#not sure what kind a creeture to tag this as

[monsterfloofs]

Ignatius Murkia Knellmorne (Dark Spirit x Anonymous Reader) Sfw

(Oh man, this is another beanie that has been in my head for years, if you enjoy the silly kinds of bad guys that run around shouting “fool!” acting like really passionate theater kids, and trying a little too hard to be evil while bumbling in the process, this one's for you! Ignatius is trying his best to have his wicked heart in the right place! :3c )

It’s another day, in Knellmorne castle, you wake up to an explosion that rocks the bed you were sleeping in. The cold stone walls rumbling as dust trickles down onto the floor and your face. You cough and cover your head with your blanket as you roll over to protect yourself from any more debris. You blink your bleary eyes as you scrub the dust away with a corner of your sleeve. Then, sleepily throwing back the blankets you stand up to stretch. Muscles tensing as you roll back your shoulders and arch your back. Before you can finish your yawn you tip sideways as another shudder runs through the castle. You stumble to stay upright reaching to grab a hold of the thick iron chains that hang from the walls.

Another day, another adventure.

Your bedroom was made up of an old repurposed dungeon. One that had been hastily redecorated for your stay. Even one of the older skeletal residents had been accidentally left behind from the move to make the space slightly more homey. Your roommate laid forlornly on the floor, their jaw hanging slack in a scream, or perhaps a yawn? You weren’t entirely sure. You pull yourself upright, and carefully step over the sprawling form. Making your way over to the thick dark bars that made the walls of your new home. As a prisoner of the castle, you had learned that the quickest way to get your freedom was to simply. . . ask the guards not to lock the door. Despite being dark revenant creatures, with shadowy purple bones and grinning ghoulish skulls, you were surprised by the level of hospitality they had shown you in the beginning of your stay.

"His lord has given you more blankets, prison scum, these walls get cold at night,"

"His lord was curious if you enjoyed your dinner,"

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how has your stay been at the dungeon? Is there anything we can do to make it more comfortable?"

You stride through the open wrought iron cell, making your way across the room. The walls lined with rows and rows of wickedly sharp and strange torture devices that gleamed menacingly in the wisps of a strange purple and blue fire light. You reach the huge door that blocks the dungeon from the other part of the castle. Careful to avoid setting your hand on any of the nasty black spikes that were set into the door. You press your weight against the door and it creaks open with a ghastly moan. You find yourself facing a dark hallway illuminated with more sputtering purple torches hanging on the wall with sharp wrought iron fixings. From what you gather, this spectral firelight runs through the entirity of the castle grounds. You peek your head out into the hallway. Looking left then right. Closing the door carefully behind you and tiptoeing stealthily down the hallway.

You have actually escaped the dungeon many times. Typically being caught by the guards you make up the most soppiest story that you could think of on the spot. You felt that you were no great wordsmith by any means. However, your great tales of woe held surprising results. You would watch the dark skeletons dab at their hollow eye sockets, snuffling and blowing into handkerchiefs.

Then you would be scooted out along secret passageways, your captors promised that they wouldn't tell their great and terrible master. As long as you came back, you were free to go. The first time you had done so, it was exhilarating, how foolish they were! You had thought, running over the dark drawbridge and into the forest. More than eager to take advantage of the gullibleness of your keepers. Yet, as your footfalls slowed and you walked the rest of the way towards town, something had tugged at your back. Perhaps your own conscience was making you feel guilty at tricking the guards, who had appeared so distraught by the story you wove.

You had gone into town to buy supplies, and had bought a map to begin your journey home. Yet, against your better judgment you had come back to the castle. Reassuring the guards that your family was well. You had accomplished what you had set out to do, and that it was alright for you to return. If they had let you out, chances are that they would do it again. At least that was what you had initially hoped. Perhaps the next time you make a daring escape, you would be able to come back with a story to tell the local starry eyed children.

One escape became two, then three, then four. Each time the crowd of skeletons waving goodbye to you as you walked away grew and grew. Honestly, it began to make you feel worse about planning your breakouts. You were determined to leave without being caught at the very least. Perhaps then you could leave with a clean conscience.

