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Description

It seemed like the war was such a distant thing, the papers made it seem a million miles away. Even as the distant sound of gunfire and artillery crept ever closer, and the night burned with flame as bright as the day, people were told not to worry. Some fled in the early days, they saw the writing on the wall, and the rest of them were content with the lies the city elders had told them. The factories must be manned, production must not halt, the crystal mines must continue to deliver on their daily quotas. It wasn't until the enemy was at their doorstep, knocking down ancient walls and spreading chaos, fire, and death did the people pull their heads out of the sand... but by then it was too late.

Young Mitze was born to a wealthy family, a life of some influence and privilege, in the once great city of Ansraade. Something of a child prodigy, she engineered her own automaton in her early teens, and by the age of 16 had been accepted into the Imperial College of Artificers. Little did she know that it would be that same imperium that would invade her homeland and destroy all she once loved and knew.

Mitze had long since stopped crying over the loss of her parents in the early days of the invasion; perhaps she was still in shock, still in a state of survival, or perhaps she simply had no more tears to shed. She and her automaton, that she has named Scrappy Paws when first she had built him, had survived far longer than countless others who had perished amidst the flames of war. She had joined a small band of survivors trying to leave the city, but slowly their numbers dwindled until only she remained. She was close now, so very close to escaping the hell that was once her home, and for one final night she found shelter amidst the ruins of an old clock tower and closed her eyes. Perhaps she might dream a dream free of the sound gunfire and the screams of the dying, free of the spectral faces of her mother and father... one of blue skies and happy smiles once more.

Made using Daz Studio and Affinity Photo 2.

Description

It seemed like the war was such a distant thing, the papers made it seem a million miles away. Even as the distant sound of gunfire and artillery crept ever closer, and the night burned with flame as bright as the day, people were told not to worry. Some fled in the early days, they saw the writing on the wall, and the rest of them were content with the lies the city elders had told them. The factories must be manned, production must not halt, the crystal mines must continue to deliver on their daily quotas. It wasn't until the enemy was at their doorstep, knocking down ancient walls and spreading chaos, fire, and death did the people pull their heads out of the sand... but by then it was too late.

Young Mitze was born to a wealthy family, a life of some influence and privilege, in the once great city of Ansraade. Something of a child prodigy, she engineered her own automaton in her early teens, and by the age of 16 had been accepted into the Imperial College of Artificers. Little did she know that it would be that same imperium that would invade her homeland and destroy all she once loved and knew.

Mitze had long since stopped crying over the loss of her parents in the early days of the invasion; perhaps she was still in shock, still in a state of survival, or perhaps she simply had no more tears to shed. She and her automaton, that she has named Scrappy Paws when first she had built him, had survived far longer than countless others who had perished amidst the flames of war. She had joined a small band of survivors trying to leave the city, but slowly their numbers dwindled until only she remained. She was close now, so very close to escaping the hell that was once her home, and for one final night she found shelter amidst the ruins of an old clock tower and closed her eyes. Perhaps she might dream a dream free of the sound gunfire and the screams of the dying, free of the spectral faces of her mother and father... one of blue skies and happy smiles once more.

Made using Daz Studio and Affinity Photo 2.