Knights of Angels and Days of Yore
Arriving at Villa Vensu Portas
A fortnight ago you rode out of the last sign of civilization. Villa Marga Orbas had a tavern, a store for common adventuring items, and many abandoned buildings. Large circles indicated where the armies of the Angels camped nearly a decade ago. A single caravan camped in one of the circles of sun-baked clay. Its teamsters and guard warriors drank in the tavern while the headmen discussed the rumored dangers of going into Villa Vensu Portas.
Beyond the edge of the killing zone, you followed the Itner de Angel road into the sea of grasses and beyond civilization.
That dusty, rutted road disappeared into the grasses as tall as a war horse’s eye. The wrath of the sun beat down upon you from the moment it cleared the horizon ahead of you and until after it sank below the horizon behind you. With exceptions of copses of trees clustered about natural springs, nothing interrupted the flow of grasses. Nothing poked above their seed ladened peaks.
Despite all of the reasons for speedy travel, progress was slowed almost as if the road despised travelers. Spurring the horses beyond a walk resulted in the road breaking apart into jagged, sloped chucks with holes just deep enough to injure a horse’s leg. Any attempt to push on a bit further resulted in finding that a stream had washed out the road and turned it into slick clay which grabbed feet and resisted letting go. Resolving to get an early start caused a thunderstorm to soak the camp with frigid rain against which the available gear proved to be the poorest of protections. A half day was lost to thaw, dry, and repack all the gear. In the end, only by traveling to the limits of the road did you finally arrive.
At the edge of the infant knight’s lands stood the watch tower built tall with a stone foundation which rose above the height of the grasses. Upon its faces were the markings of the Angels and those of the “old gods.” An unease filled you — was it true those foul “old gods” held sway here? Did the Angels really have to bow and scrape to have any influence here? Such things could not be.
A cool breeze stirred the grasses as you passed the tower. The unrelenting sun eased. And, the road turned smooth, hard, and well maintained.