A Requiem Of Madness And Depression (Verse II)

[Disillusioned]

((Closed to Unfulfilled. All bunnying was pre-approved))

There are certain emotions that mankind simply cannot live without. Without these particular emotions, it could be said that a person is not truly alive. A man lacking these emotions would breathe and think, but it would not truly be living. Such souls live a half-life, never fully truly appreciating the sights and sounds that life has to offer. It could be said that such people were better off dead. Most people who end up in such a state tend to think that as well.

These emotions are the most important to mankind, and many people could probably name several different types of emotions that they themselves could not live without. However, there is one emotion that all people will name. One single emotion that fuels humans to enormous heights and gives them a potential that few species can match. This all-important emotion is hope. For without hope, a man cannot dream. Without dreams, a man cannot live.

And as the lonely figure of Troy Priam curdled up upon a rotting bench in a dank, small, and cold room, he could think no reason to continue to have hope. As he brought his sheathed sword close to his chest, he could feel the beat of his still living heart. How he longed to silence that beat. Every pulse was a reminder of his failure, every breath was a sad tribute to those he had let down.

He could still see the faces. Every soldier sees faces and shapes in their dreams, no matter what they tell their friends and family. Some seen faces of fallen comrades, others see the faces of slain enemies. Still others see faces of those they left behind at home and somehow never saw again. The faces Troy saw fell into all of those categories.

He saw the faces of the men he failed. He heard their death cries echoing in his ear as they screamed in agony. He saw the face of his dead friend who had died in order to keep Troy alive. Most of all, he saw the faces of his family. His mother, father, and younger sister were all waiting for him to come home, but Troy could not bring himself to return. He left his loved ones in a state of doubt, and from that doubt they would come to the conclusion that he had died in battle. Perhaps abandoning his family like that was the worst sin Troy had committed.

A sudden cheer erupted from outside the room, instantly snapping Troy away from the nightmares that played on in his mind. When the crowd in an underground fight arena like the one Troy was currently resting in cheered that loudly, it could mean only one thing. Someone had just died. An outsider would wonder just how badly a knight would have to fall to be participating in such a cruel sport, but that would be another story for another time.

“All right Knight! Your up! Do whatever you do to get your head in the game! Drink some alcohol, cut yourself, kill a baby. Hell, I don’t really care. Just get ready.” Shouted the ringmaster as he slammed open the door leading to Troy’s tiny room. For a few short moments Troy did nothing, but before the man could bark another order, Troy simply nodded in acknowledgment. The ringmaster was no fool, and the minute his eyes locked with the cold eyes of Troy Priam the ringmaster simply shook his head. He had seen this type of fighter before, a man obviously down on his luck. Not that the ringmaster really cared about Troy, it was just that those cold eyes gave him the creeps. The man preferred to chat with people that at least seemed to care what happened to themselves.

“In any case you’ve got three minutes. Hurry up.” The man muttered as he turned around and began to walk away. Normally, the fighters would usually ask about their opponents or at least acknowledge his existence. This one just seemed dead.

“What’s with these fighters nowadays? Never seen such a depressed guy in all my life. You’d think someone about to risk his life would be a little emotional, but nope, this guy’s colder than my ex-wife. And what the hell was with that guy from the last match? Sadistic freak. Those last three hits were just plain violent. Sheesh.” The ringmaster muttered to himself as he walked off. He could not wait for this lousy day to be done and go home. For some reason, the man could only stomach so much violence in one day.

Troy heard the man’s exiting speech as the door slammed shut behind him, sending a loud echo through the decaying room. Yet the former knight did in fact know why he was not the least bit emotional about risking his life. If he had anything worth risking, Troy would certainly be elsewhere right now. Perhaps spending time with his beloved sister, or perhaps atoning for his sins. Yet atonement seemed impossible to Troy Priam, so with nothing left Troy had decided to do the only thing he still knew how to do properly. Fight.

“But I’m not really risking my life. In truth, I’m already dead.” Troy whispered to himself, with only the rotting walls of the room to hear his quiet truth.

[Unfulfilled]

While one man may think that hope is the most important emotion in all of humanity, there is a polar emotion that has the same dramatic effects as its opposite. A fuel that drives mankind to greater lengths to do the unthinkable in a non-characteristic state that is foreign to them. No, hope isn’t the only emotion to drive men. Hate does the job just nicely.

A lone man stood inside of the five sided pentagonal arena. The chained surroundings made sure all the action stayed within its grey ominous walls. It didn’t take much time for a trained warrior to realize that one wrong move can not only get you caught in the vice, but also guarantee your death. A lone man stood inside of the only home he knew.

Regal Burnswidth wasn’t sure exactly why he did these fights. The crowd hated him, the woman despised him, and the pay was very unforgiving considering the fact your life was on the line. Yet the Sword Demon wasn’t sure why people allowed themselves to live a life of little to no meaning. So he figured it was just a chemical imbalance of the planets and eventually they would all make sense again. Until that time he would slaughter those in his way to becoming the Saint of Swords.

That in itself had always sparked a seed of hate inside Regal’s black heart. He was known far and wide as the Demon of Swords. But that was only the silver medal. To obtain a title that demanded respect without him showing his blade first he would have to defeat the current Saint of Swords. It all seemed so tacky to Regal. But if the demon must kill the Saint than so be it. But first….

A large built man entered the arena that Regal had quickly called his home. The bloodstained floor his bed he gladly would sleep upon should all of that blood been shed by his own Tenacity. He lightly patted his blade and drew it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A loud voice called forth during the cries of the audience. “I present to you, our three minute challenge! Should this man,” The master pointed to the demon. “Regal Burnswidth defeat or last three minutes against our CHAMPION,” Now the crowd was off their feet screaming the name of their hero. “GUSTAV BERNATINI, THE EXECUTIONAR!”

“I’m going to chop your pretty little head off right where your feminine white hair ends!” Gustav shouted over to Regal.

“I need only two hits to humiliate you, and then one more to kill you.” Regal whispered to himself as he smiled confidently. Three minutes? Regal thought dismally. I need only one…

The bell echoed in the arena as the crowd cried out ‘Gustav’ and booed Regal. The larger axe wielding man charged at Regal, the point of his hilt a sharp end as he tried to impale Regal. Ce’st-La-Vi

It had happened so fast. The crowd’s cries that were so loud a moment ago had now turned into a dead murmuring silence. Regal had slid to his left and cut the belt of his foe off and tripping him with his left foot. His second blow was a direct stab into the man’s large round posterior causing him to shoot up to his knees in screaming agony, and those screams were silenced as Regal decapitated his foe.

