"So, are we clear? Don't lie and tell me if there's a part of the operation you don't understand." Ascalon asked in a heavy tone, his stern eyes scanning over the pillars of his little Damnedling Army.
Only a few months had passed since he became the leader, and in those few months, he had learned and experienced a lot of things, far more than what he would've had he not been stuck in Limbo, although more through pain and suffering than through his few meagre accomplishments.
He had lost quite a number of people.
Ascalon, as the captain of their little force, naturally got devoured by his guilty conscience and the pain of failure due to incompetence more times than the number of fingers on one's hand.
Some operations even turned out to be a total disaster.
While the loss of a few dozen people seemed small and insignificant, all of them trusted him with their lives, and he, by his standards, failed them.
Every single one of their deaths haunted him to this day.
