She stands in the rain, her hands still bound, she holds them up to him, “Help a girl out.” In one quick motion, he spins, slides off his horse, his silver blade pointed at… “Shouldn’t you sleep, until the rains are gone…” speaks a soothing, yet sly woman’s voice from behind him. His form is tall and fit, his face unshaven.Īs he trudges forward, the cold northern rains come down upon him… His hair, a grey blond… His eyes a deep, dark blue. On his back, a perfectly round shield, with white trim, and once again, no symbol. …his tabard, white in color, bares no symbol.Īt his side a long silver blade, once belonging to his uncle, a great knight. Sir Stalos himself wears a silver plate/chain mail mix… Sir Stalos is struck for a slight moment, then continues his way to his gray steed Oden, which is tied to a tall tree just outside of camp. Her eyes lock with his as she wipes dirt and blood from her mouth, she smiles with a slight glimmer in her eyes.
Sir Stalos steps out into the camp, behind him a chapel of, not his god, but he finds peace their anyway.Ĭrossing his path are two Paladin’s of The Red Phoenix, one on each side of a shadowy charcoal cloaked young woman, with dark hair and dark eyes, her hands bound by rope. ‘Sir Stalos Kneels Within A Chapel, Of Other Men’s God… Not His
