Metal-Rat

Mattheu stood out upon the watchtower, his eyes gazing grimly out to the meadows beyond the temple fortress where he lived. Blood streaked the ground, running in crimson rivulets and pooling together in divots. Gored bodies littered the landscape, and the cry of the vultures greeted the new dawn. The sun had just begun to peek its way out from behind the horizon, and with it fled any illusions held about the battle. It had been a massacre. Mattheu smiled wickedly, a bare-toothed smirk holding no joy, and having more in common with an animal sneer. His tunic flared in the morning breeze, and at his hip rested a blood-drenched longsword, its h