Azeric Liore Azeric stood upon the bow of the merchant ship Imminent Destiny. The crew and the merchants couldn't stop staring, as his armor as his scorched armor, chipped away by blades and spells alike, still bore the signs of the carnage of that knight at Adamant. Yet, somehow, even though as tarnished as it was the adamantine armor still glistened beautifully taking on a lustrous silver hue. As the light of the dying day struck it, it glimmered and memorized them, especially the children who gawked in awe at this armored individual--who like a prism encapsulated all the colors of the sky. From the fiery connotations of the reds, to warm hues of yellow and orange--down to the pastel blues and light lavenders. It was as if he were a reflection of the sky itself, a mirror made into the shape of a man. Many wondered where he got such armor--did he buy it or did he steal it. Its grandeur made it seem simply impossible to believe one could afford such armor. Though they didn't know it for the lack of a face, he was the champion of Adamant. Liore the Iron Heart. At his hip was an almost equally impressive broadsword; the pommel shaped a rose and was covering the thorcan jewel--a powerful talisman that made the upward formed petals glisten a deep red. The cruciform was just as curled as the vines that seemed to entwine down the first few inches of the sword and on it was an incantation. As much as he had them in wonder he also had others in trepidation. In spite of their fears though, he didn't seem to mind them one way or another. His winged helm simply...gazed forwards, ever watchful. His diligence near made him into a statue. The only things that moved were the two red tassels that hung from his distinguishable helm, the cloth that hung from his groin and the short mantle that hung from around his waist. It was only until a small girl missing her two front teeth wandered over to him with a flower she'd gotten from one of her mother's bouquets. It was a vividly azure colored blossom, with tints of purple upon the insides near the stamen. The knight Azeric then turned his head to the girl and then quietly knelt. He took the flower from the small girl's hand who'd accompanied it with a smile. "What's this? An azalea? " Azeric told her in a kind voice. "I thank you milady, I shall cherish it always." He then told her. The girl then blushed but said nothing. "Do you know what an Azalea means my lady?" He inquired, the girl shook her head. Her eyes gained a glimmering in her eyes, it was the fire of curiosity. "You see, the azalea is a symbol of temperance; self-restraint, you understand? It also depicts a fragile passion and an abundance." The girls smile bloomed into a wide mouthed grin as she began clapping very happily. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth where are you? Elizabeth!" A woman's voice called out from the stern of the ship. It drew the girl's attention. "Is your name Elizabeth?" Azeric questioned, and the girl nodded. "Well then lady Elizabeth, it has been my utmost pleasure speaking with you. But I am sure your mother would now like to know your whereabouts." Elizabeth then nodded, running of past several men where she seemed to vanish as all children seemed to do when they are small. Azeric then stood upwards once again, tucking the flower into his vambrace on his right arm. A wind swept past him, and despite his armor and the heavy coat-like gambeson under it, it was chilling. The daylight fled into the night the clouds had begun to swirl like writhing snakes and the crew knew what that mean: a storm was brewing. Moments later a flash in the sky; it broke through the clouds like dawn but it carried neither the semblance of another day, nor it's warmth. It was soon followed by a loud, ominous rumble like a sleeping beast had awoken from its slumber. "Awoken, have you? And here I thought this voyage was going to be a peaceful one--should have believed otherwise, hmm?" Azeric pondered to himself, staring off into the distant skies that were blackening. Wood groaned and creaked as the water under the ship began pitching and rocking as the sails began to flap more and more violently. It was then the forestay sail, one ofthe three most forward sails of the ship, snapped free only to be caught Azeric's hand. Pulling it back, he fought against the hurricane force gale. Lightening lashed out overhead as thunder boomed around him to the point it was sending the vibrations entirely through him. With the winds soon came the rain and it was torrential, sweeping across the deck drenching anything that wasn't kept locked away. Azeric naturally worried for the safety of everyone aboard. Though he was no longer considered a chevalier, he was still bound by his own personal creed which tied into the tenants of chivalry. He was a black knight. A man without a lord for whom he would serve. He was a man that had slain a tyrant masquerading as a just ruler, his ruler. And to end more than a hundred years of bloodshed, it took a single stroke to that which he'd sworn an oath to protect. It irrecoverably damaged him in many ways. It was why he was always alone, why he always ventured from town to town helping and why he never submitted to another king. For while he was the Iron Heart, he was also an oathbreaker. In hours the storm had brought the entire sea to bear down on them. Waves upon waves crashed into them and upon them. They'd lost several men, and Azeric had kept another from being pitched overboard by the turbulent seas. Still, there was nothing in their favor and the gods would not be so kind as to save them. The Imminent Destiny met its end when a massive wave lifted the boat into a near vertical position before slamming it against the rocks of the shore and before the undercurrent dragged whatever stragglers to their watery deaths. Azeric had fallen over board when the ship was pitching violently. It took the main mast breaking to sweep him off his feet as it swung down and to the side driving him off the side. Azeric struck his head against a rock, snapping the latch into place and locking his face behind a metallic mask. But as he sank, his eyes open he could see the slivers of the moon gleaming down through the haziness after him. In his out-of-focus view he could see a small body floating above him as he sank deeper and deeper. It wasn't until he made out it was a small child that he began to fight against the feeling that this was his judgement, his calamity for breaking a vow. The waters drifted him back forth, to and fro like a mother calming her child into sleep... "I can't...I can't let them die here..." His thoughts bubbled to the surface of his consciousness. His hands twitching their fingers at first before beginning to weakly move themselves. Soon his hands were grabbing at the sand, before weakly pushing himself up. His eyes looked around in their blurred vision. It was daylight now. As his sight became clearer, so too did the understanding that he alone was the only surviving passenger. In disbelief he began to frantically look for the small girl whom he'd that he'd seen. But no matter what part of the wreckage he looked through that remained--she was nowhere to be found. Once he realized this, all he could do was look at the glimmering waters and wondered how far she'd been pulled away. He then remembered the flower and pulled it from his vambrace. It was surprisingly well preserved. He stared at the flower, remembering the brevity of their chance meeting before tossing it into the ocean. "I'm sorry...Elizabeth." It was all he could say. He then looked back at the forest ahead of him and began to venture inland.