Private Durandal
The young guard laid on the side of the hill, basking in the sun with her sword on the ground next to her. Birds chirped in the trees, she could hear the water trickling down the stream from the nearby river, and it was peaceful. The villagers at the bottom of the hill went about their business in their quiet little village, and all was well. It was very sudden when the clank of armor caught her ear, and she lifted her head to gaze down at an advancing column of soldiers, walking straight toward the village. Stunned for a moment by disbelief, the warrior grabbed her sword and ran down the hill, toward the advancing column.
The following battle was fierce. The warrior, though she fought valiantly, was knocked out by an explosion. She heard snapping, as though someone were trying to rouse her...
Durandal gave a groan, before her eyes fluttered open to see Skye over her. "... G'morning..." She blinks at the woman, a Darcsen, and then at her armor. Armor? And this wasn't her house. Where was she? And, wait, where- there. Her sword. That was a small comfort, but that didn't answer her question. "So, I have a question. Aah... where am I?"