Despite everything, still he continued. Bleeding from his an innumerable amount of cuts and gashes, his blood marked where he had walked in a crimson path that trailed behind him. “Repent.” He coughed up blood, spitting it to the side and continued. “Repent for your sins.” Raising a crossbow to his shoulder, he stopped swaying for long enough to level it at his target. The flickering light from the pyre behind him showed him looming over his target, Goliath looming over David. Standing, frozen in fear, a young boy cried silently. Then the tall stranger loosed his bolt, and the boy cried no more.
The man left the room, his tall, dark form becoming visible in the moonlight. His features were harsh, but not ugly. There was evidence of a rugged life, some scarring, however he was not disfigured. No one would call him handsome or pleasant to look at. He was tall, a full six foot; he was broad and muscular. His long dark hair fell over his shoulders from under a large weather beaten leather hat. He wore a large leather jacket, under which could be seen the faint gleam of a tarnished suit of chain mail. At his hip was an empty scabbard, and a quiver of bolts was slung over his shoulder.
Walking away from the building, he smiled in satisfaction of a job well done. No heretics or sorcerers remained in this den of evil. However, he knew that he had to continue, this cult was rooted into the populace, and it must be removed, with faith and with fire. The Symbol of The Three burned at his back, and he turned crossbow reloaded, searching for a target. A wounded bird flew from one of the flaming buildings, and he took aim. Rumour had it these sorcerers and witches could change into the form of beasts. He fired his bolt, but it wasn’t true, and missed by a small margin. The bird was gone before he could reload. Scowling, he turned away from the burning village and walked on.
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