her own. All she had to do was run with her adopted banner, heading toward any of the accursed Sablya, and the foxes took care of the rest. Though the tiny enchanted creatures took heavy losses as the bearcats swung scimitars and clubs alike into her allies, they were so numerous they were able to keep fighting, and strike attackers coming from any angle. Surrounded many times in her head-on charge, Jeanne found it fantastic that her entourage was able to bring her out safely. The fireball catapults that had done to much damage to the city could not be turned inward in time, and Jeanne and the foxes quickly gained a clear advantage.
With a quarter of their soldiers wiped out within minutes, the rest of the Sablyar called for a retreat. Jeanne dropped to her knees in prayer, overwhelmed by the sense of accomplishment she felt from the victory. Suddenly, voices and ringing came into her head, but before she could tell if they were divine in origin, the wound to her head took over and she faded into unconsciousness.
The repair to the city would take a long time, Jeanne surmised. Talking to the foxes was impossible, as only a handful of Latin words were similar enough to the language of the Puk, which the foxes called themselves. Though neither she nor the foxes understood each other, the foxes were always more than willing to sit and listen to her attempted sermons on the sins of using magic.
The preaching did nothing to stop them from rebuilding their city with magic, however. She spent three days picking up sections of walls and buildings for them without making any headway in trying to get them to stop their spellcasting.
At the end of the third day, Jeanne was looking forward to the little town gathering the foxes liked to hold every sunset. Full of singing, dancing and apparent storytelling, she always enjoyed the sight of it, demonic or not. At least it was entertaining, and she direly needed entertainment while recovering from the loss of her right eye.
During the gathering, a song was not the first act, however. Instead, a small black cat was escorted in by the more militant and less playful of the city’s populace. The cat-demon bowed at the sight of Jeanne and wore a coat much like the others she had been with days earlier.
[I]"Saint Jeanne Darc, you are unmistakable, even injured as you are,"[/I] said the cat, in a voice that seemed to indicate he was happy and angry at the same time. [I]"I am Pravo Lejer, historian on the Daman War Project. We haven’t met, but I believe you met my half-brother, Obecu Propria."[/I]
Jeanne nodded. The name Obecu sounded familiar, and she was sure it was the name of the creature that sacrificed itself to save her. [I]"Yes, he protected me from the lion, er, the Urcues. That savage took his life, and the life of your cousins. I am sorry to inform you."[/I]
[I]"Lady Darc, there is no need to apologize."[/I] He dusted off his coat before sitting near her. Apparently, he felt no need for formal stand and greet routines. [I]"Obecu is the summoner who brought you here. There was a whole team of us who worked to get you here, and most died with that incident. In fact, that very incident is the very reason I’m here."[/I]
Jeanne looked off to the sunset. [I]"Are you here to threaten me?"[/I]
[I]"Not exactly. You see, I’ve come from the Court of War. They’re angry with me, Lady Darc, not you. My team brought you here to help us. We, uh, prayed to Saint Francis desperately to make sure you came. And here you are! But, that incident with the members of the Urcues Order has put our treaty on shaky ground."[/I]
[I]"Treaty?"[/I] Jeanne shook her head, still facing away to the sunset. [I]"Why would you make treaty with such savages?"[/I]
Pravo sulked for a half-second. [I]"It isn’t something any of us like, but as you can see, the people of my own kingdom are far too weak to wage war against the demons that threaten us. We need help, and that, Iralon is more than able to do. They may be savage, and they are probably insane, but at least we have a better chance working together."[/I]
[I]"So? I am not part of either kingdom. Leave me be. I wish to help these poor creatures."[/I] Jeanne felt ready to wave her visitor away.
[I]"That is exactly what caused my trip. You see, you were brought here by my people, through the efforts of the Kingdom of Perbon. But, you also caused the massacre of members of the Iralon High Guard. That puts our treaty on dangerous ground, but then you come here and help the Puk. Jeanne, I can tell you honestly that helping the Puk and their Kingdom of Mendacia would normally be a primary interest of my people."[/I]
[I]"Then why is there none brave enough to come and help these poor souls?"[/I] Jeanne stood, ready to walk away, her emotions downed by the annoyance of the black cat.
[I]"Because, the forces you frightened off, the Sablya of Haeresis, are close allies with Iralon."[/I]
[I]"What!?"[/I] Jeanne was hardly able to keep herself from leaping at Pravo. [I]"I thought they were the demons that needed to be fought!"[/I]
Pravo stood too, shaking his head. [I]"No, the Sablya are like us, stray animal souls waiting for redemption. The demons we need to fight are much, much worse than anything the Sablya can muster. Can I have your word to come with me to the Court Hall and talk to the ministry? We need you. Not only to lead us as well as you did the Puk, but also to stop endangering all of us by threatening to break our treaty."[/I]
[I]"No."[/I] Thinking the situation may call for her to be ready to fight, Jeanne put her hand on the hilt of her sword. To her it was, anyway. To the Sablya it had merely been a small camping knife.
[I]"Dear Lady Darc,"[/I] Pravo said in fake reassurance, [I]"I’m no threat to you! In fact, I had your safety at the height of my goals with this meeting."[/I]
[I]"Then--"[/I] Jeanne stopped talking as soon as she saw Pravo point away from the sunset. On the horizon were the figures of war machines and warriors alike.
[I]"The Sablya will take this city, Jeanne,"[/I] Pravo said coldly. [I]"And this time they have brought their allies. That means Iralon troops, and Perbon mages. We’re all coming, and I had thought I could talk you out of something stupid. Now I see I was wrong."[/I] He shrugged. [I]"Can I at least count on your surrender?"[/I]
Unable to contain her emotions, and further unable to really speak to her newfound friends, Jeanne shouted, [I]"Morit Sablya! Morit Iralon!"[/I] She looked to Pravo and continued, [I]"Morit Perbon!"[/I] As the tiny fox-people took arms with her battlecry, she boomed, [I]"Imptrisa!"[/I]
"I guess not," Pravo muttered in Perbian as the army rose and charged around him. In the back of his mind, he was happy he had survived his messenger trip into the Puk city. He watched Jeanne run quickly away from him and toward the enemy lines, feeling a bit of pride that his creation at least had a true will of her own.
Over Jeanne’s head, fireballs shot down from the war machines ahead. They struck behind her and her army, doing damage to the city itself. Squads of Sablya attacked with swords at Jeanne as she charged with her pretty banner in hand. With it overhead, she felt indestructible. None of the intercepting squads could touch her.
With each attack her army killed a handful of Sablya, but she was starting to wonder what the trinity army had in store for her. A few more Sablya attacks were attempted, each time with her foxes downing the enemies before taking any real casualties. Suddenly, the little ice spikes and lightning bolts shot by the foxes were outshined by new magic. Fire rained down directly on them.
Jeanne tried to dodge the firebolts shot by the Perbon mages, and never once thought of using her own banner to shield her from the heat. That decision came at a price, and she was burned in a dozen or more places by the little flames. It was not long before her stride took on clear signs of a heavy limp.
The little foxes did what they could to fight back, but their range was worse, and they began to get struck down. Where the bolts only wounded Jeanne, they were fatal to the Puk. Still, she charged onward, and they rode, ran and flew right along with her.
In the time it took to cross the distance between the fox city and the enemy position, she had time to say a prayer to Saints Michael, Catherine and Margaret. She even had some time to spare for a prayer to Saint Francis for the foxes. She knew she would need every bit of help she could get.
While crossing empty distance, she never expected an ambush. Perbon mages appeared from nowhere, as if they teleported with magic right to her sides, and pelted her forces with firebolts. Jeanne felt deep sorrow as she knew the foxes were gone. Surrounded, she stopped in her tracks. She tried to raise her sword to fight, but was knocked down by fire that burned at every part of her.
It was too familiar. Too frightening. She curled into a ball on the ground, praying frantically for help, and fearing she would not get an answer.
Sangu stepped forward from the ring of mages as they parted to let him through. He chuckled proudly and drew his sword, now having a scabbard at his side. To the mages, he ordered, "Join the rest in taking the city. This one is mine, and all mine."
Jeanne felt Sangu’s heavy hand grab her by the throat and force her to her feet.
