The small priest, advancing carefully, reaches for his club and takes it in his hand. He can see shapes of buildings ahead of him, hard edges of darkness in a world that is otherwise grey and soft.
He hears a sound, an oof followed by an apology. He stops, his neck craning about trying to localize the noise. A quick prayer imbues the piece of wood in his hand with supernatural energies. Mr. Aldershot raises his shield, a small wooden circle banded by a rim of steel.
He taps the edge of his shield with the small cudgel he carries, in two sets of three.
tap...tap...tap...
tap...tap...tap...
He hears a sound, an oof followed by an apology. He stops, his neck craning about trying to localize the noise. A quick prayer imbues the piece of wood in his hand with supernatural energies. Mr. Aldershot raises his shield, a small wooden circle banded by a rim of steel.
He taps the edge of his shield with the small cudgel he carries, in two sets of three.
tap...tap...tap...
tap...tap...tap...