Herald — Roleplayer Guild

Khaylan looked at the stout woman, a strangely dead look in his eyes. "You're right... I wouldn't."

He turned, the dizziness still present and a pounding in his skull. It seemed a titanic effort to call the other two knights to his side and walk away, throwing a last look over his shoulder at Miranda. what have I done?

He trudged onwards, fighting back the urge to fall unconscious, at least until they could make it back to the horses near the village's tavern. As his brother knights followed at his side, he could almost hear the wheels turning in their minds as they surely began to plot against him. And to think, he had damned his soul to join their ranks. What irony.

Khaylan ran into something barring his path, nearly knocking him from his feet. The fog in his mind was pushed back by a wave of outrage that something was delaying his rest even further until he noticed that he had run into the outstretched arm of one of his companions. Looking past the arm, Khaylan noted a group of four men standing next to three large familiar looking horses. The new group of men all wore traveling cloaks, obscuring much of their forms, but Khaylan could see the scars of burns given to those who had been found guilty of robbery on more than one of their faces.

"Good evening gentlemen," one of them said, approaching Khaylan. "Am I right to assume these are your horses? Its your lucky day my friends, these horses were about to run off but we fine folk stepped in and held them for you"

The man grinned at Khaylan, already eyeing his sack of gold. Khaylan's strength was slowly returning, and with it came his anger for the witches... and his own... actions.

"Then we thank you noble sirs, if our horses had run off, we might have had to walk him throughands roving with outlaws," Khaylan said dryly, clearly not buying their stories. "It is such a bother to kill so many men just for a walk home. Unfortunately many only see our oversized coins and not our swords."

The man's companions shifted uncomfortably at Khaylan's words, no longer as certain as they once were. The man who approached him, however, seemed in control of the rest and was unfazed. He'd likely heard such boasts a thousand times before.

"Ah well, if my lord wishes, we will relieve him of the burden of so many coins then. After all, it is our civic duty to help those in need, is it not?" The man said, making a small gesture with his hands. His three companions drew their weapons, two appeared to be holding short swords, not a very big threat to a knight, but what made Khaylan shift uncomfortably in his armor was the contraption the third man held. A crossbow. At this range it would pierce his armor like paper.

Khaylan considered his next move carefully, then seemed to slump his shoulders in submission. He reached for the sack at his waist, untying it and holding it out for the other man to take. The outlaw grinned, victory in his eyes as he stepped forward and moved to take the bag.

Khaylan smiled, throwing the bag up into the air and drawing his sword in one smooth motion. The steel blade crashed through the sack of gold, splitting it open and spreading coins everywhere as it continued its arc, slicing deeply into the other man's forearm and bringing a shriek of pain and rage.

Swords clashed as his fellow knights rushed forward, Khaylan kicking his opponent in the chest and sending the man sprawling to the ground. Shouting a battle cry, he charged the man with the crossbow, nimbly ducking under a hastily aimed and panicked shot.

"You only had one shot and you wasted it friend," Khaylan growled as he closed the distance sword descending in an arc of fury for the outlaws neck. The man wisely abandoned the crossbow, throwing it at Khaylan and buying himself the half second he needed to draw a crudely made dagger from withinhis cloak. Steel rang on steel as the sword was barely deflected by the man's desperate defense. The outlaw stood no real chance however, not against a knight.

Khaylan laughed and cut downwards once more, this time anticipating the man's defense. As the dagger came up to catch the sword, Khaylan stepped closer, placing a leg behind his opponents and grabbing the mans shoulder with his free arm. Khaylan twisted throwing the man bodily over his hip and slamming the outlaw onto the ground. His sword followed a moment later, burying itself in the man's heart.

Khaylan stood, and a spear of pain inflamed his chest as an impact nearly spun him around, dropping him to his knees. He gasped in pain as a crossbow bolt seemed to sprout magically from his shoulder, blood pouring from the wound. He blinked in surprise, his mind trying desperately to catch up with what he was seeing as his lifeblood seep end from the rent in his armor....

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