For so many millenia, he had wandered in the eternal emptiness, the black abyss known to mortals as Purgatory. His torn and stained cape, a faded crimson rag, fluttered behind him in the non-existent breeze. His long black hair, dirty and blood-stained, curled around his shoulders and fell across his back, becoming tangled in the tarnished and rusted buckles and studs in his leather. His face was lined and haggard and the edges of his mouth were pulled downward in an eternal frown. His eyes were no longer alive and alert, but dull and listless, and a deep split ran across the crest of his skull: the work of an enemy soldier’s axe too many years ago to remember. But that wound was before the darkness and no longer had relevance to the ancient warrior.
Sometimes in the void, shapes would appear: wavery forms of trees or rocks, wispy fields of grass as though seen through dense fog or as if the things themselves were made of something less than substantial. Never could he touch those objects, for they were as ephermeral as clouds and mist, but always were they a welcome sight in that unbroken black landscape. There were other places, however, where the shapes would not be so wavery, where they took on a very solid form. These places invariably seemed to be deep cellars of houses or lightless dungeons of castle keeps. The warrior had often stopped in these spots and the experiences in those places were like being in another world, one that reminded him of a time when he himself might have been one of those wavery shapes in the darkness. Those times were beyond rememberance, but not beyond nostalgia, and the old wanderer sat in those havens of shape and memory for weeks or months or years at a time.
One such haven was known to some mortals, and they referred to it as the Black Ring: a dense section of a great forest far in the eastern reaches of the world where no light could penetrate the canopy to reach the ground. It was there, those few mortals knew, where all manner of abominable creatures made their home. King among those creatures who lived in the eternal shade were the things known as Shadows: monsterous creatures composed of animated darkness that were angry and vicious towards all living things. Shadows were indestructable, angry, and numerous, the mortals knew, and all those who could stayed away from the Black Ring where the monsters made their home. It was exactly this place where the wandering warrior had, for the last hundred years, been wandering.
There, the warrior could feel the trees and the ground, could touch the world he so distantly recalled. There he felt like more than just a wanderer, as though that place made him something more distinct and tangible. There, like in deep cellars and castle dungeons, he felt weighty and substantial with form. Over the years, the wanderer became sure he could make that place his home, that he could live in that undisturbed forest for at least a large part of his eternity. However, there came a moment, for one who wanders in the lightless worlds does not measure time by days, but by moments, when parts of his solid forest was broken and made insubstantial to him. He came upon a copse of trees with wavery, indistinct shapes, which puzzled the ancient warrior, but he could not venture close to gain the cause of the disturbance because being in such places removed *his* form as well and he was not ready to go back to that way of life.
Looking on from around the spot, he saw another indistinct section, farther in the forest, where things were less than whole. He moved to investigate and came upon a trail of such places. He followed that trail until, finally, he discovered something extraordinary to his senses: there were other beings in the last spot! One was a short, pointy-eared man with eyes the color the wanderer’s cape once had, and who very much reminded the ancient warrior of himself. The other was a woman, roughly the same height as the man, though not at all warrior-like in dress or posture. Their forms were as wavery and shapeless as the forest surrounding them, but they were unmistakably distinct from the trees and rocks of the forest.
The woman moved towards a shapeless tree and, as she did, a great, echoing rumble emanated from the copse and the wanderer scrambled and ducked behind the nearest solid tree, for he had not heard sound since time before memory. The rumbling quickly subsided, and the wanderer edged his way around the tree to find the man still standing just at the edge of shapelessness and the woman crouched at the base of a tree. The wanderer ventured closer as he had not seen other beings in centuries and was eager for the experience. If only he could get closer, to touch and feel those creatures that were not mere wood or stone, who might even be able to interact with him! He stood quietly in thought, lamenting the barrier of insubstantiality between the beings and himself when the barrier simply disappeared. The trees came into sharp focus, the leaves of the forest floor were made solid, and the man and woman became tangible.
The sudden transformation was accompanied by a terrific shriek that rolled over the ancient warrior and echoed through the darkness, followed by sounds like rolling thunder and crashing waves. The wanderer was not deterred, however, and he moved quickly into that place which had seemed so unattainable moments ago. He moved towards the man, who stood closest to him, determined to feel the touch of living flesh for the first time in memory. But the woman brought forth two stones and struck them together, and for a mere instant, the copse was made incorporeal again. The warrior cringed as his form shifted from material to immaterial and back again and his hand passed through the man without touching him. A powerful rage came over the ancient man for he realized the woman’s intent to change the forms of her surroundings and pull them again beyond the warrior’s reach. He could not let that happen.
The ancient warrior moved with deadly intent as he drew forth his knicked and rusted longsword. The woman struck the stones again and all things lost their shape for another moment. The warrior stumbled across the barrier of substantialness, but was driven even harder to reach and stop the woman. She struck the stones again, pointed at the wrapped branch at her feet, but the ancient warrior was upon her, blade raised high and ready to plunge downward to stop her crusade against corporealness. He need only to wait a moment to regain his solid form. But his solidity did not return. The woman looked up, looked straight into the warrior’s eyes, and for a moment she became solid and distinct to his senses. The wanderer swung his sword hard, but the blade was as intangible as he was and passed straight through the very solid-seeming woman.
*No…n…no*. The words echoed from the woman and through the warrior’s head and he took a step back, flustered, confused, and angry. Then a cry like the sound of a gong rolled across the forest and the woman’s eyes left those of the warrior’s and her form faded to insubstantiality as her male companion came running to her side. The ancient warrior, between the unbearable sound and the his own persistent incorporealness ran from the effected place until he was returned to his weighty form. He turned back to see the two companions stand and run, and the sphere of haziness moved along with them. Soon, they were gone and the ancient wanderer was left alone again. He turned and walked on in a different direction than the companions had gone, determined to let them go. He stopped and placed a hand on a tree, feeling the hardness, the rough jags in the bark. He shifted his weight and felt the crunch of the leaves underfoot. He wandered on.
