Act 2: The duchy of Drevnedub

Closimir visually eyes the special sword in an effort to determine exactly what
As a bard, my choice of weapons is rather limited
type of sword it is, not it's magical properties. He also asks Burven, "Did you learn anything from your examination?"

"Give me a minute... Burven grasps the sword in one hand firmly, and closes the eye not covered by the monocle. Drifting a hand over it, he seems to be playing it like a lute with invisible strings. To his eyes however, streams of color start to drift and show more solidly as he settles them in more familiar patterns and says to himself, just about inaudibly What do you do?

As the lines start to fill into familiar patterns, Burven starts to speak up, then coughs, and continues "The blade is enchanted to be frosty and strike extra hard at those evil beings. It's a more powerful blade innately than most I've seen, but additionally, it's almost twice as strong against demons and devils."

"Nice blade Closimir." Kain says, patting the Bard on the back "Now I'm getting some shut eye before it's my turn to take watch."

The warrior takes his leave and returns to his bed roll.

He pauses, looking up at the former 'Doc', then stepping away, he tucks that monocle back away after gingerly laying the sword down.

Summoning up his courage, he pulls Kain aside before he can get to his bedroll, and unhitches a scabbard from under his cloak. Holding it out to him Burven says quietly "Carry this for me. I'll need it in time, but for now it's best held by a swordsman. Not a failed smith."

The blade is the one he swung to cut one down as he came from the Tower.

Kain looks from the blade to the boy and back again.

"Lad. You'd best keep that. It was given to you to help you protect the girl, not to me. I'm sure you can wield it well enough, and with a bit of training you'll get better in no time."

Kain looks to his own sword, the weathered and aging leather on the handle was due for replacement.

"My blade works well enough. Though I will carry your blade if you insist, but you're better off using it and getting used to it."

Burven runs a quick hand through his hair, then puts it back on the sword, still offering it out. "If you think best I wield a blade, I'd hold another in stead. This...this is too powerful. Too cold for me."

As the second watch is ended and the third commences, and the sky is starting to brighten awaiting the rise of the sun, you suddenly hear something large coming up the road

What does the sound "sound like"? Clattering of hooves? carriage? shuffling of feet? grumbling and growling of men? Animals?

As you listen closely, it seems to be the sound of big feet, more precisely four big feet moving in your direction at a slow pace, kicking up loose stones and breathing heavily

Closimir nudges the swaybacks into a slow walk and pulls the wagon off the side of the road, hiding it if at all possible; keeping it out of the way if not. He will place the holy blade about his waist, unless someone else says differently. In the meantime, the bard will strain his eyes and ears in an attempt to determine what or whom approaches.

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