Dawn RisesIt would take no less than three days, and three long nights of travel. The Chrafei were ever present, high above in the day, and near at hand at night, where the glow of their feathers lit the way for the travelers who followed the path fate lay before them.
It is dawn of the fourth day, and you have all arrived at the wasted strip. A long and grueling travel by horse over the mainland, but those had to be abandoned on the second day, as you took a small airship out across the open air to Isla Garnach, where the strip resides. Below you is the breath, the pink and purple misty clouds, colored by the light of dawn into orange and yellow mists and strips. It is a beautiful thing, the breath, called so because it is believed to have been the breath of the gods that raised the skylands above the wasted world.
The sun rises, and reveals to you the shore of the island, covered in broken and bleeding bodies and corpses. There are thousands upon thousands of soldiers, all dead, or dying. The bodies lead up the strip towards a narrow pass, where a few hundred warriors still fight against a single man.
Tolend Dathar.
Truly if the gods can be reborn as human, then he is a god of battle. Though his armor is bloodied, rent, his weapon and shield broken in multiple places, still does he stand. A bastion for the last hope of Asylia, the final barricade against evil. When all others have failed and fallen, he yet stands to protect the princess.
And behind him, overwhelming the dawns own light, is the princess herself, beautiful as life, and just as fragile. Even from the distance can her eyes be made out, a light to cut through darkness down in the very soul of the people.
The captain of the ship you have comandeered has seen the corpses, and he begins barking orders to his men. He intends to turn away, to abandon the princess and her guardian.