[Flashback]Little Pinned Toy Soldier.

[Wystern]

Time Stamp: after 53rd of Summer 510 AV.

"What day is it? How long was I out? Is anyone here? Ah damn it!" Wystern screamed and the pain started again, shortly after his awakening. No one was there, except for his horse behind him, and it was definitely dead. He looked down and saw his katana, sticking out of his gut, more on the left side, what an uplifting image. Speaking of lifting up, he remembered what happened. He was flung around for a bit, then a lot of sharp pain that he never felt before, then the darkness took over and he was gone, went into shock. Everything just went black.

He tried to assess the situation, how could everything have gone so, so wrong? What is wrong? No, what is right? The first thing he had to was check his body condition. He started by trying to move his arms, no bones broken, but they felt loose...dislocated, fantastic. His left shoulder was dislocated, but at least no bones broken there. His fingers moved, and it hurt to move them, but he could not move his left shoulder effectively at all. He tried to swing his right arm, attempting to get the elbow back in place, but his sword tore into his gut more. He looked at his sword and smiled, in a very awkward way, maybe feeling delusional. His weapon impaled him, but still didn't kill him, maybe it refused to? He marveled at the craftsmanship, the thing just survived a storm, went through armor and was still perfectly straight, sharp and true on that end, still in the condition he left it in.

The sword sealed the wound on both ends and didn't let him bleed out. When he passed out, his blood pressure must have dropped. That was the only explanation for him being alive. Now, this is where his fears may come alive. Move. The. Legs. The second he tried he felt nothing at first and then a pain hit him that made his heart race out of control, he gasped, grinned his teeth, and almost fainted again. "Calm down," he said to himself, feeling his shirt getting warmer again, and then he felt chills once more when a breeze flew by. He could swear that the vultures were looking down on him. The chain mail felt heavy, and it was getting so hot too.

An hour went by, his mind racing, but couldn't really find a viable solution. His thirst was nearly unbearable. On his belt there still was a water skin, unfortunately, to get to it would mean to lift his arms, with the blasted chainmail on. As much as it pained him, he felt on the verge of death for as long as he was conscious, so there's really nothing left to lose anymore. Almost nothing. Slowly, he moved his left arm, sending striking pain in his shoulder and untied the skin from his waist. Something so simple took about five minutes, that felt like a lifetime. If he doesn't get any water soon, he would die, if he would pass out from another shock, he would die. This situation was very much one of a kind.

He finally had the skin in his hand, too bad he couldn't lift it, so he tried to pass it to the right, under the sword, without moving his torso. The sun burned, Wys was starting to get impatient, just wanting a few gulps, but just didn't have the strength. Finally, the skin was in his right hand, he flicked the top off, and very carefully forced his elbow to bring it to his mouth. Something went right for a change, and the ever so sweet water filled his mouth. He gulped down, nearly chocking to death, as if the current predicament wasn't enough, and chuckled, but immediately stopped because of the sword in his stomach.

So he set there, delirious, with a slightly offset smile, talking to himself, his horse, and even his sword, and sometimes the sun that was getting him too out of his mind to actually grasp down the situation.

"Oh, you are beautiful, yes, you are. No I'm not just flattering you, it's the simple truth. Oh, just look at how beautiful you are, so shiny and a little crimson,heh heh, ouch..." he mumbled, looking down. "I will call you... Ararna..."

[Wystern]

"I will call you... Ararna...Yes, it's a nice name for a girl like you, ow, this hurts so much," Wys mumbled, staring at the hilt, wanting to stroke the threads on it. "Why did you turn on me, Ararna? Have I wronged you? Have I not cared for you as if you were my whole world?" he blabbered, a little disconnected with reality. There were buzzards circling around him, but he couldn't really see, his vision was slowly fading, he couldn't really see that far anymore, it was all just unintelligible mix of white, blue, green, and ugly crimson.

What was keeping him here? Why is he so happy? He wanted to laugh, but it hurt so much to laugh that he just chuckled slightly, having no idea why he was feeling numb. The pain was so much to bear that he just couldn't feel it anymore. Or just about anything else for that matter. It's like something terrible is about to end and something wonderful is about to begin. Wystern was just sliding in and out of rational state of mind, long enough to understand that he is in pain, not long to do anything, not that he actually could, and especially not long enough to realize that he was dying, he was just happy to be all alone with Ararna, under the sky, in the middle of nowhere, nobody in sight. Just this shiny little thing that he felt so attached to. Its handle so soft, its lustrous gaze made him feel so warm.

"Having you around, so close, it feels like family...family..." He said, striking the last word harder. The F, word, the word he never used... Sunberth... Wystern grimaced, his expression puzzled, as if his face couldn't decide between happiness or sadness, and it just stuck there for a few minutes. Combination of a painful keyword and the temperature going down from the sunset slowly brought Wys back to his senses. And then it finally dawned on him, his training finally kicking into gear, though no amount of emotional training could prepare a person for this.

