The battlefield reeked with the stench of death. Strewn all over the grounds were the bodies of both Thaliost and Daskaran soldiers. Most were corpses, but there were some who were unfortunate enough to suffer mortal wounds that did not kill them quickly enough; their wails of agony and suffering echoed throughout the area.
Vernice Xabdo staggered across the landscape in a daze, dragging her longsword behind her, not having any more strength to lift it, yet holding on to it by sheer instinct. Her Thaliost armor was mangled with slashes and her shield had been splintered a long time ago. She was severely wounded, and it seemed that even a slight pinprick might suffice to tip her over to the land of the dead. She walked around aimlessly, trying in vain to make sense of the battle that had just transpired.
It was supposed to be a simple scouting and training exercise. Her battalion of fresh academy graduates were sent to a part of the front lines that held no strategic value whatsoever. There, they would practice squadron maneuvers and survival techniques away from enemy positions until they were ready to be sent to do battle at the more fortified regions of the lines. It was here that they encountered a Daskaran army unit that they did not expect. The meeting seemed to be happenstance, from what she could piece together from the reconnaissance report, the Daskarans also had the same idea, sending fresh recruits to a low-key place to train.
Yet something strange happened - what was supposed to be a brief skirmish between greenhorn recruits turned into a bloody brawl that lasted several days. Both sides did not want to back down and parley; the ferocity of the conflict became bigger every time both sides clashed. The situation escalated quickly, and as the casualties mounted, reinforcements were called and arrived to further add kindling to the fires of the war. In a short time a full-blown battle erupted, thousands of soldiers fought for their lives on this forsaken ground, all fighting what was in hindsight, a meaningless battle.
Vernice stopped on her tracks when she trudged upon a body of Thaliost soldier. Her boot nudged the corpse and turned it over. She recognized him - it was Theric, the drummer of her company. He was an aspiring musician, and probably the gentlest person she had ever met. Theric couldn't even hurt a fly, all he wanted was to play in a band and compose music for the common folk to enjoy. He was only here because he was mandatory conscripted to the conflict by the kingdom.
Then, the images from the battle flashed in her memory, of the scene of peaceful Theric, consumed with blood lust and hacking at the enemy soldiers with his sword in feral desperation. Vernice looked around, Theric's drum was nowhere to be found near his corpse, it had broken off from its strap during the battle. In his hand was a broken sword, hilt still tightly gripped, instead of a drum stick that was supposed to be his life's calling. Tears fell from Vernice's eyes as she tried to comprehend the absurdity of this all. She failed miserably, and her mind finally broke.
Vernice's wail of anguish reverberated throughout the battlefield. The keening sound was even able to stop some of the fleeing shell-shocked survivors from their tracks. Vernice fell on her knees and railed at the heavens, against the gods for forsaking everyone. She bawled out against the system, for the injustice of sending common folk like her and Theric to their meaningless deaths.
A surviving Daskaran soldier was close to Vernice and heard her cries. He picked up a sword and moved behind her. Vernice saw him and instinctively knew his deadly intentions but did not even care to defend herself. There was no fight left in her, and she was going to die from her wounds anyway. She closed her eyes and thought this would offer her a quick way out of all the pain. As the enemy raised the sword and prepared to stab the gibbering and deranged Vernice, a flash of the brightest light flared from the sky and engulfed Vernice. The Daskaran soldier was seared by the shining and promptly blinded. He howled in utter confusion and dropped the sword and fled the field in absolute panic.
Vernice waited for the fatal blow that never came. After a while, she opened her eyes and was amazed at the glow emanating from her hands. Her intuition told her something divine happened, and she was supposed to use this to help in the succor of others. She got up and moved around until she found a wounded survivor. She lay her hands on him and the glow transferred to his wounds and sealed it, allowing him to live another day. Understanding dawned on Vernice, and over the next few days, she personally scoured the battlefield for the wounded and aided about a dozen or so of them, not totally healed, but just enough for them to reach camp and medicine.
News of an angel who miraculously healed the wounded broke throughout the camp, and investigations were launched by both the army supervisors and the clergy. The interviews and findings were favorable to Vernice and she was awarded a promotion to an officer rank within the corps. The priests also corroborated the divine nature of the miracle and after some communing, determined that her power was a gift from Dol Arrah. A ceremony was held in the high temple, and she was conferred as a paladin of the church of Dol Arrah.
Currently on a sabbatical from the army, she has been awakened to the rotting and stagnant nature of the system within the Thaliost kingdom. She has come in contact with some of the progressive and forward thinkers in the kingdom, as well as an association with the Lady Lotheed that might give her a chance to contribute in uplifting the Thaliost kingdom from its downward spiral.
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