The sounds of countless pounding footsteps, a few out of beat, but as a whole, they all were together as a single figure, rushing, desperate to see that what they were doing, how they sought to rush, to go and fight, to see that their efforts were not in vain.
The first one to step into the battlefield, clad in red and grey stood, looking over what had remained. The irony smell of blood was almost enough to knock the wind out of you. Red eyes scanned over the field--corpses, he expected that much, in any battle, any war, any massacre... Corpses. People died--it was the way of battle.
But... The field, littered with corpses, little life left to be seen... The thing that made the horror strike his heart, was how many children there were. A gaze down at one near his feet, collapsed on the ground... He moved his hand down, gently pushing the child’s eyelids closed, and then moved away.
He knew Noxian had employed child soldiers, but this... This...
“Fan out!” His voice was booming, loud, so all the others which had come with him could hear. “Find any who are alive, Noxian or otherwise!” He shouted. “Harm no child, if you must, find me and I will deal with them!” He wished he could have brought more, but the Order was still growing, and he was unsure of how many it would be safe to tear from their training, from protecting other fronts.
...Even if they failed to reach the battlefield in time, if they could save one life, Noxian child, Ionian adult... It didn’t matter, if at least one could be salvaged, then it would be worth it. It pained to see his own failure... If he was fast enough--
The thoughts were thrown out of his mind. Where others left, running far, he moved to search the children--to check for a pulse, to see if any bodies were still warm. For those who were not...
...He’d see to a proper burial.