The Vermillion Plain

By Impartial Reader

As He stared at the sunset the sky seemed to turn scarlet in order to match his surroundings. The scent of iron drifting throughout the wasteland that was dyed crimson. As far as you could see there were clusters of bodies, some with arrows in them, some beheaded, but in total all you could see was death, no sort of life thriving in these circumstances. You could see the footprints implanted in the ground. They each told a separate story, maybe of tragedy or maybe of peace, but in the end it didn't matter since all the paths ended here except for one. The man that stood above them all, he wouldn't walk away scott-free, but at least he would walk away. If you looked into his eyes you wouldn't be able to tell where his pupils were since all you could see was a deep ocean that told of atrocities.

His silver armor turned to ruby from the blood of both him and his enemies. By the time the sun arose again the man was gone, all that was left were bloody footprints of a person whose story hadn't ended yet.

**This is a one shot and so will most of my stories**