The broken knife was getting closer to Robin. The knife seemed as though it was older than time itself, it was falling to pieces, and there was moss and rust covering more than half of it. The man who was swinging it seemed just as old, his rotting skin was falling off his bones, his eyes blacker than Grima's Abyss. Surely, there where no remnants of sanity left in this walking corpse. The knife was a foot away from Robin. Half a foot, two inches, one inch, it was right between his hazel eyes... JUMP! Robin heard a voice in his head. He heeded it's call and jumped backwards. The broken sword, though more of a sharp club now, missed him by centimeters. The dead-man-walking stumbled through in the swing, and nearly fell over. Using this to his advantage, Robin grabbed it's head and smashed it into the wall. It nearly crumbled over. He grabbed the broken blunt instrument and shoved it into his enemy's chest. It let out a dying wail and fell over, dead. Or so it would seem. Robin, now armed with a weapon, looked around. He was in a small room with shoddily constructed brick walls that he could probably break down. There was a single rusted door that was loose on it's hinges, and on the other side was hallway. He could hear a faint stomping in the distance. He swung with all his might and broke the lock on the door. He pushed it open, and it simply fell over and made a loud clanging noise. He stepped out. What he saw nearly made him jump out of his skin. A man stood there, simply watching him. He wore leather armor, and sword and shield in hand. His armor and sword seemed like he hadn't been rotting long, although his skin suggested otherwise. Robin quickly raised his sword. Damnit, this seems like a sturdier enemy. This will be a tough fight, but it's me we're talking about... now think... A voice interrupted his thought process. "You... you have your humanity?" The voice was so raspy and croaky, it sounded like it hadn't been used in hundreds of years. And even more surprising, it came from the supposed enemy. "Um..." Robin said, warily. "Where are we, exactly?" "You... you are not the one who... freed me?" "Um, no I don't think so. Sorry." "Oh, I see." Robin and the man stood, awkwardly. "What is your name?" Robin asked. "I... " He seemed to be in deep thought. "I can't... remember." "Oh! Then you must be just like me! One day I woke up in a field with no memories. I had amnesia, and I couldn't remember anything. That must be what happened to you, right?" "It's... not that. I've been here so long, that I can't... the memories are fading... I can't remember..." "I... oh." I'm sorry to hear that. You couldn't break out?" "There was no point, until now. I must find the man who freed me. Excuse me." The man began to walk past. "Wait!" Robin reached out to stop him. "It's safer to travel in numbers! There are many defensive and offensive-" The man turned and faced him. "I do not fear death. And I travel alone." He turned again. "Hold on, you don't fear death? Are you a god?" The man smirked. "No, I am no god. The gods have all left us. I, am simply a carrier of rebirth." Robin stood, bewildered. "What?" The man's expression soured. "Are you saying you don't know of the Curse?" "What curse?" "The Curse of the Undead. Us undead are branded with the Darksign. Those branded with the Darksign are fated to die a thousand times, and be reborn a thousand more. For, death is only a temporary setback. The Darksign feeds on souls. The undead slowly go insane as their bodies melt away. Once every shred of sanity is gone, you go hollow. Hollows and undead are rounded up here to the Undead Asylum to rot for eternity." Robin was astounded. "Wait, what? This is all so confusing..." The man sighed. "Perhaps... you should come along." He turned and began walking. "Hey, hold on!" Robin ran to catch up with him.
