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About Varied / Student Member Ernest Hudson Davis IVMale/United States Recent Activity
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Art. My Art. My Simplistic Art. My Painfully Simplistic Art. My.

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I tend to like a lot of artwork on this site, particular ones that surpass my own. :meow:

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Junie-D
Ernest Hudson Davis IV
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
*Due to some connection issues, I may not be very active on this site. If you wish to contact me for whatever reason, click the links avaliable below.

May 13. Taurus.
High School Junior.
Random-minded Philosopher.
Creative Illustrator. Free-minded Storyteller.
Future Graphic Artist. Possible Game Developer.
Terrible Otaku. Awesome Bossitronian. Abnormal Markiplite.
Normal Masher. Regular Minion.
Indescribable Gamer.
(Bi)curious.

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:bulletgreen: published
:bulletyellow: in development/production
:bulletred: still in planning/being revised

Author of the Arco tale.

Creator of the Electronic Super Joy: Aaron Adventures fanfiction.
Aaron Ro'kin / Bui / Greegor / Pope Ianh Eddzon / Jojo / Kimberri Saphire / Kuzu / Smoker Smith / Wanderer / Wizard

Avatars used: (credits to their respective artists)
Who's Shirt Was That? [Darkiplier] by Demens-Alma
Kawaii Marki by lindaleia
The Groom by Noobito777

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Interests
Remember when I had posted my first Markiplier fanfiction? Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow? Yeah, I finally decided to revise what terrible writing I did to a point where my work should be subtle in mistake. I'll probably post it some time after school if I manage to gain access to the computer.

Also I don't know what I plan on doing with my fanfiction series idea that I had started out with mid-September 2013. I've been too disorientated and idiotic since this year has begun. It hasn't even ended yet, and I can say that this was the worse year. But this is just me being an attention seeker or something talking about it here. I'll understand.

Well, my partner told me not to stay up late, but I've always been stupid in not listening. I'll get in an hour or something before the bus runs down the road. Hope you guys are doing okay.
  • Mood: Unhappy

Activity


The Battle

From a distance, the sun appeared to rest on the horizon of the Great Casa Plains. Chilly autumnal winds began to venture throughout the vast emerald fields, dancing with the few trees that stood yards away from each other. The skies were partially clear: the amber and purple were compromising with each other with the pink of the large clouds.
 
Sir Mark of Collara traveled back to the Casche Capital City with Lady Margaret, where they hope to prepare for the Halloween festival. Upon stepping into his residence, the knight could feel a presence somewhere inside. Venturing around the house, he did not see or hear anything unusual or unnatural.
 
Maj stared at the man rather confused and disgusted. “Sir Knight,” she proceeded to ask, “What are you doing? Are you making advances in frightening an assassin, such as myself? The effort’s pointless.”
 
“No. It’s just… something within this establishment.” Stomping his feet upstairs towards his bedroom, Mark continued, “There has to be somebody else in this house besides you and I, Margaret.”
 
Barging into his own room, the Collarean knight stands in the doorway, eye-to-eye with his doppelganger Sir Darkimus. The shadow, relaxed in the mortal’s bed, says, “Noble knight! You’ve returned! I’ve been meaning to speak with you on an important matter.”
 
Mark released the knob of the door as stared into Darki’s eyes and commanded, “Go on. What must I know at this hour?”
 
Now slightly uneasy with that response, Darki presented himself with a smile when he commented, “Mmm. Doesn’t appear I’ll ever strike fear to your soul anymore, so allow me to stand before ye’.” Lifting out of the bed and walking towards his mortal doppelganger, he continued with what he wanted to tell Mark. “I hope you weren’t planning on heading straight for that Halloween festival at the Casche Capital City. That Narmarn Curse, it will employ a war in a few minutes or less, and you have to be ready for that.” Walking towards the closet, Darki examined Exile—Mark’s knight-sword—and tells him, “Hope you have a better weapon than this old thing. Your opponents won’t be slain with a simple slash from this silver-blade” Then there was a quick glance at the black-blade Izia in its sheath. Returning Exile to the closet and taking two large steps towards his mortal doppelganger, the shadow scanned the mystical sword.
 
“Do thou wish to duel here, now?” Sir Mark gestured, ready to pull Izia from its sheath at Darki.
 
With a look of confusion, Sir Darkimus formally replied, “The duel, no, the war, Sir Mark, art starts outdoors in the Great Casa Plains, for a multitude of minions of the Asheta Army will stand tall and feel resurrect. Hope ye don’t mind.” The shadow shifted into a gaseous fog and migrated behind the knight before reviving to a human form, displaying his weapon of choice for the battle.
 
The voice of Lady Maj was heard downstairs. “Mark! Did you find out what it was? Do you request any assistance?”
 
Before he pulled his lips apart to give her a reply, Darkimus, instead, answered with his mortal doppelganger’s exact, maleficent voice, “No need. I’ve found it. Remain down there and relax, Margaret.”
 
Pulling out Poker from their holsters, Maj snuck towards the stairs, unknowingly telling the shadow, “Watch it, Sir Knight.” While she remained in a corner between the stairs and wall, Maj eavesdropped on the conversation upstairs, careful not to make any noise as she did.
 
Darkimus continued in his devilish tone. “See this sword? It bears the name Kytton, a shadow-blade deep in Hathes, stowed away somewhere in my kingdom Asheta.” Caressing the blade in a way that would leave a mortal bleeding, he wields it close to his head as he went on. “Where? The only places a shadow could remain hidden from the light.” Abruptly pointing the blade at Mark, Darki proclaimed, “You, Sir Mark of Collara, have roughly half an hour to prepare yourself for this very match! Bring forth as many as you can, but we, Knight of the Casche Monarch and Monarch Protector of the Asheta Kingdom, will spar one-on-one.” Placing Kytton in its sheath on his backside, the shadow promptly concludes, “And let this war decide the latter’s fate.” As he shifted from fog to human towards the door, Darkimus, without even directing his attention to the stealthy woman beneath the stairs, gave out a warning. “Make sure your target isn’t me, Lady Margaret Ann Juya. If you become one major distract during your acquaintance’s one-on-one match with me, hope that he spares he’ life. Mercy will not exist.” And the shadow vanished from area.
 
Maj smiled, returning Poker back into their holsters before storming upstairs to check on Sir Knight. “Mark? Everything’s alright?” she queried worryingly, examining his eyes before slapping the knight.
 
Mark yelled in pain, “Ah! Eh, Margaret, I’m fine; I’m all right. There was no need in doing that, ow.”
 
Before retreating outside, the lady gently rubbed where she had hit Mark as she told him, “And if you plan to send me out on a request for the others, no reason to. They’ll come when the time is right. Thee must prepare, Sir Knight!” Then a leap over the railing and a sprint through the door to the outdoors, Maj wielded Poker stylishly.
 
 
Now, with the sun gone and the skies dimming, the winds that tangoed with the branches of the trees yards apart from one another in the Great Casa Plains began to blow strong, leaving the hilly region to feel as if winter was approaching faster than expected. Instead of pink shedding dominance in the sky, blue-violets raided and consumed whatever they could of the natural masterpiece, leaving the thin and silky cirrus clouds intact as they darken from silvery white to a grim gray.
 
Sir Darkimus of Hathes stood stance, arms crossed as he smiled at his opponent Sir Mark of Collara, whom wields the black-blade Izia from farther away. While the dark doppelganger grinned as he predicted the outcome of the battle, the mortal knight didn’t express any emotion on his face, letting the sword in his right hand illuminate a bright purple.
 
Maj kneeled to the grassy ground, wielding Poker ready for the shadow soldiers of Darki’s Asheta Army to be summoned. “The hour is almost here, Sir Knight,” she reported firmly with eyes locked on his shadow doppelganger.
 
Eventually, the wind settled down as Sir Mark raised his sword to his face, exclaiming to Darki, “I stand ready for thee! The hour for war must start now, to see the victor to waltz into the Casche Capital City.”
 
“Let that be so,” Darkimus replied, lifting his dark-blade Kytton from its sheath and presenting it horizontally in his left hand.
 
Maj took careful notice of the mastermind’s weapon; a skinny chain ran from the pommel inside the shadow’s upper-arm. As she stood up from her current position and before a word was said, Darki’s soldiers were summoned into the battlefield, one immediately behind the swift lady who fired two bullets from Poker into its abdomen. “Go, Mark!” Maj shouted as two headshots were made simultaneously. This battle had officially ensued, finally starting.
 
Swiping the black-blade Izia to his side, Sir Mark charged for Sir Darkimus, pressing forward as the sword’s beams slashed the emerging shadows from his path. Once he was at his doppelganger, he lifted the blade, and a loud clash was heard throughout the plains, the sound reaching the capital and hitting Ruok’s ears with familiarity.
 
“So, it has ensue, yes?” the soothsayer said, turning to the direction of the sound’s origin before glancing at his crystal. “Ah, yes. Sir Knight’s at the fight. I shall watch this closely.”
 
On the battlefield, the army surely revealed themselves in a gradually large paste, the numbers increasing from two to four, four to eight, eight to sixteen. The Purple Sprite, Margaret, still managed to wipe them out with the quickest bullets aimed at specific points of their torsos and heads. No arca was wasted, every shot so precise. Soon, the horde surrounded her, leaving the sharpshooter to migrate away to obtain space. Wielding both pistols close to her, Maj tapped the sides of Poker-I and Poker-II as she said, “Alrighty. Thou must be hungry, yes? Thy arca is ready! C’mere!” Once more, the waves expanded.
 
Sir Mark of Collara gave Sir Darkimus of Hathes several clashes between Izia and Kytton, failing at pushing his opponent back or inflicting cuts on the doppelganger’s body. Then he heard a chuckle come from him.
 
“Jester?” Pushing the knight back, Darki added, “The enchanted black-blade of yours, Izia, right? There’s no way it could match this shadow-blade Kytton, yet you’ve managed to get a slight upper hand. I wonder how long that’ll last.” Raising the sword high before leaping towards his opponent, the shadow swiped Kytton in several directions, almost in a hidden octagonal shape. The Collarean knight, being as strategic as he possibly could in this rash situation, adjusted his blade parallel to the swipes, using Izia as his shield against the barrage. Once it was over and Darki leapt back, Mark wields his sword to the side, allowing it to charge a beam of light before sending several waves to his opponent, expecting to score some hits if any. Though swift in evading, one beam snipped the shadow’s left foot. This led to Sir Darki’s retaliation: tossing Kytton towards Mark as the chain extends from the doppelganger’s body.
 
“What the--?” the knight started as he swung Izia upwards to knock the shadow blade away. “That weapon is something else.” Again, Mark charged the sword and sent several waves towards Darki.
 
As the shadow evaded these, he cockily proclaimed, “It’s only been half an hour, and you’ve only managed to land one tiny scratch on my foot! Izia must not be all that powerful as you thought it was, Sir Knight!”
 
“Thee jests!” the knight of Collara exclaimed angrily, tightening his grip on his black-blade as he knocked Kytton downward and climbed on the dark, blood-colored chain. While on it, he made an attempt to divide the chain from the handle and body, which eventually became the knight’s mistake. Darki pulled the chain, and it wrapped around Izia that was, now, stuck in the ground. Avoiding Kytton, the Collarean knight propelled himself from the handle of the black-blade and landed a few feet away from the dark doppelganger. Realizing he was weaponless, Sir Mark of Collara shouted, “Thou art’s defenseless! Yet e’ continues the match!”
 
