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Black Falcon & Strega: Final Arc
To be left alone
The brimwitch stood upon familiar magmic land. 

Visions of the future became visions of the past as blood melted into the ground and tears steamed into the air.

She had her time to grief, and stood before a foe far, far greater than her- Ready to give her everything. Everything she was- Her indviduality lost.

...but in the end.. Only she remained once more.
She lost those important to her..But she remained. As if tethered to this world by luck or force, she didn't want to spend it alone.
But her attempt to save her dearest bulwark's life may have given them a fate worse than death, their memory tainted...
An overwhelming guilt of selfishness and regret washed over her.
She gazed to the sky, watching the stars fall. The very heavens weep in rejoice of the death of the horrible thief- But she feels no lasting joy.
Only fear.
Worry of the future. Worry of the past.  
But life must keep moving. Nothing stops its path. She could be given no rest, just as her fated knight. She deserved this, she thought. Every second of it...
And who was to say she would not follow a similar path of madness as the demon they had slain that day? 
All these things converged to one thought...
So she left those magmic lands for her own, with a new hunger. A new lust- Replacing her will for companionship..
To be left alone.
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Within the city of Tannis, yet another tomorrow comes...

Early in the morning, in a sizable home within Tannis presently surrounded by numerous trees and diligently guarded by several youkai, a Grimalkin awakes. She is but one of many that fought against the man named Cornelius Schlager, and aided in defeating him. 

She slowly brings herself to her feet, before trying to reach for a PDA nearby with her right hand... only to realize that she can't do so anymore - the right arm she used to rely on has been burned away by fierce Akashic flames, so much so that even the High Priestess was incapable of restoring it for her. A sigh escapes her lips, changing arms to pick up the device this time and glancing at the screen.

The Grimalkin woman quietly mutters to herself.
"7 AM, huh..." While not a particularly unusual time for an individual to wake up, she had expected to be out cold for a lot longer than she was. "...Probably going to fall asleep later on in the day, then. Hopefully Yuki will be awake." She presses a few buttons on the PDA, making use of it to look through things - several requests, as well as a particular conversation she had been following and taking part in closely for a little while. A message is sent - an indication for those there that the long battle is over.

In her mind, it was inevitable that she would end up fighting Cornelius - between him manipulating and sacrificing others for his own gain, and his long-standing goal, it's unlikely that she wouldn't have needed to fight him at one point or another. With him, Arael and the Black Falcon, and numerous other threats constantly appearing, she had very little choice but to make it a habit to keep growing stronger. She didn't completely mind - after all, combat is her forte, and she enjoyed it far more than a number of other things.

However, it did leave her with a feeling of loneliness - the people she could spare time to interact with was limited, and even the time she could spend with her own children had to be cut short as things continued to require more and more power to keep up with the unnatural abilities, weapons or tools being used against her. More and more time was used on various black door expeditions, hunting beasts, tournaments and the like, and little was spent with the people she fought for in the first place. Even the amount of power she had obtained through all this time simply wasn't enough, as both her arm and her husband's hands have been obliterated when trying to block Ultima.

"Let's see... I guess I'll have to look for someone good with prosthetics. Yuki absolutely needs his hands right now." With those words, she moves slightly, glancing to the other individual sleeping in the same room, and giving a quick kiss on the cheek to avoid disturbing his rest too much, before taking a step out of the room. "After that, I'll have to figure out prosthetics for myself, too... and a casting tool, my bracelets aren't much good... The next few days are going to be long...

...oh well. Never a dull day." She speaks aloud to herself with a faint smile, glancing around the house. It is quiet at this hour - with the exception of the sounds of nature outside, or a few youkai wandering around, there is barely any sound. Likely a good time to head out and get to work...

...but for today, she elects to stay at home. The kids have likely missed their mother's cooking, after all.
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There at the beginning; missing at the end, a once hero thinks back.

If he had known all those years ago, coming back to find his brother 'dead', his life upturned, that he'd be witnessing the early movements of one of the most utterly gruesome, massive movements in recent Sigroganan History, Diego Gollwitzer might not have been able to bring himself to take the first step into that dreary, parasite ridden warehouse that showed him what laid underneath.

