Adventures in Minifigures - Part 2. The Boxer with a License to Kill

While the Royal Guard stood there pondering his role in life, a hulk like silhouette staggered proudly over the crest beyond the city and strode up the the city gate. 1 eye was blackened like soot and there were bloodied stains on his chest and gloves. His chest pushed out falsely, asserting what he had once been, while his eyes showed what he had become. 

With the storm clouds leading of in the distance, like a flock of geese, the setting sun bronzed the dilapidated walls of the city in cold winter sunlight 1 last time before it would set for a long and cold night.

The Boxer stood in front of the Guard, frozen still as a statue.The Boxer opened his crumpled mouth and uttered inquisitive words of the place which stood before him in booming words of pain and depth of knowledge deeper than the ocean. The Guard stood there is stony silence. He saw what confronted him and was puzzled by his movement and his grace. The Boxer grew impatient for an answer, and with no warning, lashed out at the Royal Guard with 1 clean and well timed punch. It hit the Guard with significant force. He just swayed backwards on his heels ever so gently, as if moved by the wind. This surprised the Boxer and he stood there with an expression somewhere between confusion and astonishment. The only response from the Guard was a tiny twitch of the nose, not noticeable to the human eye

There was a grinding rumbling noise coming for deep within the wall. The Boxer swivelled his head quickly to see a rusty and wind beaten wrought iron port cullis grumble and groan before him, before it grated against the sandstone that encased and started to rise painfully slowly upwards. 

As the Boxer stood bravely across the threshold, there was one last triumphant gush of wind which fluttered the Boxers shorts around his muscular thighs before dying away into the distant horizon which surrounded the walled city. The Boxer took in his surroundings...