As he was cleaning the filth off his sword on the nearest curtain, the crusader spat on the crumbling remains of the demon's head.
He had a light helmet that clung to his ears and covered his forehead. The thin metal was only a meant to cover the many scars that were only half concealed by it.
His beard was several weeks old, it was Brown just like his ears and formed swirls under his jawline. The benches that crowded the main hall had their seats slightly lower than the trios' knee level.
He had a calm aura with strands of spite for the black matter he couldn't get off his blade.
What exited his mouth, instead of being a lullaby of holy poems, turned out to be more of a low eroded snarl. "Who brought this here?" He asked, his eyes scanning everyone wearing a ceremonial dress.
High sister Martha almost jumped off the balcony. The little bit of sense she had let her stand but her hands grabbed each other in a lovely embrace.
