“Reduced to this…”

He grunted an affirmation, turning the cobblestone corner with the rotted hooves of his once beautiful horse clacking. Clop, clop. Clop, clop. The creature had no hindquarters. Rather, her flanks disintegrated toward the backside, floating eerily, defying the laws of God.

The warrior himself was no better. Once a king among men, he had fallen and rose again to the will of dark forces. His flesh had long been stripped from his bones, and those bones bleached with the blood of his fellows. A wild mane of black hair was the only truly living tissue left on his person.

Heartless, he still felt rage in his empty chest. His country was long gone, and yet he was summoned to fight, to protect… something. The towers and spires that punctuated these ruins seemed of little importance, but still they bound him here. There would be something coming, and the hushed and cryptic whispers told him it would be his task to stop it.

Even in death, he was not one to turn down a challenge.