The wind blew noisily across the Ramparts of the fortress, shuddering the gold banners of King Berenor violently as night descended upon the fortress.

    It was strangely cold, even for an october night, and an uneasy quiet settled over courtyard below. Even the town crier had called it a night due to the unbearable weather. The scarce few guards that remained on duty patrolled long stretches of open wall, and it was no surprise that the robed figure got so close the stone walls before he was spotted.

    "Halt!" came an uneasy, shivering call from the top of the wall. "Who goes there?" asked the shaky, wet-behind-the-ears guard. The robed figure assessed the guard quickly. His sword was on the wrong side of his belt, his cloak was mis-fastened, and the armor adorning his chest bore the dull luster of shoddy second-rate smithing. He was green for sure.

    The robed figure paused only a moment to take in the perched guard before he continued to walk towards the great gates. As he neared, the massive sword on his back became more visible. Its edge gleamed as though doused in darkness itself. The newbie guard yelled into the courtyard below, "Trespasser at the gates!", and was quickly joined by an archer on the wall. Knocking an arrow, he aimed carefully at the robed figure, whom currently glared at the door, trying to find a weakness. The arrow came out of the bow with a loud TWANG, amplified by the brittle cold and silence. As quickly as it took for the archer to release the arrow, so quickly did the robed adventurer vanish into a deep, pitch darkness.

    A loud scream, followed by a massive crash saw the gates of the fortress hewn in two with one enormous blow. The fell warrior had made his full across the courtyard before the guards even spotted him.

    Dawn broke slowly on the walls of the fortress, and a figure robed in pitch black stood at the top of one of the ramparts. Leaned across his shoulder was a great sword, drenched in long-dried blood. Shattered bodies filled the courtyards, arrows littered the ground, along with shattered metal and splintered shields. Countless innocents lie dead in their beds, unable to defend themselves from the dark crusader. It wasn't long before the crusader tired of the view from his perch and left.

    The new guard stood on top of the wall and watched in awe struck horror -- an expression he had held since the first of his friends died -- as the man left. In his hand, he clutched a piece of parchment with a hastily scribbled note written on it. It had the name of the king's brother scrawled on it, and bore the seal of a note that King Berenor had received only one day previous to the massacre.

   And so passed the Great King Berenor. His gold banners, soaked in the blood of his servants. The crusader would return home with a new song to sing.


If you want to learn more about this man you have to rp with him.