A disgraceful marauder, armored head to toe in heavy armor of steel, stood weary beneath the smog covered skies of horrors untold. He postured up, ailed by a miasma of blood, death and rot. His armor ungleaming, stripped bare of any glory. He was a questing merchant of blood and war, unphased by the malicious nature of his charge. The earth, obscured, nay eclipsed, by the swathes of cadavers littered across the trampled ground. The solitary life amongst the dead dragged on, dropping a battered shield to the ground and sheathing a battle worn blade to his hilt. Banners fluttered and danced above, a stark contrast to the stillness of the scene below. The dishonored Knight of ill repute looked beyond, to the horizon, all he saw was fire and pestilence as far as the eye could see, but before he collapsed once more, his body almost giving out to the weight of his own armor, he thought quietly, of what treasure may yet lie beyond, what glittered beyond the illness…What purpose could be acquired…

Written by : Marcos Lopez 3/15/2020