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Description

My excuse for over 5 months of inactivity in Alva with this dumb blonde o<-----<
Needed a break to catch my breath for a while-

Okay, so a little context/explanatory literacy to go with that unpolished mess:

He was not supposed to be down there. Floran had specifically been ordered to keep his decury from minimal ground contact. But the bitter taste in his mouth lingered still from his introduction to the Mirian plans for this attack. Both his rejection of his decury being assigned a Cinden and his objections to the cynicism had been denied any hold. The only protest he had available was not one he was ready to commit to. The flight regiment had been his life for too long.

"Get out of here! Run!" The half-elf had previously given the rule of the decury to his second-in-command, Floran's close friend and strong magic-wielder: Marcus Carver. Floran did not want anyone else to risk anything by disobeyed higher orders and he landed his peryton on the streets of Koben, a grand capital on fire, on his own. With desperation and the fullest voice he could muster from his chest he urged the civilians to flee the city as fast as they could. He knew it was too late for many of them but he didn't know what else to do.

The peryton's distressed whine was all Floran managed to register before he hit the rubbled ground, sending crashing waves of loud ringing through his skull. He was able to unhinge his feet from the saddle as the large peryton struggled in panic to get back on its hooves and claws. Framed by the fire a hulking figure stood responsible before Floran. And he was not finished.

- - -

Floran felt his knees hit the ground, sending a shockwave through his upper body. Only by reflex did he save his fall with his hands placed on the burnt surface underneath him. A thousand needles ran rampant through his spine, the agonizing pain paralyzing him. His eyes strained to focus on his hands against the ground but the fadings of blur got stronger. Part of the pain localized to an iciness on his opened side and Floran managed to press his hand against the wound. Bringing it back into his view, the dark glove was soaked in fresh blood. Little streams trickled down between the folds of the fabric.

The screams and cries of citizens and soldier died out. The raging fires silenced. Floran could only hear his own heavy breathing. One incredibly slowing breath after another. Sure of there to be second strike he turned his head to look at the perpetrator. And sure enough, the bulky figure of a man was lifting his sword, readying. There was nothing to do. Floran couldn't think. He couldn't move his legs. He had no weapons left to defend himself with on this short distance.

Floran's eyes locked on the heavy blade as it followed an arch from behind the man whose eyes were burning with hunger for this kill. The light from the stories-high flames around them faded from Floran's vision as it blurred upon the falling of the blade. A loud metallic sound resonated instantly as a shadow moved between the two men. Unable to even be confused, Floran felt his energy quickly diminishing syncronized to the amount of blood left in his body. In the last moment before the world around him was swallowed into darkness he recognized the blonde hair and armor of the Delvan templar protecting what was rest of life in him.
"E-... rin..."

Brief flashes of reality was all that came through the numbing darkness. Leaning on the arms of a man whos yells right next to the half-elf's ear sounded like it was miles away. A kind familiar face framed by golden armor calling out to him as she helped his body getting lifted onto to the mount. "Eir-" "I'll be right with you, I promise." The air against his face as the flames shrunk underneath. Dropping into the arms of medics, the sound of their feet on the wooden ship floors. The view of the masts against the stars on the onyx sky. The feel of his soaked clothes beginning to stiffen as the blood dried.

Marcus' face hovered above Floran's, begging him to stay concious. "Stay with me, mate. That's right, just keep looking at me." The warmth from the healers' spells was comforting. And very relieving. With the overwhelming exhaustion he released any tension left in his muscles. "Yes. I'll be right... with you..."

Borrowed lovely ladies (and beef of a man //ming) from Nikae and juhaihai ~

Description

My excuse for over 5 months of inactivity in Alva with this dumb blonde o<-----<
Needed a break to catch my breath for a while-

Okay, so a little context/explanatory literacy to go with that unpolished mess:

He was not supposed to be down there. Floran had specifically been ordered to keep his decury from minimal ground contact. But the bitter taste in his mouth lingered still from his introduction to the Mirian plans for this attack. Both his rejection of his decury being assigned a Cinden and his objections to the cynicism had been denied any hold. The only protest he had available was not one he was ready to commit to. The flight regiment had been his life for too long.

"Get out of here! Run!" The half-elf had previously given the rule of the decury to his second-in-command, Floran's close friend and strong magic-wielder: Marcus Carver. Floran did not want anyone else to risk anything by disobeyed higher orders and he landed his peryton on the streets of Koben, a grand capital on fire, on his own. With desperation and the fullest voice he could muster from his chest he urged the civilians to flee the city as fast as they could. He knew it was too late for many of them but he didn't know what else to do.

The peryton's distressed whine was all Floran managed to register before he hit the rubbled ground, sending crashing waves of loud ringing through his skull. He was able to unhinge his feet from the saddle as the large peryton struggled in panic to get back on its hooves and claws. Framed by the fire a hulking figure stood responsible before Floran. And he was not finished.

- - -

Floran felt his knees hit the ground, sending a shockwave through his upper body. Only by reflex did he save his fall with his hands placed on the burnt surface underneath him. A thousand needles ran rampant through his spine, the agonizing pain paralyzing him. His eyes strained to focus on his hands against the ground but the fadings of blur got stronger. Part of the pain localized to an iciness on his opened side and Floran managed to press his hand against the wound. Bringing it back into his view, the dark glove was soaked in fresh blood. Little streams trickled down between the folds of the fabric.

The screams and cries of citizens and soldier died out. The raging fires silenced. Floran could only hear his own heavy breathing. One incredibly slowing breath after another. Sure of there to be second strike he turned his head to look at the perpetrator. And sure enough, the bulky figure of a man was lifting his sword, readying. There was nothing to do. Floran couldn't think. He couldn't move his legs. He had no weapons left to defend himself with on this short distance.

Floran's eyes locked on the heavy blade as it followed an arch from behind the man whose eyes were burning with hunger for this kill. The light from the stories-high flames around them faded from Floran's vision as it blurred upon the falling of the blade. A loud metallic sound resonated instantly as a shadow moved between the two men. Unable to even be confused, Floran felt his energy quickly diminishing syncronized to the amount of blood left in his body. In the last moment before the world around him was swallowed into darkness he recognized the blonde hair and armor of the Delvan templar protecting what was rest of life in him.
"E-... rin..."

Brief flashes of reality was all that came through the numbing darkness. Leaning on the arms of a man whos yells right next to the half-elf's ear sounded like it was miles away. A kind familiar face framed by golden armor calling out to him as she helped his body getting lifted onto to the mount. "Eir-" "I'll be right with you, I promise." The air against his face as the flames shrunk underneath. Dropping into the arms of medics, the sound of their feet on the wooden ship floors. The view of the masts against the stars on the onyx sky. The feel of his soaked clothes beginning to stiffen as the blood dried.

Marcus' face hovered above Floran's, begging him to stay concious. "Stay with me, mate. That's right, just keep looking at me." The warmth from the healers' spells was comforting. And very relieving. With the overwhelming exhaustion he released any tension left in his muscles. "Yes. I'll be right... with you..."

Borrowed lovely ladies (and beef of a man //ming) from Nikae and juhaihai ~