//------------------------------// // Trust No Shadow // Story: Of Treasures and Darkness // by Material Defender //------------------------------// Blake opened his eyes, now aware that he was in dire need of an intake of air. He gulped as much of the oxygen as he could, letting his body stabilize itself before turning his attention to where he lay now. He rubbed the back of his head, as it was throbbing intensely, most likely from the tumble he had taken after the lights went out. "Ugh... son of a bitch..." he said, groggily standing up. He righted his body with a quick support of his arm against the ground when he felt himself lose balance, but he soon regained control of most of his motor functions without the risk of toppling over. His torch had fallen in with him, it seemed, and it now was burning brightly again. He waved his finger around the flame, just to be sure. His new environment, however, was something completely beyond him. He stood on what seemed to be another stone bridge of some sort... except it felt more like a hallway. There were drops into some endless darkness on either side for some length, and from there, large decorated walls seem to line the entirety of his line of sight for both directions... Blake figured that as much as clues were irrelevant to his task, it would seem to be the only way he got out of it now. But, first things first: he checked his pack and noticed that the crystal orb was still within. In fact, the orb itself seemed to glow even more in the dark than it did before. Very interesting. "Where the hell am I...?" he said to no one in particular. A presence of voice, even if it was only your own, served to calm frayed nerves quite well. It was a trick he picked up when roving with a caravan through some north African desert tombs once. He waved the torch around, acutely aware that there was the presence of flowing air that seemed to be almost as cold as the orb itself. It wasn't cold enough to the point where he could see his breath, but he could definitely feel his fingers balk at the temperature. Thank goodness he was wearing gloves, even if they were fingerless. Looking to his left and right, he simply did an eeny-meeny-miny-moe method of selection: it landed on the hallway to his right, and so he began to proceed down the length of the empty hall. The walls were huge, seemingly stretching up into the sky... or some infinite darkness, if one could call it that. They all seemed to share some repeating pattern of that one armor-wearing pegasus/unicorn mix going to battle against one just like her... except the presence of a sun behind the second one seemed to indicate a different affinity. Good versus evil. Light versus dark. And he must have been, as much as he didn't like to entertain the thought, sucked into some world or realm where the darkness called home. That meant he was in a bad place. He only had enough mobile rations for at least two weeks' stay, and like hell if he was going to let himself rot in this hole in the ground. And then there were the tales of monsters... yeah, he wasn't going to let himself get jumped, even if they were imaginary boogeymen that some drunk hunters had dreamed up. He pulled out his Colt, making sure the gun was primed and ready to use. He extended his torch-holding left arm, positioning his gun on top of the left forearm to maintain some aim stability, and cautiously proceeded down the rest of the hall. The silence was deafening. The only sound accompanying him was his own heavy but calm breathing, and the sound of his boots against the ancient stone as he carefully proceeded, eyes forward. He occasionally risked a look behind him every now and then to make sure he wasn't being followed. There was nothing... but the darkness gave off a bad feeling. A feeling like he was being watched. He heard the sound of a tap and wheeled around, aiming his gun down the hall, down the sides, and up the walls. There was nothing there. He was treading into some dangerous Indiana Jones territory... supernatural and evil and all that crazy crap, with some mind games to boot. Though Blake didn't have a whip and a revolver, he had a handgun and a shotgun, and that would hopefully be more than enough to fend off whatever that was stalking him. His decision to bring extra ammunition had been lucky: he'd known that some cartel groups liked getting the jump on treasure hunters, so he'd brought a lot of extra ammunition this time around, expecting a firefight. He had eight magazines for his handgun, and enough shells to cover his shotgun's five-count load capacity at least eight times over. And then he still had his machete if things truly hit rock bottom. "Fuck this shit..." he muttered, turning back towards his direction of travel, and began running, torch and gun in hand. It hadn't taken him long before he exited the hallway, now confirmed to be part of a huge domed building, before he ended up outside. Or at least, what he thought was outside. He stood on one of many walls overlooking a huge city with towering architecture, spires visible even far in the distance. There didn't seem to be any sign of other lights except for the torch he held. And the sky was purple... a deep, swirling, and really dark purple, like a miasma of some sort. He looked out across the sky, his mind fumbling to ascertain whether or not the place he stood in now was even real. Had he just taken a fall? Lost his footing in the dark and hit his head? No, if he was perfectly aware of his many fingers were on his hand, and could even see them, then this was definitely not a dream. Dreams didn't fill you in on specific and pointless details like fingers, rather preferring to keep things blurry and vague. And his torch and gun felt rugged in his hands, heavy with weight. He could even read the model designation on the barrel of the handgun. No, he was definitely here. Now his only problem was trying to get out. Perhaps