Darkimus of Hathes laughed, wielding Izia in his right and Kytton in his left. While the newly-acquired black-blade charged, he stated,  “Ye’ must be ignorant. Ye’ lost his sword, ye’ weapon of choice. Why those thou prolong the fight defenseless now? Lady Margaret is busy with my soldiers, and it doesn’t take much time for my minions to devour the assassin, even if she holds them back. Where’re your other members? Thee quit?” Then his attention was drawn to an arrow directed at his heart, which passed through flawlessly, accurately, and precisely. Examining the shape and color, as well as a small black flag near the tip, Sir Mark knew from whom had submitted in assisting him in the warfare.
 
“Excuse my tardiness,” Sir Skael Saxon told Mark as he landed to his right, wielding his bow Kariron-Beta. “Thought you’d need some assistance… and here’s Ureo with your new weapon!” A quick glance, the knight witnessed Sir Ureo Ralph of Abar, swiping away at surrounding shadow soldiers with Ureoka, eliminating all that stood in the blacksmith’s way. It did not take him too long before he stood face to face with the three.
 
Pulling out an elaborately crafted light-blade, Ureo tossed Mark his new sword, stating, “Izia’s a strong black-blade, but it would have eventually fallen apart to that dark-blade. Keeo, the light-blade, should substitute for that.”
 
Catching the sheath and unleashing the sword within, Sir Mark wields the light-blade firm in his right hand as a grin formed on his face.
 
Darkimus, himself, had a smile carved into his face as he pointed Kytton at the men and reminded, “Nice, the team’s all here and ready for the fight. However, Sir Mark of Collara is my opponent; he seeks no assistance except that of holding off the Asheta Army. Skael, Ureo, both of you, join Maj behind me before I display my prowess to thee as well.” Both men looked at the knight, who nodded his head to agree with what was told of them.
 
“I have he to fight. Focus on assisting Lady Margaret against his shadow soldiers!”
 
Switching from Kariron-Beta to Kariron-Alpha—his crossbow—and before joining in the bullet storm, Skael replied, “On it!” Ureo, too, swapped Ureoka for his blade pair Haidan before slashing at nearby soldiers in his move to Maj and Skael.
 
Mark directed his attention back to Darki, pointing Keeo at the shadow as he said, “Ready?”
 
Mimicking his mortal doppelganger, he pointed Kytton at Mark as he replied courageously, “Your move!”
 
Teasing her opponents, Maj swayed away from their knight swords and used the magic of her bullets to paralyze and sloth the soldiers. “I miss playing with my toys,” she jests, shooting arms and legs before aiming for heads and hearts. After a few kicks to soldiers’ heads, the sharpshooter witnessed the blacksmith swinging his swords around, every slash made producing a swiftly thin amount of decaying blue and orange flames. This snapped her back into seriousness, returning to blowing brains out and breaking hearts quickly. Then his voice startled her a bit, the familiar voice of a friend.
 
“Allow me to help you, Lady Margaret,” Sir Skael politely requested, “or shall I recite you as ‘The Purple Sprite.’”
 
To hold back an incoming blush, the lady elbowed him in his abdomen before softly apologizing, “I thought you were one of Darki’s soldiers. Sincere apology. Yes, help me fend them off for Mark!” While Maj fired arca from Poker, Skael fired his alphae—specialized arrows for his crossbow—at surrounding enemies as they motioned closer to the sharpshooter.
 
Sir Ureo Ralph, then, leapt near the two and performed two spins, casting a ring of Fire around his team as he shouted, “P’iran!” A wave of fire was sent in all directions, scotching the shadow soldiers as they fell defeated. “Alrighty then,” the blacksmith said, switching out Haidan for Ureoka. “You should be protected for the next hour now. Remain serious and don’t get cocky in the fighting; if any attack hits you, it will backfire and burn that attacker.”
 
The lady snickered before she replied, “Yes, Sir Ureo. Thank you.”
 
Gripping both of his hands firm and strong on the handle of the silver-blade, the blacksmith, before storming off into the approaching horde, said, “Now, let’s get bloody.”
 
Again, Sir Darkimus threw his sword at Sir Mark, yanking the chain back and around as if Kytton was a playful toy, attempting to knock the knight off-guard and weak. Every single try seemed to fail; Mark managed to move in closer to the dark doppelganger and swipe Keeo no greater than two time before motioning away from his opponent.
 
“Sir Darkimus,” the mortal doppelganger asked loudly, “if you don’t mind me asking this query: why does this fight feel rather bland? What’s with all of those scratches on your armor? It looks as if it may fall apart if I continue any farther!”
 
The shadow turned to the Collarean knight, smiling with his teeth presented evilly. “Don’t fret,” the wielder of Kytton answered, loosening his left hand on the shadow-blade. Tossing the chained sword upwards into the dark sky, Darki performed a strange dance while Mark stood curiously confused on what would happen if it was interrupted or finished. He glanced at the swaying chain and sword above; they began to illuminate a faint red color when Darki evilly chanted, in a hundred demonic voices, “Mor’te, mor’te. Dem et-nu.” A large octagram appeared beneath the shadow’s feet, highlighted a much brighter red than his dancing weapon.
 
The knight of Collara closed his eyes and raised his silver-blade Keeo high as he cited a spell of his own. “Et ma! Keeo!” And the blade illuminated bright, deep pink. Pulling the weapon down to his right side and gripping the handle with both hands, Mark charged towards Darki much faster than he physically could. This left the dancing opponent at a slight disadvantage, for his spell wasn’t finish, though nearly close. Four swift swipes pass the center of the octagram, the mortal man left twenty deep scratches on the shadow’s armor, which disintegrated and turned into dusty, black ash.
 
It vanishes; the octagram disappears while Kytton glows a crimson red. Darki gives a sinfully hysterical laugh, his eyes cry thick red tears. “Hope you’re happy about that, Sir--!” he loudly screamed, obtaining his shadow-blade from the sky and vaporizing into his gaseous cloud state as he migrated to his team’s position in the battlefield. All three seemed very distracted to the horde of shadow soldiers that constantly summoned; though Sir Mark rushed to hold his doppelganger back, he was unable to use the same speed enchantment seconds ago nor was he able to cry out and warn them. He, however, was capable to launch another magical attack through Keeo. With the silver-blade illuminating pink, the Collarean knight left two perpendicular scars in the air that slashed through the horde of shadow soldiers and knocked Darkimus out of his gaseous form; Maj, Skael, and Ureo heard the blast and evaded Mark’s attack in a matter of seconds.
 
Sir Darkimus returned to his human shape, an X cut on his back. Standing from where he had landed, the shadow did not make a move and appeared paralyzed by the attack. While the army surrounded the team in a circular shape, the three regrouped next to the knight of Collara, pondering over what is to come next.
 
Slightly timid, Sir Mark requested hesitantly, “Retreat. The three of you return to your fights with the soldiers and retreat. Darki has something plotted out, and it may involve harm done to the team, something I will not risk the chances of happening.” Making the first move, Maj swiped her left leg underneath the feet of two shadow soldiers, knocking them down and firing individual arca into their heads. Ureo, following after the Purple Sprite, thrusts Ureoka into the chest of one soldier in their Asheta-stationary stance, pulling Haidan from the sheath to finish three more behind with a scything wave of flames. Skael placed five enchanted alphae into Alpha, each with an different spell enchant; pulling the string back and pushing the trigger, the armorsmith tagged five rows on soldiers, all falling from a pain-inducing spell.
 
Taking notice of his surroundings before returning his attention back to his dark doppelganger, Mark saw that there were no more soldiers spawning into the battlefield; Observing Darki, the mortal knight witness the shadow heal his wounds as he turned to make eye contact with one another.
 
Both hands clutched as tightly as he could make them, Sir Mark charged at Sir Darkimus, his sword the pinkest it had been thus far into the fight. Kytton blocked what was potentially a swift, clean slash to the shadow’s head.
 
Another evil chuckle, “Did you really think it would be that simple? Mortals are such gullible creatures. However…” Mark’s team witnessed all hordes of soldiers vanish from the vicinity, leaving them to face Sir Mark and Sir Darki to see what had happened. Then a large repulsive force knocked everyone off their feet, Mark’s silver-blade Keeo yards away from his grasp.
 
The shadow continued, “…some do manage to obtain a vast amount of intelligence and wisdom to reach their intended goals irregardless of their importance.” Standing over the Collarean knight’s body, Sir Darkimus of Hathes raised the luminously red dark-blade, ready to slice whatever it was prepared to strike. “Allow me to cleanse this world of your sin.” And before it had been delivered, a voice stopped him, one that seemed rather familiar to Mark’s ears.
 
“Heave, Darkimus!” the voice called out. Then his identity had been revealed; after a miniature white moon morphed into a man in a dark-colored suit and kneeled over the knight of Collara, Mark knew whom he was face-to-face with. The man was Nevan, the dark wizard that assisted Naaz of the Republic in the theft of the precious book of secrets from the Casche Monarch. In complete shock, the knight’s eyes widened and ears remained opened to what he needed to hear from the one that cursed him.
 
“Mm. It seems that you may have known me from an earlier appearance, but I will state what I feel is required of me.” Pulling a dagger out from his sleeve, the wizard wields it just below Mark’s jaw as he tells, “My name is Nevan. Yes, I assisted my uncle in the stealing of said book of the Casche. Our intentions cannot be revealed simply so nor could they be comprehended so.” Gesturing his servant Sir Darkimus to put down his dark-blade Kytton and to walk back a few steps, Nevan the Wizard put the dagger back in his sleeve and placed magical constrictors on the Collarean knight’s hands before walking to retrieve Keeo, only to be stopped by an enchanted bullet from Poker-II.
 
He glanced at the sharpshooter assassin Maj, who was kneeling to the ground in an attempt to stand once more. For a second, she believed that the shot actually altered the wizard’s entire right arm into stone, but it was a ruse, a spell of trickery when Nevan glared at her with a sinful look on his face, his arm intact.
 
“Silly woman,” he laughed, “such a shot must be beyond my sorcery, a level of wizardry that cannot be easily surpassed by a puny arca-bullet.” In slight frustration, she pointed Poker-I at Darkimus and fired an enchanted bullet. It penetrated his body, passing through his heart and out his spine. An odd occurrence, the shadow had liquefied—changed into a liquid form rather than a gaseous state. While Nevan the Wizard was distracted, Ureo somersaulted forward, towards Keeo and swiped the silver-blade out of the ground before the wizard could pull it out himself. Being as swift as he could, the blacksmith slashed the metallic suit that the dark wizard bears before finishing it off with a powerful kick to the man’s head, knocking him to the ground hard.
 
Mark struggled to loosen and break free from the constrictors, shouting to his team, “Free me, team!”
 
“I’ll be there, don’t fret,” Skael replied as he hurried over to the knight. It was not long before Nevan magically migrated his person to Skael and Mark’s position, punching the armorsmith and knocking him unconscious. As for Sir Mark, the dark wizard brought Darkimus back to his solid human form, but with a small opening in the shadow’s chest from where Maj’s bullet had entered.
 
“Don’t assume that this fight will get any easier, Sir Knight!” Darkimus announced in a thousand voices. Extending his left arm, his dark-blade Kytton emerged chainless and blade, not only sharper, but also longer. A flick of Nevan’s fingers, Mark was freed from the constrictors.
 
