I would like to thank the lovely Anonymous/Guest that reviewed on some of my stories and posted a slew of information that helped me see that I was stereotyping the characters. Although I am quite unsure how to accurately portray five characters judging only from their various in-game body postures and how NPCs act to them, not to mention the fact that they do not speak to NPCs with actual text, I will try my absolute best to be more exploratory.

Be warned, this is a serious piece and possibly the darkest one I've written yet.

She tried, she really did, but it seemed like the final straw and she just could not bring herself to care as from the corners of her tired eyes she spotted Lann panting in exhaustion below the vile flying monster, too slow to dodge the Ancient Elchulus as it dived down and slammed it's entire weight onto the man, sending a spray of blood gushing out from under its clawed feet. When the dragon lifted itself back up into the air with a ferocious scream of fire, Lann was no more than a smear of blood and broken armor on the floor. He was gone, just like that, and no amount of Phoenix Feathers would bring him back this time.

She understood, from the bottom of her long-frozen heart, that her world lived by the law of kill or be killed, so she aimed an attack at one of the dragon's bulky legs and grimly fought through the spray of viscous black blood that poured out from Echulus' now-missing limb. The monster howled in pain and collapsed onto it's side, but it didn't take long for her to amputate the dragon's other three legs before hacking off it's wings as well with the jagged remains of her broken shield with a flourish.

The dragon gave a pitiful howl of pain and wiggled around like a decapitated maggot, snapping it's jaws at her in a last attempt before it bled to death. The others in her group had long stepped back to tend to their wounded and identify the dead, leaving her alone with the damnable monster.

Fiona locked her gaze with the frenzied Fomor and watched it's eyes grow dim and glassy as it died slowly and painfully while the seconds agonizingly ticked by. Before the it gave it's last breath to the world, she buried her weapon deep into it's skull with a deafening crack. Leaving her beloved weapon and shield behind, she turned onto her heels and headed to the still-wet smear of a dead man that had been her companion long before the others had arrived at their dismal outposts of death and destruction.

Sifting through the bloodied mess of bones, blood, and metal debris, she found the flat metal tags that identified the corpse as Lann, Dual-Wielder, Beserker. She took them into her hand and wiped the blood and bits of gore off. It didn't take long before she put them around her neck and made her way to the members of her group who were still alive.

As she dispassionately watched a magic-user from a backup regiment set fire to the remnants of each corpse from where they laid with a prayer of respect, Fiona did not shed a single tear through her blank expression, like the rest of the remaining members of her group.

It would be very unlike her if she did, anyways.