The land was oppressive. It was dark, and somber did not do well to describe the feeling David felt. His boots were heavy. Hiking without a carriage, thirty kilometers, over the course of an evening, was plain and simply, a terrifying experience. Pushing him through the dark along the road that laid ahead, was the luminous moon and stars sweeping across the evening sky. Daunting, all though the task, David concluded he should rest and re-calibrate his direction. He gazed up at the galaxies roaming around the cosmos, the explosions that were happening far away, long ago. Feeling abysmally dissatisfied, after having gotten his bearings; David proceeded on his way. His deliberations made him relatively chagrinned, his feet were tired and his legs hurt. This was not just The Fringe; of The Kingdom Of Clover, it was further still. This was the Shadowlands. A barren, fickle land, the kind that shifted perilously like a snake underfoot. David pushed forward, gritting his teeth. He had happened upon a peculiar book, while sorting through the library the morning prior; a tome that had been recently authored. The article of knowledge was a description of the shadow lands. David immediately became curious. The archivist was amicable after having his collection sorted, and loaned him the map. Sensibly, David packed supplies. Water, food; that sort of thing. Intrepid adventure was ahead of him, he realized quickly however he had skimmed over the smaller details.  Details like, maybe, this map was written in red ink in the scrawl of a madman.

David hadn't slept over the course of the evening's hike. It was too perilous to stop for long this far from home. Though David always had a weapon at his side, fatigue was setting in over the course of the journey, and he knew being tired could be just as deadly as it was fatal in most mortal instances. The landscape was bleak, damned, and of course, more inhospitable than any other part of the kingdom. Shadows danced in the corners of his vision, billowing past him incomprehensibly as if there was something there, but when David looked, he saw nothing. Nothing but blight. Had there truly been demons roaming this land, his home? What might he do if he encountered one? David fought perilously with sleepless delirium. While his mind's focus became disparate, his eyes lingered where his next footsteps would fall, eagerly searching for some anomaly in the dirt beneath his feet. No longer interested in the sky above him, David noted that the atmosphere bitterly sapped away at his boundless enthusiasm. He had felt it in every stride past The Fringe. An insidious feeling; a pervasive miasma of loneliness, David felt weary. Tarrying for a moment, before carrying on. David inspected the almanac and peered off into the darkness. Seeing only a sable spire in the distance, David appropriated that he was near the Regnum Umbra. A beacon of salvation, listed in the map as a notable location. Not necessarily his destination, but certainly a sight to behold. 

Ahead, was a darker darkness. Although the present conditions proffered low visibility, he wondered, how far could he endeavor? David knew not. Pressing forward, as a man does when given no road, David's burden was his alone to bear. He peered pensively around, nibbling on a stale bread end. From what he could fathom, to add as his contribution to the chronicle of this place, David would recommend bringing company. David found himself sitting on a shard of what he presumed to be rock. The wind that swept over him; every now and then, was filled with sediment. It discomforted David. The grit he felt in the corners of his mouth, it wasn't pleasant. Peering down, he noticed a sparkle in the grime of the silty soil just below where he sat. Upon closer inspection, it was a silver glint. David praised his luck, throwing caution to the wind, as far as curses were concerned. He picked up the silver chain; simple and elegant in design, noticing the baubles attached. The pendant on the necklace was of an ornate silver crescent moon around two inches big, hanging from the top of the moon seemed to be an opal that was surrounded by a golden cage; being itself around half an inch big. The caged opal seemed to be ambiguous in-design, but David had already tallied the proportional wealth he was currently holding. What exceeding fortune, David thought as he rubbed some dirt from the cage.

The opal within began to glow dimly. What a delightful enchantment, thought David. However, the gem turned black before shining a sickly orange colour. The shadows around David seemed to gather at his feet, unnaturally pooling into a mist. He distinctly felt something taking a considerable tax on his mana reserve, as an apparition appeared. As he noticed this, a particularly tall scarecrow suddenly sprang into existence, it's head was a pumpkin; which turned David's legs to jelly. He fumbled for his grimoire, scrambling away on the ground out of sheer terror. His voice was strenuously desperate and it roared from a place of fear, "Lenore!" Feeling incredibly tired, David gripped the handle of his blade; which appeared behind him, and swung a strike at the apparently inanimate scarecrow. The bones rattled from the blow, the bells jangled. The uncomfortable feeling, of glancing it's exterior and dealing no damage, horrified David. Seeing that it was otherwise unaffected by the blow, he was about to cast Reticent Umbra. A spell that would fortify his speed, potentially for an escape. But then he realized, as before, the Scarecrow seemed menacingly contrite. Almost as if the Scarecrow's actions were unbidden or not autonomous; it's will was enigmatic, it's purpose not exactly apparent. Lenore did little noticeable damage to the effigy. Gritting his teeth, he looked up at his overwhelming opponent.