Ureo tossed the knight his sword and told him, “Finish it off, Mark. We have no more than two hours left of this fight before the curse takes over.”
 
The Dark Wizard expressed anger on his face as well as in his voice when he stared at the blacksmith Ureo Ralph and shouted, “Shut it! You and your friends need to go now before you, too, face the consequences of my curse.” Then it presented another brightening of a pink color, this time a deeper, more pure pink that represented the rage that the knight was ready to express.
 
That look, Nevan noticed Mark’s facial expression and the glow of Keeo. “And it all falls into play,” he said. “Consider me a sub-creator of the Narmarn Curse. Consider yourself, Sir Mark of Collara, my test subject. At the end of this battle, I will determine whether you are worthy of its removal or if your soul shall be damned to Hathes.” Stretching his right arm high in the air to summon his staff, the Dark Wizard concludes formally, “Do not fail to protect the monarchy in power. They appointed you for a reason. Display all of your potentials for me against your doppelganger, even if it means ending your life as a knight.” And the fight resumed its play.
 
With Nevan, Darki’s Asheta Army, and Mark’s team off the battlefield, the Great Casa Plains became the two men’s arena. Both opponents readied their enchanted swords; then Sir Darkimus had made the first move, one too fast for Sir Mark to keep pace and defend against. To the mortal knight’s luck, however, Keeo blocked the parallel slash waves that came from the sides. It propelled the man back several yards, but the Collarean knight remained standing, wielding his silver-blade in front of him until the shadow appeared before him and proceeded to thrust the handle of the dark-blade into Mark’s chest and below Mark’s jaw. The uppercut, the attack scrapped some blood from the mortal’s mouth and lifted his feet from the ground but was unsuccessful in knocking him unconscious to Darki’s displeasure. Quickly planning out what he needed to do next, Sir Knight wedged Keeo into the ground as he regained his footing, his balance on the grassy ground.
 
Evading one thrust of Darki’s blade, the Collarean knight pulled his sword out of the ground and performs several defensive swings to fend the shadow away a bit. A strategy, then, emerged into Mark’s head, one he believes could come in his favor. Placing the handle of Keeo into his left hand, he manages to sprint pass Darki’s wielding hand, the shadow’s left side, and position himself no more than inches from the rear, the point of Keeo in the doppelganger’s spine. It had appeared that Sir Darkimus was mentally swift as well; once he felt Keeo touch his backside—specifically his spine, the dark doppelganger went to his gaseous form and migrated to Sir Knight’s arms, using this chance to take control of them and release the silver-blade from Mark’s hand.
 
Fighting the shadow’s possession, the knight of Collara could feel the overwhelming pain from maintain command of his body. It boiled the blood that flowed inside; his arms had a sensation similar to fire on skin as the mortal made attempts to ply the shadow off him. This became a slight time waster until Keeo fell from Mark’s hand and Darki returned to his human state, advancing to claim the enchanted silver-blade as his own.
 
The shadow felt a stinging feeling when he touched the handle of Keeo; upon gripping it his tightest, Darkimus’s hand became numb. Glancing at the dark doppelganger’s body, Sir Mark noticed that the shadow’s arm went pale in specific areas, at what appeared to be a display of common veins likewise of a human. Though weaponless, the Collarean knight kicked the silver-blade upwards, knocking Keeo out of the shadow’s now weakened hand. In retaliation, Darki used his good hand wielding Kytton and swiped at the knight. It was miss; even though the dark-blade was the perfect length to leave a scratch on the knight’s armor Amethya, a backward somersault prevented the sword from ever making contact with it. While the dark doppelganger used whatever strength left in him to regain some balance, Sir Mark took this chance to knock Kytton out of his opponent’s wielding hand before Keeo returned to the ground. There went a kick to the board side of the sword, and Kytton was freed from Sir Darkimus’s grasp. Lifting himself into the air, the knight of Collara stretched his right arm to the handle of the silver-blade, pulls the sword down using both hands and, with one final and vengeful pink illumination, performed a powerful downward slash on the shadow’s head.
 
At first, it just appeared as if Keeo never even touched Darki when the shadow presented a creepy smile that was not there before the attack. Then, unexpectedly, the shadow exploded into his gaseous form, a loud maniacal laugh echoing throughout the Great Casa Plains. Sir Knight closed his eyes tightly as the overwhelming dark gray fog surrounded him. Once it was all over, Mark looked around the arena; he noticed that the dark-blade Kytton still lays untouched on the ground as if Darkimus left it. When the mortal approached the enchanted weapon, the sight of the blade glowing red had him stop in his tracks and ponder what was going to happen next. “Did I… defeat him?”
 
An octagram appeared beneath Kytton, one similar to what the shadow Sir Darkimus of Hathes had under his feet when a spell was used during an earlier part of the battle. The dark-blade, then, rose from the ground, glistening overall red before a red silhouette appears before the blade, wielding it in its right hand upside-down. When the octagram vanished and the light dimmed, it was revealed that the man wielding Kytton now was Nevan the Dark Wizard. This left Mark off-guard, long enough for the summoned wizard to pull out his staff and knock the Collarean knight onto his rear.
 
Using the dark-blade to separate the orb on the staff and holding it in his left hand, Nevan exclaims angrily, “I honestly hope thee didn’t believe HE will end it all here like that! Thee must be ignorant!” Tossing the orb into the air and shattering the pieces with Kytton, the wizard released a purple vapor that quickly surrounded the mortal men. It did not take the knight much time to acknowledge that he was stuck with breathing the gas in as he attempts recollecting whatever energy and strength left to stand and face Nevan again. But something familiar was in the air that hit Mark’s nose at the right spot. He tried to cough, but it was no use. Too much of the vapor had already entered his lungs.
 
The Dark Wizard took notice of the Collarean knight gradually drifting into unconsciousness, laughing evilly and loudly as he readied the dark-blade Kytton to finish the mortal once and for all. “Let this be the proper way for a nobleman, such as yourself, Sir Knight, meet his ultimate demise and fall to shame,” Nevan softly proclaimed, right wielding arm stretched to the highest. Within a second or two, Lady Margaret rushes to Mark’s aid, firing two bullets at the dark-blade in hand, both striking but failing to do anything to the man. Rather than have it fall from his fingers, the wizard had the sword levitate above his head while he let his right hand constrict the muscles in the woman’s body, crippling her until she laid unable to stand, walk, or talk.
 
In complete panic and worry, Sir Skael pulled out Kariron-Alpha and fired five enchanted arrows at Nevan without hesitation or heeding Ureo’s warning, “Don’t fire!” The Dark Wizard, now growing annoyed and using his free, left hand, deflected the attack and constricts the muscles in the armorsmith-archer’s body, though they were a great distance away from one another. Sir Ureo witnessed both teammates fall cripple by the magic of the wizard, taking notice that Nevan had to present both hands in order to do so. A thought later, he pulls the blade pair Haidan and charged, building up enough power within the swords to produce flames readied for attack.
 
A peek over his shoulder and his eyes filled with burning anger and agitation, Nevan the Wizard spawned a third arm from his back, stretching it out before presenting the palm to the attacker and constricting his muscles, halting what was to come. “I’ve had enough of these predictably pointless distractions!” the wizard shouted. “You three will witness the demise of this one whether you like it or not!” Using telekinesis on Kytton, the man stood over Sir Mark of Collara, telling him, “To punish you for murdering Uncle Naaz of the Republic, it seems fair that I remove you from this world. Sir Knight, nobleman of the Casche Monarch, I damn thee to Hathes and banish your forfeit soul to Obsidia.” Giving the knight a farewell wink, the Dark Wizard raised the dark-blade high and threw it downwards.
 
Sir Mark closed his eyes to the fading consciousness; he did not feel Kytton touch him, though. The Collarean knight’s team was released from their magical confinements and glanced at Nevan.
 
There stood what appeared to be the Grim Reaper behind the Dark Wizard, wielding his scythe parallel to his arm. On the blade was blood, large amount of blood from the man that stands before Death. With a deep voice, he told Nevan, “It appears that thou must go first.” And the wizard collapses to the grass, staining areas of green with the red of blood. While the three members lift themselves off the ground and recollecting energy, they watch the Grim Reaper carry unconscious Mark, turn to face them and listen his request.
 
“The battle is over now; ye’ may return to the Casche Capital City and enjoy the Halloween festival. Your friend here will meet thee as well at the capital once I remove what has left him to slumber.” And he vanished from the vicinity.
 
 
Now, the team walked the crowded streets of the Casche Capital City, easing and relaxing from the events that had occurred an hour ago. All around them, they noticed a lot of festivities were set out throughout the corners, the place decorated with fancy banners, pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns. Neither of the three could wipe their smiles off whenever they witnessed children in costumes run down the sidewalks for candy.
 
However, Sir Skael’s mind did not stray away from questioning where the Grim Reaper had disappeared to and where he took Sir Mark. So the question was asked, “Are any of you curious on where Death must have gone with Sir Knight? Though this festival’s bright and dazzling with the children and games and the like, I cannot seem to break loose of the thoughts on what Sir Reaper is really on about.”
 
Lady Maj yanked the armorsmith’s left arm, subtly blushing as she gave him a reply. “Don’t worry about that now, Skael. Sir Knight will be here shortly. That’s an honest promise.” Grabbing the blacksmith’s left arm and pulling both men forward, towards the Casche Monarch’s palace, the woman, with a cheerful tone, shouted, “Come along, men! We have a party to attend to at the palace!” Bypassing the servants that protected the entrance to the royal palace, Maj lets go of Ureo’s arm but tightly hugs against Skael’s, rubbing her head against his upper arm as she requested in whisper, “May we dance to the music?”
 
He give an indirect response; once the man reached the middle of the room, Skael firmly grasped Lady Margaret’s hand and performed a dance with her, keeping his heart opened to what could happen next. The blacksmith Ureo Ralph grinned as he witnessed the two sway around as if a beautiful couple performing a form of courtship. Then he scanned the room in hopes to find the Collarean knight and the soothsayer Ruok. His eyes were locked on them standing next to the array of snacks on an orange table.
 
As he approached, the blacksmith greeted the men. “Hey, guys.” Giving Mark a hug, he added, “Welcome back, Sir Collarean Knight. Skael Saxon worried over your absence after Death took you away from us. Feeling any better?”
 
“Yeah,” the knight answered with a sigh, “I’m getting there. And it appears that my soul is freed from the Narmarn Curse as well.”
 
After hearing those words from Sir Mark, Ruok the Soothsayer giggled a bit as a smile grew over his face. “Don’t either one of you want to have a little fun while you still can inside the palace?” he queried as he pulled out his crystal orb. “Rarely has Prince Te’on or King Mantra allowed anyone at all enter or party within the walls of the throne, ever since the theft incident.”
 
“Right.” Ureo picked up a pink cupcake and walked away from the table while Mark loosen his muscles before joining some of the dancers on the floor. As for the soothsayer Ruok of Collara, he and his third eye stared into Medaa and watched the fight between Sir Mark of Collara and Sir Darkimus of Hathes, finding amusement of all that happened only hours before the team’s arrival into the capital.
 
