They progress through the outer realms of the dungeon. Death taking the liberty of slashing foes and monsters they come across. Genevieve however, is forced to remain in the sidelines, hiding and running from the deathly creatures. She does find it a lot of fun to watch Death fight countless waves of monsters, he would be an amazing rugby player, Gen thought. Thinking of him in the little uniform, breaking his tiny opponents bodies to mangled pulp as he holds the ball under his arm. The thought of all the money she would win from all of the bets bring a smile pinning up her lips. Though, she still doesn't enjoy being a mere observer hiding in the darkness in all of this. The girl wants to take some sort of action, she hates feeling so useless, one of Death's favorite names to call her.

Death executes another undead prowler, easily chopping it in two halves. Souls emerge from the gashes, floating through the air, then pull to Death like a magnet. Genevieve shudders, hating to look upon their horrible faces, hearing their breathless cries. "What is the matter?" He moves to another prowler skeleton, destroying it to mere rubble. "I thought you would be used to the sight of another soul." She gazes at the glowing souls, swimming about the air like tadpoles in a tiny pond.

"I'm not." She mutters, watching him strike more of the creatures, the souls blossoming from the wreckage. "Is that what I'm supposed to look like?" She asks herself as her feelings of misplacement overwhelm her.

After taking care of a couple more undead champions, they scout the area for supplies. A large room for storage is filled with crates and old items to destroy. Genevieve outstretches a hand to open one of them, but Death puts out his hand over her's, shaking his head. "Well fine then." The small spirit gives a dirty look, just wanting to do something other than walk or watch him fight. "If you wanna be a gentleman, you open it for me."

Death walks past Genevieve to the crates, his stance hunched as he withdraws Harvester. He strikes the first box, smashing it to pieces with one hit.

"Ever thought of just opening them, Death?" She questions, examining one of the many breakable boxes.

"That doesn't appeal to be very much fun." The reaper answers, slashing another box, to his dismay, held nothing. Genevieve however, grunts as she pushes the heavy lid of her crate. The lid thudding as it hits the floor. She ganders inside, a giant grin stretches across her face.

"DEATH! Death! Look!" The Grim Reaper groans and glances to the apparent treasure she has uncovered. Inside rests a gleaming pile of gold pieces. Enough to sheet the entire depth of the crate. A strange, glowing green vial is slightly buried underneath the riches.

"Ah, good work, mortal," He pulls out the glass, shaking off the excess coins its covered in. "You found us a potion."

"Good work?" Her voice heightens with bright eyes arch. "I just made us filthy rich!" Death calls her an insult under his breath.

"Glit is much more common than it is in your realm. Not everything bright and glimmering retains value. Furthermore, since we're on the subject of glitzy things." He glares at Genevieve, holding the potion over to her. "It's about time you recovered yourself."

Entirely insulted by the remark, the woman huffs as he snatches the lime vial from his hand. "I'd have you know, Mr. Horseman." She says with a dirty smile, removing the skull capped potion with a pop. "I was real pricy in life. I don't think your ragged ass would have been able to afford this." She motions her free arm down her body.

"Name your price, Dead One." Death jeers, "I have more than enough glit to make the pile in that box resemble pocket change."

"Sure as shit don't look it." She says rolling her eyes and takes a swig. A shiver goes down her spine and her eyes clenching and tears run. What looked to have the flavor of an appletini tastes of swill thrown up twice, her stomach turning upside down under her pale skin. She exhales with a heavy shake in the back of her throat. Death couldn't help but chuckle, he takes joy in her suffering. But the girl doesn't bother to give a look. She is too busy feeling her pain go from numb and fade to an icy, pleasant cool as the swelling and cuts dissipate. A relaxing, near sultry sigh passes her lightly pursed lips. "I dunno, Death, I charge extra when it comes to spending the night with creeps."

"Who said I was purchasing you for your company in bed?"

"I sure didn't." The girl scoffs glancing at the fool's gold and away from Deaths stare, "But you sure as hell don't seem like the bloke that takes a girl out for dinner."

