Imic the 23rd sat down slowly. On the table in front of him was a letter from someone who called himself 'dark two'. The letter's message was simple, woold you like to join the order of the ale. At first glance, it wasn't so bad. Ale was his second favorite beverage after all, just after beer. But he was worried. He had a lifetime's experience of backstabbing, plot and skulduggery. Not that he was the backstabber. No, he would never do such a thing,he was honor bound to do good, however that was the problem. You see, it really all depended on your idea of good. He thought about it, pondering the possible outcomes, before he went to sleep.
This was a mistake
He woke in a passage. It was dark. The walls were covered in blood. He got up. He walked along the passage. He recognized it. He was in datetattooed. He walked through the shadow city, before long seeing light. But out of the light came a huge helmet. Red eyes glowered at him. The helmet sprauted arms and legs. Then a torso. Then, it lunged for him.
And he woke up.
He got out of the chair, and immediately got a roll of parchment from his coat. He fetched a quill and started writing a letter to dark two
Dear dark two
I have decided to take up your offer of joining the order of the ale. Should you accept me on this i have been having nightmares lately, and if you could, i would like your advice on the matter.
Thank you again for the offer.
Sincerely, Imic the 23rd, of doomforests
Formerly of stroking
He took the letter and, promising himself to look up this orderin the history books, gave it to the bored looking fellow who had given it to him.
Now he could only wait...