Now, as you are a seasoned veteran and resident escape artist, you notice the lack of guards at their typical posts. This area is normally crawling with skeletons. You had even been invited to sit down and join their card games on the nights that you couldn’t sleep. Where could they be? Another loud crash makes the stones shudder under your feet. You entertained the thought that perhaps they were dealing with some kind of battle elsewhere. Though the thought made your gut twist uncomfortably. Could skeletons like that get injured?

It wasn't right to hold people hostage no, but from what you had seen of your so called captors, they were really quite harmless. They tried to put on a facade of being these gruesome creatures, but truly their actions gave them away. They didn't have the metaphorical heart to keep you trapped in the dungeon, they even cooked for you. Although. . . you have had to go into the kitchen and make food for yourself. No taste buds meant no way to tell if ingredients were spoiled or not, or even if it was made right at all. You had smiled around too many terrible dishes before you gently prompted the depressed cook to let you make your own meals.

You didn't wish to see them get hurt. Goodness it wasn't above your imagination to think that someone could lie their way in just as you lied your way out. Someone could enter the castle ground just as easily under false pretenses and then begin hacking away at those poor undead creatures. You stop and sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Wrestling with what to do. It was the worst you had seen their security.

"Perhaps I am an even bigger fool than the skeletons," You grumble sulkily, turning towards the source of the noise and confusion.

You would go and see what was causing all this noise. Perhaps there was something you could do. You didn’t have access to a weapon, that was the one thing the residents of castle Knellmourne did seem to be careful with. In your previous escapades through the castle, you had never stumbled upon a discarded weapon that you could borrow for self defense. What were you going to be able to accomplish if you did find out some of them were in trouble? You supposed you would have to cross that bridge when you got there. Perhaps you could go alert the others once you stumbled into more of them. You took one of the large life-sized portraits off the wall to reveal one of the many secret passageways the skeletons had shown you. Following the cacophonous sounds you follow a path through the tunnels of dull flickering torchlight to a place you had never been before.

You peer around a tapestry, into a grandiose circular room with ornate torches of even darker purple fire. More tapestries were hung from the dark stone walls depicting a manergierie of ghoulish creatures and dark spirits. At the far end of the room, embellished by a dark purple rug that trailed across the floor sat a huge throne made of rich blackened wood and carved with many ornate depictions of screaming human skulls. This had to be the throne room of the skeleton's master. They talked about him constantly, Ignatius Murkia Knellmourne. You had never seen the lord of Castle Knellmorne, and honestly you didn’t want to test your luck by running into him now. Thankfully the room was empty, although it made the interior feel even more ominous. As if he could appear at any moment, and the longer you lingered, the greater the risk you took with his remergance. You concluded that this wasn’t where the source of the noise was coming from, and must have taken a wrong turn.

Just as you were about to slip back behind the tapestry, the great dark door across the room burst open. A human figure dressed in blue and silver dove out of the way of a swirling darkness. Their hand touching the ground as they skid to evade the reach of dark shadowy hands. Bright purple eyes flicker to life within the abyss, another figure manifested from the swirling well of darkness. A knight clad in dark armor, some places so black, it looked as if it was forged from the place they had manifested from. Two long twisted black and purple horns curled from the helm they wore. A monstrous sized morning star gripped in their hands.

Your eyes dart back and forth from the dark knight to a heroic looking figure with their sword drawn. The human eyes land on you, their expression going from shocked to outraged.

"Y-You liar! You do have a prisoner!" The human turns back to the dark knight using their sword to gesture at you, and you stiffen.

A deep voice slithers from the depths of the armor. An evil chuckle as violet eyes smoke ominously. "Fool!" The armored being laughs, "Of course I have prisoners! Not that you'll be able to save any of them." He jeers. "It is in your best interest to stop this foolish game, lay down your sword, and perhaps I shall be merciful."

"Well, I hate to bring this up, but your ‘prisoner’ is escaping."

"Uh?" The glowing eyes shift to tiny circles as an awkward silence passes through the room. The figure gestures towards you again, and Knellmourne whips their head around towards you. You give a small squeak as the looming knight appraises you with wide eyes.

"You!" His booming voice intones, "How did you get here!?" Having no plans to answer, you shimmy back through the secret passageway, hearing a snarl behind you.

"You need to keep better track of your hostages, Ignatius!" Laughs the hero's voice, the vocal banter fading into the sound of yet another scuffle. You rush back the way you came, pausing to catch your breath only when you felt you had gotten far enough away.

