[i][/i][i][u][color=9e0b0f]Kritz[/color][/u][/i] [i] [color=9e0b0f]There's not much to be said about consciously floating in a vast sea of blackness. It's Boring. Although, there's a seemingly infinite amount of noise caused by just as many energies the world has to offer. Everything has it's own sound, you know. Over the millenniums, they become easier to identify. Water offers a constant, but peaceful burble, which I became quite accustomed to when this awful, pale wench tossed me into the depths of an ocean. I was trapped there for centuries, just thinking of how I would get my vengeance. I got the opportunity. I squandered it and she locked me in a box and buried me under the heftiest mountain she could find. Which is where I became familiar with the sound of stone. Nothing but a massive, pulsing mind-ache that was. I missed an entire millennia that time. Oh, don't worry, I got another opportunity. Still didn't go my way though. That bitch stuck me on a branch on the tallest tree in the middle of a forest. The wind sounded nice, faintly whooshing around from time to time. But the trees. Damned Gods, the trees were annoying. They were like millions of little children unable to get comfortable in one spot. Found a friend in one tree though. I visit him from time to time, because, well, that's what you do when you spend a few lonely centuries with someone. Time is treating him well. He would tell you otherwise, Old Grump Stump. I haven't had an opportunity for vengeance since then, and to be honest, that feeling has faded. I feel a kind of bond with that pale deceitful little thing. Our paths have crossed too many times for it to be coincidence. And now, in this particular plane of existence, I can hear her annoyingly piercing energy. She's close, and I think it's high time I came out of retirement. After all, I must thank her for introducing me to the greatest friend I ever had, Old Grump Stump. I've spent too much time in here talking to myself anyway. [/color][/i] Mountains towered into the dusky sky, casting a dark shadow across the surrounding lands and over a town just a few hundred yards away. Feint screams could still be heard in the distance, possibly the last of the survivors. Not far off from the edge of a valley where two of the mountains nearly met, a group of bandits searched for an escaped boy. They lost sight of him shortly after he made it out of the town, but they knew he headed in this direction. One of the bandits, an elderly man with long white hair stared blankly into the valley. The others glared in confusion at one another, waiting for the old man to snap out of it. Once he did, he noticed the looks. It was obvious to any outsider that this man was the one in charge. No one did anything without his word. The old man lifted his arm, encased in a full vambrace, and pointed toward the valley. He wasn't sure why he pointed, but it felt like something was directing him. He glanced down the length of his arm, darting his eyes from one symbol to the next. He could suddenly feel some kind of energy building up within the metal arm. He shoved all thoughts aside and followed the rest of his group into the valley. An hour passed and the sky was quickly growing darker. The moon, hidden behind the colossal mountains, failed to illuminate the narrowing valley. Few of the bandits expressed their concern among each other as the old man continued onward. "Sir!" a large, dark skinned man called out. "I don't think it's wise to go any further. The boy isn't that important." He paused for a moment. "He will die out here on his own." The elder man snapped out of a daze he didn't realize he had fallen into. "Hm? What boy?" he questioned while the others gaped at him. He quickly recovered and said, "Ah yes. The one who escaped." Looking once again at his metal arm, which he found weeks ago while looting an abandoned village, the old man noticed the energy from it was growing stronger. The large bandit came up from behind and observed, as did the others. "We move on," the leader commanded. There was a disappointed sigh from each of the bandits, but they all continued. The old man just walked and stared at the vambrace. Moments later, the group approached a small crevasse in the side of the mountain. At the end of the narrow path lied a double stone door, one side slightly open. The female bandit, tying back her scraggly red hair, blurted, "That must be where the boy went." The old man glanced at each member of his group, expecting them to answer a question he never asked. "Can you feel that?" "Sir?" one of them replied, confused. "Something ancient is in there," he said with a smile. "Something worth a fortune." "I think he's finally lost his marbles," the female bandit joked. The others followed her lead. Dark, cold, and pungent, the group traversed the mossy halls with great care until they came across a large room. Light seemed to come from nowhere, revealing the spoils that would make the bandits rich. All along the stone walls were inlet shelves nearly hidden by overgrowth. Within them rested numerous artifacts lost to time. The bandits spread out in excitement as the elder stood at the door way. He seemed to be lost within himself. No one noticed. [i][color=9e0b0f]She's here.[/color][/i] The old man looked around, frightened at the sudden voice. [i][color=9e0b0f]Oh, well this is awkward, huh? Don't freak out.[/color][/i] The old man looked around, searching for the source of the intruding voice. Once he looked back at his metal arm, he realized that the power from it had grown. He stared in disbelief. [i][color=9e0b0f]I know! I know! creepy, but listen. We don't have time. Once you leave here, your lackeys here are going to kill you. I can help you out here, but you gotta trust me.[/color][/i] He stepped back and observed his group, considering the possibility. [i][color=9e0b0f]That's right. Now, I bet you didn't know this fancy little arm has weapons inside of it. Pretty cool actually. I built it myself. All I need you to do, is twist the pinky slightly to the left, and voila, you get a sword.[/color][/i] Staring at the others while they looted the artifacts and scrolls, the old man began to feel more of the power radiating from the arm. It was calling to him and he felt his mind slipping. [i][color=9e0b0f]Do it![/color][/i] In the next moment, he took hold of the metal pinky and twisted it as instructed. A loud screech pierced the room and caught the attention of his crew. When they looked back, their leader was kneeling down and screaming in pain. Blood poured violently from the vambrace. The large bandit ran up to him, but stopped short when he noticed a sword protruding from the hand. "Sir!" the bandit yelped. "The name's Kritz," the old man said, a sinister smile plastered across his face.