Greetings ladies and gentlemen and esteemed peers! This could be considered my third project and it's an idea I've been mulling over for a while as a Dark Souls adventure/fantasy story in the style of the popular Fantasy novels we all read today. I'll give more detail to the story at the end of this chapter but for now, let's dive on in!
Chapter 1: Awakening
In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and Cold, Life and Death, and of course, Light and Dark.
Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the Flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless night. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Dark Sign.
The Dark Sign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the North, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world.
Only in the ancient legends is it stated, that one day an Undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum in pilgrimage, to the lands of the ancient lords, Lordran.
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Crash!
A simple yet cruel trap, intended for the lone coherent occupant of this Asylum filled to the brim with snarling, unfeeling creatures known as Hollows, undead who have long forgotten their true selves. Though the trap failed in its intended purpose it had; in its path of destruction, reveal a long forgotten cell.
A rectangular room made of brick that had long fallen into disrepair by its dismissive builders with years of rain fall and run off having filled the room in an ankle deep pool of water. Until recently, the cell had been empty, now a lone knight, regally clad in silver armor and his sword and shield not far from his side, has found his final rest in this lonely prison sitting upon a bed of shattered brick and rubble.
'By the gods, it hurts.' He thought tiredly as he starred upward to the hole in the ceiling he had come from. The very spot where that accursed demon had ambushed him. 'It seems this is as far as my journey takes me. Not even in Lordran. Ha! It's almost laughable.'
The young knight was a firm believer in destiny. He believed the old tales of great and powerful lords that lit the flames that began the glorious age he had been born to. Just as he also believed in the prophecies. Prophecies that undead, like he, would one day travel to the land of those Great lords and one of them would be chosen and be privy to a destiny beyond his meager imagination. It was his desire to see the prophecy fulfilled, even if not by his hands. So he set about systematically releasing the undead locked within this accursed Asylum in hopes to find the "Chosen Undead" but as he searched all he found were mindless hollows. Just as he had given up hope to find a single sane occupant within this hellhole, did he hear great stomping footsteps and a massive shadow fall upon him. He had only managed to draw his sword and ready his shield before the demon's hammer come crashing down, momentarily turning his entire world black.
Now here he lay, body broken, insides crushed and his will fading with his life. In the end, his goal appeared to be eternally out of his reach and a failures death would be his legacy.
Rustle…splash!
The knight turned his head to the side at last. Though obscured by the meager sight provided by his helmet, he knew he was no longer alone. Another undead had wandered into his cell, most likely through that massive hole he had been too lost in thought to notice or care about, and was lingering within the doorway and only starring at him, for now. On first inspection, he noticed this Undead to be far better equipped than the rag covered hollows he had released to run amok in the crumbling prison.
He wore a form fitting type of coat that appeared to be made of sturdy looking leather and quilting with matching manchettes, pants and boots. The coat was outfitted with a dark hood that hid the undead's face. Equipped to both sides of the undead's belt, were a pair of long curved blades held in their black sheathes, an impressive commodity considering the most he'd seen the hollows around here carry were broken and dulled blades or worse, just the handles of broken swords.
'So, it seems I am to die by the hands of these wretches.' The knight pondered. 'No worse than drowning in my own blood I suppose.' He would accept his fate. Failure or no, he would not die sniveling and crawling on his hands like a frightened infant. These dregs wouldn't have cared anyway. 'Get on with it then!'
Just then, the sound of stumbling footsteps could be heard and a guttural moan that the knight knew all too well. Yet another undead had come toward the cell, broken blade in hand it howled and charged the hooded hollow as it had hits back turned.
Shing!
In a flurry of movement unbeffiting a soulless corpse, the hooded figure stepped backward, unsheathing its dual scimitars while letting the less coordinated hollow's swing go wide and hit nothing but open air. The hollow recovered from its failed swing and rushed forward again, its tactics unchanged. The hooded undead did not move away this time as it held its blades at the ready. In the instant the ragged hollow brought its weapon down in a stumbling but still powerful downward slash, the hooded undead caught the hollows clumsy attack on the side of its left blade, dexterously twisting and parrying the weapon aside and leaving the hollow momentarily defenseless, which the undead took advantage of. The undead swiftly dashed in, turned on the ends of its heels, twisting around and slicing the hollows head from its neck, cleanly and quickly. The sudden action had disturbed the placement of the undead's hood, causing it to fall back and reveal its owners face for the knight to finally see.