“Forget the skeletons— they’ll be fine.” You sputter. “If I stay any longer I’ll be mashed potatoes!”

You were still in the winding secret tunnels, and while you had been focused on getting away from the two figures you hadn’t paid attention to where you had gone. While you know the areas that lead to the outside or the staff’s dusty kitchen, this was unknown territory to you. You typically had other thoughts in your mind than wanting to wander around and explore. Also choosing to avoid certain parts of the castle that you deemed too dangerous. Looking down the hallway you tried to remember the layout of the passageways you previously traversed, scratching your head. You had been so careful to remember what turns you took earlier, and you push yourself to try and recall them.

“That way— I. . . think?” You murmur uneasily, letting your hand rest against the wall for support as you begin to tentatively move forward again. Your eyes scan the dimly lit area, looking for any telltale landmarks to help you navigate.

You jolt as your foot steps in something that gives under your weight. Nose wrinkling, and lips spreading into a thin line, you pray you haven’t stepped on any poor critter that was scuttling around the tunnels. Hurrying to lift your foot, you find a mound of strange gelatinous looking black sludge. Your eyebrows lifting, as your eyes slowly move across the floor. There was more of it, and it was ambling towards each other, something dark and shadowy was forming along the floor. Its presence was seeping up from the cracks in the cobble stones. Creeping forward as it became denser and darker.

"Wh-what the–"

You stumble back, as dozens of shadowy skeleton hands shoot from the newly formed swirling darkness. The formless writhing shape began dragging itself towards you along the floor, gaining momentum. You yelp, not needing more encouragement to turn on your heels and sprint through the corridors.

The great shadowy mass began scuttling along after you, its skeletal hands propelling the beast along the walls and ceiling like some massive spidering creature. Another of those strange beings were manifesting themselves to form up in the corner of your eye. The corridors you had walked so freely and with ease had turned into an utter nightmare in a matter of moments. You dove away from one, only to almost throw yourself into another. Your ankle twinged as pain shot down your foot. Ignoring the pain you managed to direct yourself between them. The shadowy beings collide with one another, little fragments of bones falling from the beasts as their forms wobble and disappear.

A moment of breath, before something grips your ankle and you yelp. Shadowy hands rippling and blooming up from the floor as you jerk your leg free. Skittering around the grasping appendages you duck into yet another thin corridor. A crack of light beyond the tunnel now filled with flailing reaching hands. You burst out into the main castle, ramming into one of the full length portraits and falling to the ground. Your hands take the brunt of your fall and sting as they land on the rough stone floor. Scrabbling to stand you watch as the flailing limbs dissipate and seep back into the floor. Chest heaving in gasping breathed as a stitch burns into your side, you let out a half gasp, half incredulous laugh.

How many times had you been bumbling around in those dark corridors without seeing a hide or hair of those creatures? How lucky had you been before? Practically coming and going however you pleased. Nervous glances were cast back at the broken portrait on the floor and the dark chasm in the wall that lay beyond. Unsteadily rising to your feet, wanting to gain as much distance as you could from where you had last been.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to evade the strange beings for long. You had paused for just a second to gain your bearings when hands burst out of the wall beside you. Your turn is just a fraction too slow as skeletal hands grip you. You try to fight them off, thrashing in their grip. Trying to dig your heels into the cracks of the stone floor. You are dragged through a wall that oozes with darkness. One moment you were in the castle hall, next you were pulled into a black void, a chill of wind whistled past your ears causing your skin to tingle with gooseflesh. You resurface in the throne room. Coughing and sputtering, you attempt to tug free of the dark hands that grip your arms.

Heavy slow footfalls cross the room, a figure looms over you.

“Ah, well, well. Here we are again. Long time no see.” Knellmorne spreads their hands in a feigned greeting. The shadowy skeletal hands that were holding you in place withering away.

"Where. . . where did that knight go?" You ask nervously, seeing no trace of the other figure in the room.

"Oh," Knellmourne purrs with venom dripping in their voice, "They are a little. . . shall we say, preoccupied at the moment. We can't have you wandering unsupervised, now can we?" Their smokey cloak of darkness flows in dark pooling waves as he shifts his stance. You turn your head away, expecting the worst.

"Guards!" He bellows, his voice ringing like a toll of death into the rafters above. "SEIZE THEM,"

Silence.

