Open - Brick By Brick - Southwatch Epilogue

Disclaimer: You don't have to have participated in the siege on Southwatch in order to participate in this epilogue, and may come and go as you please.

Southwatch - After the Battle

Thread Theme Song

Southwatch had fallen. That much had been readily clear during the war. Many bodies lay throughout the rubble, as the sun rose on another day in Dormont, but those bodies paled in comparison to the giant angelic creature that was half monster, from the waist up, and half statue, from the waist down. Many blows it had taken to fell the beast, and nobody was really sure how to start the cleaning process. All many people knew was that it stunk, and it was in the way of any sort of possible repairs on the wall.

Many people were digging through the rubble that was all that remained of the Southwatch wall, looking for survivors. Others looked for the bodies of their fallen family, or their fallen friends. Others simply looked at the sunrise and cried, unable to accept the coming of another day. Many would find solace in helping to dispose of the soldiers that had assaulted, albeit unknowingly, their kingdom. There was a pyre going for Ferelden soldiers to burn, and some even threw Astorean soldiers into it, much to the dismay of many of those who searched for their loved ones. But the cleanup was necessary, and so someone had to do the dirty work. The masons couldn't begin repairs around the bodies, after all.

Others pushed the rubble into neat piles, separating stone from flesh, and machines from stone. Large pieces of stone were pulled out and organized for recycling, while smaller stones and wood found their way into a trash pile. Metal and machine parts were all pulled separately, as men organized what looked like an amalgamation of ballista, arrow cart, catapult, and trebuchet pieces. Yet others pulled the towers back into the rocky outcroppings of the southern part of the kingdom to begin repurposing and repairing those that still worked, and others dismantled those that were too far gone for repairs.

Everyone worked, and some seemed content to keep working, even as others jumped in or left the scene. The heroes of Southwatch were honored by the soldiers who recognized them. But the real heroes were the men and women who gave their lives to defend the wall. A sentiment that many of the surviving soldiers agreed with when talked to. Astorea had paid a large price to survive. But they had done it, and now they could move on.

Brick by brick, Southwatch would be rebuilt.

Emerath

It didn't get any easier. Dealing with the aftermath. For every body burned, and every bit of rubble cleaned up, it didn't get any easier. Emerath knew he couldn't really work any faster, and he had to take things one step at a time. But as they moved around the giant angelic corpse, he couldn't help but remember what had ultimately been their downfall. It didn't help that the longer they worked, the more the creature began to stink. Emerath would just have to live with it though, there were other pressing matters.

Of most interest to Emerath was the pile of machine parts that had begun to amass as the cleanup progressed. He had wanted to make something out of it, but knew that now was not the time. What was most important was the wall itself. But Emerath was no mason. He was a tinker. What could he really do? The answer came in the form of a set of masons who called out for any and all able hands to lay bricks for the walls. Emerath supposed his tinkering would have to wait, since he was in fact an able hand at the moment.

He listened intently as they explained the concept of laying the bricks in a line and then taking and putting mortar on them for the next row up. The bricks were large, and so they would need a lot of mortar for the laying. Some people were relegated to the creation of said mortar in abundance. Others relegated to pulling the materials for it. Everyone seemed to be working together on the rebuilding effort. At least, those who didn't feel a bit too "heroic" to be getting down and dirty alongside the reconstruction crew. Emerath certainly didn't feel entitled just because he had fought in the war. He had also not been able to prevent losing the wall in the first place, despite that he had tried. It was only right that he helped rebuild it.

And so, the red haired man dug in, and began to lay the large, heavy bricks in a row, alongside his compatriots. It was going to be a long day of work, but it would be worth it to see the wall rebuilt in their victory.

 

Kijin's introspection

Brick and mortar lay in ruin where Southwatch fell. They stood long against a tireless enemy, the myriad casualties on both sides more than enough to install a long lasting foul taste in the mouths of players and denizens of the world alike. A famous American General once said, "it is good that war is so terrible, else we would grow fond of it."

Kijin reflected on those words and found them fascinating. For men who lived in interesting times, the yearning for peace must have been extraordinary. Their era was born of that bloody timeline, a long standing industrial age that climbed to its height on the ingenuity of people who were living the dream of their forebears.

Thom often wondered about whether that climb had caused stagnation in the people. Men no longer fought with skill and steel, but with gun and explosive. Athletes were humanity's last, best hope for peak physical condition. The starvation for battle though, found its way into those behind computer screens.