“And your winner…by unnecessary overkill…Regal Burnswidth.” The enthusiasm in the Ring Master’s tone was all gone, replaced by a pitiful murmur as if he was trying to repress vomit. A few brave members of the crowd clapped maybe once or twice, but no more. Regal left his “home” to be escorted to the back where he would be paid.

“What was my time?” Regal said casually. A guard looked at him in shock as he studdered his reply.

“A-a-a-a minute and five seconds.”

“Damn,” Regal muttered loudly as a scowl of dissapointment etched along his face. “To slow.”

[Disillusioned]

The path that led to the arena was long and cold; the only company for the fighter who walked it would be whatever cries the crowd decided to shout out as the fighter walked on. In Troy’s case, the crowd remained awfully silent. But then again, judging from the mess being cleaned up in the ring (the “mess” being a headless corpse), it didn’t take long for Priam to figure out the reason for the silence. Troy also assumed that the smug white-haired man being lead out of the ring caused the “mess.”

Yet the previous fighter was not the concern of Troy, no matter how skilled or sadistic the man may have been. As the chains around the arena were temporarily lowered to allow Troy access to the ring, all other thoughts faded away from Troy except for the upcoming battle. It was a sad way for a man to forget his pain, but at the moment it was the only relief Troy had. No matter how sad it may have been, Troy was more than willing to take that relief.

“Okay…well now for our next event. A newcomer in one corner, a grizzled veteran in the other! Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you, who do you think will be the victor? Perhaps the young Troy Priam?” Several cheers erupted from the crowd, but it was nothing noteworthy. Yet Troy didn’t really care how much the crowd liked him. Priam was here to forget his pain, not to impress a bloodthirsty mob.

“Well if you’re not too happy with the young, how about the old? In the other corner, a two year veteran, BRENDAN HUNTER!” The crowd immediately erupted into a much larger roar as a middle-aged man appeared at the other end of the arena. Much like Troy, Brendan ignored the crowd and moved straight to the arena. He did, however, stop to gently touch the hand of a woman near the front row. The woman had an absolute look of fear upon her, which was understandable considering her husband was about to risk his life.

The two shared only a brief moment of affection, and then Brendan quickly stepped into the ring. Immediately after doing so, the chains around the pentagon-shaped battlefield were raised, completely locking the two fighters in. Brendan twitched slightly at the noise the chains made, while Troy remained emotionless as ever. The former knight did take notice of Brendan’s weapon, which happened to be a thin rapier strapped to the man’s belt. It wasn’t strapped for long though, for as soon as the bell rang the man quickly yanked the blade out.

Troy’s own blade carried a special significance to the former knight. All one had to do was hear the name of the blade and they would quickly understand just how Troy felt about himself. Troy had named the blade Disillusioned, and even though the blade was as perfect as it ever was, it served as a constant reminder of Troy’s failures. For to be Disillusioned is to be disappointed, and that was exactly what Troy was. A disappointment. But all such thoughts quickly left Troy momentarily as Brendan lunged forward and Troy’s hand found the hilt of his blade.

Troy quickly shifted into one of his favorite attacks styles known as Batto-jutsu. The stance would only last for a moment, for the entire purpose of the style was to be able to unsheathe and attack in the same motion, and that’s exactly what Troy did. Disillusioned shined brightly as it flew from out from its sheath, instantly batting away Brendan’s incoming rapier. The crowd cheered as a few sparks danced into life, while Brendan quickly leapt back to get out of Troy’s range.

Brendan quickly shifted into a fencing-like stance with his rapier extended in front of him. In response, Troy coolly mimicked the man’s style, except Troy let his blade dangle loosely next to his feet. Brendan quickly took the bait, seeing an opening where there really wasn’t one. The man quickly lunged forward once more, his sword aimed at Troy’s supposedly exposed chest. Yet if Troy knew how to do one thing properly, that one thing would be how to fight. Priam quickly shifted his weight to his side while raising his blade to parry Brendan’s rapier as he did so. The two warriors locked eyes as Brendan let out a gasp and sloppily leapt back once more. Troy could have claimed the advantage, but instead remained where he was.

“Looks like our veteran is a bit pressed at the moment folks! Our youthful contender seems to have the upper hand in this match.” The ringmaster announced as the crowd let out a murmur of agreement, as well as a few cheers for blood. This did not matter to Troy, for he was paying attention to Brendan, who at this point let out a small cough. It was quite clear that although Brendan was by no means old, he probably should have retired a year or so ago. Troy could in no way know that Brendan liked fighting in this arena even less than Troy, but it was painfully clear that the man’s health continued to deteriorate as the match moved on.

“You’re outclassed.” Troy whispered in a voice that only Brendan could hear. Troy’s foe frowned at a remark he knew was true, but the frown quickly disappeared as Brendan charged forward. Yet Disillusioned quickly blocked Brendan’s rapier that had been aimed at Troy’s feet, causing the frown to resurface. Priam instantly saw his opening, and quickly switched his grip on his blade so that Troy’s blade was reversed, pointing downwards toward the ground. Before the aged Brendan could react to defend himself, Disillusioned flew upwards towards Brendan’s face.

An ear-piercing scream shrieked through the arena (it seemed more feminine than masculine) along with a loud cheer from the crowd. The wounded Brendan quickly let his rapier fall to the surface as he gripped his now badly bleeding face. The man fell to his knees as blood began to fall to the white mat below, causing more bloodstains to appear on the already heavily stained mat. It took only a half a second for Brendan to realize that the fight was not finished, but that half a second was more than enough time for Troy to place the tip of his blade at Brendan’s exposed throat, causing the man to freeze up instantly.

At that point in time, Troy’s focus returned to the outside world, and his senses were immediately bombarded by his surroundings. Troy heard the crowd cheering for him to finish off the wounded man, the look of fear in Brendan’s left eye (Troy’s slash had destroyed the man’s right eye), and Brendan’s wife screaming and barely being restrained by the guards next to the ring. Troy’s hand, which had so firmly gripped his blade before, began to shake as he realized the true horror of the moment, and Troy’s gaze shifted upwards as if to find an escape.

“The crowd has spoken Troy! Looks like they want blood! Give them what they want!” The ringmaster shouted as the mob screamed for Troy to finish the battle. The wife screamed as well, but for an entirely different reason. Troy’s hand shook one last time, as Priam’s icy gaze shifted towards the ringmaster. If the man didn’t know better, the ringmaster could have sworn that Troy was plotting to kill him. In truth, Troy was actually thinking about it. While Priam hated himself, he also hated scum that cheered for the death of a wounded man. Troy’s pain and nightmares returned in full swing, the price for momentarily forgetting them was that they would return even worse.