[I]"Stand and fight, Saint Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu seemed to order. [I]"Get your knife and fight me. I never eat anything that doesn’t put up a fight. And I’m still curious as to what you taste like."[/I]
[I]"Find judgment and go to your place in Hell!"[/I] Jeanne took a wild swing with her sword, causing the charred ends of red hair to fly in front of her face. [I]"Demon!"[/I]
[I]"I’m not the demon, Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu said with a growl. He thought over what to say for a moment while unfastening the buttons on his collar. With a little loosening on his neck, he felt just the slightest bit more casual. [I]"Everything you think is a lie, Jeanne. You did die, and you were brought here. But it wasn’t Saint Whatever who did it. Patron saint of apples, latrines and the environment? Or was it parasites and the French?"[/I]
[I]"Do not defile those who know only holiness. You are unworthy to even think the name of any saint!"[/I]
[I]"Right, sure. I don’t like your superstitions, either, Jeanne. Whether they exist or not, they didn’t bring you here. We did. The little black furballs. You are the product of a summoning project. You were picked by the Perbians because they thought your world to hold powerful demons. Their research led them to believe you’d be a fine leader in a desperate battle."[/I]
[I]"Oh shut up! I won’t listen to your lies!"[/I] Jeanne could hear the destruction of the city walls behind her, as well as the victorious cries from the army.
[I]"You hear that, Jeanne? We’re getting what we want."[/I] Sangu pointed to the distance with his sword, still walking around her to keep her on her feet, but never engaging. [I]"I promise I won’t talk you to death, but I’m trying to explain. There is no Super Mega Majesty God. We simply found you in the life flow, the place were the energy of dead beings go. There is no Heaven or Hell, just a place of dark matter that can’t be seen. A place where the energy of your being goes on. We brought you back, Jeanne. Or, I should say, we brought an echo of you back."[/I] He smiled with the words, [I]"You aren’t even the real Jeanne Darc. You’re just a pathetic, lowly copy."[/I]
Though Jeanne had felt there was something wrong with her new life, she could not accept what Sangu was saying was true. That was, until Sangu held up a mirror to her face. The rd hair she knew about, but not the blue eye, or the completely different face. She knew her body was different, but not as drastically as she could tell by being able to see it in the mirror. [I]"I. I’m not. M-me."[/I]
[I]"So now, Jeanne, you see? You could have had a great life with us, helping us."[/I] He nodded playfully before throwing the mirror aside. [I]"We did need your help tackling an enemy."[/I] He pointed upwards. [I]"We needed your help to kill the gods. The real ones. I order to do that, we needed a strong life force. One that was a leader, one good at desperate battles, but most of all, one who was a god herself. Saint Jeanne, the Perbians thought you good enough to join us. Now I can say without a doubt as I look at your deformed face, I was right to doubt you all along."[/I]
[I]"Enough of this!"[/I] Jeanne tried to slash again at Sangu, but he was far too agile for her. [I]"I’ll yet strike you down, demon! You will be sent to the lakes of Hell."[/I]
[I]"Acuar,"[/I] Sangu hissed. [I]"At least, when I die, I won’t need to be scared. You, however, you’ll die right now. And you’ll do so terrified that you’re nothing more than a demon’s creation, on a demon world. Which means you’ll be the one cast into the lakes."[/I] He laughed maniacally before moving in to attack.
Jeanne blocked the strike with her sword, but was unable to break and make her own maneuver. Instead, Sangu broke first and forced her on the defensive with a flurry of blade strikes. On the last swipe of his strikes, he tried to remove Jeanne’s head, which caused her to duck and roll. Right over he banner.
Sangu stabbed down at Jeanne, prepared to end the battle, but was slapped on the side of the head by the flagpole turned banner. He stumbled backward, angry that his reflexes gave Jeanne time to get to her feet and prepare her own strike.
Jeanne was reckless enough to move right in on Sangu, who it turned out was just as reckless. He caught the sword in his hand, quickly covering his arm and Jeanne’s front in crimson. Using his free hand, he swung at her head. He managed a good slice at her scalp before she dodged the shot by letting go of her sword.
Sangu fumbled with his injured hand to hold Jeanne’s captured sword. In his mighty grip, the looked more like the knife it was supposed to be. He smiled cruelly at Jeanne, who stood opposite him with only a stick and a piece of fabric. [I]"No God at all."[/I]
Jeanne felt enraged by the blasphemy. With the cheers growing ever louder from the conquered city, she spared a glance to realize the joy the trinity army was celebrating was not the conquering of the city, but the wanton destruction of every one of its structures. She felt like praying, but then wondered if the words were true. Was she a saint?
Voices entered her head. Not divine will. No message of victory or hope. Instead, she was filled with calls for help. Was she really a patron saint of hope and determination in battle? Maybe she could even return and become the living saint of her homeland. She wondered just how long she had actually been dead.
As the voices grew, in French and in Puk, she felt empowered. Rather than pray to a saint, or even to her Lord, she decided to pray to herself. She swore she would make sure justice would be done, and she would care for the weak and those who need hope.
Jeanne finished her prayer out loud, [I]"This I will do. I swear. So help me God!"[/I]
Sangu snickered at the show, believing it a bluff. He could lunged forward with his injured off hand, and swung down with his main hand. There would be no way Jeanne could dodge without somehow getting hurt.
Jeanne, to both their surprise, stood her ground. She struck at both weapons, each with an end of her stick, deflecting blows but also putting her right in Sangu’s path. With a quick turn of her banner staff, she managed to slip the broken end in a gap just under Sangu’s breast plate. The gushing squishy sound was a testament to Jeanne’s determination.
With his life slipping away, Sangu let go of his swords and slammed his fists down at Jeanne’s shoulders. Though he heard a definite snap, he failed to kill her, or even break enough bones to release the woman from her impaling stance on him. He grimaced as he thought of one last thing to do. He put his weak hands around her neck and squeezed down with all his remaining strength.
Both warriors fell to the ground together in the vastness of the empty field. Beyond them, the three armies cheered at their victory, completely oblivious to the duel’s end.
Though dismissed by Perbon, Iralon and Haeresis, the story of Saint Jeanne went on for a time. The people of Mendacia quickly adopted her as a deity who would lead them to victory and freedom from their enemies. In the final days of their war with the Trinity Alliance, the Puk populace had a prayer they would say to their new deity:
[I]"Far from home, surrounded by your enemies, shadowed by harassment, ridicule and doubt, you held firm in your faith. Even abandoned, alone and without friends, you held firm in your faith. Even as you faced your own mortality, you held firm in your faith. I pray that I may be as courageous in my beliefs as you, Goddess Jeanne. I ask that you charge with me in my own battles. Help me keep in heart that what is worthwhile can be won when I am persistent. Help me be faithful. Help me find my ability to act well and with wisdom. Amen."[/I]
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Check out my ongoing story setting: The Timber Grove Chronicles Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Ah, thank you for the kind words on the title. Though, I see there are finally a bunch more entries that don't try to have fun with her name.I'm going to admit now that my procrastination proficiency (Level 10) is the cause of many of the spelling and grammar errors. It contributes heavily to my Typo Feat (Level 3). Just no time to edit due to writing it so close to the deadline. Oh well, I know I'll get docked for that, and especially for the silly stuff like the incorrect [/i] tag. Do'oh!
Edit: I do realize the thread ain't locked, but I'm certainly not going to edit my entry to try to spiff it up. This is how I entered it, so I'm willing to accept the point deductions for silly stuff like forgetting to put the word "sword" in a sentence. All my fault.
Check out my ongoing story setting: The Timber Grove Chronicles Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Deimographica: Hold Firm in Faith
Adherence to Prompt: 5. Seems to be Joan, though I really think her execution and then appearing in a hellish place like this would leave her a bit more unbalanced. Not to mention, a bit pyrophobic?
Spelling/Grammar: 4.5. A few missing commas
Characterization: 8. Sangu is quite well done, but Joan, I think, should be a little more… something. They mention that she goes into ‘psychotic rages’ when confronted with her situation, but actually seeing one would help. Consider that she thought herself on the way to Paradise, and ends up here… I’d think she’d be more desperate, or heartbroken, or something.
Plot/Structure: 8.5. Everything meshes well, story drew me in.
