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Turned neither eye nor nose to the wizard addled in memorium, Gerhard merely gazed with that certain aged understanding of his so dear. Deep-set somewhere firm within those fleeting orbs of the younger of two men [i]something[/i] laid-bare in brief. For specifics, the knight could not well say, even so, Mulad no doubt held his own share of remembrances stolen away, just as any in this age. And that thought, perhaps as macabre as it could be, comforted Ser Brandt. A wizard so grand may he be, yet a man just so.

With such a thought, the Glamhoth could do no less than return the kindly smile, a strange thing to be had upon dirt-laden paths from which to mistake as deep-shaded clay would be a fault of any onlooker. 

A brow most bushy first raised at the magus' discussion of corpse-words, yet before a retort leapt from the tongue an assault feigning foul drove upon either's ear, words snarled 'twixt ivories most sharp. Much as Mulad, the knight wheeled in swift, cape a-flutter to meet the offending speech. A fist near plunged direct for the hilt at the man's hip, and just so! Stayed however was it by temperament practiced and sure.

'Such a beast. . .'

Mouthed he, deflating from readied caution as the wizard made his thoughts obvious to any. Never before 'midst the ser knight's life had a creature such as 'Irrak', as they would come to know, appeared. Relived so Gerhard was of course, to see aggression naught through the monstrous Gnoll, to best a beast as so even with an empowered mage at the side? Doubt cast at the very least.

And so even as a fourth joined in tandem, the small party strode forth through the swamp dire, for the splintered taphouse from which mortals the world over would soon converge. No more gruesome than the blooded bazaar, each [i]man[/i] merely took it in stride, yet still the knight could not help but to sigh, even the sacred places such as these were not untouched. Of course it were not so, such wishful thinking in the days following crusades black were as seeds un-watered. 

"Nary the place for a drink proper. . ."

Gerhard spoke, half in response to the fervent caster, half to respect those fallen among the rubble. Despite reservations in spades, the man forged inward alongside future companions, electing to stand just 'fore what remained of the bar. Seemed it all but right to sit and even think to make merry within a site desecrated so.

Another form made its appearance along with the eking of the threshold, more mundane, that of elven sort to join the four now, and most welcome indeed, respect of course was shown as Ser Brandt ever had, repeating the bow as before by introduction fair.

Then another of the same make, and another still, little more than a boy, little more to tug at the gentle knight's heartstrings. With time passed, three souls more found themselves within the ruined halls, without fail so, each and every one would find their greetings in Gerhard.

Thus were they so, eleven in all 'neath hollow skies.

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[i]A knight most of merit,
Elf of life disparate,
A hunter most perplexed,
Little man of life vexed,
A young smith of skills inherit, 
Beast of strength declare it,
A merc of sweets apexed,
Girl amidst sacred text,
A dwelf fringed and errant,
Young boy a scout ere it,
An angel appearing next,
Under mage the very best[/i]. 

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Twelve 'heroes' of tragedy, know not they the fates that twined and twisted, know not they what lied beyond their mortal perception, know not they the harrows of the future, lest this journey would never have begun. . . So listened they then, the ten, to the twelfth's words, learning of which the part they had all to play in scheme.

Alas, just as it was, rest most certainly did avail they them all.

Those more readied of the party swirled by intensity, burst in action, the graveyard from which each foot lie stirred and quaked of unearthly sighs. Dead men walk not of their own volition, those unaware learned so this day. Ser Brandt of all, veteran among the Dark Crusades had seen sights as these all too often, never an end to it all, so seemed.

[i]"These walls a death-trap as good as any, we make for beyond them, open ground wouldst deliver us all of surprise!"[/i] 

Gerhard's voice boomed as he weaved beyond the middling heighted half-dwarf as a gust, the large knight stroke forth through the portal into a realm which appeared wholly different than the morbid peace of the mass grave he first had come upon. 

Stood there didst he, just 'fore the wooded threshold of their fortress, naught but hellscape therein lie greet. Festering carcass, sundered man and child, the still embering mort of women. All and more rose to their straps and feet and corroded boots to shamble for livened flesh. Yet the site more dreadful, the very skies a-blood, seemed they to weep and peel to crimson shade, every shadow deepened, every dark most umbral encroaching closer and closer still.

Perhaps at once the sudden comeuppance was all too much for even the most stalwart, the Lavasian knight's weary lids shut a moment fore, relative, the darkness that blankets the future on is even more so bleak. Crushing the dread, Ser Brandt unsheathes his blade of length from its side, taking the hilt in hands both, with a mighty stamp and cry he drives unease ever further. 

[i]" 'Tis naught a bed of flowers pure under morn's peace of first light, thus we cannot fall here or ever until then! Those of arms with me in form I ask! Stray not far, to be surrounded is to be as they."
[/i]

Hoping his gruff voice breaks to each companion, the man drives a few steps forward, only a score in eight from the desecrated alehouse, with mercurial thrust, his steel enters and vacates a single gnawing skull in but a fluid motion, before peddling back toward the formation in his head.

Tired though he may be, to find the elder man ready to quit at the very beginning of darkness' fall, would be as to cleave the mightiest mountain. . .

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