Carter opened his eyes. He expected to wake up to the small rented room in the Fat Kitty. Instead, he found himself lying atop a hay bed inside a stone room. It was quite dark as there were no windows; the only source of illumination was from several wax candles tucked into sconces inside the walls. There was little to see in the room as besides the bed, it was completely empty of furnishings. Only a single door located on the farthest wall from the bed could be seen.

Carter stood up then examined himself. He wore the same clothes that he had worn to bed that night, which were his bland white cotton tunic and black wool pants. Strangely, he was wearing his boots and the Witch Arm was held in its holster connected to the belt around his waist. He most definitely did not go to sleep with them on.

“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?” He asked himself out loud. His eyes scanned the room, but aside from stone walls and shadows, there was nothing of interest.

He was slightly confused. Usually, he would be dreaming of the black house as well as its creepy inhabitant. Him waking up in this room was new.

Carter walked up to the only thing of interest in the room besides the bed, which was the door. He examined it, noting that it was an ordinary wooden door with a brass knob. It had no etchings upon it, no decorations; it was just plain wood. At least, that’s what he thought. Because of the dim light and shadows, he didn’t notice at first, but as he drew closer to the door he realized something.

It was painted black.

Carter tried the doorknob and it turned easily. He felt relieved as part of him expected the damn thing to be locked. He pushed open the door and stepped out into a hallway. Like the room he had just left, it was made of rough stone, with several sconces containing candles providing the only sources of light. The hall was narrow, roughly eight feet wide. It contained numerous doors like the one he had used. Carter looked to his left and saw the hallway ending in a blank wall. To his right, the hall led further down into darkness.

He noted that his black door was the second on the left side when facing the dead end. The first door on the left was made of the same plain wood, though it was painted white instead of black. The door across from that was blue. The door across from his was orange.

Carter scanned the hallway, spotting more doors along the walls, each painted a different color. Altogether he counted twelve doors, six on each side of the hall. There was a red door. Green. Blue. White. Brown. Violet. Orange. Yellow. Silver. Gold. Gray. And of course, Black. No color was repeated, and all the doors except the one he had exited were shut.

Carter stepped over to the orange door across from him and tried to open it. Unlike his door, this one was locked. He tried several of the other ones, finding that they too were similarly unable to be opened.

He turned his attention to the hallway and eyed the shadowy gloom swallowing up the other end. It looked like there were no sconces of candles further down, or if there were then they weren’t lit. Carter sighed, knowing that unless he wanted to stay in this empty hallway until he woke up then he would have to traverse the dark corridor.

He shrugged, then took a cautious step forward. His hand rested against the grip of the Witch Arm, just in case. Sure, it was only a dream, but Carter would be damned if he became the victim of a jump scare. He always hated those in movies, and this situation seemed like the perfect time for one to happen.

The dark-haired man continued to walk in absolute darkness for several more steps before something surprising happened. In the blink of an eye, the dark, all-consuming shadows around him vanished and he found himself somewhere completely different. Gone was the narrow stone hallway. He now stood upon the summit of what looked like a great mountain. Brilliant stars lit up the night sky and the rocky ground he stood upon dipped down to his left into a sheer cliff face. Skeletal trees were the only life he could see upon the mountain, their thin, unhealthy branches reaching up into the air like corpse fingers.

Carter quickly noticed that he stood upon a path and that it led up higher into the summit. He followed it, his boots crunching down upon the pebbles and stones that made up the terrain. Soon he found himself at the top of the mountain, the path leading to a small grove of skeleton trees. At its center was a massive bonfire, one composed of the remains of what was probably another tree. This one was all but blackened from the flames, but Carter could tell by its sheer size that it was much bulkier than the skeleton trees around him. Probably much healthier, too, until whoever set this fire lit it up.

As he got closer to the burning tree, he noticed that several figures stood around it. The figures noticed him at the same instance, each turning their heads to watch as he approached.

One figure was a giant of a woman. Standing at roughly six feet seven inches, she wore thick leather armor that left her heavily muscular arms bare. She had muddy brown eyes and long auburn hair tied into a braid. Her face was attractive but held a deep scowl as she watched him come closer.

Strapped to her back was a massive greatsword, both its hilt and blade red as blood.

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The second figure was an older gaunt-faced man with graying hair. He was dressed in expensive clothing, with a purple silk shirt and fine black trousers. His light blue eyes zoomed onto him intensely, and Carter felt as if his stare was locked onto his very soul.

