Brilliantly vibrant green eyes stared down at a brunet, sword plunged deep into the gut of the woman whose body was connected to those eyes. Her brown locks seemed to dull in shade, as the once colorful life faded from her eyes. She reached out for him with her left hand, landing on the boy's cheek—watery eyes in both male and female lead to tears springing and cascading down each of their faces. In the recent attack, the boy had lost his right arm, but that seemed so insignificant as he watched his mother slowly fade away. His voice seemed to die with her at that moment, he wasn't able to wail in sadness as that would alert him, so he watched as his mother's once-tanned skin paled as she spoke her final words to deaf ears. Her form was placed protectively over his own, making sure that the sword in her gut would not poke the boy. She tried grinning at him, but couldn't muster the strength. Her lips quivered, while her blood gushed out of the wound constantly. She closed her eyes, shakily saying her final words through drying lips to her unresponsive son, "Run. R-runaway f–far fr-from here." Blood clogged her throat as it spilled from her mouth like a spring. The life had finally left completely, her body hunched, the dead eyes staring down into, the love that had been present previously completely gone.
Blood dripped onto the boy's face like tears, but the tears washed the blood away, while he stared into the eyes of the no longer living woman. Adrenaline kicked in, and he pushed the disabled woman off of himself, revealing her missing right hand, calf, and foot. He saw the murder weapon dug deep into his mother's stomach, further fueling the burning fire of hate building in his heart. He grabbed the rusty sword by the hilt with his single remaining hand and pulled it out with relative ease. From the scarce whispers he had heard throughout the house, this had once belonged to his mother before she had been injured in battle. He would get his revenge, with his mother's blade, for hurting them. He had always been told he took a lot from his mother, including her brutish strength; they both possessed something he had relied on much to help out around the house. Now it would be used for the true reason it had been gifted to them: to kill.
He walked patiently up the nearby stairs, outside of the pitch-black basement they had been hiding in from the man upstairs, but now there was no time to hide or run. Sword in hand, he walked up the winding creaking stairs that seemed to echo his pain with every step taken up them. Shouting could be heard, with several crashes being heard not long after. A hitch in his breath was present as he laid his eyes on the door leading to his kitchen. It all seemed to dawn on him at once, his mother was dead, and it was his father's fault. Now he was on a mission to avenge his mother. Fresh tears he didn't know he still had fallen from his eyes, while blood continued to spew from his stump of an arm. He sat on the stairs, contemplating the words his mother gave him at the very end of her life: to run away; to get as far away from this life as possible. Though his body was on fire, he couldn't help shivering at the cold that began to gnaw at his limbs. His body shook lightly as he curled up into the fetal position. The fear of being alone further makes itself known in the dark stairwell. He longed for his mother's touch now more than ever, but that would never happen now, so many things ran through the boy's head, things he should've done differently, so many things he wanted to do for her, only to see her leave him in front of him.
He cried so much the tears had since stopped, only because he ran out of water to release from the corners of his eyes. He sat there in silence for what felt like hours. The only key to how long he stood there was the fact that his father had stopped his rampage. It was his chance to end all of this. His chest hurt deeply as he continued to hold the blade, coated in his and his mother's blood reverently.
His will had been hampered, but in the silence behind the door, an impenetrable will had forced itself in, merging with his spirit. Perhaps it was a higher power, maybe it was the whisper in the back of his head getting its way, he didn't seem to care either way, getting up from his hunched placement and facing the door. The silence of the room was interrupted by the creaking on the door his back had previously been resting against. With every ounce of courage he had, he entered the kitchen, his eyes adjusting quickly to the candle-lit room, ready to put this all to an end.
With the sun declining on the horizon, the warm colors of the rainbow splashed the darkening skies with exuberant expression. Though the horizon promised the closing of another day, a couple of moons danced their way up into the skies above, bringing the party of bright stars with them. While the infinitely large group of cosmic landmarks continued to congregate in the depths of space, the knight lay still, a battered and bloody mess yet serene as his lifeless eyes gazed into the endless black vacuum of space above.
The blood had long since stopped its flow, but left its mark in the stains it left in its wake. In a sudden moment of announcement, he rocketed forward, into a sitting position, not having been claimed by death. His once clouded eyes cleared, gazing at one of the darkened walls of the rabbit hole. He quickly fell back down, however, due to the blade being stuck in the center of his torso. He stared into the darkening skies as the stars partied above him in wonder. While the heavens continued to fall asleep, the stars shone intensely deep beyond them, all trying to outdo each other. His eyes lingered on the skies above for a few more moments before returning to the weapon in his gut. He gathered his battered and bruised right arm and attempted to grab the sword, unfortunately, arm strength was far too weak to hold the straight sword, so he mustered the strength to move his left hand which was followed by a flicker of hesitation in his eyes when his dominant hand flared up in a fire of pain, so he placed it back where it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, the pain of not only crash landing into the endless desert at the surface but then down to his current location.
