[sblock=Rufus at the campfire]Rufus approached the men, gathered around a nearby campfire. They appeared to be charring meat on the flames and drinking something that looked like wine, but smelled more like vinegar.
The men stopped their conversation for a spell, and looked at the newcomer. They were all plainly dressed, still in their armour and their weapons at their sides. Not particularly clean and not particularly handsome, and most probably - not particularly smart. But like all men of the trade of war, they enjoyed swapping stories over their cups and this is one of the few pleasures they could have in this camp. Naturally, there were no whores following this army of Paladins.[/sblock]
[sblock=Rufus]The woman doesn't relax visibly when Rufus introduces himself. In fact, she had not seemed tense at all. But she smiles, and that smile is so inviting, Rufus almost feels that all the other women he has met thus far, have been naught but sulky fishwives.
Her hair is wavy, raven black and shiny in the silvery moonlight that creeps trough the open flap of his tent. Her skin is pale, delicate and smooth, like a cross between milk and a silk shoal. Her voice is also smooth, and with a low, tender sound, but her words come out somehow strange. For one such as Rufus, who has spent much of his time listening to the tales of the locals of many of the rural areas around Muirlane, he immediately recognizes her accent as one that is archaic and that had not been in use in the past century at least.
"It is truly a brave man that who behaves as a gentleman of honor, even when taken unawares by a stranger in his own tent. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rufus. My name is Vivian, and I apologize for sneaking in uninvited. In my defence, you had not claimed this tent as your own when I entered it." - she throws Rufus a smile and continues abruptly. - "But these are formalities soon forgotten, I am sure."
Vivian smiles again, and runs her fingers trough the back and sides of her head, lifting the great wavy waterfall of black locks and letting it fall on her shoulders once more, rearranged.
"I shall be blunt, as time is of the essence. You are headed for the Valley of the Dead. Such a dreadful name, that. Most nobody remembers the old name any more. But this is besides the point. You are all headed for the Valley, and plan to open the door and enter it. And... How to put it?"
She pauses and purses her red lips for a moment, before continuing with a serious expression:
"You will all be slaughtered."
She drops the words, and regards Rufus for his reaction, but continues as she nimbly jumps and plops herself atop a wooden chest, tucking her legs beneath her and joining her index fingers before her chest. For a moment, Rufus is about to drown in the sight of the great cleavage, but he swiftly shakes such thoughts from his head.
"Is there any chance for this army to be turned back? For you, and your superiors, to be discouraged from such action?"
Her voice is hopeful and sweet, but there is also a flicker in her eyes. She is not tense, even as she speaks of an upcoming massacre, but it is obvious this issue means a great deal to her.[/sblock]
[sblock=Geryk]The men are named Henry and John, and the woman is named Jemma. Henry is tall, lean and of visible age between thirty and forty. He wears four days' stubble on his chin, at least, and carries a longsword on his belt. He is brown eyed and has a face as common as they get.
John is younger, broader of shoulder and almost as tall. He has dirty blonde hair, grey eyes and carries a mace and a shield. Jemma is a young woman, her hair red as fire, her eyes blue and large. She is not what one would call a beauty. Her face is too broad, her nose too meaty, and her teeth are crooked. But she has a spirit to her, and she laughs frequently. She does not appear to be armed.
"One of our ilk got gutted in the temple square today. Ferviel saved his life, and from a stomach stabbing that I've seen take many a men to the afterlife. When I saw Lathander's energy cure a bag of
such as Marek, I knew that He is truly a good god."
Henry speaks with a raspy voice, and his companions nod in agreement. Jemma opens her mouth to reveal her teeth, each with it's own direction and idea of where to point to.
"Aye, that he is. You know, I prayed really hard. I means really, really hard. And I think He answered me prayers, glory be ta Him! I didn't see Lathander, no I ain't good enough for such things. But I got a moment of clarity, ya know? What's it called?"
"A revelation." John says solemnly and nods in approval.
"That's right! A revel...netion... What John said! Well I got inspired ta do something with me life. I used ta worship Tymora, in hopes I gets good luck and strike it rich. But no more, I've found a purpose greater than meself, greater than gold!"
They all look to Geryk, as if he will start preaching right then and there. The fervor in their voices and zeal in their eyes is unmistakable to him as a cleric, they have earnestly converted to the faith of the Morninglord.[/sblock]