Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons:Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Enough

In a hole in the ground, through a tunnel that seemed to stretch into the depths of the Earth's core, in a lair as ominous and intimidating as the man living inside, was the home of the Boogeyman himself. This subterranean pit with jagged edges jutting from the walls and ceiling, and with colors only ranging from black to very, very dark grey, was the home of the King of Nightmares and the embodiment of Fear itself. This foreboding cavern was the one place where Pitch Black could live, in the closest feeling he was willing to get to peace.

Only at the moment, he wasn't feeling very peaceful. At the moment, he was pacing back and forth over one of the many bridges in the cave, grumbling to himself about the same thing he'd been thinking about for nearly his entire life. The one thought that ran itself through his head like a nail. The question that never seemed to get answered... how to destroy the Guardians.

“They think they're so clever.”, he growled. “North, Tooth, Bunny, Sandman...JACK!", he said, emphasizing his anger in saying Jack's name. "I had them wrapped around my finger this time. What went wrong?” he asked himself. He had driven himself mad with this question every day since his defeat at the hands of...children. “I'm not just looking for belief from children, it's their graves I want. I want to see all five of their carcasses thrown into the jaws of a beast." He grumbled to himself as he stormed around some more, shaking his head.“I can't kill any of them except for Sandman. And I did it, except he managed to come back. But the rest of them, that whole team is...” he stopped himself.

“Team...”he repeated... “Of course, that's what I need. It's what I've needed this whole time! A team of my own.” He chuckled evilly at the idea. “And I know just who to go to to find them.” He waved his arm upward, and with a swirl of black sand, he disappeared.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the forests of Scotland;there was a small hut built into the side of a hill. Nothing too extravagant or spectacular, just a cozy little home for a person to live in. The quiet stillness of the forest was only slightly disturbed by the clonking of wood as the old kindly woman who lived in the cottage hobbled up to the door with a wagon full of logs behind her. She was much older than someone might expect a person living alone in the forest to be. But, she had her reasons. After all, what good is a witch if everyone is able to know where she lives? What sort of mystery would there be in that? She was happily humming to herself as she turned the door handle, and pushed the thin wooden door open, and walked in. It'd been the first time she'd been in her cottage since the previous summer, and she was glad to be back.

“Ah, cottage sweet cottage.” she laughed, setting her cloak on a hook.
“Oh, I see the princess got her message while we were gone.”, she said, observing the empty vials laying next to her cauldron.  “Well, time to restock.” She went back outside, and drug the large wagon of freshly cut logs in through the door. She ran a wood carving business on the side of the whole witch thing. It had much more satisfied customers.

She pushed the wagon back into a far corner of the cottage, and dumped the wood into a pile on the floor. Then she snapped her fingers, and her broom sprung to life, and begun sweeping the dust that had collected over time into a pile. “Please, don't freshen up the place just for little old me.”, said a voice in the shadows.

The witch recognized the voice. She quit humming, and took a gulp. Suddenly she seemed less cheery and more frightened for her life. “Ah, m-mister Black...”, she said, nervously turning around to try and see him. “How nice to eh,... hear from ye again.” she gulped. She scanned the room with her eyes, shaking slightly.

“I'm not here for formalities, you doddering old hag.”, Pitch replied. He emerged from the shadows behind her, making her jump. “I came, because I think it's time the Guardians become nothing but a memory. And to do that, I need a team. We both know that I used to have one, but they were all wiped out. I used a time break to get here, and I know you can tell me where to find another one to go and find exactly who I need."

“Well, eh...” the witch started, trying (and failing) not to panic, “What was the question, exactly?”, she asked, nervously.

Pitch slammed the door, and turned fully on the witch. “You're playing dumb. How cute. But if I don't get my answers from you within fifteen seconds, well... let's just say your business will go up in smoke.”, he said, making a fire out of nightmare sand, and swishing it away. “It's funny.”, he said, looking at the witch's terrified face. “Someone of your species working with such a combustible material. So what's it going to be, witch?' he asked, getting close and looming over her. “Are you going to spill, or will this place have to burn?”

“Alright, alright.”, the witch said, pushing him away. “I do know of one place...but I doubt yer goin' te like who i' leads to."

“You're talking to the king of fear.", Pitch said, smugly. "Nothing scares me."

“OK, OK,” the witch said, backing up. “It's in th' forests o' Germany, and it leads ye to the only person I'd want te be with less than you righ' now. The withes all other witches fear.”, she shuddered, “Mother Gothel.” There was a sudden clap of thunder and lightning outside. “Ah, must be getting a storm.”, the witch whispered, looking to the side out the window.

“Gothel?”, Pitch asked, stroking is chin in thought. “Never thought that wrinkled old skin sack would be good for anything anymore. We used too be the best of friends, you know...some would say, even more than that. She used to be on my team, until...let's just say we haven't spoken since it happened. Well, I helped her find a magic flower to keep herself young. But other than that, we haven't spoken in...well, close to 300 years.”, he chuckled. He looked out the window at the rain was starting to come down. “Well, thank you for your help, I'll be on my way.”

“Eh, I don't suppose ye'd like a spell to enhance yer strength, or perhaps have the knowledge of the universe?”, the witch asked, nervously.
“No thanks. I've heard what happens with your spells.” Pitch answered, walking out the door, “And I'd rather not live the rest of my days as a honey-sucking fur ball. Besides." He brought up an arm, and the shop filled with a swirling mass of black sand. "When I have my victory...", he went on as the sand cleared, revealing he was nowhere to be seen. He finished his sentence from the shadows. "...I want to be surprised."