Style: 7. Pretty good, one or two awkward points. The one that glared out for me: “Nine or maybe ten feet tall, they looked lion-like, but were much bulkier in build, almost bear-like.” Sounds repetitive, could easily have used ‘almost like a bear’ at the end and sounded better for it. Also, you POV switch within scenes, which is somewhat jarring when much of the story seems to be third person limited. Finally, “The gushing squishy sound was a testament to Jeanne’s determination.” I’m sorry, but “squishy” completely ruins the scene. Far too comedic sounding a word.
Creativity: 10. What can I say? Part Joan, part Gulliver, part Watership Down… have Joan survive the end, this could make a wonderful beginning of a long adventure saga that I picture as an anime for some reason.
Total: 43. I’d love to see more of this. The image of Joan leading a charge of tiny fox people is both cool and cute at the same time. Finally, the adaptation of the prayer to Saint Joan is a fine touch at the end, and probably the only ‘epilogue’ ending I’ve seen in this contest that works well.
Ah, cool, thanks for the honest (and kind) feedback on my entry, VestDan! (btw, since you're done judging my story, I have to say I enjoy Po8)
To be totally honest, I think you were generous with the Spelling/Grammar score. Every time I re-read I cringe at how much I didn't edit. So many word choices I wish I could redo or fix or (in the case of missing words) add in. Yes, "squishy" would have been redone had I not procrastinated to the point of inability to edit.
Quote from VestDan »
Seems to be Joan, though I really think her execution and then appearing in a hellish place like this would leave her a bit more unbalanced. *snip* Joan, I think, should be a little more… something.
Oh, you can say that again. I truly wish I had left myself enough time to develop her character a little more. I am glad a Joan of Arc expert liked my take on her, though. I was thinking of running the story a little longer to put in some more Joan development, but it would have gone over the 8,000 word limit, and just put more grammar errors and typos into the story for judges to get mad at.
Quote from VestDan »
Pretty good, one or two awkward points. *snip* Sounds repetitive,*snip* Also, you POV switch within scenes, which is somewhat jarring when much of the story seems to be third person limited.
Thanks for pointing that out. Those weaknesses are something I overlooked in my writing before. I'll certainly work on them in future writing now that they've been brought into question. I'm glad to have entered this contest, because it makes for great exposure and some honest critique to improve for the future. Again: Thanks!
Quote from VestDan »
have Joan survive the end, this could make a wonderful beginning of a long adventure saga that I picture as an anime for some reason. I’d love to see more of this. The image of Joan leading a charge of tiny fox people is both cool and cute at the same time.
Though at first I thought writing about Joan of Arc would be very awkward for someone who enjoys fantasy writing as much as I do, I grew to like her the more I read about her, and especially once I started writing her. I hope the ending isn't too obvious about a continuation, but at the same time, I hope it does make further visits to this storyline at least a bit expected. And yes, I am already working on the next part, which may or may not tell the outcome of Joan, but will certainly tell the tale of the Puk and their war against the Trinity Alliance.
Quote from VestDan »
Finally, the adaptation of the prayer to Saint Joan is a fine touch at the end, and probably the only ‘epilogue’ ending I’ve seen in this contest that works well.
Oh, thank you very, very much! You wouldn't believe how much trouble coming up with the proper ending was for me. I had this story idea since I first read the contest prompt, but avoided writing because I wasn't sure how to wrap things up in a way that worked. I blame that for assisting my Procrastination Proficiency (level 10!) rolls. However, I credit the prayer to Saint Joan with motivating me to finally write this story (even if it was at the last minute.)
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Check out my ongoing story setting: The Timber Grove Chronicles Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Adherence to Prompt: 4/5 - Except for the end, I felt like you could have changed Joan's name and it wouldn't have made a diffrence.
Spelling/Grammar: 4 - No major problems
Characterization: 4 - I had a lot of trouble following all of your exotic names. I didn't figure out who was who until at least halfway through. Also, Joan's actions didn't feel consistant to me -- they all happened because the plot needed them to. I have no emotional involvement with the Puk.
Plot/Structure: 6 - The plot was capable and you accomplished everything you needed to. Sadly, I just didn't feel invested. The plot is very ambitious, but the obscurity of the names and places alienated me, and I never felt the plot rose above standard fantasy tropes.
Style: 6 - I wasn't sure how to score you here. I went for the above-average 6 because, like for reasons mentioned above, your style is good but not spectacular. Your story is very ambitious, and the name "Puk" is awesome, but nothing else felt different from any other fantasy story. The problem stems from your story being too in love with its concept. The latin names especially, you're too concerned with the fact that Sangu "means" blood and not concerned enough with making Sangu breathe. It feels very... top-down.
Creativity: 6 - Your idea isn't bad, but I can't get past my initial impression of the story: Joan of Arc in Narnia IN HELL. I like how Joans strength is from when she's attacking. I'll admit I've thought of designing her as a magic card, where she and all attacking creatures get +2/+0 only while attacking
Like "Hellion," this story feels like it wants to be much, much bigger, and so suffers for being constricted to the short story form. An epic finish in search of an epic beginning and epic middle.
A bigger problem is the extraneous feeling of Joan – you could substitute almost any historical or original figure here, swap out their weaknesses for Joan's, and do the same tale. Specifically, this feels like an M:tG story in an M:tG setting of your own design, with Joan added because she was the topic chosen for the contest.
That said, there's a lot of promise here. It just doesn't feel like the promise is as a Joan story, but as your own original work. That feels like where you're comfortable writing, but your Joan comes off as gullible, even placeholder.
The scope of your world is huge, and you've posed a needless challenge to yourself by trying to cram all of this original, creative material into a Joan story. If you don't write to fit the assigned format on a work-for-hire job, you're unlikely to get a second contract.
0-5 Adherence to Prompt: This isn't just "Is Joan of Arc in the story." This is "Does she seem like Joan of Arc?" Historical innacuracies will come out of here, though I'll likely be the only one to dock for that.
2.5
This score was a "1" until the end, when a real-feeling Joan poked her head into the story. I just wish there was more of a need for Joan, specifically, to be the one in this story. She's a Christ figure, not just a Christian figure, a paradoxical character with lots of potential to her, but Joan seems to be in this story to fulfill a needed plot device.
0-5 Spelling and Grammar: Sefl-esplanator.y Don't neglect this - Scavenger had a few spelling errors, and lost last round by half a point. These are not hard points to get, so don't take them for granted.
4
Solid work here for the most part. I have some style gripes, but those are for later.
0-10 Characterization: How well are your characters (all of them) developed? Are they believable? Do they come alive to the readers, or are they just flat archetypes?
5
Character development was thin—I think the need to present action scenes, and to introduce an entire new world, left little room for fully fleshed-out characters. Not one of them did anything truly unpredictable, and Joan spent much of the story as a fairly generic "stranger in a strange land" type character.
0-10 Plot and Structure: Does everything flow well? Does the story make coherant sense? Do we care about what happens, at the same time as not being able to see everything coming?
5
You've got a well-thought out plot, but I think the structure of your plot was buried, again, in the need to introduce so many concepts, creatures, names, etc. The twist was surprising, but because of other character problems with Joan, it wasn't as compelling as it could have been.
0-10 Style: How effective your words are. How well you use symbolism, imagery, voice, and all those other mystical writing concepts.
6
The epic feel of the action sequences was undercut by characters that spoke in anachronistic ways—"Super Mega Majesty God" and so forth. The style also feels rushed, once again because, I think, your ambition is bigger than a short story can contain.
On the other hand, I added points for some sweet fight scenes.
0-10 Creativity: Just because you have to use a well-documented historical figure, doesn't mean you can't be creative about it.
6.5
This story is overflowing with creativity—almost too much (I'm starting to sound like a broken record). I certainly don't object to transplanting Joan into a strange fantasy setting, but I don't know that you needed quite as much detail. It made matters confusing. I dig those little foxes, though -- the animal imagery, the well-paced fight sequences, and the way the legend of Goddess Jeanne evolves at the end is nifty.
If anyone should have noticed the fangs, the clenched fists, and the deep growls in answer to any query, it should have been Obecu. His constant chatter as he briefed the giant warrior had almost earned him a quick beheading numerous times in the short walk. Of course, he never would have known it was coming.
