Survivors ain’t defined by what they’ve survived. We all survived the Calamity, but we’re all different beyond that. No, being a survivor is something more than that. Something that marks us for the rest of our lives. Something like people, people we’ve known, people we’ve left behind. And nobody knows that more than Zulf.
When the Kid came back from the Hanging Gardens with Zulf, at first Zulf kept himself well-composed. No doubt the time spent being an Ura ambassador taught him how to keep a cool demeanor. But a man’s eyes tells you what they’re hiding. Tells you what they’re feeling. And Zulf ain’t feeling anything but the sorrow of all those people he’s lost.
I tried my best to console him, we all tried. Tried to help him move on from the Calamity. Yet even as he opened up, told us about himself, there were always parts about him that he kept to himself.
Don’t blame him. Nobody came out of the Calamity the same person.
There was a time though, while Kid was off finding more cores, that he drank himself into a stupor. Spent time holed up in the distillery, filling himself up with some of the Bastion’s fine brandy. I came in to see him in a corner, clutching an empty bottle in his hands. Eyes staring into the distance, like he saw a ghost. Didn’t even turn to see me as I moved closer, only rocking back and forth, lost in thought.
“Tessa,” I remember hearing him scream. “Tessa, Tessa. Come back, Tessa.” His fiancee, I later found out when I asked about her.
He repeated her name over and over again as he clutched his head, tears slowly streaking down his cheeks. Man looked like awful. Complete wreck. I could only sit and watched as he cried and cried. Enough to make me stop and think, to watch this man who was still being affected by the Calamity.
It’s monstrous, that’s what it is.
After he passed out, I helped him into his tent, Zia looking over him as I set that empty bottle of brandy back in the distillery.
Zulf lost his parents to plague. His mentor to time. And his fiancee to the Calamity.
Nobody deserves to face something like that in their life. And nobody but Mother on high could ever understand that kind of suffering.
But there’s hope, isn’t there. Hope in a Kid to finish the Bastion. I might not be able to help Zulf personally in any of this, but I know that at least there’s still a chance to change everything. To fix what was made undone.
That’s the least I owe him. What the city owes him. What the Mancers owe him.
I don’t know what drives the Kid. What keeps pushing him forward, doing things that most people would consider impossible. He already served a term on the wall and was well on his way serving a second. No one in the history of Caelondia, no matter how brave or fool-hardy they might be, has ever considered a second term on the wall. But the Kid, the Kid just went right to it. It terrifies me a bit, thinking what a kid like that might be capable of.
Course, even before the Calamity, there were plenty of talk about the Kid. Talk about this white-haired youngster, patrolling the walls with nothing but a hammer. A bit of humor when the gossiping started, lotta folk trading tales at the Sole Regret. But as time wore on, as that kid continued his tour, what was once viewed as nothing more than some amusement turned to hushed whispers of reverence. Of fear.
A kid patrolling the walls, with nothing but a hammer, fighting back all that the Wilds had to toss at him. Lunkheads, Peckers, the occasional Pincushions growing too close for comfort. Kid took it all on, came out no worse for wear. Walking away from things that would make a full-grown man shudder to think about.
Well, when it’s put like that, Kid sounds less like a kid… and more like something worse.
At least the Masons treated him well enough, the way he swings his hammer would make the guild proud. Makes me proud. Makes me scared.
No one deserve this sort of life. A life fighting and putting yourself at risk. Yet the Kid keeps pushing himself. Pushing himself for Caelondia, for the Bastion, for me, for everyone who survived the Calamity.
But does he do it for himself?
“Reason doesn’t matter,” Kid told me once when I mustered the courage to ask him. “I’m just doing what’s expected of me.”
What’s expected of him?
The last safe haven of Caelondia, the last piece left of the city after the Calamity, and he does it because it’s what’s expected of him?
He’s either the bravest person I know, or the craziest, coming back to the Bastion, covered in cuts and bruises, taking a swig from his flask and just going on again. It ain’t normal. Nothing about it seems normal.
