Darris didn't know what to think when he opened his eyes to the night sky. He was flat on his back. Cold and wet dirt covered his back. He was on dirt... not stone. The next thing he noticed was that he still couldn't see out of his right eye. He felt his face; a hole was where his eye would've been. Still gone. Then he noticed his skin. Or what was left of it.
His body was partially decayed. Bits of skin were torn away, revealing corroded muscle and veins that were no longer filled with blood. He was a walking corpse. He was alive... if you would even consider being undead 'alive'.
Darris sat up. He was in a graveyard. Oddly fitting. No other undead were around, just a plethora of graves all around him. He stood up. He could move freely, regardless of the fact that his blood no longer ran through his body. Next to him lay several of his belongings from his home, or from his bunk in the guildhall.
A small lockbox whose lock had rusted away to nearly nothing.
A hand drawn picture of him, his mom, dad, brother and sister. An arrow pointed to the girl, at the other end it read 'me'. Darris smiled at his sister's drawing.
Then there was a pen, covered in dirt that stuck to it. On the side, in fancy lettering, read 'for fame and honour'. The motto of the Fame Guild.
Next was his guild badge. A small circular piece of cloth with two silver stars pinned to it, signifying his rank.
He picked up the lockbox and pulled it open, the rusted lock crumbled with little effort. Inside was a well preserved, but still weathered monochrome photo of him, Trent, Isak, Elrik, and Tempest. The first photo they'd taken once squad 12 was formed. And, to Darris's knowledge, the only one.
Under the photo was a small golden necklace. He remembered it as a gift from Tempest. He gave it to him for his birthday. The first one since joining the guild. And the only one. The charm of a golden sword dangled from the thin chain.
Without thinking he unclipped the chain and put it around his neck. The necklace was surprisingly warm for having been locked away in a box.
Darris closed the box after having looked through its contents.
Finally, there was a unique dagger laying on the side of his grave. Trent's dagger he'd given to Darris. The dagger had not worn at all in the time it was placed there. The blade of the dagger was thin and smooth, at the bottom two smaller bladed prongs stuck from the hilt guard. Across the wooden hilt was the number 12 written in elvish script.
Darris picked up the dagger and tucked it within his tattered shirt.
In front of where he'd woken up was a gravestone, partially crumbled over so many years. However the carvings were still legible.
Darris Grimhul
8th of Star's Passing- 24th of Celestial's Passing
522-546
"An honourable hero"
A faint smile spread across Darris's face. He had been hailed as a hero for what he'd done in life. Then a voice spoke from behind him.
"Are you done gawking at your own grave?" They asked from behind him.
Darris quickly turned around to see a figure sitting atop one of the gravestones. His skin was pale grey. He wore oddly fine clothing, however it wasn't very well kept. He wore a black tunic with silver trimming along the edges. Over it was a black coat with many different symbols lining the sleeves in a mix of gold and silver. Then, over one of his shoulders was an emerald green cowl with golden silk along the edges.
His eyes were the same emerald green colour. His ears came to a dull point away from his head; and his hair was smooth and pitch black. The locks of hair reflecting the silvery moonlight from the sky.
"Who are-" Darris was cut off when the figure spoke again.
"Svalken." He said calmly. His voice was deep but smooth. As if he had never raised his voice in his life. "I'm the reason you're a walking corpse." He spoke as if it was a normal thing to say.
"You resurrected me?" Darris asked.
Svalken just rolled his eyes. "Clearly." He said, then he sighed. He got off of the grave stone and stepped foot onto the grass as if he wasn't sure what it was. "I needed a student and you were the only thing in this graveyard worth anything." he explained.
"Uh... thanks?" Darris said, tilting his head slightly to one side. "A student for what?" He asked.
Svalken scratched the back of his neck. "Oh yeah, that's important." he mumbled, more to himself than to Darris. "You're a Reaper." He said.
Darris paused for a moment. "What's-" He began, but, once again, Svalken cut him off with a groan. "Why must I explain all of this to you?" he sighed.
"What a Reaper does depends on what cycle they're a part of." Darris opened his mouth to speak but Svelken spoke again. "It's like a group... or a faction." he answered. "You and I are a part of the Sympathy Cycle. We cause harm to people who've harmed others." he explained.
A brief silence washed over the two. Darris slowly processed all the information he'd been given. Then he was just left with one question. "Why? If that's what we do, then why not join a guild?" He asked, crossing his arms.
Svalken's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He sighed; a long annoyed sigh. He cursed under his breath. "How do I put this?" He asked himself. "We steal souls from dead things to fuel our own power." He said.
Darris's eyes widened. "We're necromancers?" He asked quickly.
Svalken glared at Darris. "Don't tie us in with those imbeciles. They know nothing of souls or life force. All they do is animate the corpses of creatures. To call a Reaper a necromancer is an insult." He spat out.
Darris blinked a few times. "Oh... so then how do you use souls? And what powers?" He asked.
