Watcher Jordan kept his steady pace, walking along the road leading west out of Darkshire. The lanterns swayed with the gentle breeze and shone their light down on the road as the militiaman walked beneath their glow. The wind caused the leaves on the trees to rustle slightly, providing a lulling background noise to the watcher’s march.
He was just to the edge of town when he heard the scream. It was piercing and filled with terror, causing the hairs on the watcher’s arms to stand on end. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to the direction where it seemed that the cry had come from. Almost immediately, he heard the sound of boots from behind him. Turning back towards town, he saw Watcher Mocarski running towards him with his hand tightly holding onto the grip of his sword.
“Did you hear that?” Jordan asked.
“Sure did,” Mocarski replied. “Turned my blood cold.”
“Sounded like it came from the Jensen’s place. Go get the captain and a couple more of the fellows. I’m heading over there to check on it.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Mocarski responded. “I got a feeling something bad is going on.” With that, the watcher turned and ran back into the town, raising the call to arms as he went.
Watcher Jordan took a deep breath and then turned his attentions back to the farm house further off. Cautiously, the militiaman began jogging towards where he thought the scream had come from.
"All good stories start with a murder..."
Oh no! I like how concrete this entry is, compared to the one describing the house and the setting there. Nice.
Look out Night Watch!! :D