Chapter Text
Breath.
The hot air lingers as the man stares up at his opponent.
Breath. Step. Breath.
The myriad of foreboding trees hadn't helped the knight as he'd previously thought, their gnarled roots jutting out just enough to trip him up whilst his opponent leapt and bounded through the foliage as if he had belonged.
Breath. Steady yourself.
A loud crash sounded as dense trees bent and snapped, the sound akin to brittle metal breaking as the Lurker lurched forward from its perch.
Pale skin that shone as if freshly wet, yet leathery looking as it slightly sagged on it's deceptively strong frame. A thin snout poked forward, slowly before curling up as it's four split jaw opened up to release a howl unlike any the knight had ever heard before. A cacophony of wails, screams of rage and hate, desperate pleas and pained screams that assailed his mind. It would be fair to say that his voice had joined the damned chorus as he held his ears, only for his very mind to be assailed by the cursed noise.
This is not your end
The knight stumbled forward as the lurker's near bone-like limbs stalked before him, sliding up and pushing down one of the ancient trees as a guttural clicking sound could be heard from it's throat. The wet texture of the creature seemed to pulse in excitement as droplets of it's form fell up to the sky, the common trait of all Outsiders. The knight's helmet had long since been torn from him, his eyes near ruined from the blow as he glared at the creature through a split veil of black and red. Total oblivion faced him, toying with him, and yet he could not feel anything. Or perhaps it was because he felt every emotion possible that culminated into a single, clear moment. The death of his childhood love, his brother, the destruction of his village, the pride of defying the entirety of the Abyssal Hollow, the kindness of his village who had supported him in his dream.
He had felt it all as a golden red light flashed in his eyes as the Lurker finally leapt forward to finish it's meal.
Breath.
The knight, Arcon, stood alone in the now quiet forest of the Abyssal Hollow, as the final convulsions of the Lurker played behind him. Where he had felt every emotion, he now felt hollow. Would it have been better to have embraced oblivion? To be consumed by the outsider and no longer feel pain? Arcon thought on this before turning back to the body of his opponent and stabbing the broken shaft of his spear into conical head of the creature. With a squelching twist, the spear shaft had been firmly lodged into the skull and brains of the creature. His breathing was ragged, his arm bled profusely from the chase and his legs burned like the forge. Yet he was somehow alive.
There is more work to be done. Wounds, Graves, Final rites.
Arcon fell to his knees. Everything had hurt. He wanted to sleep. His throat burned for water. His head throbbed in pain. His eyes... His vision was going black. How nice it would be, to fade kindly into the dark.
The air whistled through the trees for the first time since the hunt had began, pulling Arcon from his reverie. He'd rested long enough. There was much to do before he left.
The village had been a wreck. Walls fallen down, doors caved in, windows shattered, the gates that once held off the monsters smashed off of their hinges. Arcon looked about as he saw the dead village before him, walking past the familiar faces of everyone. He could only observe the carnage as he gazed upon the half eaten, the broken, the twisted and those lucky few who had died before the Lurker had even entered the village. When he had come to the fountain at the village square, a monument of Blackwood's independence and success, he looked to the body of their town mayor. The helmet had fallen off of the old knight, his fullplate caved into his body from a single massive blow as the tattered remains of his five crown seals fluttered across his chest. He had done so much, tried to save the town he had cherished, and died a heroes death. Arcon could only hope the mayor's soul had escaped the hungry maw of the Lurker.
The night slowly gave way to morning as Arcon set about the duties of building and collecting. If was near midday when the pyres had been properly built and the sun had fully set long before all of the villagers had been laid upon their final rests.
Words. Speak them.
Arcon tried to think of the words the old clerics had once given, their well wishes and laments for the dead. He opened his mouth, shutting it and opening again as a croaking sound came forth.
"I had known you all. A town of heroes against the darkness. A beacon to those who sought to go where no other had gone. I knew some of you more than others, but this had been my home. I only wish... Fundamentals, watch over these poor souls who had given their all to live up to your ideals."
