The chosen and the guards stood there, their weapons pointed at Laz as a heavy tension hung in the air. Laz sat their smiling at the leader of the chosen, not an ounce of worry in his body or gaze. The men, steadfast and ready for the order, held their guns and braced for firing. The chosen raised their hands at Laz and prepared their elemental skills, also awaiting the order that should come any second.
But it never did come as the leader stood there, frozen in place as he stared at Laz. His blonde hair and chiseled jaw made him seem like he had come straight out of a modeling ad, but the scars on his body and rough hands let anyone who looked close enough know that he wasn't a man who lived an easy life, even if he was young.