In his hands he held a scepter. Its short shaft and spherical head were all made of a dull gray metal. Carter knew that scepters were meant to be ornamental, more a symbol of power than an actual weapon. Yet this one was purely without ostentation. It held no precious stones, nor was it gilded in gold or etched with exotic scenes. Its head and haft were all just plain metal, and a simple gray metal at that.

The third figure stood next to the gaunt man. She was a short, thin woman with dirty blond hair and wore a plain gray tunic with matching trousers. She had delicate features and seemed pretty young. Unlike the others, she had looked away quickly when his eyes met hers.

Like the previous two, she too held a weapon. At first Carter thought it was a simple long staff, but then he noticed the round metal ball hanging off its end by a long chain. Vicious little spikes protruded from the metal ball, perfect for piercing armor. Both the staff and ball were composed of dull orange metal.

The last figure was a tall man in dark leather armor and green cloak. He was about Carter’s real age, though while Carter had been soft and pudgy in middle age, this man was the opposite. Even while wearing full armor, Carter could tell that the man had hard, lean muscle on every limb. His thin face had days worth of unshaven stubble on its jaw, and his hazel eyes were keen, intelligent, and obviously sizing Carter up.

Strapped to the man’s belt was a sword. From the length of its scabbard, Carter could tell that it was a longsword. He couldn’t see its blade since it was covered, but Carter just knew that it would have been the same color as its hilt, which was a drab yellow.

He was beginning to suspect that this whole thing was not a dream.

Carter ceased his approach when he reached the center of the clearing. With the exception of the old man and the girl with the flail, he noted that all the figures stood a good distance away from each other. That meant that they probably weren’t together then, and didn’t belong to any one organization or group.

“Which one are you?” The big woman asked him gruffly.

“What?” Carter asked back, slightly confused at her question.

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed, looking very much frustrated at his confusion. “You new guys are all alike. Dumb as rocks, all of ya.”

Before Carter could retort, the older man piped in. “What the she-brute means, is, which weapon do you hold?” He held up the scepter in his hand, its gray metal barely reflecting the light from the bonfire. “I have Abigail the Ashen. And my niece, Antana,” he indicated the girl standing next to him, “wields Regina the Titian.”

“Oh.” Carter looked towards the giant, then to the man in the cloak. He regarded their weapons, noting the red and yellow metal respectively. So, they were wielders of the Witch Arms, just as he was.

He drew the magic gun from its holster and held it up for all of them to see. “I, uh, have Dorothea the Ebon.”

Surprised looks appeared on all of their faces. The gaunt-faced man and the mercenary-looking one exchanged glances. The young girl looked scared. And the large woman looked absolutely furious.

“No fucking way!” she yelled out. “There’s just no way! I refuse to believe that the Black Knight Dervon was taken out by this wimpy little weasel!”

Carter grit his teeth as he felt a flash of anger flare up. He sent a glare up at the tall woman. “Lady, I’m getting real sick and tired of your mouth.”

She sent a glare back. “Do something about it, then, toad.”

The small flare of anger suddenly became a storm. Carter’s grip tightened around his Witch Arm. He was about to aim it at the arrogant giant when the sharp bark of a voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Enough!” The man in the cloak yelled out. His voice was deep and commanding; whoever this guy was, he was used to giving out orders.

“Stop giving the newcomer grief, Syf,” he told the big woman.

The giant snorted in annoyance, but followed his order all the same.

“And you, newcomer.” Carter almost stood up straight at attention upon being addressed by the man. His voice just reminded Carter too much of the RDC’s that trained him back in Basic. “Ignore Syf’s antics. She’s always like that.”

“O-okay,” Carter said, though it was kind of hard to ignore a giant wall of muscle like her.

“I am Vaco Bardeyn,” the man continued, introducing himself. “And I wield Helene the Xanthous.” He drew his sword, allowing Carter to see its pure yellow blade.

“Laird Veyn,” spoke up the older man. “I hold Abigail the Ashen.” He once more held up the gray scepter. “And earlier I introduced Antana. She has Regina the Titian.”

The girl in question gave a nod in greeting.

“Syfil Raas,” the giant woman said. She pointed a thumb at the red greatsword strapped to her back. “Roseline the Cardinal.”

Carter nodded as he tried to commit their names into memory. Interesting. So all the different Witch Arms corresponded to a certain color. He wondered what that meant.

“I’m Carter Lee,” he said introducing himself. “I have Dorothea the Ebon.”

“Well met, Carter Lee. Well met!” Laird said, a big smile on his face as he clapped his hands. “It’s always a grand occasion when we introduce new blood into the fold. Ha ha.” The man grinned, then held out his hands in a grand gesture, as if he was officiating some type of religious ceremony.

“Welcome to Walpurgisnacht!”