( There's nothing left of this kingdom. Only ashes and rubble, the smell of death. Bruce never hopes for things to end this way, but it feels as if they do more and more often. And whenever it does, Bruce refuses to do anything but win.
His men are making their rounds, searching for any survivors from the fallen kingdom, tending to their own wounded. Bruce sits tall on the back of his large horse, peering through the dark helmet at the aftermath. Returning home will be a welcome relief, and he's grateful it's barely a day's ride. His men deserve the rest as well.
He's prepared to head back to camp when he hears it, the bustle of movement of some of the soldiers who spot someone alive and moving in the wreckage of one of the temples. Bruce steers his horse quickly towards the commotion, the large hooves carrying him quickly towards his men. By the time he reaches them, they've already gotten hands on whoever it is.
His approach is surely terrifying on his massive horse, his own armor gleaming wickedly in the light of the setting sun. His face is hidden behind the dark metal of his helmet, the sharp winged ears sticking off the back making his shadow appear less like a man and instead something more inhuman.
He's greeted quickly by his men who hold the survivor by his arms. It's a boy, not quite a man, wearing the flowing garments of the priestesses and acolytes. The more Bruce studies him, the more details he can take in, lingering on those warm eyes. Beautiful, even in his fearful state. )
I will deal with him. ( He decides, and the two soldiers nod quickly. They haul the boy close enough that Bruce can grab him easily, pulling him up and into the saddle with him. He holds the thin wrists easily, binding them with rope. ) Don't struggle. ( Is all he says as he ties the rope off, reaching to tilt the the boy's head back to look him in the face. )
spoils of war !!
His men are making their rounds, searching for any survivors from the fallen kingdom, tending to their own wounded. Bruce sits tall on the back of his large horse, peering through the dark helmet at the aftermath. Returning home will be a welcome relief, and he's grateful it's barely a day's ride. His men deserve the rest as well.
He's prepared to head back to camp when he hears it, the bustle of movement of some of the soldiers who spot someone alive and moving in the wreckage of one of the temples. Bruce steers his horse quickly towards the commotion, the large hooves carrying him quickly towards his men. By the time he reaches them, they've already gotten hands on whoever it is.
His approach is surely terrifying on his massive horse, his own armor gleaming wickedly in the light of the setting sun. His face is hidden behind the dark metal of his helmet, the sharp winged ears sticking off the back making his shadow appear less like a man and instead something more inhuman.
He's greeted quickly by his men who hold the survivor by his arms. It's a boy, not quite a man, wearing the flowing garments of the priestesses and acolytes. The more Bruce studies him, the more details he can take in, lingering on those warm eyes. Beautiful, even in his fearful state. )
I will deal with him. ( He decides, and the two soldiers nod quickly. They haul the boy close enough that Bruce can grab him easily, pulling him up and into the saddle with him. He holds the thin wrists easily, binding them with rope. ) Don't struggle. ( Is all he says as he ties the rope off, reaching to tilt the the boy's head back to look him in the face. )