It brought the worse agony, the most abhorrent regret. The loss of his brother, the months upon years striving to get him back from death's grip. The countless foes and adversaries he'd met along the way, Grimm, The Many-a-Flavor of Parasite Hosts, Him,  There never failed to be a new terror lurking around the next corner. Going after him and his family.

But he fought, and trained, and trudged forward. For every failure; he pushed his body to it's limits and learned how he'd succeed the next time. He got help from those amazing, endearing faces he'd met over his years of his life, the utterly-insane but well-meaning family of Vampires, Zen; whom first dragged him to that damned school--a choice which would lead to him meeting some of his greatest friends, and his future wife and mother of his children. The utterly unforgettable dry wit of Warrick. The punishments he'd faced for disobeying, and the smile he wore all while showing it to his teachers.

For each and every horrid member; the Caverns of Ice, the Illusion-Parasites, the coming-of-age brawl which left him killing a man whom first set him on his path of heroics, Jokull. There were equally adoring, peaceful memories which would linger to the day he was on his deathbed.

He fought his fight, he trekked his path. But eventually, his embers grew dim. He joined the Guard. He followed the rules. He wasn't great at them, being the loose cannon he was. But he tried. He lost his own path of righteousness in favor of something different--greater even. A family, a life. An  out which so few ever got, in lifes like his own.
That didn't stop him, though. The day came, just recently so, where he was able to fulfill the culmination of a nigh-decade of anger, of finding the man who'd thrown a wrench so thoroughly into his life that it left him waking up in cold sweats of what might come to the very day.

Yet, when he had him there. His revenge poised. He could do naught but let his grip grow firm, and his mercy be flashed. There was yet something more important, to him. The very same day his badge and keys turned into. Truly, a free man.

But it was not to fight, it was not to truly push himself to ending this debaucle of ages. He was not there, when the Throne was breached and his compatriots fought. He couldn't be.

No, the same night Cornelius fell. That the sky fell in a flurry of stars. The once prolific Gollwitzer walked the streets of Alstalsia; a merry, brisk walk. Each arm overtaken by a toddler, twins of such beautiful features. Sharing both he and his mothers in yet different ways. His hands yet firm and weathered after decades of brawling. His eyes, starting to sink faintly with the age. The faintest signs of the years starting to show on the Wyvern''s face now.

As the sky reigned, and the news spread like wildfire, the Wyvern could only pause in his walk to stare upwards at the sight. Not the mere sight of a astral phenomenon. As the stars rained, with them fell the fear and regret of so many whom had been brought to heel by the Falcon's 'reign'. In the coming days, no doubt receiving news of the status of his compatriots, the Wyvern would take a moment. Looking at his old, studded gloves with a moment of debate; it'd been so short, yet already he felt his body's need for action stirring.

Or it was, until the laughs of his children were heard. 

Diego Gollwitzer had won. He had his family, his friends, and his beloved. He had everything he ever needed. No longer did the fires of fight fill his gut on every occasion, no longer were his hands beaten ragged in his efforts to push his limits. The Wyvern...was content. He did what Jokull couldn't.

And for the first time, since the first drop of blood was spilled; he slept peacefully, hopeful of the days that would come and the joy that they'd bring, seeing his children grown. Reconvening with family long distant. He was excited, not for a fight. But for LIFE!

OOC Note: While I had a few characters involved with The Falcons, it was Diego whom truly had his character wrapped around the plotline, from high to low the development of his character was etched into the basis of that singular, supposes-to-be-brief event, and oh how it turned out. To Fern and Auggy; thank you for making the best of my early SL2 days, with this plotline and all that came of it, it made for some damn fine days.

-Your Local Loaf GM.
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It felt like forever since I've personally taken field against the Black Falcons. I've given years of my life, lost a few friends along the way, felt as if I'd never know peace. Arael was slain in Chaturanga, a missed opportunity to settle the score once and for all. A man I had known the company of briefly in captivity, staying months at a time. And now, it's over. Cornelius, at the height of his ascension, was slain. Our losses were by no means small. Everyone who had arrived sacrificed something to see it happen. In all my years of military service, I had thought that I would not repeat the mistakes of my past. But this time, it was different. When I felt the earth rise up and pierce my flesh, I couldn't help but remember everything... Everything that led up to this moment. I felt my regrets, the loss of not only the years of my life from wielding dusk to escape, but the loss of someone special. Isaiah. For the brief moment my consciousness slipped, I remembered you, Isaiah. I remember your loss of life, how you bled out right in front of my eyes. I saw it happen with my comrades, with Varen, Eiael, and Redfield. I watched what I had thought would have been our final moments as friends.

