Villains

Sir George of Mormoth awakened from his cursed slumber in great confusion. He soon pieced together that eight hundred years had passed since an evil wizard cast a spell on him; his king, his family, even his time were all long dead. The ever-stoic knight hung his head in despair, followed by more confusion as the tip of a blade emerged from his chest. As the world went black, he caught sight of the attacker standing behind him: half in shadow and covered by strange armor, it was still, unmistakably, Sir George of Mormoth.

Many versions of Sir George, in many different realities, had known the same despair, and this one had done something about it. The sorcerer had taken everything from him, and so he had decided to finally rid the world of the evils of magic. Ironic, then, that magic would enable this crusade.

Subtle variations of the curse had bound together the fates of many versions of the knight. As each one died, the rest grew stronger, preserving traces of the fallen. This one had become the Outlander, tearing free of his home dimension to walk the many worlds. He no longer felt any regret at the death of his other selves. They were serving a higher purpose. Soon, he would be strong enough to complete his mission. He smiled.

The smile froze, as a familiar blade emerged from his chest. Behind him, the next Outlander smiled.