Ancient pillars loomed in the shadows, carved runes coming to life as flickering firelight danced across the smooth, dark surfaces. Long, bright tongues of flame licked at the air, the stone cradles of fire running along the enchanted walls. Haunted light glowed as shadows danced across the chamber. Several agonized groans echoed into the darkness, it's origin slumped against a cold wall. Pale, elegant fingers gently pried armor from tormented flesh. Lips pulled back to bare filed teeth, cruelly pointed and demonic. An animalistic growl rumbled from the depths of a broad, finely toned chest. Blue, supernatural eyes squinted with pain. The pale hands continued to strip the bloodied armor from the Hessian, and his black, cotton shirt thereafter. The absorbent fabric had been caught in the wound as the blood dried, and required a swift but gentle tug to release the reddened flesh.
Fresh blood trickled down his back; warm and reeking of a familiar, metallic scent. One long-fingered hand rested on his shoulder, preventing the horseman from swiveling at the waist. The other hand, gentle but strong, smeared something thick and cool into the deep wound. Withered nerve endings and ruptured veins reconnected, torn ligaments and severed tissue knitted back together. The mercenary lashed out, a new, sudden surge of agony finally setting him into a red-hazed fury. But before he could spin around and lunge at whomever was causing such distress, the man found his face pressed against the cold stone floor, a heavy weight bearing down just below his lower back. This strange person was sitting on him! Squirming, the Hessian tried to flip himself over and pin this strange being to the ground, but failed miserably. His strength dissipated in a sudden wave of nausea, and fell back to the expertly crafted slabs of black granite.
A light, feathery sigh tickled his ear, sending an electrified shiver down his spine. Then the weight was gone, along with the fiery pain in his back. It was as if no blade and entered his body. A slight, cunning smirk twitched at the corners of the horseman's lips. Now he could finally see this ever elusive entity, and hopefully, find a way from that cursed place.
But once again, the mercenary was outmatched. Just as he spun smartly on his heel, a fist slammed into his face, and everything went black...
Clouded eyes fluttered open, an icy gaze meeting the warm light of a dwindling fire. Groggily, the man ran his long, spindly fingers through his unruly mass of black hair and sat in the silken covers. Thick, vibrant tapestries cloaked each wall; scenes of past battles, great hunts and long forgotten warriors depicted upon the woven fabrics. A large, arching fireplace and mantle made of white, glittery stone sat in the middle of one wall; an earthly brown bear rug stretched before it. Swinging his legs over the side of the large bed, he paused for a moment, recollecting the past events that had taken place. A soft, deerskin rug lay on the wooden floor as well, its gentle brown and white coloring suggestive of a young buck. Glancing around the spacious room, he noticed that the wooden boards were polished and worn smooth by countless steps, unlike the floors he had seen in rich men's houses; sanded to a shiny polish by carpenters. Cautiously, the Hessian tread across the room, and slowly opened the door. Poking his head out, his eyes eyes met a grand hallway, lit by medieval torches and carpeted with fine fabrics. Slipping through the doorway, he stealthily made his way down he hallway; a silent shadow amongst fallen gods. Not a single door graced the stone walls, nor did any passageway that might lead away from that haunted place. The man walked for what seemed like hours, the damned hall never ending. Something dark loomed ahead, pinned against the cold grey granite. Slinking into the shadows, he watched the form, never blinking, lest it should move. But it did not. The dark blob just.... stood there. Gritting his teeth, the mercenary crept forward, lithe muscles twitching with form rose toward the ceiling, it's dark surface carved and polished. A door. It was merely an oak door. Berating himself for being so foolish, he grasped the ivory handle and turned it. Slowly opening the door, the man paused for a moment, absorbing everything into his memory.
Animal skins littered the floor, both familiar and exotic. Some he was not certain were even animals. Instead of the torches that hung on the stone walls of the hallway, orbs of light floated in the air; casting gentle light upon everything. Elegantly crafted furniture decorated the large chamber, ranging from the darkest Ebony to the palest Holly. A large, delicately crafted canvas bed of white ash stood at the farthest wall, it's broad head-board pushed up against the glittering stone. For lack of armor, the German stalked cautiously toward one side of the bed, flinching slightly when the silver sheets moved. A hand sheathed in skin of creme and silk protruded from the mass and pillows and blankets, flopping carelessly over the edge of the mattress. Stealing up the shallow steps, he carefully weaved through the thin, luminescent curtains that hung from the canopy. Hesitating for a moment, the man wondered briefly what could possibly lay beneath the swaths of silver. Gripping the soft, smooth envelopment, the horseman flipped them back with a yank. Wide, night grey eyes stared up into electrified blue irises.