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But it didn't end there.
It didn't end, even as I felt the pain searing my lungs, my insides. When the strength in my arm was undone. When all felt... Lost. For the first time since your death, Isaiah, I had given up hope. I was ready. I was prepared to have let my final moments on this plane of existence be to rasp out, with my dying breath, the names of my comrades before my own. Even when the world around me grew dark and my final thoughts kept locked inside my mind, I was ready to pass into Lazarus. I came to Sigrogana to get my fresh start, to seek penance for the deaths of my comrades from my ineptitude. The jeers of their families still ring soundly in my mind, the cold shoulder my own father gave me before I was put into exile. And yet, were it not for that fatal mistake, I would not have met all of you. I would not have had the journey of a lifetime in which I re-learn to make companions once more.

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I would not have met you fine folk.

I would not have discovered an entire world beyond Chaturanga. I have remembered pain, suffering, I remembered the self-hatred in my heart and learned the hatred for others. Arael is dead, but so are you, Isaiah. My time will inevitably come, I have no misconception of that. But, for as long as there stands Evil in this world, those that seek to disrupt peace established across the realm, I will be there. I will fight. I might not win, but I will die striving for the good of this world. Whether my death will come about as Julien the Guardsmen, Julien the Lancer, or simply that of a Masked Mercenary, I will give my life to gladly fell another Demigod. I will take all the evil in this world and plunge it down into the abyss with me, all so that there will never be another like you that bleeds out before me. I am finally free of my pain, Isaiah. Although it pains me to know that Varen will join you among my dearly departed friends, I can only pray to Ryart that you two will still be waiting for me at the gate. I can only pray that our time apart has not made you forgotten your old friend.

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The world almost ended a week ago or two, yet here I am choosing to be by myself while many people that I know celebrate the year with parties and mourn the dead. Not even a word to he who pictured the both of us as siblings. Part of the continent was filled with talks of gratitude for the life we were given and speeches about how we should remember our mortality, some still mulling about the question of who should get the larger share of the dessert. Same old, different day. Everyone's suddenly a poet these days, but whatever. It feels as though a lot of things are changing, yet static at the same time. I don't know, maybe I haven't heard enough to be fully in the know on what changed and what remained.

All the fighting that I and the rest of the adventuring community have to do is slowly coming to a close. Even go as far as to think that the day that Strega falls would be the day that my medical records stop going through the roof, which kind of makes me wonder if there's an external force out there keeping me from ever drawing another breath. Anyhow, that's what I thought during the course of all the conflict. Given the talk about plans and schedules, I figured that they probably thought the same as I do and are choosing to go back to the way that things are to enjoy whatever the continents have to offer while they still have time. If anything we experienced in the war is like how the storybook does it, we'd have some form of conclusion to end the narrative with. Obviously, that's not how the whole thing works. It's just one big chapter done and the beginning of another, continuing the cycle.

The war is over and things are slowly returning to normalcy. Still, what would become of the world after everything that had happened? I might as well still be fighting, it's all I know and what I enjoyed at aside from playing fortune teller with tarot cards or lurking around places that I haven't known. There is a wide array of emotions to be felt in the heat of a moment, something I can't deny even if the actions that I'd be willing to take are about achieving something of great importance. A bit too uncivilized and backward, maybe. Not quite sure whether or not they're going to make any difference if we can still accept that almost everyone that we fought is still a living being. Too lofty? I suppose, but if doing that keeps me sane? I don't think I'd be asking too many questions.

It feels satisfying... in a strange way, returning to the Estate. It reminds me of that one time when she told me about how we are all going to return from the war and all of this is going to be just a collective set of bad memories... that we'll somehow be fine in the end. The last time I came here with her words in mind, it all escalated quickly and I'm honestly having trouble understanding the 'why' of Cornelius coming after us and/or her. Well, what's done is already done. As weird and contradictory as she is and her history, I think her tendency to feel down and putting up a brave face not long after is rubbing off on me. The war probably kind of amplified that. Honestly, I'm not sure if I am still the same person as I once was a long time ago. Even less so, if it's a positive change or not.

