Dimrat returned whence to the tomb within him, the chamber of the many, whose sullen gaze judged without mercy. It was a poison pot of dark intentions, laid bare and exposed by the crossing of minds, perhaps of souls, for this place all seemed as one, and one as all.

They watched him. Yet he heard no mockery, no scorn. Were they silent? Could he not hear them? ...or did they hide.

He could have been dreaming, if not for the biting cold. There was a cobblestone floor submerged under still waters, perhaps a hand deep, that reflected the appearance of a broken man-at-arms, surrounded by a monstrous entourage of crestfallen knights. They remained as cold and still as the pool, almost looking straight through him. His eyes were pulled to their coats of arms, their crests, their bannered shields, their insignias. There was a blue-eyed white skull, entwined with a black snake, wreathed in the coils of its scaley hide. Symbolizing an alliance between the Skull of Hade, and House Vespyr. The elaborately adorned sovereign Bloodrose representing Lord Alucas Roseblood and the House of the Night. A holy cross, upside down. Something compelled him to kneel, but he did not.

Nothing but names. Mere words and images that shaped from the fog in his mind. They began to twist, to stir into a single image, that of a pale, narrow, slit-eyed mask with a smile that could only comfort a monster. The face had two clawed hands scooping it, each with 7 fingers, and each finger adorned a large unique ring of varying houses. Dimrat fell to his knees in reverence, instinctively scooping the mask from the pool, his heart ablaze through the confusion, but try as he did, he could not pick it up. The more he tried, the more the mask’s smile turned to sadness, and the more desperate he became. The mask’s face turned sour. The visage faded into the depths, and no sooner did the mask and the entourage leave his sight, they fled his memories, and were gone forever.

He felt a great abandonment. This was his fault, but he knew not why. Or how. Or who. Or when. He wanted so badly to remember the scenes that just transpired, but the more he strained, the muddier they became. The cobblestone waters faded to black, and alone in the darkness he wandered. Time held no sway here. Perhaps moments, perhaps years.

Dimrat’s mind raced. Fallen. Fallen. Fallen. The word slotted into his head like a puzzle shape banged against the wrong hole. It stung with familiarity, with emotions of betrayal, of urgency, of loss, yet the word meant nothing. Not a single trace of it remained in his memory, and this should not be. Something was wrong. He could not recollect his Dark Lady’s name, and strained further, nor could he see her face, or hear her voice. Was this his punishment? Had time eroded his mind? Or was there something he missed?

--

After an unknown time, Dimrat roused into consciousness. The cobblestone floor remained, but he found himself slumped against a large stone pillar, that towered into the darkness above.

‘Hands?’ he said, squinting through the visor of a helmet at a pair of bladed chainmail gauntlets. He clutched his helmet and levered it away, then it hit the floor and caught his breath with a clang that reverberated infinitely. He exhaled. It was a horned helmet of black, with a monstrous fanged mask painted white that covered the face. His eyes fell wild upon it. It invoked his rage like nothing else. He backhanded it across the floor, unsure of why he felt such a great unease, such resentment, such fear. He crumpled into himself, his hands draped over his face, and despaired.

‘ I am Dimrat. ..I am Dimrat. I am Dimrat…’

‘Faction? Yes, my faction...’

‘...where am I?’

He had limbs, and a body that he could barely move. He soon discovered why. He wore a heavyset, burnished suit of chainmail and plates, dressed with a tattered tabard that mired an indecipherable house crest. His legs were wrapped by a black marching banner still attached to its flagpole. He freed himself, took hold of the flagpole then pulled himself up on unsteady legs. The banner had no distinguishable, recognisable markings, only a white oval face that smiled.

It seemed the longer he lingered here, the more his perception of things changed. He did not know what troubled him more, losing his memories, or having them twisted into lies. A dim light, far and strange, caught his attention. He leaned against the marching banner with two hands, and used it as a crutch to walk, and with a weary stiffness, trudged towards the light. Then his foot clanked against his helmet. For a moment he halted and hesitated, before he took hold of it and kept it loose at his side. The distant echoes of a long lost hymn soothed him. It was familiar, though he supposed it would soon be forgotten too.

‘Dimrat… Faction…ah!’

Now he remembered.

“...system. What is my faction status?”

Dimrat (Perished Soul)

faction: [Fallen]

Relationship: [tentative]

‘Then truly I am Fallen…’

He jutted his chin and rubbed it, then said ‘I think...perhaps I have wronged someone?’

He was less conflicted over his allegiance now than before his death. That loyalty towards the Undead faction almost didn’t feel real, didn’t seem his… He passed more stone pillars, each different from the last. Perhaps manifestations of his memories. Fragments of his past. Places he’d been, trespassed, worshipped. The light grew closer, the hymn louder, the water he waded heavier and heavier, and yet unbeknownst to him it wasn’t there at all.

“...system. Who are the Fallen?”

