Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25038310-20160209213345/@comment-25038310-20160303163448

As the Undead pondered on what to do and how to get a fire and a camp going, a loud verse could be heard from behind them, back on the path that they had taken to ascend to the top of the hill they were currently on. From the sound of it, it belonged to a young man. It was sung in a melancholic way, as if he was muttering to himself rather than singing.

"When Murk encroaches

Abello grants a sign,

When Fog approaches,

He gives thee a rhyme,

Sing with me,

Cast away ire,

Sing with me,

So you may never tire.

A bright young fellow,

And creatures white as snow,

down at the hill so low,

A fearful sight now,

But later an easy chore.

A wretched spawn lured by someone,

Not easily, and unfortunately,

their tracks will not be undone."

If one would look back, they would notice the travelling poet, clad in grey plate armor. He was light on his feet and did not carry many possessions, although the motif of his attire was notably different from the knight they had encountered in the hollow forest. The man only carried a shortsword, which suited his needs for weaponry fine by the looks of it. Dangling on his belt was a small black soulgem, and the piece of cloth that rested beneath his chin and on his shoulders was blue and  white.

As the knight slowly climbed up the hill, following the tracks the Undead had left, he looked up at them as he waved, rather curiously and surprised.

"Why greetings!" The man yelled up at the the fellowship on top of the hill. "Now please, do not be alarmed. I do not wish to harm anyone, most certainly. I am merely another traveller such as yourselves." He explained, sheathing his sword. The knight did not seem all too threatening at all, and his voice sounded merry and uplifting.

"And I see you have, wisely, chosen not to interfere with those blasted creatures. A wise choice, befitting of wary wanderers such as you."

((With this introduction, here is Part II!))