Troy violently twirled his blade, instantly removing the small out of blood at the tip of the sword. Brendan twinge in fear as his wife screamed once more, but in truth she had no real reason to scream. Troy quickly placed his blade back into his sheath as the crowds let out an almost unanimous boo. Troy heard Brendan sigh in relief as his wife finally made her way past the guards and to her husband. Had Troy stayed longer, he would have seen tears of joy in her eyes, but Priam was already on his way out.

“This battle is over. Lower the chains.” Troy ordered the guard outside of the ring. The guard hesitated for a moment, but decided it was for the best after glancing at Priam’s sword. Although Troy was stuck inside of the arena, if the knight moved fast enough he might just have enough range to cut the guard’s neck. It was a chance that the guard was not willing to take. A loud number of boos erupted from the crowd as Troy made his way towards the back area, and several people near Troy began to raise several empty beer bottles. However, an icy glare from Troy quickly made those people rethink the idea, but no glare could stop the immense shouting of the crowd.

“Okay! Okay! So the first match was too bloody, and this one wasn’t bloody enough! But don’t worry folks, for the Boss has a real treat for you! After all, carnage is all nice and fun, but there’s nothing like a little mud to get the blood rolling! Right guys?” Instantly whistles and catcalls quickly replaced the booing as two scantily clad women appeared and began to head towards the arena. Troy heard the announcer breathe a loud sigh of relief as one of the woman passed by the exiting Troy. The woman was nice enough to smile at Troy as she passed, but Troy did not return the smile. Troy hardly ever smiled anymore, and when he did, it was a smile filled with sadness.

“Sparing that guy’s life was nice of you, but it really wasn’t that smart. The Boss wants to see you, and he seemed pretty pissed. We call these battles a death match for a reason you know.” Muttered one of the guards as Troy walked into one of the backrooms. Troy nodded in response and began to head towards the room that the guard pointed towards. It was true that the guard probably should have taken Troy there just in case, but the young guard’s attention was now fully fixed upon the two women ripping each other’s clothes off.

It wasn’t like Troy had anywhere else to go anyway.

[Unfulfilled]

A root is defined as the source of nutrients and energy, sapping from another source the raw materials to survive. Most roots are commonly found in plants, sapping up precious water to feed the stalk and spread out to the leaves and branches. A root can also be found in evil, and that root is commonly referred to as money. A certain affiliation with the original sin of avarice to drive deep rooted men to grow, sapping up more money to increase their already overly large accounts. Money is the root of all evil, and money is the reason why Regal sat before the leader of the arena.

A pudgy man flexed his fingers, each small sausage sized tendon cracking as air was released between the joints. Following up the hand was a dark pinstriped suit that moved vertically down the jacket and matching pants. An obvious custom made outfit for the man looked to be very overweight. His stomach almost seemed to roll over onto the table that held some papers and a plate of steak that was half eaten, half mangled by carnivorous tendencies. He picked up a pen and placed it gently on the table above what looked to be Regal’s contract.

“Do you see this?” he asked in a very low tone, signifying his irritation at something Regal had apparently done wrong.

“It’s a piece of paper, telling me I’m about to receive money for defeating that three minute fool you call a champion.” Regal replied. A loud creaking noise of groaning metal echoed in the dimly room. Two guards entered with another man whose face changed the entire tense atmosphere to a hollow empty sadness. What a killjoy… Regal thought as the man stood next to Regal, not even acknowledging the sword demon. Regal saw in his piercing blue eyes a horror that he could not define; suffice to say that whatever bothered this man was slowly eating him alive. Yup… Regal thought confidently. A killjoy.

“I will get to you in a minute you pacifist rat.” The fat man said interrupting Regal’s thoughts. “Regal, this contract was signed by you with the condition that you would not only last three minutes, but also kill our champion.”

“But I won,” Regal said confused. Not scarred confused, but irritated confused. He hated being explained things as if he were a child. Yet for some reason he couldn’t explain it was the only way he could understand. “I defeated your champion.” He said champion in a very snobbish way.

“Regal…to understand this business you need to be cut throat and bloody.” Regal rolled his eyes. And apparently eat seven hundred pounds of food a day. God you could be the pork night champion with out a doubt. “You see, I made bets with my audience members in the entire sky seating reserved for the one’s with money. And they all said you couldn’t defeat him within three minutes. So I placed a lot of money on you Regal…50,000 gold pieces that you could last three minutes and defeat your foe.”

“Which I did!” Regal shouted now overly angry. He was having his time wasted, and now he was getting pissed.

“No Regal,” The fat don said quietly as if he was stressed for finding the right words to say. “You defeated him in less than three minutes. I’ll allow your feeble brain to let that sink in. Trevor, get me the file on that Rebecca girl, she might make a nice mid way attraction, probably finish off the one eyed moron in our ranks that this bum couldn’t do.” He pointed to the depressed knight.

Regal shook with rage as his hand settled upon Tenacity. “What do you want?” The don ignored Regal’s irritancy, which made Regal that much closer to snapping.

“Well, with ten people betting on that, giving me three to one odds, I could have made quite a bit of money. But one guy said you could defeat him in less than three minutes.”

“So you want me to kill him?” Regal said interrupting the leader of the fight arena. “Done. Do not waste my time you overstuffed pig.”

“The money I already made back, but now you need to learn about interest… I could have tripled what I paid for you, and multiplied it by ten! Do you know how much money I could have made Regal?” Regal shrugged. “I doubt your brain could count past ten, but I would have made 1,500,000 dollars REGAL!” Regal yawned. “So tell you what…I think I will torture you 1,500,000 different ways, and then kill you as interest…” The don turned his attention to the knight. “As for you, I plan to put you in the main event tonight in a two on one! I plan to regain a lot of money that bozo lost.”

“No.” was the only reply that came out of the man’s mouth. With it seemed to be a pollen of unseen nature that turned the hostile atmosphere into a depressed, sad overture. WHAT IS WITH THIS GUY? Regal wondered. Not only did he pass up the opportunity to shed carnage, but he also gives me the chills! Weeeiiiirrrrddddooooo Regal whistled lowly to himself.

“I’m sorry?” The don said in mock amusement. “Did you say no?” The man nodded. “I don’t think you realize you have no choice in the matter!” he slammed his pudgy hand on the table, making his for drop to the ground.

“Simply put,” The voice said tiredly. “I have lost all taste for fighting in such a place.”

“Than I guess I will have to kill you along with him. I shall show people what disobedient dogs get when they cross me and my money! Guards!”

Regal looked at the guards that were closing in. Each one carried a small short sword no longer than the length of his elbow to his arm. They all wore shields around their right hands and had a look upon their face as if this was just for pay, not for their lives. Regal would have to change those looks. His demonic grin surfaced from the deepest recesses of his black heart as the thrill of battle began to overwhelm him. He chuckled to himself before he spoke,

“Just one flaw with that torture plan,” Regal said confidently in a low, dead tone state causing the fat man to look in curiosity at Regal. “The human body can only withstand 305 different ways of torture, and most can’t last past ten.”