Sighing, his mind wandered, following his eyes as he gazed at the dark walls surrounding his recovering body. Though much of it was cast in deep shadows, he could decipher through the darkness chiseled stone slabs from the little visible to his adapted eyes. Looking around a bit more, he noticed no corpse in this hole with him, which slightly intrigued him; '... There's something different about this place compared to the surface. Someone spent enough time down here to want to make it look nice…'
Questions continued to pile onto his mental desk as he looked around further. He quickly came to a realization: He was likely not alone. With that revelation, he quickly reached for the blade stuck in his gut; pushing through the intense fire throughout his entire body and raising both arms steadily, he grabbed hold of the sword with both hands at the same time and gripped it as tightly as he could. A burst of strength hit him through the bleary pain, following that was a sudden screech of metal and the indescribable sound of his flesh being relieved of the object obstructing it filling his ears, the blade was removed from his gut in a few moments. He lightly tossed the weapon coated in his blood to the ground next to him, which clattered against the cold stone floor indefinitely as it reverberated around the tall tunnel loudly. He sighed contentedly at the incision in his gut now closing itself, allowing the pain around his body to start evaporating.
He once again laid still, his left hand lying across his torso limply with his numb right hand pinned horizontally by his side. He simply gazed at the skies above, watching the bright night sky twinkle, waiting for his body to finish its process of mending itself automatically. He raised his left arm with a few shuddered motions to place his thumb in the middle of his torso, allowing the clobbered armor to mend itself, in a similar vein to his own body. His entire body was enveloped in a cloud once again, clunks could be heard through it, however, as his armor forced itself back into place. The armor itself was in critical condition previously, after he crashed into the earth for the first time, he had impacted the earth mostly with his left shoulder, which had been crushed entirely on contact with the sand. The armor resembled scrap metal by the time he hit the floor, the protection on his back crinkled from the strain and dug deeply into the flesh it had once protected. Holes were present across his form due to the dragon's metallings. Safe to say he wasn't in the best shape.
He signed in relief at the smoke dissipating, revealing the perfectly intact armor beneath it. With it no longer crushing parts of his body, such as his shoulders, the immortal man began healing himself back to one hundred percent. It wasn't a slow process per se, but it wasn't a fast one. While the healing of the armor let a lot of the pain wash away quickly, his body was still very much injured from his suicidal exit. So he waited, staring up at the glistening stars above, and the pair of twin moons –that had finally started showing itself in the open sky that the hole allowed to be seen– in a strange mixture of dejection and awe. There was nothing quite like the night sky of this place, it was so full of life, which contrasted starkly with the world he had explored so far. The emotions that wafted off the exuberant stars, both old and young, struck a chord in the recovering brown-haired man. As the moons glided across the small space of sky visible to him, his body quickly reinvented itself, fixing the wounds of the harsh impacts and by the time the blood moon was completely gone from sight, his body had completely healed.
Suddenly, a groan escaped his lips as his armor as he pushed himself up, past the resistance into an upright position, and immediately, his eyes darted about the dark room, in an attempt to clear his surroundings. Darkness cloaked the walls of this place like a blanket, hints of stone-carved walls were hinted through the abyss, but nothing more than that. He continued to push himself up, arriving on his feet wobbly, he surveyed the surface he found himself on. He was standing in the engraving of his body on the large rock that he had been plastered in just a few seconds prior. From a broader view, the surface dipped slightly from where he stood tall. The grey of the stone flooring looked cold to the touch which matched the walls of the corridor, hidden by darkness. He looked around critically, with an edge in his eye that was not concealed in the slightest.
Quickly, he swiped his arm to pick up the sword that he had thrown to the ground in his lethargic state of blurry pain and got into a defensive stance, his left hand clasping the blade, while the right reached over his shoulder and towards his upper back, ready to summon it if needed. He slowly approached the shadows that hid his surroundings cruelly from him; poised to strike at a given notice, but lowered his guard once his eyes drank in the sight of three walls, and an infinite void of darkness that led into a shaded hallway far beyond the view he held. He stared down the expanse of the abyss with what one could assume was a slight sense of anxiousness. The quiet in the air hung uneasily while the shadows looked to writhe in welcoming to the knight.