And the favorite moment of the duel was the appearance of the Grim Reaper. “You’re welcome, Sir Knight.”
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. (5)
Markiplier Chronicles
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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

My first Markiplier fanfiction as well as the first book in my fanfictional series. | After a mysterious cursing, Mark sets out for answers, assembling a small team of friends as he readies for a battle with his dark doppelganger from Hathes. It is until midnight that his fate will be sealed. | The Battle With an unexpected taunt by his opponent, Mark hurries himself for the oncoming war. Wielding a black-blade instead of the craft from Ureo, the mortal Collarean knight and his assisting sharpshooter Maj stand ready for the official fight against Sir Darkimus and his shadow soldiers in the Great Casa Plains. Soon, the rest of the team and the promised weapon arrive on the battlefield. What is to come of the great fight for freedom?

Characters:
  • Majors:
    • Sir Mark of Collara - The main character. Mark lives in the small town of Collara, located in the Great Casca Plains. A respected man and knight under the former king of Old Casche Monarch. Lives single and alone in a small residence. Some time in mid-October (Ides of October), someone placed him under a curse, one where a desired dream turns into a nightmare that can be fatal. Now, he seeks for answers.
      • Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach (markiplierGAME)
      • Exile knight sword - Sir Mark's knight blade. Given to him by his master. Used when under the orders of King Manta of the Casche Monarch.
      • Izia blacksmith's artisan craft - Black-blade crafted by Ureo Ralph. Enchanted with untamable dark magic with its own restriction the sheath that comes along with it. Sir Mark's protection blade.
      • Keeo blacksmith's artisan craft - Sir Mark's enchanted blade equal to his rival Darkimus. Crafted by the blacksmith Ureo Ralph of Abar.
    • Ruok the Soothsayer - The soothsayer from the town of Collara. An apparent friend of Sir Mark of Collara. A dependent individual to the townspeople in using his ability to foresee events and recall past experiences to solve conplications in their lives.
      • Thomas Fischbach
    • Sir Ureo Ralph of Abar - An expert in sorcery and mythical resolution as well as one of the town's top blacksmiths. He resides in the city of Abar, two miles away from Collara. Ureo has a servant that assists him in the workshop as well as a knight to serve both Sir Ralph and the religious aristocrats in the city. Has crafted over 600 swords, whether it's for display, for fighting and self-defense, or personal amusement and usage by himself.
      • Ralph "Raedwulf" (RaedwulfGamer)
      • Haidan blacksmith's artisan craft - Silver-blade crafted by Ureo Ralph. Two pirate-like swords that produce enchanted slashes/secondary weapon(s).
      • Ureoka blacksmith's artisan craft - Silver-blade crafted by Ureo Ralph. A single blade crafter specifically for his own use/primary weapon.
    • Lady Margaret Ann Juya - A secretive lady working as an assassin under the orders of persons unknown. Wields two sharpshooting pistols as her weapon of choice. One of the most superior mystic-bullet magicians known in the continent. Commonly referred to as Maj, Margaret's birthplace and current residence are unknown. The public have called her "the Purple Sprite," likely because not many are able to interact with Maj whenever out on her tasks.
      • Michelle "MinX" (TheRPGMinx)
      • Poker (both I and II) dual-pistols - Dual-pistols that carry mystical bullets known as arca. Each one are able to cast specific types of spells. These spells, however, are limited to those one can naturally possess and perform.
    • Sir Skael Saxon, Jr. - A retired knight born in a wealthy family that resides in the city of Abar. An expert in sorcery and mythical resoultion (same as Ureo) as well as one of the town's armorsmiths.
      • Aaron "Yamimash" Ash (yamimash)
      • Kariron (both Alpha and Beta) archery - Sir Skael's weapons of choice. Alpha is the crossbow; Beta is the classical bow.
    • Sir Darkimus of Hathes - Mark's darker parallel from Hathes. Summoned by the dark wizard and was released through the knight's shadow at night. He warns his mortal parallel of the permanent bearing of the Narmarn Curse as well as taking over the monarch that the knight serves.
      • Kytton dark legacy - Darkimus's enchanted blade equal to his rival Sir Mark. Passed down to him by a superior force in the depths of Hathes.
    • Nevan the Dark Wizard - The major antagonist. A shady figure of unknown origin. Assisting Sir Darkimus to the Casche Monarch's throne, he plots a war against Sir Mark of Collara in retaliation for the death of his uncle, Naaz of the Republic, who stole the precious book of secrets.
      • Sphinx unknown
  • Minors:
    • The Grim Reaper - The famously known spirit that takes mortal souls to their destined afterlifes.
      • Soulex dark legacy - The Grim Reaper's scythe.
Places:
  • Cities:
    • Collara - Sir Mark's residence. A small town located in the Great Casca Plains. Established by a group of elders and used to be territory to the Casche Monarch. Population: 200.
    • Abar - An enchanted city only two miles from Sir Mark's residence. Built adjacent to the Moise Bridge. Largely populated and almost crowded. Established by religious priests and served as their capital for the religion (the Holy City of their religion). After a civil war, these priests moved elsewhere. Population: 30,256.
    • Asheta - The kingdom that is ruled by Sir Mark's doppelganger. In the depths of Hathes lies a foretold monarchy filled with shadows known as Ashitians. Many serve in their militia under the authority and commands of Sir Darkimus of Hathes.
    • Casche Capital City - The location of the Casche Monarch's throne. This year, the monarchs hold a Halloween festival that happens to be hours before the start of an important war that will determine Sir Mark of Collara's fate.
  • Scenes/Territories:
    • The Great Casa Plains - A large and hilly region that separates the cities of Abar and Collara by (approximately) two miles. All green with few very sparse trees. There are areas near Collara that serve as extraordinary farmlands. During the evening of Halloween, the plains become a battlefield for the great duel between Sir Mark and friends and the Asheta Army. 

Other Notes:
  • The opening of this part describes the scene of the Great Casa Plains before the war that will ensue later on.
  • Amethya, the freshly-crafted armor for Sir Mark, grants the bearer the ability to sense supernatural entities.
  • Amethya, also, gives the bearer of the armor an enhanced feeling of heroism.
  • Strangely enough, Maj knows Sir Mark pretty well. Upon hearing his answer to her question, she knew it wasn't Sir Knight.
  • Minutes before the battle starts, the story, once more, talks about the scene of the Great Casa Plains.
  • Not only did Mark's announcement, but also Maj's observation marked that the battle had to start.
  • The entrance of Sir Skael and Sir Ureo were very similar to how it was depicted in Ruok's crystal ball earlier that day.
  • The word sloth was used to mean (simply put) to slow down.
  • Ureo casted the spell, its name derived from an ancient [fictitious] language meaning "sphere" or "crescent." While there are variations ofIran (base spell), this one creates a ring of Fire, P'iran.
  • This chant of Darkimus is part of a disturbing ritual in an ancient [fictitious] language. Roughly translated, Mor'te means (My) reaper is after (m)e while Dem et-nu means I shall (assist and) end us all.
  • This chant of Darkimus is part of a disturbing ritual in an ancient [fictitious] language. Naturally, the one that performs it sacrifices his or her own life; upon finishing the dance, Darki, not only remained in the mortal realm whole and alive, but also amplified his overall strength for a few minutes.
  • Mark, in thought, cited a spell of his own, the words derived from an ancient [fictitious] language; et ma is defined as I summon thee power (to).
  • It is a possibility that Maj's arca bullets could easily defeat the shadow doppelganger. Evidence of this is when an enchanted bullet passed through his heart and spine, liquefying him. Another sign is when Nevan the Wizard revived Darkimus back to his human form with a gap in his torso.
  • The blacksmith Ureo Ralph made sure to place a charm on Sir Mark's silver-blade Keeo. If a supernatural force was to obtain the mortal knight's sword, their defense, strength, and physical form in the realm of mortality would weaken until their existence is wiped out.
  • Strangely enough, Sir Darkimus of Hathes was almost defeated; though he took a powerful slash through his center (where the bullet hole was located), the explosion into his gaseous form allowed him to take over other living things before returning to the supernatural realm.
  • Skael, now, sees what Mark mentioned to him before about Maj lusting for him once the team entered the Casche Monarch palace.
  • The Grim Repear that appeared and ended the battle between Mark and Nevan disappears but doesn't disappear.
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. Copyright (c) 2013-2014 Junie-D.
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The Preparations

Walking downstairs, Sir Mark of Collara hears a knock at his door. Opening the door revealed Ruok the soothsayer, dressed as if the Grim Reaper while wielding his crystal orb. For a second, this had startled the fatigued man. “Soothsayer!” Mark shouted, starting to slightly hyperventilate from the scare. “Why? Why did one just play tricks so early?”
 
“Trick?” Ruok queried as he grins at his tiresome friend. “What’s with the assumption of trickery, my good sir? The day of Halloween is upon us, is it not? His spirit is my incarnation for the hours ahead.”
 
Taking a step outside, Sir Mark’s mood gradually lightened up, allowing the fresh morning air to rush into his lungs and regenerate enough energy to finally wake. With a refined voice, the awakened knight says, “Now, to try that again. Morning, Ruok! What brings you to my door?”
 
The soothsayer holds his crystal orb high, letting the rising sun reveal the tales that are sealed within the sphere. Squinting his eyes, the knight could see all that would come later that day:
 
Here in the plains stood his opponent Darkimus of Hathes, wielding his enchanted dark-blade Kytton in his left hand. Sir Mark of Collara observed him well from farther away, standing tall with the refine light-blade Keeo in his right hand held over his shoulder. They both presented themselves with sinister smiles as they readied their swords to attack. Before either one started to sprint towards each other, the doppelganger summons his army of shadow minions into the battlefield. Slightly dazed, the knight kept his eyes on the leader’s position as the soldiers began to block his line of vision. Once all were there, Darkimus disappeared from the vicinity, placing Sir Mark in a state of paranoia, slowly stepping back as he scanned the fields. A quick turn to his backside and Keeo clashed with Kytton, Darki pressing with great force in his attempt to knock Mark to the ground. It fails, giving the Collarean knight a small advantage over the shadow… until the dark army got their hands on the mortal. For those few seconds, Darkimus believed he was the victor, but he was abruptly wronged, taking two arrows fired by Sir Skael Saxon into his spine. Approaching the fields, Sir Ureo Ralph could be seen leaping around in the horde of the shadow soldiers, swinging Haidan around as he did so, while Lady Margaret dashed through the crowd, firing arca from Poker at heads and hearts with perfect precision. It happened to appear that the team of mortal heroes to was winning the fight.
 
Ruok lowers the orb and tells Sir Mark, “I hope to see you at the Halloween festival at the capital city. Surely will be a good day to play.” Mark went back inside to dress himself, while the soothsayer disappears from the vicinity, rippling away as if walking into water.
 
 
The knight of Collara stood in front of the Abarian blacksmith’s door, pre-attired for the event at the Casche Capital City. He had requested to train with Pynru, using the black-blade Izia in the hopes of practicing control of the untamable dark magic encased within the blade and constricted by its sheath.
 
As the servant, the Abarian knight, stepped outside, he was told by Ureo, “Make sure to stray from the slashes from Izia.” Sir Mark caught that demand and turned to Pynru.
 
“Yes,” the Abarian knight stated, “Izia is a rather deadly blade. I’ve been given my orders; now, we will train. Follow me, for I am the guide to our practice field.” Pynru took the Collarean knight on a walk down a narrow dirt road near the Moise Bridge that led to a dense forest. Scanning the place, Mark could see that this may serve as their training grounds but asked for clarity. “This is the place, Pynru? Our training area?”
 
