The blistering cold is finally thawing, as the light penetrates through the icy atmosphere of the independent village of Erathor. But a single gust of wind dare howl over the the hills through the woods, as life is beginning to thrive abundantly in this once forsaken vicinity.
Where doth this light originate from, other than the omnipotent presence of the wandering Paladin in the distance? Brighter than the sun, his presence fills the area with hope, and restores hope in the eyes of the beholding country folk whom he passes.
"How long has it been... How long have I yet to revel in thy magnificence, until it is obliterated from my sight?" The paladin reasons with himself, in awe before his place of maternal origin.
The town folk's gaze is immediately pulled towards the knight in radiating plate, their eyes seemingly blinded by it's brilliance.
"What doth thou seek in our noble settlement?" A woman queries.
"Are you here to beat the baddies, mister?" A small boy asks.
He merely smiles at them and strides forth towards Town hall.
"Arthazai! It's been a long time, lad." The paladin halts abruptly when passing the Tavern.
"Bronzebane. How are you keeping up, old friend?"
A sturdy dwarf in animal hide armour, and a beard nearly touching the floor, emerges from the door
"What bring's Ya back to our beloved home?" Bronzebane strokes his beard.
"I am not to divulge any information regarding why I am here, but for you my old friend, I am more than glad to make an exception."
They proceed forth beside the Tavern's hearth, reminiscing about old times along the way.
"So, them 'High-council' sent ya 'ere, eh?" Inquires Bronzebane.
"I am to complete an exorcism on the town's graveyard. Great unholy forces have gathered under this village... I fear that my arrival may be of no use; the unholy forces may have already gathered too thoroughly for me to dispel."
Bronzebane takes a sip from his pint of lager.
"Well lad, then I shouldn't hold ya up any longer, Get going!"
Arthazai and his long time friend greet each other and Arthazai sets forth towards the graveyard.
Suddenly, an icy cold shiver, even in this thawing cold, creeps slowly up on Arthazai's spine. He strides with haste.
"This information will suffice..." escapes the lips of a nearby spectre of demonic intention...
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Just a quick story I conjured for anybody seeking inspiration out there
