Remnants Of Wildfire
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Latest revision as of 03:48, 22 July 2025
Title: Remnants of Wildfire
Author: Lady Brightstar
The following is a fictionalized account of a Knight of Serpent's Hold and her experiences with the effects of Wildfire.
Corinne of Serpent's Hold lived in Britain only briefly, aiding her countrymen as they suffered from the dreadful Wildfire.
Corinne's story is presented here in full.
Part One
Corinne stared out from the prow of The King's Mercy, as the huge Britannian ship cut through the rolling waves. There was no need to look back; much of the island was already aflame with the unnatural green and gold of Wildfire. Sood there wouldn't be much left above the rocky ground of the island, if the burning continued. Her tabard whipped about in the wind as the ship sailed on toward the promised safety of the capitol.
In spite of herself, she did turn back; but only to look at the decks cluttered with refugees and the remaining healers of Serpent's Hold. Their absent lord may have sent this help from the City of Britain, or perhaps it was the King himself, but at last something was being done to help the sick and weary folk of the Hold. They huddled together against the wind, the healthy comforting the sick. Those who were ill seemed almost to burn internally. Their eyes bright with fever looked anxiously about, and they scratched at marks on their skin that looked almost green. Resolutely, Corinne focused on each face - ignoring the smoke spiraling up in the distance behind the ship.
Too few of the faces on board belonged to her fellow Knights. Some stayed behind in hopes of winning the strange war being fought with magic as well as with steel; and too many more were already lost entirely. Only Mark and Magnus stood among the refugees; Magnus self-consciously holding the hand of his young bride Sheila. Corinne had reluctantly agreed to make this journey, being a merchant's daughter and familiar with the sea. She had also visited Britain several times, accompanying her parents. The southern waters were often infested with pirates and smugglers - so a small force was urged to take the journey, to protect the refugees. The ship's crew made no promise of safetly.
Those of the Hold were glad to run their own affairs, allowing no King's Governor to rule; but they enjoyed trade with the wider world. Of late, they were grateful for the warriors of that wider world coming to fight the creatures of Wildfire. Perhaps they sought treasure or glory, but, whatever the reason, their presence did hold back the creatures for some time. The Governors of Britannia had even placed an aid station, to ease the strain that so many more injured fighters would place on the island's small corps of healers. Supplies had been coming in steadily, though with this latest battle Corinne thought they'd seen the end of this aid. Even in the Hold, they had heard about healers coming together in Britain to help those fighting Wildfire. Corinne hoped these healers would be able to help her countrymen aboard this ship.
Many days later, The King's Mercy delivered her desperate passengers and the few things they carried away from Serpent's Hold. Those who could walk, disembarked into the busy streets of the capitol. Those who could not, were carried by litter into the city. Corinne helped carry litter after litter. Soon, the permanent healers' quarters were overrun with the sick, and temporary healing stations were set up throughout the city. Healers arrived from Minoc, Skara Brae, Vesper, Yew, Jhelom, and Trinsic. Mages from New Magincia and Moonglow tried magical means to heal the sick. At best, their combined efforts could protect some folk from becoming ill - but for many, it was too late to stop the strange disease.
Corinne lost track of how many errands she'd run for the healing stations since she arrived - trips to the alchemist (the black-bearded mage from New Magincia was especially particular about herbs and potions), the weaver's for bandages, and even out to the nearby farms to collect other special items needed. She'd lost track of her fellow Knights until she quite literally ran into one between the healers and the bakery on the northwest side of town. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, picking up her packages destined for the healers nearby. Then she stopped and looked up at the man she'd just stumbled into on the street.
"Mark!" Corinne froze. The man she knew never looked like this. His bright eyes glittered in his drawn face. He paced restlessly, the tabard hanging loose from his hunched shoulders.
"I don't know what's going on with me," he said slowly. "Do I know you?" He began coughing. "Can you help me?" He reached out and grasped her arm with surprising strength. "Help me!"
"I'll help you, she said, "come with me to the healers - they're close by." Corinne glanced over at the humble building just steps away.
He looked at her without recognition, still gripping her arm. "So you won't help me, then... I understand. I understand everything." He drew his sword.
