Much of what happens here is left up to the reader to interpret. If anyone is interested in it, I may add more later. Please comment and critique.
Quote:
XXXXXA stained hand reached out toward the fire, cradling its warmth. The shriveled and broken vessel of a man hunched over the small torch. Darkness pervaded every corner of his realm. Only this single flame brought light and warmth where there was none. In silence, the vessel watched the flickering flame as it crackled and spit embers into the air. His starved body was frail and empty, like a hollowed out doll. Shade had paled his flesh and darkened his sunken eyes. The flame lit his dead features and his deteriorated form, casting shadows across him. Carved into his chest was a pentagram of arcane workings. Dirt and dried blood covered the naked creature. Yet despite his condition, he found reason to live in the soft glow of the fire.
Let the guttering flame not stay you. Press on, struggle and cling to life!
The voice itched at the fringes of his imagination, but part of the vessel did not believe it was his mind. It was something distinct, almost real. It was like static droning in his brain, beckoning him away from the fire that warmed him. The fire that gave him life.
The shadow is almost upon thee.
The vessel curled up with knuckles pressed against his temples, trying to block out the voice. The tiny flame wavered and the vessel knew that it would soon die. When it did, so too would he. The vessel scrambled on the ground, feeling at the light's border where the glow faded into darkness. He could still hear the voice penetrating his mind as he struggled to his feet and stepped forward. He glanced at the fire in regret and passed from its warmth. His eyes were blind as he stumbled forward into the open maw of black, unable to see a destination. The voice continued to call out to him, telling him to push forward until he could no longer. Weak, hungry, cold, he collapsed. Rough rock and sand pressed against his cheek. It was cool and wet against his skin.
Seek the will to live. Yearn for existence and wield it as thine weapon.
The vessel did not try to silence the voice. He stretched out across the ground, feeling with his fingers and toes. His hand crept across something that was not rock and he paused. It was smooth and cold. Slowly the vessel moved toward it, half dragging himself. With both hands he felt it. He could make out edges and sharp points. A glow reflected across the object and he saw the frame of a suit of armor. The pale blue glow of the moon penetrated the splits in the stone, casting a shimmering coat over the armor and the sword that punctured its breastplate. A corpse stared out from the armor, watching the vessel as his eyes moved across it. His hands moved to the helm and pulled it free of its former master. The decaying husk grinned and bowed its head. Piece by piece, the vessel removed the armor and pulled the sword free. The thankless corpse sat naked, leaning against the rock as the vessel donned the armor. The coolness and weight felt familiar and natural. Armored and armed, the vessel found strength to stand. He looked down at the corpse, feeling a sting of remorse in its demise. His hand felt across the breastplate to the gash where the sword had punctured it.
Struggle and survive, empty vessel. Break the chains of bondage.
The voice swam in his thoughts again. The vessel turned from the corpse and started forward again. What little light had been afforded was now gone, replaced by distant noises that rang throughout the caverns. From the darkness the vessel saw moving silhouettes twist and writhe. Like animals they moaned and cried, but they were not like animals. Their forms reflected his own. A single one sat up to stare at the vessel. For a long moment the vessel waited as the creature stared at him. At last the thing turned and skulked away into the deep darkness.
Leave them. They are cursed, damned.
The vessel heeded the voice and left the wandering souls. As his footsteps echoed further into the depths of the caverns, the creatures swarmed in the darkness, tracing the path he walked.
XXXXXAfter some great time, the cavern grew less wide and began to narrow into a single corridor that branched out into several twisting halls. Pathways were carved into the edges of the floor where water flowed, sparkling with a faint glimmer that provided minimal lighting. Guided by the light of the water, the vessel walked the long hall, ignoring the passages that ran off to the sides. Granite walls extended before the vessel, reaching forward into eternity. The vessel walked until he grew tired and paused a moment to rest. Not since seeing the dark beings had the voice seen fit to intrude upon the vessel's thoughts and for the first time he felt alone without it. He waited and waited, but it did not speak. He breathed slowly, listening for the voice in his thoughts and then came a sound. He held his breath and strained to hear. Again came the mad mutterings of something further in. For a moment the vessel hesitated, then finally overcome by his curiosity, pursued the noise down one of the halls. The hall was straight, then turned and was long and narrow again. He wandered the empty passage, following the dull light for several minutes. After some time, he came to a bend in the path and halted abruptly. Ahead he saw the source of the muttering. It's shape mirrored the vessel, but the flesh was not flesh and its face was not a face. Its body was black brimstone, cracked and spitting cinders. Its face was caved with crags and tiny flames that burned within its skull. Though the creature had not a mouth to speak, it spoke with the crackling of the fire.
