"Ha! Pay up! You don't survive on the Bloodsands as long as I have without a grotesque amount of luck! Now, where was I..."
Tyonis stood atop an ever-growing pile of corpses. Like a deranged animal, he howled at the red moon; the thrill of battle coursed through his veins like a drug. Eyes gleaming, Tyonis cut another bloody swathe through the Garlean ranks. But the bullet of a gunblade abruptly ended his berzerking rampage, bringing his senses to the forefront.
Stunned, Tyonis clutched his face as the slug ricocheted off his helm. He tore it off his head with a curse and hurled it at the offending Garlean. As he raised his gunblade to block, Tyonis drove his own sword through the man’s chest. He charged through and impaled another Garlean behind him. The Mongrel growled in satisfaction and savagely kicked the two corpses off his fang.
A band of Grand Company soldiers, their banners mixed and obscured with blood, rushed in through the gap in the Garlean ranks. Their immediate presence gave Tyonis a small respite to scan the battlefield and catch his breath.
“Dead even,†Tyonis hissed. The remainder of the VIIth Legion fought hard and Tyonis had to give hisenemies the credit they deserved. Despite the combined efforts of the Grand Companies, a bloody deadlock was all they could manage. But eventually the Legion’s resources would run out; in a war of attrition, the forces of Eorzea would triumph. Tyonis allowed himself a grim smile.
Then, the world exploded.
Tyonis sailed through the air like a ragdoll and landed hard against a rocky outcropping. His vision swam but he fought back the bile rising in his throat. Slowly, he rose to a weak stand, his sword reduced to a mere cane. Off in the distance, a giant tower fell, scattering friend and foe. A red glow illuminated the battlefield, drawing his gaze to the sky.
Dalamud hug over him, like the sun in the night.
Tyonis danced with death. For most of his life, he played an excitingly cruel game with Thal. And they both enjoyed it. He savored the taste of death on his tongue; the feel of life he cut it away with his sword.
But this was no game. There were no odds to be fought. No pain or pleasure to be had.
Tyonis was a Mongrel, a vicious animal born from bloodshed. But like all animals, he could sense a superior, insurmountable predator. He took a step back. He quickly found himself sprinting away from that hellish, red glare.
Many soldiers begun to flee, their morale shattered. A chocobo rider bearing a flag he could not discern bellowed orders, whipping those that dared to retreat without warrant. For a moment, he admired the rider’s tenacity then quickly relabeled it as idiocy.
If the rider wanted to die so badly, Tyonis would happily oblige. But the Mongrel needed that mount.
As Tyonis closed the distance, he swept up a discarded lance and hurled it at the rider. It ripped the man off his chocobo, killing him instantly. The bird reared but Tyonis caught the reins and pulled it down. He threw himself over its back and whipped it into a maddened gallop.
Fire erupted around him as Dalamud shattered, but Tyonis ignored the ensuing chaos; he poured all of his focus into steering his mount through the danger. A monstrous roar echoed behind him - no, to call it a roar would be to imply it came from the vibration of a being’s vocal cords. It was more like a shockwave of sound that threatened to shatter every bone in his body. Tyonis spared a single glance over his shoulder and immediately whipped his head back to the cataclysm before him - without a doubt, Bahamut was death incarnate.
Instinctively, he knew he could not escape the dragon's wrath, even at the chocobo’s frantic pace. His eyes scanned the approaching landscape and spotted a cave. Without thinking, Tyonis veered his mount into the tunnel and followed it down. Even this far away, he could feel the Aether burn around him. His death inched ever closer, like a pair of flaming hands slowly coiling around his throat.
The ground shattered beneath his mount. Tyonis heard the snapping of bone, and cried out. He felt no pain, but knew that the chocobo had been lamed. And with it crippled, his slim hope for survival vanished. He landed in a roll and cursed the dying chocobo.
“Kweh… Kweh…†It stared at him, painfully, gasping for air.As his skin began to burn, Tyonis drew his dagger. He sat next to the bird and stroked its head before driving his knife through the back of its skull, killing it instantly. The Mongrel reclined on his makeshift bed-rest, eyes closed and head tilted back, resigned to his fate.
The cave began to glow red with heat. Steam filled the tunnel. It became hard to breathe, so Tyonis tore off his chainmail. He threw his knife away and replaced it with a flask, drinking generously and raising it in a silent toast to these last few flickers of his life. The life he led could not be considered good by the lengthiest stretch of imagination; but it was not entirely bad.
"It was a life worth dying for." He concludes with a grin, liquor trailing down his cheek.
The cave collapsed around him, unable to bear the extreme change in heat and pressure. Tyonis slowly opened his eyes; finally ready to meet his death. To his chagrin, an underground river rushed to fill the tunnel and washed the screaming Mongrel away…
“Looking back, I always bet on the river. I just didn't expect an actual river, that time.â€