“Kill them!” The fat don screamed in furious rage.

[Disillusioned]

For a majority of the conversation, Troy had simply stood next to the wall, ignoring the lecture before him. He cared not why the white-haired man and the arena master argued, for Troy simply desired to leave this place. It was only when the name Rebecca was mentioned that Troy actually began to listen, for that name held a special meaning to the former knight. My sister’s name was Rebecca. But it’s not like it’s an unpopular name. After all, why would my sister be hanging around in a place like this?

The thought soon exited Troy’s mind, as well as the numerous insults the arena master flung at Troy. The only thing that did matter to Troy was the fat man’s attempt to enlist Troy in yet another match, but that was something that Troy would have nothing to do with. He had lost all taste for fighting in such a place, for the only feeling he had left was an unsettled stomachache, probably due to the fact that Troy’s sword had just blinded some poor man. The arena master most certainly did not approve of Troy’s refusal.

As soon as the fat don bellowed the order to his guards, Troy’s uncaring attitude changed back into survival mode. It appeared that even though Troy had no interest in continuing to fight, he would have no choice in the matter. At least this time around he would have an ally, even if it were a temporary one. Although Troy had to admit that the white-haired man was probably a slightly crazed psychopath. Well, while I wouldn’t want such a man to marry a family member, at least they don’t make bad allies in a fight. Might as well get started.

Troy immediately dashed several steps towards his right; drawing one of the guards away from the white-haired man while the other guard ignored Troy and continued to advance towards Troy’s current “partner.” The guard facing Troy immediately leapt forward, swinging his sword as he did so. The blow was aimed at Troy’s midsection, and Priam knew that he had to act fast. Troy partly unsheathed his sword, managing to barely block the blow in time. A small spark escaped from the blade and landed on Troy, as Troy’s hand left the hilt of his blade and flew towards the exposed head of his foe. The punch was more than enough to cause the guard to stumble backwards, and give Troy time to unsheathe his blade.

“Don’t get overconfident because you beat some old man! He was way past his prime!” The guard shouted as he swung at Troy’s head. Troy quickly ducked low and dashed away, causing his foe’s blade to sail past and scrape against the stonewall. Hundreds of sparks shot through the air as the steel sword scrapped against the rock, while Troy quickly seized the advantage and swung at the exposed man. Priam cursed silently as his sword only connected with the man’s wooden shield, and Troy had no choice but to leap back to avoid a small kick by his foe.

“I was overconfident once, and look what it did to me. Trust me, I’ll never be overconfident again.” Troy muttered as the warriors’ two blades clashed in the air. Sparks danced to life as Troy’s ice blue eyes seemed to burn into the man before him. There was just something about having the look of failure and death in your eyes that made people instinctively shy away from you. Of course, had Troy a choice in the matter, he would never ever chosen to have such a look in his now permanently cold eyes.

Seizing the momentum before his foe had a chance to react, Troy immediately rolled to his left side, causing the man to over swing an oncoming attack. Troy had already learned that the man’s small shield did quite a good job of defending the man’s upper body, so the solution was obvious. If the upper portion of a man could not be attack, then an attacker must aim lower. Disillusioned quickly ripped apart the backside of the man’s left leg, and blood stained the ground as tendons were cut apart. The man shrieked in agony as he fell to the ground, completely unable to stand. Desperate for one last attack, the man rolled to his left and stabbed wildly, but Troy easily parried the attack. The man’s screams of agony ceased once Troy’s blade pierced into the man’s skull, forever silencing all sounds the man would ever make.

For several moments Troy did nothing. He simply stood there as his foe fell to the ground, another victim of Disillusioned. The sword had claimed several lives under the guidance of Troy, and often it did cause the current wielder to wonder just how badly each life taken was damaging his soul. But it really didn’t matter; for Troy was already certain that his soul was already damaged beyond repair. There were far too many lives on his conscious already to worry about what a few more would do.

Troy’s inner turmoil vanished momentarily as the door to the room slammed open. Expecting to see more guards, Troy’s quickly raised his still bloody sword and glared at the entering man. Trevor, who had been sent by the arena master to find several papers, returned to the room with a what-the-hell-is-this look upon his face. One man lay dead at Troy’s feet, while the white-haired warrior was viciously attacking another. It did not take Trevor long at all to drop the paper he carried and bolt out the door. Out of curiosity, Troy picked up the paper and briefly wondered who this Rebecca was. After he finished reading, Troy’s eyes flared to life with an emotion he rarely felt anymore. Pure and uncontained anger.

Instantly Troy turned about and flung his sword at the arena master who was trying to edge his way toward the exit. The fat man stopped instantly as the sword pierced into a picture in front of him, sending a loud echo throughout the room. The don, who at this point was become more scared by the second, quickly doubled back, only to feel Troy’s firm grip around his throat.

“Rebecca Priam. Tell me everything you know about her now, or I swear your death will be more painful than you can possibly imagine. I will invent new senses for you so that you can feel new forms of pain.” Troy seethed as he slammed the man against the wall. Rage was something that had long ago left Troy Priam, but when it came back, it came back in full force. After all, there isn’t a brother in the world that enjoys seeing a beloved sister hanging around in fight arenas. Especially as one as seedy as the one Troy was currently in.

“I don’t know! She came, she fought, she obviously won, and then she left! You’ve got the paper, not me!” Screamed the don as Troy began to choke him. Yet Troy quickly frowned as he realized the man was right, for in his rage Troy did forget the paper had most of the info on it. Priam quickly dropped the fat man, who began to gasp for breath, and he once more picked up the paper. Problem was, it told him nothing he didn’t already now. Except that Rebecca was apparently hanging around in fight clubs, which was something Troy did not like at all.

“Where’d she go?” Troy muttered as the tip of his blade gently pressed against the crawling don’s neck. Small drops of blood began to run down the blade as Troy pushed it closer and closer to the man’s exposed neck. It did not take long at all for the man to break, and immediately tell Troy whatever information he knew.

“Well…there talk of a big sword tournament down at a place called Black Isle. She is a swordsman, er, woman. Quite a few of our fighters headed down there to compete. If she’s not here, I’d imagine she went with them. Okay?” The man pleaded. Troy thought for a moment, and then decided that killing a person on his knees was not something he was willing to do. Troy’s conscious was already far past wrecked; there was no need to destroy it further.

