Volume 1 - Beggar Knight
The Awakening Beast
Duncan led the way as the trio entered through the door. The passage was pitch black, save for the torch lighting their way. They crept slowly along the sandstone, none of them saying a word for fear of beckoning something from the darkness. The air was cold and stale, it caught in their throats like dust. Their careful steps were well advised as they felt the ground beneath them begin to gradually turn and lower, turning in a spiral downwards for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally relief, Omar felt a brazier on the wall brush his shoulder as they moved, Duncan quickly lit this, illuminating the space around them. He turned to Omar, handing him the torch silently before tearing a sizeable part of the sleeve from his robe, bunching it up and lighting it on fire before dropping it down the centre of the spiral. It fell for an anxious eternity before finally hitting the ground. Mehdi peered over, making sure to not stand too close to the edge. The walkway went down for 6 or 7 rotations. Mehdi had lived in these sands all his life, seen Petra, Jerash, the lot. But he had never seen anything like this. Who had made this? Who had lived so deep beneath the surface to craft such passages?
The three finally reached the bottom of the room. They hadn't said a word since the stone door had opened. Nothing had felt right since they entered this room. It was like they were being watched, no it was like some malovolent force knew they had crossed into its domain, like it had been expecting them.
Another passage lay open at the end of the room, a long, sloping passage that carved from ancient stone, its walls lined with large, weathered bricks. The corridor was dimly lit by flickering torches mounted at regular intervals along the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced across the uneven surfaces. Omar tried to mask the feeling of worry that threatened to overwhelm him as he spoke up.
"The torches" He spoke pointing down the hallway. "They're lit this time, who has been down here?"
Duncan paused, his eyes narrowing at Omar's words. The flickering flames down the passageway were impossible to ignore. Freshly lit torches deep beneath the desert sands, where no man should have walked for centuries meant only one thing, they were not alone.
"Stay close." Duncan muttered, his voice low, wary. His grip tightened on his mace, the cold metal grounding him in the surreal moment. He could still feel the residual pain in his chest, but now it was coupled with an instinctual dread. The air here felt wrong, heavier than before, as if thick with something ancient and malicious. Something was drawing him deeper.
Mehdi’s eyes darted nervously between the torches and the passage ahead. "If someone, or something lit those, then they know we’re coming," he whispered, gripping his rifle tighter.
"Then there's no point sneaking around anymore" Duncan said, forcing himself to move forward. The pain in his chest flared again as they made their way down the hallway, sharper this time, but he pressed on. The corridor seemed to stretch forever, but as they ventured deeper, they began to hear a faint hum, low and rhythmic, like a heartbeat reverberating through the walls. It was almost imperceptible at first, but with each step, it grew stronger. Duncan’s heart ached in sync with the sound, pulling him forward despite every sense telling him to turn and run. None of the three mentioned the noise to each other, and the only words spoken in this corridor were by Omar, his grip tight on his blade, muttering something under his breath in Arabic; a prayer, or perhaps a curse.
Finally, the corridor widened into a vast circular chamber. The ceiling was impossibly high, vanishing into the blackness above them, and the floor was covered in strange, glowing, intricate carvings that seemed to form a large, spiraling pattern. At the center of the chamber, bathed in a faint, eerie glow, stood an altar. Resting on it was a set of armour, unlike anything Duncan had ever seen. This what was drawing him beneath the sands, what had called him here.
Mehdi and Omar cautiously followed Duncan into the room, their eyes scanning the area for any danger, both with their hands ready on their weapons, every fibre of their being was calling out in danger within this room. Their eyes traced the carvings and patterns decorating every inch of every surface in the room. Duncan, however could not take his eyes off of the armour. It was like he was hypnotised. No explanation was forthcoming but it felt like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, the first familiar face since waking up in his tomb.
The armour resting on the stone altar radiated a dark, ancient energy, and the closer Duncan got to it the more intense the feeling of pain in his chest grew. Its surface was sleek yet jagged, the blackened metal etched with intricate designs that flowed like the muscles of a lithe predator. The plates curved and contoured to mimic the body of a fierce creature, its power coiled beneath, ready to spring into lethal action.
The helmet was angular and fierce, its design exuding a silent, menacing power. The faceplate extended into a tapering snout-like shape, its sleek, jagged lines hinting at the primal savagery of a beast without fully committing to its image. Its narrow eye slits glinted faintly in the dim light and subtle ridges ran across the crest. The whole helm carried an air of viciousness, a visage that invoked the image of a wolf. Around the collar, thick tufts of dark gray fur spilled outward, completing the sense that this armour was more than just metal, it was the embodiment of something wild and dangerous, waiting to be unleashed.