Svalken sighed again. "Hold out your hand." He grumbled.
Darris tilted his head. "How would-"
"Just do it."
Darris held out his hand, palm facing the sky.
"Imagine a weapon. Any weapon, preferably something you're familiar with." He said.
Darris thought for a moment, concentrating on visualising a suitable weapon. He found it nearly immediately, for he'd used the exact blade a thousand times. Then a heavy but familiar weight formed in his hand. He opened his eyes to find a simple scimitar in his hand. Just like the one he used to wield.
Svalken's eyes narrowed. "A bit boring; anyways, that's called a soul armament. All reapers have one. A weapon they can call upon at any moment in case they need it." He explained.
Darris gently swung the scimitar a few times. It was just slightly heavier then the scimitar he used to use. Then again that one had been specially made for him once he'd become an official member of the Fame guild. "What else can we do?" He asked, looking back up at Svalken.
Suddenly the weight in his hand disappeared.
Svalken rolled his eyes. "You need to concentrate on the weapon to keep it with you. Otherwise it vanishes. You'll need to know that when in a fight. Unless you feel like dying a second time?" He'd said. "As for the question: You can't really do any of it if you don't have souls within your system. And, considering you just woke up, you don't." He said, then he glanced off into the distance. "'Less you want to murder some civilians."
Darris's brows knit as he took a step to see what Svalken ment. What he saw next made his jaw drop.
It was Vanderin; the town he'd grown up in. Lanterns lit the dirt streets that many citizens walked across, even then at such a late hour. The small bar in town, the Rusty Cup, still had lanterns lit within it, shining like a beacon to anyone who came across it. So many things he remembered from his childhood.
Then he looked across the town to the rolling fields of wheat, which seemed to have nearly doubled in size since he'd last been there. The crops weren't fully grown, only a few months from being right to harvest.
Then his vision drifted over to his old home. For a moment he didn't recognize. It was no longer a small hut, but a decent house that rivalled that of the tavern itself. It had become one of the largest houses in town. Although that wasn't saying too much.
Although, the more he looked about the more he noticed how much bigger the town had gotten. Many new buildings had been built along the edges of where the town used to be. The ones that had existed so long ago had either been replaced and repurposed for other buildings, added upon to become bigger.
So much progress in the time he'd been gone. Then a thought coursed through his mind like a bolt of lightning. "How long have I been dead?" He asked, turning to Svalken.
"Considering your gravestone is accurate. Over 200 years." He said calmly.
Darris's eyes widened. "What?!" He shouted, making Svalken flinch slightly. Several thoughts crossed his mind just then. How much has the world changed? Was his family bloodline still alive? What had happened at the Ziggurat once he'd died? After all there still had been more skilled adventures going toward the temple.
"The ziggurat. What happened at the Ziggurat? There were demon's everywhere. They swarmed us. Did the new adventurers wipe them out? Was the summoner killed?" He asked quickly.
Svalken looked at him. Then, slowly his face turned to awe. Then just as quickly shifted back. "You were there at the Ruination? The specific spot?" He asked.
"The... what?" Darris asked.
Now Svalken actually did look shocked. Then he sighed, and his face looked slightly sorry for Darris. "That... 'problem' at the ziggurat was never solved. It just got worse. Much worse. Demons and Devils alike began flooding into the material plane. Then they began tearing everything apart, even themselves." He said, then corrected himself. "Especially themselves." Then he sighed. "A new Ruin was formed; 'The Ruin of Hades' as people call it."
Then he looked away. "Then how did your body get here? No one has been able to get within a mile of that temple without getting slaughtered." He asked, more to himself than to Darris.
He sighed. "Whatever, that doesn't matter now-"
"It does matter." Darris shouted. "What's happened to Sige? How many people have died? Is the Fame guild still active? Are we safe? Is this town safe?" He asked.
Svalken was silent for a moment, then chose to answer the question he knew. "This town is safe, it's all the way across the continent from the ruination. The fiends haven't ventured past the Earthen Spine." He explained, referring to a large mountain range that spanned across the entirety of eastern Sige. "Wonder how long those fortresses will last." He mumbled to himself.
He glanced at Darris, noting his worried expression. "We're fine. The fiends can't get this far west." He said, beginning to walk toward the town. "Now, let's go check into that tavern." He said, glancing back at Darris. Then he sighed.
He stepped toward him and set a hand on his head. Suddenly, Darris felt a cool wave flow over him, like a wave of water. Then he looked at himself. His skin had colour. His veins seemed to flow with blood, his wounds had healed completely. "You healed me?" Darris asked in amazement.
"No." Svalken spat out, as if it were obvious. "It's an illusion over your body so you don't look like a corpse."
It was at that moment that Darris noticed he still couldn't see out of his right eye. Still missing. Slightly disappointed, but still happy to venture back into his home town, Darris and Svalken walked into the town, one more enthusiastic than the other.