The Roleplaying Game had crawled its way to competitive dominance.

Now here they were.

The dark haired youth sat atop a sundered spire, shirtless and bloody. His legs hung over the side and he reclined against a pile of bricks that had their edges ground away by multiple blasts. Most of the players already turned to healing the wounded and rebuilding, but for some people, the memories were still fresh.

Kijin stared at his hands.

Those same hands had held the blade that defended Astorea. An entire Kingdom placed their faith in his ability, and whether by sheer luck or skill, they had been rewarded. Astorea had not fallen.

In the east, the Kingdom seemed to sparkle with the sunset blazing behind it. This view was Terrasphere's way of rewarding the Wanderer for a job well done.

Unlike the many players, though, Kijin's had been a position gained from convenience, and his accolades were better suited to the people who invested themselves in the Kingdom. The moment he was able, he would relinquish the title of Watch Commander and return to his travels.

Terrasphere was massive, and there was more of it to see without playing the game of politics.

"Beautiful sight," he remarked quietly as he poured out a glass of whiskey for himself from his reserves. "I've got just the thing to go with it...!"

 

Aalam he returned to the field of battle and just stood to stare out at the place that he had helped to defend at the site that he killed so many people. Lover father children all were killed by his hand; there were so many bodies that they were piled up two and three persons high. He could always recognise his hand work in the mist of the mountain of corpses. His arrows were different for the usually make, after all, he had to make sure that the shafts and feather were black.

He could feel a new weight settle on his shoulder it was the realisation of all that he had done to protect the capital and the people who had hide behind the wall. He had failed them in the south, but they had managed to hold the line and managed to save the east wall. Most of the player had survived to make it out, and that was something, but the NPC had died by the hundreds. This was a type of victory that was only a victory in the name he had lost too many lives. However, there would be time to mourn later there was something that he needed to do. He had brought his supplies for that reason taking his bag off his back and resting it down with a thump. There was a nice sturdy piece of wall that was at his height grabbing one of the tomes from the bag and opening it to the first page.

It was black they all were black and then he began to write every name, every person that had fallen in battle during his time as co-commander of the watch. He needed to make sure that they would be remembered they had given their lives at his command to hold the wall and even when it fell they stayed to fight that angel. That creature of damnation had killed so many; there were just so many bodies. It took him most of the day to record the names of all those that had fallen by the time he was finished he had gone through all ten of his book and at least twelve ink pots, but he had them all. They were all written down and had been passed on to a citizen to take back to Lord Seto’s castle. There they would be safe until the wall was built. Looking over the field then again at Astorea they had saved a kingdom full of people. Taking the last of his arrows and slamming them into the ground, as thanks for their service. May they rest in peace in the halls of the gods.

 

Emerath stood, wiping his brow after the first row of bricks had been laid for the wall. The masons had told them to stop laying, and explained that they would begin pulling mortar across the bricks for the next layer, and that that the people placing the bricks would have some time to rest. Emerath stretched and pressed against his back as he leaned to try to pop his spine back into place. He supposed that would have to do for now.

Emerath had noticed a bit of a crowd forming in different areas, but what caught him most off guard was a lone man, sitting and writing in a book. Emerath watched as he just kept writing, and seemed to have a nice stack of books next to him. Slowly, Emerath made his way over in the time he had to kill, curious about what he was writing. Emerath counted nine books, and as he reached the man, he closed the tenth, called over a citizen, watched as they were picked up, and taken away.

All at once, Emerath remembered who this man was. It had been one of the commanders for Southwatch. Emerath smiled and walked over after he watched him slam his arrows into the ground. The man seemed full of honor in this moment, and though it didn't feel completely right to disturb him, Emerath couldn't help it.

"A lovely day to rebuild the wall, eh?" he commented, hoping to get the man's attention. "Commander, I'm sorry but I don't think I ever actually got the chance to formally speak to you during all the commotion. It was a pleasure fighting by your side." He moved to sit down next to the man, presuming that he stayed sitting, and he would look out over to the mason's laying the mortar for the wall.

"Looks like repairs should go well over the coming weeks. If we keep up this pace, we can probably have the wall fully rebuilt in a month or so. Maybe sooner if everyone pitches in," Emerath explained, not even sure if the man was interested in that. Though, as a man of Astorea, he could only hope.

