On the grey circular altar of a moonlit field an armored figure stirred from deep unconsciousness. The soft rustle of a gentle breeze flowing through blades of tall emerald grass filled his ears as reality slowly began to set in.
The unforgiving and cold surface of solid grey stone pressed against his face as he lay semi conscious, only the slight warmth of his azure hood provided some minuscule form of temporary relief.
Slowly his eyelids began to crack open and the far away haze of a distant light filled his vision. The light was entrenched between two black masses, a small crack in a large formation of stone. It was strangely beautiful and haunting.
As his eyes slid open completely, he was able to see what his other senses heard and felt.
A moonlit field filled with high grass surrounded him. He was indeed laying on some sort of circular altar. In the distance, completely vertical formations of rocks lined the background.
Slowly he began to rise, his silver armor clanking slightly as he did. As he rose he kept his head turning back and forth to survey his surroundings. A single thought came to his mind.
This was not Ooliciale.
In a slight panic he frantically took in his surrounding.
Moonlit field, tall grass, circular altar.
This was most certainly not Ooliciale.
Then he realized something, without hesitation he began to move his left arm.
A glance down showed it was indeed working, only the armor was slightly damaged.
'How?' He thought to himself.
He stood there in complete silence as he began to absorb everything. The wind then picked up slightly and the tattered azure hood and cape the covering the top portion of his silver armor fluttered. The black plume adorning the top of his helm was also lifted up in the wind.
A slight rustle in the grass signaled to him that he was not alone.
As he began to set his gaze upward, he caught a slight glimpse of his great sword leaning on a nearby column and within hesitation he grabbed it. Curiously his shield was nowhere to be found. The reassuring weight of his weapon brought great comfort to the armored being as he looked up to an approaching figure.
A Hollow.
A Hollow clad in red slowly began to approach him with a sword drawn. A snarl was on it's face.
The man in the azure cape suppressed a snort. A mere Hollow would be unable to harm him. It provided him a brief form of amusement in all his confusion.
Slowly the red clad hollow came nearer.
In a flash of movement, the man in azure struck. A single plunge straight into the chest cavity followed by a quick upward slash bisected the head of the Hollow vertically, leaving a rotting corpse in the grass.
The man kept his gaze on the fallen Hollow before redirecting it to his weapon.
It was a great sword, a weapon that was generally swung with two hands, yet he could wield his with one.
His own weapon could be considered a deadly work of art. The blade was unbreakable and was blessed in the holy flames of his home kingdom's forge. It gleamed silver with a slight tint of blue in the moonlight.
His thoughts drifted back to his current location and he then re found himself in his previous confusion.
In his mind, images flashed in his head rapidly and replayed a single scene multiple times.
The Abysswalker knelt on one knee as he gazed at his impending doom. His armor was broken, his sword nearly corroded, and his pure soul was beginning to corrupt to black. He was finished.
The steady thuds of footsteps followed by as of shaking of the earth beneath. Crimson eyes emerged though the darkness, serving slightly as a light house between the Abysswalker and his doom.
In the very back corners of his mind, the whispers of the taint he dedicated his life fighting began to remind him of his failures.
The images of all those he failed flashed through his mind. Thousands of corrupted citizens, followed by legions of knights clad in silver armor, three of his fellow close friends, two trusted companions, and his lord who ruled the sun. They all looked upon him in disappointment before fading.
Suddenly the thuds stop and the source of his doom looked down upon him.
The visage of a creature snarling down at him in what seemed like smug triumph. It's crimson eyes narrowing slightly as it looked down at its victim.
It knew it had won.
The Abysswalker could only watched as the beast raised it's staff and unholy black energy began to coalesce at the tip of it.
He couldn't move as all energy had been sapped out of him, it felt as if strong arms had kept him root in place. He could only glare back at the creature in defiance before his expression became one of grim acceptance as he watched the staff come down.
Suddenly his vision was filled with a a large wave of unholy energy sweeping toward him. The impact sent him flying backwards and he hit the rock floor with a very audible thud.
His thought drifted back to his friends and he whispered, "All of you, forgive me, for I have availed you nothing."
Then his world faded to black.
Despite all of his ideas, none were able to explain his current location. By all means he should be dead.
With a sigh he tilted his head toward the source of the light.
He had no other choice but to move forward.
In the distance, he spotted a group of hollows clad in the same red uniform that the one killed wore.
'It seems as though they were part of some sort of organization. One that I am unfamiliar with.' He mused to himself.
Upon closer inspection, he notice that some of them had partially hollowed Falcons resting on their forearms.
'So they practice Falconry it seems.'
The Abysswalker was indeed curious, he knew of now organization that made active use of Falconry.