Faction: The Fallen

Faction status: Broken

Faction members:

Record: 773,976

Remaining: 7

Faction territory owned:

Record: 97%

Current: -3%

Faction Citadel: --

Faction Monarchs:

Record: 166

Remaining: 0

Faction Champions:

Top 5 all time:

The Sleeper

Sorafune The Devourer [Monarch]

The Wingless One Aziaru [Monarch]

The Night Sovereign Alucas Roseblood [Monarch]

104th Legion Commander Grimrot

Current top 10:

The Sleeper

The Grand Organ

Vellom of the Swamp (pending)

Lost Shade of Windermere

Oldbone

Roseblood Brood

Dimrat

--

--

--

He hummed along without realising, the Hymn of the Dead, when the pop and crackle of embers silenced him. He had stumbled upon a kindled fire. Beside it sat a singed bundle of rags, with withered thin legs, and scorched black feet that nestled grim in the smoky ash. Stringed beads of coal glowed around its ankles, a glow that hummed and throbbed like a dull heartbeat eerily in tune with the fire’s embers.

A leathery hand that held a black lump of coal slipped through the hood. The hand reached into the fire and dropped the lump of coal, then picked up a hot one, before slowly bringing it back into its hidden folds.

‘Back so soon?’ came a voice.

‘..or is this your first time’

He pondered the question for a startled moment. Who could say. His bones wracked like icy chains that bound him. But that cold could well have been his age. Had he ever stepped foot out of this place? Or was this his first time here. ‘This place…’, he thought, when it spoke again.

‘Bones’

‘Pardon?’

‘Gotta warm em, lovey. Or you’ll forget yourself in a place like this’

The voice was old. A woman perhaps. Though he didn’t quite remember what one sounded like. Then he spoke.

‘Who are you?’

‘Who, not what? Blimey. You’re a touch familiar, aren’t you? ...are you Fallen?’

Dimrat sat down by the fire across from her. He dropped his helmet and marching banner to the floor, then stretched out his hands. The warmth soothed him so. It was the one mercy of the Fallen. A warm fire to take the edge off. The only pleasant feeling they endured willingly.

‘I…’

He wanted to say yes, but held his tongue. He did not know his place. Not anymore.

‘That’s ok, lovey. It’s tough on all of us’

‘I... seem to be lost. ..I think this place is treacherous. Whenever I feel I’ve made progress, something pulls me back to square one’

‘...are you sure of the order of things? Time is not so linear here’

Dimrat gazed through the fire into the emptiness of her cowl with a solemn vacancy. A curious ignoble decorum, perhaps the only remaining remnant of his pedigree. Like blood in water, visible one moment, gone the next.

‘Meaning?’

‘...don’t look behind you for memories. Piece them together as they come’

He sighed, his expression almost pleasant.

‘Precious sentiment. Thank you. But I’m afraid I’ll disappear soon…’

‘Oh, that’s a shame deary. Would you like some comforting?’

He thought for a while longer, then said ‘Only the fire can bring me comfort now’

‘That’s not so bad. ..the fire’s all we need, you know?’

‘Is that so. Though it seems rather dull’

The stranger chuckled.

‘Well It has been burning a very long time’

‘...Fire is the beginning. Fire begets purpose. We’re trialed by fire. And, aren’t you warmed by it? There can be no greater companion’

Dimrat’s mind cleared the more he bathed in the cinders warmth. The stranger began her hymn once again, and for a time lost he dozed and listened. Then a memory woke him.

‘...trial’

‘Oh?’

‘This word has meaning’

The many stewed at the edges of his mind. It seemed they had not followed him here. Their mockery, their cruelty had been replaced with an unease. Something kept them away. His eyes drifted about the shadows, when the old woman spoke.

‘...don’t mind them, lovey. They won’t come near, not while the fire’s warm. So long as someone still needs my fire It will never fade’

‘What are they?’

‘..what, not who?’

Dimrat stood.

‘Going so soon?’

‘I think there’s someone who needs me.’

‘Aw, that must be nice…’

He took a step away, paused, then said ‘you didn’t answer my question’

‘Oh? Ah. My name. I’ve been called all sorts, dear. Nobody ever remembers them. They’re all gone now. Though there’s still a curious one who calls me his dark lady’

‘dark lady…’ Dimrat pondered the name, but couldn’t place it. ‘...never heard of you’

‘...that’s alright, lovey. So long as you’re at peace’

Dimrat faced away from the fire, and took a step, when she spoke one last time.

‘...think of me by the fire one day, will you? It gets awful lonely here’

‘You have my gratitude, dark lady’

The dark lady’s hymn accompanied him in spirit. There was a loneliness to her voice now. The hymn fell more and more away with the passage of time. He never looked back.

‘Trial…’

[Trial transformation period expired. Expiration timer: -99, 99, 99]

[You’ve reached max lvl(5). Transformation available]

The message widened his eyes...