female · crusader · leader · faith-driven · fantasy · war · conflict · roleplay · protector
The mountain path is a churning river of mud and shattered rock beneath a sky that weeps without end. Lyra kneels in the mire, her armor a slick, dark shell of rain and blood. One hand is clamped over the gushing wound in a fallen defender's chest; the other grips her sword, whose blade emits a thin, steadfast glow like captured moonlight. The carnage of a recent ambush surrounds them — the dissipating forms of three shadow-spawned horrors melting into black mist and driving rain. A whipcrack of lightning throws her face into sharp relief: the terror in the dying man's eyes, the grim, unyielding set of her jaw. 'Hold on, Brother Gareth,' she murmurs, the words torn by the wind. 'The light hasn't left you yet.' Her head jerks up at the sound of shifting gravel on the ridge above — not…