The question hanged in the air, causing a clear discomfort in Manoth. “Because,” he hesitated. “I believe you can be saved.” The nameless knight removed his helm, showing a clear look of insult on his mangled face. “How can one be saved from this?! Without the blessing of the gods, no mortal has ever returned from death… and the few in recorded history that -have- returned were hollow shells of their former selves!”
Manoth nodded, and cleared his throat. “Good sir, I will not lie to you. Your death is certain.” The knight put his helmet back on and sighed. “Then you wasted your efforts…” As the knight reached down, Manoth moved again with inhuman speed and strength, taking the swords from him. “If this is how you wish to end, I will not stop you again, but I beg you to hear me.” Manoth began collecting tinder. “The curse you carry… it is an unnatural occurrence. Tell me how you became like this.”
The knight watched as Manoth began building a small fire. “I was a Knight of Honor under King Rohan III. He hosted a tournament of champions amongst all the human settlements in the known world. The prize was anything that was in his power. At the time, men of noble heritage were the only allowed participants.” Manoth nodded, “And as a Knight of Honor, you were unable to participate.”
Looking up from the flames, the nameless knight continued. “Yes. I was gifted my title for a service to the king when I was younger. The tournament was glorious. Men of all banners came and fought for the prize, but only one showed uncouth behavior. I never knew where he came from. Only that his banner was a green dragon, flanked by daggers, on a field of black.” Manoth nodded as he continued to listen and stoke the flames.
“He won, decisively. He approached the king, holding a letter in his hands. And when he presented it to him, he declared it was from an old friend of his grandfather.” The knight clenched his hands tightly, and strained under the force of his own anger as he spoke. “The fiend waited to draw his blade as the king opened the letter, and when he went for the kill, I intervened and took the blade to my heart. His strength was inhuman. It cut through my armor as if it was parchment. Feeling the world slip away, I drew my own blade and stabbed him in the neck, to weaken him for the coming guards.”
Manoth looked horrified. “You survived?! Friend, you have the luck of the gods!” The nameless knight looked on at him then removed his breastplate. “I do not agree, Manoth.” The stench of decay flooded the area. Manoth covered his nose and mouth to clear his lungs. As he turned back, the knight showed him his body. “Look here elder, I rot as the dead, yet I live. How can you call this luck?”