Rather than listen to the annoyance of the detail contained in Obecu’s lecture, Sangu stared at the bound figure below him. Shackled, gagged, blindfolded and even restrained with a myriad of leather straps and chains, the little monster completely failed to live up to the fantastic images he had created upon hearing of the summoning. The frail little thing contained in the restraints was something he hardly considered a proper meal. Still, seeing her did make him hungry.
"I smell no blood," Sangu noted, staring intently at the creature’s red locks.
Obecu was in mid sentence when his giant counterpart boomed with suddenly. "Uh, sorry? Lord Apricar?"
"Urcues," Sangu corrected with a hiss in his voice. "Urcues Sangu Apricar. I am no lord! Never address me incorrectly." He made sure that Obecu's tail had been tucked between his legs in terror before tilting his own head playfully and asking, "Now, why do I see blood stains? Have you been mistreating this creation?"
Obecu’s eyes darted fearfully between Sangu’s exposed fangs and the creature. Finally, he put together what the angry giant was saying. "We thought we'd make her beautiful in her reckoning, in order to please her," Obecu stated fearfully. "Our research found that gold is considered the best mane coloration. However, due to our recent treaty, we would never think of insulting the people of Iralon by making her with a gold mane. So, we went with the second most favored mane coloration. That would be red."
Sangu marched toward the restrained figure so he could stand over her. "They have...red fur?" The expression on his face changed from anger to disgust. "They think it pretty to look like they are in a constant state of bleeding?"
Sensing he should direct Sangu’s negativity further away from himself, Obecu noted, "She also has blue eyes, the most favored by the people of her world." His counterpart was not only four times his height, but had a powerful jaw that could crush half his body in a single bite. Seeing that Sangu was leaning in and putting that jaw ever closer to the creature, he went on, "Red mane, blue eyes, and lean in musculature, as is favored of females."
Sangu stood and nodded slightly. "Blue eyes? I thought you said these were the most ferocious creatures on their world! How can this be a terrifying demon if her face reminds prey of bleeding and sunny skies?"
Obecu fumbled awkwardly for the right words. As Sangu’s gaze was once again cast in his direction, he felt far too shaky to come up with anything other than, "Urcues Apricar, are you ready to take her?"
Sangu let out a low chuckle that could easily have been mistaken for a growl of disapproval. "I don’t see why I have to learn her language. This is below me in every sense of the word."
"My profuse apologies, Urcues," Obecu pleaded with a slight bow. "I must have been too boring for you to listen to. But I already told you, we tried to teach her Iralian and Perbian. Unfortunately, the language scrolls don’t work." He patted his hands together nervously as he explained, "She’s illiterate. Not even capable of reading her own language."
"Freakish looks, and a fool." Sangu shook his head. "You people are so horribly underwhelming. Why my superiors decided to treaty with you, I’ll never know. But, fine. Give me the scroll."
Obecu bowed as low as he could. He, too, was angered by the fact the facility only had one scroll in he creature’s native language. Sadly, he was also happy that they at least had the one. From his coat he pulled out a metal tube and unfastened the cap. His tiny paws pulled out a scroll and he handed it up to Sangu. All of this he did while bowing.
"When you get back to the Court Hall of War," Obecu tried to cheer, "They'll be sure to have a few more in their stock, and mages who can reproduce as many as are needed. You won’t have to bother speaking with her any longer than your trip over there. For the time being, you’re the most worthy of speaking with her."
"Worthy," Sangu snorted disdainfully. "I am stuck with having to walk her to the Court Hall." Sangu shook his head. "And, I have to be the only one who can talk to her. With any luck, Obecu, she'll be much less annoying than you, or I fear I will have to behead two lowly beasts today."
Obecu gulped dryly. He had the notion Sangu had been agitated, but not enough to do him any harm. He bowed fearfully and tried to sound professional as he suggested, "You need to tell her the story we talked about. She doesn’t see any of this as making sense, and goes into psychotic fits when we try to negotiate with her."
"So, at least she’s insane," Sangu growled while trying to read the scroll. "Maybe we can find a use for her. Though I still don’t see any sense in thinking she can be a warrior."
"I understand your doubt in her, Urcues," Obecu pleaded, "But until the Court makes a judgment, she needs to be under the best impression of us. Besides, a little of what our historians have cooked is true. So you won’t be lying, at least not in entirety."
Sangu had been glancing over the scroll, trying as best he could to pay attention to both it and Obecu’s endless chatter. The magic in the paper caused him to learn a new manner of speaking, writing, and even thinking. The ink of the letters glowed yellow as they were read, then faded away to leave only smudged ash stains on the paper. In moments he had a fresh language in his mind. [I]"Okay, Obecu, release her."[/I] He snarled as Obecu looked up with a fool's expression. Then, he realized, he was speaking in the newly acquired language. With a conscious effort to speak Perbian, he asked again.
Based on the fact she vividly remembered being executed as a heretic, Jeanne could only believe she was in Hell. She had no idea why the demons looked like overgrown cats, but she knew they were infernal by the way they had treated her.
She had spent two days in torturous bondage, only able to listen to the demonic chatter of the hellish feline minions. It sounded like the Latin she’d heard so many times in Mass, but corrupted to a form she could not understand. How ironic, she thought, that in Hell they would speak Latin. The dark world was one of endless chatter for her, so she was paying no attention when a deeper, angrier voice had joined the chorus of high-pitched verses.
Without the ability to talk, Jeanne had been saying endless prayers in her head. She had just begun making a mental prayer to Saint Michael when she felt a swarm of tiny hands yank at her many bonds. The chains and leather straps suddenly came loose, followed by the knot of rags in her mouth, and then the blindfold.
Normally, she would break into a frenzy of prayers upon the removal of her gag, but what was caught in her vision petrified her and struck her dumbfounded.
A proud lion looked down upon her. Standing on its hind legs, the lion-man had to have been at least eight feet tall. His gold fur was complimented by a suit of shining iron plates. Unlike the small cats, he was dignified as a warrior. His appearance was matched only by the engraving of a warrior bear-man on his breast plate.
[I]"You’re Jeanne Darc, correct?"[/I] The words flowed easily from the lion-man’s lips, and in French that Jeanne could understand perfectly.
[I]"Y-yes. I am. Tell me, where am--"[/I]
The lion-man snarled and lashed his mighty hands down at Jeanne’s throat. He had the perfect grip to snap bones and put an end to the conversation, but his rage was subdued by pleas from the black cats. He changed his snarl to a simple grimace and yanked the woman to her feet. He noticed a prayer forming on her lips, which caused a kinder expression to sweep in across his muzzle.
[I]"Lady Darc, I am Sangu Apricar, of the Urcues Order, Iralon High Guard. Now, I know you’ve died. We all have, actually."[/I]
Depressed, but not surprised, by the information, Jeanne lowered her head before quietly asking, [I]"Sir Apricar, Is this Hell?"[/I]
[I]"No, dear Darc. This is Pecota, realm of the souls of animals. This is not Heaven, true, but it is also not Hell or Purgatory. You know animals can’t commit actually sin. Therefore, we end up here, to live a semi-human life before God can judge us."[/I] Sangu spread his arms out to indicate himself and the multitude of black cats in the cell.
[I]"All of us are the embodied souls of animals awaiting the loving embrace of our glorious Lord."[/I] He sighed before adding, [I]"I must apologize for the treatment you’ve undergone. The Perbians, the cats you see, are simple creatures. They don’t have any idea what they’re doing, and were afraid of you."[/I] He thought quickly on his own actions. [I]"And please address me as Urcues. I am no knight, but a member of the Order. I apologize for my temper, but I, too, am simple in mind at times."[/I]
Jeanne nodded. [I]"I understand."[/I] She had to look around to confirm what she was hearing. She had never heard of such an idea, but feared her current situation was proving at least some of what Sangu was saying had to be true. [I]"So, Urcues, you have warriors. That means you have need for war."[/I]
[I]"Indeed. In recent times Lucifer has been sending demons into this realm to corrupt it. He would take our animal souls for himself to spite God. We need help in fighting off this threat so we can move on to Heaven."[/I] He sensed an aura of disbelief growing in Jeanne. [I]"I can prove it. We’ll be leaving to the Court Hall of War for the Perbon government. There they will show you the relics of past wars with demons, and allow you to see some first hand. There, you can make decide whether or not to help us."[/I]
[I]"All I have to do is go with you to a court?"[/I] Jeanne shrugged at the idea of being in another court, recalling how bad it had been for her in her previous life. [I]"Very well. I will go and witness your evidence before deciding. If your plight is true, I can see helping you as a just thing to do."[/I]
Sangu nodded and felt pleased with himself. [I]"Saint Francis would agree with that."[/I] He smiled at Jeanne’s shocked reaction. [I]"Dear Lady Darc, you see, we have been praying to Saint Francis for help, as our patron saint. He decided to send you as an emissary intermediary. After all, Jeanne, you were canonized. You are the patron saint of hope faith and duty within war. You are the embodiment of everything we need to overcome the corruption of this realm."[/I] He wanted to laugh at Jeanne’s slacked and dumbfounded jaw, but kept his thoughts to himself. The story concocted by the Perbian researchers was working better than expected.
