What in the bloody hells was that?
Heat. Smoke. Ringing ears. Blackened vision.
Can't breathe.
His hands had gone up reflexively as soon as he hit the ground but people were still going to die.
No.
The lattice had spread swiftly but debris had still fallen through. A man was crushed, reaching, calling for anyone and anything. Sanctuary. Mother. Rhalgr. Anyone. He couldn't even think of a quip about the Twelve, barely remembered Mortar's usual reminder that his blasphemy was getting him killed. It smelled like singed flesh, the shield couldn't save them from all the heat. The roof was on top of it, held aloft by the sheer pressure of aether alone and Mikh'a grunted in concentration. Shas and Crofte had hit the ground, some of Scythe's men had been spared the painful death but it was a double edged sword. They couldn't get around the shield and it was just a sickening reminder of something A'laric had said to him a long time ago.
“Move!â€
Shas lifted her head first. They hadn't been spared injury, just a roof.
“MOVE IT!â€
She looked confused and Mikh'a started to shift and try to get to his feet, kicking at a stray piece of beam that had fallen, splintered, and half landed on his leg. He was lucky it wasn't broken. The shield wavered the instant he got to his feet. Someone slammed in to the shield and he bit back the urge to cry out. “The Dreadnaught must have been rigged, it was a trap!†Eorzea's gods be damned, Nero had set them up. The thug's face was half burned off by ceruleum and it was eating through flesh and bone. He clawed at the shield and Mikh'a had to force himself to look away. Crofte was finally getting up, coughing and groaning and Shas hooked her arm under the redheaded woman's armpits to drag her away as the shield flickered and seconds later the debris it held aloft near crashed down on their heads. It was all the concentration he had to pick it strengthen it as Shas and Coatleque reflexively ducked in preparation for the coming blow.
One of their hands shot out and snagged him by the scruff. “You can't save everyone.†someone said and yanked him back as the aether shield buckled. The instant his concentration was lost and he was pulled backwards Mikh'a's shield was gone and the front of the building, no longer held aloft, crashed down on bodies that had been trying to get to safety within. They weren't far enough out of the red zone not to get the backlash of debris as it hit the ground and Mikh'a rolled on to his side after being tossed rather unceremoniously to the side by Crofte to avoid more damage. The dust was only starting to thin and he coughed as he sat up. “What happened..?†he heard.
“It looks like--†he coughed. “Like the Dreadnaught exploded. It-- it had to have been rigged that way. T-to explode.†More coughing and he pulled his tattered shirt sleeve over his mouth and nose. “Ceruleum. Toxic. Breathe as little as possible. Get moving, get out of here. We'll heal later, we have to keep moving.†The adrenaline would keep them moving.
Someone grabbed his arm, Crofte again. She was dragging him to his feet and pulling him backwards, half dragging him, half guiding him to his feet. Shas was leading the way, past destroyed homes and flaming debris as the three of them staggered toward safe air and freedom. There were still people trapped inside but they were already dead. You can't save everyone.
Heat. Smoke. Ringing ears. Blackened vision.
Can't breathe.
His hands had gone up reflexively as soon as he hit the ground but people were still going to die.
No.
The lattice had spread swiftly but debris had still fallen through. A man was crushed, reaching, calling for anyone and anything. Sanctuary. Mother. Rhalgr. Anyone. He couldn't even think of a quip about the Twelve, barely remembered Mortar's usual reminder that his blasphemy was getting him killed. It smelled like singed flesh, the shield couldn't save them from all the heat. The roof was on top of it, held aloft by the sheer pressure of aether alone and Mikh'a grunted in concentration. Shas and Crofte had hit the ground, some of Scythe's men had been spared the painful death but it was a double edged sword. They couldn't get around the shield and it was just a sickening reminder of something A'laric had said to him a long time ago.
“Move!â€
Shas lifted her head first. They hadn't been spared injury, just a roof.
“MOVE IT!â€
She looked confused and Mikh'a started to shift and try to get to his feet, kicking at a stray piece of beam that had fallen, splintered, and half landed on his leg. He was lucky it wasn't broken. The shield wavered the instant he got to his feet. Someone slammed in to the shield and he bit back the urge to cry out. “The Dreadnaught must have been rigged, it was a trap!†Eorzea's gods be damned, Nero had set them up. The thug's face was half burned off by ceruleum and it was eating through flesh and bone. He clawed at the shield and Mikh'a had to force himself to look away. Crofte was finally getting up, coughing and groaning and Shas hooked her arm under the redheaded woman's armpits to drag her away as the shield flickered and seconds later the debris it held aloft near crashed down on their heads. It was all the concentration he had to pick it strengthen it as Shas and Coatleque reflexively ducked in preparation for the coming blow.
One of their hands shot out and snagged him by the scruff. “You can't save everyone.†someone said and yanked him back as the aether shield buckled. The instant his concentration was lost and he was pulled backwards Mikh'a's shield was gone and the front of the building, no longer held aloft, crashed down on bodies that had been trying to get to safety within. They weren't far enough out of the red zone not to get the backlash of debris as it hit the ground and Mikh'a rolled on to his side after being tossed rather unceremoniously to the side by Crofte to avoid more damage. The dust was only starting to thin and he coughed as he sat up. “What happened..?†he heard.
“It looks like--†he coughed. “Like the Dreadnaught exploded. It-- it had to have been rigged that way. T-to explode.†More coughing and he pulled his tattered shirt sleeve over his mouth and nose. “Ceruleum. Toxic. Breathe as little as possible. Get moving, get out of here. We'll heal later, we have to keep moving.†The adrenaline would keep them moving.
Someone grabbed his arm, Crofte again. She was dragging him to his feet and pulling him backwards, half dragging him, half guiding him to his feet. Shas was leading the way, past destroyed homes and flaming debris as the three of them staggered toward safe air and freedom. There were still people trapped inside but they were already dead. You can't save everyone.
