I once captured the attention of the King of Gallowmere with fabulous stories about slain dragons and vanquished legions. For my excellent storytelling, I was knighted and put in charge of the Royal Battalion, a purely honorary position considering the kingdom's centuries of peace.

But one day, the evil sorcerer Zarok raised an army of mutant undead and I was called upon to lead the King's army into battle.

I was slain in the opening seconds of the battle, the very first arrow piercing my left eye, though the King's army went on to triumph. Despondent over my failure and concerned because of Zarok's disappearance, the King proclaimed that I had killed Zarok and lost my own life shortly after to give hope to the people of Gallowmere.