Jet black hair pulled and tied back in a long pony tail. Gruesomely decayed pinkish-red skin, the staple of hollowing. None of these things mattered to the knight as he watched the undead man before him flicking the blood off his blade and deftly return his blades to their sheathes. The undead turned to face him once more and the knight then saw into his eyes. Though they appeared to be eyeless pits with only orange flames giving any indication of their being any life inside them at all, he knew those were not the eyes of any hollow. There was will, life and purpose in those eyes.
"Oh, you…" The knight mustered what strength he had left to find his voice. "You're no hollow, eh?" The undead swordsman shook his head in answer and stepped forward to kneel by the dying knights side, looking him over and understanding he was no threat to him unlike everything else alive in this gods forsaken prison. "Thank goodness…I'm done for I'm afraid." The undead reached out, placing his hand on the knight's shoulders and slowly try to lift him to a sitting position. The knight coughed in pain, blood spouting from the holes of his helmet and the swordsman realized his mistake and ceased what he was doing, gently lowering the knight's head back against the wall. The undead hung his head in apology to which the knight shook his own in dismissal, though he was beyond help he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.
"My insides are damaged." The knight muttered. "I'll die soon…and then lose my sanity." Based on the slacking of the swordsman's brow and the deep frown forming on his hollowed face, the knight assumed his companion was looking upon him with pity, saddened by his plight, which they and all of their kind faced. "I wish to ask you something…" The knight knew beyond possibly opening the doors this undead's cell, the swordsman owed him no actual favor. It was already a kindness to just stop and address him at all, given his poor state. "You and I, we're both Undead…Hear me out, will you?"
"Of course." The undead's voice was solemn but gentle, it reminded the young knight of his father, making him wonder if the swordsman before him may have been older than him, though it was hard to tell with his face as it was. "Speak, friend. Stay with me." He pressed, keeping a firm grip on the knight's shoulder to keep him tethered to life just a bit longer.
"Regrettably, I have failed in my mission." The knight explained, guilt laced in his voice. "But perhaps you can keep the torch lit." The undead nodded, he was listening. "There is an old saying in my family: Thou who art Undead art Chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the bell of Awakening, the fate of the undead thou shalt know." The knight finished his recital, painfully trying to catch his breath over the exhaustive act. His companion said nothing, his expression showing he was currently mulling over the dying knights words. "Well now you know…And I can die with hope in my heart."
"Is there nothing that can be done for you?" The swordsman asked sadly. The knight shook his head in sorrowful answer.
The knight shook his head in answer and then reached for his belt, holding out a peculiar flask that gave off a strangely alluring golden light. "Here take this. An Estus Flask, an undead favorite." 'Though beyond helping me', he thought grimly to himself. The undead took the offered boon without argument though his hand lingered as the knights fell away to retrieve something else from his pouch. "Oh and this." This set of rusted keys had served him well but the knight knew that his new friend was going to need them far more than he did now.
"Now I must bid farewell." The young knight whispered solemnly as he felt his last reserves of strength fading. "I would hate to harm you after death…so go, now…and thank you…"
The undead swordsman lingered for a moment more as he knelt beside the unlucky, noble soul dying in this accursed cell. He pondered for a moment whether he should carry the young knight from this dreaded cell, an unfit tomb for such a man whose potential greatness was so cruelly cut short. But he knew in the end his efforts would only cause the dying youth undue pain and defy his wishes to cause his fellow undead no harm. The swordsman bowed his head in acceptance.
