Damian spent quite some time staring off into the distant horizons of this terrifying castle, he wondered how the people of this place once lived and how their lives had been shaped by the strange choices of their benevolent ruler, from what he had gathered from the banners, armoured nights and many woodland beasts is that this was once a stronghold of war.
Perhaps it belonged to the very same army he had thought against in his own nightmare, perhaps their predecessors or even their successors it was impossible to tell from here, but from what the description of Warden's new sword given them he was fairly confident that it was the successors of the ones he thought, he had been the one to strike down the vessel of War in the nightmare so it was more than likely that the real one had survived the ordeal and constructed this mighty place to call their own once the war had settled.
At least that's what made sense to him, he was no anthropologist nor historian so it wasn't really his place to be guessing such things in the first place, despite his distracting thoughts, sightseeing wasn't the only thing on his mind. His role was to act as an advanced scout to try and reduce the number of fights they would need to have in order to reach the main keep where the dragon had made its lair.
As he watched the undead guards shamble around he noted some strange behaviours which stood out to him, first of all was the strange relationship they seemed to possess with the Mirror hounds which served as more reliable scouts and front runners compared to their giant counterparts, the creatures back on their world had rarely formed cohesive groups and even more rarely among those of different creature types.
This prompted the honouring idea that there may be a tyrant somewhere out there among the ruins, commanding his undead army even after their last stand had fallen all so long ago, the thought of such a being made Damian's blood run cold with terror yet that wasn't their only concern, it also seemed like they were quickly learning or better yet adjusting to the sudden shift in their environment with the undead becoming far more animated than before, the ones by the gate whilst powerful were still slow for their size but in here they moved with far more finesse and poise than before.
They also seemed to be patrolling the streets for any signs of the sleepers, at first he thought they were just wandering the streets on a long winding loop but after close examination he realised that it was different sets of the undead walking by every so often, with the only differences being their choice of weapons and small damages to their armour to give it away.
After giving his report of his findings to Warden the two discussed what their next plan of action should be, whether to hide out here for a few days to gain more information or risk moving further inward in the hopes of getting closer to their goal. Whilst the first option seemed the safest there was an unknown element at play which they had to take into effect, which was that most of the accounts of the other sleepers First Nightmares all had one common thread which was that it didn't seem to last any longer than around five days at most or around three days on average.
They simply didn't know if they were also limited on time for their advance and what would happen if they failed to meet this dreadful deadline, there was the chance they were overthinking it and it was possible that they had all the time in the world but they weren't sure they wanted to take that risk, today was already the fifth day in this strange place so who knew how much more time they had to spare.
After a long discussion it was decided that they would remain here until the next morning and until then that every person without the ability to scout are to rest whilst those who can are to help out anyway they can, no matter how small, every advantage they gained could mean the difference between one of them making it back home. However Damian had a slightly different idea for himself, and after a heated discussion about the potential risks with their fearless leader he finally managed to convince him to let him go out on his own.
Damian knew that in order for them to survive they would need as much power as possible and right below them, following down the winding path lead straight to the heart of the battlefield they had left behind upon first entering the city, with the dozens of glistening shards in the daylight calling out to Damian like an insidious curse. Damian had wanted to try his luck later that night yet the strange force emanating from the moon the previous night had given him an ominous feeling that no matter what it would always be watching him, and that it would be greatly displeased by his presence.
So after gathering as many empty sacks as he could comfortably carry he walked towards the entrance to their broken down hideaway, turning back to face the crowd of exhausted sleepers as they stared back with expressions of both pity and a silent plea of safety as his body shimmered in the light, vanishing as if he were never there at all.
Following down the winding path Damian was unhurried, despite the dangers surrounding him at every turn he knew in his soul that nothing they had encountered so far had managed to detect him whilst his aspect was in use. It was truly a marvelous ability to be able to walk side by side with these abominations yet them being none the wiser, if he wanted too he could use this opportunity to take down as many enemies as he could from the comfort of obscurity, yet he was hesitant to do so.