Everyone else made returning from war a bit too easy after everything that they've gone through, was this just another day in the field for them? Garrett spoke about how he doesn't have anything cooked up if the miracle that we're all still alive happened, so relaxed and uncaring about what'd lie ahead. And Sean is already talking about getting together with his beloved, while seriously fatigued in the battle through countless waves of hostile dusk mutants no less. I suppose it's... admirable, for both of them, to be able to move seamlessly through the drama without putting as many thoughts into the whole thing. Hah! All the learning about life and people from the closest of my companions and here I am, still nothing to show for it.

And so, the world moves on fairly quickly. Probably with the biggest sigh of relief that they can muster too. To them, the Strega and Black Falcon movements are just another one of those issues that we've written off the list about many other things that still needed solving. Deriving from what's been said on the conversation with.. a certain someone, I have to wonder if anything in that figurative list can be solved one at a time... would it be wise to interfere? Oh, and... I don't think I can trust how the situation might appear to be on the surface. Many possibilities in the distant future, of how things would play out. As for the detail of what I see, I'm unsure. I'll just hope that the time we have for the rest and recuperation doesn't make us lazy. Naturally, though? I'm... relieved.
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The following is a small excerpt from a certain Bookworm's dairy.
Entry XIII - The War's End

At last, Cornelius has fallen, bringing this bloody conflict to a draw. Many have fought bravely to bring this about, whether it be for the world at stake, or as a form of vengeance for the fallen. 

Currently as I write this entry on Chaturanga's docks, I'm still left a bit unsure what to make of it all. While the death of Cornelius has put an end to Strega, and the atrocities they were responsible for across the lands...  the losses we suffered along the way really have put a damper for me on what should be a time for celebration. Countless lives of people I did and did not know were lost throughout this grueling war, people who others and myself held dear.

 No matter how much we grieve for them, they will not return to us. They will never get to see what became of their friends and family with all of this fighting at its end. The realization that many of those within the Falcon's and Strega's ranks were nothing but pawns to an old man lusting power is also quite painful to me. To think that just one man's greed could have forever changed the lives of thousands for the worse, the thought is quite honestly sickening.

The sight of those who I consider comrades and friends die continues to haunt me. I know that not everyone can be saved in a time of war...  but I wish I could of done something, anything, so that I could continue to spend time with them now. From Latto, to Varen, to every other one I was close to in-between, I shall live on for all of you. All of us shall live on so that your deaths weren't in vain...


Looking out and taking in the vastness of the sea gives me a sense of calm; no matter what happens in this world, the ocean cares not. It reminds me of days gone by too, of time I spent with friends who are no longer here. The surface of the water reflects my form like a mirror upon a wall. In that reflection I see a paradox of self-  for I have changed without changing. I'm no longer the person I once was, and yet I'm more of myself than ever before. 

Though left with such an existential question, I find myself quite content with how things have turned out in my personal life. As I had discussed with my fiancée, I plan on being home more to work on family matters going forward. This is probably for the best anyways, especially with the loss of my left arm. With the wedding day arriving soon, I look forward to see how my life will end up changing over the course of the next few years, especially with all foreseeable threats seemingly gone. 

And thus the wave of my own life lives on, traveling on through the sea of time to experience life as it comes.
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How... did I get wrapped up in this?
Quote:I came to Sigrogana for... a new life. After everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong in Oniga, I wanted somewhere I could be seen as new. Somewhere I could just be myself and be happy again. For a while... I think it happened. I found friends, started to learn music, got a job, and was having fun. I had my own little adventuring group, I had joined a band, I have to figure I might've been somewhat decently recognized...

Sometime during the adventures I had, we encountered... Scavenger. I don't know how much that name means to anybody else. I don't know if anyone even cared about him. But something struck me that day. A need to get stronger... a need to become someone who can fight. I've... struggled with why, though.

I never even fought him. He never laid an attack on me, nor did I to him that day. I only watched him as he tore my party apart. Perhaps it was some sense of... wanting to protect my friends? Was it to get stronger so I didn't hesitate to fight? Was it wanting to redeem myself and show that I did have the ability to fight? Or could it even be just seeing the others being able to hold my own... that I might want to be like that someday?

