The Bone King of Praath

It is said that King Hezzaghal of Praath was a great warrior who traveled all the lands of the old world in search of a worthy opponent. He crossed the Malhalholtra and left a trail of sorrow and death in his wake, traveling beyond the Rimefrost and Treppania, beyond the lands of Knet and Shur, until he came to the edge of the knot and turned back. All the mighty champions of those fabled realms who dared stand against him were felled by Hezzaghal's awful blade, for none were worthy. The king returned to Praath withered and gray, ancient but unbroken. There, he brooded on his throne, heart filled with a bitter rage. His life was spent, and still he had not found satisfaction.

Hezzaghal called the wisest seers and oracles of Praath to come before him:

"Am I doomed to die without satisfaction? Am I doomed to die trapped in this flesh without the glory of having faced a worthy adversary?"

None of the wise men had an answer for him, save Bethezzra, the oldest and chiefest of his seers. "There is one, Great Lord. You have fought him many times, but you have not yet defeated him," said Bethezzra, "he is death. And he waits for us all."

The stars burned bright that night, for in Hezzaghal they saw a champion in their eternal struggle. They whispered to the old king, and he bargained with them for the strength to stand against his foe. Hezzaghal, the Warrior King of Praath, stood and bathed in the light of the Einvars, and the old king tore his flesh from his body until he was naught but bones and beating organs.

"I have fought death a thousand times," Hezzaghal spake, "I am not afraid."

Bethezzra and the others fled before the fleshless king, terrified of what he had become. Night fell upon Praath, and the Bone King's watch began.