Kanash, Lord of Rutyr, placed his heavy helmet on the balcony. Cold, silvery steel rang as it landed. A polished and beautiful work, the smith that forged it had told him it was a masterpiece, the lightest and strongest helmet he had ever forged. The smith too it as an honor for him to wear it. Kanash was grateful, and had worn it proudly. But now, it seemed to weigh him down like a millstone. For 50 years and more, Kanash and worn this helmet into battle and emerged unwounded. But now, it would not be lifted. A great burden was on him, and he stumbled back inside. Falling onto the bed, gasping for air as his heavy armor crushed him, he tried to remember what had happened. Then it came back: her. “Witch! You made a promise!” The soft and lustful voice of Lolth whispered in his ear. “Oh I did, dear. You haven’t completed your part of the bargain yet.” “No! I… I can’t. She means the world to me!” “What will it be, Kanash? Victory in battle or her fleeting life? You will decide, or die from the guilt.” He could tell Lolth had vanished, and was left alone, breathing fast and weak. No, he couldn’t kill her. She was everything to him. His buttercup, his precious. But… the power to save those he couldn’t… Heaving, Kanash pulled himself off the bed. It seemed every step that he burned with rage, rage at Lolth, rage at.. Buttercup? No, not her, not her! He almost collapses to the floor again, then focuses his rage once again. If not at her, then he would hate the Demon Queen. Trudging through the halls of his palace, every step brought back strength into his being. His hatred was glowing, growing, and his heart felt… warm. Full, complete, like a log was burning. Stepping into the garden, he spotted her in her favorite yellow dress. He remembered ordering the material, the fortune that it had cost, her happiness upon receiving it. His heart almost wavered, but the rage steadied him. Walking tall, he approached her. She loved him, and knew him well. Her eyes betrayed her suspicions: something was wrong. His eyes were filled with rage, then drowned in tears. He collapsed into her arms, and couldn’t make a single sentence. Trying to comfort him, she asked what was wrong. In that very moment, his eyes were green for the last time. A single blue fleck in his eyes startled her, then grew and grew into a flame. His eyes were like blue flames burning into her soul. Pure agony flowed through him as he stood up, and unsheathed his flail. Once a silver, shining symbol of truth, he drew forth a spiked, black weapon. He swung, and Lolth was pleased with Ashkan, her knight of Agony. [spoiler]This should be the start of a short series where I give the origin of the death Knights in my event. hope y'all like it![/spoiler]