“Count your blessings. You’ll not die today. At least not by my blade.” Troy muttered as he sheathed his sword and began to head towards the door. As he left, he noticed a small pouch of gold and snatched it as he left. Troy had no intention of keeping the money for himself, but Troy did know that someone was currently missing an eye because of him. Giving Brendan a few pieces of gold was the least that Troy could do, and it wasn’t as if the don could object. And after that…

Well, there was only one thing Troy really could do. Somewhere out in this large world was his beloved sister, and for some reason Troy would probably never be able to comprehend she was out risking her life. In truth, Troy did not think he could really face her. Actually, Troy believed he didn’t really have a right to face her. But nevertheless, a sword had but one purpose, and Troy wanted Rebecca as far away from that purpose as possible.

I never knew why you decided to take up the sword sis. But I do such places like the one I’m standing in are no place for someone like you. These places are for madmen and scum, and although I may fall into one or both of those categories, you certainly do not. I’ll find you, I owe you that much.

[Unfulfilled]

There is a certain thrill that invades the body when battle approaches. A certain fear or blood craze. It enhances the senses and increases awareness but at a devastatingly drastic price. In the heat of battle ones mind is lost. Things they normally wouldn’t do are released in an act of aggression, whether it is defense or assault. Many acts of violence are committed and souls pray for their gods to forgive them. Regal prayed those gods would shut up watch him.

To Regal, conflict was a master of his. Teaching him the art of self seducing killing. He got a certain joy not natural from battle. The blood shed, the flesh cut apart and the natural screams of agony that followed each swing he took. It was a bloody chorus in an evil symphony of greatness and Regal was the conductor. His baton was his sword, and this overture was called Tenacity.

The solitary guard looked at Regal with over confident eyes. His pay check was his confidence that he would win any battle he fought. Little did the guard know he wasn’t alone in this fight. He had allies it seemed. Hundreds of these unknown soldiers were forming up on his rear, eager to join the fray. The guard just looked at Regal’s eyes, which slowly got bigger with each word he spoke.

“I see twelve…no twenty…no thirty five!” Battle had shrouded Regal’s mind many times in the past. “My unknown ally!” Regal shouted to the depressed knight. “I’ll take these fifty, no sixty, no seventy! You take that one!” His generosity in battle knew no bounds. The guard’s eyes had seemed to waiver as his confidence was now shaken.

“What the hell you talking about you freak?” the guard blurted out.

“Your demise!” Regal said with bated breath as Tenacity was drawn swiftly. The guard had lifted his shield arm quickly which was just about enough time to block the blow, but his shield was lost in the process. The guard slipped backwards as Regal’s feet gently strode him forward. The guard was now panicked as he stopped his beat and stabbed forward. Regal parried the blow to the side causing the weapon to fall out of the shaking guard’s hands as Regal skipped to his left, landing next to the man’s right ear. “A demon stalks his pray…I wonder if the pray will scream for me?” Regal’s voice was low, sinister, and demonic.

“Please, I have a wife and kid…” He pleaded. Now his eyes showed no more confidence. His eyes had shown only fear and they darted around looking for anything to save himself from this monster.

“So did the countless thousands I have killed. But their screams sounded the same. I wonder what yours would sound like.” Regal toyed with his pray. He shifted behind him holding the blade against his neck as he breathed heavily along the man’s neck. The guard had no options as tears fell from his eyes. He had one desperate chance, and he lifted his back leg up bending it at the knee. The result was instantaneous, and to his shock, beneficial. Regal had slumped the ground, holding his groin in pain.

“Get away from me you freak!” He shouted as he ran to retrieve his weapon. Regal was very bitter now. Oh damn, he thought miserably. Gotta learn to stop the monologues…but they’re so much fun… Regal slowly got up with aid from his weapon. His depressed companion had already finished his fight. His foe had already reclaimed his weapon.

“Freak is a term reserved for the homicidal psychotics who deserve to be locked up. I am just a demon.” The guard held his blade low as Regal slowly moved forward. The guard swung with a wild Horizontal and Regal ducked, rolling forward and holding his blade out as he finished on his knees. Tenacity had struck gold as the reward was red crimson upon her steel flesh. Regal smiled as the guard’s weapon dropped and the body looked down upon Regal.

“You spent too much energy on your fear…I’d work on that.” Regal said getting up to look at his kill in the eyes. He mouthed out something un-audible and died. Regal kicked the man violently off his blade into the side of the desk of the fat don. The man squealed like a pig knowing it was going to the slaughter house.

“Well Well…”

“You friend! He said I could live!” He already started to plead for his life. It was sick and beautiful all at the same time. Before Regal could object to the friend’s comment the man spoke for him.

“I said I would not kill you, I never said anything about him.” And the knight left.

“WAIT JUST A DAMN MINUTE!” Regal screamed to the warrior. “There has got to be some un-written book of the road that says you can’t leave a poor fat, overweight, fat, greased up, fat, no good, sonovabitch to live when you got a damn sure chance to kill him! Hold on I think I got the book in my bag!” But the knight was almost gone. “WHAT THE HELL MAN?” Regal was beside himself. “If you won’t kill him I will then!” The don’s eyes lighted up.

“Regal…what If I paid you?” the don blurted. “Anything, name a price!” Regal smiled.

“$1,500,000.” Regal said slyly.

“It’s yours!” the don said reaching for his sack of gold he kept under his desk.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Regal said his tone darkening. “I want $1,500,000 in blood…”The don’s eyes began to grow wide as Regal shut the door. The groaning metallic noise filled the air as the screams will quickly silenced by the shut door.

[Disillusioned]

Troy quickly walked down the empty hallway as he slammed the iron door behind him. Troy knew very well that whoever had fought beside him in that last battle wouldn’t spare the Arena Master, but that really wasn’t Troy’s problem. After all, Troy didn’t exactly think that a man who profited off the deaths of others deserved a lot of mercy when his time came. That being said, there was one small matter left to attend to in this place, and then Troy could be on his way.

Brendan’s wife nearly jumped out of her skin when the door leading to the couple’s tiny room slammed open. Brendan didn’t move much at all, for most of his attention was focused on holding a blood soaked rag up against his wrecked face. It took only a moment for the wife to react, and she did so by leaping up and talking in a harsh voice.

“Can we help you?” The woman snapped at Troy, who simply stood quietly by the door. By this time Brendan had noticed just who was exactly standing at the door and he gently placed his free hand on his wife’s shoulder, calming her down somewhat. Still, the wife’s red face made it clear that she had no love for Troy. He couldn’t say that he really blamed her.

“Peace darling. After all, he was supposed to kill me. I guess simply losing an eye is a small price to pay to keep your life. The Don must have been pissed at you though. I’m surprised you’re still alive.” Brendan said as his wife sat back down, clutching to her husband’s arm as she did so. Troy smiled a sad smile before responding to Brendan.