“It appears so, Sir Knight,” he replied with content, turning to face the other man with his silver-blade Dai wielded high to this face. The Collarean knight pulled Izia out of its sheath and witnessed the black-blade glow a vivid purple. At first, both were astonished by the illuminating sword but were quickly jolted back to training when Mark twisted Izia in his right hand. A beam of light was accidentally emitted from the slight swings, these beams strong enough to rip bark off of the trees that surrounded the wielder.
 
Pynru studied this blade as he announced, “Sir Knight, I request that you be wary of both your surroundings and your opponent as well as yourself when wielding that dark, magical black-blade. Thou must duel now!?”
 
Moving his wrist slowly, Mark readied his sword for the match, careful not to make a lot of motion to emit beams. Gripping the handle tightly, the noble knight proclaimed, “Thee may start this match!”
 
“Very well.” Pynru positioned his sword to his side and rushed towards Mark, faking two swift slacks before clashing with Mark. The Collarean tried to hold his hand firm and strong against Dai. Exerting as much strength as he could to fend the Abarian off, Sir Mark regained enough balance to push his opponent away before holding his breath and created two slashing waves. Dai became Pynru’s shield against these waves; he twisted the silver-blade parallel to the beams, obtaining and neutralizing the dark magic from Izia.
 
“Mmm,” the Abarian knight said as a smile grew on his face, “You’re becoming rather wise with Izia already. And it looks like Dai neutralizes those beams. This shall be a worthy battle of interest, now, wouldn’t it?” A quick leap forward towards the Collarean again, and Mark nearly couldn’t escape the blade, making a last minute somersault to his right. Standing tall once again, he held the black-blade in both hands and charged for Pynru. The sword began to glow a darker purple than before, something that almost left Mark’s opponent off-guard. Though Pynru used his own sword to guard the next few slashes, Dai wasn’t able to catch all of the beams that erupted as the black-blade Izia clashed with the silver-blade.
 
Making eye contact with the Abarian knight, Sir Mark jests cockily, “Abarian losing a little strength it appears? Ye’ must stand tall, sir!” Two seconds, the knight of Collara witnessed a change to Pynru; his eyes altered from their natural brown to a sinister red, the skin around them shifting dark gray.
 
Hearing the man speak, Mark knew what was happening. With a much deeper, darker variation of his opponent’s voice, the Abarian playfully replied, “Guess my strength has weakened to your presence, Sir Knight.”
 
Sir Mark pulled himself away and took a few steps back, staring at Pynru while pondering what had occurred.
 
“You okay?” the wielder of Dai queried worriedly.
 
“Darkimus?” he replied with confusion written on his face. “What do you want?” A blink of his brown eyes, the knight of Collara returns to reality. Pynru’s natural eyes had taken back their righteous place in Mark’s vision while the Abarian’s voice assaulted Mark’s eardrums with familiarity, something that kept him calm.
 
“The Narmarn Curse is acting up again, isn’t it?”
 
“Yeah.” Returning Izia to its sheath, Sir Mark plopped to the ground, breathing heavily as he attempts to recollect his sense of touch with reality once more.
 
“Enough practice for today?” the Abarian knight asked. “Aside from the curse interrupting our practice duel, I believe you’ve received a great handle of Izia. Never really witness a swordsman master that black-blade.”
 
Taking Pynru’s hand to pull himself from the ground, Mark displayed an abrupt attitude, giving a rather strict reply, “Enough for today, yes.” This time, the Collarean knight took lead back to Abar.
 
 
Sir Ureo Ralph of Abar had been resting inside his workplace, reading several books on various spells and enchantments for specific blades. Sitting next to the cabinets at his workspace, he skimmed through two books while sketching out blueprints to Sir Mark’s soon-to-be weapon, setting out some metals and supersteels to be used once the blacksmith had a clear thought of what he desired. As he starts to read a particular spell, Ureo was interrupted by a knock at the door, alerting him to check whom stood on the other side.
 
Opening the door revealed Sir Mark and Pynru waiting for access to the workplace. “Gents,” the blacksmith said, “you may enter my domain. Right this way.” He gestured that both could proceed inside, with Mark sitting at the workbench and Pynru venturing through the backroom. Returning to his books and sketch, Ureo questioned, “How’s Izia doing for ya, Mark? The black-blade wasn’t too much for you, was it?”
 
“When I wielded it,” the knight of Collara started, “the blade illuminated and emitted beams of light, the dark magic. Though I attempted to avoid injuring myself and Pynru, it seems that I’ve mastered the beams, using that prowess to my advantage.”
 
“Mm. Excellent. Can I ask about the status of the Narmarn Curse as well?”
 
There was a three second pause before the man had given the blacksmith a response. “A doppelganger is running loose in the mortal world, Ureo. He told me that only one of us, either him or me, would rule a monarchy, while the latter remained in the lower depths. Today must be the day that I must be cured of this curse.”
 
Ureo sat with faint confusion of what it could have meant until it came to him. “Halloween,” he said, “correct?”
 
Mark nodded. Pynru stepped back into the room, giving the blacksmith what appeared to be a book on special gems.
 
“Oh, that’s right,” Ureo realized as he took and skimmed through the book. “The Narmarn Curse’s strange, especially for this month. If the cursed last this long without release, the bearer may remain imprisoned within a nightmare that never ends. Halloween’s today; therefore, this nightmare may intrude your mind quicker than normally.”
 
Making an attempt to avoid potential paranoia, Sir Mark of Collara queried, “What’s in that book Pynru handed you? Will it assist in crafting a promised blade just for me?”
 
“Actually, yes,” Ureo replied hesitantly. “While I sketch what I want the sword’s appearance to be, there’s a particular jewel that I desire. However, being that I possess the reputation of the fastest craftsman in Abar, you have nothing to fear. Before day’s end, you shall wield something that looks like so.” As he presented his blueprint sketch to the Collarean knight, the blacksmith continued, “Thou shall be named Keeo. Does thee like?”
 
“That’s astonishing! I can feel the craving temptation to wield such a sword of magnificence!” Hearing a knock at the door, Pynru walked over to answer it. Lady Margaret stood there in the doorway, wearing the suit Berri that she received from the armorsmith the previous afternoon. The servant could not keep his eyes away from the assassin in the illuminating violet suit, but a choice had been selected when his eyes saw Poker in their holsters.
 
With a bright smile present on her face and voice cheery, Maj greeted, “Hello, gentlemen. Sir Ureo, Sir Pynru, Sir Mark.” After hearing his name, the Collarean knight pulled his rear from the seat and glanced at the Purple Sprite, curious on what could have happened to her to exile happiness in her voice as she spoke.
 
“Afternoon, Lady Juya,” Ureo greeted, stroking his pencil across the paper, sketching more details and ideas to his illustration. The Abarian knight waved shyly, still distracted with the woman’s figure.
 
Mark asked curiously, “Are you alright, Maj? Today’s Halloween.”
 
“I’m doing swell, Mark,” she answered with a subtly joyous attitude. “And Halloween, thee said? Art already excited about the festival celebration in the Capital City of the Casche Monarch.” Maj gestures to the knight of Collara to come closer, which Sir Mark did, and she whispers in his left ear, “Come with me to Skael’s workshop.” Though her voice sounded gentle and angelic in his ear, Mark still felt a slight shiver travel down his spine from utter confusion rather than oblivious fear.
 
As he took steps to follow her, the Collarean knight turned to the blacksmith and servant to give his farewells. “I have to go give Sir Skael Saxon a visit. Hope to see you two at the Halloween festival at the Casche Capital City! Fare thee well.”
 
Immediately after closing the door to the blacksmith’s workplace, Mark felt Maj’s arm grip and tug him angrily as she migrated northward. “Get your feet moving, Mark!” she said in irritation. “We don’t have all day, y’know.”
 
“Slow down, Margaret,” he chuckled a bit. “No need to rush this. We’ll be there, no need to drag.” The Collarean knight could hear her giggle faintly, but Mark did not dare himself to ask why she did so. Reaching the doors to the armorsmith’s workshop, Maj twists the unlock door open and struts inside with Berri altering to the shape of her hips.
 
Sir Mark and Sir Skael only stared at the woman, studying her swaying before she stopped in the middle of the room and greeted happily, “Hi, Skael.”
 
“Afternoon, Margaret,” he answered. “I see you’re enjoying the suit I gave you, aren’t cha?”
 
Blushing slightly, Maj told the armorsmith, “Well, it truly does fit me perfectly. It shall serve as my dress attire for the Halloween festival this evening.”
 
“Happy to assist.” Glancing over to Mark, Skael gestured him to follow into the backroom as he said, “Mind you step into the backroom? I have a gift for the Collarean knight.” Sir Mark trailed his friend as instructed of him, with Maj following behind out of curiosity. The armorsmith, with an amethyst key in hand, unlocked a large coffin-like chest that stored the knight’s gift. Holding it in his hands, Skael told Mark, “Happy Halloween! Presenting you with my latest craft, Amethya.”
 
A bright smile was carved into the knight’s face, his voice elated with amusing joy as he exclaimed, “Magnificent! I love it!” As he walked over to take the new armor from the armorsmith’s hands, the lady subtly giggled. The armor was an excellent fit. “Maj?” the Collarean knight questioned. “What amuses thee? Why does she giggle?”
 
Walking to Mark’s left side, Maj points at the side of his shoulder and jokingly tells, “I made a request for the armorsmith Sir Skael to implement a heart-shaped stone of Ronn. Though I never told you this, Sir Mark, but you are one heck of a hero. While this was meant to be a jest, let it be a symbol of what a knight truly is.”
 
Sir Mark of Collara smiled at Maj before he told Sir Skael, “Thank you, Armorsmith. Not only for crafting this magnificent armor, but for also implementing Maj’s idea.”
 
The armorsmith nodded, saying, “Well, I thought it would be an excellent implement for the armor, especially since that heart casts all the important enchants and enhancements to the bearer of the plates.”
 
Putting Amethya on, the knight felt the magic surge throughout his body, merely attaching to his soul. “Now,” Mark said, “This will be my attire for the remainder of this day. Pardon my hasty retreat; I must go. Margaret and I need to pay the priest a quick visit before we depart for the Halloween festival in the Casche Capital City.”
 
With a grin on his face, the armorsmith replied, “Okay, guess I’ll meet you guys at that festival then.”
 
Maj blushed a bit as she said, “Uh, yep.” Tugging the Collarean knight’s arm, she hurried to the door of the workshop. Mark followed the lady outside as they headed to the cathedral to see the priest.
 
 
In the Great Casa Plains, the man in dark robes stands in the shadow of a large tree, where he summons Sir Darkimus. Once the shadowy doppelganger is fully raised to the mortal realm, the shady figure states, “In two hours, our war will commence. And five hours into the battle, you shall take the place of Prince Te’on of the Casche Monarch. Everything beyond that point will be my doing.” Darki nodded. The man added, “As the Narmarn Curse progresses for the remaining twelve hours, your opponent, Sir Mark, will grow weaker and weaker to the effects. In order for our plans to work, you must defeat him. Assuming that he will not fight alone, make sure your army’s strong. Don’t underestimate those that oppose you!”
 
