You wake up to the smell of scorched flesh and smoke... Hacking a storm as you steady yourself upright. Around you, you find the corpses of your unit strung along the Ever Lakes' many ponds. The forests once beautiful are tarnished, seared dark and deep into the earth by the horde's fire. Your comrades' armor the same, blackened as everything the horde left.
Dragons. You and yours are here because of dragons.
You remember now. Your unit was sent to the Ever Lakes to investigate a dragon sighting, but now you're here looking at the aftermath. Every time you close your eyes, you can vividly picture your comrades reaching for their weapons, but the fire breath immobilize them first... No voice reaches you, only a the whistle of a gale.
With a shaky breath, you pick yourself up onto you feet and start listing your priorities. You need to quickly scour for any survivors. You must return to Ishgard. You need to inform the dead's families of the grave news. You need to write a report. Even if your heart aches, you must march forward.
You, Aymeric de Borel, may be the sole survivor.
And for a moment you wonder why you're spared... Of all of the people in your unit, you of rumored and dirty heritage would survive. It's laughable, but you can't find it in you... You want to fall back onto your knees. You don't. You must press forward.
Quietly, you search through the corpses of your fellow countrymen. Some are unidentifiable, some lucky to to have their features unscathed, some half as lucky, but then you stumble upon someone breathing.
... You recognize him and you remember before you collapsed he was still fighting. Carefully, you move him to a rocky outcrop and call out to him in a commanding voice.
"Wake up! You weren't among the fallen as I recall!"
For blessing or curse, you and this other man survive this encounter... You must not waste this life.
no subject
... Hopefully, naught unsightly, but 'twould be foolish to hope. Do steel yourself, Ser Kazunari.
[ Aymeric touches the bubble and a burst of color follows. It's difficult to tell the hue when the scene twists to illusion.
(from Through Fire and Blood)
You wake up to the smell of scorched flesh and smoke... Hacking a storm as you steady yourself upright. Around you, you find the corpses of your unit strung along the Ever Lakes' many ponds. The forests once beautiful are tarnished, seared dark and deep into the earth by the horde's fire. Your comrades' armor the same, blackened as everything the horde left.
Dragons. You and yours are here because of dragons.
You remember now. Your unit was sent to the Ever Lakes to investigate a dragon sighting, but now you're here looking at the aftermath. Every time you close your eyes, you can vividly picture your comrades reaching for their weapons, but the fire breath immobilize them first... No voice reaches you, only a the whistle of a gale.
With a shaky breath, you pick yourself up onto you feet and start listing your priorities. You need to quickly scour for any survivors. You must return to Ishgard. You need to inform the dead's families of the grave news. You need to write a report. Even if your heart aches, you must march forward.
You, Aymeric de Borel, may be the sole survivor.
And for a moment you wonder why you're spared... Of all of the people in your unit, you of rumored and dirty heritage would survive. It's laughable, but you can't find it in you... You want to fall back onto your knees. You don't. You must press forward.
Quietly, you search through the corpses of your fellow countrymen. Some are unidentifiable, some lucky to to have their features unscathed, some half as lucky, but then you stumble upon someone breathing.
... You recognize him and you remember before you collapsed he was still fighting. Carefully, you move him to a rocky outcrop and call out to him in a commanding voice.
"Wake up! You weren't among the fallen as I recall!"
As usual, war! Is bad! ]