Fantasy Breath of Fire: Giantslayer

[Bone2pick]

She couldn't help glance over each shoulder to gage the reactions of the champions beside her. Escott had rugged charisma, and his patron wyrm radiated with what Desna could best describe as raw majesty. The looks on the faces of nearby champions echoed her sentiments. She believed the one-eyed man's words, and she judged him to be a worthy leader, but she was conflicted.


And her concerns didn't just come from her order's teachings. She was uncertain that war, so far removed from their homes and not in defense of them, was best for humanity. Desna felt the ghost of Wraprax breathe down her neck. Apparently her entity didn't approve of her doubts. The dragon always challenged her reservations against violence.


Her racing thoughts were interrupted by a small woman who swooned into the champion next to her. The Cleaver, the scavenger queen who spoke with Desna last night, was the one to catch the feint girl. Emotions were running high. She decided to use that moment to voice her concerns.


"And what if we lose the war?" She felt the air suck out of the crowd. Desna knew she was standing amid a room full of heroes, and heroes rarely liked their resolve questioned. But it wasn't a matter of courage.


"I am not a coward. I am a Mothsong Monk, a servant, and defender of the people of Qatqain. And I am willing to die in order to protect them. But our towns are out of reach of the giants. The monsters are not at our doorsteps. Can we afford to throw our lives away and leave our communities without their greatest allies? Do our families not need us here?"

 

[BDark]

Dominic stood in the darker corner of the chamber, listening silently, unseen and noiseless. He felt Birroth stir inside him with mixed feelings he couldn't quite understand, and he didn't blame him. Dominic also had mixed feelings towards the speaking man; Escott was his name, and he spoke with power which he had gained from the past, and Dominic respected that, that he wasn't one who had taken power which he didn't deserve.


"I am not a coward. I am a Mothsong Monk, a servant, and defender of the people of Qatqain. And I am willing to die in order to protect them. But our towns are out of reach of the giants. The monsters are not at our doorsteps. Can we afford to throw our lives away and leave our communities without their greatest allies? Do our families not need us here?"

Dominic finally stepped forth, out of the shadows into the light, revealing himself, and spoke. The cowl was still over his head, covering not his mouth but the rest of his face.


"Then we should prepare the people for what may or may not come, teach them how to fight, to defend themselves." He coughed once then went on, "You never know what may be ready to attack..." He then pulled out his knife, the handle wrapped in old skin, and looked at it briefly before putting it on the table before him. There seemed to be dried blood on the old skin handle of the knife, the sword sheathe and the belt Dominic was wearing seemed to be made from the same skin type. Anybody who killed or injured a giant before would know that this was giant skin. Dominic never killed a giant, but many years before, Isnus had attacked his hometown, but Birroth took a huge chunk of flesh from his leg, sending the giant back to his chasm in pain. Dominic had fashioned several objects using the skin of the giant, including the knife.

 

[Bone2pick]

An appreciative smile spread across the bearded face of Escott as he inspected the weapon on the table. He reached a gloved hand out, lifted the knife, and slowly turned it over in front of the audience before putting it back. The one-eyed man nodded at the cowled champion who had stepped forward.


"The people of the underworld will survive without our help. They will struggle, they will suffer hardships, but they will survive. Four centuries of taming these dark tunnels have proven that."


Escott turned and faced the monk. The smile that was previously on his face had vanished. The two champions stared back at one another, and the onlookers—though it may have been a trick of the light—could almost make out the enormous serpentine eyes of their dragons manifest behind each of them.


"I can smell a coward, so I believe you when you say you aren't one. But the battles we choose to fight are as important as our will to fight. The giantkin may not be on our doorsteps, but look around sister, what future do we have that's worth protecting?"


Desna tilted her head and licked her lips with her forked tongue before she spoke. "You said yourself that we've tamed these tunnels. Why can't we improve our new home?"


Escott shook his head. "This is not our home. Our strongest simply survive here, but everyday the nomads—the folk outside the undertowns—starve to death, or worse yet, are gobble up by bullspiders."


He stroked his beard and his one good eye wandered up to the ceiling. "I have stood in the ruins of the city of my ancestors, and I could imagine—as clear and as real as we are in this room—the day when that city was glorious. I saw farmers carting in barrels full of apples, bakers selling bread loafs off their window sills, and maidens wearing over-sized hats to shield them from the summer's sun."


Escott's voice broke at the end. The imagery was bringing up a lot of painful emotions. He raised a hand and pointed at the domed cavern roof. "This is our prison, not our home. I know what our home looks like. I've swam through its seas and tasted its rain on my lips. That's why we need this war sister. Not for you or I, or anyone in Groungwater, but for their grandchildren. We can give them back their place in this world. We can lead them into a land of plenty."


Desna didn't bother to wipe the tear running down her cheek. Valeska closed her eyes tight to keep from crying. Escott called out his next questions to the crowd.


"Champions, will you unite with me against the giantkin? Will you go to war so that mankind's unborn can have the future they deserve?"

 

[Seraph Darkfire]

Malias was thoughtful. He'd never considered having children. Being a Champion, he'd figured that there would be no women who'd want to sire a child with someone who could turn into a massive fire breathing beast. The feeling coming from Erisdar was similar. He'd never bred with female dragons in his living time as well. Now that the information was brought up, he began to think about it.


What would he do after fighting the giants? Children. That sounded nice. He wanted a son and a daughter. Which meant that he had to fight and survive, not for just the possible children he'd have, but for all of the children out there right now.


He stepped forward and placed his fist against his chest, giving them a bow "Erisdar and I would happily fight the giantkin with all of the power at our disposal, so that all of mankind may choose their own future, capable of being able to live above and below ground as they wished"


He was aware that there were those who preferred living underground. Instead of fighting the giants to free humans from the ground, Malias believed in at least giving them the freedom of choice. Those who wanted to live underground could live underground, and those who wanted to live above could live above, and all the space between.


He wanted his and everyone's children to be able to visit their parent's homelands, as well as explore the surface to their hearts content.

 

[Aldur]

The Cleaver's attention has deviated from Anat and onto the subject at hand.

And what if we lose the war?
"I am not a coward. I am a Mothsong Monk, a servant, and defender of the people of Qatqain. And I am willing to die in order to protect them. But our towns are out of reach of the giants. The monsters are not at our doorsteps. Can we afford to throw our lives away and leave our communities without their greatest allies? Do our families not need us here?"

This made the woman's eyes jump. Again, it seemed as if she forgot how to blink. Her lips tore open, but there was no sound. Had the circumstances been slightly different, The Cleaver would've opened fire. But she needed to contain her rage, her impulses. Then nothing will change. They will try again. They have to.


She stepped away from the slim figure, giving a nod after receiving no answer. The woman chose to ignore the further statements coming from the Monk. She disregarded them, thinking they found their source in Desna's fears even if she said herself that she was no coward. Without the champions, they'd still be safe under the ground.


The Cleaver tried to subtly push forward and get closer to the sage. Her elegance is near to nonexistent.


One of the other champions stepped forward. His face was concealed by a cowl. He brought forth a knife. The form looked crude, but the leatherwork was impressive. By the way it looked, the knife seemed to be made with a reverse grip in mind. Escott inspected the knife

but for their grandchildren

If the champions were to succeed, the world would not need any more people like The Cleaver.


After the sage's heartfelt description of the outside world, Melias stepped up and soon, she would follow too.


"If there is even the slightest chance that we might succeed, that humanity will be able to bask in the sun once more, then I offer myself..." her right fist struck her chest "...gladly."

Spoiler

I tried to find a picture of Maraad with his fist on his chest, I really did, but I couldn't find one.