He put his sword away momentarily in its sheath, and let his hand glide over the stone wall near the corridor. Through the darkness, he tried feeling for something flammable or something that could radiate light attached to the wall, but unluckily, found nothing along the cool greys. He stared down the corridor leading into the depths of the unknown, all while having his arm extended outward to the left against the wall which fell unceremoniously back to his side as he walked took the first step into the darkness, this allowed his clanking armor to ring louder through the tight walls and he continued taking steps into the inkiness, all while tracing both hands on either wall, waiting to find something to light the way. As he continued down the sickening corridor, his feet began to deafen to his ears slowly, giving way to a consuming silence that felt darker than the darkness dampening his sight; enhancing the ambient sense of dread that seemed to always nag and tug at the deepest part of his soul. He wasn't intimidated by the absence of light, but he couldn't stop himself from growing hesitant in a place where he couldn't see anything or hear anything either, so he paused for a single moment in his stride. Letting his hands fall to his sides once again, permitting the clanging to fill the hollowness of the small walkway, giving way to calm in his mind, this hesitance to dissipate, and his soul to reach a balance deep in his chest. The unease that was gnawing at him, let go of him slowly, from its maw and receded into the hallway. Though the silence continued to grow larger, he scattered it completely with every step taken, reverberating loudly.
With his hands tracing the walls, he continued his walk with less grace with every step. The harsh stomps of the heavy armor rattled the stone walls, which were followed shortly by small bits of rubble falling from the ceiling. Though he did take numerous moments to stop and let the deteriorating walls have a break, he quickly went full steam ahead, charging like a bull through the single straight tunnel that stretched for miles. It wasn't long before his right hand got caught on something mounted to the stone wall, which was met quickly by the left hand also meeting an object with a similar description to the one he located on the opposite side of the tunnel. He moved both hands in a fashion close to one another to each object, each coming to a similar conclusion, these were torches, held to the wall in some way he couldn't make out through just his sense of touch. His left arm flopped to his side while his right pulled the object without a moment's notice from the slightly damp wall, causing a low rumble to quake in the passageway, what made this time different, however, were the nearly visible cracks that sprung from the torches previous location on the not so pristine wall. He stood still, frozen in a kind of shaken understanding, while the cracks slowly continued to encroach further and further up the wall and in every conceivable direction. He held his breath in anticipation, until finally, the sounds of age stopped plaguing his eardrums, and with a single sigh placed the end of the torch on the ground, only to hear even more shattering from the ceiling which was followed promptly by the ancient passage beginning to collapse in onto itself, after many years of holding up the weight of the dead, allowing sand to gush from the open wound like a geyser going the opposite way. Luckily, he was already moving out of the way when the stream of sand invaded the area in increasing amounts as the walls and ceiling continued to cave in without stopping and continued without hesitation down into the deep and dark unknown place this tunnel led to.
The tsunami of sand continued to enlarge itself with every loud clatter of a step the knight took in the opposing direction of the collapsing tunnel. He was stopped abruptly in this runaway, however, when he ran into something… moving? As he collided with the wall, the almost fleshy texture of it bounced him back into the sea of sand, which helped him continue his rush by carrying him at a rapid pace down the hall to the right. He could feel sand getting into every crevice, but he couldn't care about that at this moment as chunks of stone continued to fall onto him, only being blocked by his arms which were in an x-formation above himself, dampening the damage done from the falling stones. Due to his vision still being completely hampered and useless, he ran into the moving wall every so often, along with what he believed to be pillars along the same side as the wall. He had to forcefully push himself out of corners and tight spots on multiple occasions or else he would likely never be able to move ever again in his infinite lifespan, which is something he could not afford to lose, especially while on his mission. Eventually, as time passed, the waves of sand stopped advancing, the ceiling stopped self-destructing, and the walking mural slowly slid down the sand and back onto the cold hard floor, and lay there disoriented from his unwanted ride down the slide of sand. He didn't give himself much time to recover however, as something reentered his mind: one of the largest creatures he had ever experienced being close to was not just right next to him, but he had also crashed into said creature on multiple occasions. He jolted to his feet and like lightning, pressed his left thumb into his palm, sanctioning the release of the sword from the cloud of smoke into his hand. He gripped the hilt tightly and prepared in silence for what he believed would be some type of attack from the beast.