Then again, when has anything since the Calamity been normal?
They say Calamity took everything from almost everyone. And took almost everything from everyone else. But then again, not everything people lose was just because of the Calamity. Some of us lost more than we’re willing to admit, willing to say. Maybe because of the memories, maybe because of the shame. Guess there’s no point in saving it when it's the end of the world.
Did I ever tell you that I was one of the few survivors of Caelondia’s fateful expedition to breach the Tazal Terminals during the war? Caelondia thought that if we could breach the Terminals, occupy the home of the Ura, we could force the war to end that way. Save many more lives in the long run. What wistful thinking that was, when I was marching with my fellow Triggers down. Down underground. At first we met little resistance, pockets of defenders here and there. Ura never expected us to get that far, so quickly. Thought we’d fight on the frontlines, stick to our walls and keep the Ura out until they lost the will to fight. Days into our expedition, we thought we’d soon be in the famed Terminals themselves, an army holding an entire people hostage.
How wrong we were.
We got lost down there. Whether it was faulty maps, or maybe a bit of Ura sabotage, I don’t think I’ll ever know. All I remember that day, whenever I close my eyes and look back to it, was the sound of the world shaking around me. Thought the whole cave system was gonna collapse on us. But no, scouts from the back reported that something, or someone, caused the tunnel behind us to cave-in. It was the worst news possible. We were trapped underground, behind enemy lines, and no idea how to get out.
Well we panicked for a bit, some steady-minded folks trying to grab whatever tools they could to blast the rocks out of the way. Didn’t last long when we got hit by the biggest ambush we ever seen. Ura from every ledge and precipice that they could fit. Like they were coming out of the rock itself.
Lost track of time as we got into the thick of it, Triggers rounding up whatever supplies they had to build a makeshift barricade. Didn’t matter really, Ura finding all the gaps they could to fire all their bullets and arrows through those flimsy defenses. I watched the man to the left of me collapse to the floor, a hole in his chest. I watched the man to my right fall backwards, an arrow in his gut.
And what about me?
I was clutching my Army Carbine tighter than I had with any woman, staring down the barrel. I was shooting down Ura whenever I had a clean shot, ramming new cartridges as fast as my hands would let me. I kept on shooting and shooting, never bothering to count how many bodies were falling from the alcoves and rockfaces.
Apparently, when I got the medal from my ‘services and deeds to the city’ after the war was over, eye-witnesses said I shot over a hundred Ura that day.
Whatever the amount, I just kept at it. Part of me wondered if this was where I was going to die. Didn’t seem like a possibility for us to escape. I could heard some muttering from a few of my fellow Triggers, praying to the gods to save them, prayers to the Lorn Mother to see them through. Wonder if any of the gods did hear us.
The Ura were getting closer and closer, a few brave warriors rushing the defensive line with blades and pikes. No time to reload, I had my hammer with me to strike them back. The tool for building the wall and Caelondia, now my tool to keep me and my brothers safe.
A shame I took a bullet to the leg for all that effort.
Yet I kept on swinging, kept on fighting. It was then that I heard a large explosion ringing in my ears. I didn’t even think about looking back, even though there were shouts and yells for a full blown retreat. I was barely lifting my hammer when two of my fellow soldiers grabbed me by the arms and dragged me away from the mess, the Ura firing arrows and bullets at us as we made our retreat from the Terminals.
The City called it the Massacre of Zulten Hollow. The Terminals called it the Repulsion of the Cael Invaders. I just remembered it as the day I lost so many of my fellow Triggers.
Funny, being one of the last veterans left. All those people, my brothers in arms. War took most of them, Calamity claimed the rest. Same with the Mancers and same with almost everything else. I wonder if they’re at peace now, though. For some us, the war never ended, not even as we took what we claimed was rightfully ours from the Ura.
