“I think we’re getting close to some Night Malefic…” a brown haired knight said excitedly, grabbing the pommel of his sword…ready to strike.
Leonce laughed softly “We’re not anywhere near them, it’s very early in the morning. If we were close to them, we would already be dead.” he paused for a second before giving the knight a mocking grin. “…my lord.”
The knight glares at the scum, his ego slightly smaller now. “I have killed many men and have heard their cries of despair. I am not afraid of some heretical creatures. God will guide me”
And there was his problem, Leonce thought. Not being afraid is foolish, only an idiot would be fearless in the face of supernatural forces. A classic human mistake, thinking we’re invincible or that good will always triumph or whatever the fuck they’ve been fed their whole lives. Leonce knew different, good people die all the time. Good people die lame deaths, good people die without being ever found, good people die shitting their pants. He wondered if this knight was going to shit his pants on the last moments of his death.
The knight makes an exasperated noise when Leonce doesn’t say anything back to him.
“How long until we meet the the guide to get to Stragosa?” the knight sounded impatient, the worst human quality according to Leonce.
“A week at most, my Lord. His timing is very unpredictable.”
Another exasperated sound.
Leonce reminded himself that this knight had offered to pay him silver for taking him to where the guide was to meet everyone, silver was always welcomed; otherwise he would have left this petulant child already. From what he could tell, the knight was of no important house…a self made house by the sounds of it, looking for glory to raise his status. The boy was amused that this knight thought he would find glory in a place like Stragosa, there was only death there…If the knight made it that far…
They came in the dark, like they always did. Leonce had wandered off to find more wood for the fire, the knight had been shivering and complaining…if that shut him up then he would go out of his way to find dry wood for the diminishing flame.
Leonce’s movements stop as he hears a painful yell from where the campfire was. He hears the knight scream for help, Leonce almost pities him as he hears his how bloodcurdling his voice carries through the forest. It sounds like a slow, painful death. He hears the ghouls tear into the flesh…the forest echoes those noises as well.
Poor brave knight, he thinks. He wants to let out a chuckle but that would give away his position. So instead he just sits against a tree, eyes vigilant to any attack. Hands wrapping his bloodstained coat tighter around himself.
It’s freezing cold. He can see his own breath as he tries to stay hidden. He stays awake until dawn comes and listens to make sure there are no groaning sounds close by.
With no danger nearby he gets up and stretches. Arriving at the camp, the boy assess the situation. The death had been more brutal than he thought; body parts everywhere, muscle torn to the bone. The knight’s face looks like it’s been half eaten as well, truly unfortunate.
“He did shit himself…” he said quietly, a soft amusement on his voice as he found the legs of the knight smeared with excrement. Another “hero” gone.
He kneels down to rummage through the knights bag, there he finds his purse.
“You’re not going to need it where you are headed.” He speaks to the half eaten head, which is staring at the sky in frozen horror.
Grabbing his travel bag, he walks quietly towards the pass to Stragosa.