[center]N P C  C h a r a c t e r[/center] 
[center][h3][i]The Rusted Knight[/i][/h3][/center]

[center][i]S t a t u s[/i]
[b]ALIVE[/b][/center]


[center][URL=http://s243.photobucket.com/user/nacron/media/02c0087f-1a34-4d7d-a02a-f6ce40be4dcd_zpsjuwrjyyt.jpg.html][IMG]http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff9/nacron/02c0087f-1a34-4d7d-a02a-f6ce40be4dcd_zpsjuwrjyyt.jpg[/IMG][/URL][/center]


He was a man once, wasn’t he? Possibly even a knight, but maybe he had just been a brigand who stole the now rusted armor and claymore. He was a man amongst the living with a life and a story… right? He resembled a man at the very least, although his skin was discolored and drawn tight over his bones from starvation, dehydration, and the many deaths he has suffered. Surely he could have not just been born to this land of death and misery, but there was nothing left of his life if there was a life before this land. Nothing… except for her and the bastard that had stolen her from him. She was his… [i]she was his.[/i] [color=ed1c24][b][i]HIS.[/i][/b][/color] 

No… no, she wasn’t. Not anymore. He had stolen her from him, but how? How had he stolen her? Did he kill her or woo her? It was impossible to tell anymore. All he remembered was this land now, the blurred face of a woman and another man, but that bastard was in this land with him. He had reawakened him from his slumber slumped up against one of the petrified trees. He killed him, but his body vanished from beneath his boot. The bastard had returned though and managed to escape with only a gash on his side. Now he must stalk the bastard and make him suffer like he has suffered.