Fiona woke to the smell of blood and a burning city.

Tremendous pain immediately followed. She gasped and writhed on her back, every movement difficult and punishing. She blinked tears from her eyes, trying to figure out where she was, what had happened. Her head throbbed murderously, and she could feel blood on the right side of her face, still warm. Hers. She tried to rise, but the strain on her abdomen was like knives in her flesh. Something was jammed into her side, a small piece of wood from the looks of it, and she could immediately tell one of her ribs was broken. Fiona let her head fall back and tried to catch a bit of breath. This was not good.

Before any kind of hasty plan between her and Faruq could be cobbled together, before they could see what exactly would happen to Brynn or any of the others, there was alarm raised about a fleet of attackers. Dominion, Fiona had thought, along with all the others. She had to help, it was what she'd lobbied for for years now. Fight the elves that wanted their way of life destroyed and washed away. Faruq fought with her, on the walls, where the unprepared city guard had not turned away the much needed help.

But they were not Dominion Altmer that came so swiftly over the walls, cutting through them. Pirates were about as despicable in Fiona's eyes, and so she fought them too, not that they gave her much of a choice. Even managed to cut a few down, before they overwhelmed her. There were no arrows in her, thankfully, but she'd fought through half a dozen cuts, the worst horizontally across her lower back, before a blow sent her toppling over the edge of the wall, and out of the fight.

Fiona woke now in what looked to be a wooden merchant's stall of some kind. She'd fallen through the roof, judging by the hole above her, likely the only thing that had kept her alive. Still, she'd clearly hit her head on something, judging by the red smear across her fingers when she pulled her hand away. The sounds of fighting were distant now, not the cacophonous clamor that had been ringing in her ears from the moment the first enemy came over the wall.

She had to move, find Faruq, find the others, get out of here. With their prize lordling, if they could. The fight was obviously lost, but maybe their lives weren't just yet.

Huffing a few breaths, Fiona channeled the warrior that she claimed to be, and pulled the wood piece from her side. She grit her teeth against the scream, and immediately pressed her hand to the wound, trying to stem the tide. No time to stop. She rolled over, ignoring the cries of protest from her body, and forced herself up. Her sword was nearby; she grabbed it and sheathed it, knowing she had hardly the strength to swing it anymore.

She checked her path carefully once out of the stall, using the nearby wall for support. Bodies littered the streets, guards and soldiers and civilians, one or two she thought may be pirates. They'd clearly already passed through this area. They either thought Fiona dead, or never found her. She moved on, one hand reaching out for anything to brace herself against, while the other tried to keep more of her blood from escaping.

Down the next street, she found Faruq. He lay on his back, stripped of his armor and weapons, a half dozen dead pirates around him. There was a gaping hole in his throat and a few more on his torso, and he'd clearly passed on, after taking several of their enemy with him. Fiona sank to her knees next to him, as much to rest as to mourn. She'd not known him well, but... "You might say I fancy the foolish sort," he'd said. She never did find out if there was any truth to that, nor would she now. And if she did not move on, she would soon join him. She needed healing.

There was nothing Fiona was capable of doing for Faruq. The others could yet live and she expected if they were anywhere, it would be in the castle, under the castle, or near it. She had to get there.

Footsteps drew her to cover behind an overturned cart. She tried to steady and slow her breathing, and to hide the length of her sword. She had no skill at stealth, but it was necessary now, while she couldn't fight. A group of looters passed, armed and clearly with the pirates. Mixed races, as ever. She'd stopped sparing thoughts for who they were. A question for when she knew she would survive this.

When they were gone, Fiona continued forward, half-stumbling a dozen times but never losing her feet. She felt woozy, unstable, sleepy. She'd never been this badly wounded before. An apothecary's shop ahead caught her eye. It looked destroyed, and the building next door had caught fire, which would soon spread. But she had to try. Stepping through the doorway and over the kicked-down door, Fiona squinted through the darkness at the potions remaining on the shelves. Stepping back behind the counter, she tripped and fell over something, landing on her knees with a sharp cry. The apothecary lay before her, an arrow through his eye socket. She blinked at him, then forced herself back up.

Her search ended with a single health potion, not of the greatest strength either. Fiona downed it greedily, sighing as the bleeding was slowed and a bit more strength returned to her limbs. It was hardly enough, but it would keep her alive for the time being. Checking carefully as she exited the shop, she continued cautiously on her way towards the castle.