Ask purpose

You ask the riders of their purpose. The leader of these horse lords, wool clad with hair bunched about a wooden circlet diademed by a single crimson gem, trots forward and hails you with surprising eloquence.

 

“The men in their halls of stone have abandoned the path of the good and chosen to stay neutral in the fight against the dark king of the pit. My host, the last army of maned thanes of old, rides to fight the war against the darkness darkness.”

 

After he utters that final syllable, a chill wind suddenly rustled the ponytails of the riders. You shiver as the distant howling of beasts carries across the breeze. You feel watched.

 

“We cannot dwell here long. Already the armies of the enemy are rallying for their fell purpose. You must be an angel sent from the greater realm to guide our divine purpose. Will you ride  with us to glory?”