If only we realized just what was happening to us as we kept on expanding, kept on going beyond the city. We thought we could own this land, thought that we could master it. The Ura knew right that there was more to the land than something to be tamed, something to be mastered. They were here first, they knew this land and all the secrets that it held. All the treasures that it had. Secrets and treasures that they fought to the bitter end protecting.
People always do have a thing for having hindsight sharper than their foresight.
Guess when the Calamity hit, I didn’t have much for it to take. Life took plenty out of me already. Took my strength. My leg. My hope. My dreams. Maybe if the young man who I used to be ever had the chance to take a look at me, he might just frown. Frown and say to himself, “Damn… how did that man fall so far in life?”
Hard to be proud when you watch things fall apart around you. Harder to be humble thinking you can fix it.
I need to apologize for my lack of activity here. I guess I’ve lost the muse here for the moment. Which means I guess I shall call this a hiatus of sorts. Or who knows, maybe my inspiration will return. But for now, I guess I should at least officially state that the inactivtiy of this blog will now be more official instead of just me being negligent. I apologize profusely, and sorry for anyone who wished to RP with me again.
Guess we’ll just have to wait for the next time, right?
“Course, brandy’s just the thing you need to wind down the day. Hey, how about while you get it, I get the old gramophone running again? Maybe we can find something nice to listen to.”
Oh Rucks, just remembering the past fondly enough to listen to the same few songs over and over again. Always listening no matter how bad the situation gets.
Zia had heard the frantic squawking of the Peckers coupled with the sound of explosions, and had rushed out of her tent to find Rucks firing off at the birds. What had gotten into his head?! Sure, they could be pests sometimes, but she knew the best ways to keep them at bay. Hadn’t she told him that?
She hurries over, taking care to not step directly in the way of the cannon, instead placing her hand upon it to lower it.
“What’s going on? Why are you shooting the Peckers? Gods, Rucks … “
“Zia, get down! There’s Peckers all over here! Don’t want to accidentally blast you to bits with this thing here.”
And again Rucks was chasing down Peckers, the whirling sound of the Calamity Cannon’s charge echoing loudly before launching another destructive missile at those cantankerous birds.
Property damage? What was that? All that mattered was taking care of this Pecker infestation.
“Zia, are the doors to the buildings sealed? Don’t want any of these Peckers flying inside and making a mess in them. Especially the Distillery...”
“They talk to me, I talk to them. It’s one of the traits I got, I assume, from being an Ura. Though, I had to learn by myself on how to approach them and how to deal with the different species but, they leave me alone because I tell them I won’t harm them – at least unless I need food.” She seemed to giggle though at the mentioning of her instrument. “And the Peckers just like the noise from my harp - guitar, not controlling them with it. The whistles and stuff on the other hand, those are commands I give, at least to the Peckers.”
She watched, smiling softly as she forced herself to stand still and wait. “Well that depends on what knowledge is considered by you. I’ve learned how to deal with recoil, how to immobile moving targets as well as target key weak spots, as well as how to clean out, reload.“
Zia stopped for a moment, back-stepping carefully over the Galleon Mortar and rested her arms against her chest. “I could shoot glasses but, that’d break maybe the last bit of drink ware we have. Of course, I think we have a few other things that could be used as moving target practice, no? A plate or tie one of those bushes up and have the Anklegator pull it around while I shoot the target for you, since there’s no way you will be able to tug that thing around.”
“Well, wherever you got it from, perhaps you can just tell your Pecker friends to not bother me while I’m in the middle of some important work. Don’t need any Pecker feathers ruining a hard day’s worth of business, you know?”
It was a bit of humor, maybe, though Rucks was a bit semi-serious. The amount of Peckers that thought it would be fun to invade his personal space while he was looking over some old documents was a bit baffling. Maybe they were being told specifically to mess with him. But that’d be thinking too cynically now.
