[center][h2][sub][i][color=salmon]Fiona[/color][/i][/sub][/h2][/center]
[sub][sub][h3][i]Unknown Location - [color=green]500 HP[/color] - 6/6 Stamina[/i][/h3][/sub][/sub]
[hr]
	Despite her inexperience with the darker horrors of war and struggle beyond the walls of Armistice, the smell that Fiona awoke to was a familiar one. Ash, smoke, fire, [i]burning[/i]. That hazy, acrid stench. It was something that both comforted and haunted any Order member. A source of protection and strength, even as its creation steadily decayed their insides. Fiona was perhaps less fond of the smell of burning, and the burnt, than most of her brothers and sisters.

	She groaned softly, finding herself on her side in the cracked earth. The crossguard of her longsword dug painfully into her hip, but other than that she felt intact, which was a bit surprising given how she remembered the carriage being smashed into, or attacked, or something. Fiona rolled onto her back and blinked the bleariness from her eyes, pushing herself at least up onto her elbows. The three figures had already arrived, as had the faceless human-like things before them, and Fiona froze where she lay. It was a first taste of how something [i]real[/i] and horrific being in front of her compared to simply studying and learning of it. Uneasiness coiled through her insides, with a touch like ice.

	Fiona looked to her allies, a few of which had already risen. The male mercenary-type, the prisoner, he was up, as were the two that had introduced themselves as Jessabelle and... Nicholas, she believed. Jessabelle cleared the smoke away somewhat with a magically infused arrow, the act seeming to take quite a bit out of her. Nicholas... winked at her? Why would he do that? She found it such an odd, lighthearted thing, like this situation was just another day for him. It actually made her feel a little less petrified; the ice beginning to thaw.

	Clambering to her feet, Fiona drew her sword with a ring of steel. The long blade was polished to a brilliant shine, its edges honed deadly sharp from both excellent care and lack of use. Today would be the first day her weapon tasted blood of monstrous beings. When Nicholas charged, Fiona was a half step behind him, rushing forward as well. She targeted the faceless man that was next closest, spinning into a wide horizontal slash, her sword singing through the air with swiftness and force.