Style Quest: Hunted

 Requinest was not a welcoming planet at all. The chains of their long-dead master no longer shackle the hoards of undead creatures. Varick and Gard ran from zombies and ghouls while trying to get to any other survivors they could. As night fell, the two managed to save many crew members, but the undead killed many more crew members before they could be rescued. The crew members set up A survivor’s camp in the burnt-out ruins of an old city.

 

“Here, eat and drink,” Gard commanded as he shoved food and water in Varick’s face. The mahogany Clydesdale had found himself a dark corner to curl up. In less than a day, Varick had lost almost everything he owned, the man the Clydesdale thought he loved tried to kill him, and he’d spent the day fleeing the army of undead that now inhabited his birth planet. He was in no mode to eat or drink, but the horse took the offered provisions.

 

“Thanks,” Varick spat, barely looking at Gard. In the light from the fires, the red-skinned tiefling’s features showed only concern. A curious bleet announced the arrival of Varick’s pet volai, Layla. She had been through a lot today as well. Layla settled beside Varick, falling asleep with her head in his lap. 

 

“She’s got the right idea,” Gard remarked, watching Layla. “Try to get some rest after you eat. We’ll see if we can scavenge enough to force a portal in the morning.” The tiefling left to climb the husk of one of the buildings to look for a vantage point. Varick ate a little and had a few sips of the water before settling into a restless slumber.

 

Dawn had yet to break when an alarm woke Varick from his rest. Undead creatures had surrounded the survivor camp. They weren’t attacking but just stood there waiting for an order. Varick was ushered to the center of the base as the crew members all stood with their weapons ready. Gard stood at the head of the camp when a black fox with a foul aura made his way through the undead. Decay and rot filled the air around the vulpine as Varick realized that this was Syph. An improperly sized gold canine tooth glistened in the light of the fire. He looked so much different than Varick remembered from Lyra. Granted, the horse was dealing with the pain of being in a cable car crash and a broken leg, so his memory might not have been perfect.

 

“No more of you insignificant inconsequentials have to die if you just give me the horse,” Syph relayed in a low, raspy voice before he cackled fiendishly. “He is the only one my master desires, none of the rest of you.” There was a shift in the ambient magic when the fox mentioned his master. All the undead abominations shifted and turned to look at Syph.

 

“Perhaps you’d like to arm wrestle for him,” Gard sarcastically offered as he popped his neck. A laugh from Syph was all the signal the undead hoard needed to swarm the camp. Varick was ready to fight, but one of the survivors grabbed the horse and shoved him down an old underground tunnel with Layla. A shining button on the tailor’s vest lit up the decrepit tunnel as he went through them with the volai.

 

A few dead ends and cave-ins led the pair to a large subterranean chamber. Foul necromantic energy surrounded a large green crystal in the center of the room. Terrible memories of the last time Varick was in this room flooded back to him. Last time he was only three, but that was almost twenty years ago. How could this still be here? As the blonde Clydesdale started to panic, a voice called out for help. Varick managed to find someone chained to the wall. The now dimming light from his button revealed the wolf hawk captain of the Harlock Two, Tabious.

 

“Varick,” Tabious asked, confused by the horse’s appearance. Someone had opened Deep cuts all over the wolf hawk’s body. The injuries ruined all of Tabious’s flight feathers and would probably require magical healing. Using his fire magic, Varick melted the chains holding Tabious to the wall and carefully laid him on the ground. Layla had been pacing in the room but came over to investigate as Varick began to pull out a need and some thread. “Don’t worry 

about me. Go and save yourself.”

 

“No. Now be quiet. This is going to hurt,” Varick hissed as he started sewing the wounds shut. Tabious, to his credit, managed to stay relatively still as the Clydesdale sewed the wounds closed with blue spell thread. Almost all the injuries were tended to when the crystal in the room glowed brighter in response to someone walking in.

 

“Nice of you to save me the trouble of dragging you here myself,” Syph evilly cackled as Varick whirled to see the black fox striding into the room. Blood and viscera that didn’t look like they belonged to him covered the fox. “Looks like I managed to chase my final girl right back to where all this began. You remember being here all those years ago, don’t you? This time there is no one coming to save you.” More memories flooded Varick’s mind as Syph continued talking. Painful flashbacks of when the horse was little and the coyote lich tortured him in this chamber hit one after another. A harrowing one highlighted an essential detail for Varick.

 

“That’s his gold tooth,” the horse growled as needles appeared in both hands. Syph grinned wide as Varick threw the needles. None of the projectiles hit their target as the fox lunged forward with a black dagger glowing with necrotic energy.

 

“I was blessed with his most blessed vessel,” Syph smirked as necromantic energy flowed from the tooth into the vulpine. Varick tried to punch the fox but found his body slowed. “Your transformation will finally be complete, and as his new chosen, I will use you to conquer planets for the eternal glory of The Necromancer.” Syph punctuated the last declaration by plunging a dagger into Varick’s chest and opening a vast wound.

