RAID
†
（きじ を 絢部う）
A DOUBTFUL WOUND
Herbs have been common medicine since the beginning of ages. Simple stalks from aloe plants, a spice here a mild acid based liquid there. Natural plant properties are not meant treat massive wounds or any type of deadly disease. However in the unlikely situation presented before Soukai Warder, herbs were the catalyst between life and death. “Elisia…” whispered a broken and twisted Soukai. He stood in the doorway of his less than formidable residence. The entryway contained many carvings and symbols runic in nature, glowing fiercely as Soukai passed through the rectangular archway. They served as a shield from the Crossier of Raid. If you are an enemy to every last demonic effigy be it on the plane of Cross or Raid, precautionary measures should be taken. Soukai’s loving sister sat at a small wooden table on the opposite side of the room. Her face was contorted into a devastated look of concern. Soukai held pressure on his left shoulder with his right arm, broken in multiple places. His clothing ripped and tattered, dripping wet with crimson tinted blood. He collapsed on the dust speckled floor of his small dwelling. Soukai’s outsized sword the first to hit solid ground smashing into the dirt floor. Metallic ringing of the alloy smashing into the earth reverberated off the makeshift walls of the cottage.
Elisia, having taken care of her brother for many a year sprinted to his lifeless body. Rolling him onto a padded rug she helped him assume a sitting position. She reached for the medical supplies, which were located in the same spot they had been for months, just above the kettle on the left side pantry. Being skilled in medicine her instincts took hold rather hastily. She removed a rubber surgical hose and five feet of gauze wrappings from the kit. Her knowledge of toxins told her to suppress the poison racing to Soukai’s heart, his very life force. She cut the circulation of his left arm at the shoulder with the hose and quelled the bleeding simultaneously. She finished the procedure by wrapping the wound in gauze, preventing the thick blood from achieving its lust for freedom. The whole act took naught but seconds to perform, although each second Soukai was left untreated with proper antitoxin left him closer to an avoidable death.
Elisia replaced her blood stained clothes with robes light brown in color: A deep linen hood to protect her face from dust. Her tunic equipped with belts, straps, and chains each serving an individual purpose unidentified by any but herself. Her tan slacks made of material so thick no simple blade could puncture and she set off to help her poisoned sibling.
Elisia exited by the same path Soukai entered, past his trail of blood through the vast land of Cross, over the piles of defeated dusts that had once been Crossier. Crossier of course, only one name of many, being the courteous term in the world of Cross. Some call them Scourge, others Hell Demons; poor souls deserve neither of these titles. A minor race in this world of Cross, they are spit at and mistreated because of their unfortunate demonic ancestry. Simply attempting to escape their world of Raid, Crossier are civil and well behaved when shown respect. However they feed off of fear, not so literally as figuratively. The political forces of Cross feel no sympathy for these minorities. Any Crossier found living within the walls of Cross are sentenced to unfair punishment, death by the Cross Division, which is where my brother Soukai comes in.
He is a mercenary, a warrior forced into this position through unfair blood ties. I can not work as such, being female is reason enough. So as an alternate I receive the same benefits as my brother, a provided home, abundance of food, safety from the law, and ageless immortality (given that he survive through this hardship). Ageless immortality has its advantages yet does not protect from unnatural death. Today is the day I have foreseen in my nightmares.
Soukai is closer to death then ever before, but he will not die as long as I still breathe.
My destination is Raid. The very place I intended to never return, as is the will of my brother. However certain circumstances require my disobedience. I intend to collect darkroot, a potent herb indigenous to Raid, as well as a remedy to the deadly toxin produced by a Stalker. The smallest of all Crossier, yet the deadliest poison of all laces their dagger-like fingertips. They are similar to a dwarf’s in stature, although much more lengthy, and cursed with blindness. A Stalker will do just as it intendeds to. Lurking in the shade and following its target for unyielding amounts of time, these beings can hold grudges for up to centuries, nay, decades in duration. Soukai may have exorcised a close relation of the Stalker, only to have it stab him in the back… err more accurately his shoulder.
My thoughts of Crossier and Demonic decent halted, for my destination loomed overhead. I stood before a gnarled and dark basin of swirling blackness tilted on its side, the main portal to the realm of Raid. Not many people have an excuse to enter this horrible mess of a dimensional fissure. I’ve been through other rifts in my extensive life, but this main portal, this demonic rift exceeded the threshold of sanity. I put away any thought of the terrible pain I would shortly feel from being ripped apart and reassembled on the netherworld. Taking the few steps into a blackened void my nerves became rigid.
Raid; a planar dimension parallel with Cross, terribly notorious for it’s less than hospitable characteristics. High velocity winds kick filth into the sky. Blotting out whatever star may or may not light the dismal realm. Shadows obstruct all sense of hope; jagged pillars of a once formidable civilization remain strewn across the hell scorched plains.
Frizzzzzz… CRACK!!! Elisia sliced through the air headfirst from the portal. Her inexperience with larger portal travel left little room for a soft landing. Dirt and flakes of grunge sprayed overhead, her less than elegant contact with the ground resulted in more damage to the terrain rather than shattering her frail frame. She still felt a pain-stricken sense of shock, being shredded into a trillion pieces, incinerated, and flung from the rift intrigued and nauseated Elisia concurrently. She stood from her newly formed crater shaking violently. Pain coursed through her every vein burning with every beat of the heart. The effects of rift travel can overwhelm even the strongest of warriors. The duration however is brief. The worst of the rift sickness ending, her mission was to resume. Continuing on her way could not be taken lightly she had limited time to find, and prepare the Darkroot to Soukai, lest he fade into dust just as the Crossier may. Elisia pulled from her cloak a small scroll inscribed with arcane runes; underneath the runes was translated text legible to any literate human. She began an evocation to protect herself from Raid’s natural decaying effect. Without the scroll and incantation any human who sets foot in Raid would become more demonic in mind and body. With the intention to return to her sickened brother she could not afford to turn Crossier. Wielding a pole arm, lanced at the tip, Elisia continued onward to the center of Raid, the Darkroot tree. She kept a quick and noble pace, her mind flowing with good intentions towards the Crossier. “If you respect them they respect you” she thought. Her breath was steady drawing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Elisia showed no wavering concentration; she had been to Raid many times before, however her most recent visit had shaken her mind and courage. Her memory served vivid, imagining the wound she had nearly suffered in a small town near the main city capital of Raid. Encountering many Crossier she panicked and fled from the town. Her quick decision caused her to collide into a Wraith. The Wraith simply retaliated to this mistake and drew his sword. When Elisia declined his duel the Wraith became offended and attempted to bring his sword down upon her shoulder. Soukai had intercepted his sister’s attacker with his bare hands. That day he lost a massive amount of blood; his hands were cut and torn from the Wraith’s razor sharp blade. His scars continue to grow in number every time he fights his ongoing struggle with the Crossier.
Elisia’s first obstacle came into view, the town of Ura’ Shal. The very same Ura’ Shal had been the location of her near death months ago. The demonic encampment littered with tattered cloth and vengeful Crossier reminded her of cold memories. Out of the four Crossier encampments Ura’ Shal was the lowest in term of rank and cleanliness. The streets of Ura’ Shal, plagued with sickened Crossier, the buildings crumbled to ruin brought no hospitality.
The town, as is all of Raid, views dull and listless, the coherent gray color of the bricks combined with the blood stained earth created the perfect ambiance of dismal, and spiraling depression. Elisia continued on her path to the solemn town shaking off her own horrid memories.