He was better off when he was high off pain-suppressing hormones. Now he was broken, defeated, and hopeless. His options were coming clear, pull out the sword and die now, or don't pull out Ararna and die later by bleeding out anyway....did he just call his katana by a name? How long was he delirious? It felt like he was just completely out of it for maybe ten hours. How long was he here? Maybe a day or two, no more, not with that thing sticking out of him, that lustrous thing. The Knight had a grasp on reality, but he was slowly going crazy.

The imminent presence of death was playing tricks on his mind, but he couldn't do anything about it. He was sitting here, still as a rock, unable and unwilling to move, and death was coming to claim him. He felt Dira coming to claim him. She claimed everyone at one time or another, nothing could escape her. Perhaps this would be a liberation, it felt like it, but Crow couldn't accept it, not yet, just too soon. She could have as much of him as she wanted in, say, forty or fifty years, but right now he just couldn't leave.

He wanted to cry, but no tears would come, too dehydrated. The weight of the chainmail became heavier and heavier with each passing moment. From about sixty feet away he heard stomping, some clicks, and something sniffing the air, very, very loudly. Wystern realized it was something big, and definitely carnivorous, and it picked up the scent of blood, but he just couldn't see it. All noises stopped, the animals scared of something. Wys couldn't see it, but it could definitely smell him. A large, near translucent beak poked through the grass about forty feet away, and with it were two beady, blood red eyes.

Wystern closed his eyes, prayed for a few seconds, honestly thanking the gods for getting him thus far, and forced his elbow too move and grasp Ararna's handle. There was one last fight left in this Knight, and it may kill him, but whatever that thing was, he was taking it to the afterlife by his side. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, felt the striking pain in his arm, and pulled.

[Sabazios]

Wystern was slipping in and out of reality. The sun was burning into his mind, the pain left him babbling and useless. His legs were completely shattered, his blade was sticking into his side, unless he was helped very soon he would fade into the arms of death. Memories of his past flew through the mind's eye of the knight. His true vision was fading into darkness. He remembered events both painful and joyful. Visions swept through his mind, visions of pain and of torment. His memories began to mix with these hallucinations becoming one in his tortured mind. It was in this state that Inaril Frostwind and her unit of Tahvehk came upon the knight. They quickly decided that Wystern was no threat, and they discussed whether or not to end his life. He had little to no chance of survival with wounds like this. However upon this day compassion won over mercy. His life may be painful from now on, but at least he would have it. So Inaril ordered two of her men to strap him up, and to bind his wounds. They would bring him to the city of Endrykas. When Wystern woke all he could see was the white of a tent roof... he was strapped to a low table covered in thick furs.

[Wystern]

The Knight woke up from the pain of doing something dumb: moving his legs. He grunted, and wanted to slap himself for trying that again, but he couldn't move. Oh, that's right dislocations...and leather straps. He just realized that the sun was gone, the chainmail wasn't there, and Ara...the sword wasn't in him anymore. Where was Ararna, where was he? Endrykas? Was it the Drykas that picked him up?


Wys was in cleaner clothes than he arrived. His arms were still messed up. Or maybe it was the leather. No time, no patience, someone knew where he was, or by the gods he will break himself again by escaping captivity. He noticed something gleaming by the table's side. Ararna. Wystern sighed with relief, and a smile ran across his face. At least he still possessed her, but he was still bound.

"Hello! Anyone there?! I need some water!" Wystern shouted, trying to get some attention. Maybe it was a bit too much to already be demanding something, but the way he was, it couldn't wait.

[Sabazios]

As Wystern shouted a woman stepped into the tent. Inaril had stationed herself directly outside of the healing pavilion, and she now walked over to the man. She was beautiful, her strawberry blond hair fell on her shoulders gracefully, and she held herself with grace. However any man that knew her would not talk of her beauty first, she was a warrior of the first degree and cold as the winter breeze. Inaril showed this trait in her speech, she spoke without compassion and ignored the man's pleas for water. They had forced water into him as he slept, and while he may not feel satisfied he would not take harm from waiting longer for more. "Be still, the healer will be back presently." Here she stopped to watch his reaction. "What is your name, and who is Ararna? You have been calling for her." It was at this point that the healer walked back in. This woman was slightly shorter than Inaril, and was thin as a willow wisp. She walked into the room boldly and sat down on a chair next to Wystern. Hello I'm Ahna Morningsun, I am the healer who was assigned to you, and I need to ask you a few questions now that your awake. I want a full report as to what you feel like. Give me a pain level for each wound as well, remember you're not a hero. Give me the honest truth."