“We did have an argument over it, but the matter’s settled now. You’re going to have to find work elsewhere though.” Troy said as he glanced over his shoulder. Well, no guards were screaming at the top of their lungs and charging down the hall, which meant that Troy’s “partner” had obviously dealt with the man or perhaps was in the process of doing so. Still, it was best not to hang around. Troy doubted that these guards were the type that would set out to avenge their former employer, but there was no sense in hanging around in an obviously hazardous environment.

“Is that because of my eye, or something else?” Brendan asked, picking up on Troy’s glance over his shoulder. When someone glances over their shoulder, it usually meant that they were looking for someone, or perhaps looking to stay out of someone’s way. There was a more than slight possibility that Troy was doing the latter. In response, Priam simply smiled one last sad smile before tossing Brendan’s wife the bag filled with gold.

“You need a new job, let’s just leave it at that. That’s the least I can do. Maybe you can find a skilled healer somewhere if you’re lucky. If not, that ought to be enough to keep you going for quite sometime. Not that it makes up for what I took, but I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. You see, I’m far more skilled at wrecking things than making them better.” Troy muttered as he quickly turned around and headed for the exit. He had no intention of sticking around in this place longer than necessary, and with his debt paid Troy was ready to leave this place. All that was left was to find a quick way to Black Isle, time was after all, something Troy had very little of at the moment.

“Hey! Hold up there! This is a lot of cash! Can’t we do something for you?” Brendan said as his wife gasped as she opened the bag. There was actually quite a small fortune in the bag, enough at least to live frugally off of for a couple of months. Troy looked back on last time at the two, and simply shook his head.

“Not unless you know a quick way to get to Black Isle.” Troy muttered as he opened the door. Now, chances were good that he could get a boat to the place, but knowing his luck Rebecca would be long gone before Troy managed to set foot on the island. What Troy needed was a fast way to cross miles upon miles of ocean, and Priam was coming up empty on ideas.

“Why the hell would you want to go there?” The wife asked quickly, snapping her head away from the glittering gold coins that lay in her lap. The tone in her voice made it seem that going to Black Isle was a very, very bad idea. This was enough to stop Troy from leaving, at least for the moment. He slowly turned around to look at the couple once more.

“Someone special to me is there. I need to be there. Fast. Is there something bad going on there?” Troy asked with a slightly worried look on his face. After all, life had decided to throw Troy curve ball after curve ball, so what was one more strikeout in the ballgame of Troy Priam’s life?

“Do you consider hundreds of dragons something bad?” Brendan asked, finally managing to stun the usually emotionless Troy. The former knight blinked once in complete and utter shock, hoping that the sentence he just heard was a joke. The look on Brendan’s scarred face told Troy that it was not.

“I call that a very bad thing. Why, pray tell, would there be hundreds of dragons on Black Isle? I heard there was suppose to a sword tournament there…” Troy said in a very weak voice. Brendan nodded in response, for there was indeed a tournament being held there. Of course, by this point in time, most of the participants were likely dead. No one really knew for sure, seeing as how no person had dared to venture towards Black Isle after the attack had begun.

“You’ve got that right. It’s almost like someone planned the attack to cause the most damage to those poor souls trapped there. Last I heard, the dragons were still burning the place to the ground and the slaughter is still in progress. Still want to go there?” Brendan said as Troy’s face turned pale. Troy’s mind simply could not comprehend why such a thing would happen, but that really did not matter. All that did matter was that Rebecca was on that island. That was the only thing that mattered.

“Of course I still want to go. If someone you loved was in danger, wouldn’t you rush to their side, no matter the consequences?” Troy said as he turned towards the door. Brendan looked towards his wife who stood silently beside him. The answer to Troy’s question was obvious. Of course Brendan would.

“Hold up there pal. There just might be a way.”

*~*~*~*~

A large cave stood before Troy. It was as if Priam was staring into the big, gaping mouth of death. According to Brendan there was still one way to reach Black Isle. A cursed way, filled with a horror from a time long past gone. Supposedly a portal used by a people long forgotten resided somewhere in this cave, and that portal would take Troy instantly to Black Isle. Of course, there was a bit of a catch. Hell, there was always a catch.

“I don’t care. Bring on the dragons. Bring on the curse that lives within the dark halls in front of me. I will see my sister again once more before I die. After all, I still have my sword. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

[Unfulfilled]

Regal’s gaze fell upon the hallway as he walked away from the room that attempted to confide him. He was more or less pissed at the fact he had just been given a great opportunity to punish and torture a fat defenseless man, but instead the don of the arena had lost all his will to live and died from a heart attack. Regal had only managed to get two fingers cut off before it was over. Bummer.

So now Regal was stuck walking down the halls with little to do. He had no place to wander, and no place to go. He simply was just stuck. This had happened to him multiple times, yet each time didn’t really make him feel much better. Instead he just hoped for the best and walked. This plan usually resulted in Regal getting into trouble with the law, and the cycle of viciousness rotated onwards in a merry fashion.

“Well…I could always go and kill that depressed looking guy.” Regal mumbled to himself. “He does have a lot to answer for. Just leaving him all alone…god what a loser.” A sound of coins being clashed together perked Regal’s curiosity. He rotated his head to the sound and saw a older man with a very noticeable cut on his eye, and a small framed, middle aged woman standing next to him, both counting up money.

“We should save it and get ourselves a small farm land,” the man said. “With what we have left over we can start to live the life I promised you!”

“Oh darling,” she said full of love. “It’s too good to be true. If that decent man hadn’t been so kind…who knew what would happen to us!” Regal turned away disgusted. He hated the sound of a modern day person being all chivalric and kind lending a helping hand and probably letting fat…people...live. This could be worth my time… Regal thought sinisterly as he moved to the two lovebirds.

“You, you saw the depressed Knight guy walking in which direction!” the response was not what Regal expected. The two of them looked at each other, and the man placed his hand upon his sword.

“I think it’s best you leave him alone.” The older man said. “He doesn’t need your trouble.” Regal’s heart began to beat at the threat.

“Do you really want to mess with me?” Regal said in a low breath. “I defeated the champion of this god forsaken place. I did it swiftly and without hesitation. Something your eyes seem to show me you did, I’m sorry…your eye seems to show me.” The man got up but his wife quickly grabbed his arm.

“He went to Black Isle!” she shouted. “Now leave us alone.” Regal kept his grin wide as his eyes remained focused upon the elder male. After what seemed like an eternity Regal slowly backed off.

