The Forte has been lost.
That was the message Nero had received, and even as he traversed the mild climate of La Noscea, the sinking feeling in his gut had not receded. The Hyur was still dressed in the traditional featureless black robes of an Ossuary acolyte; he knew he would return to Vylbrand one day, but he did not expect to be returning so soon, and certainly not because his father's ship had vanished. The Midlander occasionally glanced up from beneath his hood; the blood red eye of Dalamud was certainly not a good omen and did not do anything to raise Nero's spirits, and no one in Eorzea, and certainly not the young thaumaturge, was expecting the cataclysm that followed.
First came the tremors. It was unusual enough for there to be quakes that could be felt in Vylbrand, but where there were quakes, there were waves. These were not ordinary upheavals, however; aetheric energy in a myriad spectrum of colours erupted violently from the cracks in the earth. The Hyur was rocked nearly off of his feet. "Gods damn...!" came the curse, as he struggled to maintain his balance. He withdrew from within the folds of his robes a copper sceptre and attempted to form something of a barrier to shield himself, but as soon as the Hyur's mind tried to focus on the gathering of aether, the sceptre fractured before fragmenting and falling apart like shards of glass, utterly destroyed by the feedback.
Then came the flames. Nero did his utmost to keep his calm, but a deep well of fear began to replace the lump that had occupied his stomach. Dalamud was nothing more than a fiery nebula in the sky, one that had begun to sent blazing plumes rocketing towards every corner of Eorzea.
Nero's thoughts vanished, and what remained were the animalistic instincts of self preservation. Inwardly he cursed at the clumsy footwear he had donned; they were made for browsing libraries or traversing cobbled steps, not running furiously on rough dirt paths. As the flares began to impact, the shockwaves whipped the Hyur's robes all around him. Shelter was the only thought crossing his mind. He knew not if he could survive this, but that would not stop him from trying.
It was during his fearful retreat that Nero spotted her: a young Miqo'te girl, who could not have been older than thirteen or fourteen years, cowering behind the trunk of a tree. Another poor soul caught off guard by the explosive catastrophe. Dirt had begun to mat around her lavender hair as her arms struggled to shield her head from the debris and the wind
Protective instincts overrode the impulses of self-preservation as he ran his way to the Miqo'te, kneeling down as Nero gripped her by the shoulders. "Stand up!" He found he had to shout over the din of explosions impacting with the sea and the cliffs of La Noscea. "Stand up! Escape!" There was no way to tell if she could hear his--commands or pleas, he knew not--over her own terror or the conflagrations, but that wasn't about to stop Nero from trying.
That was the message Nero had received, and even as he traversed the mild climate of La Noscea, the sinking feeling in his gut had not receded. The Hyur was still dressed in the traditional featureless black robes of an Ossuary acolyte; he knew he would return to Vylbrand one day, but he did not expect to be returning so soon, and certainly not because his father's ship had vanished. The Midlander occasionally glanced up from beneath his hood; the blood red eye of Dalamud was certainly not a good omen and did not do anything to raise Nero's spirits, and no one in Eorzea, and certainly not the young thaumaturge, was expecting the cataclysm that followed.
First came the tremors. It was unusual enough for there to be quakes that could be felt in Vylbrand, but where there were quakes, there were waves. These were not ordinary upheavals, however; aetheric energy in a myriad spectrum of colours erupted violently from the cracks in the earth. The Hyur was rocked nearly off of his feet. "Gods damn...!" came the curse, as he struggled to maintain his balance. He withdrew from within the folds of his robes a copper sceptre and attempted to form something of a barrier to shield himself, but as soon as the Hyur's mind tried to focus on the gathering of aether, the sceptre fractured before fragmenting and falling apart like shards of glass, utterly destroyed by the feedback.
Then came the flames. Nero did his utmost to keep his calm, but a deep well of fear began to replace the lump that had occupied his stomach. Dalamud was nothing more than a fiery nebula in the sky, one that had begun to sent blazing plumes rocketing towards every corner of Eorzea.
Nero's thoughts vanished, and what remained were the animalistic instincts of self preservation. Inwardly he cursed at the clumsy footwear he had donned; they were made for browsing libraries or traversing cobbled steps, not running furiously on rough dirt paths. As the flares began to impact, the shockwaves whipped the Hyur's robes all around him. Shelter was the only thought crossing his mind. He knew not if he could survive this, but that would not stop him from trying.
It was during his fearful retreat that Nero spotted her: a young Miqo'te girl, who could not have been older than thirteen or fourteen years, cowering behind the trunk of a tree. Another poor soul caught off guard by the explosive catastrophe. Dirt had begun to mat around her lavender hair as her arms struggled to shield her head from the debris and the wind
Protective instincts overrode the impulses of self-preservation as he ran his way to the Miqo'te, kneeling down as Nero gripped her by the shoulders. "Stand up!" He found he had to shout over the din of explosions impacting with the sea and the cliffs of La Noscea. "Stand up! Escape!" There was no way to tell if she could hear his--commands or pleas, he knew not--over her own terror or the conflagrations, but that wasn't about to stop Nero from trying.
