Aramis woke to the sound of a loud explosion that seemed to rock the very foundations of the house. Groaning, he rolled out of the bed, grabbing the weapons he had left on the chair. Putting on his coat, ignoring the pain that flared in his side at the fast movement, Aramis rushed about of the bedroom, hoping to find Marie or Antonie there. When he saw they weren't he ran out of the house.
Thick smoke filled the air and a spasm of coughs hit him as he walked further into the smoke. Disorientated, Aramis noticed that screams where echoing from some of the houses. Fire had caught on a number of them. For a moment the present mixed with the past and Aramis couldn't quite remember where he was. Then a woman ran into him, shouting at him for help. "My son. You have to help." She was pointing at one of the houses, which had almost nearly collapsed in on itself from the blast.
In retrospect, Aramis should have realised it was a bad idea to go in there but Aramis' head wasn't fully clear so instead of stopping the hysterical woman from running into the house, Aramis did so. He knew it was a mistake the minute he entered the house but he could see the boy, at the top of a set of stairs, looking down with a scared look on his face. The stairs where nearly half collapsed and Aramis knew there was no way for either himself to climb up or the boy to climb down.
"Jump." The boy shook his head in response, backing away from the stairs. "I'll catch you. I promise." Something in Aramis' tone must have had the boy agreeing with him because the next thing the musketeer knew the boy had jumped.
Letting out a grunt of pain, Aramis felt his knees give out as the boy fell into his arms. He should have been thankful the kid was light but right now only the searing pain in his side was obvious to Aramis. Somehow, he managed to get out of the house before it fully collapsed in on itself. The woman and her son had disappeared in the smoke.
Another blast rocked the streets, and Aramis felt his legs give out from underneath him. Vaguely, Aramis could hear the distant shouts of those around him but Aramis couldn't seem to concentrate on them. Black dots played around the edges of his vision as he willed himself to stay conscious.
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Athos, D'artagnan and Porthos made it to the village just in time to see the second set of gun powder go off. "Find Aramis." Athos shouted at the other two, motioning for them to head down to the village. As they nodded and ran into the village, Athos had to think how things had gone so wrong.
In the distant, Athos could see the house that had held all the gun powder the villagers had found, standing in one piece. Without thinking, Athos started running that way, into the smoke filled streets.
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Somehow D'artagnan and Porthos had managed to get separated in the smoke and chaos surrounding them. The young Gascon was, currently, standing in a middle of a street, searching for something that was familiar to him. He didn't know the village well enough to be able to find his way around and the smoke was making everything all the more confusing. A sudden yell made D'artagnan turn around only to come face to face with Marie Rosette.
She had tears running down her face as she limped towards him. A bloody gash crossed her pale face and D'artagnan had to hold out a hand to steady her. "Have you seen Aramis?" D'artagnan's question was answered with a confused look, which stayed there for a minute before she shook her head. For a moment D'artagnan felt worry over their missing comrade but then he remembered that Aramis was a musketeer. He'd be fine. "Are you okay?"
The same process was repeated but this time she spoke. "Antonie's dead." Her voice hitched as she spoke and D'artagnan felt a moment of worry that the woman would collapse.
"Can you walk?" Shaking her head, D'artagnan groaned, helping to her feet. He could only hope Porthos, Aramis and Athos would be alright on their own.
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Porthos hadn't seen so much destruction out of a battlefield before and he felt his anger increase all the more at the destruction and dead bodies surrounding him. The shouts had gone now, indicating the villagers had either all gotten out or they were dead. It was a distressing thought but at this moment all Porthos wanted to do was find Aramis. If they were lucky the other musketeer would have found his way out but Porthos knew Aramis well enough to know he wouldn't have left without trying to help. And with his injury it was likely he'd only get himself hurt more or worse. But Porthos refused to consider the alternative.
Turning a corner, Porthos looked into a street. The smoke had almost fully cleared of smoke. There wasn't anyone down this street so Porthos walked past it and onto the next. This one was not clear. A body lay on the ground. Running up towards it, Porthos let out a sharp intake of breath as he turned the body so it was laying on its' back.
Aramis' unconscious face was pale and for a moment Porthos thought he might be dead. Then he saw the slight rise and fall in his friend's chest and he breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing they couldn't stay there, Porthos picked Aramis up, mindful of not hurting him any worse than he already was he hurried back the way he had come.
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Athos made it to the house in one piece. At first he thought he might have made a mistake as no one was there. Taking out his sword and pistol, Athos made his way around the side of the house. No one was there.
The sound of feet snapping a branch made Athos turn back to the front of the house. A figure stood with a torch in hand. The fire coming from the stick burned bright and Athos aimed his pistol before the man could throw it into the house.
A loud shot ran through the air as the shot hit the mans; chest. He looked forwards, open mouthed, staring straight at Athos. Before the man could completely fall dead to the ground, he threw the flaming torch into the house.
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