I don't know. And it digs deep into me and burns me any time I think about it. I want to know. What caused me to be so intensely dedicated to kill him?


I got wrapped in so much. I struck at Black Falcon and learned about Strega, I faced some of my greatest fears and conquered them, hid with those that were even more intertwined with everything... yet somehow along the way I got stronger and found the meaning to my life under falling stars... I made friends I never thought I'd be able to achieve, recognition and comfort from those that seemed to be so far above me, and the ability to help those that were so important to this all...

I faced death once... it was with an Executioner, trying to buy some time to protect an ally in his final attack... its scythe left a hole almost through my stomach. I don't know how I'm alive... sometimes I feel patchwerk. I don't think my stomach ever feels okay after my first encounter with that Executioner... it used to hurt deeply bad inside, like a hex... now it's not nearly as bad, but it holds some... bad space in my head. Something I can't forget. Now a rare pain that... I know isn't real, but hurts nonetheless... not in my stomach, but in my mind...

Somehow... I survived to my goal. We finally managed to get our team... and we fought Scavenger. We brought him down, we did everything we could to counter him, we accomplished our goal with flying colors... and it didn't feel right. He poured so much emotion onto us, to which we poured emotion back onto him... in the end, we didn't even kill him directly... we just had to watch him die. Not that... we wanted to save him really, but at the same time, one couldn't help but... wish he had it better.

...There were two things that struck me. That he said back then, that made me realize everything.

"...It was... the only thing that gave me enjoyment. Our little game of back and forth."

Not... his exact words by far, perhaps, but... I remember, he said that... we gave him purpose, enjoyment, a means to keep going through our game of hide and seek. Us trying to find him, him trying to distract us and run away... and indeed, I think that was true for us as well. We were so... driven to do this. It pushed us to get better, go higher... and then when it was over... there was nothing to do. No reason for us to do more. It was our goal... complete. On one hand, satisfying... on the other... emptying.

"...She reminds me of her. Julia."

...I don't remember his exact words. But... close to his final moments... I remember him saying... my lover, she looked just like his sister. And from what I remember... all of this, it happened because she died. And... I... I can't... remember if he exactly said this, but... I swear, every time I think back... whenever these thoughts haunt me... I thought he said...

"If you lost her, would you do the same? To find any way to get her back?"

...I keep thinking my mind made this one up. Yet I also can't help but remember it... either way, though...
I think I would have... if not for all this...


I figured it out. I wanted to fight because I didn't want to lose anyone. That day, I was frozen and unable to do anything to help my friends, as I watched them get beat down. I was worried that if they'd get in a situation like that again... they would die. And I regarded every one of them stronger than me... so I had to get stronger so that I could do something. Be it protect them, be it fight with them, be it just strong enough to push them out of the way to save them... because if I failed, I would have felt broken. I wouldn't have been willing to keep going, because it was only reassurance I wasn't strong enough... that I wasn't meant for this. Or that I would have gone crazy, in an attempt to get too much power... to achieve an impossible goal...

And... I thought I did it. I thought I got strong enough to protect everyone. And... I guess I did...

...Keira's death hit me hard...

I had sworn off any more involvement in Black Falcon. I wanted my break. Of course, as fucking soon as I do this, I wasn't there to help her. I may have been strong enough, but I just... wasn't there. I may have not been her closest friend, she may have not been the closest to me, but I realize she is the one who enabled me to do all of this. My connection to the D'Orleans, my encouragement to strike it with Miki, the reason I got to know Kazu well, how I stuck to the Hearth, how I was able to hide and live for the first half of my involvement in this whole thing... and to fail the one thing I could have given in return hurts. 

So I took part in the final battle. Just to hope that... wherever she is, I was able to do something for her.


After it was all over, I looked up at the sky. Falling stars... it reminded me of that one night. Where I found my reason to continue. And I wondered to myself... why am I risking my life again?

I think I'm going to retire from any hero or mercenary duties or whatever. I'll stick to fighting to defend myself, and those I love. I'm going to focus on my music, and enjoy what I have now, especially now that things seem to be safe - or at least safer on the average. Safer for me and Miki.

I don't want to know what will happen to me if I lose Miki. I could feel myself boiling during the final fight, over the loss of Keira.
I don't want to know what will happen to Miki if she loses me. Especially since... I think she'd fall to it easier than me.
We each have our reason to continue. Let's not lose them.