“Yes, Lord Nevan.” Darki turns away from the dark wizard and slowly walked towards Collara but was immediately halted by one final request from Nevan.
 
“Be sure to obtain Kytton from Asheta. If the legends are true, that blade’s abilities and powers should definitely give us an advantage.” The doppelganger heeds the request as he descends the hill to the small town and transforming into a group of black crows flying overhead. Nevan the Dark Wizard sits underneath the looming branches of the isolated tree. A hysterical laughter echoed through the desolate green plains. Then the voice of the sinister man was heard as he spoke to himself. “It’s not even about the crown; who rules Casche Monarch doesn’t concern me at all. However, I’d hate to strut in a kingdom under the reign of that nobleman. Sir Darkimus of Hathes, on the other hand, feels much more suited, and having him on my side has proven that already.” Pulling his staff from his robes and with a slightly deeper voice, he continued, “My uncle stole that book for a much greater purpose. I mean, what kind of secrets could the Casche Monarch be hiding? A strategy in creating and controlling a strong and elegant kingdom in these barren lands? Or maybe a war tactic… Oh, I got it! A written tablet of famously hidden Majesty’s Sorcery.”
 
Using his own staff as support in pulling his body from the ground, Nevan started to end his aloud thinking. “Whatever’s in that damned book, it surely wasn’t worth slaying Uncle Naaz.” Wielding his staff as it began to illuminate purple, the dark wizard Nevan disintegrated into shards of burning paper, the wind blowing him to the small of Collara as his physical existence vanished.
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. (4)
Markiplier Chronicles
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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

My first Markiplier fanfiction as well as the first book in my fanfictional series. | After a mysterious cursing, Mark sets out for answers, assembling a small team of friends as he readies for a battle with his dark doppelganger from Hathes. It is until midnight that his fate will be sealed. | The Preparations Sir Mark of Collara performs one last run back to Abar to check on the progression of his upcoming weapon and armory needed for his battle against his dark doppelganger hours later into the day. He trains with the blacksmith’s servant—the Abarian knight—in a small area hidden in a wooden area, using a black-blade enchanted with powerful magic. After also putting on his newly crafted armor from the armorsmith, Mark and the sharpshooter venture onward elsewhere. Hours before battle, a dark wizard—his name revealed—summons Sir Darkimus, telling him to be ready.

Characters:
  • Majors:
    • Sir Mark of Collara - The main character. Mark lives in the small town of Collara, located in the Great Casca Plains. A respected man and knight under the former king of Old Casche Monarch. Lives single and alone in a small residence. Some time in mid-October (Ides of October), someone placed him under a curse, one where a desired dream turns into a nightmare that can be fatal. Now, he seeks for answers.
      • Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach (markiplierGAME)
      • Exile knight sword - Sir Mark's knight blade. Given to him by his master. Used when under the orders of King Manta of the Casche Monarch.
      • Izia blacksmith's artisan craft - Black-blade crafted by Ureo Ralph. Enchanted with untamable dark magic with its own restriction the sheath that comes along with it. Sir Mark's protection blade.
    • Ruok the Soothsayer - The soothsayer from the town of Collara. An apparent friend of Sir Mark of Collara. A dependent individual to the townspeople in using his ability to foresee events and recall past experiences to solve conplications in their lives.
      • Thomas Fischbach
    • Sir Ureo Ralph of Abar - An expert in sorcery and mythical resolution as well as one of the town's top blacksmiths. He resides in the city of Abar, two miles away from Collara. Ureo has a servant that assists him in the workshop as well as a knight to serve both Sir Ralph and the religious aristocrats in the city. Has crafted over 600 swords, whether it's for display, for fighting and self-defense, or personal amusement and usage by himself.
    • Lady Margaret Ann Juya - A secretive lady working as an assassin under the orders of persons unknown. Wields two sharpshooting pistols as her weapon of choice. One of the most superior mystic-bullet magicians known in the continent. Commonly referred to as Maj, Margaret's birthplace and current residence are unknown. The public have called her "the Purple Sprite," likely because not many are able to interact with Maj whenever out on her tasks.
      • Michelle "MinX" (TheRPGMinx)
      • Poker (both I and II) dual-pistols - Dual-pistols that carry mystical bullets known as arca. Each one are able to cast specific types of spells. These spells, however, are limited to those one can naturally possess and perform.
    • Sir Skael Saxon, Jr. - A retired knight born in a wealthy family that resides in the city of Abar. An expert in sorcery and mythical resoultion (same as Ureo) as well as one of the town's armorsmiths.
    • Sir Darkimus of Hathes - Mark's darker parallel from Hathes. Summoned by the dark wizard and was released through the knight's shadow at night. He warns his mortal parallel of the permanent bearing of the Narmarn Curse as well as taking over the monarch that the knight serves.
      • Kytton dark legacy - Darkimus's enchanted blade equal to his rival Sir Mark. Passed down to him by a superior force in the depths of Hathes.
    • Nevan the Dark Wizard - The major antagonist. A shady figure of unknown origin. Assisting Sir Darkimus to the Casche Monarch's throne, he plots a war against Sir Mark of Collara in retaliation for the death of his uncle, Naaz of the Republic, who stole the precious book of secrets.
      • Sphinx unknown
  • Minors:
    • Pynru - A servant of the blacksmith from Abar. Wields a silver-blade as his weapon of choice. Under the blacksmith Ureo's command, he guides Mark to the workplace.
      • Dai knight sword - Dai is the sword of the Abarian knight and servant of the blacksmith, Pynru. Its name is from an ancient fictitious language usually defined as "defending one's self." It is unknown if this sword's a regular knight's sword or possess any enchantments or powers that the wielder can use.
Places:
  • Cities:
    • Collara - Sir Mark's residence. A small town located in the Great Casca Plains. Established by a group of elders and used to be territory to the Casche Monarch. Population: 200.
    • Abar - An enchanted city only two miles from Sir Mark's residence. Built adjacent to the Moise Bridge. Largely populated and almost crowded. Established by religious priests and served as their capital for the religion (the Holy City of their religion). After a civil war, these priests moved elsewhere. Population: 30,256.
    • Asheta - The kingdom that is ruled by Sir Mark's doppelganger. In the depths of Hathes lies a foretold monarchy filled with shadows known as Ashitians. Many serve in their militia under the authority and commands of Sir Darkimus of Hathes.
    • Casche Capital City - The location of the Casche Monarch's throne. This year, the monarchs hold a Halloween festival that happens to be hours before the start of an important war that will determine Sir Mark of Collara's fate.
  • Scenes/Territories:
    • The Great Casa Plains - A large and hilly region that separates the cities of Abar and Collara by (approximately) two miles. All green with few very sparse trees. There are areas near Collara that serve as extraordinary farmlands. During the evening of Halloween, the plains become a battlefield for the great duel between Sir Mark and friends and the Asheta Army. 
    • Training Grounds - A dense wooded area where the Abarian knight Pynru trains. More than likely, the trees that grow nearby are able to neutralize any magic that is casted in this area.

Other Notes:
  • The story doesn't disclose the name of the dense woods that Pynru trains in. For now, it is nicknamed Training Grounds (see said place under Places).
  • During the duration of the fight, the ring constricted any fear that could have leaked.
  • The Narmarn Curse took on a different effect this day. Pynru's face and voice had been altered during the training.
  • Ronn is derived from an ancient [fictitious] language, where the term/word bears several meanings. When used as a name (like the way Maj uses it), it means "savior" or "hero."
  • Maj drags Mark to the cathedral to see the priest. Later on in the story, the visit is revealed to be an important one.
  • The Dark Wizard's identity has been disclosed upon the beginning of the battle.
  • As revealed in the reading, Naaz of the Republic is the Dark Wizard's uncle, who stole the precious book of secrets in hopes of unlocking whatever mysteries lied within.
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. Copyright (c) 2013-2014 Junie-D.
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The Team and The Visit

Inside his workplace, Sir Ureo Ralph hammers a metallic blue material into a fancy star shape and places it onto an iron handle before inserting the silver head, crafting a fresh new sword. “Perfect!” He smiled and wields his craft, grasping it in both hands. A few swings to test its firmness, and it came out excellent with no faults that could be found.  “Blue Ira,” the blacksmith said, “is ready to be used.”
 
Then there was a knock at the door. Placing the sword into the sheath, Ureo walks to answer the knock, opening the door to see his servant—the Abarian knight—with Sir Mark. Ureo said, “Thank you, Pynru. Both come in.” And they did as instructed.
 
Sir Mark picks a workbench to rest on while Pynru the servant remained at the door. The blacksmith, while hanging his newly finished craft on the wall, elated, “Happy that you’re here, Mark! You were just the individual I wanted to speak to.” Turning to face him, he continued, “How was your travel to Abar?”
 
“It was okay, the usual,” the knight of Collara answered, “until I started to think. Apparently, this curse that some magician gave me, not only alters the imaginations of sleeping, but also the images that appear within thought.”
 
“The Narmarn Curse,” Ureo stated as he examined the materials in his shelves and cabinets, “has several variations that the caster can give their victims. One only affects the dreams of the night, another the dreams of day, and another the perspective of reality. Not only that, the curse has the unique ability to bring in demons from Hathes or summon figurations from the realm of the supernatural, Kohyl.” He motions his servant to the backroom when he requested, “I need my tongs for this one, Pynru.”
 
While the male in iron plating did as he was told, the blacksmith, with hope in his voice, asked the resting man, “How long have you had this curse? What have you experienced so far?”
 
Careful not to think too hard, Mark replied, “The reoccurring nightmares of a female entity trying to take me into Hathes. I was left frozen, lacking control of my tongue and nearly dying from their demonic claws.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and continued, “Today, on my way here, I was pulled into a daymare. Stuck climbing a mountainside and nearly died by some weird goat-human being. It couldn’t have been a satyr.”
 
“You think not a satyr?” Ureo asked pleasantly, taking the tongs from Pynru’s hands and holding them like a knife. “Think not a satyr, Mark?”
 
“Yes,” Mark nodded.
 
Pynru pulled out a book from one of the cabinets adjacent to the doorway into the backroom and skimmed through while the blacksmith told his friend, “I do remember the description of such a creature that does reside in Obsidia. Such entities are sometimes confused with the fabled satyrs.” Ureo picked up a strange crimson metal, placed it in a specialized container of a chemical, then observed the remains. Extracting it with the tongs still in hand, he points the metal at the servant and commands, “When you find the page on the goat-human being that was in Mark’s daymare, Pynru, I ask that you cite what is told. After that, please see if there’s anything in there about shape-shifting demons.”
 
He found the page on the first request and cited, “The Obsidian rake. Though peculiar creatures from Obsidia, these are demonic goat-human hybrids that feast on living souls that trespass on their territory. Tamable if the individual that so happens to be in the mountainous lands of the rake possesses the black onyx sick, composed of obsidian and an enchanted black onyx. These creatures are always active whenever possible.”
 
A few flipped pages and Pynru was stunned when illustrations of the next requested demonic being appeared. “Beautiful,” he said in awe of her beauty, “she is.” Then he begins to cite, with slight distortion in his voice. “Nymphs of Hathes. Naturally female figurations disguised as lustful and seductive humans, these nymphs can be found throughout the lands of the underworld. Commonly mistaken as succubae, they are actually considered reaper spirits, for their sole purpose appears to be taking souls of the living into Hathes, where they plan to torture the individual or individuals picked to go. Whenever upset or angered, the Nymphs of Hathes reveal themselves and let the Reapers of Destiny complete their tasks instead. If one is to venture the underworld’s vast lands, be wary of these entities.”
 