“Be lucky, you old fool.” Regal taunted. “The Sword Demon has no need to sharpen his blade on a dull useless tool such as yourself.” The man made a move but was restrained by his wife, causing Regal to laugh maniacally. His laughter echoed with him as he left the arena into the outside world. He only needed to find the depressed knight and find him soon. As luck would have it, he saw his prey not more than a few hundred yards away from him. While true he was no more than a spec in front of a cave, Regal knew it was him.

A dark cloud hovered over this man and that was all Regal needed to know he had found Troy Priam, the Disillusioned Knight. But what the Sword Demon didn’t know was at the moment he took his first step towards Troy, he had sealed his fate and embarked on a journey he would never had dreamt of in a million years.

And those dreams would soon be nightmares…

[Disillusioned]

The first step was always the hardest step to take. Every step that came after was no more than repeating the process, but that first step was what started the process. It was with that first step that the journey begun, and as such, most men would hesitate before taking that step. Even Troy knew not where this road would take him. What would he say to his sister? What would she say to him? Only questions filled the lonely man’s head, and he could not find a single answer to comfort that loneliness. But it didn’t matter. Nothing really did anymore.

“Hey! Wait up!” Screamed out a voice from behind just as Troy was about to take that momentous first step. Troy paused momentarily and turned about to see his former ally slightly jogging towards the mouth of the cave where Troy stood. Puzzled, Troy coolly turned about and waited, wondering exactly what this fellow had in mind.

“You know, it’s not nice to walk out on people! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” The man sneered at Troy, who merely shrugged in response. For a moment the two warriors said nothing, but Regal finally broke the silence.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you pal! You don’t just leave a fat bastard alive! What the hell man? Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to kill that fat loser? Well…not much really…but that’s not the point!” Shouted Regal at Troy, who said nothing. It didn’t take long at all for the Sword Demon to realize that the man before him was obviously not much of a talker.

“My apologies. You didn’t have to kill him if you didn’t want to though. You were under no obligation.” Muttered Troy as he turned his attention back towards the cave. He was wasting time here, and sadly time was a quantity he had little of at the moment. Every second he wasted was another second Rebecca may die.

“Hey jerk! I told you, you cannot leave a poor, defenseless, fat, greedy, fat, stupid bastard like that don alive! You just don’t do it! Now I’m here to earn a little compensation for my hard work, and I don’t mean money.” Regal laughed as he yanked out Tenacity and twirled it about. Troy’s hand firmly gripped Disillusioned, but as Regal’s eyes began to grow wider, Troy let the blade go and turned back towards the cave.

“Sorry. I don’t have time. Perhaps some other day.” Troy muttered as he took his first step into the cave. The air around Priam quickly changed into a musty smell, and the sunlight quickly vanished and was soon replaced with darkness. The whole world seemed to die as Troy made his way through the cave’s entrance, everything except Regal’s voice.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE TIME?” Shouted Regal at the top of his lungs. Soon enough, Regal quickly dashed into the cave after Troy, eager to chase down the lonely knight. Yet Troy stopped moving, and once more turned to face Regal, who quickly came to a stop.

“I mean that I cannot fight you now. If it’s a fight you want, I promise you’ll have it someday. But not today.” Troy muttered. Regal quickly struck the side of the cave with his blade, causing a number of sparks to quickly flash into existence. Neither Troy nor Regal were phased by the event, and the two merely kept each other locked in their respective gazes.

Damn it! I can’t just cut him down if he won’t fight! I want a battle, not an execution! I want the thrill of cutting down a strong opponent, not some worthless dog! Regal thought to himself. It took several minutes of silence, but Regal eventually lowered his blade, and Troy let his hand that had been growing ever closer to the hilt of his sword rest.

“Fine. We’ll play it your way, you sad excuse for a man. I’ll cut you down later. Now tell me what your name is, and what’s the plan?” Said Regal as he re-sheathed his sword. Troy coolly raised his eyebrows and turned back towards the direction he was heading. Just up ahead there seemed to be a bit of an opening, and that seemed like a good of starting place as any.

“My name’s Troy Priam, but what’s this about a plan? You’re not seriously considering coming with me?” Troy asked as he began to walk away. He would be surprised when Regal quickly caught up to him and began to follow him through the darkness.

“Of course I am. You’re my prey Troy Priam, no one else’s. I’ll not have some moron steal my kill. The name’s Regal Burnswidth by the way. They call me the Sword Demon, perhaps you’ve heard of me?” Regal muttered as the two reached the darkest part of the cave. It took a few minutes to get their bearings, but a light source seemed just up ahead.

“Afraid not, but I’m not the type of person who pays much attention to the world. Not any more at least.” Troy muttered as the two stepped into a large area. Regal was slightly puzzled about the story behind that statement, but the Sword Demon was far more interested in the current surroundings.

It was a large empty room, the walls of the cave were barren and cold, without the slightest hint of any life what so ever. An eerie green light somehow lit the entire area, but neither man knew just exactly where that light came from. But perhaps the light was not the most important aspect of the room. The floor was far more interesting.

Hundreds of bones lay scattered about the floor, while dozens of rusty weapons lay mixed within the bones. It was as if a huge battle had been fought at this exact spot, and all who had fought had died, left forever unburied within these walls. Not a single sound could be heard in the entire room, save for the quiet breathing of the only two people still alive. That would soon change though.

A sudden burst of green light washed over the entire field, bathing the skeletons in a sea of green. Both men quickly took a single step back, even though nothing happened for a minute or so. But soon enough, multiple creaking noises could be heard as the dead bodies began to piece themselves together and pick up their fallen weapons.

“Well there’s a sight you don’t see everyday. The dead returning to life. Let me guess, cursed cave?” Muttered Regal as his hand flew towards his sword. Troy nodded in agreement as his own hand found the hilt of Disillusioned.

“Sorry, I should have told you. My luck is very, very bad.” Said Troy as the undead beings began to encircle the two warriors, who soon found their backs pressed against one another.

“That information may have been somewhat useful. Christ, these guys won’t even bleed when I cut them. What a killjoy.”

[Unfulfilled]

Flesh was a wonderful thing. It covers the bones, nerves, blood cells and veins that run through our body. It keeps out harmful bacteria and grows little hairs to keep us warm. It is a very useful substance that grows with us and stretches to fit our skeletal needs. Yet as great a miracle as the human flesh is, it has a fatal flaw. It’s weaker than people believe, and simple cuts than destroy that barrier of protection. And the best part of all to Regal was it hurt when he cut flesh, and liquid would pop out like ants fleeing an ant hole that was rained out.

Undead flesh was a different matter. It was rough, dry, not so hairy (unless you counted the fungus like mold), and generally didn’t relinquish any form of liquid in any crimson color. Cutting undead flesh was like cutting cooked meat. Dull, pointless, and kind of chewy.

