@sunnybard
The Dragonsong war was coming to an end. Many of the Scions had turned up alive. It wasn't like he hadn't lost things in the time between that banquet and now. He had lost multiple friends. He had lost his skill in magic. Roi had lost far too much already. And the weight crushed him.
Even now, a renowned hero. He took jobs venturing into danger. He was lucky he didn't stand out as much. To this day, most in Eorzea knew him to be a mage. The man with the big sword wasn't who they expected their beloved Warrior of Light to be.
So when he went into battle, he did it alone. There was no pressing need. No reason to do it aside from coin he didn't care about. In truth, Roi craved many things in life. Maybe violence was one of them. Maybe it was the rush that made him stop thinking. Maybe it was a lot of things.
Regardless, he had bit off more than he could chew. It wasn't being outmatched or even outnumbers that did him in. It was exhaustion. He hadn't slept in days. And even the most famous heroes need rest. It was something Roi did not allow himself to do. He hated being alone with himself that long.
But it led to him being sloppy. Which, in turn, led to a rather nasty wild boar that had been terrorizing the area in the Twelveswood to land a rather horrible blow on him with its tusks. They turn into him flesh, digging themselves into his stomach and right side. The pain was met with gritted teeth. And he managed to finish the thing off.
It was only after that when he realized how grave his injuries were. The dark red blood pouring from him and onto the grass. The pain that attacked him and winded him. He choked on it. His head spun. And suddenly he was on the ground. The impact increased the pain and he cried out helplessly.
How pathetic. Not a hero's death. Not that he ever deserved one to begin with. He wasn't too far away from a settlement... But it was still just as likely for him to die. He tried to crawl, but the pain kept him still. He just... needed a moment. He forced himself onto his uninjured side and pressed a hand to the wound. It was bleeding badly. Was this shortness of breath from it or fear? How sad he still feared death.
"I... I have to get up...." He told himself, but his body didn't listen.