Sir Mark began to chuckle after Pynru had finished. “Nymphs?” he jokingly questioned. “Those things in my nightmares were nymphs?! I’ve only heard of such feminine beings in stories that took place in the overworld.”
 
“Common idea,” Ureo replied immediately as he craved a circular hole into the crimson metal, “that all nymphs only inhabit the world of the mortals. Partially a fact. I jest not that they also inhabit the realm of demons below us. Never have I encounter one from Hathes, so I am ignorant on their forms of torture.”
 
Taking another deep breath, the knight of Collara stands from his resting spot and queried, “Do you think there’s a special weapon that could be used whenever I enter these cursed illusions? Could you be able to craft me one?”
 
Pynru takes a gray key from the same cabinet of books and unlocked a chest, which stored all of the enchanted swords that the productive blacksmith had crafted months before. One particular blade, with a reddish-purple sheath of magnificent design, was taken out and given to Mark. “While Ureo and I build you an ideal sword to use against the demonic spirits that haunt and taunt you,” the servant told him, “this blade shall allow you to fend them off long enough to escape.” Taking off his gauntlet and pull off a copper-colored ring, he continued, “One of the aristocrats uptown gave me this ring in case I was ever to be trapped in similar situations, such as yours, Sir Mark. I have never been in these illusions and believe that the day may never come since there have not been any tasks to complete with these dangers. Bear this ring, and you will not remain frozen or defenseless whenever in sight of the entities.”
 
Looking at Pynru, Mark smiled and took the ring as well as the enchanted blade. Ureo, almost finished with his newly crafted ring, turns to the two men and says, “Thank you, Pynru. Mark, always keep Izia next to you. The enchanted blade, as explained before, will protect you inside your dreamlands. Be careful not to swing the blade around innocent human mortals as well. This sheath restricts the dark magic from escaping Izia and casting spells. The aristocrat’s ring grants the bearer protection from Hathes’ creatures as well as combats any fear that leaves an individual under paralysis. This, too, should not leave your side.”
 
He nodded, “Yes, sir. Guess I will depart for now. Thought I’d also pay Sir Skael a visit before heading on back to meet with the Casche Monarch.”
 
“Very well, nobleman,” Ureo addressed respectfully, “on your way. No need to keep you here. Come back tomorrow, and I will have the sword ready!” As Mark walked out the door, he turns and waves to both men before turning back into the streets of Abar.
 
 
Outside, just three blocks from Sir Mark’s current location, a man in strange robes runs with a bag containing valuables in his hands. Behind him was a woman wielding dual-pistols in both hands. She was agile and swift, moving through the street and buildings as stealthy as possible. The man made a sharp turn into an alleyway, where the sharpshooter fires two bullets from her weapons before returning them into the holsters—one shot struck his arm, paralyzing the individual all over, while another hits his hand to drop the bag. A short jog towards him, she shouted, “Did you really think you’d make it far!? A thief jests! Have you never heard the tale of the Purple Sprite?!”
 
Pulling the man up and thrusting him against the wall, face first, she continues, “The tale of the Purple Sprite told the story of a dual-pistol wielding, sharp-shooting assassin that wonders the continent of Europe. She searches for little pricks, such as yourself, that waste their time committing these acts for personal gain irregardless of the circumstances.” She takes out her right pistol, marked Poker-II, and strikes the thief’s neck, knocking him unconscious. Examining the contents of the bag, the sharpshooter finds that everything’s all there; nothing had been removed or discarded during the chase.
 
“Maj!” a man’s voice shouted.
 
She glances over her shoulder and sees Sir Mark of Collara walking towards her, waving his right hand while his left held Izia in sheath. With slight disgust in her sigh of relief and pistol still in hand, she quickly turned, pointed her weapon at him and demanded, “Stop right there, Mark!”
 
And he did as requested. “Calm down, Maj. All I did was announcing my greetings.”
 
“Did you forget who I am, Sir Knight?” Maj queried, tilting her pistol while it remains targeted on the man.
 
Mark could feel his heart pound as the adrenaline flowed through his bloodstream, but the ring prevented the fear he felt to escape, proving its ability to mask the bearer’s fear from their opponents. Hoping that she doesn’t shoot afterwards, he answered, “A friend of mines, assigned to keep these parts safe?”
 
Tilting it one last time, the sharpshooter laughed hysterically for a few seconds before quickly skewing seriousness. “To YOU, Mark, my name is Margaret Ann Juya, a fellow acquaintance whom dares to keep her identity rather public than unknown. Very few are allowed to call me such an alias as Maj. However, I do not allow simpletons wielding that alias on their tongues; In fact, many of these simpletons end up on my hit-list out of coincidence!” Lowering the pistol as she took the bag of valuables and walked towards the knight, she strictly commanded, “If you’re here to locate Sir Skael Saxon, Jr., you’ve come to the wrong alleyway. He is northward, so we will go that way! Follow behind, and I may spare ye’ life.”
 
He followed her as instructed. During the walk, a question came into the knight’s mind; it was something that he became curious about, something he believed Margaret could answer. “Who was the thief? What was stolen?”
 
“Wow,” she replied instantly, nearly stopping Mark as the second question was given, “you truly do enjoy being a curious one, don’t ya’? The man fit the descriptions of the runaway Alzand of the Republic perfectly. These valuables belong to one of the wealthy aristocrats near the Razul Cathedral. When I locked my eyes on him, he knew trouble was coming. And to make his day worse, he didn’t have any weapons on him. The Purple Sprite was successful in another assigned task. Once I get something from Skael, I will be heading to the cathedral, then back to my superiorities.”
 
“Superiorities?”
 
“Truly curious. Government officials. That’s all I’m allowed to disclosed to outsiders of the system.” A rather puzzled expression arose on Mark’s face, but it was erased once they were at the six-glass doors to the armorsmith’s workshop. Maj peeks inside through the thin glass windows on the door, motioning her eyes around for Skael before knocking.
 
Footsteps were heard approaching the door; then he stood on the other side. “Hello, Lady Margaret,” the armorsmith greeted with a bright smile on his face, “Sir Mark. Come to pay ye’ ol’ pal a visit, eh? Just finished a set of armor in the back.”
 
Her tone of voice as well as the color of her cheeks presented change to Mark, something that he never really noticed much from the serious sharpshooter. “Hi,” Maj said shyly, blushing a little as she tilts her head down. Walking in, she placed Poker on a table nearest the corner. Mark placed Exile on the same table, and as he was about to speak to the man, the lady began with her request, trying her best not to look into Skael’s eyes for more than a second. “Before I, uh, go out on my next task—Skael, uh, yes, I need some fair armor or suit for…”
 
Sir Mark and Sir Skael studied Lady Margaret’s body, rather curious to why she halted, why she stood there frozen, staring at the armorsmith. “Margaret?” Skael said, waving his hands in front of her face, awaiting her to blink back into reality. And that she did.
 
One blink of both eyes, and she continued, catching her breath a bit as her words flowed together without much interruption. “I need some well-crafted or fair armor or suit for my next task. If you possess any more arca as well as important enhancements for Poker, I would desire those too!” The knight of Collara didn’t know what to do after what he had witnessed from the woman.
 
Passing a slight chuckle at Maj’s attempt in making a formal request, the generous armorsmith replied, “If I do recall, a recently finished suit was ready to be used for you.” Walking in the back to search for the suit, Mark distracted himself from asking Maj the very question that was in the back of his throat, glaring at all the wooden mannequins wearing some of the armors designed and crafted ages ago.
 
It felt like Skael was taking too much time looking for the suit, so much time that Mark couldn’t hold the question any tighter. “Margaret,” the knight started, “do you have…” She took her eyes away from the floor and stared into Mark’s eyes. He could see that Maj wasn’t hiding any secrets of actual expressions of kindness and affection those few seconds ago.
 
“Do you have…?”
 
“No,” the lady with luminous eyes answered abruptly. “If you were going to ask about what had happened a few seconds ago, your mind is doing nothing more than playing tricks on you. I do not possess such affections for… him.”
 
“Love?” Sir Mark continued.
 
Maj give off a sinister grin. “Sir Mark of Collara, do not cave into what your mind has conjured. He, as well as you, is nothing more than another acquaintance.”
 
“For him?”
 
A slight giggle was expelled from the woman’s lips as she turned and retrieved Poker-II. Gradually directing back to the knight while raising the pistol, she chuckles and says fearsomely, “I hope you still know how to differentiate illusions from reality, fair knight.”
 
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he replies, “I am in reality, for you dare not fire. He is no different from myself in the fact that we are only acquaintances.”
 
Nodding her head and placing the pistol back on the table, she softly answers, “Very good. Very good.”
 
Skael walks into the room with a blue-violet suit in his arms. Passing it on to Maj, he tells her, “When you do go out on your next task, bear this suit. Berri, like many of my excellent crafts, has been enchanted so that nothing should be able to penetrate or scratch it. Best be careful out there.”
 
Staring at the lively colored suit rather than the armorsmith Skael as she took it from his hands, she subtly blushed and shyly responded, “T-thanks. I will. And, uh…”
 
The armorsmith took a glimpse at Poker before wiping them with a solvent from a chest in the backroom. He told Maj, “Other than giving Poker some more of the gravir, I haven’t come across anything worthy of giving the two. Sorry, Margaret.”
 
“That’s quite all right, Skael. I must go now. A race to the cathedral, then back to Ashia. Farewell, sirs.” With Poker back in their hostlers and suit on her shoulders, she gracefully walked out of the workshop before making a speedy migration to the cathedral.
 
Looking at the armorsmith examining Exile, Sir Mark jests, “You lust for her?”
 
“She does not lust for me, so why should I lust for her?” Sir Skael answered as he continues to study the silver-blade, wiping it with the gravir solvent.
 
The knight stood rather confused at that answer. “Truthfully,” he tells, “you must have known that I jest. And you can’t be blind by her actions. Maj…” All of a sudden, Mark stopped himself from going any farther with his statement.
 
Finishing what he was doing and hold the sword in his hands, the armorsmith curiously queried, “What were you going to tell me, buddy?”
 
“Nothing more.”
 
“Hm.” Passing Exile back to its owner, Skael told him, “Before you leave, do you need me to craft something for ye’? Maybe armor for later use? Halloween’s tomorrow!”
 
“Oh, now, is it?” Mark replied humorously, smiling as he looked at the man. “Maybe something that fits the holiday then. After a while, one begins to hate the casual silvery of his armor.”
 
“I’ll be sure to obtain some amethyst and craft it into the best armor a knight could ever possess.”
 
The Collarean knight chuckled. As he walked out, Mark said, “I hope to see another magnificent craft from you, Sir Skael! Counting on ya now!”
 
The walk back to Collara was a pleasant one, for this time, the knight was careful not to do much thinking and allowing his mind to drift. As the sun began to relax upon the horizons of the Great Casca Plains, Sir Mark was feeling rather sleepy, but this feeling was unique, something unlike those previously felt. Though he knows that he could awaken to whatever the curse came up with next, a sensation ran throughout his system, keeping his heart at bay and his sanity in check. Maybe a quick nap will set it all in balance.
 
