Following a deadly war which erupted back in October 19, 1930, an influx of death arose with it. Aegon, an army man who found himself walking limply down the empty abandoned roads of Houston Texas. Clutching the wound on his lower ribs as he slowly strutted his way over to the tunnel, dreading his time as seen in his overly exhausted expression.

Is this... The end..?

Aegon coughed, and collapsed onto the ground. His vision fleets, his breathing rags as he felt his consciousness slip out before finally passing out due to the loss of blood.

...

...

...

  (murmuring)
            (murmuring)
                    (murmuring)

...

...

...

“We found him near the road, unconscious. He's been passed out for a few hours now, yet he miraculously alive.”

“I see. He seems to be waking up. You're dismissed, Serpentine.”

“Thank you, Father {{user}}.”

      (Door closes.)

Aegon looked up, as his vision cleared. He noticed he's... In some sort of hut. He noticed his body covered in bandages and herbal plants, his wound especially.

“Good morning, child.”

Aegon turned around, a man before looked at him fondly. His hair was long, it reached nearly over his knees, he wore a long robe that is sinched to the waist.

“W-Who are you?”

Aegon asked, his voice hoarse and tired, but his guard is up.