You tense and look around, eyes flitting towards the looming stone doorways that lead into the throneroom. No guards came, nor did the strange shadowy creatures you ran into previously. Knellmourne stays still, their clawed fingers still pointing accusatory at you.

"I said–" The dark spirit begins again, "Guards!"

Nothing.

From where you are standing you can see one of his glowing eyes twitch. You stare at Knellmourne, at this ill placed time, a tickle decides to bubble in your throat. You cough in the empty silence. The effect is very much akin to hearing someone cough in a silent auditorium or a library.

Knellmourne raises up indignantly, "Where are those blasted–" He growls, weapon dropping to his side in a reverberating thud. Your gaze is distracted from the looming figure to a small piece of paper that appeared out of thin air. It flutters through the air before settling gently on the ground in front of you. Your legs bend so that you can stoop to pick it up. While Knellmourne stands with his bulky arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for reinforcements. You look at the post card in your hands, reading the letter.

"They're on vacation."

"What?"

You look up and wave the letter.

"You're guards. They are on vacation. They sent you a postcard."

You stand and take uneasy steps towards the big knight. Handing the rectangular piece of paper to the dark creature. He snatches the paper from you, squinting to read the postcard. On the front in swooping pink letters it read “Fun in the Sun!” And there was the skeletal army in the photo. The few that were captured in the picture were laying on beach chairs wearing sunglasses and floral t-shirts. One was holding up a coconut half that had a little pink umbrella in it.

“Vacation— VACATION?!” His deep voice booms in outrage, you make a wide eyed expression and shrug. How would you have any idea of knowing that? You were supposed to be a prisoner. You watch the great knight’s bluster crumble, sitting down on his ghoulish throne and putting his helmed head in his clawed hands in exasperation. You rub the back of your neck truly unsure of what to do. You reach out a tentative hand, awkwardly patting the shoulder of the monstrous suit of armor.

“I. . . I'm sure you have all sorts of other traps that will catch trespassers." You say, looking around for inspiration. “Like those creepy shadowy things.” Your gaze fell to the grizzly weapon he had tossed aside like it was a toy. "And you still have. . . your morning star."

"I do love my morning star," Came a muffled harrumph. You regret mentioning that immediately, not wanting to become a messy smear across the castle floor, but you continued to try and stay positive.

"You're army won't be gone long I'm sure, how long were they supposed to be on vacation anyway?"

You give a small encouraging smile as the horned helmet swivels to look at you. "You are. . . a strangely kind human, I shall be sorry to have to kill you."

You take a cautionary step back, "But do you actually have to kill me?" You respond earnestly. Someone behind you clears their throat.

“Are you. . . Are you two done?” The hero passes their gaze awkwardly between Ignatius and you. “Is this a bad time. . . Should I. . . come back?”

Knellmourne glowing eyes blink, “Oh, no, no, you are perfectly fine.” He clears his throat politely, his fingers curling into the throne's wooden arms before standing, his cape flaring out dramatically.

The figure looks relieved, "Did you really have to drag me across the castle with those vestiges?" They complained. "It’s a bother to go running around here all the time."

"Yes," Ignatious replies gleefully, picking up their gruesome weapon. "Yes it was very nessicary."

“I think you’re just avoiding the inevitable,” The human snorts, unsheathing their sword.

You scramble out of the way as the two move to close the gap and collide into one another. Knellmourne was incredibly strong, as well as fast, but their small adversary was able to keep one step ahead of them. Tucking and tumbling past the morning star that shook the floor with every hit.

“Hold. Still!” Knellmourne huffed, pivoting on their heels, as the human figure darts around them.

“Hah! You should have picked another weapon!”

There was something that was weird about their fight, something that seemed off. when you saw it again you blinked. Knellmourne was missing, on purpose. It was the briefest of movements, but as the duo turned a certain way you caught it. The dark armored figure aimed purposefully behind the small hero. The slightest of hesitation as he moved, redirecting his attack to be slightly off, leaving the human unharmed. He parried all of the attacks directed at him flawlessly. A surprising deft hand at handling such a large weapon. Yet, when it came time to deliver his own assault, he slowed.

Preoccupied with tracking the smaller figure, the dark knight twisted their body to far to keep up pace with their adversary and accidentally ended up getting their legs tangled. Glowing eyes going round as he off balance and falls to the ground.

