The Galant Ghoul
Sparkling silver edged plate armour, gleams gallantly for all. A closed full visor, hawk beak like protruding with predatory birds feathers running behind. A thrice polished shield that beams when even a slight amount of light touches it. And a magnificent long sword wrapped in a brilliant blood red scabbard. Truly the epitome of a majestic knight, the very textbook example of one.
Then the smell hits your nose.
A sickly sweet rot, of corpse bloom and carrion. Of high iron and claret. You notice the flock of flies that buzz around the champion. The slight liquid leak that comes from the bottom of sabatons. Somethings off, from a distance he looks ever the part of the knight. But up close something is hideously off. A plated hand lifts up the vizor and behind lurks a predatory face. White and feral, a stark contrast to the polished protection, like a horror hermit crab you realise late you have fallen into a trap.
Nothing happens, the ghoul merely nods his head, snaps the guard back down and continues on his journey.
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