The moment the temple slid over the rise behind them and out of sight may not have been a particularly momentous occurrence, but all the same, it was the junction between who they had been and who they planned to be. From this point forward, they were engaged in Drancedigaeth’s holy mission, whether that be for better or for worse.
It was the first steps towards the rebuild of Arhosa, ones they would likely not live to see. Unless the rewards for service in the afterlife were greater than anticipated. Still, Drancedigaeth had given them purpose, and so they, in turn, gave to him.
The thin belt of farms that fed the temple fell away, and the road changed from solidly patted dirt to rutted roots and stones as the forest rose up and enveloped the landscape around them. Hunted for food and felled for timber, the woods also made a barrier between the temple and the surrounding land, something welcomed by those on both sides of the fence. The local population found the presence of a temple of the deceased to be somewhat unnerving, and long ago the ecclesiasts had decided it was best not to antagonize those with whom they had to reside.
That night they camped under the spreading branches, a roaring fire both comfort and warning to those in the shadows. Few who could not afford to revealed themselves so openly, and the world around them took notice, leaving them to a peaceable night’s sleep.
The next morning saw them arrive at a village, little more than a collection of huts with only a few structures made of anything more permanent than sod and thatch. There was, at least, a basic palisade, with a sole gate manned by a boy barely into his teenage years. Not much, perhaps, but enough against the depredations of yasends and other woodland predators.
The boy’s eyes grew wide and round as Red Harvest’s bulk emerged into view. Shouting at the top of his lungs, he sprinted inside the gate, slamming the thin wood behind him. Presently, a nervous-looking collection of villagers, some too old or too young to be of any true use, were peering over the top rail of the barricade.
Weapons were visible, but mostly old spears, a few bows, and those farming implements that could potentially do damage when swung in the right manner.
It was perhaps not the most auspicious welcome, but no one was pointing a weapon at them directly.
Yet.