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Father Bernard rushed towards the Knight who looked to be the leader of the garrison, bringing his bow with him. He figured that the Knights wouldn't mind if he borrowed it for his quest - he, after all, had given up all of his wealth to support the Church and the Knight's cause. "Buon giorno, monsignore," he said, bowing. "I was just passing through when these Moors attacked - but they had to have come from somewhere. Get a tracker and follow their footsteps to their boat. It shouldn't be too hard to follow."

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~ "Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree."

~ "The best way to fight the devil, if not with holy scripture, is to jeer at him - for he can not stand to be scorned."

~ "An atheist is just a person God hasn't met yet."

"Right. Brother Charles, Brother Haeit, and Brother Jared, follow their trail, find their boat, get what you can off of it, and ransack it." The three Knights nodded, got food, water, supplies, and money and set off. "I thank you for your help, Father. May God look down upon you and give you greatness and glory." He bowed.

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Her face tightened and she pulled herself backward, wishing her feet were free so she might run. She loved the outdoors and ran frequently at home…when the streets were still safe, that is. Nostalgia stung her, not unlike her wound from what she guessed was an arrow head. She would give anything to have her legs freed so she could run, far from here. The man smiled, a wicked glint in his eye – predator ready to strike his prey. “Filthy pagan! Nothing but trouble. If I didn’t have…‘uses’ for you, I would kill you now for disrupting my sleep.” Mercilessly he pulled back his arm, hitting her face abruptly with the base of his palm. She bit back tears, refusing to cry out in pain that would give this man the exact reward he sought: her utter, groveling submission. That disgusted her more than alcohol. This man may have her body, but he would never have her mind. He stood groggily, wincing at the clear affects of his hangover. Successively, he kicked her fine body, leaving boot prints on her now-bloodied and dusty sari.

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Took the "What Element are You?" quiz and got 75% Earth and 58% Holiness.
It's pretty accurate - take it to find out what you are!

Ankoroth went for the town vault. He crashed through the doorway, seeing several crossbows trained on him. He raised his hands to feign defeat. "You have finally captured the Bandit King." he said. "In your dreams!" He pulled out daggers from the openings in his plate armor and threw them at the crossbowmen. They all died from daggers in their throats. He walked around, picking up his weapons and walked to the vault room. He grabbed the bags of gold and quickly went back to his horse. He tied them onto the saddle and ran back to the hills, calling his bandits to do the same. They ran several miles down cave systems. They reached the hideout and out the money into the Vault Cave. "Today was a good haul," Ankoroth said proudly. "You deserve a feast!" With that, the bandits crowded around the tables and ate merrily. They were so deep into the tunnels, no one could hear them.

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Gulbrand rode through the french countryside quickly, his two men he hadn't left in Portugal with him. He'd not been able to aquire a boat to go after the Moors, and so estimated where they'd have been heading; Normandy. He was currently in the Champagne region, so he realised he may have to rely on rumours in Normandy to find them. Or just follow the blood. Riding down the road, he finally came to something that looked like a fortress, and ordered his men to dismount, the black hooded cloaks they were wearing doing little to help the cold wind, having been woven in Granada.

Striding towards a knight and someone who seemed to be a monk, he put a hand on the hilt of his sword, wary of the place. It looked as if the area had just been attacked. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but the Knight spoke with what at least seemed to be a slight German accent. Regner looked up at the two and pulled the hood on his cloak back.
'Good day, sirs.' He said in slightly broken Italian. It was a widely spoken language, at least in catholic countries, and he assumed the two would understand.
'It seems i've arrived at a bad time, or at least a little too late to aid you, but have any of you seen a group of Moors around here? At the very least, thirty of them, and they carry shields with a moon and star carved into them?'

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"Hallo and bonjour to you, mate. Yeah, we got attacked by them and slaughtered them all. Wait, you said thirty? This was only five.." He turned back to his men. "Get fifteen more men with those three that just left, and hurry!" He turned back to the newcomer. "You are Italian, ja? How fares the pope? We haven't heard much in this Godforsaken fortress."

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"The Pope is fine," muttered Father Bernard, "But I suspect that your men may not be. They are not ready for battle, and yet you send them against the Moors? Is this a wise course, Sir?"

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~ "Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree."

~ "The best way to fight the devil, if not with holy scripture, is to jeer at him - for he can not stand to be scorned."

~ "An atheist is just a person God hasn't met yet."

"Templars are always ready for battle, Father. Come, let us go to the citadel and get some sleep, eh?" Carsten said, walking towards his chambers from the practicing grounds.

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'Sir, if you send men against those Moors outnumbered then you most likely send them to their deaths. I would suggest an immediate and urgent sweep of the area... Or at least strengthen your guard on this place.'
He immediately got back on his horse and left to follow the men that the Knight had sent out, leaving only that piece of advice.
'Captain, stay here and advise these men on what to do if they are attacked. Robert, stay with me.' He said quickly to the two men with him before riding away.

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Van Hellsing Detective Agency - Hiring again!

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.
If You Have Already Abandoned Hope, Please Disregard This Signature.

"Obviously he has no idea what a Templar is..." Carsten mumbled, arriving at the guest's chambers. He led the bishop to it, ordered a washbasin to be brought, and went back to his room, looking at the stump of his finger. "That.. hurts." He called for a physican to take a look at it.

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