Horse's hooves shoveled through the thick marsh as it let out large stale exhales, each breath powerful and filled with on going strength. Never did the stallion slower himself from moving forward as mud and moldy grass stuck heavily to his dark coat. This never gave the horse false hope, for him and his master have been through far worse environments before. Blizzards, blistering deserts, and even into the wild mysterious Forest of Many Wonders. Old memories were one thing that haven't changed in Godric's forgotten soul.
Sorin, known in other lands as the Plague Steed, lived well by its name. His shoulders were built like iron and his coat was black as its animated heart. A prize, a resurrection from a friend, or perhaps a master? Though Godric never followed any true rules and laws but his own, which could be a flaw, or perhaps a merit of leadership. He was a leader, a commander, and was once many years ago a holy man with a wife.
That was all changed now. Everything about him was different. His thoughts, his beliefs, and even his appearance were not the same as they would of been over a hundred years ago. Once long locks of golden hair were now life stricken and lifeless, tainted with absent and age. His eyes no longer blue, but were also drained of life and remained a lifeless gray, and would be so for eternity. His skin won and cold, leaving him a dreary man. What kept him alive? Was it a spell of a dark Necromancer, or was it from his own treachery, his own will to bring vengeance to this world for what its done to him? Perhaps it was a curse, a constant reminder for his sins and betrayal of not only his king but his god.
God, he no longer meant anything to Godric. He was a father who betrayed one of his most loyal sons, bringing a dagger to his back. God took from him everything he loved, everything he lived for... So he did the same for him. God watched his King die, watched his kingdom burn, and watched his palaces burn from the hands of the deceased. This was the price of God's betrayal... The Father had no power over him. Not anymore...
He was not a Paladin, but the core opposite, a Death Knight. He was Godric Vrowl' Ravanosk, the Bringer of Vengeance. If refuge was given to him, why couldn't he do the same for others like himself? Open their minds to a whole new world, make them realize that they themselves can make a change. Why continue to hide in sorrow, or cower in fear?
Godric's strong brow lowered into a glare as he gazed through the thick fog while his companion Sorin continued to march. The Knight was fully armed, armored from head to toe in black steel plate, embedded with spikes and dark art. Not often did he leave his grounds, but for this certain event, he had a plan. A call, a cry for help passed his eyes from a parchment he found on some dead travelers that came a little too close to his well guarded marsh.
***
To any wishing to help us. A beast has been attacking our cattle and has even gone as far to killing some of the local farmers. The militia and commands of Corone will not assist us of this dreadful creature. We are not engineered for combat, so ask for the help to any who can assist us in the small village of Noroe. Us locals will give all the gold we can offer if you can slay this beast and give our small village peace once and for all.
***
Noroe was probably a three day travel, but for Godric, perhaps a day and a half. The man needed no rest, nor food for nourishment to burden him on his quest. Even Sorin could continue without the need for rest. Why, what was it that mankind cherished living so much, when being dead could be so powerful? They feared the afterlife, a hell so to call it. Well, little did they know there was an escape to it all. A way out.
Upon arrival, Godric would seek out Noroe's local tavern of gossip, and receive the details of how this creature came about, and where he could likely find it. Once the Knight would 'smite' this creature, he'd take his gold and be on his way. Well, maybe..
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