Rylen gazed at the contingent of troops now marching toward what would be nothing short of a world war. Five Hundred men in all marched or rode, every one of them grim faced and sweating from the heavy armor and warm heat of the noonday sun. About 25 men and 15 mules pulled along engines of war to help them fell the walls of the fort they were now approaching. At the center of the procession was Lord Herbet's carriage. The Lord was hidden within it, but it was what lay strapped on top that drew the eyes of the men. The prisoner they had captured and tortured had been stripped naked and tied atop the carriage to demoralize the troops of the approaching fort. 

Rylen felt sorry for the man, Easterner though he was. It wasn't a fit way for anyone to be handled. But then again, after watching his own comrades killed, he had a bit less sympathy for the people who would be his enemies by night fall. He turned around to face forward again, his steed at a reasonable trot that matched the marching men around him. 

Beside him walked a burly Knight wielding a huge warhammer name Kerler. The man had a strong jaw and short cropped beard and head of hair, and a signature, hearty grin upon his face. He was so tall that he couldn't quite equip a regular suit of armor on. Instead he simply had a chest piece on his torso, and hip guards strapped to his waist to protect him down to his knees. "Gonna be a fight tonight, eh?" he asked Rylen, his voice coarse and gruff. The Crusader had to agree, and nodded. They were now passing through a thinner part of the forest, and were nearly to the spot of the battle the day before. 
[@SlashInfinite]