"May flame make your rest comfortable, friend." The swordsman placed a gloved hand to his heart in a respectful nod of farewell. "Sleep well." The undead bid the knight farewell and rose back to his feet to leave. With a final sorrow filled glance back, the swordsman departed, his boots falling heavy on the stone floor.
'Alone again.' The knight leaned his head back once more to stare up at the sky through the hole in the ceiling. That meager light filtering down upon him had been his sole comfort as he first realized his own imminent demise. Now, his heart felt very light indeed. His mission was now in capable, valorous hands. And death truly did begin to feel like slumber as his mind began to drift away and his muscles slacken. 'What a shame. We never even exchanged names.' The knight gave a final sigh as darkness clouded his mind and he felt himself become light, very light. Almost as if he was floating.
"Goodbye, my friend."
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1 Year Later (Knight's POV)
It was such a strange dream. I believed it had to be a dream because it couldn't possibly have been anything else. Why, if it were not a dream, was I starring at my own corpse as if through outward looking eyes?
There my body was; still dead and wearing my armor and equipment. And here I was, starring upon it, though not entirely certain how. I also didn't recognize where we were, me and my body. I assumed we were still in the asylum but not any part of it I recognized. It appeared to be some kind of ovular pit, possibly in some lower reach of the asylum as there were stone support pillars strewn about the sides of the pit. I also noticed that heaps of trash, debris and broken rubble seemed to litter the area. For a sickening moment I pondered whether or not my corpse had just been discarded with the asylum's other trash or unmentionable waste, as I spotted various components of a human skeleton discarded in a far corner. This was definitely not the place I had died.
I suddenly realized that I was being lowered, not by my own will nor did I feel at all swayed by gravity so I wasn't falling. Then why did it seem that some force other than my own was pushing me closer and closer to my corpse.
"Wait! What's going on?" I tried to ask aloud but my words silent, I lacked a voice to speak with. "Answer me! What's going on?! I demanded, still saying nothing. I was so close to my body that I could almost reach out and touch my armor, to feel the familiar cold steel. But the thought felt, alien to me, unnatural. Some part of me felt sickened by the abominable act I feared was about to take place. "Don't put me back in there!" I begged as my world, once again turned black.
And in that black void, I felt it. The suffocation. I could not breathe! I tried to take in gasps of air but I couldn't force my throat to constrict nor could I get any kind of reaction from my lungs. It was like I was at the bottom of some pitch black ocean, my lungs long filled with water that I could not choke out.
'Someone?! Anyone?! Help me!' I called out with my mind.
Then I saw it, a white form, gliding through the dark and coming ever closer to me. So dizzied by my lack of aerobic function, my vision had blurred, obscuring the figures appearance from me in a fog like haze. Only, I felt, I knew that shape. Like an image burned into my mind.
I felt a strong hand take my by the arm and carry me upwards. We climbed, higher and higher out of the dark and then I saw…light! The surface! I have no idea if it helped at all, I willed myself to rise faster, faster! To break free of these accursed waters and grasp life giving freedom.
I realized the figure had suddenly left me, leaving me to float up on my own. My life had been saved. Though I knew not by whom, I felt…oddly at ease, thinking about them. My hand finally broke through the surface.
"GASP!"
Air! Great lungfuls of air! The pain these acts had caused me seemed almost entirely new sensations, or at least ones I had not indulged in a very, very long time. But I was relieved for the pain. Life can exist without the constant reminder of pain, one I was at this moment grateful for.
As I lay; taking in life giving breaths I had long been denied, I slowly began to open my eyes once more. My vision was still blurred, but that's was because I felt strangely exhausted and incredibly stiff. Better to just continue lying here, sleep a moment longer.
"So you live again? Good." A voice I did not recognize. My heavy eyes peered upward to see the figure standing above me, who owned that sinister sounding voice. In my stupored state of mind I could see little, the man speaking to me seemed as a dark shadow, faceless or perhaps masked. "We may have a use for you. For now, let's get you out of this tomb before that thing comes back and undoes all of my hard work."