“Shootings target might be one thing, but there’s more to that when wielding a pair of dueling pistols. Its not just about being able to shoot someone, its how fast you can shoot. How fast you can pull those triggers when a nasty scumbag is barreling down at you. How quick you can reload between shots. Its about discipline, speed, accuracy... not some reckless display or just merely deciding to shoot. You aim to shoot first.”
“Oh, Peckers are quite smart so, please don’t worry about the lil’ guy. The little Anklegator on the other hand keeps bumping into things but that’s because her vision is really bad.” The Ura started, looking around the arsenal that she had been in several times without permission.
“On your left, Rucks. On the shelf.” She said, simply giggling at his other statement. “Oh, I know you won’t take it as truth – Zulf gave m’ a weird look when I said the same to him. I said I’d prove it to you, and I will.”
She might have been all alone when the Kid found her, but she was not a weak girl. Words were hard to trust though, coming from such a sweet little girl who shouldn’t have experience in the battle field. Yet, being trapped within a city, with everyone out to kill her, had made her have the split personality – one with the people she cared about
“You know, you scare a little bit with your familiarity with those birds. They just love poking everyone else, but you? They just seem to understand you better. Why is that? You got them under some sort of spell of yours with that twangy thing?”
He was quick to reach for the pistols, holding them carefully in his hands. A good weight, nice and balanced for him. A pair of rugged tools for the wilds, to keep whatever is in them in check. Of course, there’s more to life than the wilds, after all.
“Tell me, exactly how well knowledged are you with these pistols? Just need to ask. Don’t want to give you a bunch of bottles to break if you think you’re some real fine stuff with these guns here.”
“Damned Peckers, I’ll show you who’s boss around here!”
It started with a simple mess. A bunch of Peckers getting the bright idea of flocking around the Bastion. At first it was mostly harmless, with the birds deciding to just keep their distance. But then they started getting a bit more bold. Started getting closer, trying to grab pieces of paper from the Memorial, some fragments lingering around the Lost-and-Found.
Of course, that made Rucks angry. Started waving his cane at them, trying to get them to shoo away. But the Peckers were persistent, flying around the old Mancer like they owned the place.
That’s when Rucks reached into his tent, grabbing that weapon of his that he was working on.
The sound of explosives could be heard throughout the Bastion, rocking it around a bit as Rucks chased Peckers around with a fully functional Calamity Cannon.
“Well, I’m sure it won’t. He’s a pretty smart bird. Wouldn’t want you to go bald before it’s truly time now would we?” She followed after, a simple stride.
“You act like I’ve never held one in my hands before, Rucks. If you’re going to give me the whole lecture on recoil and how to make sure the guns are properly cared for, I know that already. Plus, with a moving target you figure out where they are going to be two seconds before you shoot. That way it’s a firm hit.”
She wouldn’t admit that she had even killed – no, that was for the boys to discover. They all had their secrets after all and she was allowed to keep hers locked tight until someone just asked. “And I never wanted to be called a slinger – just to prove to you Rucks. That’s my goal here. You boys keep pushing me back and making me sit pretty, time to show you what I can do with a weapon. Then maybe I should give you a demonstration on what my creatures can do for m’.”
“Well he might choke if he accidentally tries grabbing a bunch of hairs. Wouldn’t want him to start coughing up hairballs, am I right?”
The arsenal was well-lit as Rucks brought Zia inside. It had to be lit. Considering all the weapons there were, who knows what would happen if you accidentally knocked one over. Wouldn’t want to accidentally get hurt from a Galleon Mortar blowing up prematurely due to being knocked to the ground.
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen you wield a pistol before, Zia. How can I assume what you’re saying is true if the only evidence is your own words? Why, I could boast all I want how I’m the King of Caelondia, but if I don’t give you any proof beyond my words, you wouldn’t believe me. Now here, why don’t you wait while I remember where the Kid left those Dueling Pistols. We’ll just take things one step at a time.”
