Go West, Young Monk!

[Kishou]

Somewhere in the vast barren wasteland, which was once called Ostia, all life was nearly non-existent. One could sit and stare at the land and notice nothing happening. But there's always a surprise that may startle others, something unexpected, that may prove otherwise.

Such a surprise came in the form of a hand popping out from the dirt. It wasn't immediate; the hand had to claw through layers of dirt above it in slow repetition, before finally breaking to the surface. The hand planted itself firmly on the ground, tensed down onto it, and soon an elbow was peaking through the dirt. Then some hair...

With tremendous effort, a head and upper body appeared out of the ground, let out a loud sigh of relief. The man was garbed in a white and red robe, stained in dirt and dust, and his face looked less than wear. Anyone could tell he was a monk, or at least a man of the church.

Now with most of his body free, the monk continued to pull himself out gasping for air as if nearly choked underwater. To be fair, being underneath so much dirt and earth after a cave-in on a underground passage way, he was surprised he even made it out ALIVE.

"I wonder what happened to the others..." Kishou sighed. Aaron, Rein, Bridget... they were all gone. He wasn't sure what happened to anyone, but at least he can hope they managed to escape to. He managed to survive, after all, and a monk at that.

He sighed, glazing around the scenery of dead grass, piles of ash, and smoldering buildings. So many people dead or worse... he wasn't sure where to start, being separated from the rest of the mercenaries (and Bridget).

As of now, Kishou wasn't sure what his first course of action should be. But, if he managed on his own well enough before running into Aaron and the gang, perhaps Etruria would shine good fortune on him once again. But for now, he needed rest. Perhaps a quick nap would suffice...

[Kishou]

The next day, Kishou awoke to a bright sun shining down on him. Still no sign of survivors, Kishou spent most of his time praying to the dearly departed, before deciding his next course of action.

Being on his own once more, he didn't have the luxury of being careless (not that he had much to be careless of back with the group). Monsters and bandits may jump at him at any moment, as this was a time of evil and war, and rumors of more ill actions taking place.

The monk sighed to himself, trying to think what to do. Ostia; nay, all of Lycia, is much too dangerous now. He doubted his skills in helping anyone alone. Still, perhaps there's some clue he can find elsewhere that may help in his pilgrimage, or at least give him time to recuperate with a better plan.

As he started to walk out of the destroyed town, feeling him with more dread than what he saw from the vantage point of the hill only yesterday, he noticed a torn piece of paper on the ground, planted down by a rock so the wind wouldn't blow it away. Picking it up, he saw a fraction of the world map (just reaching as far to Lycia in the torn edges), with a big circle around a country to the west.

Nabata.

He heard stories from his master Doug about Nabata; a village of half-dragon people known as Manakette (or at least that's what he thought they were called) was their only haven there, and the only village in all of the desert lands. Perhaps he could finds something there?

He doubt it, but it was a better plan than wandering around aimlessly in a danger zone, where a mercenary group was quickly disbanded because of a wolf and a terrible fire.

"After all, what do I have left to loose?" He asked himself aloud.

So, with a goal in mind, Kishou started the long, lonely march west, to the land of Nabata.