Brok didn't like horses. They didn't really like him either. The others on the quest were mostly riding, so he had to jog for most of the road between the two towns.
No one had called it a quest. Brok called it a quest inside his own head. The small band heading west to Chelthan were going for a variety of reasons. There were nearly a dozen of them and the most common reason was that the church was paying.
Brok would take the coin; he needed it. His armour was basic leather that didn't properly fit his huge frame. His sword was a short sword for a human and more like a long dagger to him. He was here for the adventure and because he didn't understand how knighthood worked. He thought that if he did enough deeds then someone would give him a title.
The town slowly came into view. According to the story a third of the town had been abandoned. They had all moved far away from the church. Strange noises came from that place every night. Lights flared through the stained glass windows. The sacred ground had been defiled by something. The town guard who had gone there had not returned.