It was not unheard of, for people to happen upon enchanted equipment; or so David reasoned. From a healthy distance, after his terror subsided, he sat and inspected the scarecrow. Before him was what appears to be a scarecrow standing six meters tall, dressed in tattered robes. The bones and bells around its arms and waist were unsettling. David prayed it's appendages were made of wood, but upon further introspection, noticed aged, twisted and melded bones. He poked the golem with Lenore, at a distance, and noticed how the blade's metal seemed to tarnish. Touching it by hand resulted in the sudden shock of being bitten, like the thing was cursed or blighted. The burning numbness David felt all the way up his arm was all the assurance David required to keep his distance. If it were possible to dispatch such a foe or creature, it was beyond his current reckoning and abilities. Abnormally, he felt distinctly tired, like the scarecrow was a lodestone attracting his energy. Happy, jovial feelings were beyond him, David felt morbid and reclusive, being here alone. Becoming aware of his sanity, as a tangible quality to life, he took the pendant out of his pocket and asserted to no one in particular, "This must be magically enchanted." Feeling his mana being fed into the necklace, like a vacuum at the bottom of a pool. David considered destroying the cursed jewelry, but didn't. He debated fiercely; and with intellect, against his pride. Only really countering his arguments with haste making waste, perhaps it was greed. Maybe it was the despondence of not wanting to return empty handed. It was an unpleasant surprise, nonetheless.

Given that day and night blended together in this sort of place, David had the overwhelming sense to comprehend this devious creatures nature. Curiosities like this were hard to come on a regular daily basis. David had made no weapon that could do equal, impressive as it was, the jangling of it's ornaments and it's devious smile deeply perturbed him. His understanding of weaponry was great, this however was a perplexing puzzle. Obviously an heirloom of a farmer, or perhaps the foul creation of a witch. It's origin was anybody's guess. David turned his head and held the necklace at arms length disdainfully, feeling a knot in his stomach as if he were hungry. Rummaging through his rucksack yielded a round red apple, which he began chewing on. He consulted the almanac that had led him here, and while it did not mention this particular creature, it did suppose the existence of anomalous abnormalities. Potentially, it was within his scope of understanding to study the nature of the Scarecrow. David found he had nothing better to do. 

As with the shadow element; David had practically analyzed, that the effigy of the scarecrow was a distinctly menacing form of golem magic. Probably bound to the necklace to protect it's owner. Golem magic confounded him, but it's elemental origin; David gleaned, to be of a particularly morbid nature. David conducted an essential test, one that was profoundly regarded by many philosophers, and threw an apple at it. He assessed that the fruit had gone rotten at a rapid rate due to exposure. He tried to touch it a second time, and he was now sure by the numb feeling he felt in his arm, that it had a perilously rare form of magic attached to it. Something that would make for an interesting sword, or so at least David thought. He knew of no forge that could smelt such an effigy, David, didn't however need an anvil or even a fire to understand what he needed to make what he needed to. All the while, the golem drew at his mana reserves like an insatiable parasite. It made him feel more than relatively tired, and while, David had considered passing out, he thought better of it. Though David tarried because of his fatigue, he was no closer to really understanding the necklace. He would have to leave The Shadowlands, return to civilization and restore his vitality and mana before returning.

The return journey was difficult, physically taxing and mentally draining, for one such as he it was not a task to undertake lightly. Though beleaguered by his dwindling rations, David was longer encumbered by the weight of the golem pressing against him, like it was going to devour and eat him at any second. The Shadowlands were behind him now, and after having delved so deeply into the area, he felt like he would be able to give an account of his journey. He scribbled notes while he rested his feet, David's legs ached and though he was in the Fringes; he still didn't feel entirely safe. Polishing off the food he had portioned for himself around morning, he scrapped around with the Yul he had when he entered the nearest settlement. Troupers and caravanners helped him by bartering with him for food, taverns and inns offered a place to rest. It was a welcome reprieve from the barren desolation that was beyond the fringe. David drank and ate, passing the time with conversation; trying to fill the void he felt in the shadowlands. He talked about the price of equipment, and how easy farm tools were to fashion. Simplifying the concerns they had when to repair tools versus when to replace them entirely. Knowledgeably he spoke, and patiently they listened, voicing their individual problems. By the time David made it to bed, he didn't mind the prickly straw mattress. The pillow was filled with duck or goose feathers, David didn't know which. But when he closed his eyes, he was asleep within seconds.