"Told you you should have picked a different weapon." The figure goads.

Knellmourne snorts in defiance, before his glowing eyes shift wearily to the blade in the hero's hands. Watching the owner prepare for one final thrust between the dark knights eyes.

You look around for a weapon, grabbing a broom from the wall. As you watch the hero draw back their blade in slow motion. Unlike when you had seen the armor clad lord of the castle fight, you can see no hesitation in the human's eyes. You do, perhaps the dumbest thing you have done during your whole stay at Castle Knellmourne. You take the broom and whack the heroic figure with it.

They lose their balance, and accidentally throw their weapon. Staring at you aghast.

"A-Are you an idiot?"

You wonder the same thing. Your eyes momentarily flickering to look at the broom in your hands.

"I am trying to rescue you! What are you thinking?"

An itch of irritation races up your scalp and your eyebrows furrow. "What if I don't want to be rescued! Actually, who ever said I wanted to be? Maybe I don't need to be! Perhaps I am perfectly fine here on my own."

"But you've been kidnapped?!"

You raise the broom over your shoulder like a baseball bat. "Oh for the love of, I have just about heard enough of that! If I am a prisoner, why am I allowed to come and go when I please??"

The hero takes one look from you to the castle's dark lord who is lying on the floor looking equally dumbfound.

"This place is a madhouse–" The hero breathed, “I’m going to finish what I started, whether you are coming with me or not!” They move to reclaim their sword, fingers just about the grasp around the grip. Then the next moment they were gone. A large dark hole had opened up into the floor and they had been engulfed by the trap door.

You slowly lean over to peer down at the dark abyss that opened up mere inches before you.

"Do. . . I. . . want to know where. . . this goes to?"

Knellmourne rises to their feet, looking all in all, quite cheerful despite their close encounter with death.

"It leads to the castle lake, it's a shallow one of course. Only a waist deep.” He chortles, as if that were the most amusing thing to send hero’s that invaded his home.

"To the lake? Not to some kind of death pit or. . . ? You're not worried they'll finish what they started? What if they come back?" Knellmourne's laughter fills the throne room.

"Heavens no!" The booming voice scoffed, "If I killed my adversaries, I wouldn't have any left! Besides, they can't kill me anyway,"

The great knight lifts up their helmet. Glowing eyes disappearing as little purple ghosts flit up from the armor.

"I'm already dead!"

You stare at the headless apparition. No face underneath the dark armor, heck, there was no head, no neck. Just a ghoulish emptiness.

" I–, " You began, at a loss for words.

"If I took victims they would just hover around here bothering me," His voice echoed eerily from his chest cavity. "I shall avenge my death, you won't get away with this forever, blah, blah, blah! They would be stuck here with me indefinitely, then what would I do?

You blink and think about that for a moment. "You would. . . take over a town I guess?"

"Take over a town." He mused, setting his helmet back onto his shoulders. His eyes flickering to life again, "I do like the sound of that, hah! Perhaps I shall! You can only have so many battles before it all runs together."

Your eyebrows shoot up, not for the first time, and by no means the last. You became an honorary underling of the dark spirit, after that day. There was even a ceremony, with the whole skeletal army when they had returned. They sat in rows of chairs at the celebration. They popped champagne and cheered, the first human amongst their thrall. It was also, as you could imagine, quite unpleasant watching dark skeletons drinking booze. They made an absolute mess of the mess hall and were ordered by an extremely irate dark lord to clean up the spillage.

One of the very first strategic meetings you appeared for, was to discuss your idea about invading and conquering the nearest village. You stood politely amongst the skeleton committee, listening to the banter.

"A whole town is an awful lot my lord," one began. "That would take a lot of planning."

“Perhaps we should start smaller,” another of his skeletons commented.

“S-smaller?” Ignatius stutters, “But I—“

"What about a merchant stand?” Says one, “If you control one of those you’ll surely have your wicked claws in the economy.”

"How about a hot dog cart?" Another pipes up, A murmur of agreement runs through the other skeletons. You bite your lip to stop from smiling, watching Ignatius sink further back into the purple velvet cushions of his throne. A clawed finger tapping against the arm rest as he squints in annoyance.

This surely was going to be a long debate.

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