It had been many a moon's passing since he had seen such a place in such poor, fallen state. Not quite true to its namesake, Father Cross considered, as there was far too much left to be considered the Ash of a village long past its time. No one could argue it was a place anyone would wish to go, without good reason, but then again, they were here for a very good reason. Even if the other two cared for little beyond coin, there was work to be done here. Of course, just as he was about to more closely analyze his peers here, a knight approached them. Considering how little was left here? This man was likely the Sir Arthur Chastibul, and the man's rather disappointed reaction towards the group spoke volumes about the kind of man they were dealing with here.

Firstly, he seemed to have not expected a Templar, holy warrior of a given god, but had nothing to say. Curious, though given the fact that he had yet to ever know the existence of Templars that swore to any God but Borealis and Ragnarok, another lady that would not take kindly to his existence. Nothing new there, he considered with a silent, mental laugh. The disgusted response to the half-breed was, while not surprising, disappointing. Some argued that those of vampiric nature were the daughters of Shee'l Tor, given his common association with the dead and the fact such beings were undead. In fact, undead were mockeries of life, and perversions of death, so most followers of his own God viewed them poorly, more so than the uninitiated outsiders. Yet he could ill afford enemies when so many were ready to take up the mantle, and beings of death and undeath [i]did[/i] fall within the realms of Shee'l Tor, distaste aside. 

Lastly, the unbridled and unrestrained hate, coupled with a remark on Necromancy, announced the man had finally deigned to notice him. Rather, it solidified such a thing, the quick backstep and grasping of blade announced it first. Rather than make some cheeky remark towards the 'King's Squire', he merely glanced as the orders were given to 'Run him through' should he try anything, and settled on sarcasm instead. [color=598527]"Would that include following you to your office, then?"[/color] The sarcastic remark towards such a hateful figure was a common response for him, they hated what they didn't understand, so he would treat them like the children they were. Children hated the unknown, adults found a more reasonable reason than 'I don't know what it is, hate it!' sort of approach. The one man, face twisting into a death's head grin, got a feint smile in return from the priest. Death haunted them all here, and even if he had not arrived to seek out the core problem, a Priest of Shee'l Tor was desperately needed here regardless. The other? God fearing man, fearing any but his own, stepped away from him. Classic response, fear of the unknown, another child in a man's trappings. He found himself speaking to no one in particular, though not muttering since that would earn him a running through. [color=598527]"Death haunts this place, like a living soul haunts a favored tavern, or perhaps a beloved brothel is more apt. It is a fondness, a loving routine of visitation and satisfaction, which is rather clear in your faces."[/color]

[color=598527]"Though I must disappoint, despite the trappings, I am no necromancer. While Necromancers carry the name of Shee'l Tor upon their lips, not all of Shee'l Tor's Priests are Necromancers. Just like a Templar and a Warrior. Templars are warriors, though not all warriors are templar."[/color] If nothing else, this Priest of Shee'l Tor was a talkative soul, sometimes plain in speech, other times not so much. His tone was calm and intentionally soothing, inviting trust and relaxation despite all received hostility and distrust thus far. His kind were hated and reviled, that was nothing new, but they filled a role most vital, and took solace and pride in such things. Turning his gaze away from the town guard, devastated as it was, he considered this Sir Chastibul and his mannerisms thus far before speaking his next piece, having assumed the man was indeed this 'King's Squire'. [color=598527]"It would be safe to presume this beset village has a problem with the unquiet dead, or, 'King's Squire', is such a thing unfair to presume so soon?"[/color]