He slept well into the night and awoke, surprised to find a fire burning in the hearth and the sound of idle chatter abounding in the tavern adjoining the inn. David was informed this was where he should seek breakfast or dinner, should he desire it. And desire it, he did. What was left was not expensive. It consisted of a couple of cooked potatoes in a mushroom broth, with a few tender marinated lamb chunks on a plate. The vegetables David bartered for were fresh and produced locally, an inexpensive venture that was deemed essential prior finding repose. He gave them to the chef with a handful of coins disguised in a handshake; a meaningful expression was shared between them, and David smiled before returning to his seat. David was writing his dissertation for future explorers while munching on fresh steamed asparagus. He fiddled with his knife in his leisure time, having affording the luxury of a couple of Brussel sprouts, David languished in the thought of spreading salted butter on them. Sipping at his packed dried coffee, he spent the long hours of the evening listening to the rain, accompanied by travelling minstrels and bards. It was not an overly terrible time to be alive.

Morning arose, David yawned. Travelling tinkers and general-store owners, genuinely were interested in the necklace David had in his possession, but were unable to identify it. Curiosity being predominantly the mental illusion befalling David, led him to proffer the necklace to just about anyone that would listen to his claims about it. But he found he was unable to substantiate his claims of having even walked so far as to what was beyond the fringe. Let alone that the necklace was enchanted, or that it summoned a horrific creature. David could not activate the enchantment on the necklace, nor could any one else who had tried. It was as if they were not strong enough, or the item had one charge. Being that it was gold and silver, and had an elegant quality to it, the offers that he received were many. But money was no object to him, and what he had was worth considerably more than the price of it's parts. Through no clever spark of brilliance, he deigned to imagine asking a noble; or a commoner outside of the forsaken region. But imagined his father may also have some idea of it's craftsmanship or purpose. 

David's father listened to the remarkable claims of his son's deeds, patiently and sagaciously offering advice that David readily accepted.. Concerned for his health, his father posed many questions. Questions of the nature of which David expected. He rationalized his actions and answered them with a clear mind. David proffered the necklace, his father inspected it. After a few moments, his father explained to him that recently, a few of these had come into the possession of the black market. They were exceptionally expensive, and only practical for people with more experience than David. He thought of his sword magic, and the idea had crossed his mind more than a few times. Making a sword with this particular element crafted into it. Fixated on the thought, David felt the concept rust over him, slowly but surely turning to brittle what once was an iron fist. His feeling of absolution conflicted not just him, but his Father's doubt wavered one way over the other, regarding the concerning nature of the element. His fixation did not end however, and David stole himself away to study its refinements. 

The secrets of the mysterious amulet were a puzzle that needed solving. David laid the necklace and pendant on his grimoire, hoping something would occur. But nothing was ever as simple as mathematics made it out to be. Strange contradictions often resulted in many variables that could not be accounted for. This was not an equation that could be simply surmised, David resigned. For the better part of the day, he recounted his adventures, and what had led him to discovering the scarecrow. The decaying apple seemed irrelevant, but stuck in his mind for a reason that was currently beyond him. How the sudden rot had sank into the apple; biting as surely into him as it did the fruit, it left an impression on David. David had no doubt the blight was imaginably corrosive in nature. He imagined that radiating numbness of the darkness pervading the Shadowlands, the distinct hunger he discovered in that place. An ominous sensation curled over David's skin. A prickling warmth crept along his arms. He felt as though some grand revelation was dawning on him that would enlighten his concerns and issues. He fanatically pressed his hand to the opened grimoire, as he had once before. The book's cover seemed to flake away, transforming from it's usual sable sheen, to a tattered dark tome that appeared worn. 

David's hand sank into the page. From which, he grasped a handle, and as he slowly retrieved the blade it snapped frailly. He poured his curiosity over the ruined thing. The sheen of a new sword was not apparent, it had a dull shade of rust. Tarnish was evident all over the antique. Shifting to a standing position, David noticed the immense weight of the sword. He rested it on his shoulder for a second, but immediately regretted doing so. The rough edge was almost entirely jagged or eaten by rust, and it's aura was drab and ancient. Ominous and unsettling as it was, David felt the strong force of the necklace influencing him diminish. As if it's desire to teach a lesson had disappeared, it seemed substantially more inanimate than before. David hefted and swung the rusted sword, feeling the prickling sensation of it uneasily turning within his grasp. If this sword had any secret or hidden proclivities, he would have to discover them in another time. As with his shadow sword, his new corroded weapon seemed to be hiding it's true potential. David went to sleep that night feeling a sense of accomplishment, if not, a keen awareness of progression. He awoke feeling refreshed, with the necklace around his neck. Though it was inert, it was oddly fashionable and he felt bad for relinquishing it even for a second. David set his sights on new horizons, with a second unique sword added to his grimoire's inventory. He adjusted to the new found power by looking for work.

Word Count: 3,000