[I]"I-I see."[/I] Jeanne’s mind wandered off. She knew she had died, but had no memory afterward. Truly if she were a saint, she would have remembered being an intermediary. Her fears that Sangu might be lying only increased with that information. Still, she needed out of the prison, and if they were offering to walk her out, she may as well agree just for the opportunity to escape. [I]"When do we leave to the court hall?"[/I]
Sangu glanced back to the Perbian black cats, who had been busy gathering travel supplies. They appeared to have everything in order. [I]"We can leave now, Jeanne. Or should I say, Saint Jeanne?"[/I]
Not wanting to incur the wrath of true saints, Jeanne responded, [I]"Jeanne will work."[/I]
[I]"Okay, Jeanne."[/I] Sangu spun around on his heels and headed for the cell door. His impatience was starting to show in his hastened pace. [I]"Let’s get going soon. It’s a ten mile trip, and we’ll just make it before sundown as it is."[/I]
At first Jeanne had hoped the trip would be on horseback. The more she thought about it, though, Pecota’s horses were likely to be two-legged and free of will, as well. Walking felt good, at least, as it was nice to get out and move as a change. It was certainly better than being bound.
The scenery was strange, looking like a barren field of weeds with hills in the distance. The place was mostly yellow and brown, with a few clumps of vegetation making for spots of green scattered very conservatively about the landscape. A pillar of smoke far on the horizon kept catching her eye, though none of the group made an indication they cared.
Unable to fully take in the strangeness of her situation, she kept trying to listen in on the conversations going on around her. Though, the corrupted Latin-like language was impossible for her to decipher.
"I want to know why she keeps looking at me so strangely," Sangu snarled in Perbian while walking with Obecu at the head of the caravan.
"Oh, that," Obecu muttered. "She's from Humilon. Though our worlds have been in contact for eons now, she is most unfamiliar with most anything she sees. For example, on Humilon, lesser versions of my people are actually kept as simple pets. And, Urcues, there exist lesser versions of your noble people. Just, on Humilon, your cousins are regarded as regal beings only to be juxtaposed to most powerful of royal families."
"So seeing me and my kind," he waved a hand back to indicate the two Iralon guards in flowing white tabards who walked with Jeanne, "Makes her think of royalty and power?"
Obecu nodded. "On Humilon they tend to focus on your kind’s prestige, rather than the terrifying power that brings that prestige to you." He sighed to himself, wishing he could be more honest and just call Sangu and terrible savage unworthy of any respect, especially not from his team’s most amazing project. Summoning the dead from another world entirely, especially a world of mighty demons, was something absolutely amazing. Deep in his heart he felt it should be he in command of the team and the object of all praise and respect.
"Prestige not power," Sangu scoffed, almost dismissively. "We’ll see if your researchers are correct." He turned around and charged to the rear of the caravan.
"Urcues!" Obecu knew what was going on immediately. He looked up and regarded the sky with agony. If not for the monsters that had to be fought, his Perbian people would have no need to make alliance with the brutes of Iralon. He followed behind, knowing he would be utterly impotent if any fight should arise.
Sangu dismissed his two Iralon counterparts with a waving hand gesture. They parted and let him at Jeanne. [I]"Ah, there you are, Jeanne. My little cat friend was just telling me that your people looked at Leonta as noble creatures."[/I]
[I]"What?"[/I] Jeanne could sense she was about to be attacked. She was glad that for some reason, not one member of the entire caravan carried a weapon. There was not so much as one walking stick. [I]"Urcues, what are you talking about?"[/I]
[I]"My apologies, Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu said mockingly. [I]"Lions. You see, in my kingdom of Iralon, we call ourselves Leonta. You respect us, right?"[/I]
"Urcues, stop!" Obecu wondered if he should try to use his magic powers to stop Sangu. Hearing the chants of his Perbian brothers, he knew they were already preparing spells. "We need her! Let’s just get to the Court Hall. They will decide her fate, not--"
"Silence, small-ling," Sangu threatened. "I want to see what this thing tastes like. I’m far too curious to see if she even had red blood. Besides, it’s no loss to any of us. Do you really expect me to believe she can help us fight our enemies?"
Knowing she was the focus of the little argument going on before her, Jeanne boomed, [I]"I knew you were lying!"[/I] She spat in Sangu’s direction and continued, [I]"And to answer your question, I think lions are the petty slaves to the British."[/I]
Sangu had a little over two feet of height advantage over his Humilon adversary, and knew not even that was needed to take her out. His natural claws outclassed anything she could possibly hope to fight with on her simple form. [I]"Ah, weak demon, you are not even such. You are a fairy. Gentle and about to be smashed by a superior life form."[/I]
Jeanne quickly said a prayer under her breath, and crossed her heart.
[I]"Foolish monster,"[/I] Sangu growled, [I]"The gods are powerless against us. You pray in vain."[/I]
[I]"There is only one God,"[/I] Jeanne shouted, [I]"And He shall judge you, the true monsters, and see you cast into the lakes of Hell!"[/I]
[I]"Lakes?"[/I] Sangu struggled with the word. He knew it as part of the language scroll, but had no real reference from his own mind. Quickly, it came to him and he hissed in Iralian, [I]"Acuar!"[/I]
The two other Iralon guards snarled at the word and repeated, "Water!" Their claws suddenly came to their sides as they watched their leader, Sangu, prepare his own claws for battle.
[I]"Tell me, mongrel cat-demon,"[/I] Jeanne said with a forceful authority in her voice, [I]"Before I have to kill you, what that smoke is over there."[/I]
[I]"The northern tip of Mendacia. A kingdom of pitiful creatures, though even their most elderly and lame stronger than you. They are falling to our longest ally, Haeresis."[/I]
Jeanne thought about it. For some reason a distant city wall with smoke rising from it reminded her of her past life. She felt a need to do something while the cats around her chose to ignore it. [I]"Fine. I will help them immediately after sending you to answer for your sins."[/I]
[I]"You’ll send me nowhere!"[/I] Sangu lashed at Jeanne with his claws, catching her and causing a trickle of crimson to run along his fingers, but he had no time to tell as he was suddenly slammed to the ground.
Jeanne would have fought back, but the pain in her face was overwhelming. She doubled over with her hands over her head, trying to calm from the throbbing and strike back at her assailant. Fortunately for her, she saw him fall to her feet at the same moment she started to hear sizzling and popping in the air.
While her right eye was covered in too much blood to see, she was able to look out with her left and see the little black cat-demons casting fire spells at the lions. They succeeded in stopping her presumed murder, but took every bit of effort to match the lions. Ten black cats fell to the two lions at the same time their infernal magic took out the lions. All that was left was one black cat, and Sangu’s smoking body.
Obecu wanted to cry, knowing it was the end of the line. Nobody would ever know of his proud accomplishment, especially if Sangu got up to finish what he started. He desperately tried to think of how to use his own magic to save himself and his project. The most he could summon in his haste, however, were large wasps that could only sting at the recovering Sangu.
Finally, Obecu realized it was either brilliant mage, or brilliant creation. He had to choose, and started to shed tears with his decision. He stood his ground with his wasps as Sangu rose to his feet. He quickly turned to Jeanne once more and shouted an order.
Maybe it was that she was learning their language, or maybe it was the sheer obviousness of it, but Jeanne was able to understand the corrupted Latin for once. As the black cat screamed, [I]"Fugesat,"[/I] she understood the command, [I]"Flee!"[/I]
As she turned and headed toward the smoke in the distance, she said a prayer to Saint Francis for the little black cats, even if she believed they had to be demons.