time didn't flow normally back in his own world... hopefully he wouldn't end up missing his payday after being gone for God knows how long. The wall that he stood in stretched towards an even larger dome in the distance. If there was something important, like his means of escape... then that was where it would be. He jogged forwards, passing under a number of stone awnings, again noting the architecture relating to equine species. The followers of this strange deity must have built this city as a place of worship... but the scale in which it had been built was breathtaking, easily requiring at least decades to complete. He heard the sound of footsteps faster than his own, and quickly turned around to see a quadruped being cloaked in black smoke jump at him. Dodging quickly, he waved the torch in front of him, fending off the creature, which was now circling him. Whatever it was, he couldn't tell: the smoke obscured far too much of the face, but the glowing white eyes on it suggested that Blake was currently holding its attention. It soon stopped, clearing the smoke and revealing a hideous white face, opening its mouth of sharp teeth and roaring at him. Unflustered, Blake simply put a round through the thing's head with his Colt, earning a yelp as the body stiffly hit the floor. "Bullets solve lots of things..." he said, tapping the creature again with the lit end of his torch, only to notice the flame quickly wreath the carcass in flames and turning it to ash, not even leaving the bones behind. So this creature of the dark didn't have a proclivity for fire... and where there was one, there was most certainly going to be more. He heard a howl and noticed a bunch of flying creatures in the distance, circling around one of the larger spires in that direction. Not willing to chance whether or not they were heading his way, he quickly continued down the rest of the wall. Looking over his shoulder, Blake felt relieved that the winged creatures did not give chase. It certainly would have been a waste of his ammunition, but he preferred to not waste his torch. Heaving against the wall, he quickly collected himself, before heading into the giant dome. There was a huge statue here, depicting that same armored unicorn/pegasus in a more regal fashion, rearing into the air as he held his torch to get a better look. It was small in comparison to the actual space: it was simply there in the center, roughly around twice as tall as he was, and was surrounded by absolutely nothing for a huge area around. The purple sky was visible through a tiny hole in the roof, and he took special note of how the roof of the temple was built in a similar fashion. He began to examine the walls again, hoping to find any clues to his whereabouts, or perhaps a map leading to wherever that would take him home. His own torch gave an admirable spread of light as he trailed along the curving walls, flickering a haunting orange glow on the murals as he ran his hand over them. When he walked around a quarter of the dome's circular walls, he found yet another hallway leading to an exit. It seemed that the dome had an exit going in four directions, and he'd only found another one. Normally, it wouldn't have even been worth mentioning, but there were some details at this second exit that drew his attention. There was blood on the floor. Crouching down, he brought his torch closer to examine the small pool of red, only to realize that there were more scattering inwards towards the statue. It was still liquefied, and still very much red... that meant that whatever or whoever was here, had been here recently, and definitely would be nearby somewhere. Quickly trailing back his steps to the statue, he found a pair of the strange creatures like the one he fought earlier, except their heads and sides were seemingly smashed in, and the black smoke gone, revealing a sickly and disfigured version of what appeared to be a small pony, with sharp teeth. The smell was a bit rank, and he ended up pinching his nose as there was another trail of blood drips leading to an exit, the one opposite he had come in from. Blake lit the corpses on fire, sending their dust to the winds of this strange world, before following the trail towards the exit. There, he found yet another clue, and one that gave him hope that there was someone else stuck in this damned world like he was: a hat, laying on the ground. A small white-tan hat with a single band of green cloth tied around it. There were holes on either side of the rims, though whether it was for ventilation or some other means was beyond him. He figured that the original owner would most likely want it back... hats could be precious things to some people, so he tossed it into his pack, making sure his other supplies wouldn't end up crumpling the small object. After taking a quick check on his Colt, he proceeded along the trail, making sure that there weren't any more of those strange beings nearby. Perhaps if they did follow him, they would be more distracted by the sight of their dead brethren instead. The exit didn't had led to something rather unexpected... a flight of stairs, leading down into the city. On the walls, there was the slightest, but vague trace of light from the midnight purple skies, but down in the city, the shadows of the buildings easily eclipsed any natural light around. His torch would be his only bet... aside from his floodlight, but that was far too concentrated and claustrophobic for his liking. "Decisions, decisions..." he muttered to himself, trying on whether to descend into the city of darkness. His decision came easily enough, however, when he heard the sound of some metal clanking followed by the sound of a female screaming from down below. Scrambling down the stairs, he quickly leveled himself into a combat stance, reverting back to his forearm stability with his gun on top to be ready to fire at anything hostile that moved.