 

Suddenly Varick was outside his body. He felt weightless and surprisingly accessible. Time had stopped as the dagger tore open a deep gash in the Clydesdale’s chest. Varick was free to move around the room, utterly detached from his body. Nothing reacted to his touch or voice as he cried out, confused.

 

“Probably not a surprise, but you’re dead,” a voice from behind Varick told him. Startled, the horse turned to see a winged lynx in shining armor standing there. “My name is Julia Stormchild, and I am the Valkyrie that has come to collect you, and yes, you know that name. No, I won’t answer any questions.” The grey lynx’s deep green eyes showed her determination to fulfill this duty.

 

“No! This moment isn’t over,” Varick pleaded out of desperation. He didn’t want to die like this. Not here, not in this terrible place. Not while there was so much for him to do with his life.

 

“That’s true, but I don’t think you’re willing to do what it takes to save yourself,” Julia told Varick as she leaned against the wall. “I’ve been watching you for a while, and from what I’ve seen, you’re too good of a person.” Rather than take that last line as a compliment, it stung the horse like a personal insult.

 

“I can’t let everyone die because of me,” Varick shouted at the Valkyrie with tears in his eyes. “I need to make sure his evil doesn’t return.” Julia walked over to the horse and grabbed him by the ear. She whispered precisely what would happen if he pursued this course of action. “If that is the burden I must bear to make sure my family and friends don’t have to live through what I did.”

 

“You know, you kind of remind me of William,” Julia smirked as she started to turn and walk into a bright light. “When you see him, tell the old bastard that the Stormchild still loves and misses the Wintersong.” As the lynx disappears, Varick returns to his body as time starts again. The pain was more extraordinary than anything he had felt before.

 

“Bestow your chosen with your unholy might,” Syph cried out at his dagger reared back to strike again. Despite the immobilizing pain, Varick reached out and grabbed the fox’s stolen golden tooth. He was using every bit of energy left to wrench the cursed artifact-free.

 

“You were never chosen! You are just a scavenger that got lucky,” Varick shouted as his wound began to glow with eerie green energy. “I was his chosen! I was the one he wanted, not you!” The horse threw a punch that knocked Syph flying. Varick cracked the glowing crystal using the tooth before launching himself after the fox. Abandoning good form or restraint, the blonde Clydesdale pummeled Syph bloody.

 

“You going to cross that line and let him have you,” the black and white vulpine managed to ask through a broken skull and collapsed lung. “Do it! Kill me and unleash your true strength.” Varick stopped his attack, suddenly shaken from his rage. He looked at his hands, covered in blood. Hands that would create, not destroy. 

 

“No, I’m not a killer,” Varick says as he looks over to see Gard helping Tabious to stand. The tiefling must have slipped in during the fight. “They might be, though.” Tabious and Gard struggle to walk over to the beaten Syph.

 

“Leave Varick,” the wounded wolf hawk orders the brown horse. “He hasn’t earned his death yet, and you don’t need to see this.” Without another word, Varick grabbed Layla and left the room. It took some time to navigate the tunnels, but eventually, the two found sunlight again. Once above ground Varick lay on the toxic dirt and passed out.

 

The Clydesdale found himself wandering through a dark tunnel in the darkness of unconsciousness. His heartbeat sounded around him as the passage opened into the darkness with that accursed glowing green crystal. Varick approached the vessel of gathered necromantic energy to find the gold tooth floating inside. He reached for the artifact only to be blocked by the crystalline wall. Mist inside the crystal around the tooth slowly formed into a coyote with a magitech leg, multiple ear piercings, long black thumbnails, and the golden canine tooth. This cursed being was the lich that had tortured Varick all those years ago. The foul being only know as The Necromancer.

 

“Good to see you again, kid,” the coyote laughed as he watched Varick through the crystal. “You will forever be bound to me now. Use my power as you wish, and I’ll take control when the time is right.”

 

Varick wakes screaming to find himself in a bed with multiple tubes and wires running to him. A lump next to the horse tailor’s side turned out to be Layla sleeping with him, undisturbed by the screaming. The grey metal room looked familiar somehow. Varick blinked, and suddenly, the door was open, and a familiar red-skinned tiefling was at his side. It wasn’t Gard but rather Izebel.

 

“How many times am I going to have to save you from that planet,” she asked with a slight laugh as the tiefling sat beside Varick. “Before you ask, Tabious, Gard, and a portion of the crew were able to be evacuated before the planet exploded.”

 

“Requinest exploded,” Varick sat up suddenly in shock, sending pain lancing across his chest. The wound from the dagger had already closed and started to scar. 

 

“The gold tooth you held melted away to nothing when we brought you aboard. Shortly after that, the necromantic battery started to overload,” Izebel explained while checking the monitors hooked to the Clydesdale. “We got far enough out, then Requinest exploded. I’m sorry, but now you get a free ride back to Drakethorpe on the universe’s finest medical ship.”

 

Varick was welcomed home as a hero despite not feeling like one. His apartment was rented out to someone else, and the horse’s parents didn’t have room to put him up anymore. With nowhere else to go, Varick took a room at the Guild in Drakethorpe for himself and Layla.