"I'm afraid I'm not." He grins unveiling his wounded hand, imprinting their conversation to his thoughts. The holes through his hand had closed quite fast considering all the meat that was baked off, but there is a crust of burnt skin and scabs that remain. Genevieve squirms just looking at it. The reaper takes the already open vial and pours the green substance unto the wound. It's as if time moves backwards on his palm, singes fade as the hole closes, the amulet's face print visible to where It began to burn into him.

"Uhh..." Genevieve's gapes, gobsmacked by the magic happening before her eyes, "I didn't have to drink that?"

"I did not say you had to." Death answers bluntly. The girl scratches the back of her head looking away from his gaze, feeling idiotic.

The hole finally closes, leaving not one scar. Death moves his fixed hand freely, stretching the muscles and shaking off the excess medicine. "Lets make our leave." Heavy steps move in front of her. Genevieve quickly dives into the box and plucks a couple of glit pieces, putting them in her pocket as she catches up with the Kinslayer. This fool's gold isn't of no use to her.

"Dead one, I almost forgot this." Scavenging Genevieve looks around to Death, despising the demeaning name when she had given him her actual one. Something heavy hits her chest before she could protest. Catching the heavy metal in her arms she wobbles with one leg in the air and the other barely grasping her balance. Catching herself, she holds up the sheet of chains.

"Chain mail?" the klutzy girl guesses. Death nods, "I found them while we were searching through those cases." He pulls out a pair of large knee-high boots with straps around the side and base of them along with a pair of old leather chaps.

"Put them on." The armor looks sturdy enough, they most definitely smelled enough. Genevieve shrugs, believing she probably smells just as horrible as her new wardrobe. She pulls the metal rings over her head. "I suggest you tuck in your hair." Death offers raising a hand towards her cheek, "We don't need something else 'toying' with your precious locks now would we?" He holds a clump of curls in his hand, combing lightly though his bony fingers. He was right. Genevieve does an excessive amount of hair. Its thick and bounces when she walks. Beginning straight at the scalp, then intertwines into loose beach curls at her shoulder blades. Finally ending smoothly above the dimples on her rear. It's a hazard that can get her into trouble in conflict. She shoves off Death's arm, whom was still touching her unfirm coils. He simply got lost, her hair is just so soft to him.

The hair twists thick around her palm and it is stuffed into the back of her sweater. She pulls the heavy chain mail over her head and pulls the hood out from underneath. She puts on the oversized tights and ties them taut on her waist. Finally, the size nineteen boots are slipped on and she buckles them snugly enough to get blood clots in her legs. Death steps back to look at her wardrobe. The ring vest weighs her down makes her slouch, the boots are more than double her size and her chaps look more of oversized leather pants.

"One more thing." He says putting his arms around her neck. Speckled cheeks flush pink from their faces being so close. The gray hood of her jacket pulls over her head, revealing the leopard print cat ears stitched into the top. Unamusement plasters his low eyes and tone. "In this mere few hours I've been around you," An awkward smile bares on Genevieve's speechless face. "I am already not surprised."

"Are we there yet?" Genevieve tiling her head back, overdrawing her groan. Death walking in front of her doesn't answer, feeling what he is about to show her may speak for him. "Hey." She fusses for his attention. "Hey Death. Hey. Not talkin' to myself." The reapers boots halt as Genevieve's follow. They are only feet before the next room that lacks a floor. It's very open compared to the previous rooms they fought through, but only a deep, foggy abyss was to be found. Foundation remnances and poles once holding eye catching structures in the room have long disappeared. Rotting underneath the smoke in the trench's bottom. "Yeah, big hole in the ground. What of it?" She asks roughly, shrouding her fear of falling in.

"We're going to get across." He turns his back to her, bending his legs low, assuming the position to give what is known in the Third Kingdom as a piggy-back ride. "And of course, I will be forced to carry you."

Genevieve's snickers with sarcasm blatant through her taunt. "Alright Death, as much as I'd love to see your nonexistent donk out at me, we gotta go find another way. Kay, lets go." She walks down the foyer the way they came. No footsteps follow her and she takes notice. Her head turning back to Death standing motionless with a stern look, as if expecting her to return without a call.