The Mendacian city in the distance was not really so far as it had seemed. Though the buildings were similar to those she remembered from her own world, they were in a scale much smaller than she had ever seen before. A two-story mansion barely came up to her waist. As for the best of the city walls, they only came up to her neck.
Beyond the walls, she found more infernal magic at use. Then again, it only made the fight fair. The inhabitants were only inches high, and were humanoid versions of tiny silver foxes. They tried their best to defend with all their might against terrible siege machines launching fire barrages.
In control of the machines were savage and terrifying beasts, the likes of which she had never seen before. Nine or maybe ten feet tall, they looked lion-like, but were much bulkier in build, almost bear-like. Their size was not their most intimidating aspect, however. From the closest inspections she could get while hiding in the fields, she found that the attackers had giant fangs that hung down from their mouths like pairs of ivory sabers.
After getting her best reconnaissance on the situation, she started to determine if she could help, and if she should. Even if the foxes were using magic, perhaps she could preach to them after saving them. They were animals, after all. The saber-fanged bearcats, however, were the first true sight of actual demons that she could not deny. She felt it necessary to eradicate them.
It only took her moments to make up a tactical decision. The foxes were losing. That much was obvious by the fact half their tiny city was drowned in flames. Sitting and defending was proving deadly. She needed to lead them into a charge against their attackers.
She said a prayer to Saint Michael and then ordered to the fox city, [I]"Come, follow me! God will lead us all to victory!"[/I] Realizing the difference in language would present a problem, she shouted again, [I]"Impetus!"[/I] She snatched one of the city’s flagpoles from a fortified tower, complete with a white banner containing a gold ring in the middle, and ran with it.
Swarms of foxes rose from their entrenched positions to watch the psychopath first steal from their city, and then charge at the attackers. They began to think on her words and actions, and repeated her, in their own rendition, proving they had finally understood. With a unanimous, [I]"Imptrisa,"[/I] they broke from their burning city and followed her.
By the time Jeanne came into striking distance with the first of the giant saber-fangs, a dozen of the tiny foxes had magically found their way to her shoulders. Hundreds flew in swarms around her, and hundreds more yet ran along the ground all along her. They were a cheering, yet angry, throng of creatures turned deadly by her charge.
The closest bearcat had raised a huge scimitar at Jeanne’s approach, but never even prepared to strike as a thousand tiny spikes of ice struck him down. Other incoming enemies were shot down with followed ice spells, with a few electrical bolts thrown in. It was like a tiny lightning storm and blizzard had come to life all around Jeanne. The entire time, they chanted, [/i]"Morit Sablya!"[/i]
Jeanne found she never had to find a weapon of her own. All she had to do was run with her adopted banner, heading toward any of the accursed Sablya, and the foxes took care of the rest. Though the tiny enchanted creatures took heavy losses as the bearcats swung scimitars and clubs alike into her allies, they were so numerous they were able to keep fighting, and strike attackers coming from any angle. Surrounded many times in her head-on charge, Jeanne found it fantastic that her entourage was able to bring her out safely. The fireball catapults that had done to much damage to the city could not be turned inward in time, and Jeanne and the foxes quickly gained a clear advantage.
With a quarter of their soldiers wiped out within minutes, the rest of the Sablyar called for a retreat. Jeanne dropped to her knees in prayer, overwhelmed by the sense of accomplishment she felt from the victory. Suddenly, voices and ringing came into her head, but before she could tell if they were divine in origin, the wound to her head took over and she faded into unconsciousness.
The repair to the city would take a long time, Jeanne surmised. Talking to the foxes was impossible, as only a handful of Latin words were similar enough to the language of the Puk, which the foxes called themselves. Though neither she nor the foxes understood each other, the foxes were always more than willing to sit and listen to her attempted sermons on the sins of using magic.
The preaching did nothing to stop them from rebuilding their city with magic, however. She spent three days picking up sections of walls and buildings for them without making any headway in trying to get them to stop their spellcasting.
At the end of the third day, Jeanne was looking forward to the little town gathering the foxes liked to hold every sunset. Full of singing, dancing and apparent storytelling, she always enjoyed the sight of it, demonic or not. At least it was entertaining, and she direly needed entertainment while recovering from the loss of her right eye.
During the gathering, a song was not the first act, however. Instead, a small black cat was escorted in by the more militant and less playful of the city’s populace. The cat-demon bowed at the sight of Jeanne and wore a coat much like the others she had been with days earlier.
[I]"Saint Jeanne Darc, you are unmistakable, even injured as you are,"[/I] said the cat, in a voice that seemed to indicate he was happy and angry at the same time. [I]"I am Pravo Lejer, historian on the Daman War Project. We haven’t met, but I believe you met my half-brother, Obecu Propria."[/I]
Jeanne nodded. The name Obecu sounded familiar, and she was sure it was the name of the creature that sacrificed itself to save her. [I]"Yes, he protected me from the lion, er, the Urcues. That savage took his life, and the life of your cousins. I am sorry to inform you."[/I]
[I]"Lady Darc, there is no need to apologize."[/I] He dusted off his coat before sitting near her. Apparently, he felt no need for formal stand and greet routines. [I]"Obecu is the summoner who brought you here. There was a whole team of us who worked to get you here, and most died with that incident. In fact, that very incident is the very reason I’m here."[/I]
Jeanne looked off to the sunset. [I]"Are you here to threaten me?"[/I]
[I]"Not exactly. You see, I’ve come from the Court of War. They’re angry with me, Lady Darc, not you. My team brought you here to help us. We, uh, prayed to Saint Francis desperately to make sure you came. And here you are! But, that incident with the members of the Urcues Order has put our treaty on shaky ground."[/I]
[I]"Treaty?"[/I] Jeanne shook her head, still facing away to the sunset. [I]"Why would you make treaty with such savages?"[/I]
Pravo sulked for a half-second. [I]"It isn’t something any of us like, but as you can see, the people of my own kingdom are far too weak to wage war against the demons that threaten us. We need help, and that, Iralon is more than able to do. They may be savage, and they are probably insane, but at least we have a better chance working together."[/I]
[I]"So? I am not part of either kingdom. Leave me be. I wish to help these poor creatures."[/I] Jeanne felt ready to wave her visitor away.
[I]"That is exactly what caused my trip. You see, you were brought here by my people, through the efforts of the Kingdom of Perbon. But, you also caused the massacre of members of the Iralon High Guard. That puts our treaty on dangerous ground, but then you come here and help the Puk. Jeanne, I can tell you honestly that helping the Puk and their Kingdom of Mendacia would normally be a primary interest of my people."[/I]
[I]"Then why is there none brave enough to come and help these poor souls?"[/I] Jeanne stood, ready to walk away, her emotions downed by the annoyance of the black cat.
[I]"Because, the forces you frightened off, the Sablya of Haeresis, are close allies with Iralon."[/I]
[I]"What!?"[/I] Jeanne was hardly able to keep herself from leaping at Pravo. [I]"I thought they were the demons that needed to be fought!"[/I]
Pravo stood too, shaking his head. [I]"No, the Sablya are like us, stray animal souls waiting for redemption. The demons we need to fight are much, much worse than anything the Sablya can muster. Can I have your word to come with me to the Court Hall and talk to the ministry? We need you. Not only to lead us as well as you did the Puk, but also to stop endangering all of us by threatening to break our treaty."[/I]
[I]"No."[/I] Thinking the situation may call for her to be ready to fight, Jeanne put her hand on the hilt of her sword. To her it was, anyway. To the Sablya it had merely been a small camping knife.
[I]"Dear Lady Darc,"[/I] Pravo said in fake reassurance, [I]"I’m no threat to you! In fact, I had your safety at the height of my goals with this meeting."[/I]
[I]"Then--"[/I] Jeanne stopped talking as soon as she saw Pravo point away from the sunset. On the horizon were the figures of war machines and warriors alike.
