The Cyclops Knight wears its mastery on its ornate sleeves, decorative epaulets, and elaborate footwear. A breathtaking, walking testament to its skill.
Outside the Cyclops workshop, a perpetual queue disappears into the distance. Vassals weighed down with riches offered by their masters, striking heroes with exquisite physiques, and the desperate woe-begotten sometimes live for decades on the line. Even children will inherit spots on the line from their parents. Each believes that the Cyclops Knight's weapons can cut a magnificent new fate for the wielder. From these adherents the Cyclops Knight will extract its strange, seemingly arbitrary price. An ear, flasks of tears, years of life, lobes of liver; the master finds the materials for its craft waiting at the door.
Maintaining this fanmade Kingdom Death database takes time and real-world resources—no screaming antelope were harmed, but hosting isn’t free. If you find this lantern-lit corner of the internet useful or just plain cool, your support is deeply appreciated. It helps keep the lights on… and the monsters in check.
Help keep the lantern lit. Every bit keeps darkness at bay.
Donate now