"There is no other way." He argues, following Genevieve's now giant boot tracks.

The awkwardly dressed woman scoffs at him, "Well you can count me the out, I don't need to die again, thanks."

"Such a stubborn girl."

"Hey-HEY WHAT ARE YOU-?" The soul's hand jolts forward and is thrown through the air. The center of her torso stings at the impact on Death's protruding spine drilling into the amulet on her chest. His strong stone like arms lock in her legs around his waist. Forcing her arms to lock about his neck so she doesn't fall backward.

She shouts her question,"WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?" Death begins trotting to the room keeping the bottomless pit, and his speed heightening at a gravely speed. "Death! Don't you dare! No! No! No! NONONONONOO!"

His feet leave the ground, striding through the air with arms letting go of her shaking legs. Genevieve screeches in his ear deafeningly enough to mistake her for a banshee. Her screaming ceases with the impact of Death's back smacking the wind out of her.

His claws grip the damaged wood pole, toes inches above the broken end. Genevieve's looking much like a shaking koala in a tree. Her face buried in Death's indigo cowl serving to muffle the many curses and threats she repeats upon her carrier."I hope you're not going to act like that the entire climb," He says, climbing up to the ceiling as far as the pole can allow him, "We have a long way to go."

A hysterical groan muffles from the creases of the cowl, sounding like she may have said, "Oh, Goody!"

He jumps from poles to the foundations on the walls. From the foundations to grinding along the surface with only his nails and sprinting feet to get him to the next cliff. Even with every yelp and curse that shoots out from the small passenger clinging for her dear afterlife, she's astounded. Never in her life has she seen anything Death has done in their short time together. Making her screams of fear turn a different direction. Becoming more like she's screaming on a roller coaster ride than fearing Death itself. She feels safer with the rider in her embrace, making her screams turn to laughter whenever Death's hands grapple a ledge. "You're having much more fun than I intended."

"Such a shame when plans backfire-" Another joyous cry interrupts her sentence along with her near indocile giggling. When her laughter calms just enough to finish her sentence, "Doesn't It?" She could see the skin that touches his mask creasing. Knowing there is smile curling underneath that bone mask.

Death and Genevieve arrive to what appears to be a the bleak foyer. Its dark with only dim candles to guide them through the piles of bodies lying about. Gates closed off with only platforms to activate them. On a strange stone shrine with one large inner ring and three small outer rings. Death holds stance dead center in the larger ring, calling upon his Dead Lords to do his bidding with an escalation of his palms.

A glowing green entity emerge from one of the rings. The Dead Lord, Phariseer, equipped to the teeth with heavy armor and an ax. He ironically holds tiresome, withered features as his body is mummified from the eons of suffering under The Lord Of Bone's torment.

"I will serve." Phariseer kneels before his victor who had beat him into submission in combat.

Death gives him commands to open latches and press on platforms. He complies almost instantly, Genevieve finds this curious. She finds his whole appearance to be curious, was she supposed to be a decomposing corpse that mindlessly follows orders?

She tries to ask but the corpse floats past her without a single glance as he only focuses on his master's order at hand. Whenever he would pass her, she would try to ask him something, anything. "Hey Phariseer, I was wonder..." Phariseer forging past her to his work as if she were not there. She tries again, "Did you ever think..." The Dead Lord ignoring her as before, only going to a different platform. But her questions are cut short with each attempt, only having her answers ignored as he presses the stock his giant ax unto another platform. Death and Genevieve passing through the final door to the Judicater's tomb. Gen didn't have much time left. "Did it ever come across to you that I'm just as dead as you are?"Genevieve's final question gets a response.

A glare from Phariseer's green arching eyes lock to her as he passes her a final time. The last gate is released and they pass through, Genevieve feeling the mercenary's glare she and Death pass. She knew that look, it's a look of overbearing envy. Enough jealousy and hatred to have one kill that person for what they have. Genevieve doesn't doubt that he wouldn't try if Death were not his master.

