Pullio looks up ahead of him, at the wagon leading towards the town. His odd eyes glance about at the guards walking alongside him and the wagon, seemingly all watching the barbarian. He scoffs and looks down at his chained wrists, thinking<span style="font-style: italic">I still cannot believe they overwhelmed me. I thought I was invincible, it seems that even when berserk I can fall.</span>Pullio reaches up to scratch at his chin, rustling the chain with the movement. A guard raises a gun, aiming it towards Pullio's head.<br/><br/>"You'd better put those arms down freak." The guard warns, eyes narrowed, "I will blow your head off. I do not care how much you are worth, I will kill you."<br/><br/>Pullio put his arms down and frowns at the guard, who has Pullio's blade strapped against his back. "You dead already," He replies  and shambles slowly up the path, following the wagon. His eyes glance up to the town ahead, and he prays to his pagan gods for someone to help him. If just to allow him to free his arms. He sighs and lowers his head, allowing his brown hair to fall in front of his face, wooden beads, charms, and small pieces of rock and metal clinking against each other.