...

Light fleeting, naive and obstinate it knows not of its truer nature. Before there was a thin veil over void darkness dwelled; ever present as it always will and always be, the light merrily chirps a soft tune, pray to me young and old- give oneself to me and save thee from the wrenching cold.

..

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Decrepit these walls are, hmhm aha, broken and rotting. Barren what was once full, looted and trashed... Almost like it was all an odd dream. Some type of fairy tale, no it wasn't merely illusion or some distant dream. Fuckards. Ceron pounded his fist against cracked brick. Not just time that laid waste to it all, bastards intruded, grasped all that was mine, all that I-.. Obtained and adorned, haven't they? Nearly chanting in angered curses, Ceron kicked skull and bones near his feet.

Ceron lightly held Elrax, peering towards the broken ceiling and scattered debris. Glimmers of light shone, revealing a slit of the day's sky, with no remorse those greedy lot tunneled their way in anywhere they could. My unhallowed grounds, defiled and trampled upon as if it was a mere dirt road; Though shocking? Ceron huffed, "Not in the least..." Walking down the halls of ruin, the air was almost nostalgic like- It's appearance contrary to what I had basked in days ago to my mind.

Consisting of three floors and seven chambers, the tomb was a stronghold and only a high class spell caster, or endless droves of brutes could have laid siege. Perhaps alluded by the constant sound of crushing bone under feet, glancing about one could spot toppled statues maybe concluded at first glance. Yet, they were quite more than idle marble to awe at each where at a time sentient, magical golems built for the utmost defense. Resembling that of towering, broad full-clad knights in heavy plate, a simple swing of their axe or sword would gouge a man in two.

That is to say they weren't impervious as obviously seen from the crumbling state, powerful rune scripture had to be carved like a heart throbbing a current of energy throughout each golems body. And if broken, caused a mess as regretfully displayed. Someone had found each weak spot, and concentrated fire, Ceron mulled sliding his hand across seared stone and marble. The first floor and two chambers was nothing more than, choke points zones where death could happen at its peak. More than just sentinels of stone, toxic gases and acid borrowed would have laid in every step, mechanical spring boards of spikes and a small burst of flammable oil to set the mood.

Massive gates and spike pits were a staple of defense and an exercise of shooting at ease, tree sized javelins were clearly lodged with their catch forever ensnared. The fools just charged at them, and still... Their idiocy had won them with the tide. But.. These skulls weren't human. Measuring up the odd skulls, orcs? The earlier of sets undoubtedly human, a controlled swarm of orcs to exhaust defenses?.. A sick but cunning move, given the same availability perhaps I would've done the same. Those beasts reproduce like rats, from two spawn eight within a moon's cycle. A dimwitted fodder, it makes the most sense. Gaudy shields, and iron barricades on wheels; as if those could stop any attack the size of a tree, or swords bigger than a man's torso.

They were most crunched up like paper, just the same to those who cowered behind them blessed in a short vain of ignorant bliss and security. The battle was intense, bodies strewn like sawdust, the walls and flooring torn beyond repair. It was a surprise the ceiling hadn't caved, or was it? Truly any normal construction would've long toppled by time alone, but this tomb of mine.. Perhaps the dwarves could hold a candle however slim it may be, my runic walls in a test toward dwarven alloy? I couldn't say. Though it's old news... That spire however, what secrets did that hold? Tensing at the unknown Ceron bit his lip, steering view at the fallen skeletons of orc, and man-

And those of gaudy stone golems, pieces of demonic ash. The fight had inevitably happened, it was brutal and all while.. "I was sealed.." Was it regret, pity? Or even a tinge of sorrow and guilt?... My devout and loyal caste, till the end in my name, had they known of my sealing. Had they known the hopelessness of their actions, or had they constantly prayed to deaf ears, unknown or even in the knowledge of my sealment? It was a worrisome thought, Ceron couldn't place exactly why; it disturbed him, it was a hollow gutted feeling seldom found. A pointless death was a wasted one.