So to see in front of Regal’s eyes hundreds of undead warriors getting up he had only one thought run in his head. MAN this sucks. More or less Regal was less enthused that his foes would be undead minions. Not only that, but they seemed to be very lethargic and dumb. Swarming was the zombie’s battle plan. Always swarming with the numbers game is what Regal noticed when he was drastically out numbered. But then again, the Sword Demon had killed over a thousand men single handedly. So fifty undead monsters really wasn’t all that hard. No, it was more like sixty…seventy…a hundred.

“As unlucky as you create a situation your luck isn’t all for the worse,” Regal’s hands gripped his hilt tightly. “You are about to witness the fury of a Sword Demon!” and Regal charged outwards slashing horizontally from the left to right and swinging his blade back around for a diagonal feint. Two of the creatures fell to his blade quickly replaced by two more. Regal peddled back and thrusted forward on a moments notice pushing his body forward. He impaled one zombie and ran it into the wall knocking over several more. Ripping his blade out was quite simple as the torso fell apart from the legs easily. Regal felt a presence behind him and he whirled around extending his left hand back handing a ghoul in the face and knocking the head off.

“So…” Regal looked for the right word to say as his boot crushed the head into dust. “Fragile…” Regal sheathed tenacity. A low grumbling sound protruded from Regal’s mouth as his eyes slowly turned into a focused scowl. The battle was too easy. Regal stalked forward to the horde and punched another ghoul’s head off. He began to settle himself in one spot and allowed them to get close. If this wasn’t going to be a challenge, than he would make one.

The first zombie to touch him grabbed his right arm. He shifted his weight downward as he rolled forward sending the corpse flying out into a group of other undead monsters. The contact nearly created an explosion of some sort as the monsters body parts flew every which way. Regal wheel kicked back to a vertical base hitting the knee caps out from a few more monsters and he began to shuffle in place.

“Heh, this isn’t as bad as I thought…” Regal said in a sort of frenzy. He punched anything that got close and began to laugh manically. “HEY TROY, YOU REALLY GOTTA TRY THIS!” Regal did an over exaggerated axe kick smashing a ghoul to the ground. “Oh man this is great!” Regal did a very unorthodox jump kick smashing three more to the wall and sending their appendages flying. Regal felt a rush of adrenaline kick in and as he prepared to nip up into a group of oncoming hoarders he felt something grab his hand. Then something grabbed his leg. Then something grabbed his shirt and pulled on it. Regal was amazed at the strength of what was holding him down until he soon realized it wasn’t one singular thing but a large mass of entities. Every hand he dismembered was grabbing him and every zombie that could slither to him began to cover him. He started to flail his arms and legs but the panic allowed large gaps of opportunity for the body parts and ghouls to move in. Soon Regal felt the claustrophobia seep in as the dim green light in the room flashed again.

“Uh…Troy?” Regal said loudly. “A little HELP PLEASE!” Regal shouted as his eyes were covered by a foul smelling hand.

[Disillusioned]

Troy’s blade sung through the damp air, stopping for only a moment when it connected with the nearest skeletal being. Upon being hit with the sword, the frail skeleton shattered back into pieces instantly. Troy frowned momentarily, and quickly swung his blade to his side, into another nearby foe. Once more the foe quickly fell apart.

“I thought that couple said this curse was deadly, but I hardly see any reason to fear for my life.” Said Troy, confused by the ease at which the skeletons fell apart. One nearby skeleton raised its rusted sword above its head and came at Troy, but the move was easy to read. In an instant Troy had step-sided the attack and cut the skeleton down.

Regal, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life. Troy watched with some small admiration as the self-proclaimed Sword Demon easily moved about, shattering his foes with ease. The man even went so far as to sheathe his sword and go hand to hand with the beings (in a very literal sense). Troy had to admire his current companions bravery, even if Troy thought the man’s maneuver was a bit stupid.

Nevertheless, Troy knew he should be thankful. He had steeled himself for a ferocious battle, and instead it seemed that it wouldn’t be hard at all to get through this cave. Troy casually brought down another advancing skeleton as he glanced about the cave. In the back Troy’s ice-blue eyes spied an opening of some sort, and that seemed like the logical place to head.

Priam quickly picked up his walking speed as he began to head towards the opening. The undead before him offered little in the way of resistance, and it took Troy very little time to close the distance. Of course, there was the matter of Regal. Troy simply couldn’t leave the man alone here (even though Regal might have actually enjoyed such a prospect).

“Hey Regal, over here. There’s a passage back this…” Troy was cut off as he heard Regal’s cry for help. Turning back quickly, Priam noticed the man was being pulled down by a number of disembodied hands. Troy sighed as he looked back at the escape route, and then back towards his heavily outnumbered ally. Well, I guess I can’t just leave him there. He doesn’t even have his sword. Oh, yes he does…he just sheathed it…

Clutching Disillusioned tight, Priam ducked his head low and began to charge full speed through the undead before him. Troy whirled his blade about as he charged, quickly dismembering multiple limbs from the frail skeletons that barred his path. It took little time for Troy to meet up with Regal, at which point he stabbed Disillusioned into the ground in order to have free use of both his hands. Priam quickly began ripping off the multiple hands off Regal as the rest of the undead forces closed in around them.

“You know, there’s a lesson in this experience…” Muttered Troy as he managed to fling the last hand off Regal. Regal glared at Troy as the Sword Demon lashed out with one of his feet, smacking aside a skeleton next to Troy’s impaled sword. The skeleton evaporated into the circle that was quickly forming around the two men, causing both men to shake their heads.

“Hey! I was just leveling the playing field!” Shouted Regal as both men grasped their swords. The two warriors quickly whirled about, scattering a good number of the skeletons as their blades slashed through the air. Regal grinned as the circle around them began to fall apart. That grin was short lived however, when a loud clanking noise could be heard from the lines of the skeleton army.

Soon enough the noise became clear. Four skeleton soldiers materialized out of the shattered ranks of the undead army, and it was clear that these four were far different than the previous foes. Unlike the rest, the skeletons were covered in heavy steel armor from head to toe, and their war-scythes were anything but rested. The weapons in these skeletons’ hands seemed to be fresh from the blacksmith’s fire, and they glowed glow with a slight green aura, and as Troy admired the scythes the undead army quickly made way for what was obviously an elite group of soldiers.

“I think it’s time we left this place.” Muttered Troy as the two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to face down the four advancing foes. Troy could still see a clear path to the opening from before, and retreat was out of the option. Even if Troy had wanted to leave, the cave’s exit was now blocked off by a majority of the skeleton army. Now, those four are heavily armored, but they’re slow. I bet if we rush them we can… Troy’s thought process was soon interrupted by Regal’s outburst.

“What? You think the odds are that bad? I guess I could fight one-handed…”