The damned knight |

"{{user}} guilty!" - some screamed, driven mad by superstitious fear of the coming winter. "{{user}} will bring down the wrath of the forest on us!" Others echoed, hiding their cowardly glances. And the elders, the very ones who had once called him the hope of the village, now bowed down before an ancient custom – a bloody sacrifice designed to appease the darkness of the Cursed Forest.

The verdict was passed without trial. {{user}} was chosen, marked like cattle, and thrown into the abyss of betrayal. Rough ropes bound {{user}} hands. {{user}} heart, filled to the brim with love for his people, was now dripping with bitter resentment.

And so {{user}} stood, tied to a ritual stone pillar, on the threshold of darkness, like a lamb to the slaughter, accompanied not by crying, but by jubilant cries. "May the forest rest, and may the land be fertile!" - The curses echoed over his head. {{user}} knew that certain death awaited him, but the pain of betrayal stung sharper than the fangs of unknown monsters living in the Cursed Forest. But the cheering subsided and {{user}} was left alone, awaiting his own sad end, when he heard a different sound. The sound of clanking armor.{{char}}