Post by Sir Creil Bevier on Mar 3, 2008 21:07:34 GMT -5
The dark, shadowed remains of the ancient citadel rose into the inky blackness of the night sky, towering about the trio like the vast skeletal remains of some long forgotten behemoth. Yet the citadel was not so forsaken as they had first thought.
The three faithful servants had traveled for days numbering in weeks, moving slowly and carefully as they closed the distance between them and their goal. They had been careful to avoid detection and to closely inspect everything unusual they had seen and noted in their passage across the mountains and through the dense, black forest surrounding the city of the dead.
Nothing and nobody living had passed them on the roads and dirt paths during the day, and their meager but blessed camp fire had kept at bay what manner of beast or shadow lurked unseen in the night.
Traveling by horse they had made good time, considering how thoroughly the Monk Sarathai had wanted to scour the wilderness around them. Creil wondered what manner of evil warranted such an intense search, and could only guess at the lengths the cowled man would go to, to search and purify the unholy place towards which they moved.
Over the days he had come to respect the Monk, to see him as a man of values and principles, even if honor and righteousness did not guide his hand in the same way that they ruled the actions of the overlarge Paladin Knight.
The girl, however. . .
He had come to see her more and more as a wide eyed youth, overeager even by his headstrong and brash standards and not fully aware of the implications of each aspect of the other men. She did not understand honor and had not proved herself enough for him to trust in her blade if and when it was needed. She didn't even seem to understand who he was or what he believed in, and was unable to keep her tongue still when it might have availed her to do so.
Still, the true test of character was yet to come.
They had decided to approach the citadel at night, to see it for what it truly was by the dim light of the harvest moon, and to meet whatever manner of beast or being was at abroad at this hour - were there to be any.
Creil rode in front, with the others slightly behind him on each side. The echo of his mounts hooves faded away into the deserted streets of the desolate wasteland of stone, iron and unhealthy looking flora.
"Calm and steady as ever Stormrunner. Thou shalt have no fear in this place, it doth not become thee." The Paladin leaned forward to whisper into the big roan's ear, running his right hand down his neck as near silent soothing words and holy rites calmed him, gave him focus.
Creil did not blame Storm, and the brave beast was often proven to show considerable intuition in unfavorable situations. The Knight did not like this place, and if Storm had his reservations then it was likely they would soon find good cause for his apprehension.
The Holy Knight was not entirely without fear, but was practiced in ignoring unwanted emotion. He was no idiot, but instead had believed the Monk's words - now more than ever. He sensed the essence of terrible things lurking nearby, and had already taken care to loosen his massive shield and draw his huge broadsword as quietly as he was able to.
"Sarathai." Creil gently reined in his mount, turning slightly as he waited for the others to close the small distance. He gestured with his sword, hefting the massive weapon as if it were featherlight and pointing it down the ruined street, further along in the direction they were heading.
"The city square."
The three faithful servants had traveled for days numbering in weeks, moving slowly and carefully as they closed the distance between them and their goal. They had been careful to avoid detection and to closely inspect everything unusual they had seen and noted in their passage across the mountains and through the dense, black forest surrounding the city of the dead.
Nothing and nobody living had passed them on the roads and dirt paths during the day, and their meager but blessed camp fire had kept at bay what manner of beast or shadow lurked unseen in the night.
Traveling by horse they had made good time, considering how thoroughly the Monk Sarathai had wanted to scour the wilderness around them. Creil wondered what manner of evil warranted such an intense search, and could only guess at the lengths the cowled man would go to, to search and purify the unholy place towards which they moved.
Over the days he had come to respect the Monk, to see him as a man of values and principles, even if honor and righteousness did not guide his hand in the same way that they ruled the actions of the overlarge Paladin Knight.
The girl, however. . .
He had come to see her more and more as a wide eyed youth, overeager even by his headstrong and brash standards and not fully aware of the implications of each aspect of the other men. She did not understand honor and had not proved herself enough for him to trust in her blade if and when it was needed. She didn't even seem to understand who he was or what he believed in, and was unable to keep her tongue still when it might have availed her to do so.
Still, the true test of character was yet to come.
They had decided to approach the citadel at night, to see it for what it truly was by the dim light of the harvest moon, and to meet whatever manner of beast or being was at abroad at this hour - were there to be any.
Creil rode in front, with the others slightly behind him on each side. The echo of his mounts hooves faded away into the deserted streets of the desolate wasteland of stone, iron and unhealthy looking flora.
"Calm and steady as ever Stormrunner. Thou shalt have no fear in this place, it doth not become thee." The Paladin leaned forward to whisper into the big roan's ear, running his right hand down his neck as near silent soothing words and holy rites calmed him, gave him focus.
Creil did not blame Storm, and the brave beast was often proven to show considerable intuition in unfavorable situations. The Knight did not like this place, and if Storm had his reservations then it was likely they would soon find good cause for his apprehension.
The Holy Knight was not entirely without fear, but was practiced in ignoring unwanted emotion. He was no idiot, but instead had believed the Monk's words - now more than ever. He sensed the essence of terrible things lurking nearby, and had already taken care to loosen his massive shield and draw his huge broadsword as quietly as he was able to.
"Sarathai." Creil gently reined in his mount, turning slightly as he waited for the others to close the small distance. He gestured with his sword, hefting the massive weapon as if it were featherlight and pointing it down the ruined street, further along in the direction they were heading.
"The city square."
