This is mine and Lolliscythe's rp. >>;; No one else's.

Over five centuries ago, the land was poorly developed and the buildings were all made of stone and wood. The continent was divided into three main kingdoms, and out of the three, only one stood the test of time. The king was said to have lived longer than his set age. He was said to have already died once, but there were three guards said to have powers beyond anything, beyond that even of a magician.
The first soldier was the frontline, with speed and strength that of three soldiers. The last line of defense was the most powerful of the three. The first one was named Crea, and was said to have the power of Creation. He could raise a kingdom all his own, and was skilled with the bow and magic. The last warrior was known as Des, holding the very unreliable power of Destruction. It was said he could destroy even the moon. He mainly used a sword that was almost as long as he was tall, and he could imbue any kind of magic on his sword.
They were powerful on their own, but they still had weaknesses.
They wore armor that indeed made them slow, however it covered all their weaknesses. As long as they wore them, they would forever be invincible.
Now, the King wasn't a kind king. He was more cruel than anything. He burned villages when they ran out of food so they wouldn't beg for any from neighboring villages or kingdoms. He constantly stole people from ages ten to over forty, and would send them to the other kingdoms in futile attempts at taking them over.
However, even after all that, nobody would ever challenge him. Everyone knew they would have to fight the knights, and no one could beat them. Even after 1000 years, the king never aged, and never died. Des and Crea went on, even after the original first knight was killed.
After 500 years, everyone knew why the king never died. It was because of Crea and Des. Their combined powers held the king in time. He wasn't strong, he wasn't powerful, and he was slower than the common man. But because of Crea and Des, he ruled and ruled.
It wasn't until one day, a small rebellion figured out how to kill the king. As long as Crea and Des were together and alive, the king would live. If one were to die, or both, then they could be free. So, they gathered many people and sent half to each warrior in hopes to catch them off guard. No one survived against Des, he was too powerful and always alert. However, Crea was taking a bath. He didn't have any weapons, he didn't have his armor. He was vulnerable. They killed him, and Des could hear it. He could feel it.
He ran instantly towards where Crea was, but no one was there, except a headless body.
He mourned, though he couldn't cry or whimper. He knelt there, his face as hard as the stone he was on, until he couldn't just kneel there. He picked the body up and walked to where the king spent all his day. The king was dead, though there was no wound at all. Des didn't even ponder why. He didn't like the king, and he didn't care that he died. He just picked the king's body up and walked out, heading to where all the kings were buried. He locked all three of them in the tomb; he didn't look back as he threw the king into a coffin, not even closing the lid, then laid carefully in a casket, then relaxed beside him, in his full armor and his weapon on his back.
Then he sealed them all in the tomb.
For centuries he lay in there, and slept.

So much had changed in only three centuries. The landscape had evolved, more castles had cropped up, and many revolutions had occurred. England had become modern, and it's people grew out of many phases of life and of their old attire. With this came books chronicling folklore and the people who were interested in it.
That's what led Tamares in his two hour drive to the country with his little brother bopping around in the passenger seat. The ride was short and the scenery was enough to make them both coo in awe. All seemed right until his brother told him that the map they had said he needed to head off the main road. He followed the directions his brother gave him off the laptop sitting on his lap. Minutes of nearly crashing into trees later, Tamares drove them to the ruins of what appeared to be a castle.
"Hey...," the older mumbled as he stared ahead uncertainly. "Do you think this is it?"
His fourteen year old brother gave him a look that revealed just how ridiculous he thought the question was. "Yeah?"
"That's all I need to know...," Tamares mumbled gently. "Let's go."
The two came out of the SUV, Dilan acting overly cautious and immediately running over to grab his brother's hand. Tamares smiled down at him. The two began their investigation of the ruins hand in hand and with Tamares singing to fill the silence.
"Early in the morning, rise into the street, light me up that cigarette, and I strap shoes on my feet. Got to find a reason, reason things went wrong... Got to find a reason why my money's all gone~" Tamares's gentle voice filled the ruins, bouncing off walls people hadn't seen for centuries.

The words of the song echoed along the empty and crushed rock walls.
The once beautiful ceilings and walls were now falling over, many of which covered the floors and stairs that were still standing. The sky was visible, and most of the stones were filled with holes from the weather of many seasons. Moss and plants have taken over, and though many stones were fallen, there were still walls and rooms that stood.
Among the many rooms were the treasure room, the throne room, and the kings' tomb. The conditions were said to be horrid, and that nothing survived, but still people have tried to take what was there and make it their own.
None have survived. The bodies were said to be lost 'til the end of time.
A ghost was said to live there, a demon who devoured all that entered.
The old stones were slick with grime that's built up, and there were many compartments that one could fall into if stepping on a loose stone.
Three floors of destruction, and the last rooms were underground, the throne room, the treasure room, and the tomb.

"Tammy...," his brother Dilan mumbled warily, his eyes almost as wide as saucers. "I'm scared!"
Tamares smiled down at him. "We'll be fine!" he said too cheerfully.
Again, Dilan was looking at him as if he were insane. Tamares giggled, and the younger’s stare worsened. “I think I just saw a spider crawl up the wall! Really! Stop that!”
Tamares tried putting on a straight face, but it turned out as a pout. “Think about it this way,” he said in a mock serious tone, “Would you rather be in the car without me or be in this beautiful–”
“‘Beautiful?!’” Dilan repeated. “The place is falling down!”
“What I’m saying is that I’m attracted to this place’s adventure!”
“And I’m attracted to wooden walls!” Dilan shot back at him.

As the two neared the building, a few rocks from the ceilings fell, smashing into the ground and making a small hole. The wind blew through the holes in the walls, creating a small whistle, but it blew just right, creating a small tune from a few different holes.
The sun started to slide towards the horizon, making the sky a dazzling purple-ish color, with oranges and yellows just surrounding the rest of the sun. If Dilan thought the castle was scary before, the lighting really isn't helping.