[Wystern]

Wys tried to bow, respect for women and manners still in him, even after what happened. Unfortunately, he was tied down and it looked like an angry twitch, but he was also in pain, so it was understandable. He sighed, and juggled his brain for what he was, his mind still sore from the delirium. The warrior girl wants identification? It's the least he owes them so far.

"My name is Wystern Solus, my title is Knight of Syliras, Fifth Wing, Black Company, Fourth Regiment, Gold Quadron. Identification is on the back of my neck. Ararna is the name of my sword.That weapon is dear to me and is one of a kind," he said before a pause. Wys frowned, sighed, and decided to as the question he already knew the answer to. "Is my Tiaden dead?" The he turned and smiled at the healer.

"Hello Ahna. I think I have a through-and-through wound from my blade, which doesn't hurt too much as long as a lay still. I can't move my elbows well, or my left shoulder, it's just very uncomfortable. Now my legs, my legs are killing me at this moment. And sadly, I will not have them amputated," he said warmly to the healer. It seemed like they would spend a lot of time together.

[Sabazios]

Inaril looked at the man with surprise, she had not expected one of the knights of Syliras to make a stupid decision in a storm. But then again there aren't many dangers like a great storm in Cyphrus. Some may have given more of a reaction to his rank, but Inaril only nodded her head in his direction in a gesture of recognition. "We saw no horse, but from your current condition and the power of the storm that swept through. I would say that your horse has been long dead." She stated this with a matter of fact tone that dared Wystern to make a single comment. Inaril was not one to banter aimlessly with paitients. Ahna listened carefully and acutely as the knight began to explain where he felt injured. Most of what he told her was painfully obvious, but every once in a while she gleaned information in this manner so it was always a good idea to try. "No, of course we shall not amputate them. It took me all night to keep them from infecting and to set them. They were broken into many many pieces, I'm not sure if they will heal at all. However I will do everything in my power to give them the best possibility of recovery."

[Wystern]

"I understand. Thank you," Wystern said with a frown appearing on his face. He needed a horse to get back from Syliras. Assuming he can walk again. The upside is that they can't tell him his parents are dead. As dark as that joke was, it made him want to chuckle a little bit. But when they said he wouldn't walk again, a smile started spreading on his face. Challenge accepted, let us see what will be tougher, the recovery or the training he went through.

"Thank you too, Ahna," Wys said calmly, a tint of sorrow hinting the voice. Wystern wasn't some spoiled and well-trained mercenary, he just had to show it. Recovery, multiple muscle atrophy. He should have his shoulders fixed soon, he could train the upper body so it won't go numb, but the muscles on his legs are doomed. Not doomed, but more like going to be really sore when he comes back, and if he comes back. For now here was more of a pressing matter, the straps still held him to the bed. "Now, can someone please take the belts off me?"

[Sabazios]

Inaril watched the man closely after she had told him of his horses death. She shook her head in disbelief as he started to smile, and whispered in the ear of the healer "I'm beginning to think he's at least half mad". Ahna merely nodded in solemn agreement... For the next few weeks Ahna worked furiously, she bathed his wounds, and took care of him as only a masterful healer could. His cuts and bruises were starting to heal and Ahnahad taken the straps off his legs. She said that they needed to be left in the open air. Today was the day of reckoning, the leg splints had been on for two weeks. She wanted to try to get Wystern to walk, even if he was still in the splint. So she came to him and told him to rest slightly on the good leg. "Come Wystern, stand very slowly... we don't want to wreck the work that has been done."

[Wystern]

Wys grabbed the edges of the bed with a steely grip and slowly started descending his feet towards the ground. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck in anticipation of pain; Wystern’s beard started to glisten a little, the one he grew from being bedridden for weeks. His toes were dangling inches from the floor, and Wys could not stand to look at his right leg, no pun intended. He lost a few pounds, both fat and muscle. Mostly muscle because he didn't get any exercise for a while and the network on his legs was beginning to lose shape. His arms and upper body, on the other hand, weren't that difficult to train while bedridden, most of it was just repetition on polishing Ararna.

"Baby steps," Wys breathed nervously to himself with his toes dangling a few inches from the floor and slowly coming down. The man glanced at Ahna, and immediately looked away. Her worried expression didn't help to calm him down. A few seconds have passed and the moment of reckoning is coming quickly.

His toes felt the carpet and Wys dropped down the short distance, his left leg barely taking the strain. Wys gritted his teeth and gripped the bed until his knuckles turned white. A surprised look appeared on his face and then a smile. No pain. Some slightly atrophied muscles, but no pain as he expected it. "Well, how about that that?" he told the healer, right before losing what footing he had and hitting the floor with his shoulder.