Fulghor's hulking form was stalking the empty sands, beneath that endless stary blanket above. He was encased with old, worn gold armor around his human torso, which clunk and clinked at every step his hooves took. A helm accompanied the set; hiding away an old, seasoned warrior.

His form was huge, and heavy; which almost caused him to stagger over a mountainous hill of sand as it broke beneath his mighty weight, but the Nightlord held strong and supported himself effortlessly. With him he carried his mighty spear in an ironclad grasp- just incase any fool took him as an easy target due to his missing limb, and worn appearance.

Along in his travels he spotted a stranger in the distance, and only then did the great centaur stop in his tracks, as his grip upon his spear grew tighter. The man had long forgotten such things as companionship, and even his sacred duties- worn down to a battle hungry beast. He expected nothing less of this encounter...

Although, sometimes fate may have other plans.