“No, I’m not.” She was smiling, ready for that old man to admit defeat. “And I’ve already been there and done that Rucks, a few weeks ago while you were all sleeping, m’ pecker and I decided to go out for some target practice. With all three of ya’ asleep so heavily, you didn’t even notice I was gone. I even cooked you my catch in the morning.”
She was more than just a girl; it seemed only the monsters understood that part though. Almost giddy when he finally caved, she simply whistled and the bird creature was back to her shoulder, with a small piece of white hair in its’ beak.
“He don’t bite much, besides, you could have just said ‘ off ‘ and he would’ve listened. Though – he says your hair is tasty, Rucks, so I’d be a bit careful.” Fingers rubbed the creatures head, careful as the Pecker shifted wings and squawked in reply.
“Well I guess I’ll have to remember that in the future. Make sure that Pecker doesn’t get stuck in my hair. Wouldn’t want it to choke, right?” Another chuckle, as he began to walk his way towards the arsenal.
So Zia wants to show off her skills to Rucks so that she can prove how much she can be trusted with a pair of dueling pistols? Well, best get to the start to it, right?
“Well, target practice or not, there’s more to a pair of dueling pistols than just shooting stationary targets. You got a work a lot harder than that if you wish to call yourself a Slinger, right? Shame there aren’t any other Slingers around to see if you got the stuff for a pair of pistols.”
That’s cute old man ! Her thoughts made her smirk as she shifted on foot and huffed. Oh, she was not going to give in to his excuses. Her father had said the same thing before he showed her how it worked and –
“You don’t think I know that? I disarmed and shot a robber that decided to come into my home when pa was away. I’m better with a moving target and things that I can’t hit my friends can.” Did he forget about that pecker already! It liked her the most anyway, always flying around her without a secondary thought, telling her what the boys were mumbling about. Being able to understand them was nice after all. Not like many would attack her anyway.
“It’s people I’m worried about Rucks, not some creature that has a hard to hit spot. We’re adventuring a bit far after all and I don’t want The Kid to have all the fun. I told you I can prove my skills, and I will if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”
Now Rucks should’ve known that was the kind of answer he’d get. That stubbornness that refused to back down. In a way, it was kind of hopeful, seeing her wanting to be able to do more than just sitting around, playing that twangy instrument of hers.
“You really aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you Zia? Why, even if I told you that I wasn’t going to let you have a pair of pistols, you’d find a way to get them, won’t you?” There was almost the sound of a chuckle coming from Rucks, as he slowly glanced away and shook his head a bit.
“Well, why don’t you tell your Pecker friend off then? Wouldn’t make a good impression if I was showing you the way around a pistol and you have it pecking at my hair, now?”
“And why can’t I have a gun again? Zulf won’t fight and honestly, you’re way too old Rucks to be dealing with a recoil.” The Ura huffed, puffing her cheeks as she messed with the cloth of her shirt. “Besides, The Kid’s done enough and mister Pecker said if you don’t start letting me fight too he will make sure you are bald by the end of the season.”
Was she bluffing? Only the ten gods would know as she smiled and shifted on her toes. “So come on, give me one try to show you what I can do. I don’t want to be baby sitting you three boys when we’re under attack from whatever trouble you get into and not allowed to have a weapon. You can even set up the test – pa made me learn how t’ use pistols before he was sent away and I’m sure that whatever you got I can beat.”
“I’m telling you because we worry enough with the Kid going out and getting back everything. If I was any younger, or my leg was any better, I’d be going out there too, being by his side. But I don’t like my mind worrying about two people exploring while I’m here at the Bastion.” It was an excuse, for sure, but Rucks had a feeling that Zia wouldn’t accept it. She certainly was good with that harp guitar of hers, but there was more to her than that.
She’s plucky, rebellious, not willing to take no as an answer for something she really wants. It’d be dangerous, yes, but Rucks had a feeling she wouldn’t budge at all. “Learning how to shoot a gun is different from actually having to protect yourself when you’re out there. There isn’t anyone out there that’s going to stand there to wait for you to shoot them, you know.”