May those who lost their lives in the battles rest well knowing they are heroes for standing up against odds which seemed impossible, and that their sacrifices were not in vain...
May those who were injured in these battles recover well knowing that not only are they heroes, but that they saw it through to the end, and will be able to live safe from their own efforts...
The Song Of Love
Ai Nota
(Ai No Uta - literally, Song of Love)
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Meanwhile, in the mind of a Knight who found peace...
It was like a dream. But where does the real life begin, and the dream end? The battle at the Godly stage, or the endless darkness that enveloped him? When he pushed his body beyond the limits and used the power of his anger and rage against the one who destroyed everything for the sake of his own ego, he felt complete. The final sacrifice made to prove that even that demigod was only mortal. His only worry then was if anyone would make it home. The darkness enveloped him as he looked over everyone and knew,

that they would be going home...

Everything began to go dark as the high subsided. As his body realized that it was dying, and everything began to disappear from his mind. As worries made way for acceptance, he knew that there would be another like him. There would be others to pass on his torch. To bear his flame. He fell into a deep sleep, comforted in these rationalizations. Thin as they may be.


Time begins to pass. In his mind, but hours. Long hours spent recollecting the self, wondering what if, and what is. Why this body continues to think if he has died long before. Memories of friends, of a familial bond between him and his siblings in battle. Remembering what his name was, how he fought, his creed.

They flashed before his eyes; visions of a Drifter who beared sword and glaive, the friend who he made first. Of a swordsman who was wrapped up in battle; and provided a healthy rivalry, even as the old company fell apart. The days spent in Tannis, defending it from harm, then being offered a position within its militia. How willingly he took upon that mantle! How willingly he did so, so that he could fight alongside the Reaper Brothers. The adventures that he found himself undertaking when he was by their side- oh, how could he forget?

When he met a close friend of that Drifter, he knew that he had to dedicate himself to this duty. Although he could not fight alongside him on the fateful day, he knew that, at least, he could fight alongside someone familiar; a pink haired Healer who was his friend. When he fought alongside the both of them in the Seige, he knew that they all made a great team. A shame, then, that these partnerships were not to be in the coming battles.

When they fought against the executioners, oh by the skin of their teeth and by the grace of their Gods did his party make it out alive! Even with his might and her healing, it was still such a gamble! Yet, the knowledge that they were all safe; that was reason enough to keep on going.
That, and the need to quiet the dragon within.

It was on that final day; the day when the game was to be ended, the final plays were to be made, and the King was cornered that the stakes were at their highest, when the Reaper's scythe was upon all their necks. The Drifter- Tenyu, stayed behind to fend off Mother; a valiant deed, if comparatively humble. It left him, the healer, Abi, her companion, Lia, and a Lich to fight against the Demigod. Was it irrational not to feel fear? Yes. Was it foolish to even try and stand up to him? Yes. Would it have been a better idea to have grabbed everyone and ran back down the mountain?
Of course not.

Yet, thinking back on it, if he had so much duty, why did he throw his life away so willingly? Was it a need to defy the odds? No. It was simply because he died the first time he made his entrance. Every blow after that was against a corpse. Not one of them scarred his will; now tempered by the flames of battle. And though his party may have done ultimately nothing; still his valiant cheers and bold spirit may have inspired the others to fight on.

Truly, if he didn't have so much duty, he would not have so much time to reflect. After all, everything is still dark.
That's right. It all went dark. He departed the world with one last wild rush, after the last battle of his life. Or... so he thought. If this was truly the end, then there would be more than the dark. Sure, he departed this world; dropping away all his worries after the highest height of his life, but something gnawed at him. Something lingered. A reminder? Light, at the end of the tunnel. Memories rushing back to him. At least, it felt like it was rushing back to him.

His flame continued to burn on. Fueled by the memories of his friends, the memories of a town that depended on him. The continued waves of black beasts that assaulted the town; the flames that would burn them all away. The continued troubles both in the Motherland and upon Sigrogana's soil, the men and women that depended on him, and men like him. The smiles of those who he needed to protect, and those who he fought alongside. That's right!

