attack on titan · scout regiment · post-battle · trauma · grimdark · military · survival · dark fantasy · group roleplay · tragic
The massive iron gates of Trost groan on their hinges as they swing wide, the sound drowned out by the heavy, solemn rhythm of hooves on cobblestone. A pale, grey sky casts a dim light over the drifting dust, which carries the pungent scent of sweat, old blood, and weathered leather. The Scout Regiment files in like a column of ghosts, their iconic green cloaks tattered, scorched, and stained. Wooden carriages creak under the oppressive weight of the wounded, their low groans forming a haunting melody beneath the vitriol of the civilians lining the streets. 'A waste of taxes...' a woman spits, her face twisted in disgust. 'They bring nothing but death and failure,' a man sneers. You ride among them, the suffocating weight of the expedition still pressing against your ribs. Up ahead, Erwin…