@Aalam Abungu

 

He had finished all that he had come here to do and was packing up his bow was slung over his shoulder, and his quiver was empty. There was still the journey back to the primary capital in the southern duchy if he hurried he might have been able to make it in time to get a drink. However, that was looking less and less like it was going to be happening today the entire valley was open there were soldiers stationed here as a sort of formal inspection, but there was a far cry from the wall that once held the valet. It would take people with some of the more dedicated skill to help repair the wall, and that was a skill set that he did not have well not yet anyway, those skill were something that he would be able to come into on day put for right now he had to make sure that he would be able to protect his lands.

So he had put all of his abilities into killing and killing had failed him here however but those were thoughts for another day. Dusting off his amour he was about to make his way back to the gate. When he heard someone start to talk to him, he knew that voice it had severed under him along the wall. It was the lad Emerath the tinker; he was glad to see that the boy had made it out of the war without dying. He even was able to keep his up that positive attitude; the war hadn’t broken the lad.

‘You are right it will be a task to rebuild the wall, it will be something that will require the help of the player base. However, if it’s done right then we can make it stronger than it was before and make the defense of the wall much easier. I have some ideas to make it better, but I must see with that builder that shall be working on the designing the new wall itself.” Gazing at the valley remember the fight that had taken place just a few days before. If he could make the wall stronger maybe be turn the valley into the defense itself. With long-range outpost, they would be able to react faster, and an army wouldn’t be able to sneak up on them as quickly. “We will make it stronger.”

@Emerath

 

Emerath considered what Aalam had said about making the wall stronger, and immediately the gears in the man's head began turning. "Stronger, eh?" he commented, as his mind began to race a mile a minute from the thought. "Say, maybe a mechanical mind could help make it stronger? We could build traps into the wall, along with reinforcement. It would make it so that things like ladders and soldiers climbing the wall is less of a reality."

Emerath stayed close to Aalam as he seemed ready to leave, as he continued with, "Can you introduce me to your designers? Even the simplest of traps, such as a good tar pot at points above the gate. It makes it so that we can take out men like the rammers easier." Emerath took a step back though, he worried that he may have been overstepping himself. But he made one thing very clear to the man, so that there was no confusion. "I haven't been playing this game long, but I feel like I have a lot to contribute. Astorea has given me a lot of cause to appreciate her people. I don't know your history, but I'll help you guys rebuild. It's no secret that you appear to be rather important. So let me continue to serve you and her people. This could be an opportunity not just for the wall, but for Astorea as a whole. What do you say?"

@Aalam Abungu

 

((Alex's Theme))

Broken bodies were mixed among heaps of broken walls. Sorrow and weeping hung in the air more thickly than dust and smoke from the work of those that toiled away at cleaning the aftermath. Among the many melancholy figures that milled about working at their morbid tasks, one stood still in the midst of it all.

Alex was not what most outside the Faerin people would consider large, but she seemed even smaller here, juxtaposed against the broken heaps of shattered stone and smouldering remains. One blue-green speck in a sea of greys and browns, stained in places with black and red. She stood, dumbfounded, and feeling more feeble and powerless than she had in her entire life.

Her heart was broken. A dull throbbing of pain existed in her chest where the beating of life should have been. Tears rolled silently and unseen down cheeks hidden behind her metal helmet. Now more than ever she was grateful for the privacy her armor provided.

This was her fault. Perhaps somewhere, deep down, she knew that was not true; but standing in the crumbled opening where wall should be, Alex felt the weight of responsibility. If only she had been faster. If only she had not gotten lost. If only her legs weren't so short. If only, if only, if only... But those wishes would do nothing to change the reality of loss that surrounded her on all sides. This crumbled and broken wall was the very symbol of her failure to help, her failure to bring aide. Alex Marquardt, the living shield, had defended no one.

She choked back a sob, it would not do to break down weeping here. She wasn't the one who'd lost someone. She wasn't the one who had given everything to save anyone. She was just late. Late to the battle, late to help. Too late to make a difference. Her shield was a powerful tool of protection, of help, but it did little good to anyone if it was not where it needed to be when it needed to be there.

Alex bit her lip until she tasted blood, to force back the tears and swallow her sorrow. There was work to be done, and standing here feeling sorry for herself, for her failings, was not doing anyone any good.

She looked around for where the nearest workers were, and joined their number. She would see her failures first hand, as penance, and with each step she promised herself that this would be the last time she was not there to fight against such tragedy.

She carried the dead on her shield, and when the bodies were moved, she joined those that were digging graves, using her shield as a shovel. If it failed to save these lives, then it would work for them in death.