They laid upon the cold ground. Limestone, solid and indifferent to hardships of one dying clinging to life. Wrought with broken bones, as their body bled soaking into the rock.
Armour, iron plate adorned in gilded copper checker patterns across the body. Once so powerful, radiant like the sun, the story of the armour's design, now pages of a ripped book nearly indecipherable in its current state tattered as if like paper.
The body? Could it even be called that? It was more machine than human… mutilated, a perversion of nature.
The torn ligaments and muscle fibers are a mesh of flesh, bismuth and Niobium, lay exposed to the thin air. Nevertheless the mind was still intact, barely.
Growing weaker, eyes wavering as the consciousness slips and their sight blackens one thought echos.
Why the BA no die…?