As he drew near them, some predictably charged him and to his surprise some of the Falcons flew straight at. One of the red clad hollows stayed in the back and fired shafts of arrows at him.
Had the Abysswalker been human, he would have most certainly have died. However he was no human, that much was given due to how easily he towered over them.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he began to focus.
Two arrows flying toward his chest in rapid succession. A slight lean back and they sailed right past him.
Three Falcons soaring furiously at his head. He bent his knees slightly and they flew just above his black plume.
Three red clad hollows charging him with their swords drawn. Grabbing his sword with both hands he bisected two just as they came within his range and as the third charged with the intent to hit him after he swung his sword, he raised his leg slightly then delivered a kick that sent the hollow tumbling over the edge of the field. Curiously enough, the Falcons after seeing their masters defeated flew off in the distance.
He them heard the familiar pull of a bow string being pulled before another arrow was sent flying toward him. With a sharp jerk to his left he dodge it, them charged the hollow. Another sweep of his sword ended it's existence.
Victory was his.
The Abysswalker sent another glance to his blade and was again grateful his weapon was not corroded like it had been at the moment of his previous demise.
Turning his head back toward the source of light, he proceed forward again.
Swift movement in the grass caught his attention. To the average human it would have just been a blur, but to him he could easily make out the image of some sort of miniature beast that was smaller than his foot. Curiously enough, some of them stopped to seem to stare at him behind the grass coverage.
They seemed passive and he would have continued to investigate had he not noticed what seemed to be a house carved into a tree further along the path. The soft glow a fireplace seemed to illuminate the windows.
Ignoring the creatures in the grass, he proceed forward. Perhaps he would be able to get some answers now.
His armor clanked heavily as he walked forward. In the back of his mind he was slightly curious on why his armor was still partially corroded, but why his sword was seemingly brand new. He could understand why his shield was missing, he left it with a close companion.
'Sif. Where could you b-'
A glimpse of red interrupted him from his thoughts. On the rock formation on both sides of the small path he walked on, scraps of red seemed to be gather in one spot before the began to form a figure.
The Abysswalker's heart seemed to stop for a second as he watched two crimson figures jump off the small cliffs and into the path in from of him.
A quick glance to his sword confirmed his speculation. His sword had been enchanted many times before to assist in destroying those affiliated with the darkness. His blade was glowing slightly blue as the two being in front of him charged.
A cold fury filled his mind as he swung his blade though the phantoms, ending them completely.
'Darkwraiths! Here?' He thought furiously.
It seemed to him his previous efforts had failed. The one thing he hated constantly was still active or at least their unholy abilities were. He spent centuries waging his own wars against the ones who pledged themselves to the dark, the Darkwraiths.
Entire kingdoms would live in terror as the dark order would spread chaos wherever they went. They wished to bring darkness to the world he loved.
If they were here, he would dedicated himself to destroy them, wherever here was he added silently.
With no one to block his path he went straight to the house.
A small wooden fence surrounded the house, only leaving a small gap in the middle so a person could walk up small wooden steps leading to the door.
Not that it would have mattered, his sheer size made it east for him to step over the fence.
As he stood before the door, he stood there for a moment and took the time to listen for any sound. None.
The door was small and he would have to crouch to enter. Placing his finger on the small doorknob, he began to turn them push forward. A small wave of warmth greeted him as he entered.
It was a single circular room with a fireplace was in the far corner while a table sat in the very middle. In another corner a staircase led to an above floor. A small counter was against the wall and various cooking utensils adorned it.
Three elderly women dressed in burgundy robes and their hoods pulled tightly over their heads watched him enter in silence. One sat next to the burning fireplace, the other two sat by the table.
In the corner, a younger women stood by a counter making tea. Her eyes widen as she watched the gargantuan knight enter. Her hands tightened around the kettle slightly, before she realized it burnt her hand.
The three old women seemed to pause in collective silence and quick glances of their grey eyes were sent between them. They were not expecting him.
Finally one of them spoke.
"An angel has come to grace us with his presence."
Her voice had flickers of veiled amusement present.
"So far away from home." One began, her tone slightly mocking.
A devious smirk appeared on all of their faces.
"A boy who feared the darkness greater than his own lord." The third one finished.
They shared a small laugh.
The Abysswalker clenched his fists and beneath the blackness of his hood, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"I came seeking knowledge of my present location." The Abysswalker asked. His voice was curt and betrayed no emotion. These women seemed familiar with him he noted silently in the back of his mind.
The old women then laughed, a mocking laugh. The one closest to the fireplace then spoke.
"Indeed, the great Knight Artorias is indeed very far from home."