Though you could hear a pin drop in the far-off distance, the constant and obnoxious buzzing in his right ear rang louder than anything he had ever heard. It had been a long time since he had encountered something of this proportion. With a light twitch in his left eye, and a sort of weight building on his chest, he began his steady crab-like walk in the opposite direction of the sandy tomb he was nearly fossilized in. He shook his frame slightly, only now realizing how uncomfortable he was feeling at this moment with sand in every crevice of either his armor or his body. Sadly, he could not use his restorative abilities to get rid of it. Letting go of a large breath in the form of a sigh, he continued his slow scuffle into the darkness from the darkness. He was stopped however by a misplaced step in his walking pattern into a space vacant of walking space. Since he is incapable of walking on air his frame, which was leaning forward, fell like a house of cards into the deep darkness, consuming his frame in the tight corridor he had found himself falling. He had bounced off the same fleshy wall that was also along the horizontal corridor, which had apparently followed him down the vertical abyss, a couple of times as he went deeper and deeper into the earth, but was quickly interrupted when he went face first into the wall opposing the scaly thing, which was preceded by his consciousness slipping from him permitting the darkness to turn inward as he was forcefully put to sleep once again.
Though he fell through layers upon layers of twilight for mere moments, it all abruptly ended when he finally met the cold floor with a large boom. At the sound of the boom in the far right of the room, nearly instantaneously, a large blooming fire appeared in the center of the room, illuminating it beautifully as the largely orange flame flickered indiscriminately in yellows and reds along with the occasional lick of green fire. As soon as the man hit the ground, his eyes jerked open while his body crumbled like a tossed sack of potatoes. The clacking of the sword still clutched deeply in his hand, rung contemptuously in the lair populated by 2. With a groan from the knight's helmet-covered mouth, he got back to his feet slowly, not quite clutching his sword like a lifeline anymore until he was back to his feet, where he returned to his defensive stance, where he shortly started to soak in his surroundings like a sponge.
The single bonfire revealed tall stone walls with stories chiseled into said walls, encasing them into time. These artistic walls were all connected to a ceiling that was not visible through the thick layer of ink covering it. Tables were strewn across the floor with no pattern, almost panicked looking with gashes in the stone where they had slid from to their current location. He would have recognized journals thrown about in frenzy, across the floor, tables, and chairs, but was thrown into the deep end when his eyes laid bluntly onto the other occupant. Though only its head protruded out of the hole that was many times too small for it to be slithering through, it was a beast of epic proportions. Its enormous tan scales brushed against each other, creating almost a sizzling sound in the quiet room while it slumbered peacefully. Unsure of how deep the creature was currently sleeping, he hobbled quietly out of the beast's range. Tubes of metal were systematically placed around the beast's head in a grid-like pattern, likely for protection against the serpent. Once in a safer position than previously, he continued to investigate the area he found himself in. Looking closer at the tables, stacks of papers were sprawled sporadically across the dozens of tables which were also inhabited by thick stacks of books all of which were crowned with inches of dust. He stood statue-like while staring at the likely-to-be-laboratory he was currently in. Glancing back at the snake, it tossed and turned in its cage ever so slightly, likely dreaming pleasant dreams of freedom from the endless tunnels it had burrowed. Mechanically, his eyes darted around the room to the inscriptions on the wall showing what was likely this snake's upbringing as the only living creature in the land of the dead. Though his observations were quick and lacking in complete understanding, he could very well make out that this mountain-sized snake lived off eating the bones of the nameless dead of the planet. Well, that's what he assumed from the image of a snake swallowing the bones of the deceased whole.
Letting go of another breath, his eyes focused on the crackling fire, blazing brilliantly in the center of the room. The tinges of yellow, red, and the licks of green at the highest point of the flame contrasted vibrantly with the primarily orange flame. He once again observed the dust-covered tables with a quiet intrigue. He crept to the first table with as much subtlety as you could get with the loudly clanging armor and made it to the carved table. The table he had arrived at was in some form of pristine condition. The legs of the table were carved intricately into snakes of their own, piling up at the bottom, while reaching high up, and biting down at the corners and top of the table. He picked up one of the many empty tomes scattered around the table frantically, feeling the lightness of the pageless husk of a book. Opening the cover, the light cracking of the spine stretching filled his ears as he stared at the inside of the covers along with the remaining pieces of the pages that stuck to the spine, despite being ripped out. Glancing at the nearby light source, he was quick to deduce the most probable option of what happened to the pages, which left a slightly bitter taste on his tongue. His eyes lingered on the fire for a few more moments, watching almost longingly at the burning logs casting flames high into the unseen ceiling.