The destruction and decay in like a march continued past the fallen gate wall and infested in each crevice reaching to the second and third floors. Which unwillingly caused cashes of goods, libraries and workshops picked clean- In similar that of, vultures any and all that wasn't nailed down or hidden had been plucked. Even armor and weapons of the scattered deceased. Not an inch of value was left, walking through the numerous hollow rooms Ceron's lone steps kept a reverberating, lonesome echo. Passing by the withered arboretum and hall of Elrax, the second floor and its lining chambers held no tale. Long choked out by filled pockets of others.

Beckoning further, the darkness enveloped the next unhallowed' grounds descending down a staircase and past another crumbled fortification of pikes. The tomb wasn't by name alone, a workshop of blood and flesh settled amuck the dizzying third layer of catacombs aside it's three main chambers of ritual. The made of these tombs wasn't an easy feat, an exorbitant amount of labor and magical expertise was put into every detail. Taking a decade for just three, regardless of specificity and uniqueness of each, all had a floor of ritual and devotion for summoning and runic smiting. After-all, my undead armies reigned tall, Ceron groaned... "And they still would be."

If I hadn't sent my aids to dispose of the lurking filth... Sarieths head would've left his neck a little forcefully. A troubling fact, but success often is brewed from failure, my mistake will guide me. I can never be too prepared for any occasion, if I want a man dead his life should already be forfeit. So they've picked it all clean, haven't they?... In a hopeful stride Ceron carried down the decrepit steps, unto a circular room pooled with stains of red and bone ash- Many stashes, all so far have been torn and taken. Will a glimmer of my past life still persist? A fragment of Elrax had, this chamber had. Fate be damned, not all of me is destined for ruin.

Quickening to the side chamber, past the dangling of numerous debris, and sagging rows of shelving with books akin to charcoal, the spare few not charred black haphazardly thrown about. It was a stuffy room, an ample storage space for texts and scrolls. At the far end, a turned handle and hole few feet wide. Straightening his back Ceron walked forward, emitting a ferocious desire almost palpable; with a curling grin and inquisitive eyes, the hole laid barren clear skid marks and scratches as if something heavy had been yanked out. Giving credence to the dent at feetside, it had to be. None had claimed it, with that thought alone Ceron bit his thumb and draped droplets of blood over the holes center.

Dripping moments by, the blood began to twist and almost as if birthing some sentient creature moved on its own. Forming a circle the crimson plight seeped into the stone. Causing any to unknowingly assume it working of magic, Ceron couldn't help but smile. The stone was carved with a slant and tiny fractures unseen by the naked eye- Fully immersed, a metallic clank sounded rising Ceron from idle fascination. The back-wall slowly shifted, causing the hole to tremble as centuries old stone collided. Flaking off in a few bits, the wall dropped down revealing a hidden crawlspace.

Happily taken by this, Ceron drove headfirst crawling through the grime into a circular hovel. Where it was barely tall enough to stand made droves length wise' it was a dark room gushing with webs and crawling forms scurrying at the mere sight of light. And while a joyous expression kept its persistence, it was merely an impulsive illusion. In scowl and surprise an annoyance took it's pleasure. Demanding attention a glaring draft and hole had usurped from the wall side. Though more woe-some, trinkets and baubles and all that adorned lining this room of reprise was but a distant memory. In a rush Ceron looked past the room and onto the hole's shadowy abyss.

Man made? Or something else.. Ceron painfully thought, gazing towards haggard scratch marks lining the cracked bricks. Hmph.. Leaning down in intrigue, the flooring was odd or to be precise the layer of muck and dust that permeated the rest. It was lighter, a cleaner shade among the dense clot of impurity...Was it new? Paying its due, a feeling of shock subsided, "Even the hidden not overturned..." Clenching hands Ceron dismissed the idle whispers of wind, looking for any worth not yet ceased. This secret wasn't merely made to hide some zealot painting, or vestigial means of entertainment.

