Jonas looked down. "We've all done things we're not proud of, brother. I was very brash then myself, barely sixteen years old." He didn't look like he was younger than thirty; with the hard lines of weariness and travel marking his face, and his short black hair salted with gray and white, he looked closer to mid-forties. "I've learned a lot since then. I've had a lot of time to... reflect." Indeed, he had roamed the lands for the last decade, putting the souls of evil mortals, undead, & demons alike to rest. "And I still think I was right to pursue a more aggressive approach," he said as he folded his arms behind his back, a small teasing smile on his face. The older friar had always been cautioning him to be more levelheaded and careful in the past; advice he had rarely headed.
He led them a little further on. "There's a church up ahead where we can rest the night, unless it's been destroyed since the last time I walked these paths. About a year ago, I think." He pointed at a darker shadow on the horizon, at the edge of the cliff. "I am certain that that castle was not there. Nor did I see any signs of one being built." Weaver turned to the four. "I have the feeling that it is where we'll find the answers to everything." He looked from Greenmoore to the other three.
"I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners. My name is Jonas Weaver. Brother Greenmoore and I hail from Mistbridge monastery, in the mountains far to the west of here. Although I am a priest it would probably be more accurate to say that I am a vampire hunter." He inclined his head respectfully to Daniel, Frenz, and Wymar. Interesting... that one wears an unusual garment, he thought, looking at Frenz's cloak.