In Gilneas, the land of rain, there are stories told to every child, even the street-rats and witches tell them. Stories to inspire, to warn, and to soothe, And among them, one stretches back before anyone can tell, a dusty old book in nearly every Gilnean home. The tales of the “Grey Knight”, A nameless, dauntless figure from which children learn the importance of honesty, valor, and honor. Said to even be one they call, the Ageless, a rare kind of human who seemed to live forever. But it was the last tale of the Knight, was a somber one, because the ending was always different. You see the last tale of the Grey knight is unfinished, so the parent would simply improvise, He died valiantly, he was granted a keep of his own and retired, he stole away the lords daughter and escaped into the sunset with his true love. As many endings as generations that heard the stories, even King Greymane heard them as a child, and his father, and his father before him. A tale truly old as time, the last of these, the unfinished work, ended the day the last brick was laid upon the Wall.
The sun rose upon the land, and so rose the Grey Knight, his lord, most just and true had called for his greatest champion, to seek out and destroy evil once again! The Knight bowed before his lord, heading out for battle, His shield worn and battered from timeless strife in the land, known as Order by the common people. His Sword, made of black Gilnean steel, forged by a traveling Elvin smith ages past, and the people called it Nightfall. He climbed atop his black mountain horse, and rode for the lands of an evil lord, who allows such depravity and villainy to go unchecked within his hold. A group of kidnappers hid in the blackwalds western caves, they had driven out the peaceful witches to use their home for their vile practice. But on this day justice rode down upon them, the horse, as well as the man, knew these woods and thorns as they knew their own beating hearts. He slew them, each and every man, the confused looks upon their faces as they were wiped out bringing a puzzled look upon his face, before he turned it to the looming keep.
The lord of the keep had long escaped justice, but that ended as the sun began to set. The grey knight sent his horse away, drawing the still fresh from battle Nightfall, moving up to the keep, kicking the door open, the guards move in to stop him, their steel clashed, blood was spilled, and the knight strode on. The Lords champion, and scoundrel known for his cruelty leaped at the knight, his skill with a blade something to behold, but the blows were easily smacked and parried with the aid of Order, dents and groves made the cutlass of his foe slide off at odd angles. Just as the outlaw was starting to lose ground, he fire off a shot from his pistol, missing the knight, but the smoke from the blast blinded him for a moment, just enough time for the shape cutlass to slicing through the knights helm, just enough to injure the knights eye! The knight growled, sliding back, before tossing off his helm, his eye bleeding, silver hair flowing long in the light breeze through the keep and a scar forming over his face. He rushed in, unrelenting in his pursuit of justice, a swift spin, slamming the shield into the head of the scoundrel, gave him just enough time, to bring Nightfall down, slicing cleanly, through the Scoundrels neck….
He strode triumphant, to the Lord’s throne room, who coward in fear and confusion, shouting in distress “Why are you here!? Ive kept to your masters terms! Why does he send you!?” The knight had no time for his lies, and swiftly drove his own champions cutlass into his wicked heart! the knight worn from battle, limped from the keep, the guards rushing to his aid, he told them to search the castle, find any survivors and arrest them, and bring any of the victims, dead or alive, back to their families. For you see this vile lord, would steal children, with the help of the outlaws, to satisfy is wicked desires. And so the day was won! The Grey knight, picked up his helm, and mounted his horse once more, heading off to his Good lords keep….
And that, is how it ended, how you remember it, as a child of Gilneas may differ. But the truth of what happened, is best left a mystery, for our heroes, no matter how many times the tale is told, can never be defeated.
The bard pauses, looking over the bar, his eyebrow raises as an older patron stands from his seat, a scar over his eye, a dented, nearly broken shield, and a helm, with a weld mark over one of the eye skits. The man pays the bar tab, having only a single gold coin left, before setting it in the bards hat “Keep the spirits lively lad, and remember, legends never die….” The man nods, collecting his things, and makes for the city, before arriving at the war room, and walking up to a very busy Justicar, setting down his helm “I’ve come to join your, Templars.’ he smirks,running a hand through his steel colored hair,as night falls.
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