When his flesh began to decay, and his once handsome face came to resemble the withered skull of a corpse, the Shadowknight sealed his visor so that none might ever look upon his ruined visage.
When he broke his vow to his lord, one sworn before all the gods, a great curse fell upon the man who would be known only as the Shadowknight. He was left to walk the world in miserable undeath, his armor fused to his flesh.
Inflicted with the immortality of the undead, the Shadowknight looked upon as his first wife and then his children succumbed to old age and death. As each lay upon their deathbeds he could only touch them with a cold unfeeling gauntlet - his flesh encased within its black metal.
Pain of both soul and body was the lot of the Shadowknight. When the padding inside his armor wore away after long years, the hard metal began to grate against his skin. And though the taint of undeath was upon his flesh, his nerves still sang their song of pain.
In these sabatons the Shadowknight walked many hundreds of miles, in search of an end to his curse. And he surely found it, though none can say how. For one day his armor was found untenanted, filled with dust.