I felt myself being lifted again, though I could feel hands actually carrying me this time, dragging me from my place of rest. I think I could make out a distinctly familiar set of moans coming from the ones carrying me and I pondered just how many my resurrector had accompanying him. We continued for a while longer, my carriers groaned in struggle as they carried me upwards, I supposed via a ladder.
I soon felt the dreary humidity of the tomb be banished as I felt the sensation of sunlight, shining upon me from on high. We were outside. The company seemed to slow in their pace. We appeared to have reached our destination.
"Leave him here." The dark voice ordered and I was suddenly dropped, unceremoniously mind you. I felt warmth nearby, and heard crackling, like that of burning wood. It was comforting feeling, I felt truly safe in this place, near this familiar warmth and hearing this sound. "Do get some rest, little undead." The sinister voice snickered dropping something beside me that made a heavy clanging noise. "You won't find much rest out there before too long." As I heard them depart, my eyes closed once more and my mind drifted, back to slumber.
Truly it was an odd dream. But I've had worse.
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Hours Later (Normal POV)
"Uunnggh. Hmm?" The knight's eye's slowly opened. His sight was blurry, only for a moment. "A bonfire?" He recognized, feeling the warmth of the precious flames before him. He reached out to see if it was real or another dream and then he saw his out stretched hand, wrapped in brown leather and metal. "Hmm?!" The knight's eyes immediately shot wide open and he pushed himself upwards from his lying position on the soft grass beside the fire.
He looked at his hands then up, to his armored arm and down at his torso and lower body, also covered in armor, his armor. He recognized the blue mantle covering his torso anywhere, a symbol of his rank as a proud knight of Astora.
"I'm…alive?" He asked in disbelief placing a hand to his helmeted face, lifting up the visor and removing one his gloves. Pinkish, human skin. He touched his face, and felt the warmth on his cheeks, the hairs growing on his chin.
"Could it be?" He reached back, placing a hand to his back and feeling around his right shoulder blade.
Pulse!
A cold pulsation, one he was all too familiar feeling. He was still undead.
"To good to wish for I suppose." The knight sighed in disappointment, steadily rising to his feet. "But…it wasn't a dream. I live again!" The knight gripped his fist experimentally and then pumped it skyward, feeling the comforting contraction of muscle.
"Now then, where am I?" The Knight pondered as he surveyed his location. He soon knew he was still in the Undead Asylum. High stone walls surrounded his tiny glade centered by the bonfire. Several doors were located around him. One behind, leading back down to the deeper series of cells if he recalled. He also felt like that had been where he had come from. To the side, an old steel gate, leading to a side passage, possibly made to be a shortcut for those trying to get around the area faster but still needing easy access to the bonfire. (Wow I am not subtle)
And in front, an impressive set of giant double doors, likely heading into some main foyer of the asylum. Seemed the better route to take. As he was making his way from the bonfire his boot tapped against something on the ground. "Oh, can't forget this." He smiled as his hands rested around the familiar pommel of his straight sword. It had been his companion for many a year; forged and blessed in his homeland Astora it was a symbol of his knighthood as much as his armor was. He was relieved to find its sheath still attached to his belt where he returned it to its rightful place of security. The Knight looked around again and a troubled expression crossed his face. His shield was nowhere in sight.
"Blast." He cursed dejectedly. As an Astoran knight, the style of swordsmanship partnered with a shield had always been customary to him. Without it, he felt as helpless as he did without his sword. The knight checked his belt and found his spare blade, a small dagger, better for cutting meat than defending his life but it was better than nothing. The knight checked over his gear once more. Beyond his shield he was missing one more crucial item, his Estus Flask. But that he did not linger on, though he knew he would be hard pressed without it he did not regret parting with it, knowing it must have served its new, capable owner well.
Once he was confident everything was in its proper place, the knight approached the double doors. He pressed both his hands against them, but they did not budge. He pressed harder, pushing his shoulder against the rusted iron barrier, still it would not be passed. "Brilliant." He sarcastically muttered, not sure where to go from there. It was then that he perked up, hearing something from beyond the door. He pressed the side of his head against the door and listened closely.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Crash!
