[center][b][h2]The Rusted Knight[/h2][/b][/center]

After waking in this strange land, Rook had made his way through the forest and rested at a smaller stone that once could have been a shrub of some kind to drink a small portion of his water and eat a scrap of dried meat from his pack after feeding Artimus as well. After the short rest, he had began his trek through the forest yet again with Artimus watching over him from above.

Along the way, Rook spotted something in the distance and instinctually fell into a crouch behind a tree, signaling Artimus to land. The hawk landed on one of the stones a few feet from her master’s position. Rook leaned out carefully, examining the shape he saw; it wasn’t moving and seemed to hold the shape of a hare. The taste of salted meat made its way back into his mouth as he pulled his crossbow up to aim at the small creature, but he hesitated and then lowered the bow. It would be a waste to shoot it when he could just Artimus swoop down and kill the unsuspecting animal for him. So, with another signal from her master the great hawk launched herself from the stone and dove down at the hare, talons bared.

Her talons struck out as she neared the small animal, closing around it in preparation to scoop it up in one fluid motion. It would have been a beautiful and graceful kill, but her talons struck stone. The force of the hit sent the hawk spinning head over bottom to the ground away from the stone shape. Rook threw caution to the nonexistent winds and came out from his hiding spot and ran to the hawk. He crouched down next to her and began examining her for any injuries, but she seemed to be fine, other than a bruised ego and some slight disorientation. The hunter stroked the head of the hawk to comfort her when something moved behind him, unseen and unheard as his full attention was on the wellbeing of his companion.

Something in the shape of a man pulled himself free from one of the stones, breaking pieces of rubble from his arms and shoulders. He was clad in what once must have been polished mail, but now the mail hung in rusted portions about his dilapidated frame. He stepped forward and leaned down to grab hold of the piece of stone Artimus had attempted to kill and pulled it free of the ground below; it was but the top piece of an old helm in the same condition as the thing’s armor. Sliding the helm over his scarred features, the rusted warrior pulled what was left of a claymore from its sheath. 

The sound of the age-old remnants of sword sliding from the haggard sheath is what caused Rook to turn from Artimus. With a mighty swing, the rusted warrior swung his claymore at the hunter. He attempted to move out of the way of the blow, but wasn’t fast enough; the sword cut into his arm and sent him rolling across the ground. Rook had barely pulled himself into a crouching position when the warrior charged him down, screeching, “You stole her! You stole her! She was mine! [i]Mine![/i]”

The rusted warrior kicked Rook square in the chest as he charged, slamming him into one of the stones. He brought his rust-caked sword to Rook’s throat and stared him in the eye. His assailant seemed to be in so much pain and confusion. He made to pull the blade across Rook’s throat, but Artimus soared through the air and struck out at the knight’s head, screeching and clawing. Rook took the opportunity to regain his footing and pull the axe free from his belt. He ran at his attacker and swung the axe at it wildly, but his blow was caught by a portion of armor still clinging to the berserker. With a lucky flail of his arm, the rusted warrior sent Artimus away and aimed another swing at Rook, who was able to narrowly duck under the blow, but his wound was taking its toll and slowing him down.

“She was mine,” the warrior screeched again before slamming its shoulder into Rook’s chest and toppling him over. He made a grab for his axe, but the warrior stomped down, hard on the hunter’s wrist. He heard a sickening crack come from his wrist; it had shattered under the weight of the armor-clad foot of his crazed attacker. The warrior twisted his foot over the wrist painfully and knelt down so he was face to face with his prey. Rook could now see the man’s face once again and the pain behind the eyes barely visible behind the helm of rusted steel. The warrior pressed his face closer to Rook’s and whispered, “She was mine. You… stole her.” There was the sound of metal cutting through air, a sharp pain in his chest, and then nothing.

He awoke with a gasp, taking in sweet air and filling his lung. He sat up quickly and looked around. He was alone in a circle of stones resembling trees, no not alone; a hawk fluttered down and landed on the ground next to him. She nipped at his finger affectionately. Artimus, she was the only thing he knew in this land. Other than her, he just had flashes of scenes from what must have been his life before this place. With a groan, Rook stood and began walking again, intent on getting out of this strange forest of stone.

[i]”How long… how long have I been here? A week? No way of knowing. I just have to keep going. This forest… or whatever it is goes on forever. Am I going to end up like that… thing? How am I still here? It killed me, ran its sword through my chest. The rip in my shirt is there. I still have Artimus,”[/i] his thoughts beat against the inside of his skull relentlessly as he trudged through the forest of stone. His footfalls were slow and measured as he tried to walk with as much grace and softness as he could muster, not wanting to alert anything nearby of his presence. Artimus soared through the air overhead, ever watchful over him in this strange land. He kept his crossbow loaded and ready at all times now, ready for anything that could live in the place he found himself in. It was impossible to determine how long he’d been walking through the stone forest after he had awoken there. 

He came to a halt next to one of the trees of stone, looking out over the land beyond this forest at long last. Looking out at the unknown land, he swore he could see something on the horizon. A mountain maybe? Or a castle? No way of knowing unless he made his way there. It was better than wandering through the forest of stone.