“A tarnished black knight comes this way,” it said.
The walls seemed to repeat the creature's words as he spoke them. The constant uttering surrounded the vessel and carefully he regarded the creature. In turn, the creature watched him and after a moment's pause, spoke again.
“You have no soul, no name, and no voice. A human without a soul is a puppet. A puppet without a name is an empty vessel. A vessel without a voice is less than a husk.”
The creature rose, wavering in its steps as it approached the vessel. It raised a hand touched with fire and pressed the hand to the vessel's breast. A soft glow heated the breastplate and warmed the vessel's chilled body.
“To a lifeless husk, I give you sound. Speak,” it said.
The vessel felt something envelop his body, creeping into his throat. Then the vessel spoke.
“Am I alive?” he asked in a course voice.
“No,” answered the creature.
The creature of ember slipped back and sat with the wall to its back. Its fires grew less bright, as if it had given a piece of its own soul to the vessel.
“Life perished many years ago. You are but an empty vessel, left to wander this black world,” it said.
“Then I have nothing?” the vessel asked.
“Only a voice. Yet you must find a name and a soul to be made whole,” answered the creature.
The vessel had no soul to give expression to the emotions he felt. It was a despair he had felt since he first saw the flickering glow of fire. The creature too seemed to know this pain. Without eyes, it gazed upon the vessel and raised an open palm towards him.
“In time you shall find a name, o' nameless knight of black,” it said, gazing into the black gleam of the vessel's armor.
The creature pointed down the hall. “Tread this path. Seek the womb of the world and find for yourself a soul.”
The vessel nodded and stepped past the ember creature. The vessel watched over his shoulder as the creature's flames flickered and died and the creature collapsed in ashes. The vessel could feel nothing for it. As he pressed forward, he regarded his own existence. A vessel with a voice, but no name and no soul. Yet he had something akin to a name – nameless knight. That was what the creature had called him and so he would name himself until he discovered one of his own. So the nameless knight continued down the dark corridor, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole.
Let the guttering flame not stay you. Press on, struggle and cling to life!
The voice itched at the fringes of his imagination, but part of the vessel did not believe it was his mind. It was something distinct, almost real. It was like static droning in his brain, beckoning him away from the fire that warmed him. The fire that gave him life.
The shadow is almost upon thee.
The vessel curled up with knuckles pressed against his temples, trying to block out the voice. The tiny flame wavered and the vessel knew that it would soon die. When it did, so too would he. The vessel scrambled on the ground, feeling at the light's border where the glow faded into darkness. He could still hear the voice penetrating his mind as he struggled to his feet and stepped forward. He glanced at the fire in regret and passed from its warmth. His eyes were blind as he stumbled forward into the open maw of black, unable to see a destination. The voice continued to call out to him, telling him to push forward until he could no longer. Weak, hungry, cold, he collapsed. Rough rock and sand pressed against his cheek. It was cool and wet against his skin.
Seek the will to live. Yearn for existence and wield it as thine weapon.
The vessel did not try to silence the voice. He stretched out across the ground, feeling with his fingers and toes. His hand crept across something that was not rock and he paused. It was smooth and cold. Slowly the vessel moved toward it, half dragging himself. With both hands he felt it. He could make out edges and sharp points. A glow reflected across the object and he saw the frame of a suit of armor. The pale blue glow of the moon penetrated the splits in the stone, casting a shimmering coat over the armor and the sword that punctured its breastplate. A corpse stared out from the armor, watching the vessel as his eyes moved across it. His hands moved to the helm and pulled it free of its former master. The decaying husk grinned and bowed its head. Piece by piece, the vessel removed the armor and pulled the sword free. The thankless corpse sat naked, leaning against the rock as the vessel donned the armor. The coolness and weight felt familiar and natural. Armored and armed, the vessel found strength to stand. He looked down at the corpse, feeling a sting of remorse in its demise. His hand felt across the breastplate to the gash where the sword had punctured it.
