He opened his eyes, and blinks as the world slowly comes into focus. He looked up, and sees the rocky ceiling of the cave, stalactites hanging overhead. Sitting up, he looks around at the inside of the cave. He is in a small cavern, sitting on an ancient table of stone, decorated with symbols whose meaning had been lost to time. Carved into the walls around him are the same symbols. On the wall to his left, what once may have been an elaborate wall painting is now nothing more than a few random smears of color and moss. To his right, there opened a tunnel leading off deeper into the cave. He lowers his legs over the right side of the stone table, his feet touch the smooth, cold stone floor. Clank! His foot comes into contact with a strange, round, metal object. “What the…?”

Looking down, he watches the helmet rolls over, revealing the human skull that still rests within it. The rest of the skeleton lay in a pile of bones and rusting armor on the floor next to his feet. He was startled by this sight of death, and it takes him a minute to relax. The armor reflected a pale blue light off of the polished metal. He saw that everything was illuminated by this strange light. He turned his head, looking behind him to see that the source of this light was in fact his tail, which glowed an electric blue. He was not startled by the glow, nor by the fact that he had a tail at all. “Interesting…” he thought. He tries to stand, slightly off balance, but soon corrects himself. He rises, standing at his full 9’ 6”, his head a few inches below the ceiling. Taking a few steps forward into the darkness, he makes his way into the tunnel. He hears the sounds of his own footsteps on the smooth stone floor reverberate off the walls as he marches onwards, into the unknown…

Suddenly, he stepped out into a much large cavern. It was almost 200 yards wide, and nearly 1,000 yards from where he stood, he could see a pale white light pouring in from the mouth of the cave. Pillars of stone lining each side of the cavern, stretching upwards towards a high ceiling cloaked in darkness. The room is nearly pitch black, with only faint glimmers of light reflecting off of unknown pieces of metal. He increases the brightness of his tail and is greeted by a sight only known of in nightmares…

Around him, decomposed skeletons litter the floor of the cave. Bits of bones, rocks, and metal a spread across the floor, while the remains of long-dead men, women, and children were scattered around the room, some still dressed in armor and clutching their weapons. Scratches, burn marks, and long dried up stains of blood scared the tiled floor. It was a gruesome scene, even after time had eroded away the flesh from the bones. He takes a step back, stunned by this sight. “This is the true power of death…,” he thought. Taking a deep breath, relaxes, and he walks forward into the center of the room…

There sits a the skeleton of a man on a throne, dressed in gold-plated armor, an ornately-decorated broadsword rests in his lap. He sees a large battleaxe with a few chips in the blades leaning on the throne next to the long dead and forgotten king. On the floor next to the throne sits a pile of dark grey armor, tinted slightly blue, possibly from the light of his tail. It is seemingly untouched by time or rust, for it is well polished, and looks brand new. A pair of single-handed, straight, one-edged swords lay on the ground next to the armor, forged from the same metal. They are in scabbards of black leather, one on each side of a belt made of the same leather. The buckle was made of the same dark grey/blue metal that the armor was. He kneels down, his hand wrapped around the belt, and stands back up. With one hand holding the belt, the other reaches for the hilt of one of the swords. His fingers wrap around the hilt with ease, and he pulls the sword from it’s scabbard. Shink! The sword slides out smoothly from it’s scabbard, it’s polished blade reflects the blue light of his tail. He holds it up, and looks at his reflection in the blade…

He stares into his own eyes reflecting back at him. Suddenly, he sees a flash of light, and all external senses are suddenly cut off as his mind goes black. Images flash in and out of his mind in blurs, voices whisper to him in ancient tongues. He feels the heat of a thousand suns sear him, then is drenched in the ice cold waters of the arctic. Excruciating pain blinds, then intense pleasure awakens. The deepest of loss, and the greatest of love. Strength beyond anything, and crippling weakness. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, the tsunami of feeling and emotion passes over him...

He stood there, breathing heavily, leaning against the stone throne. “W-what was that? Did I lose my mind?“ He looks down at the sword still held in his hand. “What has happened to me?” He rises back to his feet, his breath now regained. He stares into the cold, dark metal of the blade. In his mind, he sees himself wielding the sword, the blade just a blur. “I… I know how to fight… but how is this even possible?” He swings the sword lightly, listening to the Woosh of the blade as it cuts through the air with ease. He looks at the sword again. “The flashes… could they be the memories of this blade?” He reaches down, grabbing the hilt of the other sword and removing it from it’s scabbard. He stands, a sword resting lightly in each hand, the tips of the blades pointed at the ground. Tensing up, he strikes a stance, the tips of the blades pointed at the remains of the dead king in his throne. He relaxes, but keeps his stance as he exhales…

In a blur of motion, he spins on his heels, the blades slicing the air with a Woosh! A grin spreads across his face as he charges forward blade-first. He slices and jabs the air before him, his speed increasing with each swing. Soon, he is just a blur of motion as he continues to swing the blades with such complexity and ease known only by legendary swordsmen. He continues to practice for a few more minutes, before he finally stops. Not a drop of sweat can be seen on his body. He relaxes, dropping his stance, letting the blades rest once more at his sides. He walks back to where the scabbards lay, and reinserts the swords back into their scabbards. He reaches down, grabbing the belt off the floor. He wraps it around his waist and buckles it’s dark grey/blue buckle. He is surprised by how well the belt fits him, almost like it was made for him. He felt the weight of the blades on each hip, a weight which feels strangely familiar and comforting…

He looks at the pile of dark grey/blue armor on the floor before him. He pick up a piece of the armor, and looks at it. It is a glove with claw-like fingers, and claws on the knuckles. He slides the piece onto his hand with ease, fitting his unique hands perfectly. He dawns the rest of the armor, it’s polished surface reflecting the light of his tail. He stands, in armor of dark grey/blue tinted metal, shining with the light of his tail. He looks forward, into the hollowed out eyes of the forgotten king. “Thank you, whoever you where…” He stands, and turns to face the mouth of the cave, the pale light reflects off his armor with the light of his tail. He takes a deep breath, and walks forward towards the mouth of the cave. He listens to the clank of his armor, his steps echo throughout the cavern. He stops a few feet from the mouth of the cave, just on the edge of the light that came in from the outside. It is there that he realizes, in the back of his mind, that the armor is naturally tinted slightly blue. He takes a deep breath of fresh air, and steps into the light…