The Shepherds' Watch

[Malaroth]

Astride their tall mounts, men and horses clad in hammered, polished plate armor made their way down Myrkentown's streets and avenues amidst the mild, perpetual metallic complaints of their heavy gear. Each breastplate and shield charitably reflected back the occasional torch and lantern light that graced the painfully polished surfaces to illuminate the coat-of-arms emblazoned there: a shepherd's staff surrounded in growing, budding ivy.

The heavy, relaxed pace of the horse's hooves scuffed down into narrow alleys and each knight was sure to keep a mailed hand near the weapon of choice at his side. Some ten men strong, the heavily armored cavalry made their presence known every evening shortly following Zayken's perverse declarations of war and perfection. Their lightly armored brethren rode during the day, prepared for conflict but both bands also armed with diplomacy and character, to urge strangers and those bent on ill-intent to return to their homes rather than remain outdoors or risk legal wrath.

[Malaroth]

The Knighthood's ultimate goal was to combat those terrors that were rare in other lands and devastatingly common to Myrken Wood: an answer to the sorcerous, demonic and otherwise unique threats the citizenry had faced entirely too much of. Though they had far to go in achieving readiness to truly do battle with such monstrosity on its own ground every knight was forced to undergo strict training in matters of concentration, endurance and personal anti-magical training. A magic user who attempted to enchant a knight would find a mind as sharp as a blade, as solid as plate armor. A sorceress who sought to turn a knight's metal to fire or water would find the knight's ownership of such attire bound into his, or her, very blood.

With this precision of mind and honing of the body, the Grand Master trained his knights thusly to be ready for the Zayken creature.

Among distant steppe lands, sometimes dismissed as primitive, the nomads are horse-masters. They sit more in the saddle more than they eat, sleep, or breathe. And int he saddle they carry stout bows that they might, at a full gallop, turn, aim and fire with deadly accuracy. It is a difficult task for armored men, who are reduced from full plate to study chain mail, and yet they attempt it all the same: to ride in constrictive circles, aiming and firing, meeting mobility with mobility, and ready to deal carnage at close range with sword and axe.