The antagonist of this story was something I (legit) saw in a dream (or nightmare, if you prefer) once. This is a side sequel to "The Curse of the Demon Idol" but isn't meant to have a huge impact on "Lord Daquarius' Revenge," the direct sequel. I'm also a noob at writing horror, so please critique it.

A Living Nightmare

"I propose a toast to our victory over the forces of evil!" King Arthur exclaimed, raising his goblet cheerfully. It had been a while now since the chivalrous Knights of the Round Table, Ron and his friends defeated Alzorf, the Black Knights and Zamorak (while preventing another god war at the same time). A party was definitely in order, and everyone in Camelot Castle decided that it was a good idea to wear not armor during this celebration, but their ordinary wardrobes instead. They did not, however, realize what else was coming after the festivities, except one person…

Several hours later

By nightfall, it was safe to say that the heroes had—shall we say—partied a little too much. For example:

"Heeey…Tylerrr…care for some more of the good stuff?" Pete hiccuped, offering him more wine. Tyler held out his goblet.

"Don't mind if I do!" he replied thickly, his voice booming with alcohol. But before Pete could pour him another serving, he fell face-first onto the Round Table and began to snore loudly. Seconds later Pete did the same. Ron shook his head at them and sighed.

"Haven't they ever heard of the saying 'drink responsibly?' Apparently not," he answered himself, observing their heavy slumber. "Right, Jenney?" His face changed from disappointment to horror when he turned to her. "Oh no…"

"Oh, Ronnn, your hair is sooo green…like a leaf!" Jenney swooned, scooting closer and stroking his forest green locks. Her face was very close to his, and her cheeks were all red. She soon fell asleep, too, laying her head on Ron's lap. He just breathed another sigh.

Why me? I seem to be the only one who isn't intoxicated, he thought. Panning his eyes around the room, his suspicion was correct: all the knights, Arthur, and his friends were in an alcohol-induced coma. Of all people, even Merlin was in one, his magician's hat askew. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the room for a split second, followed by thunder and heavy rain. Ron gently removed Jenney's head from his lap, got up, and walked to the front window. Huh? When did this thunderstorm start? During another short bout of lightning, he saw something—a figure in a hooded black robe was staring at him from the other side of the entrance gates. Its face was shrouded in darkness. "Who the hell is that guy?" he cursed loudly, not even stirring the sleeping people behind him. He might be a robber or assassin, so I should stop him before he breaks into the castle! Ron snatched up his sheathed dragon scimitar that was leaning against the table, threw on his green hooded rain cloak and ran out into the courtyard. The rain was coming down in buckets, but he could still see the perpetrator well enough. Upon spotting him, the figure dashed into the woods across the road in Seer's Village.

"You're not getting away!" Ron shouted angrily over the very noisy raindrops. He charged through the gates and gave chase. Another crash of lightning and rumble of thunder echoed throughout the night. He could hear the sounds of rain hitting leaves and rushed feet on wet grass as he briskly moved through the trees. After several minutes of running, something bizarre happened. It appeared that the foliage was forming a dense forest.

"Wait a minute…" Ron paused both verbally and bodily, scrutinizing the environment. "The vegetation in this area isn't normally this thick. Something's wrong here," he said in an undertone. Then suddenly, a laugh was heard coming from what seemed like every direction.

"Heh, heh, heh…" the voice laughed slowly and evilly. "How right you are, Ron Destiny…" The rain then stopped. The forest developed a gloomy aura. It was as if the air was standing still and becoming colder. A creeping mist rose slowly from the ground, reaching Ron's knees.

"Who are you? How do you know my name? It's cowardly to hide, so show yourself!" he called shakily into the late night atmosphere, raising his weapon before himself but not drawing it yet. The malevolent laugh resonated through the trees. "If you are in a rush to die, then I'd be happy to oblige you." A single figure in black robes emerged from the penetrating darkness. It was holding a strange sword in its right chalk-white hand. Upon closer inspection, it looked specifically like a longsword, but this one had a dark violet hilt and a pitch-black blade. It was thinner than the typical sword and had an aura that could intimidate even the most skilled warrior. Ron had never seen anything like it before. He suddenly felt his legs wobble, but he stood his ground the best he could. He drew his sword and grasped it with two hands, the weapon shaking in his hands. Why am I so afraid of this guy?

