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The knight-turned-brigand dreams of fire. He feels the weight of a mailed tabard upon his shoulders; he remembers his heavy blade hewing through his former comrades, their bodies now crumpled within the embers of their completed work.
He clutches the hand of a rot-scarred child.
"Come. You are spared, but now we are both forsaken."
"...if only I could only forsake regret..."
>[ADMONISHMENT] [Riskier but decisive]
>[FORGIVENESS] [Conservative but hesitant.]
>[HONOR] [CHARACTER SPECIFIC]
+++
The next morning, the disgraced knight strides slowly and purposefully towards the snow-heavy treeline, his heavy blade polished; his moss-green cloak bleached bone-white. His warm breath billows ice crystals into the dawn-air.
He turns his head to find:
>[NOBODY]
>[GUIDANCE/SACRAMENT] His daughter [-2 FAITH]
>[GUIDANCE/SACRAMENT] The hunter [-2 FAITH]
>If anyone wants to tiebreak between the tents and the wagon, please do. Otherwise, I will roll for it.