[I]"The Sablya will take this city, Jeanne,"[/I] Pravo said coldly. [I]"And this time they have brought their allies. That means Iralon troops, and Perbon mages. We’re all coming, and I had thought I could talk you out of something stupid. Now I see I was wrong."[/I] He shrugged. [I]"Can I at least count on your surrender?"[/I]
Unable to contain her emotions, and further unable to really speak to her newfound friends, Jeanne shouted, [I]"Morit Sablya! Morit Iralon!"[/I] She looked to Pravo and continued, [I]"Morit Perbon!"[/I] As the tiny fox-people took arms with her battlecry, she boomed, [I]"Imptrisa!"[/I]
"I guess not," Pravo muttered in Perbian as the army rose and charged around him. In the back of his mind, he was happy he had survived his messenger trip into the Puk city. He watched Jeanne run quickly away from him and toward the enemy lines, feeling a bit of pride that his creation at least had a true will of her own.
Over Jeanne’s head, fireballs shot down from the war machines ahead. They struck behind her and her army, doing damage to the city itself. Squads of Sablya attacked with swords at Jeanne as she charged with her pretty banner in hand. With it overhead, she felt indestructible. None of the intercepting squads could touch her.
With each attack her army killed a handful of Sablya, but she was starting to wonder what the trinity army had in store for her. A few more Sablya attacks were attempted, each time with her foxes downing the enemies before taking any real casualties. Suddenly, the little ice spikes and lightning bolts shot by the foxes were outshined by new magic. Fire rained down directly on them.
Jeanne tried to dodge the firebolts shot by the Perbon mages, and never once thought of using her own banner to shield her from the heat. That decision came at a price, and she was burned in a dozen or more places by the little flames. It was not long before her stride took on clear signs of a heavy limp.
The little foxes did what they could to fight back, but their range was worse, and they began to get struck down. Where the bolts only wounded Jeanne, they were fatal to the Puk. Still, she charged onward, and they rode, ran and flew right along with her.
In the time it took to cross the distance between the fox city and the enemy position, she had time to say a prayer to Saints Michael, Catherine and Margaret. She even had some time to spare for a prayer to Saint Francis for the foxes. She knew she would need every bit of help she could get.
While crossing empty distance, she never expected an ambush. Perbon mages appeared from nowhere, as if they teleported with magic right to her sides, and pelted her forces with firebolts. Jeanne felt deep sorrow as she knew the foxes were gone. Surrounded, she stopped in her tracks. She tried to raise her sword to fight, but was knocked down by fire that burned at every part of her.
It was too familiar. Too frightening. She curled into a ball on the ground, praying frantically for help, and fearing she would not get an answer.
Sangu stepped forward from the ring of mages as they parted to let him through. He chuckled proudly and drew his sword, now having a scabbard at his side. To the mages, he ordered, "Join the rest in taking the city. This one is mine, and all mine."
Jeanne felt Sangu’s heavy hand grab her by the throat and force her to her feet.
[I]"Stand and fight, Saint Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu seemed to order. [I]"Get your knife and fight me. I never eat anything that doesn’t put up a fight. And I’m still curious as to what you taste like."[/I]
[I]"Find judgment and go to your place in Hell!"[/I] Jeanne took a wild swing with her sword, causing the charred ends of red hair to fly in front of her face. [I]"Demon!"[/I]
[I]"I’m not the demon, Jeanne,"[/I] Sangu said with a growl. He thought over what to say for a moment while unfastening the buttons on his collar. With a little loosening on his neck, he felt just the slightest bit more casual. [I]"Everything you think is a lie, Jeanne. You did die, and you were brought here. But it wasn’t Saint Whatever who did it. Patron saint of apples, latrines and the environment? Or was it parasites and the French?"[/I]
[I]"Do not defile those who know only holiness. You are unworthy to even think the name of any saint!"[/I]
[I]"Right, sure. I don’t like your superstitions, either, Jeanne. Whether they exist or not, they didn’t bring you here. We did. The little black furballs. You are the product of a summoning project. You were picked by the Perbians because they thought your world to hold powerful demons. Their research led them to believe you’d be a fine leader in a desperate battle."[/I]
[I]"Oh shut up! I won’t listen to your lies!"[/I] Jeanne could hear the destruction of the city walls behind her, as well as the victorious cries from the army.
[I]"You hear that, Jeanne? We’re getting what we want."[/I] Sangu pointed to the distance with his sword, still walking around her to keep her on her feet, but never engaging. [I]"I promise I won’t talk you to death, but I’m trying to explain. There is no Super Mega Majesty God. We simply found you in the life flow, the place were the energy of dead beings go. There is no Heaven or Hell, just a place of dark matter that can’t be seen. A place where the energy of your being goes on. We brought you back, Jeanne. Or, I should say, we brought an echo of you back."[/I] He smiled with the words, [I]"You aren’t even the real Jeanne Darc. You’re just a pathetic, lowly copy."[/I]
Though Jeanne had felt there was something wrong with her new life, she could not accept what Sangu was saying was true. That was, until Sangu held up a mirror to her face. The rd hair she knew about, but not the blue eye, or the completely different face. She knew her body was different, but not as drastically as she could tell by being able to see it in the mirror. [I]"I. I’m not. M-me."[/I]
[I]"So now, Jeanne, you see? You could have had a great life with us, helping us."[/I] He nodded playfully before throwing the mirror aside. [I]"We did need your help tackling an enemy."[/I] He pointed upwards. [I]"We needed your help to kill the gods. The real ones. I order to do that, we needed a strong life force. One that was a leader, one good at desperate battles, but most of all, one who was a god herself. Saint Jeanne, the Perbians thought you good enough to join us. Now I can say without a doubt as I look at your deformed face, I was right to doubt you all along."[/I]
[I]"Enough of this!"[/I] Jeanne tried to slash again at Sangu, but he was far too agile for her. [I]"I’ll yet strike you down, demon! You will be sent to the lakes of Hell."[/I]
[I]"Acuar,"[/I] Sangu hissed. [I]"At least, when I die, I won’t need to be scared. You, however, you’ll die right now. And you’ll do so terrified that you’re nothing more than a demon’s creation, on a demon world. Which means you’ll be the one cast into the lakes."[/I] He laughed maniacally before moving in to attack.
Jeanne blocked the strike with her sword, but was unable to break and make her own maneuver. Instead, Sangu broke first and forced her on the defensive with a flurry of blade strikes. On the last swipe of his strikes, he tried to remove Jeanne’s head, which caused her to duck and roll. Right over he banner.
Sangu stabbed down at Jeanne, prepared to end the battle, but was slapped on the side of the head by the flagpole turned banner. He stumbled backward, angry that his reflexes gave Jeanne time to get to her feet and prepare her own strike.
Jeanne was reckless enough to move right in on Sangu, who it turned out was just as reckless. He caught the sword in his hand, quickly covering his arm and Jeanne’s front in crimson. Using his free hand, he swung at her head. He managed a good slice at her scalp before she dodged the shot by letting go of her sword.
Sangu fumbled with his injured hand to hold Jeanne’s captured sword. In his mighty grip, the looked more like the knife it was supposed to be. He smiled cruelly at Jeanne, who stood opposite him with only a stick and a piece of fabric. [I]"No God at all."[/I]
Jeanne felt enraged by the blasphemy. With the cheers growing ever louder from the conquered city, she spared a glance to realize the joy the trinity army was celebrating was not the conquering of the city, but the wanton destruction of every one of its structures. She felt like praying, but then wondered if the words were true. Was she a saint?
Voices entered her head. Not divine will. No message of victory or hope. Instead, she was filled with calls for help. Was she really a patron saint of hope and determination in battle? Maybe she could even return and become the living saint of her homeland. She wondered just how long she had actually been dead.
As the voices grew, in French and in Puk, she felt empowered. Rather than pray to a saint, or even to her Lord, she decided to pray to herself. She swore she would make sure justice would be done, and she would care for the weak and those who need hope.
Jeanne finished her prayer out loud, [I]"This I will do. I swear. So help me God!"[/I]
Sangu snickered at the show, believing it a bluff. He could lunged forward with his injured off hand, and swung down with his main hand. There would be no way Jeanne could dodge without somehow getting hurt.
Jeanne, to both their surprise, stood her ground. She struck at both weapons, each with an end of her stick, deflecting blows but also putting her right in Sangu’s path. With a quick turn of her banner staff, she managed to slip the broken end in a gap just under Sangu’s breast plate. The gushing squishy sound was a testament to Jeanne’s determination.
With his life slipping away, Sangu let go of his swords and slammed his fists down at Jeanne’s shoulders. Though he heard a definite snap, he failed to kill her, or even break enough bones to release the woman from her impaling stance on him. He grimaced as he thought of one last thing to do. He put his weak hands around her neck and squeezed down with all his remaining strength.
