Muerta

There are as many stories about Muerta as there are graves in the Carrion Fields of Gorm. Some tell their children ghost stories of a young peasant girl returned from the dead to punish the bandits who killed her family. Others, drunk in dark taverns, slur conspiracy theories about kidnappings and phantom guilds of killers.

One constant bleeds through every tale: of a woman so consumed by hate for those who killed her that she refused to die. And of Death, so impressed by whatever hate-filled engine that drove this woman that he gave her Mercy and Grace — twin ethereal pistols — and made her his second in command. Now she hunts down wayward souls whose last grains have tumbled from their hourglass, and drags them kicking and screaming to their eternal reward.

Out past the endless waves of sand,
Out past the wastes and wyrms,
Out past the trail of bleached white bones,
There was a town called Skirm.

This town was plagued by bandits who
Would rob them once a year.
They'd load up half the grain and gold
And then they'd disappear.

But Zell, the Zongom leader, had
A plan for something bold.
"What if we didn't wait for them
To grow back all we stole?"

"We won't take half, but ALL their grain,
So none gets planted back!
We'll empty out their sacks of food,
and then we'll steal the sacks!"

The bandits struck at midnight...
And at noon And then at dawn.
The town soon found that their last grain
Of hope was even gone.

The starving townsfolk met to pick
A hero from their ranks––
A selfless soul to risk their life
For no reward but thanks.

They didn't pick for guts or grit.
They didn't pick for skill.
They picked the person starving least.
That's right: They picked Fat Phil.

And once they'd cleared the corpse away
(A cardiac arrest)
Behind the spot where Phil had been
There stood a girl: Celeste.

Around her waist, a holster held
a single rusty gun.
"We should have just picked her!" they said.
"This thing's as good as won!"

"Slow down," she said. "I've got this gun.
It's bullets I ain't got."
The townsfolk groaned, but soon cooked up
A quick and desperate plot.

They placed their last gunpowder grains
Inside their only shell
So she might duel the bandit king
And send Zell straight to hell.

かつては無限の砂紋があり、
かつては古竜の荒野があり、
かつては長蛇の骨列があり、
Skirm という町があり。

わずらわしい盗賊どもは
年に一度は襲撃しに来る。
金銀穀物の半数を強奪し
その後は忽然と姿を消す。

だが、Zongom の頭領 Zell には
さらなる計画があった。
「試しに一旦やめてみねえか？
　いちいち指くわえて待つってのをよ」

「チキらずにありったけブン盗ってよ、
　育て直すヒマさえ与えねえのさ！
　ヤツらの食糧袋をカラッポにして、
　しまいにゃ袋まで奪っちまう寸法よ！」

真夜中の惨劇……
正午を回った暁に。
文字通りの根絶やしに
希望の芽は摘ままれた。

飢饉のもと民衆は集い
英雄の選別が始まった。
孤立無援の滅私奉公に
感謝で身を粉にする者。

勇気も闘志も考慮せず。
技量の巧拙も考慮せず。
ただ最も飢えていなかった。
必然的。Fat Phil が選ばれた。

死体が召されたのち
（心肺停止）
Phil があった場所の後ろに
娘が一人佇んでいた。名を Celeste という。

腰のホルスターには、
錆びついた銃が一丁。
「この御方にすべきだった！」民衆は口を揃える。
「もはや勝ったも同然だ！」

「うっさいね、」開口一番。「確かに銃はある、
　けど鉛玉の方がね。」
民衆は絶望しかけたが、
すぐに絶望を調理した。

民衆が持つ最期の火薬が
最期の薬莢に込められた
近く盗賊王との決闘の末
Zell を地獄(Hell)へ送り帰すだろう。