The knight of the silver rose’s split toothed grin sent a chill through me as we raised our maces in salute. The officiant’s words of prayer lost in favor of my own appeal for life. Weapons at the ready, we circled. My strike crept flaccidly through the air, my blow landing as formidably as a blade of grass striking at the wind. The next moment, my helmet smashed downward over my eyes. My nose crushed by its own protector. Eyes dancing in their sockets, I lost my sight and collapsed. Waking into a blood soaked pillow, I pinched my nose.