Oooo yeeesh come along the pyre thou' who wishes to heer the story of the temple of thy olde king.
By the middle ages a knight was ordered by his lord to send thy news to thy olde king, crossing the desert. He received some golden tokens for him to rent the camel when he got there and was told to visit at night.
By the time he arrived at the front of thy olde castle, his skin was shivering. It was at this point that he decided to knock the door, for no one was responding. He had travelled for 2 days, and the anxiety was KILLING him, minutes turned into hours as he saw the sun slowly fade and the sky turn black. And when it was as if he was sleeping, a croaking door started to make noise, he thought he was mad, but the door was opened, with a darkness much more dark than the one outside.
As soon as he entered, the door stood shut. "I came here to send the news!" screamed thy knight while his skeleton sent shivers down thy spine. Not a single word was uttered, his last chance was to bring a torch to life, with the stones that the desert traveller sold him.
The room turned orange, and as he was staring at the step, he got closer and closer to the throne of thy olde king. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw his throne facing backwards. Veeery shy, he asked if he wanted to know the news. Not a siingle word, was uttered.
The only thing the knight could do, was slowly turn the throne towards him. And so he did, veeery slowly, the throne was screeching as it was being turned to his direction. His face was frightened but impossible to see, his cold was ravaging but only noticed by small shakes, his hunger fed his anxiety, HE KEPT GOING AND WHAT DOES HE SEE?
As he turns the throne towards him, he sees... nothing.
"What the..." he asked, confused how such an important figure would leave his most important position in his life. The eyes of him couldn't be more opened from the shock of it.
But... as soon as the knight... turns his head towards the hall.
He felt to the floor, dropped his torch next to him, and the carpet below him was set into fire. In the blink of an eye, this wonderful structure of the age, has turned into a human oven. His armour was burning him, his sweat was blinding him, and his fear was numbing him.
And from the middle of the fire, he lingers. He who he came for lingers. The one who the news was meant for lingers. With his head pitch black and a dirty robe of white, he approached inmensively slowly as if it were of a ghost.
"I'VE BEEEN WAITIIIIIING, FOR FAAAAAAAAAAR TOOOOOOOOO LOOOOOOONG"
The figure stretched his hand. The knight didn't knew what to do, for the hand looked as if it was of someone who was dead. Pitch black from the fire, his fingers were thin as sticks and the skin as paper.
In his desperation, he had no choice. To not turn to death from the fire, in hopes of salvation, he grabbed thy olde king's hand...
"NOW THAT YOU'RE STUCK WITH ME YOU BETTER BE MY FRIEND"
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