The knight could never forget that sound. Heavy footfalls and the shuddering crash of a falling hammer. He never forgot his encounter with the monstrous demon on the roof, and the events following its fatal blow. The Knight gripped his gauntleted fist tightly around the hilt of his sword and placed the other hand to his midsection, remembering the pain of his insides being turned to jelly after crashing through the roof.
"Haaa." The knight sighed and stepped away from the door, heading toward the side gate instead. Revenge may have seemed satisfactory but he saw no reason to waste his miraculous new life for it. "Let the thing rot in this prison for all eternity. It's time I escaped this hellish asylum." The knight opened the thankfully unlocked rusted gate and looked to the side to find a set of stone stairs heading upwards to which he continued through. (Bare with me for abit guys, you'll get your reads worth soon.)
The knight stopped once he had reached the top of their stairs and surveyed his surroundings again. Another set of stairs were to his immediate right but they appeared to be heading upwards, which he highly doubted he'd find the exit in that direction. Further ahead, he saw an entryway into a corridor that seemed to be heading back down, a bit more promising since he'd at least be back on the ground floor, he assumed.
As he made his way to the entryway he stopped at a faded brick wall that appeared to have a large, destructively created, hole in it. The knight's stomach sank as he peered through the opening, he recognized his place of final rest well. It was like looking through eyes not his own looking at this place. He could almost envision himself in the place of that swordsman, looking upon his formerly sorry state as it sat upon the pile of stone rubble, dying and choking upon his last breaths. The knight shuddered and quickly took his leave of the place, lest he feared he may never leave it. He continued on his way down the slopping tunnel like corridor.
Once he made it down he was greeted with yet another long passage, only this one was exposed to the open sky, and far less inviting. 'Hollows.' The knight cursed as he peered around the corner and saw the pack of shambling dregs, at least five or six of them, adorned in their usual ruined rags and wielding broken weapons, though he cursed as he noticed at least two wielding short bows with arrows notched and quivers on their back.
Normally, one or more hollows could hardly be called threatening, but with their numbers, in this packed area and with two bows trained on him…the knight sorely missed his shield. He then noticed that one of the broken blade wielding Hollows was breaking away from the rest of the pack. The Astroran had no idea if it had seen him or was following some instinctually driven, pointless patrol it had grown into a habit of doing. Either way, it was coming very close to the corner he was standing behind.
The knight unsheathed his sword and waited. Waited till he could practically smell the dregs ghastly breath. The thing had just rounded the corner when he attacked, yanking the thing by the arm and then holding it to his armored frame with the same arm around its neck. The Hollow moaned and growled as it wildly struggled in his grip, desperately trying to strike its captor with its pathetic weapon. If it was doing anything useful at all, it was making a lot of noise, which would surely alert its comrades. The knight put an end to that with a plunge of his sword through the thing's back.
The Hollow went limp in his arms but the Astroran Knight did not remove his grip from its body nor did he remove his blade from its back. It was a gruesome plan he had in mind, not exactly one he considered knightly, but given his situation, he had no right to be picky with his tactics. The knight settled his nerves and tucked his head low as he charged out, into the open hallway with his fleshy shield leading the way. The other Hollows saw him coming and growled in rage as the warriors charged to meet him while the archers took aim.
The arrows were let loose with a sharp "Twang!" as they careened for the charging Undead. As planned, the wooden projectiles thudded uselessly into the corpse of their dead comrade while the knight continued unimpeded in his dash. He heard the other Hollows coming close and he knew that he would have only seconds before the archers were ready again. With a sickening noise, the sword was wrung free from the hollows body as the knight allowed his makeshift shield to fall so he could free up his other arm to grab his knife.
"Hraaaah!" The first Hollow moaned as it came at him with a mighty downward slash, but its sluggish technique and wide path made it all too easy for the knight to deflect the blow off the side of his blade and stab his knife home into the dregs skull, the fire instantly dying in its eyes as he removed his weapon and met the next two Hollows head on. They clearly hadn't payed any attention to what happened to their comrade as they too came at the knight with wide, predictable swings. The knight dispensed with technique and simply stabbed ahead with both his straight sword and dagger, letting the Hollows' momentum do the job for him as they impaled themselves on his blades. The knight allowed both dregs to fall forward as he marched on the two archers who were still trying to notch new arrows to their bows. He wouldn't give them a chance.