The only question is what is the reason for such hatred?

They pass an arcane barrier that resembles an electric fence used for retain the ghosts inside. When Death and Genevieve cross the smoking green barrier, the specter fades into the ground, the feeling of his glare on his object of abomination still lingering on her disturbingly.

"We're here." Death finally tells Genevieve. Genevieve's eyes sting to what feels as if she hasn't been near any natural light in years. The daylight keens and she gases at the thousand year old courtyard before her. The great castles slowly falling to mere shambles at the unrelenting force of time. Cages still holding the decayed bones of their captives hang by single shards of metal. There is an iron stand in the center of the rubble where someone similar to Phariseer resides, standing patiently to to land the judgment to give to the third soul.

"Judgment is at hand." The Judicater states.

Death's once wounded hand raises with a striking green hue. The human skull emerges from the interdiction shaking violently and pulls too the judge's grasp.

"Humans, always so frightened. . ." He glances to the girl slowly stepping behind her paid protector.

"See your life as you truly lived!" The soul disintegrates in an astonishing explosion in the Judicater's hands. Leaving only the soul's smoke in it's wake.

Death reaches around his back and grabs Genevieve by her chain mail.

"Were you certain that you heard only three souls confined in this dungeon?" He pulls her in front of him. She would have stumbled to the ground if it weren't for the blunt edges of the black metal fence catch her by the stomach. "For I may have recovered you a fourth."

Genevieve's anger points back to the horseman with betrayal. She hasn't felt this betrayed since that man promised her a some stardust and a night on the town and instead got three on a basement floor with rats and a blooded open neck. She opens her mouth to call him a "Cock Sucker," but the Judicater intervenes.

"You question my senses horseman." He states darkly, "I heard the cries of three souls, only three. I had perceived this human corpse in the dungeons." Genevieve looks up to the entity that holds the power to easily throw her into damnation. Her feeling of anger for the horseman overpowering her fear for the Judicater.

"But she is not for me to judge, she is not destined for where I would channel her." The judge of souls concludes.

"Any thought on where this 'destiny,' of hers resides?"

"I do not hold that answer, horseman."

"Then it is finished, your lord summons you."

He rises into the air from his metal stand, bowing before his new master. "I am forever his servant."

Judicater sinks to the ground into a spiral of scriptures, disappearing until his next call.

"You were going to let that guy take me off your hands, you Cock Sucker!" She snarls, reaching underneath her jacket for the amulet.

"Even though I wish he could, that wasn't my motive." He defended, "I was merely asking him if he was aware of your presence. It's not ordinary to come across a soul as intact as yours wandering the Land of the Dead." He walks in front of Genevieve to the exit of the Tomb. "Especially since the Earth's demise." The Earth girl's boots pause dead in their tracks. Her agitated look fades blank and grows pale.

"Wha- What do you mean, 'demise'? What's wrong with Earth?"

"You mean you are not aware . . ?" Death's stops his movements as well, he glances over his tattooed shoulder with a bewildered glare. ". . . How long were you in that dungeon?"

Yo.

So I've gotten reviews concerning how the story may or may not play out. They've been nice and helpful but I wanna say some things.

Okay, so this may start out working with the story, but it will trail off eventually,

I want to surprise you guys, I feel that stories that tie themselves too far into the actual game play have no surprises because most people beat the games before they read. So you know what happens to the main characters. And I don't like that shit. I put twists in my stories, because I wan't you guys to respond like, "WOAH, WOAH WHAT?"

you know what I mean?

Alright and secondly:

I've already gotten allot of characters down already but some that were mentioned in the reviews made my mind kinda blow up and now I have to do more research for writing, but the different races are gonna react to Genevieve in entirely different ways. For example, how the Dead Lords react to her. Which is by the way, really important and is gonna cause some serious shit later.

Okay I'm gonna go sleep off a headache.

bye for now.

~Lexi

P.S. More edits for punctuation to tell who the fuck is saying what.