Conjured from the deepest pit, the Black Knight is an unstoppable mountain of tormented, angry steel. With armor forged in hellfire and a mighty battle-axe said to feast upon his enemies’ souls, his only purpose is destruction.
“He is a servant of dark purpose, with neither past nor future. Nigh immortal, it will take an army to defeat him, to crack that carapace of hell-hardened steel. Upon his summoning, a swift end is assured to all names inked upon his heart.”
— Passage from The Heresy of the Black Knight, author unknown
The stories that tell of the Black Knight’s origin speak of a wicked woman, a noble knight and a black-hearted demon freed from the darkest Pit.
They are fragmented.
And far from scholarly truth.
In most circles they are considered myth.
But they are not myth. They are a warning.
The first records of the Black Knight’s presence appear in writings from the last days of the Age of Chivalry, when kings and their gallant knights stood guard against threats from the dark edges of the known world.
The wicked woman, the stories go, sought a knight of the purest heart – a hero whose loyalty and good will would be his undoing.
Once she had this poor, brave knight’s heart she would lock it in a black cage that it may be controlled through pain and seduction – for no caged heart could withstand the wicked woman’s hushed commands.
So, the woman searched. Following tales of brave men and women across the land to find that perfect love – freely given, though built upon lies.
Kings and heroes begged for her caress.
Pleaded for her affections.
But none were right.
None were pure.
One amongst a gathering of heroes shined brightest – a champion knight with a heart of golden and a beautifully brutal command of the battlefield.
His aura was that of a righteous warrior. His armor was silver and rose.
And the woman was pleased.
This noble knight would be the first and only soldier in her everlasting army. He would lead her mortal forces across the lands of the waking world, followed by fire and death and sorrow.
And so her seduction began.
With soft words and casual glances.
Until the knight’s heart was her’s and her trap was sprung.
And the good man who was a noble knight fell.
And the Black Knight did rise.
And kingdoms did crumble.
And the lands did bleed with each swing of the infernal warrior’s unholy axe.
But this was all long ago, in a forgotten age.
What matters now is not the broken lands or the noble man’s damnation.
What matters is that the wicked woman has summoned the Black Knight again.
This time, to a Realm of warriors beyond imagination, where an incredible power waits to be tainted and twisted to fit the dark sorceress’ arcane needs.
She must have it.
She will stop at nothing to claim it as her own.
There is no spell she will not cast.
No sin she will not commit.
And, for his mistress, there is nothing the Black Knight will not do.
No challenge he will not face.
No foe he will not vanquish.
No worlds he will not conquer.
The power will be her’s.
If true – if any of this is true – then pity all who call themselves champions and defenders of this strange new warriors’ Realm.
Because death walks in black armor.
And it comes to claim its prize.