Struggle and survive, empty vessel. Break the chains of bondage.
The voice swam in his thoughts again. The vessel turned from the corpse and started forward again. What little light had been afforded was now gone, replaced by distant noises that rang throughout the caverns. From the darkness the vessel saw moving silhouettes twist and writhe. Like animals they moaned and cried, but they were not like animals. Their forms reflected his own. A single one sat up to stare at the vessel. For a long moment the vessel waited as the creature stared at him. At last the thing turned and skulked away into the deep darkness.
Leave them. They are cursed, damned.
The vessel heeded the voice and left the wandering souls. As his footsteps echoed further into the depths of the caverns, the creatures swarmed in the darkness, tracing the path he walked.
XXXXXAfter some great time, the cavern grew less wide and began to narrow into a single corridor that branched out into several twisting halls. Pathways were carved into the edges of the floor where water flowed, sparkling with a faint glimmer that provided minimal lighting. Guided by the light of the water, the vessel walked the long hall, ignoring the passages that ran off to the sides. Granite walls extended before the vessel, reaching forward into eternity. The vessel walked until he grew tired and paused a moment to rest. Not since seeing the dark beings had the voice seen fit to intrude upon the vessel's thoughts and for the first time he felt alone without it. He waited and waited, but it did not speak. He breathed slowly, listening for the voice in his thoughts and then came a sound. He held his breath and strained to hear. Again came the mad mutterings of something further in. For a moment the vessel hesitated, then finally overcome by his curiosity, pursued the noise down one of the halls. The hall was straight, then turned and was long and narrow again. He wandered the empty passage, following the dull light for several minutes. After some time, he came to a bend in the path and halted abruptly. Ahead he saw the source of the muttering. It's shape mirrored the vessel, but the flesh was not flesh and its face was not a face. Its body was black brimstone, cracked and spitting cinders. Its face was caved with crags and tiny flames that burned within its skull. Though the creature had not a mouth to speak, it spoke with the crackling of the fire.
“A tarnished black knight comes this way,” it said.
The walls seemed to repeat the creature's words as he spoke them. The constant uttering surrounded the vessel and carefully he regarded the creature. In turn, the creature watched him and after a moment's pause, spoke again.
“You have no soul, no name, and no voice. A human without a soul is a puppet. A puppet without a name is an empty vessel. A vessel without a voice is less than a husk.”
The creature rose, wavering in its steps as it approached the vessel. It raised a hand touched with fire and pressed the hand to the vessel's breast. A soft glow heated the breastplate and warmed the vessel's chilled body.
“To a lifeless husk, I give you sound. Speak,” it said.
The vessel felt something envelop his body, creeping into his throat. Then the vessel spoke.
“Am I alive?” he asked in a course voice.
“No,” answered the creature.
The creature of ember slipped back and sat with the wall to its back. Its fires grew less bright, as if it had given a piece of its own soul to the vessel.
“Life perished many years ago. You are but an empty vessel, left to wander this black world,” it said.
“Then I have nothing?” the vessel asked.
“Only a voice. Yet you must find a name and a soul to be made whole,” answered the creature.
The vessel had no soul to give expression to the emotions he felt. It was a despair he had felt since he first saw the flickering glow of fire. The creature too seemed to know this pain. Without eyes, it gazed upon the vessel and raised an open palm towards him.
“In time you shall find a name, o' nameless knight of black,” it said, gazing into the black gleam of the vessel's armor.
The creature pointed down the hall. “Tread this path. Seek the womb of the world and find for yourself a soul.”
The vessel nodded and stepped past the ember creature. The vessel watched over his shoulder as the creature's flames flickered and died and the creature collapsed in ashes. The vessel could feel nothing for it. As he pressed forward, he regarded his own existence. A vessel with a voice, but no name and no soul. Yet he had something akin to a name – nameless knight. That was what the creature had called him and so he would name himself until he discovered one of his own. So the nameless knight continued down the dark corridor, allowing the darkness to swallow him whole.
