Out across the sea. Just within sight of mortal eye he stands. The tower of the ancient kings. A monument built as a symbol of the protection they once provided and a safe haven for those in trouble. A refuge it once had been. Upon it highest spire standing alone, a black monolith against the blue sky, stands the knight of Glitheron. Built in the likeness of the towers greatest lord. There cut from some strange black stone, carved in the days of men's greatest skill it stands. Untouched by the weathering of the years. Around the great island, the great sea churned in its fury as it sought to drive all from it and destroy what man had built. But as long as the lords power protected the land the sea was held back.

    For many long years people turned to the tower as a place of safety. Relying upon it often. Hiding behind the safety of its walls. There the great lord Glitheron heard the people cry. Listened to their woes and with all his might he would fight to bring justice to those who called for it. To him the people turned with their problems. For he acted as much a commoner as the rest and would go out amongst them. He was the corner stone of the great tower. But who did he lean upon when the burden was too heavy? Who did he go to for solace when at last the entire world became dark around him? Alone he sat at times brooding in dark thought, unable to share with others his feelings. Too busy with their own problems where they to see the torment in his eyes, the anguish and self-loathing that tore through his mind. But ever he fought on. His own problems pushed aside so that others might be treated with respect that he felt they deserved while he lost all that he had for himself.

    He had grown up in the courts of lords and learned all that he could. But none of the great training would ever have saved him from his doom. The years passed and age came to him, Still people looked to him for aide. Still he sat alone with his dark thoughts. The poison, seeping ever deeper into his veins with each passing year. Corrupting his heart as the years slowly danced by his eyes.

    Alone he stood at the gate of his great city. The seas roaring as the crashed against the shore of the island cliffs drowning out the scream of anguish that escaped from his lips. Then as if finally releasing his grip on life he slumped down. Never to arise again, or to hear the call of those in need. A smile of unbelievable happiness though was upon his face. As finally his wish was granted and he was set free of mortal bondage. Freedom had finally been granted him in the only form that was possible.

    Without their lord the people were distraught and none could be found to replace him. For no one would assume the position. And slowly the walls of the tower were abandoned. The great island. Once a prosperous land deserted as the people slowly passed to the main lands in the east. The tides of the sea grew though in the later years. Swallowing the island and eventually consuming the great tower. Everything was covered over by the waters of the great sea. Until finally it could climb no higher. There alone, upon a small pedestal of rock it stands. A great lord of black stone. Who like the master it was designed after is impenetrable on the surface. But who knows what devils work goes on within its inner most workings. What person will come and save him from his lonely torment? Who will help him after he as helped so many? No one. It is too late for the lonely lord. What was left of his inside has crumbled away and only the shell of a great lord now remains. Soon even the stone lord shall fall as the last remnants of the king inside are finally striped away.