On a cold day in Glacian, long, long ago. A weathered and
experienced Infernal Knight by the name of Sir Tont instr-
ucted a protege on something that would change the course
of mortal destiny for the rest of time....

From the ancient tomes of the Infernal Knights, I present:
A Mentor and his Squire, tale XXV

The young troll grimaced in pain. What had he done. Was this
truly what the rest of his life would be like? Was this
really worth it? Death seemed a cure at this point. Truly.

"Xenomorph." a thunderous voice uttered from across the
courtyard in The Iron Citadel.

Across the citadel stood an Infernal Knight of Ashtan.
Clad in black armor, this metal plated warrior stood in
defiance of the weathered area environment surrounding him.

"You have failed a brother." echoed the clad knight.

Slamming his longswords into the ground, Sir Tont takes
a knee next to his young protege.

Tears streaming from his face, the young squire has no real
understanding of what he has gotten himself into. Of what
being an Infernal Knight truly means.

"We were surrounded sire, there was no way out, I can still
feel the wicked fire of the heavens burn upon me. I have
made a grievous mistake sire...I can feel Lord Pentharian
clawing at my mind...I am doomed...I was to a be Knight but
instead I have became a murderer of innocence."

Choking back the horrors of the battle earlier in the day,
Squire Xenomorph buries his head into his arms, trying to
block the pain clawing at his soul.

"...I let brother Aval die...I had no choice..I would have
died too, sire. The church was there to punish us for what
we have done sire.." *THWAM*

Slowly regaining a normal time stream back into his
vision, Squire Xenomorph notes blood pouring from his mouth
and his double vision finally fading back into one.

Sir Tont had little sympathy for the remorse displayed by
the young Squire attempting to gain entrance into The
Guild of The Infernal Knights. With no look of cruelty or
even sympathy within his eyes, the black eyes of Sir Tont
lowered upon the young Protege.

Do you know what it means to Suffer.

Do you know what it means to be Oppressed.

Visions of hell slammed the young protege with the fury
of demons and hatred. Sir Tont clasped his hands in prayer
and immediately the young protege collapsed to the ground.

Claws of Hell burst from the ground. Eyes stricken in
terror, the young protege struggled for dear life. Uttering
another prayer, and one peek of an eye, Sir Tont locks
the young Infernal to the ground with the hands of the grave.

"You never leave a fallen comrade. Your brother died today.
You allowed him to die because you are a coward and you are
not cut out for the way of life The Infernal Knights seek."
The tears stopped. Slowly, the fear in his body melted.
His white eyes, once frozen in terror, ever so slowly
glazed into a furious red. Sweat began to pour from the
young Protege's head. Pupils filling black in color,
the young Protege ripped himself off of the ground,
pulling the heads of the dead with him.

Letting out a warcry of of sheer Evil, Infernal Squire
Xenomorph, vindicated himself from imminent death with a
last minute bout of instant courage. Courage given to him
by a Mentor that was afraid not of Shallam, the Light.
Afraid not of that which would kill him.

A slow shudder echoed down his body. On this cold day in
Glacian, something occured to this thick headed Troll.
A vision of that which eliminates previous thoughts of
despair. Hatred, Oppression, and Suffering cloud his thoughts.

Standing proud into the air, Squire Xenomorph renders a
salute to his Mentor, Sir Tont.

An ever so tiny grin creeps across the face of Sir Tont.
"Do you see it, do you feel it." says the mentor.

"...I am...Evil....I am....me." silently utters the
young squire.

Pulling his longswords from the ground, Sir Tont
leaves the area with a ground thundering exit.

Squire Xenomorph embraces his lesson as a Knight of Evil.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Aeguary, in the year 520 AF.