Doing so would alert the undead bastards that the group that had invaded their territory was still in the general area, allowing for more undead to be called to intensify their search, it was only a matter of time until they would be discovered so they had hoped to leave before that happened, if they were forced to fight in such cramp spaces they would surely meet their end right there and then. So despite his burning desire to strike down his enemies and take their soul shards for himself, he knew the risks were too great for him to make a move at this time.
In truth this whole plan of his was simply a means to an end, most of the sleepers had assumed him and Jasper to be the charitable sort, the type who want everyone to become stronger so that they could all survive together, in truth they were only half right. They did want them to grow stronger but only because everyone had a part to play, every person here was an invaluable resource with the myriad of strange and wondrous abilities they all possessed, all valuable cogs in the great machine of survival and warfare.
A chain was only as strong as its weakest link and the same went for an army, the weakest members would drag the strong down with them even if they never intended too, as it was the responsibility of the strong to take care of the weak but if everyone was the strong then the weakest link would no longer be a liability to cover for.
A lot of the camp had believed Jest to be the weakest and unluckiest link of them all, with an ability which was not suited for combat and being the only one of the sleepers to not have gotten any memories during their battles it was no wonder people looked down on the frail man, yet Damian knew better, he had seen the man survive for days on his own, even managing to kill a small handful of creatures with nothing but his bare hands and the tools he had created himself, there was also the look buried deep within his eyes, the look of a killer.
In truth there was no true linked link from the bunch, instead it was more like a weak tapestry, with almost every member of the sleeper invasion force being so dreadfully weak when compared to the likes of himself, Jasper or even Warden, in truth they all needed to be empowered in order to survive this place, or none of them would be making it out alive any time soon.
Arriving at the long street which ran through the center of the town Damian began his scavenge, digging through the decaying carcass of the once mighty enemies they had slain, using the tips of his arrows to dislodge the shards from their resting places when need be. THe level of carnage they had managed to bring was wildly impressive once they had switched to an all out attack and yet many of them still got injured and even if only one or two of them died on the way any loss of manpower was sure to have a noticeable effect on their chances of survival.
Feeling as the sun beamed down on him he couldn't help but notice how strange it felt, he was no stranger to working in this type of weather as he has been doing it for many years as part of his service to his country or even just a few short days ago when he was helping fell the trees for useful lumber but this did not feel the same, the heat and the light were the same sure yet at the same time they felt diminished, as if their very nature was being suppressed or even rejected as it came into contact with his skin.
Not having the time to pay this much mind at the time he hurried up his pace as he had wished to finish his task before the moon started to rise, he would have moved faster if it wasn't for the numerous hounds which were now patrolling the area, sniffing around for any hint of their prey yet unable to get a clear scent.
The beasts were truly beautiful up close, their almost mirror like ornamentation glistened in the sun like glass giving the coat an almost glossy look to its surface and almost strangely adorable as they stumbled around attempting their best yet coming up empty, they were so close he could just reach up and touch them, but he didn't know what that may do as he wouldn't want to risk exposing himself right now.
As he looked over the carnage of the battlefield he studied his treasures as he made his way back up towards his allies, in total he had managed to collect just over forty shards from this trip, in any other situation he would have loved nothing more but to feel the euphoric rush of power rush into his body, the memories of his ascension came to mind as a soft noise left his mouth.
Damian had never before craved power so much in his life yet the euphoric feeling of being rebuilt and empowered had fundamentally changed something in his brain, or maybe it had repaired a part long since damaged, he wasn't quite sure which one was truly the case. Before he knew it he felt that rush wash over his body again and again as he ventured back to his group.
Just before he entered the camp he looked over his spoils one last time, he must have been dreaming before because he had counted over forty shards at the start of the path, but he must have been mistaken as there was clearly thirty or so spread between the bags, lifting one final shard up the thought about just taking one more for himself and yet and decided against it, instead shoving it into his clothes to be used at a later date, he never knew when he would get another chance to chase that perfect sensation.