((Mood music is always good no?))
What if?..... Erik never left the Shroud.
The summer sun shone down its rays upon the East Shroud. High to the north, on the road from Hawthrone Hut to the Sanctum of the Twelve walked a man. A great highlander of a man, his hair tied back, his robes simple, an emblem of three spears over his right breast. As he approached the settlement several of the children playing near the gate run to meet him. He was a simple but well loved man. As he patted the children on the head he entered the gate to Hawthorne, "Good morning Father." spoke the guard. Erik smiled and nodded to the young man, "And to you."
He made his way to the settlement's junkmonger, the Sanctum needed flour, wax, salt, and nameless other things. In fact he would need a wagon he was sure, the porter would help he was sure. He had been a fixture at the Sanctum for the better part of seventeen years now, there were few in Hawthorne that had not been blessed by the Priest of Halone at least once. His life had started so chaotic in the beginning, his and his mother's flight from Ala Mhigo, only to have her killed three years after. His friend Cian had tried to talk him into going to Ul'dah with him after that, but he selected a different path, the Coerthas, the Path of the Fury. He sometimes felt as though something of this peaceful and perfect life was off. Times like these.
"Father!" yelled a woman, Jenna he seemed to remember. "What is it?" She caught her breath, "Have you..... have you heard?" Erik placed his hand on her shoulder, "Heard what?" The woman looked at him and shouted out, "Ul'dah! There are reports.... There was an explosion!" Erik looked down to pray, "This now again. When will these attacks end?" Some others gathered to hear and add to the conversation. Erik lead them all in prayer then returned to his task. It was unfortunate, there had been many attacks on the Jewel of the Desert of late.
As he approached the porter, the store hand helping him carry his purchases . A few minutes he was on the road. As he road he saw out the corner of his eye a woman, a Miqo'te, her hair was short and black as a raven. Her lance of a quality found in the hands of a craftsman. She seemed tired, hurt, and running from something. He slowed the wagon and called to her, "You there, girl. Do you need help?" She looked at him, fright is what he saw, and a strange collar. She almost bolted until he raised his hand, "Come now, let me at least help you where you are trying to go. I swear by the Twelve I am no enemy to you." She almost spoke, stopping as her hands grasped the collar, was that frustration? Slowly she relented and climbed into the back of the wagon. "I notice you do not seem to speak. How will we handle such a problem?" He thought on it a moment until replying, "I will take you to the Sanctum as you seem in need of sanctuary. From there you can make your way to where you need to go. Many travel there from as many places, surly one will be heading your way." She seemed to except this.... poor girl.
As the Sanctum rose in the distance he knew his trip to be over... what is that feeling? In the distance he hears something, something odd. He snaps the reins, quickening the bird's steps. As they moved toward the great temple, from above the road from a ledge, a runt of a Miqo'te leaps in front of the wagon striking the chocobo pulling it dead. The spear girl hops from the wagon, her lance steady as Erik steps down, "Who are you?" he asked the runt. The miqo'te noticed the priest ever so slightly, "I am sorry, killing your bird... so rude. I am sorry.... may I have that back Father?" he said pointing to the girl. Erik ignore's the steady lance, taking note of the girl's eyes, the fear. He wasn't sure why he stepped in front of her, not that it would do her any good. The runt noticed this, "Now you are the one being rude." he said as he raised his gunblade. Erik was not afraid, he had seen these weapons before, his faith told him he was safe. That faith was proven by the sound of an arrow. The high whistle as it screamed toward the runt. There to the right, fast approaching, more miqo'te. The runt was going to fight them all, poor boy. They clashed before him. As they fought the seemingly unstoppable runt he supported where he could, curing the girl and her friends here and there, "Life's refreshing breeze, blow in energy! Cure!" Though it was touch and go, the runt finally relented, disappearing into the forest. The group now circled the girl, there were smiles on their faces, a family? A clan maybe?. They said nothing as they left, only the girl stopped for a moment, looking back and waving, a smile on her face. Then like the others, she was gone.
He managed to get the wagon to the Sanctum, telling his brothers and sisters of his experience. They all listened as he spun the yarn of the strong little runt, the clan. Such a tale, he wondered why though. Why did he feel as though he was missing something. He shook his head, shaking the idea from his head. He sometimes felt as though something of this peaceful and perfect life was off. Times like these. He was sometimes right.
![[Image: Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5YSh8yMniHU/VlLStr_7SSI/AAAAAAAAIQ4/qLoOmtz-Jdg/s100-Ic42/Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png)
