Tulir, Knight of Renown, bowed his heavy head. He had looked out upon his wasteland, once green with corn and golden with wheat, and lamented his loss. So much life, so much good, wiped out by Pestilence, War, Famine and Death had destroyed all that he had loved. Tears streamed down his cheeks to the unshaven stubble as he remembered his 9 children, and looked out on their 9 graves. His parents, both happy, healthy and whole, rest beside them. His family was gone, but even worse were his people. Offtopic may not have suffered from the long standing effects of the Apocalypse, but other countries did. He looked out on the once green hills where children played and ate from his apple orchard. Now, only tombstones lined the countryside. Grass could no longer gently cover their graves, only the coarse, irradiated soil. A small sound behind him, and he remembered he was not alone. No, his children may have perished, his parents were in eternal rest, and the genocide of his people almost complete. But his wife soldiered on. Both were hardened by their struggles, their hardships. She had taken the death of their children worse, had mourned his parents passing and wept for her people. Tulir had found a good woman, and that small joy kept him alive. So the two lived with the few that remained. Every day was a battle to survive, but they struggled through it. His inner fire never died, and neither did hers. This little inspiration to their remaining servants kept morale up, and kept them human. This continued for 2 cycles, until Tulir had a proposition. She had given him a tough deal, but one that tore him to his core. His people? Settlers of friendly disposition would arrive. His land? More bountiful than before. His children? More would take their place. But the catch… there’s always a catch with demons. His mind tossed and turned. He could find no sleep, no respite. Every night he tore from his bed and stalked the walls. And every night she taunted him. “You will find no rest, no love, until you kill her.” The price of his people: his precious. His love for her, or his love for his kingdom. One life, for the lives of many. He could not, would not, betray his loved one. “Then you will suffer, and she will not. But she will suffer because you suffer, her heart breaking because of your decision.” And it came to be that his bodily health deteriorated. His mind was going with his body, but he could tell how much this hurt her to see him go. He would not stand to have her suffer, but could not break his promise to protect her. Every night he still stumbled along the walls, and every night he felt closer to his end. She had stricken him with a multitude of afflictions, but he would not back down. But then, she struck his people. The few remaining began to pass. His inner fire was going cold, and the people left or perished as the embers died down. What little he had left was being taken away, torn from his grasp. “We have endured one cycle together, Tulir. The proposition will pass tomorrow at dawn.” “Then… tonight it will be.” His wife could tell something was amiss. She had felt the room grow unnaturally cold when he left. Climbing to the tower, she looked for Tulir. She found him walking the walls, his figure standing tall and strong. He stopped, and turned straight to her. Although 400 feet separated them, she could see the blue fire in his eyes. He climbed the last stair, and she had no words for him. His heart wavered, remembering that was how she acted when she despised someone. To be despised by my loved one? How, how could I do this? The moment passed, and his eyes glowed blue once more. Before she hit the ground, the sun cast a single ray of light on his atrocity. The powers of good had seen him, and covered their light in clouds. “What… have… I… done?” “The proposition is null and void, my dear. Perhaps a new deal?” And so Lirytu, Knight of Woe, was born in woe.