The Knights of Falor p.3 (Fantasy: 907 words)

Here is part THREE of the prologue, if you have not read parts one and two, here are the links:

Part I: http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=70814&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0

Part II: http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=70891&highlight=

Prologue: Part III

The stone walls of the dungeon shed tears from times of agony, pain and hatred. Carvings of odd pictures were etched into the walls, mysterious and different from the odd, continuously smooth walls. The floor and staircase were of callous stone, and were the color of pitch black denial. An audience clapped silently after each step of the staircase, the deep-set rock absorbing the steel in the guard's boots. Arthur followed the sapphire-cloaked man, with the guards tracking him in a single file order. They spun around the tight curves of the staircase, feeling the grooves in the stone for support against the steep, small steps. The steps ended and with a cobalt flourish, the man snickered and led them deeper in the dungeon, following hallways that smelled of a mix of blood, vinegar and dying souls.

The man led the sentries down the gloomy passage, his awkward stride now an incredibly open, wide stance; his goal seemed to be moving the legs as far as possible, each and every step. Rain dropped in from the ceiling, and every now and then a slight pitter-patter was heard. The rain was like the cloaked man, odd and full of deceit, you never knew when it was going to fall upon you.

The guards had never been to the dungeons; they were just the Lord's hired guard. Even now, the guards had no clue why they were going into the dungeons, or why they kept following the mysterious figure. Fargus eyed the man questionably, and tried to complain with the Captain as they turned another corner in the passage. The Captain brushed off the notion, and followed the grade as they went dove deeper and deeper into the catacombs.

They had walked for about an hour straight, when they finally reached the cell. The company of guards looked into the prison, starring into nothingness. There was nothing there. No one was in the cell. The bars were snapped, and were the homes of rust and cobwebs- straying from the cracked and obtuse stone floor. The roof was slightly caved in, and patches of sand and dust lay growing in the corners. The man snickered again- his laugh was somewhat ominous. Fargus began to stutter, beginning to get the picture, slightly after the rest of the company.
"Th… Ther… There's notin' there Cap'n." The Captain didn't respond, so the cloaked man took responsibility.
"You see Fargus," He strolled along the guard's line, his voice hissing like a python. "This is what I was ordered to do. I was ordered- to come here, to kill you." The man drew a blood-red saber from beneath his cloak.
"Let's make it quick, yes?" He struck down on Fargus, bringing the sword down and jabbing it through his heart, and Fargus collapsed to his knees, gripping his stomach.

Now all the guards had caught on. They drew their blades, and set a position to attack. The man leapt at the guard closest to Fargus, and struck. The guard's blade was sliced in half, as was his mail. He too fell to his knees, screaming as his life drained away as each drop of blood hit cold stone. The man laughed again, standing in front of the company of guards, feeding off their hatred at his betrayal. The Captain rushed forward, and dove at the cloaked man, bringing them both to the floor. With incredible speed, the man flipped the Captain over, slit his throat, and got up effortlessly, continuing his interrupted laugh. Some of the guards panicked, and began to flee down the corridor- but the man raised his hand and the ceiling fell upon them, drowning him in debris. There were two guards left- a stout, muscular guard who held a large axe, and Arthur.

The wrathful cloaked man stepped through the negritude and closer to remaining duo. His foreboding laugh still rang through the hallways, as he swirled his sword in an expert maneuver. He charged at the man with the axe, and slid beneath his feet, swinging his sword as he did so; to neatly cut his legs. The guard yelled in agony, and fell to the floor like the rest of the company.

"So you are the last one standing then- what is your name?" The man cocked his head as he put his sword over his shoulder. "Ar… Arthur…" Arthur said, in shock from all his dead companions surrounding him. The man un-cocked his head. "Goodbye, Arthur." The man seemed to think this was comical, so he laughed again. Arthur stepped back towards the landslide, holding his sword in a defensive position. Once again, the man did his usual dash towards his opponent. Arthur dodged the first jab, and thrust his sword out, ripping off the man's cloak. The man grimaced, and threw a hard punch at Arthur's face, sending him flying into the fallen debris. He walked towards Arthur's body, and picked him up with inhuman strength, and starred right into his eyes.
"Do you know what I am, Arthur?" Arthur struggled to reply starring into three eyes, and got out a wobbly "No…"
"Good." The man threw Arthur against the stone wall, and a loud crack resounded from the catacombs. Arthur fell to the ground, barely breathing, crippled, and unconscious. The man walked away, clearing the debris with a sweep of his hands, his burnt flesh, and monstrous, hulking form, plowing through the wreckage.