Arcon paused, taking a steady breath as his hollow heart felt again, heavy with grief.
"Charity, cultivate this land for those who come after so that they may know no hardship. Greed, hoard this land so only those wanting shall find it."
"Patience, enforce these homes so that our story is not forgotten. Wrath, burn our words into the very air so that we may be heard."
"Humility, whisper of this land so that the monsters may not hear. Pride, boast of this land so that many will know of our deeds."
"Chastity, hold these walls so another tragedy like this may never come to pass again. Lust, spread your care so that only joy may come to those who come after."
"Temperance, bind this land so that only the worthy may claim it. Gluttony, entice those after so they may feast upon our bounty."
"Kindness, guide the faithful to sing your songs for those lost. Envy, record those who came so our lessons may be learned."
"Diligence, raise this land so it may prosper greater than before. Sloth, ease those who come next so they may live long and happily."
Arcon looked once more over the village before casting his torch onto the platform before him, the laid out bodies of every villager peaceful as the flames surrounded them. As the flames surrounded the mayor, the magic of the seals began to crack as magic evaporated into the air, turning the red flames golden. Finally, with a last, shaky breath, Arcon looked to the sky for his final prayer.
"Authority, command my steps as I step forth onto this new path."
The exhaustion and pain of the wounds, malnourishment and sleep deprivation finally caught up to Arcon as his legs buckled underneath, his consciousness lost long before he hit the ground.
The morning sun shone over the village and the remnants of the night before. It wasn't until the sun had reached it's zenith that the young man named Arcon stood up and looked to the remains of the villagers. The fire had done its job, leaving only the the warped full plate of the mayor and the various pieces of armor from the towns militia.
The ruined settlement of Blackwood stood all around Arcon as he tried looking around. His eyes, damaged as they were, only saw red and black as he began to cough. Gazing to his hand, vision tinted red as it was, seeing dark flecks on his hand which he could only assume was blood. Right, he'd lost consciousness before he'd been able to properly give himself any medical attention of any kind. It hadn't helped that he'd slept outside on the dirt and now held a fever on top of his broken ankle, multiple lesions and broken ribs. He only hoped that one of the healing potions the apothecary had would ease the pain, if only somewhat.
Limping through the silent town, he reached the apothecary's house. It's roof had fallen in, most likely from the weight of the deceptively thin looking Lurker from the night before last. The door was ajar, thrown open in a panic during the attack and yet to be closed. Walking through the wreckage and the fallen ceiling beam, Arcon found several ingredients strewn about, alongside several potion bottles. Many were broken, multicolored stains on pieces of glass crunched underfoot as Arcon set about looking for his prize. It hadn't been until he went into the cellar that Arcon had found anything of use, pulling five intact bottles up and dusting the dirt from their labels. Quaffing the contents as quickly as possible, Arcon felt his entire body burn as the magic from the potion worked to mend his body. He forced his eyes shut as they itched, held his sides as ribs shifted back into place, removing them from his own lung and repairing that.
The morning sun shone over the village and it's remnants, filtered through the roof of the old apothecary's house. Arcon woke once more, blinking and groaning as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Everything hurt and he was pretty sure he'd coughed up blood in his sleep, based on the pool dried on the ground and his face. He blinked a couple of times before sitting up, looking around and searching through the village once more. He would need supplies if he wanted to get to the nearest port. He had said his prayers for the village, inscribed the names of all who had come before for those who would arrive after, and said all of his goodbyes to the home he had once knew. The silence of the village was his only companion as he went about collecting everything he would need. Food, clothes and a new spear. He turned, ready to finally set off when a motion caught his eye. A single crow, standing atop the fountain, stared down to Arcon.
"You're free to the food. They won't be needing it anymore."
The crow cocked it's head to Arcon, as if it understood the young man's words before turning and flying away. Arcon nodded before wrapping a black cloak over his head and setting off, leaving the Blackwood behind.