A knight awakens by a bonfire, slain by the hollows that roam through the woods… killing anything in sight. The knight is used to this though, and he shrugs the death off as he did his last, always looking forward to improvement. The man clad in nothing but the most elite armor from his far away country, Astora, stands to roam the darkness of the surrounding forest yet again, eager to improve his skills. Though it wasn't always like this… In life the now brave Sir Lance was a cowardly farmer, he knew what it was like to work hard and strive for something, undeath was the beginning of his adventure and it was here where he would find his true purpose. While wandering, a shiver went up the knights spine... he could not describe it, but he felt as if he was not alone anymore, as if he was surrounded by something other than the hollow husks that wandered the forest. Blood. An orb of darkness quickly approached the knight as he raised his shield, slamming against it with heavy force. Some of the darkness reached the knights skin and brought with it unbearable pain. The knight opened his mouth as if to scream - but nothing came out. The dark figure stepped out of the shadows, the mask on its' face displayed a single bloody tear drop under the right eye socket. He held a dark talisman in his hand, with strong resemblance to a voodoo doll. Lance had heard of this type of dark magic before… hexes, the dark nature of this "miracle" haunted the knight's memory from childhood stories and rumors, but he had never actually seen, or felt it, until now.

"Hello there friend, may I interest you in a duel?"

Lance did not say a word, he simply couldn't. He gave a nod of disapproval.

"Well that's all right, then. We can wait."

Within minutes another undead appeared seemingly out of no where, covered in a dark robe and a hood that concealed her face, with a silver rapier in hand, words came out of the darkness.

"Jeff, the duelist. I've heard about you… but what are the chances that I would run into a lunatic like yourself. I only hunt criminals, not petty duelists. Justice will not fall upon you this day."

"Ah, Fiora, the lightning blade. What an honor it is to meet you! I would love to duel you, as Sir Has-No-Tongue over here is ill-prepared and weak. Please allow me the privilege of a fight."

"Very well, duelist, but I only fight until the death."

Behind his mask, Jeff has a smile brighter than the one he had the day he died.