new fears.
@pyrrhicsacrifice
The eldest son of Xiahou Dun held his ground, heels dug into the earth as he stood before a small force of poorly-armed men. Brigands--murderers and thieves raiding and pillaging neighbouring villages. His brows drew inward, jaw clamping down as he readied himself--preparing for conflict, though he wouldn’t want it any other way. This is what he lived for, this is what kept him alive. Within his father’s imposing shadow and beneath the ambitious flag of Cao Wei, this was his purpose.
The air screamed as the heavy mace swung through it and flew into the body of an oncoming foe. The sword from the hand of the pinned foot soldier clattered to the ground, his body limp and instantly lifeless from the sheer impact of the spiked weapon. Thrown unto the earth in a heap, the trailing brigand forces all but slid to a stop, shook from the ferocity and speed in which their reckless brother-in-arms had been cut down.
With his back hunched, the warrior’s bowed head lifted; silver-streaked irises cold and focused as his posture straightened. With the exhale of a heavy breath hissing from the back of his throat, Xiahou Chong rolled his left shoulder before hauling the weighty weapon up from its bloody sheath, and dropping the nose of the mace into the dusty earth beneath his feet.
“Surrender.” he demanded, his tone of voice daring the shaken forces to proceed forward and engage him further. His hand shifted; forward facing knuckles releasing as he moved a step forward, palm twisting against weapon’s handle to change the positioning of his hand to grip the mace once again.