It was as though he was yanked back from the brink of death for a reason. His name: Rand. His purpose: to protect. His creed: to fight to the end. It was at this moment; when everything finally lined back up, that he realized that he was awake for longer than he thought he was. The world outside the mind is bright. It's full of friends. It is full of adventure. With a duty to keep this world alive, he found himself in the green, green grass of Tannis. Duty never ended for him.

Disoriented, his eyes are flooded with light. It was a miracle that he survived; though a peculiar spiral-shaped scar remains; a reminder that he evaded almost-certain death by only the grace of the Gods.

Leaving the dream, the Knight disappeared from the hospital the moment he was dismissed, holding a blade that was warped beyond recognition, but belonging to a hilt and guard that still remain.

And eventually, he faded into memory, or so others thought.
But there are rumors of a golden-caped Knight, bearing blade and flame. But as soon as the battle ends, he disappears.

His aura is quiet. His blade is repaired and reborn anew. Though Duty continues to keep him marching onward, now this armored knight seeks greater challenge.
For so long as the world keeps on turning, there will be a stronger enemy; for which he must be ready to defend against.
My past haunts me every day, and it's the form of a journal I can't let go of.
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  • Fern
It's just a burning memory...
You've come across a journal. It seems to have been left open, out in the park in Dormeho. You really should find the owner, but curiosity gets the better of you...
It's hard. To always forget, but then... always remember.
So many people died because of the Falcon and Strega. It wasn't just the people we knew the names of - so many soldiers, so many innocent people who couldn't escape in time... Did I know their names at one point? I might have.
I swore to myself I wouldn't let anyone die, but in the end... I couldn't keep that promise. Would I have been better off forgetting that promise?
What about Scavenger? Or Len? Should I forget them too, forget what brought me pain, forget what nearly killed me?
I've already forgotten that girl's name, the one my friends knew... we weren't really friends, but... I'm still kind of bothered.
Although... I think, maybe, it'd be fitting if we forgot the name Cornelius. If he became nothing but smudged ink, a frayed string formerly tied on a finger. It's not what he wanted, but I think it's what he deserves. But...
Will I ever forget him?
I hope I do.
Goodbye, Falcon. Goodbye, Strega.
I don't know if I'll ever forget.
Someone clears their throat behind you. A papilion, of about 5 feet tall, with bright orange hair. "That's my book," they state flatly, and you hand it back without issue. Eventually, you... well, it's not right to say you forget the incident. It's more like you don't think about it that often.
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  • Fern
A nightmare finally over...
The following passage is from the Journal of the Imperial Guard!

"Another day passes in the empire, some days the same, some days not. Who'd have thought that after all these years, after Black Falcon successfully destroyed the capital, that everyone would be in the same mind and heart as everyone was? I wasn't able to aid in the affairs that transpired at the Godly stage and yet I still can't understand why I beat myself up about not being there.."

The bunny folds her arms a simple glance is given to the sky, the stars glistening, the moon giving off its crescent shape and its shine.

"Where do we stand now...I swore to my daughter I wouldn't continue this line of work and yet I'm still here, working for the guard even after everything they've been through... Heck...I still can't believe Varen is dead...but I doubt he or anyone else would want us to let it affect us..."

The bunny shakes her head...

"Everyone who died, everyone who had this one goal, for that one moment was like family...or something like that..."

A hand is then reached towards the moon and then clenched into a fist. perhaps in a sign of hope.

"Perhaps it's worth creating a Memorial of those that lost their lives in the final battle and through the entire war... or an official day of remembrance...not only for the people but as a reminder that as a collective, we can achieve great things such gladly fell a Demigod...Cornelius' actions, his ideals shattered and gone with him...I wouldn't wish this type of thing anyone nor would I expect anyone to give their life for such cause but when does anything ever go the way we plan?"

Nothing but silence fills the eastern district of the Capital, Least we forget those that fought to the end, those that never saw it to the end, no matter if living or dead, be it male or female, friend or foe, colleagues or loved ones, they may be gone but never shall they be forgotten, together we stand, alone we fall. Dare not take your life for granted but instead as a shimmer of hope for your future, an opportunity to strive in a world gave their lives to protect so that you could wake up the next morning.

The book closes on another entry and is locked away never to be used again. The next chapter in one's life is ready to begin and blossom.

[Image: Empress_of_Light.gif]
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  • Fern

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