[center][b][h2]The Broken Crypt[/h2][/b][/center]

On he went through the strange, deathless land he was trapped in. The forest was far behind him now, but the mountain never seemed to get any closer. His feet were chafed and raw from walking for… how long had he been walking? Long enough to deplete his once pitiful food rations; now they had gone from pitiful to nonexistent. He hadn’t died of hunger yet though. His waterskin was also significantly lighter than it was upon his first awakening. He had been able to ration the water to just wet his mouth once it became too dry to breath normally. It was uncomfortable business, but it kept him alive for now. His head pounded from the limited water he gave himself, and his vision was blurred at times. His steps were even becoming clumsier as he walked on.

Artimus was his one beacon, his one attachment in this world. She floated overhead upon the wind that never blew, watching over him. She never seemed to tire, only landing when he could collapse to peck at him to get back up and continue on his journey, if it could be called that. With her, he was able to draw strength enough to continue toward the ever distant mountain… or was it a castle? He had stopped caring, but the question would resurface while he walked as a sort of game he would play to while away to time, if time even existed in this place. If it was a castle, maybe he would find people willing to help or people like the knight that had put a sword through his chest, the scar of which stood out against his flesh through the tear in his shirt. It was a mountain, what then? He could scale it, and then maybe there would be a lush valley on the other side filled with food and water.

He shook his head; he couldn’t let his thoughts get ahead of him. He must stay alert in this land in case another hostile soul like the rusted knight came after him. For the first time in… for the first time since he left the forest behind, the hunter came to a halt without collapsing to the ground. He looked around the area he found himself in; it looked like a graveyard filled with busted and moss-covered headstones. Small lamps blazed at the other end of the cemetery. Suddenly alert, Rook hefted his crossbow up and made his way toward the lamps as quietly as he could. As the light from the lamps bathed them in their luminescence, he could see the few remains of animals and humanoids alike that poked out of the graves or littered the ground.

Shaking off a cold shiver racing up his spine, he continued creeping toward the lamps. He came upon an ancient-looking crypt with the doors hanging askew and crumbling; the light belonged to two lanterns that hung on either side of the broken doors of stone. Rook approached the doors slowly and did his best to peer down into the crypt, but the dark was as thick as ink and impossible to see through. Carefully, he reached over and pulled one of the lanterns free and swung it out over the first step in an attempt to see down into the unknown, but the void was only punctured enough to see down to maybe the ninth step of the stairway.

As if the light illuminated his own thoughts, Rook suddenly remembered an important detail, not of his life before but of this new land he had overlooked in his state of mindlessly wandering toward the castle on high; he was being followed, but by who or what? A creature of the night perhaps, on with wicked claws that would snatch the skin from his bones with a single, lazy swipe through the air? Or perhaps it was the Rusted Knight come to kill him once more for crimes he knew nothing about, but he would not totally deny the possibility of being innocent of them, as he could only remember a handful of distorted memories of who he was before. Now that he was alert enough to think, he peered back into the void of the broken crypt. 

[i]”Maybe I could go down and find a place to hide and ambush whatever is following me? Though, it’s hard to tell what I’ll down there.”[/i] Looking away from the crypt, Rook set his eyes on his beloved bird; she sat, roosted on a nearby headstone. With a shrill whistle from his dry lips, Rook signaled for her to take flight and circle overhead. With a flutter of wings, the hawk took flight and began circling the lonely graveyard and her master. Rook turned back to the crypt, only now noticing what was left of carvings around the doors in the light if his lantern; there were all sorts of skeletal figures ground down from age and time in gruesome scenes of dragging people away or skewering them on pikes. Ignoring the ghastly images, Rook stepped into the abyss, comforted only by the circle of yellow light that enveloped him.

Step by broken step, Rook made his way down into the heart of the crypt. His cracked lantern shed light on the narrow walls that seemed to close in on him; the skeletal figures here were not eroded with age but stood out as if freshly carved into the ancient stone. Perhaps he was descending into Hell itself, escaping from the limbo of the above world. It was difficult to tell how long the staircase stretched on for, much like everything in this timeless land. How long had he been on the staircase now? Was he stuck walking down these broken stairs for eternity now? No, he had to keep what wits he had left about him and think… He was being followed, and he would find a place to hide and ambush his pursuer, whatever it may be. Then, his lantern shone light on an opening along the wall of the endless staircase; the opening was large enough to permit him to squeeze into it and be able to steady his crossbow slightly under him. Perfect. 

With the mind of a practiced hunter, Rook made the lantern look as though he had dropped it a few steps up from the opening and then crawled into the wall with great effort. He twisted around in the opening so he could see out onto the stairs, his boot kicking against something solid that was definitely not the wall. With another great amount of effort, he twisted around to look behind him, finding the opening went far deeper than he originally thought and that he was not its only occupant; there was a cracked and battered skeleton of some other poor soul near the end of the opening. Rook did his best to push the remain back away from him and squeeze further into the short tunnel and then twisted back around to take awkward aim out at the stairs, more concerned about his pursuer than exploring it fully at the moment.