• Everything is fun and games is it not? Singing and frolicking collectively with silly tales and earnest anecdotes. Streaming back and forth with worthless slapstick. It is sickening. If you desire to take heed of a justly superb tale, gather round. This is the story for Sir Samron Vendelmen.

    Golden eyes stare, dimly glowing from an undersized cherubic face. The keep smelt profoundly of mold and mildew. A boy-like figure sat comfortably on an immensely oversized throne, guarded by two gargantuan hooded beings, located on either side. His attire held a simple, ornate pattern of gold residing on a cobalt blue setting. The sharp eyes shifted jaggedly, left to right, up and down, examining the thick walls, covered in layers upon layers of tapestry; smoothly pointed ears listening for sounds. Petite hands tittered at the throne's cold, stone arms. A sharp, high-pitched noise reverberated from the child-like figure, into the extensive space before him, “So… What you are trying to tell me… Is that… There is someone around here…” he circles one hand in the air, “…that looks exactly like you… And… He’s ruining your life as you know it. Is that right Sir Vendelmen,” The voice swooshed now ever so slightly, obviously hinting an accent from a foreign land.

    “That is correct Lord Salazar,” A tall, well built knight with a chiseled face spoke clearly to the throned individual. He was clad in sturdy armor, and held a ostentatious helmet. The yellow eyes skittered about once again, now along with a rounded head, and long, smooth grey hair tied back in a cerulean ribbon; now appearing not as a lad, but as an elderly man, well into his years. Sir Vendelmen, growing impatient, started to inquire, “Lord Sala-“

    “Yes I heard you.” Lord Salazar's voice curtly snapped off that of Sir Vendelmen like a desiccated twig between two nimble fingers. Golden eyes were transfixed upon him; the facade in which they reside seeming to be that of a young child, once again. “Well… What am I supposed to do about it Sir Vendelmen, eh?” The tittering became ever more irritated.

    “I just… I just wanted a few men to-”

    “Oh! So that’s it, is it? We finally come to the purpose of this visit don’t we Sir Vendelmen! You think, I’ll send you on a wild goose chase, for some, mysterious doppelganger of yours, huh? You think I’m stupid? AH? I know what you want Sir Vendelmen, and no more. No! No more! Not after that last incident, no!” He waved his hands furiously, now out of his chair, “You, get out of my sight Sir Vendelmen!” His voice cracked sharply as he shrieked in a unadulterated fury.

    “Bu-“

    “NO!” Salazar raised his hands and the two hooded figures lunged out toward Vendelmen. Vendelmen quickly dodged the two and sprinted out of the keep. His blonde, shoulder-length hair whisking back and forth. He headed clear out of the Castle Salazar. “Psh, some castellan he is!” Samron Vendelmen said to himself when he reached the outer walls of the castle, “Short freak… I don’t need him. I can find this guy myself.” Yellow eyes from a stained window followed him out of the gates, and into the village.

    A shriek howled from behind him. Samron spun around to see a woman lying, lifeless on the ground. He frantically glanced about for the culprit and saw a man with golden locks, dressed in rugged armor, running in the opposite direction. “Him!” Vendelmen shouted, and chased after the man, into an alley between two shacks within the village. He pursued the man through whirling streets and restricted alleyways, and into a dark set of woods. After losing sight of the perpetrator, he spun around, glancing toward every corner possible searching for a glimpse of something, anything! Revolving hastily, colors turning and switching to other colors. A lump. A huge lump tearing into the back of his head. Darkness.

    The odor of burning wax pierced his senses. Samron tried to come to, unsuccessfully. He opened his eyes slightly to see… Himself. He was tearing apart his own skin. Ripping it from his body. Flesh, melting as it hit the floor of the cave around him; teeth flying out of his very mouth. Fingers tearing apart as he struggled to remove every last piece of skin. Moans of pain exerted from his mouth as he attempted to get at his back. Flesh fell off, as did hair. A new pale white complexion resided underneath. Hair growing back… But… Not his hair. Black, rugged hair. Bones cracked and stretched apart as he became taller and thinner. New, crooked teeth came in where his had been. Nostrils stretching upward to a disfigured nose. Wrinkles coming from under the eyes and above. A gaunt body trembled before Samron. Eyes. Eyes shooting open to show an icy bluish-white, shining brightly off the ever so dim candlelight. It was not him… No, indeed it was someone completely different, separate. A monster. Thump. Falling to his feet, exhausted. The light softened, and turned to nothing. Pass out.

    The subtle scent of vanilla and lavender filled Samron’s mind. He rose slightly, barely awake. “Hey,” came a low set voice, sounding like nails upon stone. Vendelmen shot up, startled by the inhuman sound. He turned to view the repugnant being which he had seen himself become before. Those eyes. Those eyes that glow like the most gleaming of stars, shine into Samron's soul, piercing his very being. “Wh-What do you want with me? Anything you want, its yours.” Samron scooted back quickly, retreating from what he accounted to being a man.

    “You have nothing I want. I don’t need gold, nor jewelry, I don’t need to be knighted, or even respected at that” the eyes spoke, “All I want… Is your life,” Samron’s eyes opened wide. He tried to rise to his feet, but stumbled and failed.

    “Wh- No!”

    “Yes. I’ve chosen you. You are the one whose life I will take. You are the one whose life I shall make my own.”

    “You monster!”

    A gurgling chortle undulated from the icy eyes, “You see… That’s one of the oh so many reasons why I chose you. You see those around you as freaks. Freaks! All those who aren’t like you. Have you ever once been the freak? Have you? Have you lived your life alone in fear of all those around you. In fear of your own face? You don’t know what its like. What it’s like to wake up in the morning and not have anyone around you, as to comfort you. You do not know what it is like, never to have been loved. What it is like to have your own mother feel you are so hideous, that she throws you into the woods, as for the wolves to do as they like with you.” The eyes were wide and threatening, “ And you know what. Good for you, you never will… But then again… Never shall I, ever again.” He pushed Samron into a deep puddle nearby, riddled with stalagmites rising like spears from the cold, unforgiving ground. Hands grasped around his neck, Samron struggled to release himself, but to no avail, for the man was abnormally powerful for his emaciated build. Samron’s lungs burned with a flame unlike any sulfurous fire the world must ever know and collapsed inward, filling with fiery water. Vendelmen gasped desperately for air. Water poured relentlessly into his failing lungs. Objects blurred into a visage of ineffable shades of color. What was once there no longer is, and what was never there now appears. Body becoming lifeless. Mind… Slowing… To… Nothing… Nothing… Nothing… But frozen eyes.