Part Two
Corinne broke away and stepped back from Mark. He dropped the weapon and covered his face with his hands. "I don't know what's going on with me," he said again.
"Mark..." Corinne caught the sword hilt with her heel and drew it away from her comrade. She picked it up, noticing the spots of rust that had begun to form on the once-bright blade. "Come with me," she said in a comforting tone. "let's go in to see the healers."
Once Mark had been placed in the care of the healers (and his sword given into their care as well), Corinne went out to try and retrieve her packages. The sunlit streets were an odd contrast to her mood. Only one parcel was missing, and of course it was the herbs for the New Magincian mage, but she returned to the herbalist to refill the order.
Deliveries finally completed, Corinne crossed Mage's Bridge to the eastern side of the city, intending to visit the beautiful fountain in the park - such places did not exist in Serpent's Hold. It was evening; she judged the time to be close to seven o'clock, when she heard the rumble of voices coming from a building close by. The Cavalry Guild's doors were open to the mild evening, and she could see a small crowd within. She edged closer to listen.
The Governor of Britain stood at the head of the table inside, her lantern creating shadows among the crowd. Warriors from diverse companies, and even some guild mercenaries, jostled one another for space in the small meeting area. Corinne slipped into the back of the crowd, her back uncomfortably close to a rack of practice weapons. She hadn't stood among so many trained warriors since leaving Serpent's Hold, before the Wildfire manifested underground. She began to relax among them. Standing where she was, she could just see the Governor, framed by a window at the back of the hall.
"Citizens and friends," the Governor called out, "Thank you for coming tonight with your concerns." The room quieted, and a formidable-looking macer bowed his shaved head as he gave a salute.
"Governor," he said, "I don't like these crowds in the streets. There are too many folk what don't belong!" General muttering arouse in the room. The man held up one armored hand. "What are ye' doing about them?"
The Governor smiled. "We are treating them, sir, with the best medicine and magic we can. Some folk are recovering well, and a few have already sailed back to their homes."
"Not enough!" cried someone in the crowd. The murmurs rose until the room was filled with general chatter as everyone gave an opinion on the matter of the refugees. The Governor raised up her lamp until the noise died down again.
"Everyone," she said, lowering the lamp to the table, "calm is needed. It is a strange malady, and we have a duty to help those who come to us for aid. I, too, am concerned about the crowding of our streets, and the influx of people needing help. I'm not certain, but I think this disease is magical in nature. I think it has something to do with Serpent's Hold." Suddenly, Corinne noticed something moving beyond the window behind the Governor, and heard the unmistakable sound of steel on steel. "Beware!" she shouted. All looked to the windows, as a battle unfolded before their eyes.
"To Arms! To Arms" called the Governor, "Britain is under attack!"
The assembled crowd rushed out of the building, to a horrible sight. Healers from the nearby temporary station lay dead upon the ground, and their patients fought each other and anyone approaching with a zeal that made no sense, given their condition. Their eyes glowed with a brightness beyond fever, and they moved with unnatural speed. The greenish gold of the Wildfire infection covered much of their exposed skin and they shouted incoherently as they fought.
"Team up!" shouted an archer, a woman with dark hair and a grim expression. "Don't engage alone!" Immediately, a swordsman ran to her side, and together they approached the melee - the archer clearing a path for her companion. The warriors began to gather in pairs and small groups. Corinne found herself beside the macer who'd spoken in the Guild hall. They nodded at one another, and started toward the fight.
Corinne and the macer (she never did learn his name, though his colors suggested he came from Jhelom) splashed water on their grimy faces at the fountain behind the Cavalry Guild. The ground was littered with the dead. The Governor was healing the injured with some type of magic; Corinne didn't trust it but it seemed to be effective. The group began to breathe again when faint cries for help could be heard in the distance.
"Our healers!" cried the Governor, "what if this is happening at all our healing centers?" Realizing the truth of this awful possibility, the assembled warriors split up to check the remaining healing stations; south and west into the busiest parts of Britain.
Corinne and her unnamed companion stayed together. They joined the archer and swordsman and made their way across the bridge to the western part of the city. Unfortunately, Wildfire had indeed affected more of the sick in this way - they fought like demons against anyone nearby. At the third station she came to, Corinne saw Magnus among the injured; he bled from several wounds but seemed generally whole. She tried to pull him to his feet, but he would not stand.