Gathering his thoughts once again, he stared down the still-slumbering beast with an estranged curiosity about the imprisoned snake. His gaze sharpened as he started to pay more attention to the possible hostile, at the top of its head were 2 protruding horns that were barely exiting its skull which were surrounding some sort of shape formed by scars likely placed in that formation for a reason. Eyes narrowing his worn helmet's lifeless voids of darkness, he decided to continue searching the husks of books in the slim chance of finding a hint towards the truth behind the slumbering giant. Pivoting, he faced the table he was still standing in front of, and continued to survey the landscape of the bench. He grabbed empty tome after empty tome, finding nothing. He did not pay any mind to the loose papers until he finished looking through every single tome, and found absolutely nothing. Moving his attention to the stacks of papers, it was not looking promising as he looked at the top page: It was covered largely by splashes of ink, leaving nothing of the original document left. Moving the wrinkled paper to the side, a small dust cloud enveloped it at a moment's notice, but that was not where his eyes lingered. The ink bled through the top page into this one, and much in the same fashion, not a single word on the sheet was salvaged, and as he continued to relocate page after page, it was apparent to him that every page in this stack was expertly sabotaged to give nothing away to anyone.
Frustrated, he scrambled quietly to a different table and continued to search for anything. His desperation and frustration slowly grew as the number of tables dwindled lower and lower. The loose sheets of paper were chaotically sprawled across the ground, in a similar vein to the carcasses of the books which were laid open both on the tables and thrown without care on the ground in various positions, not one exactly like the other. He stared into yet another empty book with a passionately frustrated expression hidden in the darkened shadows of the headgear. Tossing the husk to the side, he surveyed the area once again, there was nothing that he had yet to lay his eyes on, and through all the silent searching, not a single sliver of information had made itself present. His frustration continued to grow brighter in his dimming eyes of disappointment, a tightening in his fists being the only visual detail of said frustration. Letting his anger guide him momentarily, he raised his clenched hand high into the air, before allowing the full force of his fist to crash land into the ill-prepared table at full strength.
At the moment of impact, a shattering boom filled his ears while the table splintered off in front of the harsh attack, followed instantaneously by a violent vibration throughout the chamber, even causing a small crater to form in the foundation beneath him. The flame in the center of the room swirled sharply from the crash, allowing itself to be pushed away from the source of the bang while also growing rapidly in strength. The papers and empty books were kicked up harshly in the attack, most were just pushed away from the collision, but some were incinerated in the heat and wildness of the bonfire's unrestrained flames. Tables were ever so slightly displaced from their previous positions, but some did clash into each other with noticeable force exerted into each encounter. In the aftermath, a thick silence had befallen the room which was quickly cleansed by clicks in a linear fashion before leading into a single chime and finally leading into the low rumble of wood eroding, revealing a single sheet of paper from a hidden compartment in the top of the table. Snapping out of it, he glanced around the disheveled room in disappointment. Releasing his anger, he was quick to move towards the note, sticking out halfway across the room, he scanned the room, acknowledging his screw-up. He moved quickly to the paper, not seeing the pair of enormous eyes trained on him at this very moment. Once he arrived at the table with a single sheet of paper; he snatched it into his hand, he stared at the restricted note. It was a letter addressed to someone, but the name and the content of the letter were all blacked out. The only thing not silenced by the blotches of ink were the initials at the very bottom of the letter: O.H. He didn't have the time to continue to think about it, because something had crossed his mind. Pivoting, his eyes met the eyes that were easily the size of himself, very awake, and very alert.
The hostile gaze was sharp, thin black slits for pupils encapsulated by a sickly golden color only further added to its hardened gaze. He stood there, watching the snake suspiciously as the scars on its head began to contort and shine a hue of dull green. Its pupils shrank, while its large form began to vibrate loudly against the stone creating a not-so-subtle hum of agony. And at that very moment, the possessed, masked and cloaked dead man fell through the same hole in the ceiling he had fallen through himself. The snake remained still, eyes trained on the one who disturbed it. The knight quickly got into a fighting stance, letting go of the page clasped in his hand, allowing it to float lonesomely to the ground not so far away, and picked up his instrument from his waist. The undead across from him simply removed the mask on his face, showing the grinning form of his lifeless skull, while pushing his cloak to the side on one side, showing the various masks that were held along the lining of said cloak. Picking one out of the three, the walking remains placed it on its face and prepared itself for the clash to come, letting the flickers of an unceasing flame start to tinge his fingers, illuminating his form eerily while also slowly encroaching its way up into the palm and up the arms.
'This is going to be a rough one'