Soloing, because one of my MC (or two, i dunno) will have to become the Genocider or at least the Enemy of the World:
Staring at the massive pile of people in front of him, from the pikemen readying their spears to the cavalries steadying their horses and readying the lances. The bowmen are most definitely hiding behind the shields and nocking their bows to blot the sun out with their arrows. He can already spot a few flags flying with the Emblem of the Light, he smirks at the hilarious thought of the stooges finally willing to put their difference aside to smite him.
He can already imagine the human waste of a commander at the very rear with that traitorous snake of an advisor and a depraved audience waiting for the news of his demise. It is truly depressing as his face crumpled on the thought once more, knowing whatever you do to help the kingdom and its people will only get
stuck in pointless politics by those high on tops not caring for the people below.
Be it the inept royalties who looks down on its citizens or the corrupted nobles and their connections to the money grubbing merchants, the knights themselves being egoistic and the ever lying Church of Light with their false salvation, the rot is deep inside. Heck, even most of the people living in the kingdom are liars, betrayers and thugs that are worse than the forest goblins and will without remorse to rob everything you love, some out of desparation, most just mirror their shining examples.
Yet inspite all the darkness, there are loads of good people too, from the baker and his family who tried to help those in the pandemic, to the grumpy old man who has the small potion store who lets kids to work for some pocket change, to the marquis who has his class difference with the people, but is always there to protect the citizens from the corruption.
He clenches his fist that is wrapped around his Old Reliable, the memories of such good people, with their good deeds bringing their untimely demise, a wrathful fire burns from his chest almost exiting his throat as a roar, coming off as a growl through his gritted teeth as he notices a man in well polished armor riding a fine steed to the front of the army, his mocking expression is very clear with James' inhuman vision.
"James of the Monot Household," a mocking laughter started by the man and echoed by the army behind, before raising a clenched fist to silence the crowd as his face snarled, "you of a low birth who had defiled the great kindness of the kingdom shall face your..."
James doesn't bother to hear the rest of it as he lobs the warhammer that looks despicably light at the man, a white streak followed by a loud bang as the hammer flies straight to the man, a loud splat later and the hammer continues to plow through the army behind and causing a frenzied commotion.
The projectile did not go all the way as it got knocked up to the sky by the wrench he knows, a palm forward and the arcing hammer changes its trajectory and back to his hand once more.
Giving his own predatory grin on the already frightened army, a swift flick to get the gore off the weapon as he steps forward with maddened glee, and perhaps a little saddened, for he is about to tear down the wretched hive that he once swore to protect...
