GUIDE US, O' MIGHTY FURY. ONLY JUSTICE, ONLY VENGEANCE.
[ First... You hear a voice. To many of you, it's familiar, but you can't seem to put your finger on it. It narrates a line with a voice devoid of emotion, disconnected.
"For a millennia, they have been at war..."
When you and another open your eyes, these greet you: the scent of gunpowder and the wild shrieks that knife through the cold, white pall. Snow, mist, a tundra that obscures beyond. The screams are very, what some of you may call, human... Raw and filled with terror and rage. As you turn here and there, you will see flames coming from the sky, torching the camp that welcomes your wake. There are burning tents, cannons overturned, and a large frozen crystal at the center. The few living people here, ironclad in chainmail, have long and pointed ears. There are some that are not, more similar to "human" in every right. Still, the matter is that there are few alive. Wielding their weapons, survivors try to defend their fewer injured.
Lower on the soft blanket of snow, you see a myriad of corpses, some blackened to the brink of ashes, others more fortunate with only half of their body scorched. Those not burned by the seven hells have their bodies torn and soaked in blood, painting the beautiful white expanse with a deep crimson.
And yet something else catches you eye in the chaos. Most noticeable are the insignia on their shields, scattered or held, and the emblem embroidered on the singed banner overhead.
For some of you who may have received memories from Estinien or Aymeric, of their homeland in the cold, these insignias may be familiar. Not that you and another are afforded extra time to digest this all. The camp is being attacked, if we want to remember the fire raining down? Above in the heavens, you will see a horde of dragons. Around on ground-floor, you will see dragons. Dragons, dragons, dragons. The dragons make quick work of one, two...
You must do something, whether to save who's left or to save yourselves. ]
❆ COERTHAS WESTERN HIGHLANDS (KASHUU AND VIN)
ONLY JUSTICE, ONLY VENGEANCE.
[ First... You hear a voice. To many of you, it's familiar, but you can't seem to put your finger on it. It narrates a line with a voice devoid of emotion, disconnected.
"For a millennia, they have been at war..."
When you and another open your eyes, these greet you: the scent of gunpowder and the wild shrieks that knife through the cold, white pall. Snow, mist, a tundra that obscures beyond. The screams are very, what some of you may call, human... Raw and filled with terror and rage. As you turn here and there, you will see flames coming from the sky, torching the camp that welcomes your wake. There are burning tents, cannons overturned, and a large frozen crystal at the center. The few living people here, ironclad in chainmail, have long and pointed ears. There are some that are not, more similar to "human" in every right. Still, the matter is that there are few alive. Wielding their weapons, survivors try to defend their fewer injured.
Lower on the soft blanket of snow, you see a myriad of corpses, some blackened to the brink of ashes, others more fortunate with only half of their body scorched. Those not burned by the seven hells have their bodies torn and soaked in blood, painting the beautiful white expanse with a deep crimson.
And yet something else catches you eye in the chaos. Most noticeable are the insignia on their shields, scattered or held, and the emblem embroidered on the singed banner overhead.
For some of you who may have received memories from Estinien or Aymeric, of their homeland in the cold, these insignias may be familiar. Not that you and another are afforded extra time to digest this all. The camp is being attacked, if we want to remember the fire raining down? Above in the heavens, you will see a horde of dragons. Around on ground-floor, you will see dragons. Dragons, dragons, dragons. The dragons make quick work of one, two...
You must do something, whether to save who's left or to save yourselves. ]