"Corinne," he said brokenly, "my wife... I cannot..."
"Speak, man!" Corinne still held his hands in hers. "What are you talking about? Where is Sheila?" Her eyes widened as she realized what he must mean. "Is she...?"
Magnus nodded, closing his eyes against the memory. "She's near the bank; I cannot harm my bride, Corinne. She gave me these wounds... I... I came here to fight instead."
Corinne's companions looked at one another, and in the direction of the bank a few streets away. Magnus pulled his hands free. "Corinne, you must go. I can't... not my bride..." He looked up. "Do you recall the golden demons of Fire? The speed they had?"
Corinne nodded. "Paragons, they called them."
"My Sheila - her eyes... they have turned gold. I cannot accompany you, but I understand what must be done." He bowed his head.
Corinne left Magnus, hurrying to catch up with her group. The archer laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder as they approached the area near the bank. The group peered around the corner of the tailor shop, to see the crumpled form of Magnus' bride. The fancy dress she'd been so proud of was tattered and stained. Her golden eyes stared sightlessly up toward the darkening sky.
There was no time to grieve. Shouts came from the north.
The man - creature? - standing in the street was barely recognizable as Mark, surrounded by the fallen and screaming with rage. Fending off blows from all sides, he seemed intent on the destruction of all. Cloak and tabard whirled about as he lunged at anyone appraching with the broken, bloody sword in his hand.
The company of four noticed two mages trying to heal those in the melee while protecting themselves with fields of energy, and they ran to join them. The archer stayed with the mages, keeping the lesser beings of Wildfire at bay while Corinne and the rest faced the foe. Corinne felt strangely ...invincible... and she turned to see one mage had taken out a lute and was playing music that had the taint of magic. There was no time to be concerned, however, as she found herself being shoved back by the macer. "You'll get us all killed!" he growled. She drew her sword and formed up with the two men.
Arrows glanced off the being's platemail. His eyes glowed golden in the fading light. There was nothing left of Mark as he struck and parried; no grace, no humanity. He was terrifying.
Corinne and her companions crept forward, looking for any advantage. The air around them sparkled with magic and the cobblestones were slick with blood and gore. With unspoken agreement, they leapt into the fight. The mace landed with a sickening sound, swords slashed at the armor's joints and the unprotected areas revealed by the disintegrating armor.
Although it seemed to take forever, the actual fight was relatively short. The combination of steel, magic, and expertise was eventually too much for the foe. The being fell with a roar, still swinging. When it was over, Corinne fell to her knees beside what had once been Mark, Knight of Serpent's Hold.
Corinne stood aboard The King's Mercy once again, this time headed for home. She still accompanied the refugees from Serpent's Hold, though far fewer than had sailed to Britain for aid. Still, more than two-thirds had survived the strange effects of the Wildfire Plague, as it was being called now. These people were now healthy and well-fed, clothed against the chill winds of the voyage, and hopeful of seeing their homes again. It was said in Britain that the creatures of Wildfire had finally been overcome, save for some few left in the Fire Dungeon. Even now the warriors of Britannia were clearing out the dungeon caves and preparing to return to their own lands.
She looked into each face, finally finding Magnus among those seated against the starboard rail. He remained in his armor and uniform, staring out at the waves, but Corinne knew that he planned to resign when they reached the island. Word had already been sent home about the way Wildfire had ravaged some of the refugees. Those on the island knew that some would never return. The Governor of Britain, with the King's blessing, had insisted on pyres for the dead in hopes of containing the plague. It appeared to have worked; no evidence remained of the strange disease. Healers and mages had begun to return home from the capitol, and soon the survivors would be reunited with their families.
What would the future hold; adventure, despair, joy, the simple tedium of everyday life? Corinne turned back toward the prow, searching the horizon for the familiar shape of home.
Corinne's story makes for quite an adventure, and I hope you have enjoyed reading it.
In speaking with her, we agreed that this book should be dedicated to those who fought to free Serpent's Hold and the Fire Dungeon from these awful creatures and their plague, and to those who provided supplies and other assistance to those fighting.
May we ever come together when the need arises.