Both warriors fell to the ground together in the vastness of the empty field. Beyond them, the three armies cheered at their victory, completely oblivious to the duel’s end.
Though dismissed by Perbon, Iralon and Haeresis, the story of Saint Jeanne went on for a time. The people of Mendacia quickly adopted her as a deity who would lead them to victory and freedom from their enemies. In the final days of their war with the Trinity Alliance, the Puk populace had a prayer they would say to their new deity:
The Timber Grove Chronicles
Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Edit: I do realize the thread ain't locked, but I'm certainly not going to edit my entry to try to spiff it up. This is how I entered it, so I'm willing to accept the point deductions for silly stuff like forgetting to put the word "sword" in a sentence. All my fault.
The Timber Grove Chronicles
Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Adherence to Prompt: 5. Seems to be Joan, though I really think her execution and then appearing in a hellish place like this would leave her a bit more unbalanced. Not to mention, a bit pyrophobic?
Spelling/Grammar: 4.5. A few missing commas
Characterization: 8. Sangu is quite well done, but Joan, I think, should be a little more… something. They mention that she goes into ‘psychotic rages’ when confronted with her situation, but actually seeing one would help. Consider that she thought herself on the way to Paradise, and ends up here… I’d think she’d be more desperate, or heartbroken, or something.
Plot/Structure: 8.5. Everything meshes well, story drew me in.
Style: 7. Pretty good, one or two awkward points. The one that glared out for me: “Nine or maybe ten feet tall, they looked lion-like, but were much bulkier in build, almost bear-like.” Sounds repetitive, could easily have used ‘almost like a bear’ at the end and sounded better for it. Also, you POV switch within scenes, which is somewhat jarring when much of the story seems to be third person limited. Finally, “The gushing squishy sound was a testament to Jeanne’s determination.” I’m sorry, but “squishy” completely ruins the scene. Far too comedic sounding a word.
Creativity: 10. What can I say? Part Joan, part Gulliver, part Watership Down… have Joan survive the end, this could make a wonderful beginning of a long adventure saga that I picture as an anime for some reason.
Total: 43. I’d love to see more of this. The image of Joan leading a charge of tiny fox people is both cool and cute at the same time. Finally, the adaptation of the prayer to Saint Joan is a fine touch at the end, and probably the only ‘epilogue’ ending I’ve seen in this contest that works well.
Trades
Articles
Winner of SSC 1 & ">3 & 6
To be totally honest, I think you were generous with the Spelling/Grammar score.
Oh, you can say that again. I truly wish I had left myself enough time to develop her character a little more. I am glad a Joan of Arc expert liked my take on her, though.
Thanks for pointing that out. Those weaknesses are something I overlooked in my writing before. I'll certainly work on them in future writing now that they've been brought into question. I'm glad to have entered this contest, because it makes for great exposure and some honest critique to improve for the future. Again: Thanks!
Though at first I thought writing about Joan of Arc would be very awkward for someone who enjoys fantasy writing as much as I do, I grew to like her the more I read about her, and especially once I started writing her. I hope the ending isn't too obvious about a continuation, but at the same time, I hope it does make further visits to this storyline at least a bit expected. And yes, I am already working on the next part, which may or may not tell the outcome of Joan, but will certainly tell the tale of the Puk and their war against the Trinity Alliance.
Oh, thank you very, very much! You wouldn't believe how much trouble coming up with the proper ending was for me. I had this story idea since I first read the contest prompt, but avoided writing because I wasn't sure how to wrap things up in a way that worked. I blame that for assisting my Procrastination Proficiency (level 10!) rolls. However, I credit the prayer to Saint Joan with motivating me to finally write this story (even if it was at the last minute.)
The Timber Grove Chronicles
Vampires, angels, organized crime, magic, mystery. And yes, even...talking cats. It has everything!
Spelling/Grammar: 4 - No major problems
Characterization: 4 - I had a lot of trouble following all of your exotic names. I didn't figure out who was who until at least halfway through. Also, Joan's actions didn't feel consistant to me -- they all happened because the plot needed them to. I have no emotional involvement with the Puk.
Plot/Structure: 6 - The plot was capable and you accomplished everything you needed to. Sadly, I just didn't feel invested. The plot is very ambitious, but the obscurity of the names and places alienated me, and I never felt the plot rose above standard fantasy tropes.
Style: 6 - I wasn't sure how to score you here. I went for the above-average 6 because, like for reasons mentioned above, your style is good but not spectacular. Your story is very ambitious, and the name "Puk" is awesome, but nothing else felt different from any other fantasy story. The problem stems from your story being too in love with its concept. The latin names especially, you're too concerned with the fact that Sangu "means" blood and not concerned enough with making Sangu breathe. It feels very... top-down.
Creativity: 6 - Your idea isn't bad, but I can't get past my initial impression of the story: Joan of Arc in Narnia IN HELL. I like how Joans strength is from when she's attacking. I'll admit I've thought of designing her as a magic card, where she and all attacking creatures get +2/+0 only while attacking
Total: 30
By Deimographica
Ambitious, thy name is Deimographica.
Comments
Like "Hellion," this story feels like it wants to be much, much bigger, and so suffers for being constricted to the short story form. An epic finish in search of an epic beginning and epic middle.
A bigger problem is the extraneous feeling of Joan – you could substitute almost any historical or original figure here, swap out their weaknesses for Joan's, and do the same tale. Specifically, this feels like an M:tG story in an M:tG setting of your own design, with Joan added because she was the topic chosen for the contest.
That said, there's a lot of promise here. It just doesn't feel like the promise is as a Joan story, but as your own original work. That feels like where you're comfortable writing, but your Joan comes off as gullible, even placeholder.
The scope of your world is huge, and you've posed a needless challenge to yourself by trying to cram all of this original, creative material into a Joan story. If you don't write to fit the assigned format on a work-for-hire job, you're unlikely to get a second contract.
0-5 Adherence to Prompt: This isn't just "Is Joan of Arc in the story." This is "Does she seem like Joan of Arc?" Historical innacuracies will come out of here, though I'll likely be the only one to dock for that.
2.5
This score was a "1" until the end, when a real-feeling Joan poked her head into the story. I just wish there was more of a need for Joan, specifically, to be the one in this story. She's a Christ figure, not just a Christian figure, a paradoxical character with lots of potential to her, but Joan seems to be in this story to fulfill a needed plot device.
0-5 Spelling and Grammar: Sefl-esplanator.y Don't neglect this - Scavenger had a few spelling errors, and lost last round by half a point. These are not hard points to get, so don't take them for granted.
4
Solid work here for the most part. I have some style gripes, but those are for later.
0-10 Characterization: How well are your characters (all of them) developed? Are they believable? Do they come alive to the readers, or are they just flat archetypes?
5
Character development was thin—I think the need to present action scenes, and to introduce an entire new world, left little room for fully fleshed-out characters. Not one of them did anything truly unpredictable, and Joan spent much of the story as a fairly generic "stranger in a strange land" type character.
0-10 Plot and Structure: Does everything flow well? Does the story make coherant sense? Do we care about what happens, at the same time as not being able to see everything coming?
5
You've got a well-thought out plot, but I think the structure of your plot was buried, again, in the need to introduce so many concepts, creatures, names, etc. The twist was surprising, but because of other character problems with Joan, it wasn't as compelling as it could have been.
0-10 Style: How effective your words are. How well you use symbolism, imagery, voice, and all those other mystical writing concepts.
6
The epic feel of the action sequences was undercut by characters that spoke in anachronistic ways—"Super Mega Majesty God" and so forth. The style also feels rushed, once again because, I think, your ambition is bigger than a short story can contain.
On the other hand, I added points for some sweet fight scenes.
0-10 Creativity: Just because you have to use a well-documented historical figure, doesn't mean you can't be creative about it.
6.5
This story is overflowing with creativity—almost too much (I'm starting to sound like a broken record). I certainly don't object to transplanting Joan into a strange fantasy setting, but I don't know that you needed quite as much detail. It made matters confusing. I dig those little foxes, though -- the animal imagery, the well-paced fight sequences, and the way the legend of Goddess Jeanne evolves at the end is nifty.
Total: 29