Beneath a heavy, sulfurous sky, the armored figure of a knight stands motionless, his silhouette swallowed by a dense, unnatural fog. His armor is sealed tightly, cold and impenetrable, the once bright colors of red and yellow long faded into rust and grime. Deeply etched symbols of occult significance have replaced the cheery engravings, and a mcdonalds logo is the only feature visible on the helmet. The fortress behind him is a hellish parody of the golden arches, its walls cracked and crumbling, oozing with something vile. The towers stretch upward like crooked fingers, grasping at the darkened sky. Thick, blood- like mist swirls around the base of the structure, and the moat pulses as if alive—filled with something far more sinister than ketchup. In this desolate land, the air hangs thick with dread, as though the ground itself seethes with cursed energy