With one swift slash to the side with his sword, he splintered both Hollows' meager bows, leaving the aged weapons as useless wooden bits on the ground. The Hollows had barely registered what happened to them when he stabbed his sword home into the chest of one and lobotomized the other with his dagger. All in all, that ended with six dead hollows and the knight standing victoriously unharmed. He sighed in relief as he returned his weapons to their proper place, thankful his skills hadn't rusted after his long "nap".
The undead exited the corridor and found himself in a square room with the majority of the room flooded with water runoff on one side and the other had a dry walkway that led to the exit. The knight sincerely hoped he was close to making his way out of the place. Then he heard it again.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
'Blast!' The demon was also in this direction! On one hand he was thankful that he seemed to be going in the right direction as he must be near the other side of those double doors. On the other, he did not look forward to having to fight that thing again. His best hope would have to be in scurting around it and make for the exit. Just as he had resolved himself to that plan, did he hear a new noise.
"Watch out!"
Crash!
"It's gonna bring the whole asylum down atop of us if it doesn't smash us first!"
Voices, different from the one that had resurrected him and clearly in distress. Whoever they were they were clearly in combat with that thing! The knight rushed out of the room and into a large, rectangular foyer and was shocked to find a gaping hole in what was once a stone floor. Peering down he recognized the dreary basement level pit he had seen in his first waking moments of life. And he could clearly see the bulbous and hideous form of that titanic fiend even from this height.
The knight could never forget that hideously grotesque appearance nor the massive shadow that it had once cast upon him. The Asylum Demon's club smashed down, hopefully trying in vain in squashing some foe unseen by the knight.
"Were not gonna last much longer like this!" A somber voiced man called out from the pit, the knight looked in shock as bright orange light filtered from the pit; he didn't recall the thing being able to spew fire.
"Just keep trying, pyromancer!" Another man, voice lighter and slightly more fearful. The knight gripped his fist tight as he wrestled with the conundrum. The exit, he could see clearly from the doorway of the watered out room, was there before him behind another large set of double doors. But there was the situation before him, a creature he knew from experience, capable of squashing any undead flat with its mighty club like hammer and two of his fellow sane Undead at the demon's mercy and losing ground fast. He had only just been resurrected, should he really risk his life for strangers?
"I got nothing else." The "Pyromancer" gasped in exhaustion, his tone filling with despair. "We're done for."
Those three words rang in the knight's ears as he began backing away from the massive pit.
"I'm done for I'm afraid. I will die soon and then lose my sanity…Regrettably, I have failed in my mission…"
"Not this time!" The knight snarled as his sword sang from being unsheathed so violently. The knight had backed up just enough to gain enough momentum as he dashed in with sword in hand. "Demon!" He called out in challenge as he leaped into the pit, blade held high and poised for the plunge. The towering fiend had only just looked up when the knight dropped down atop its wide shoulders, stabbing his straight sword into the soft spot between the things neck and shoulder. The hideous creature cried out in pain as the sting of steel and the bite of the holy magic imbued into it caused it burning agony. The knight didn't stop there as his dagger flashed out in a flurry.
"Remember me?" The knight inquired mockingly as he stabbed the blade into one of the creatures hatefully glaring eyes. Another cry of pain and the knight took his opportunity to wring his sword free but left his dagger in the fiend's bleeding socket as he leaped down.
The two Undead he had come to aid starred at him in shock. One he recognized by his garb as a student of the magic school's of Vinheim, though he wore black to the school's customary brown. The other must have been the one addressed as a pyromancer and though he didn't dwell on it long, he found the man's odd attire made up tattered cloth with various baubles hanging off it to be quite the sight.
