*THIS IS A ROUGH DRAFT, CRITICIZE AS YOU SEE FIT*
Gyameir Trofosect had become leader of his army years ago. He gained his rank after causing what the Purples called: The Great Collapse. He used their mages to blow up a mountain face, trapping his foes in a cave. They starved out and died. Recently, however, faced many defeats at the hand of the Purple Army. He had been given a final chance by his king. He figured the attack by the dragon would be the perfect time for him to redeem himself.
He gathered his platoon of men. They snuck passed the Purples during the last border conflict. While the bulk of their Blues engaged the Purples on the border they trekked up the mountains, took out the Purple’s long-men and went deep into the woods of Purple territory. While in the woods they managed to stay undetected through luck. Trofosect knew it was more good planning, but luck and blessings of the Gods was what motivated the troops so he did not correct them.
Their undetected luck ended when they came across Purple mage and his bodyguard. They were discovered at their campsite outside of town a few miles south of the capital. The two galloped slowly by on horse. They must have seen the fire and paused long enough to know they should move before his team could react. The rest of his platoon was able to shake off the prying eyes. “It was only two olds, and purple olds on top of that! They’re useless. We’ll be fine!” one of his men told him.Trofosect wanted to believe, but swore he had recognized his bodyguard from somewhere but was unable to place it.
Trofofsect went against his better judgment and tried to ignore that itching feeling of remembrance. They were only a day away from the capital. No one could stop them before they got there. Most of the guards moved north with the king, or stayed at the central battle line. They were free to take their fill! The sense of accomplishment, riches, and utter decimation to the Purple’s ego flowed from him and his men. It carried them through the gate of the capital and into the first farms
“Spread out,” Troforsect ordered. He waved his arm out in front of him. His men trotted on horseback in front of him and began making their way through desolate streets. One soldier, a rod of a man with a big head, dismounted and entered one of the charred houses. He rummaged through the small kitchen area, tossing and dumping all the drawers, dressers, and chests open until every laid out in an avante garde art piece. He made his way to the exit when he felt his food creak on a board. He tested it over again to make sure it was what he believed it was.
The rod sized soldier knelt over with his knife and propped the wood open to reveal a small silver box with gold trim. “I got something!” He ran out of the house and waved it in front of Troforsect. “Where should we start piling the goods.” He lowered his hand. A silver dog trotted up to him and began sniffing him. “Huh? Ehh, who’sey a good boy?” The soldier began scratching under the dog’s chin. The dog wagged his tail and arched his snout up to the man. He sniffed the soldier’s palm, pressing his cool nose on his hand. The dog’s hackles shot up, eyes narrowed, then bared its teeth into the soldier’s hand. “Yeeoow! You stupid mutt!” He raised a foot to kick it. The dog grabbed the box and darted away down the street. “Get that dog!” the rod soldier yelled