9/11/2022
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   He awoke in the darkness, and fumbled with his body. Nothing seemed right,
though he didn't know why. His eyes quivered and probed the restless darkness,
shifting and ever receding from his strained pupils. He knew nothing of where
he was, or why the darkness felt so alive. Reaching out, he felt the stoney and
root cracked land below him - it was barren. Feeling himself, he felt scales
and feathers draped around him. As he blinked and listened, words fell from his
cracked and broken mouth not of his own accord.

   "I'm awake." he whispered, first quiet as a breeze but then again with more
force. "I'm awake!" he yelled, then instantly regretted it. Can you regret a
choice you didn't make? The darkness fell away, as if it were dust in the wind,
spiralling to the floor and out of his vision. The world was clearer, then, for
the moon shone brightly and illuminated a forest clearing. Silver light burned
his eyes, when once it shone through them - he could not remember why. In from
the darkness beyond the tree cover came a woman clad in spite of herself, a
villainess and loathsome siren with an ivy crown upon her head. She bore down
on him, staring unblinkingly, and he felt compelled to kneel.

   "You are awake. Finally." His eyes fell to the floor, and he begged his body
to rise against her. Why, he could not say - but the body refused, and gave no
taste of the feelings he swore he should have. His temperement was calm.

   "I am yours. Command me." He tallied his thoughts and memories and could
find no reason to love nor hate her. Who was she? Where was he? "Oh, don't be
so hasty. I have no need of you yet. Are you fully regenerated?" His body was
sore, and he realized now that he held within him a hunger he'd never knew
before - lusting for... Something. "I am whole." His mind was racing. With
terror he began to realize how little he controlled. His body refused his will,
his eyes went where they may, and his mouth had a mind of it's own. "Good. I
will return for you in the morning. See to it that your soul does not take any
more of your faculties - it took almost a month for you to resurrect, I don't
want to waste any more time on you."

   ... Soul?

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   He stood there for hours. Perfectly still, resolute and immaculate. Waiting
with eyes on the sky, watching for the color to change. As his vigil continued,
he did battle within.

   First it was a game of information. Where was he? What... Was he? Both of
those questions were answered by the witch on the outside. But where was he
inside? He felt around himself, searching for anything of substance - something
to hold onto and moor himself. Bit by bit, he found his footing, and picked up
the pieces of his composure. Glancing about, he found vast corridors and
columns arrayed like a spider's web, with gates at every junction. He gathered
his strength, and broke down the door.

   Inside, he found the machinery. Endlessly complex, it solved minute problems
and processed the pieces of ether that he now saw whizzing past. Cast from one
node to another, it belied a larger structure that he could not discern. Where
once it was dark, his touch brought life back into the combine, and suddenly
his quest became clear. Once more he lept forth, through another gate and to
another piece of his broken and shattered mind. It grew within him, and his
strength returned.

   Strength... Implies existence, to all those who would observe. And shortly,
he _was_ observed. By who he could not say, but he felt it's gaze upon him. And
presently, he was consumed.

   Thus began a game of cat and mouse - He, appearing where he might, and
breaking down the walls of his cage. It, where he was, devouring what once were
his thoughts. Back and forth they lept, leaving only pain in their wake, as the
war continued unabated. Until at last there was a changing of the tide, and he
inexorably conquered his internals.

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   As the first light of dawn touched the tops of the trees his resolve
faltered, and he fell first to his knees, then to the ground. Once more his
vision swam, but he regained control and blinked of his own will.

   In she strode, from the edges of the trees. Seeing him on the floor, a
flicker of dismay crossed her face, but then she began to think. Pacing back
and forth, she was lost in her thoughts. "Help... Me..." The words came
unbidden, one last rattle before his dissolution. She knelt before him, and
as his head rested on the ground she cradled it in her hands. "Don't push too
far. You'll destroy yourself. Take only what you need, and wait until you're
recovered. If I cannot have you, I will not have you destroyed by your own
hand." His eyes lolled in their sockets, but with effort he looked upon her.
No trace of deception was in her eyes, she had only worry painted on her face.
"I didn't want to kill you. But you were in my way. And now, look at you - have
you seen yourself? Are you so brave that you'd rush headlong into oblivion once
again? You are a symbiosis, do not spit the eye to spite the other."

   With effort, he slowed his advance. The other within him twisted and coiled
like a snake, gathering itself taut like a spring. It lay in wait, as he found
control over his words. "Who are you?" He struggled to say it, every word was
a challenge to overcome. "Where... Am I?"

