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The Seige (Finaro's Account)
Moist leaves struck him in the face and caught in the chinguard of his helmet as he push through the heaving forest. He had never thought himself cut out for actual battle. While his body knew the motions and his muscles sang with the joy of testing themselves against more than practice dummies and sparring partners, this was not a time for rejoicing. Breath hanging in the air, one lone spark of life between the ice and the fire of battle, Finaro paused as his boot slipped in the mud. He was never going to make it.
Forcing himself up the steep incline, Finaro unstrapped the ungainly helm from his head and tossed it beside him. A little extra comfort and mobility would make up for the lack of protection, he decided, and reached up to grab an overhanging branch to help drag himself further towards the trail.
Luth'rel's words in his head did not make the trek easier for him. Do you want to end up like your mother? Are you willing to join the ranks of the Wretched? Finaro had had something to prove to his father, something to prove to his entire family. He had worth to wear the name of House Suncrown. He had worth to wear their gleaming tabbard. He had--
A sickening sound of decaying flesh falling from bone cut through his own internal thoughts. There was no need to turn and face the Scourge victim lurching towards him. He saw the poor woman in her half-disolved armor without lifting his eyelashes and dispatched her just as quickly. These rotting corpses that had become seperated from their ranks were not a problem to overcome, but it was not difficulty that caused Finaro to worry.
His time was running out.
____
Finaro burst into the sunlit clearing, his hair covered in who-knew-what from one of the strays he had come upon in his rush. The village was closeby, close enough now that he could smell the burning remains of buildings and animals and people. His heart sunk in his chest. He should have never agreed to take the furthest patrol. He should have been at the village to protect his family. His young half brother and sister needed him.
Once again, there was nothing in his mind except the words of his father's disappointment for his actions. He had never wanted his eldest son to stray away from his own path in life. Failure by birth and failure as eventual successor, both were heavy burdens for his young shoulders to bear. I should have never taken you in after your mother succumbed. The words had never been spoken save in Finaro's head.
Lifting his eyes to the cerulean sky, now clouded over by thick, black funnel clouds of smoke, Finaro allowed himself to pause for just a moment. It ended up being a moment too long.
"Fin...?" The voice was barely recognizeable, but only one person in the world could get away with shortening a name he clung to like a saftey line.
Finaro's head slowly drifted downwards towards the object he had not seen in the tall grass. The stain of blood and mauled limbs were too numerous to pick out even a bit of flesh moving amoung the carnage until he focused and looked beyond the masacre of his people. His breath caught in his throat and wrapped around his tongue. "Eilan!" It no longer mattered that he was tired or that his body ached. It no longer mattered that, just ahead, the village was on fire and his family was dying.
Eilan smiled weakly as his lover knelt at his side, afraid to touch even his hand or stroke his hair. Eilan was so mangled that the light had faded from his eyes, leaving him little more than a shell. "Fin...if I rise again..." Such things could not be happening. For the last time in his life, Finaro allowed himself to cry, tilting his head forward to rest against bloodstained metal. Eilan did not seem to mind.
____
Though something exploded in the air behind him and people -- and things -- screamed in agony or frustration, Finaro was singularly focused on the slow and steady march towards the crackling ruins of his home. He staggered towards the final stand at the gate, covered in blood that was not his own, hair dipped in gore and face freckled with all that was left of Eilan.
He did not feel the sword pierce his side, did not raise his own in attempt to block it, and fell to the ground at the base of the fountain in the courtyard of what had once been his home. A flash of green was all that he saw before his mind allowed him to rest in the blackness of oblivion.
____
"He's not dead!"
"He must be, he's not breathing!"
"He is so breathing, look closer!"
Finaro awoke to a sound he had feared he would never hear again. Faldanis and Lianna's bickerings had always been a source of annoyance to him, but now he found the arguing to be almost like music. "I may just die yet if you two do not stop," Finaro muttered as he rolled onto his side and gingerly opened his eyes. The walking wounded were everywhere and yet there were so few faces he recognized to be his family. "Please tell me this is not all of us that escaped..."
He got his wish. No one had the stomach to confirm the truth.
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