The pauldrons flared out to the sides, their shape recalling powerful shoulders built for quick, precise movement. They curved down like haunches poised to spring, the plates layered in a way that allowed for swift action while still providing formidable protection. The chest piece was ridged and contoured, crafted with overlapping segments that mimicked the sinew of a predator’s body.
The gauntlets extended into sharpened, claw like points at the fingertips, and the legs of the armour were similarly crafted for both speed and power with similar overlapping segments to the chestpiece.
Draped over one shoulder was a tattered red cape, once vibrant but now dulled and torn as though it had been through countless battles. The crimson fabric clung to its side, torn in long, ragged strips, flowing down just before half of the length of the armour.
Mehdi and Omar noticed Duncan approaching it. The two looking at each other before quickly moving over to Duncan and placing a hand on his shoulder. Omar spoke first.
"Duncan, brother that...thing. It doesn't feel right let's ready ourselves before getting any closer." Mehdi nodded.
"Yes, for all we know it's what's been causing the Ghul to rise, it could be dangerous."
Duncan broke from his hypnosis only partially, stopping in his tracks but his gaze could not break free from the armour.
"It's alive."
"What?"
"The armour. It's alive. It's what's been calling me down here."
Before Mehdi could react, the ground beneath them trembled. From the walls, stone began to crack and fall away, revealing movement beneath. Slowly, two grotesque figures broke from underneath the carved stone. They were massive creatures, hunched and twisted, their flesh grey and mottled, with glowing eyes. Their bodies were wrapped in chains, ancient shackles that clanked ominously as they clambered up. The three knew what this place was meant to keep out. The Elder Ghul, what those things on the surface would grow into if they didn't stop them. The source of this invasion.
The three readied their weapons as the hulking monstrosities grew to their full height. Even hunched over they towered like goliaths over the three men, heaving and breathing heavily as black drool dripped from their gnarled fangs. The creatures lunged forward, snarling, their chains whipping through the air as they bore down on the trio.
The three moved quickly, dodging and rolling out of the path of the two as they readied a counter attack. Mehdi fired his rifle, the bullets hitting their targets but barely slowing the creatures down. Omar swung his blade, catching one of the monsters in its calf, but it barely flinched, instead bringing its massive chained fists down toward him. Duncan lunged at the other and swung his mace overhead at it, colliding with its shin. It quickly swung its head around to him, and swiped at him with its long pale arm. Duncan couldn't react in time, and was sent flying across the room, colliding with the altar holding up the armour.
He clutched his leg as he pushed himself up with gritted teeth. He tried to stand and fell back again, his leg was fractured, if not broken. He looked up at his allies, Omar was doing his best to hold up the fist of the giant beast, but his strength was faltering, he would be crushed soon. Mehdi was struggling to reload through constant dodges of the other behemoth's attacks, he was panting heavily and tripping more and more as he made sloppy ducks and rolls.
Duncan's resolve was wavering. Did he spend that eternity in the darkness just to return to it after such a short time awake? Just to watch his friends die again? He couldn't let it end here, not in this tomb buried thousands of miles away from his homeland. He knew what he had to do, using his hand to force himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as his bad leg tried to give way.
Using his hands, he steadied himself against the alter and turned himself around to face it. With one last look over his shoulder at the desperate situation behind him he made his decision. He was going to give the armour what it wanted.
Duncan’s vision blurred as he reached the armour. His heart felt like it would explode, but he couldn't fight the urge any longer. He reached out, his hands trembling, and grasped the helm. To his shock the armour grabbed back, turning into an almost quicksilver like substance and melting its way up his arms and around his body. He felt it tighten around him as though the metal itself had a life of its own. The cold steel pressed into his skin before warming, fusing with his very flesh. The pain in his chest flared, but now it was as though the power within the armour was awakening in response, amplifying his strength. His heartbeat pounded in rhythm with something deep and primal, an ancient force that thrummed through the metal, waiting to be unleashed. In the dim light of the chamber, Duncan stood transformed, a dark figure, his silhouette sharp and predatory, no longer the prey of these foul beasts.
A moment lasted eternity as he felt his spirit lift from inside the armour, to heights he had never seen and to a time that felt even further back than the one he came from. In an instant his mind was transported to another place, while his body remained in the tomb.
