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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.

Chapter Text

It wasn't long for the journey to the coast. Arcon stood at the shores of the beach they had landed on nearly two years ago. He'd not understood, but his family had come to this gods forsaken land.

He never truly knew why, but he'd had his suspicions.

The young man sighed as he unwound the cloth, inspecting his wounds. They'd made progress healing, but they still ached. Looking out to the sea, Arcon gazed out and let his mind wander.
To a time when the only thing he needed to worry about was who he'd play with, who he would become friends with, who he might learn from.
Simpler times where the only thing one needed to worry about was not from where your next meal would come from, but what time you would need to be home to eat.

Serenity.

Breathing deeply, the young knight stripped himself of armor, taking up his nearby axe and began to chop down trees. There was little chance for a supply ship to pass by the colony and a mage he was not, so calling for someone would be out of the question as well. So, he'd need to trust in Pride and build his own escape.
The only problem was that he didn't know the first thing about building a ship.
Arcon frowned, looking once more to the horizon as the sun began it's descent beyond the horizon. He'd already taken down two trees, so perhaps that would be all for the day. No sense in letting beds go to waste.

Day after day Arcon would continue on with his work. Every once in a while he'd feel the cold eyes of an Unfamiliar, not knowing if they were a Seeker, Lurker, Fleshsinger or, Fundamentals forbid, a Trespasser.
It certainly hadn't made his rest very restful, needing to constantly be on vigil. Despite the tension he'd felt, instincts screaming at him that he needed to be cautious and alert, a feeling of peace easily washed over him as the weeks continued. Perhaps Vigilance had blessed him instead? Perhaps that was the reason for his continued work despite the desperation for sleep.
All that remained was the need to water proof the vessel, the general ship wasn't anything glorious but it would at least have enough room for supplies, a place to sleep and a sail to catch the wind.

That's when he felt it. The sickening nausea and tightening of muscles on his bones, the scent of blood in the air. Arcon's breathing quickened, panic setting in as the worst fear he'd held came true. He'd turned to the tree line previously used for timber as the lumbering form of a Trespasser had appeared. Pale skin stretched like parchment drying over all too thick muscles, tepid saliva dripping from its horrid flower like mouth. What little dripped on the ground began sprouting strange and terrifying flowers from what was once sand.
Arcon could feel the creature's eyes on him, or rather the idea of its eyes on him. It could feel his pressence and it almost seemed to chuckle as a low rumble filled the air as it took another step forward. Gripping his spear and a salvaged sword he'd been using to shave wood down, he spared a glance to his breastplate and swore. Though it mattered little against a monster such as this as all five parts of its mouth contracted like something in bloom before spreading to the full star shape in a screech so horrid that it felt maddening. He couldn't stop himself from screaming along as he clutched his head in agony before his feet began rushing forward.

The Trespasser charged forward, like a twisted centaur as arms slapped onto the ground where hooves or legs would be. Arcon could barely see where he was going, his vision and hearing still ringing from the beast's opening attack. Sliding under a blow, Arcon thrust forward with his spear to stab his behind where a knee would be. Scrambling back to his feet, Arcon tried to slash out with his sword before the monstrosity could turn on him. Desperate.
That was all he could describe his actions as. So desperate, that he hadn't seen the tail slam into his arm and throwing him a good distance away from where the fight had started. His sword stuck out, sheathed in the sand like a grave marker as Arcon could feel his left arm broken.
Tears mixed with sweat, blood and sand as he struggled to right himself. He could feel the thunderous footsteps of the Trespasser as he leaned against his spear for support. He stared at the sword, one his friend had made so long ago, as a heavy feeling settled over him.

Familiar... yet so strange...calm.

The blood flowing through his veins, each beat of the heart and the slow rise and fall of his lungs. Everything else around him muted as everything shifted. Golden sands and blue oceans paled, taking on a silvery hue. He could feel outwards, a strange yet comforting feeling as he sidestepped the Trespasser's blow.
His arm still hurt, but it felt fine. Arcon held his spear, his face devoid of emotion as his opponent went to sweep his legs from beneath him. Fluid, like water, Arcon leapt atop the trunk like arm of the Trespasser, a spin of his spear opening two arteries on the beast's arm. Like a hurricane, Arcon felt as though he stood in the center of everything. A slight dodge lead to another artery pouring precious lifeblood from his opponent as it lunged to bite Arcon in two.
Merely leaning back, he seemed to float down before landing on his feet. A quick spin between the legs and another two arteries were cut. All around him, strange new flora began to appear as the sand shifted and changed whilst the Trespasser screamed in fury and pain. Significant pools started to form as the creature's movements started to slow.

More cuts, more slight dodges as Arcon seemingly danced in place. At last the monster crashed to the earth, exhausted and bled dry before Arcon stood before it.
Where there should be rage, there was a strange fondness. As if he'd been sparring with an old friend rather than a terror worthy of several knights.

This is but the first

His spear stabbed into the monsters heart, and everything went black.