Your protagonist. Enjoy his sight, for you will see it often.
A young Officer from the tiny village of Albanar, Darian Wulf is a natural born killer. He has proven himself a vital in this war within the short years that he has been active. Though he not only has authority to, but has proven his capability, Darian prefers not to command large regiments, but instead small specialized teams. This time around, he will be getting that chance.
"Yes, come in." General Sparks replied to the knocking at his office door. Darian entered and saluted his superior. "At ease, Officer Wulf. Sit down, how may I help you?"
Darian hesitated at first, then spoke. "Sir, I've heard rumors circulating the camp. That you are sending a small team to sabotage the enemy encampment."
The general, a large man, who ,despite his age, was quite in shape and much physically stronger than many of the troops, folded his hands together. "And if I were? What would this mean to you?"
"Well, sir, You've seen my work. How well I can accomplish missions with but a handful of men. Please, let me lead these troops on the mission. I will not fail you."
Sparks sat for a moment, running over details in his head, and deciding on whether or not he should send the boy. Finally, he answered. "I don't think your talents would be needed on this mission. But, I suppose I've kept you cooped up in this camp for long enough. Very well, Wulf, I will allow you to lead these men, but on one condition."
"What would that be, sir?" Darian sat forward in his chair.
"You must bring each of these men back alive. They are the best that I have of their rank, and a loss of any of them will mean the gallows. Do you understand?"
Darian swallowed. Is this really worth the possibility of dieing over? He thought to himself. He hesitated a moment. "Yes, sir. I understand."
"Good, now get some rest. You ship out tomorrow, and I have no intentions of sending you out on a journey such as this with no energy whatsoever. You are excused."
At that, Darian left. Later that night, he would get no sleep. Not from finally being sent on a mission after six months, but because the image of the rope around his neck, and the executioner's hand on the lever which would haunt him for the next several months.