Walking inside his housing and upstairs to his bedroom, Mark slowly felt faint, his vision blurring and legs almost giving way per step. Finally there, he collapsed in his bed without changing, closing his eyes as he said to himself, “No more.”
 
 
His dream this night wasn’t a nightmare, but rather, a utopia, a perfect realm of peace and blissfulness that was deep in his conscience. Mark ventured through the Casche Capital City, which appeared to be holding a festival. He didn’t know what it was for until he witnessed the erection of a knight statue, a statue of him—Sir Mark of Collara—composed of an oddly colored marble. While all of the citizens cheered, laughed, and applauded his arrival, the honored walked the streets dazed by the excitement. “What have I done to deserve this?” he thought. At the foot of the steps leading to the palace stood King Mantra and his son, Prince Te’on, holding their royal crown with vivid white smiles on their faces. This gave Mark an ironically uneasy feeling.
 
Two female servants took the knight’s arms and guided him to a seat between the two monarchs.
 
“Our honorably noble knight,” King Mantra announced proudly, “Sir Mark of Collara, will be taking charge over this amazing capital, serving as our replacements while the monarch’s travel to Theius. I, King Mantra Casche, have all faith that he will be as fair and worthy as my handsome son, Te’on, has been to you all.”
 
After given the gesture to speak, Prince Te’on announces, “Like my father, I, too, place faith in Mark. For as much love as I have for my family and my people, I will accept our dear knight as kinsman of the Casche Monarchy. The brave, courageous, honorable, and noble Sir Mark of Collara shall take my place and reign until we return! Let us all celebrate one final time for Mark, one last time before Mantra e Te’on’s departure to Theius!”
 
As the monarchs lowered the royal crown onto the sitting man’s head, one servant gave him a chalice, while the other poured him a dark wine, which he raised in the air before slipping. Several guards had appeared before Mantra and Te’on as they began to walk the streets out of the capital city. Watching them leave and observing the excited people on the sides, Mark continued to request for wine, drinking like he truly was meant to be ruler.
 
However, once the last drips of wine had entered his body, he laid his eyes in front him, blinked, and witnesses the world around him changed so suddenly. This wasn’t a nightmare yet; Sir Mark remained asleep. Rather than sitting in front of the Casche Capital City at their celebration festival, he sat on the throne of Asheta, staring at the Gothic-styled entrance doors to the dark room of the black-brick castle. Standing from the seat and left rather puzzled by his sights, he said, “This isn’t one. I know this isn’t another one.” A headache gradually knocked against the knight’s skull, leaving him weak and dizzy, unable to control his limbs. “The alcohol’s… taking effect…” He eventually stood facing the double doors, but the dark wine was quick in possessing the man’s body, leaving him to collapse on the door and sliding down to the floor.
 
Another blink of his eyes, then Mark noticed that he had awakened back in his bedroom. Instead of drooling in the comfort of the sheets, the sleeping knight’s body lied in the floor, blankets pulled and piled on top of him. Still tired, he lifted himself from the floor, began to stretched and wiped his eyes clear to see in the darkness.
 
A particular sound could be heard. Something was bubbling, but Sir Mark couldn’t see what it could be. His feet, however, sensed a cloudy vapor surrounding the room as he walked around to locate the source of the sounds. Few minutes later, it had halted, which sent chills along Mark’s spine and the hairs on his neck stand attentively. Grazing his hands, he came to the realization that he had to still be dreaming, for he didn’t bear the ring that restricted his fear.
 
His ears heard a voice, one that sounded like a demonic variation of his own, which added on to his overpowering adrenaline. “Welcome to ye’ damned nightmare,” it told softly. Mark turned slowly and sees a dimly glowing man standing in front of the door. It was a darker identical, a doppelganger of himself. This kept him frozen, standing motionless, only his heart beating rapidly and his lungs gradually receiving oxygen. “This curse of yours,” it continued, “will be your best friend when this is all over.”
 
Regaining control of his mouth, Mark asked, “Who… are you?”
 
“Have you not heard of e doppelganger? Well, I bear the name Darkimus. Sir Mark, you are looking at the complete representation of a parallel twin from Hathes. While you wander this world as a knight with fear and cryptic cowardice, I reside in Asheta, prince of a world ready to reawaken and wreak havoc in this dreadful hell.” He gave a sinful smile to his mortal twin. “Ha-ha, I jest. It’s not hell yet. You’ll gain a spot in the monarchy. Everyone will give you recognition.” Darkimus walked closer to the pale man, placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder and states in seriousness, “But if one must take the throne in one realm, then another must refrain from taking power in an alternate kingdom. I would just hate to witness that day, but you, my friend, have less than the next uprising to rid yourself of this bind that you’re in.”
 
Then he vanished into the shadows, which gave Sir Mark more control of his body again. With a scratchy voice, he said, “Those kingdoms. Casche and Asheta. W-what could be happening now?” A blink of his eyes later, he could see the light of dawn passing through the door. The knight awakens to a new day; today was Halloween.
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. (3)
Markiplier Chronicles
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My first Markiplier fanfiction as well as the first book in my fanfictional series. | After a mysterious cursing, Mark sets out for answers, assembling a small team of friends as he readies for a battle with his dark doppelganger from Hathes. It is until midnight that his fate will be sealed. | The Team and The Visit Arriving in the city of Abar, Mark meets with his three friends: Ureo Ralph the blacksmith and craftsman, Maj the sharpshooter, and Skael Saxon the armorsmith and alchemist. After sending his request for a new sword and armor, the Collarean knight returns home and collapses into his bed, too tired to avoid sleep; however, this dream was not what it was like the previous nights.

Characters:
  • Majors:
    • Sir Mark of Collara - The main character. Mark lives in the small town of Collara, located in the Great Casca Plains. A respected man and knight under the former king of Old Casche Monarch. Lives single and alone in a small residence. Some time in mid-October (Ides of October), someone placed him under a curse, one where a desired dream turns into a nightmare that can be fatal. Now, he seeks for answers.
      • Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach (markiplierGAME)
      • Exile knight sword - Sir Mark's knight blade. Given to him by his master. Used when under the orders of King Manta of the Casche Monarch.
      • Izia blacksmith's artisan craft - Black-blade crafted by Ureo Ralph. Enchanted with untamable dark magic with its own restriction the sheath that comes along with it. Sir Mark's protection blade.
    • Sir Ureo Ralph of Abar - An expert in sorcery and mythical resolution as well as one of the town's top blacksmiths. He resides in the city of Abar, two miles away from Collara. Ureo has a servant that assists him in the workshop as well as a knight to serve both Sir Ralph and the religious aristocrats in the city. Has crafted over 600 swords, whether it's for display, for fighting and self-defense, or personal amusement and usage by himself.
    • Lady Margaret Ann Juya - A secretive lady working as an assassin under the orders of persons unknown. Wields two sharpshooting pistols as her weapon of choice. One of the most superior mystic-bullet magicians known in the continent. Commonly referred to as Maj, Margaret's birthplace and current residence are unknown. The public have called her "the Purple Sprite," likely because not many are able to interact with Maj whenever out on her tasks.
      • Michelle "MinX" (TheRPGMinx)
      • Poker (both I and II) dual-pistols - Dual-pistols that carry mystical bullets known as arca. Each one are able to cast specific types of spells. These spells, however, are limited to those one can naturally possess and perform.
    • Sir Skael Saxon, Jr. - A retired knight born in a wealthy family that resides in the city of Abar. An expert in sorcery and mythical resoultion (same as Ureo) as well as one of the town's armorsmiths.
    • Sir Darkimus of Hathes - Mark's darker parallel from Hathes. Summoned by the dark wizard and was released through the knight's shadow at night. He warns his mortal parallel of the permanent bearing of the Narmarn Curse as well as taking over the monarch that the knight serves.
  • Minors:
    • Pynru - A servant of the blacksmith from Abar. Wields a silver-blade as his weapon of choice. Under the blacksmith Ureo's command, he guides Mark to the workplace.
      • Dai knight sword - Dai is the sword of the Abarian knight and servant of the blacksmith, Pynru. Its name is from an ancient fictitious language usually defined as "defending one's self." It is unknown if this sword's a regular knight's sword or possess any enchantments or powers that the wielder can use.
    • Alzand of the Republic - The identity of the thief taken down by Margaret Ann Juya. A runaway that stole valuable items from the Razul Cathedral, property owned by one of the wealthy aristocrats of Abar. 
    • King Mantra Casche - The former king in power of the Casche Monarch. After reigning for twenty-two years, he has passed on the power of the monarchy to his son, Te'on Casche. Sir Mark, however, still serves him until the day of the king's death.
    • Prince Te'on Casche - The new king in power of the Casche Monarch. Due to his old age, his father passed on the power of the monarchy to Te'on. So far, he has reigned for three years.
Places:
  • Cities:
    • Collara - Sir Mark's residence. A small town located in the Great Casca Plains. Established by a group of elders and used to be territory to the Casche Monarch. Population: 200.
    • Abar - An enchanted city only two miles from Sir Mark's residence. Built adjacent to the Moise Bridge. Largely populated and almost crowded. Established by religious priests and served as their capital for the religion (the Holy City of their religion). After a civil war, these priests moved elsewhere. Population: 30,256.
    • Asheta - The kingdom that is ruled by Sir Mark's doppelganger. In the depths of Hathes lies a foretold monarchy filled with shadows known as Ashitians. Many serve in their militia under the authority and commands of Sir Darkimus of Hathes.
    • Casche Capital City - The location of the Casche Monarch's throne. This year, the monarchs hold a Halloween festival that happens to be hours before the start of an important war that will determine Sir Mark of Collara's fate.
  • Scenes/Territories:
    • The Great Casa Plains - A large and hilly region that separates the cities of Abar and Collara by (approximately) two miles. All green with few very sparse trees. There are areas near Collara that serve as extraordinary farmlands.
    • Obsidia - A mountainous region in Hathes where the Obsidian rake reside.

Other Notes:
  • Ureo Ralph is the fastest of the several blacksmiths in Abar. Known to craft twenty swords in one day.
  • The spells used on the man were the arca-variation of paralysis (from Poker-I) and petrificaiton (from Poker-II).
  • Margaret doesn't play around with Sir Mark. She is always serious around him. Others, however, do not see much of her seriousness.
  • Skael is blind to Maj's actions and behavior whenever she pays him visits.
  • The effects that Mark felt as dusk fell were from the dark wizard's doing.
  • Though he did not experience a nightmare this night, he still lacked control of his illusions.
  • Upon waking up in the realm of mortals, Mark is wearing his pajamas rather than his attire from the day before.
  • As inferred by Darkimus, Mark's dream depicts the complete opposite of what is to happen if the curse isn't lifted by its due date.
Markiplier Chronicles: His Shadow. Copyright (c) 2013-2014 Junie-D.
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:iconmyheadwonders:
MyHeadWonders Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist Interface Designer
Hey thanx for the FAVE, really means alot!!
Minion-Blah=P (Razz)  GiveGetCenter-party  
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:iconnorcabot:
NorcaBot Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014
Hey man! It's been awhile, where have you been?
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inferno-sensus Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
 Thanks for the fav!   Fella Heart Kiss (Love)
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TheDrowWarrior1 Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
<3 Herro How You Be? :)
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Tazaca Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the fave! :)
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