The screams of the Cloaked occupy my mind as I could only feel darkness and the ever burning rage to live within me. Swing, Cleave, Smash, Repeat.
Again and again, I fight. I don't know how long, but I cleave into the darkness with a weapon that isn't even effective for this fight, but it was all I had. Swing, Block, Crush, Repeat.
Scars continue to draw themselves across my body. My rocky plates continue falling off, chipping away from the constant damage I am receiving, but pain is only a reminder. I am still alive. Swing, Cleave...Fall?
I fall to the ground. My body crushing the bones that scatter themselves in fragments across the dark grass, some piercing what non scarred tissue I had left from the impact of the fall. The last of my strength now leaving my body. Did I even get any of them? I can't see anymore. The darkness now encapsulating my surroundings in void. All I can see is the black of shadow, all I can hear are the deafening howls of the cold gusts of wind that pass by my bleeding out body...or perhaps those were the murderous wails of the cloud of Cloaked that seek to kill me. I am now but a body laying amongst many, if I could even call myself one. I am bathed in blood and engulfed in wounds. Everything hurts. I can no longer find the strength to lift my arms, nor my legs. I cannot breathe. My chest sears with white hot pains whenever I try, yet breathe I must. Even my hands refuse to listen anymore. My fingers, practically glued to the blood-soaked leathers around the pickaxe I call my weapon. The head of such was close to being shattered. The gem in the middle now losing its glow. The once beautiful gift my master gave me now tainted by my own blood. I could only apologize in silence, as even my mouth rejects the thought of even moving an inch.
My eyes were next. They started to close as I stared at the light emitting from the gem of my pickaxe slowly lower to fade away. My vision blurring as all my other senses joins it in failure. Soon, everything became silent. I could hear the cacophony of voices approaching me. This was truly the end, and I would greet this ending with confidence. I shall welcome the light of Lady Enes.
My eyes close. My body rests. All I can see now is truly nothing. Not darkness. Not dark color, but nothing. This sensation reaches out to my other senses as well. The howling winds and the echoes of war fade to silence. The biting cold and the pain of my wounds were next to follow. Finally, the ground underneath seemed to give way. Like I was floating in an empty space. All of my senses were at ease. If this was death, it was a beautiful welcome.
"Oh? You're early..."
A voice? Who-
"Questions you'll ask at a later time. But hush dear, you're not ready."
Among the empty space, a warm feeling begins to surround my body. Like I was being swaddled by cloth and embraced by a caring soul. Strange. This feeling that surrounds me felt oddly familiar. It was as if it had been engrained into my mind somehow. A feeling one could only get from being together for a very long time. Yet stranger still? It did not feel like the touch of my mother.
"It's not your time yet. Wake up."
Wait, but who are you?
I open my eyes. The blinding light soon fading as my blurred vision recovers to a normal state. I was staring upwards to a cloth-like ceiling. Canvas lining and stretched across wooden supports. A tent? As my senses soon returned, I could feel the warmth of what seemed to be cloth or linen brushing against my skin. A blanket. Soon, the sounds of a crowd seemed to be fading into my ears. Outside were the voices of various men and women scrambling about, barking orders at each other and some requesting the aid of who was available. The gentle glow of green and white escapes the hands of these people and finally, I had realized where I was.
Sitting upright, one of the Healers of this crude clinic ran to my side and gently pressed her hands against my back and chest. My hearing hadn't come back fully yet so I couldn't make out fully what she was saying, but from her frantic searching around, she seemed to be surprised that I was reacting at all.
It didn't take too long for a group of people crowding the cot I was sitting on. A majority of which were healers and aides as they frantically surrounded me, checking the bandages, of which I had realized practically wrapped around my body, covering almost all of it. They also seemed to be casting some spells, some of which I could only assume were healing spells, and some I did not recognize, nor did I have the knowledge to identify them. The other part of the crowd were more menacing.
One was a woman. Elven with darker skin and an ocean blue colored hair flowing neatly behind her as it was tied into a quickly made low ponytail. Her outfit was clad in all sorts of material that one could assume were from noble sources such as wool or silk, but from closer inspection, it was just normal cloth, leather, and a few metallic elements that were arranged in such a way that one wouldn't assume it was armor at all, in fact, it made her seem like she belonged among the highest families of House Mythril. The dark cloth hugged her body like it was a second set of skin. Sleeves extending long outwards, even beyond the length of her arms as it flows downwards, like a dark tide of water. The rest of this dress-armor cuts off from a dark cloth to an immediate contrast of white that flowed downwards like the waves of a lake hugging the edges of a shore. The metallic parts of this armor seemed to be bronze or brass. Maybe even gold, but the lighting from the tent did not help in identifying it. It was shaped less practically and more ornately as it formed into intricate swirls, which mold into floral designs. These parts cleanly shaped into a thin pair of pauldrons that sit neatly on her shoulders and an expensive looking brooch that sits perfectly center on the lower part of her neck.
She kept her piercing emerald gaze into my direction, yet she kept a more calm and collected expression. It was as if she was studying my form...
Next was a rare sight to behold. A half-kin Lizardfolk. This green scaled muscular male towered over the elf as he stood next to her, arms crossed. He was dressed more practically though as he seemed have seen his fair share of battles, judging from the cuts and chips that are present across his plate armor and dark leather gambeson. Various fangs and bones were hung on string and decorated the rest of his armor, like trophies on hunts. He also seemed to wear a cape lined with fur at the top, and from the angle I could see, it seemed like it sported the symbol of the kingdom of Ironkiln itself. Perhaps maybe it was a flag itself turned into a cape. He didn't bother wearing gauntlets nor boots as his dragon-like claws and feet were strong enough to bypass all need for such. Behind the man and under the cape also seemed to be a tail he had been dragging on the ground. Which was understandable considering the bladed edges of such.
The last was another human. Yet he seemed to have a more commanding presence than the last two combined. He stood with piercing authority and his armor shows that. Sporting thick full plate, shined and cleaned to rival a mirror, yet the shine cannot fool those who truly know their armor. The armor had other metals melded into them, ruining most of the shine, yet it was proof that this man stood not at the back of battle, but in the front with his other brave soldiers. These were tough repairs. Must be from battles far beyond his history. Yet this sort of equipment pales in contrast to the one who was wearing them. His skin was as clean as day albeit the small scars present across his nose and chin, his raven black hair kept in a neat slick back, and his eyes were that of the most azure gems. His overall authority and presence had me wondering if this was the general of the vanguards, causing my body to stiffen slightly from the nerves alone.
I had heard of the other two however, from stories told when I was young by passing travelers, or by my parents and local talefolk. They were the Starlight Witch and the Iron Guillotine respectively. Legendary Members of the Royal Guard. They had originally been adventurers, but because of their unmatched skills in their respective areas, they had been personally scouted out by the King to guard the land itself. What they were doing here, had me stumped and honestly terrified.
As soon as the nurses finished, the man in black hair walked up to my bed, arm resting by the handle of his sheathed sword. His gaze never leaves my person as he begins to form his mouth to speak
"You have to come with us."