Crusader's Remorse

[Thall]

The soft sound of crunching snow struggled to fill the windswept night, the howling gale carrying the quiet prickling sound and hoof trot off into the sweet oblivion. Heated breath turned into vapor around the wayward Templar's lips. He clenched his horse's reins tightly as an icy rain began to fall from the heavens. Almost like a celestial curse, it began to batter his already worn suit of armor. His fur cloak did nothing to stop the damp, chill shower that began to fall over the wood. Yet, despite all the adversity, his fall and the now inclement weather, the lost inquisitor retained his monastic calm.

...In time they will forgive you... He thought, but it did nothing to comfort him. He was numb, tired and weak, not only from his long ordeal against the Blighted Lord, but from his self-imposed exile as well. Already he had travelled for several weeks away from the borders of Eredware. He was looking lean and hungry, and a fairly thick layer of stubble had grown onto his face.

No, Elyndhor has forsaken you, you have no choice now but to find your own way... The Sun God does not give mercy to those who break their oaths... Another voice said. He sat straight up, looking around the darkened wood. Seeing nothing, he shuddered and quietly mumbled to himself, "I must be going mad..."

His dark eyes directed themselves now to the Broken Dagger, a sight that usually gave him comfort in his long journeys between distant lands and his home. Haar's expression unwavered; however, finding no joy in his reasons for being here this time. He was a man without a home, lost and confused. For the first time in nearly a decade, his life was in pandemonium. The aasimar sighed again, another large ball of steam disappating into the night.

His mind raced as thoughts of how the events during his crusade could have played out differently, but all scenarios ended in the same place -- him here, before this inn that seemed home to all sorts of interesting and fascinating characters. He took a deep breath as he dismounted his stallion and guided the horse into the stables, where a young stableboy took his steed. Haar pulled out a few scant coins to give the boy. Foreign currency, but it was gold nonetheless.

His head hung in shame as he walked into the tavern common area, removing his soaked cloak in the vestibule and hanging it on an empty hook, a small pool of water collecting underneath it.

This was it... his life would begin anew, at least as much as it could here -- his tainted blood would be a great deciding factor in his destiny, and perhaps one day he would seek redemption, but for now... He was all alone.