I don’t know you, and I don’t want to.
I’ve been ordered to do this, and I do as I am told. Befriending you is not a requirement.
Yes, I was a Knight once -- “of noble blood”, whatever the hell that means. I died fighting for my family, for a king that I barely remember. I won him a glorious stack of rocks on a hill that no longer exists. That seems to be my fate; I bleed for those of royal blood. And those of lower birth? I make them bleed for me.
Hell, it’s no different with the gods – is it?
What I wouldn’t give to forget all of this and go back to the blissful ignorance of mortality.
Oh, to joust again! The trumpets and the pennants and the ale and the whores and the blood and the piss. All of it. To wrap myself in the lie, convince myself I was fighting for something that matters.
Nobility. Honor. Justice. Nothing more than words.
Enough talk. Tell me of this man we are to kill. When we find him, you hold him down. I’ll pronounce him guilty and then run him through with my blade.
I am a Knight, after all.
The old Guinecean smiles warmly at the invitation to adventure. He rises from the table, one paw closing on the hilt of his blade, the other hitching up his belt and scabbard. Eyes heavy from countless wars, he lifts his shield and steels himself for the march ahead and the battles sure to follow.
The Moon Elf stands looks down over the fallen citadel, the home of his youth lies scattered before him. He holds his blade aloft, a silent tribute to the life he once lived and the queen he once loved.
The young warrior smiles, his eyes shining with the confidence of youth and nobility. He drops the visor of his plate helm over his face, draws the flickering torch before him and strides into the darkened corridor of the ancient tomb.
A hallmark of feudal society, Knighthood is typically bestowed on men and women noble birth, binding them by oath to protect the land, the people and the crown. A lifetime of martial study makes these noble warriors a favored choice of the gods -- unfortunately, however, this code of ethics is rarely honored in the years following death as memories fade and loyalties are tested.