It was a place of eternal blackness, darker than dark. For a moment a sense of fear shook him, had he banished himself to another lifetime of darkness? Would this be one he'd never escape? And then the small twinkling lights of distant stars began popping into his view, before they were almost blinding.
His spirit hovered in the void for what seemed like an eternity. The stars around him pulsed like dying embers, but as his gaze lingered, they grew brighter. The shimmering glow began to coalesce, forming jagged, fracturing shapes. He saw it then, the Ebony Blade, or what was left of it, floating before him in fragments, its pieces scattered like shattered glass across the infinite sky. Each fragment pulsed with a heartbeat that resonated within Duncan’s own chest. His heartbeat thudded, sending a wave of pain through his body, as the realization struck him. One of the shards, the largest and most jagged, was missing from the blade. He felt something in his chest, burning like a sun and pulsing in time with the shards in front of him. Then he realised, the last piece was lodged deep inside his heart. The moment he had woken in his tomb, that shard had been there, embedded in his flesh, its cursed power intertwined with his own life force. That was why the pain had worsened the closer he came to the armour. The blade and the armour shared the same ancient power, both forged from the same malevolent starstone, both part of the same dark curse.
The realization hit Duncan like a hammer. Every ridge, every etched line in the dark metal armour he had adopted pulsed with the same ancient energy that had once flowed through the Ebony Blade. In his mind's eye, Duncan could see flashes of what the armour could do, movements too fast for the human eye, blows strong enough to shatter stone, and a ferocity that rivaled even the most savage of predators. But the cost of such power was steep. Just as the blade had thirsted for blood and battle, the armour demanded a toll. He could feel it now, pulling at his mind, dulling his senses, its hunger an unyielding force that could devour him if he let it. The more he wielded the armour's strength, the more it would take his body, his mind, his soul, until there was nothing left but the beast within. He could not defeat the curse last time, he would make sure he would learn to control it now.
His chest throbbed as he reached out to the floating shards of the blade in the void, and they vanished, reabsorbed into the armour. The stars winked out, one by one, until only darkness remained. The void receded, and Duncan’s spirit crashed back into his body with the force of a tidal wave.
The tomb came back into focus, but everything was sharper now, the darkness less oppressive. He could see the faint shimmer of the chains on the ghuls as they moved, smell the acrid stench of their rot as they clawed toward Mehdi and Omar. He could hear their labored breaths, every strained movement, as if time itself had slowed. Duncan’s vision pulsed red, his heartbeat now in perfect sync with the armour's thrumming power.
With a roar that reverberated through the chamber, Duncan surged forward. Each step felt light yet powerful, as if the armour was pushing Duncan forward, almost urging him into a hunt. His mace felt weightless in his hands now, swinging with the force of a mountain behind it. He slammed the weapon into the first ghul’s chained arm, the sound of cracking bone and metal filling the chamber as the creature staggered backward and let out a guttural yell. Duncan didn’t hesitate, he lunged forward, driving his armoured fist into the creature’s chest, the claws at the tips of his gauntlet ripping through its flesh with a sickening tear. Blood sprayed across the chamber floor as the monster howled in agony.
The second ghul barely had time to react before Duncan was upon it. He ducked under its sweeping chains, moving with a speed that left it flailing in confusion. With one swift, fluid motion, he leapt forward, grabbing the chains with his hands and yanking them downards. The beast fell to the ground with a crash and Duncan sped forward just as fast, wrapping the chains around the goliath's throat and snapping it's neck with a torque of his grip.
Breathing heavily, Duncan straightened, the armour's power coursing through him like fire in his veins. He could feel its hunger, its insatiable thirst for more violence, more bloodshed. The beasts lay broken at his feet, but deep within the armour, something still stirred. Something that wanted to keep fighting, to keep killing, until there was nothing left to stand against it.
Omar and Mehdi stared in stunned silence, their weapons still raised, but it was clear they were no longer necessary. Duncan turned to face them, his chest heaving, his heart still pounding in time with the armour's dark rhythm. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, a mixture of awe and fear, but he couldn't focus on that. Not now.
"The camp. There's no time to spare, without the Elder Ghul their numbers will dwindle. Let's end this."
Crimson Flame,
TokyoPewPew,
Sky Blue,
Choking on Mud,
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CitrusArms,
Lemons,
Tlaloc,
Hannah,
Expendable
