Left wounded and alone, straight after the Bogeyman's failure, Pitch Black finds himself lost beneath the wasted depths, where far more sinister things, even for him, wait for any passing soul to snatch. However, he finds himself in the company of a...
After being completely thrashed by his own NightMares, Pitch Black slumped in defeat and brooded over himself, ashamed of his downfall, his arrogant vanity besting him. Burning wrath poured in as he remembered the joyous, smug faces of the Big Four. How unaffected they were by his tactics, still uncomprehending how they managed to prevail. 'That child...that accursed one BRAT that ruined everything.'
Pitch winced, the wound in his side throbbed ceaselessly. He couldn't get back to his lair due to his creations dragged him so far deep down in a place he cannot decipher the location. It's a small world- on the surface.
But below it, endlessly unknown.
He had no idea where he was, but he knew it was cold- freezing in fact.
But not the bright, lifting frost, like that from Jack. Not like the insufferably addicting bliss it seeped even into him. No, far more malevolent. Far crueler. Sinister. So much, even he started to fear it. The remaining NightMares that previously turned on him had long faded away, so how could there be anything left to fear? Whatever this sinking sensation was, this sickening coldness- it was unlike anything he ever felt nor imagined to feel.
Yet, at the same, strange time... It was familiar.
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A ghastly moan croaked in the void.
Pitch squinted his eyes, looking all around to find the source. He didn't like that he couldn't even see anything, in darkness that he once thought was his own domain.
Now he felt far too vulnerable, helpless, almost pathetic.
A clanging sound began to ring out in an ominous rhythm. The haunting moan grew numerous to what seemed like a thousand voices, silently crying out their eternal suffering. Louder and louder, the clanging closer, a dim flicker of firelight sparked in the distance. Then another, then another, to what looked to be a hundred...torches?
Pitch could at last finally see it be a mob- of demonic beings he'd never seen before. Small, tall and savage things with bent, bashed faces and crooked teeth. Deformed, twisted beings of malice and torture- the kind even he knew to be of pure evil.
Pitch shot up to run away, but he's surrounded- another bunch blocking his way. Pitch grasped his side- it was hurting again in full swing. The creatures were carrying the torches above their hunched forms, screeching triumphantly at their cornered prey as they moved closer. Pitch fell to his knees, the pain unrelentingly massive.
Suddenly, they and the clanging sound stopped altogether in eerie unison.
...
One drummed her torched staff on the cement floor. Followed by another, then three, four- and the rest.
They began to bang their tall torch staffs on the ground in sync like an old drum. Louder, faster in impatience, as if summoning something from these very fathoms. Pitch was confused but terrified at what was going to happen to him. 'What are they? And what are they going to do?'
Chains SLAMMED the floor, ringing out, silencing the dreadful, acoustic beat.
The gremlins turned at the source of the new sound. Pitch looked up. His golden eyes then widened with terror.
A deep blood red, tattered old robe cloaked its lithe, towering, crouched body that stood on two large, black-stained clawed feet. Twisted, broken antlers crowned its head, poking through the hood, a threatening reindeer skull masked its face.
Pitch didn't need to figure out anymore- he knew who this was.
"K-Krampus?" he whispered fearfully.
A dark, hollow chuckle escaped from the mask's teeth as a long thin, withered and clawed hand shifted it back away to reveal his face.
Pitch swallowed, uneased.
A sickly pale, skeletal face like that of a deformed, decaying man and a dead rotten goat, with a hooked and crooked nose, stuck out from between a pair of hollowed out, barely seen eyes that shined bright crimson from his eye sockets. Long, silver hair weaved into dreadlocks cascaded down from his neck and shoulders. Protruding cheekbones added emphasis to his sunken face save for an inhumanly wide, disgusting, and utterly frightening cracked grin.
Krampus darkly cackled, "Looonng time noooo see, Bogey-man."