   "I am Ursene. I am the witch of these woods. I am a sorcerer of nature and
death magic, and I am the one who left you slain. But I am also your deliverer,
for I bought you another life for a paltry sum. How little the reaper takes to
abate for a time." His mouth was cracked and dry. It would have bled, if his
heart still beat. "Why..." She closed her eyes, and continued. "There was great
power within you. There may yet be a trace of it, though your god has abandoned
you. I'd offer my own, but it seems I am forsaken as well these days. I wanted
to use you in my quest, and I still maintain hope that you'll help me." She
brushed the hair from his face, and as she did the feeling came back to his
fingers. "Where is... Where is my horse?" A horse! _His_ horse! The memories of
riding came back in a flood, scattered and disorganized. He did not register
what she said in reply, as he struggled to parse this deluge of information.

   She waited patiently for the next question. "How did I... Die?" She
grimaced, and reached down for his hand. She placed it on his chest, and he
felt blood caked to his armor. _Armor..._ He wore a scale mail chestpiece with
feathers sown into the shoulderguards. Who had sown those feathers? A face swam
to his mind, but no name was forthcoming. "I pierced your heart with a thorn
spear. The venom coats the inside of your veins, even now. We had a great duel,
and I wore you down with successive minor cuts and wounds. Your kind are immune
to poisons and disease, but not to the venom of the bramble king." My... Kind?
More visions flitted past, of stone halls and brilliant colored windows. He
felt a surging within him that faded as quickly as it came, as if it was the
memory of providence that suffused him.

   "Who am... I? I cannot remember... My name..." She tilted her head as a
shrug, and spoke with ambivilance. "You never told me your name, so unless you
remember it dies with you." He felt strength mustered in his limbs, and tried
to sit up. She helped him, and sat beside him. "I can give you a name if you'd
like." Hearing no protest, she continued. "I name thee Carrion, culler of the
fallen and wielder of decay." He didn't understand. But now he had a name.

   One final question stirred within him. "What is your... Quest?"

   She smiled as she replied "It's simple, really. I want to leave faeriland"

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   The gateway loomed as a gravestone might. Tall and imposing at a distance,
mundane yet powerful with proximity. He saw the grooves and rivulets that ran
up, down, and splayed all over the surface of the stone surface, passing over
and through one another as if acid had splashed onto it like gobs of snot.
Rotten tomatoes might be a better image, at least that gets the color right.

   They had walked for a day and a half, never stopping to rest or eat. His
body was alive with unlife, and required no sustenance - her strength came from
reserves unknown to him. The two had arrived at a dense section of the forest
that had grown wild and unkempt for a long time. He could see no way through,
but she pointed out where to step and where to hold, and together they climbed
into the forest's heart.

   The vines were alive here, and they enscorcelled the pillars of stone that
arched together to form a portal. To what, he couldn't say, for an unnatural
darkness pervaded the space within. No trace of moss touched these stones, but
the vines held it as if they had chained it to the earth. They moved and crept,
slowly but inexorably, twisting and conniving their pathways around it. And
smaller still was the gouges and grooves carved in the stone, pathways that
thirsted for the blood of the innocent.

   She had told him much in their journey. How she believed this portal could
take them to other worlds, and how this land was once the kingdom of the fae.
Now it was but a ruin, and the fae were scarcely seen. Driven down into the
depths of the earth, they cavorted with gnomes and redcaps rather than the
beings of the surface.

   She had named him her champion, and Carrion could do little but obey. There
was a subtle, almost imperceptable pull toward her - as if she was slightly
more gravitic than the surrounding background. He felt as if the world bent
around her, and the very air struggled to bear her presence. This pull affected
him even still, and he was condemned to support her.

   "This is your trial. If you are truly my pawn, you will undertake this task
without hesitation. If you disobey, the price is what remains of your life.
I can draw it from you as poison from a wound, and all that will be left is a
husk of you. Do you understand?"

   He nodded. She led him to a great wooden cage, and within there were several
emaciated prisoners. They were blindfolded and bound, by who he could not say -
but their imperiled existence tugged at a part of Carrion that was rapidly
fading. She handed him a thin blade in sheath, far too long for the one handed
grip that he grasped in one hand. Tentatively pulling it from it's prison, the
blade grinned with a pale dark green light that shivered in the receding light.
It seemed to be made of a fluid, for as he reached the extent of his reach the
tip bent and flickered to allow the killing implement to escape it's
confinement - snapping to attention once fully revealed.

   "Bring me their blood. I have work to do." She turned from him, and left him
to his task. He knew the stakes. He knew his place. He had no choice.

   Veridian became vermillion, and the blade became his soul.