Looking now, it was awfully apparent... More legacies of my work now reside outside these walls. Rubbing his neck Ceron had counted on trove of power runes and, sealed mana of ferocious beasts. Still in the narrowing demise, slits of hope surface. Sat at the opposite end entangled in cobweb and encroaching grime, that of marble and stone. Not all not all.. Smirking at the sight, a slim statue, or resting as in the least. Resembling of a crowned archer. Had whoever trespassed my domain, leave unwittingly at the dull and uninteresting reward? Brushing off the dirt, the physical features were more demonic than man. Slit eyes like a viper, tempered looking stone half in appearance of scales and smooth skin. Or more striking of dangling snake figures from waist side- It was a beautiful statue.

Though reveling, it was in a sorrowed joy. Having its stance, and unmoving way it had long since lost power. Addressing his new body, Ceron chuckled softly perhaps it being just an idol piece and not a cutthroat killer was a good thing, would it even recognize its master? It would be an invaluable tool to use. Giving a deep thought look, Ceron inspected the figure in scrutinise detail. No glaring mark or scuff, all limbs functional. The black, depleted rune scripture that dotted the statue in every crevice hadn't a scratch either. The webbing was a blessing in disguise, all it needs is a source of transference.

Gauging the mediocre runes inside the satchel, they were but naught. Only those of high quality or some willing soul to imbue the statue with would do.. Both which were in short supply... Should I sacrifice a pawn this early, a valuable relic untapped within breaths away? Coming at an impasse, slight rhythmic knocking intruded from the crawlspace. It was Beth with a large bag in tow, nodding in entrance she quickly kneeled. "Master Ceron pardon my intrusion." With a firm unwavering tone, and admiring gaze Beth gave a slight smile-"Oh..?!" Caught off guard, now here? Dazzled in surprise Beth met Ceron's intense expression. It was a bubbling feeling, a desire and emotion swelled in her chest. She dropped the bag.

...

Like a deer in moonlight Beth sat agape, in awe, before hurriedly looking around. We're alone aren't we??! Yes! Face turning flush, Beth's grin twisted akin to a mugger down an isolated alley. Now's the time, hahhah... He wants it now, well well of-course he does! Have you seen me? Ha! No one can deny my feminine charms, not a single man or woman. "Master..." Approaching, now are we master Ceron, ugh, that gaze it's like a void sucking me in... Salivating in various places.. Beth waited in anticipation.

In brief steps Ceron stood over her, a pawn for a king. A fated purpose, how should I do it? Resting his hand on Beth's shoulder-OhOh.. So frontal!- Pushing her aside in a hefty manner, Ceron opened the laid bag at her feet. Perplexed, Beth sweatdropped. What? Stuck in thought she sat there dazed. "A dagger is missing." Rising from her shock Beth nodded. "Yes. Master Ceron, the shop owner had miscounted a blade, a-apparently it went astray-.. Someone took it overnight."...A thief? Mphm..

Looking over the refurbished blades and set of mail, they were a step up from the previous date. Baring now at least a glimmer of shine, the longer swords bore some slight crackage and daggers a tad dull. The mail was still by far the best of quality and had additional leather sewn onto it, making a comfortable looking padding. Passing those thoughts, Ceron took a dagger reacquiring his tense expression. Measuring what laid before him, like sizing up ones prey Ceron held the dagger reflecting Beth's image on its blade.

How useful, the measure of worth in this one? Striking blond, a slim body and a settled foot in this "new" World... The consequence of ending her life, wasted potential..? Ceron pursed his lips, a hasty decision could often lead to a staggering fall and it holding true, her body specifically isn't needed for the reanimation of this statue. Not knowing the extent her power.. Parting her hair, Beth gave a wry smile still underspell of a intruding gaze.

"What of me.. Do you need master?" Ceron stood towering over like a deity, and to her he was.

Hmm. What do I need.. Thinking deeply Ceron twirled the dagger, held it by its tip. Drowning out the outside, what do I truly need? Strength and knowledge, the world might aswell be alien, time has made much of what known a mystery. If nothing else, Beth can be used as a temporary shield and some source of connection to this twisting place... Ceron glanced towards the statue, "Either Way, I need to repower it." Confused, Beth drew an odd look, repower it..?

Exhaling, Ceron extended his hand offering the small dagger to Beth. "So, where is this academy entrance you had spoken about?"