The Wasteland

Chapter One: The Beginning

Dearest Fae,

Gunpowder, fire, and death. These three scents have become ingrained in my senses, forever imprinted upon my memory. My burn scars are not too fond of the enemy's new 'Fire Throwers'. I guess no matter how far I run from my past, I can't quite run from my scars. I miss your laugh at that line. I can still hear your laughter echoing in my mind, finding solace in the shared moments of joy we once had. Please, do not burden yourself with excessive worry about my well-being. You know me well enough to understand that I am relentless, ceaselessly persevering through the trials that come my way. Alas, we have lost some brave warriors along the way, their spirits succumbing to exhaustion. I made sure they reached home safely, ensuring their well-being. I can't help but pray that G.A.S.T. emerges victorious. Can you recall the full form of G.A.S.T? It stands for the 'Guild Against Suppression and Tyranny'. The idea still sounds like a dream. It's almost unbelievable that other states have been liberated while we're still fighting for ours. If only they could stand with us in our fight. We made it through the treacherous and hellish swamp of 'Misty Gardens', all thanks to the steadfastness of the evangelical state 'Sanctus'. However, Misty Gardens refuses to acknowledge our rightful freedom. At every corner, FANG agents lie in wait, mercilessly claiming the lives of our brave soldiers. Shockingly, we have discovered that these agents are under the command of the notorious 'Great King' ruling this land. Today, we engage in a monumental clash with FANG on the fringes of Misty Gardens' enchanting city, 'Ophelia', nestled amidst a breathtaking meadow of vibrant flowers. Against all odds, I remain steadfast in my belief that victory shall be ours. Farewell, my dearest, may my memory remain etched in your heart.

Yours cosmically, Moonshot.

As the ink-soaked parchment is carefully rolled up, it is delicately fastened to a graceful dove, bewitched to carry the message. With a gentle flutter of its wings, the enchanted bird takes flight, leaving the solitary elven writer standing tall in his tent, towering at an impressive height of 6'1". Clad in armor reminiscent of the noble Yoroi tradition, he exudes an air of strength and elegance. A slender tachi sword rests securely at his side, completing his formidable ensemble. He emerges from his tent with a soft exhale, venturing into the atmosphere burdened with ash. The once lively grass beneath his feet now rests charred and teetering on the edge of demise. His goat eyes, like shimmering gold, sparkle with delight as he catches sight of a bustling campfire nearby. Moonshot fixates his gaze on the dancing flames, feeling a twinge of pain from the burn scars that adorn the right side of his face and body as he draws closer to the warmth of the fire.

A dwarf sitting by the campfire catches Moonshot's attention with a beckoning gesture. The fire's dance reflects off the dwarves' bronze-colored armor, creating a captivating spectacle. Moonshot recognizes the dwarf as Arthur Gastin, a skilled blacksmith and mighty warrior. "Arthur? Why are you still wide awake, my friend? Weren't you always the type to hit the hay early and rise with the sun?" Moonshot inquires, approaching the dwarf with curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

"Sleep eludes me, plagued by an overwhelming sense of paranoia." The dwarvish man, with a voice as deep as the earth's core, responds curtly.

"What troubles you, my friend? Rest assured, our adversaries lack the audacity to strike at this moment. They bide their time, cunningly disguising their intentions under the veil of honor." Moonshot's lips curl into a sneer as his gaze fixates on the medical tent, contemplating the pain within.

"FANG's audacity knows no bounds, Moon. These 'Fire Throwers' they possess are nothing short of diabolical," Arthur utters, his words dripping with caution and deliberation.

"Allow them to forge their arsenal, for it holds no power over me," Moonshot chuckles heartily, his laughter echoing with unwavering confidence.

Arthur chuckles, his laughter echoing through the air. "Moon, I can't help but be amazed by your unwavering confidence and fearless-bravery," he exclaims, a hint of admiration in his voice.