Shortly after the arrival of the Necromancer a heavy rain started up and night fell over the rouge encampment. From the wooden spiked gate the sound of pangs on metal could be heard echoing out loudly with each drop of rain that fell. Eventually the small torch light that fell on the dark skinned man reflected in his metal plated armor and a paladin came into view as he set foot on the rouge homeland. His dark brown eyes that matched his skin roamed the area while he slung his large gold and white kite shield over his back. Not long ago he had been in the battle that defeated King Leoric's army and now he was on the trail of the traitorus wanderer. Drops of rain rolled off his bald head as he walked past the wagon that was being manned by a wicked Necromancer and his undead servants. Sir Peters right hand stayed firmly held to the warhammer he had become so accustomed to using all that time ago.<br/><br/>Coming to a fire pit he sat down on a carved out log that was clearly made to be a bench to sit on. Never before had he seen such amazing beauties as the ones here in the rouge encampment, he found it hard to remember his vows of honor the to stay holy in this tempting place. He licked his lips as the scantily leather clad women walked by on their patrols of the area. He wondered if they could do more than handle a bow and arrow with there soft delicate looking hands. Picking up his hammer and shield he wandered about the camp politely introducing himself and asking about the going on's of the area hoping to find a lead on the "Dark Wanderer."