“I believe you have knowledge to divulge, old friend,” Sharpstar said assertively.
Dogsircore bitterly smirked as he glanced back at the astute leader without any deception burning within. He didn’t want to have this talk, but they deserved the truth, even if it showed his dishonor. Disclosures of such weren’t easy for anyone, much less a creature like himself. Amazingly he lived the life as a half wolf, half man but vivid memories reflected back to a life of a man. This is part of his curse; he hated this and sometimes even hated himself.
“Yes, I believe it is time for such a talk,” replied Dogsircore. Then the most solemn, stone-faced knight astounded his companions. Sharpstar stared as if he was witnessing a friend dying; he never saw such a look of disdain on someone. They look as if a crime was committed and self-admittance was the offender. Dogsircore attempted to open his mouth, but it was completely dry. “This is not a time for weakness, damn me, damn me,” thought the warrior feverishly. His courage soon returned, and with luck, he spoke regardless of his dry mouth and sullen heart, “My life is a poignant one,” remarked Dogsirecore. “My past bears its own burden. My people are a blight of dire self-image and gullibility that extends to the Past Days of Morf.”
He then took a massive breath of air and wisps of manja` weed as he continued his tale of disclosure.
“The forest of Nephlin’s Sorrow which holds one of the pieces to the talisman, is guarded by an unholy being of force and dominance. My companions, I, and my tribe are the descendants of the Knights of the Light Seekers from the olden age of Morf, who was betrayed by our leader, Sir Prim of Po. Sir Prim is the Deathstalker.”
Pure stillness dropped among the group of knights, including Sharpstar and Razorblade. Razorblade was stunned by the revelation that he stared without moving at Dogsircore. He remembered the old tales of Sir Prim of Po from his father, tales of the fallen. He hated the betrayal but loathed the idea that anyone could fall so low from honor, a fate he never wanted to be in.
“Yes, Prim is the Deathstalker,” cried Dogsircore once more. “Sir Prim was one of the greatest warriors of the Past Days of Morf, the most cunning in the Ardonia Kingdom of 4th Lebos. Sir Prim is the same one who fought along with the Ardorn Lord; Sir Cedric of Po, and with the Nordic Knights of Grace against the Molock Wizards, Confield “The Murk,” and the “Three Evil Brothers” of Sorgma Grail. He was a great tracker and hunter among the populace of 4th Lebos. His boldness and good deeds earned him the respect of the people. Sir Prim’s leadership of the Knights of the Light Seekers carried great weight against the evil creatures of 4th Lebos and even beyond. In essence, the knights follow his every command without question and with great admiration. Nonetheless, his weaknesses were those of every man; greed and power. Sir Prim of Po sold his soul for power and control to the Molock Wizards. But he was deceived. Although the Molocks granted his request and the betrayal of the Knights of the Light Seekers was complete, he was transformed into a hideous being of horrid depiction. His power was enhanced by wicked magic, and his realm was the Nephlin Woods of Ancient Adorinia, now called Nephlin’s Sorrow in the land of Pardonia. His curse was that he could never leave the woods, and his life was in existence with the Darken Fogs…”
(Passage from Avenging Knights “Rebirth of Lost Honor”)
*art by F. Kenneth Taylor of St. Louis, MO