"Heh…do you really believe you can defeat me with that pathetic thing you call a sword? Feast your eyes on a real blade and perish!" The cloaked…whatever it was…came at Ron with blinding speed and agility. Before he could respond, it was already behind him. What the…? "Ahhh!" Ron screamed, a spurt of scarlet spewing from his right arm. He knelt down, tightly clutching the gash and clenching his teeth in agony. The blood was oozing between his fingers and now streaming down his forearm. The frightening being breathed heavily as blood dripped off the tip of its blade.

"This is no ordinary sword, human. It's called the Nightmare Blade, and it was forged from the hate and sins of human beings just like you," the strange being breathed eerily, placing a brief pause between each of the last three words and pointing at Ron with a long, white finger. The swordsman shivered. Maybe it was because of the cold, the uncanny appearance of this…thing, too much blood loss, or all three. Ron was right-handed, so he could no longer manage to hold his weapon and dropped it. He stood up languidly, still nursing his arm, and faced the creature.

"Who or what are you? How do you know my name?" Ron answered weakly. The deep cut on his arm was draining his strength and consciousness. The robed menace cackled and spread out its arms.

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet? I am your worst nightmare in physical form. I have no definitive name and was created out of the fear and despair in people's hearts. I know you because I am part of your own fear and despair!" The robed figure raised its voice during the last sentence, sending a cold wave through the stagnant air. By this time the adventurer's vision was getting blurry; he was so weak that he could barely stand up anymore.

"I've told you enough. It's time to put you out of your misery, pathetic mortal!" The living nightmare sensed his fragility. It pointed the Nightmare Blade at him, grasped it with both hands, and drove it through his abdomen. As more blood gushed out of him and stained the white shirt under his green one, Ron fell flat on his back.

Is this the end for me? Is it my time to go? Guthix save me! Everything went black.

Ron awoke to find himself in an empty abyss. He was somehow in suspended animation, although he didn't know how he got that way. Am I in purgatory or somewhere else? Suddenly he heard a benevolent voice. He felt at ease just by listening to it.

Ron Destiny…it is not yet your time. Your destiny is to live on and have several more adventures and encounters before you pass on to the next world.

"Who are you?" Ron asked in awe. His question echoed through the empty space.

That is not important. What is important is facing your fear and achieving victory! I will revive and send you back to Gielinor. You can do it! There was a surge of bright light.

Ron woke up—again—to realize that his wound had magically healed, and he had his strength back. Looking in front of him, his scimitar was still there. He quickly grabbed it and stood up. All his fear was gone, too. The nightmare turned around and saw his victim was all well and good.

"How are you still alive? I killed you! No matter…I'll just do it again!" it shrieked, ran at him with the Nightmare Blade raised.

"I'd like to see you try!" Ron retaliated smugly, swinging his sword at his enemy. "I'm not scared of you anymore!" Their weapons collided simultaneously. The nightmare viciously swung his blade and sliced into the skin on Ron's left arm.

"Heh, no sweat," he said in response to the bleeding flesh wound, reestablishing his fighter stance. He rushed at his foe and successfully slashed its torso. A black gash formed on it, but nothing came out. The nightmare lowered its sword and stabbed the blade into the ground.

"Congratulations, Ron Destiny. You have proven yourself a valiant warrior."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Ron asked, totally lost.

"This was a test to make sure you are indeed a courageous fighter. A true warrior is one who can face and take down his greatest fear. I was meant to be a manifestation of yours."

"I see. Who put me up to this test?" He was too exhausted to argue.

"I'm afraid I cannot divulge that information—it is not my place."

"Well, what happens now?"

"I will take my leave and you can return from whence you came. Good luck with your future endeavors." The robed figure mysteriously disappeared with the wind, leaving its sword behind. The fog lifted and the sun rose, enveloping the landscape in orange light. The dense forest reverted back to woods, and the Nightmare Blade disintegrated when the sunlight touched it. The air became clean and warm again. Ron wheeled around in the direction of Camelot Castle. He stretched and yawned.

"Man, what a story that would make!" Ron said aloud. But I doubt anyone would believe me. I'm just going to go back and get some sleep—I was practically up all night. I also wonder if everyone has woken up and recovered from their hangovers yet. He laughed and sauntered back to the castle, ready to see his friends again.