The Human Cost [Open]

In all the war and chaos of the world, raged between some of the strongest entities in existence, people often forgot of the human element. That on the world of earth, clawing to survive in the chaos was humans. They where the frontline in this war for their world, bravely throwing their lives into the inferno to secure but what was their world by right. And in Vastime, the foremost human nation currently acting in the war, they would take this time to acknowledge the human cost to it all.

So a military parade was thrown, to celebrate the trials they have endured and overcome. Their homeland was secured and they had made strong moves against shadowfall, and in doing this parade they where overcoming the grief they felt in the lost of life. The names of the fallen where inscribed so far upon a large pillar of granite, displayed in front of the palace for all to see. Their was a somber mood to the nation today, a national holiday of mourning was declared for the time being. But for those soldiers who had been relieved off the frontline where having their own struggles.

The human cost was high currently.

But somewhere else, another man was among those returning to a somber nation. Atlas D'al Decter had been removed from the frontline, placed on temporary home command while his injuries was tended to. The currently highest ranked military official in the nation, save for the king himself, was forced off the line. This was primarily due to missing his arm from the french invasion, but he protested heavily against removing him. None the less, he was without command currently.

This, for the first real time in his life, angered the man. It actually infuriated him to a point where he feared if he was to remain in private any longer he would lash out. Such was the decision to actually venture onto the somber capital, wearing his uniform the only modification currently was the long sleeve was folded and pinned towards the elbow. This hid the graphic wound of his arm, along with showcasing he only had his elbow and above.

The general had settled for a bar which some soldiers frequented, and as he entered he took note the just how quiet it was. As his eyes gazed around upon taking a seat, he could see some men drinking alone with a forlorn look upon their faces. Other groups drinking with empty seats. It did not take long for him to realize almost everyone in here had lost someone, or something, to the war so far.

His elbow seemed to ache dully, as he ordered a whisky. He was but another maim'd soldier, among many. If they recognized the general, they afforded him the luxury of privacy.




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