"Stay strong my fellows." The knight addressed them while taking a protective stance between the two and the demon. "None of us are dying here!" He promised though it was more to himself as it was to them.
"I didn't think there was anyone else here. You came at a perfect time, sir knight!" The pyromancer said gratefully.
"Exchange pleasantries later, that things coming back!" The sorcerer warned as the beast began to charge furiously toward them. Each footstep it took was like thunder, causing the ground to shudder. It suddenly leaped up, its tiny wings pumping into the air to provide it more lift. Its massive rear end was hovering above the trio threateningly, and they didn't need to think twice about what was going to happen next.
"Scatter!" The knight ordered as they did just so, he and the pyromancer leaping to one side while the mage rolled to a far corner of his own as the massive demon finally came crashing down with one loud disgusting "PLOP!" that caused the very ground to quake.
As the beast was picking itself up the mage took the opportunity to raise his catalyst, a simple staff of carved wood slightly longer than his arm, and begin focusing. A small gleam of bright blue light built at the tip of his staff's head as he pointed it forward, sending the arrow of bluish energy to impact across the things exposed back. The blast seemed moderately ineffective, in fact it only seemed to make it angry as the demon turned on the sorcerer.
"Oi, a little help!" The mage called to his fellows fearfully as the massive club was raised high. The beast suddenly cried out again, forgetting the cowering mage as it turned on the two Undead who had been hacking away at its backside with their sword and axe. The mage sighed in relief for the opportunity to escape from the trapping wall and strafed to the beast's slowly turning flank as he readied another spell.
The knight and pyromancer backed away as the club came sweeping from the side. The knight held his sword with both hands readily while his companion held his simple wood cutting axe at the ready, though he also wielded a rounded wood shield, against this foe…such meager defense would be as effective as if he didn't have it.
The knight signaled for the pyromancer to follow his companion's lead to which he nodded and began strafing to the demons other flank. Leaving the knight to keep the demon distacted while his comrades readied their attack.
"Here I am, whelp of Izalith!" The knight challenged, slamming his hand across his armored chest to make a racket the thing wouldn't ignore. "Believe me when I say, you're eye won't be all you lose this day!" He taunted while rolling to the side to dodge a club slam. "You were faster when we first met!" He ducked a sideways swing. "Smarter too!"
The Knight's taunts had the demon completely engrossed as it focused entirely on trying to squash the pesky, loud mouthed Undead. It was so preoccupied that it forgot the other two completely. The pyromancer gathered the last remanants of his strength as he hurled a burning orb of fire as wide as his chest at the demon just as his companion blasted the demon with a much stronger arrow of piercing blue energy.
"Gyraaaaaa!"
The beast howled in pain as both heavy spells impacted its exposed flanks, causing it to drop its hammer and pitch forward, falling to its knees from the pain. The knight saw his opportunity and charged forward, his straight sword at the ready.
"Hraaaaaa!" The gleaming metal stabbed into the green, bulbous flesh with ease, the holy element of the steel burning up the demon's insides. "Now were even." The knight stated as he slashed to the side with all of his might, cutting a line across the demon's belly and allowing its ebony blood and unmentionable innards to pour forth, staining the knights armor black.
The Asylum Demon gave one final howl of pain as its body began to crumble apart, dispersing as a massive cloud of ash, leaving the dagger stuck in its eye behind. The knight fell to his knees exhausted as he looked at his demon blood stained sword. Finally, it accomplished what it could not so long ago. That monster would haunt him no longer.
"Are you alright, Sir Knight?" The pyromancer and mage rushed to his side as he rose back to his feet. The knight nodded to them and began working at the straps of his helmet, removing it slowly so he could look at his new acquaintances better. .
The pyromancer he noticed had slightly tanned skin and long dark brown hair he had parted to the side along with a thick goatee covering the lower half of his face. He smiled to the knight in a friendly manner. The mage had short brown hair and a very studious looking countenance. As for him, his companions would have noted his short blond hair, flatly mashed across his head, due to helmet. Though his expression slightly grim it was mainly from exhaustion. Like the pyromancer he also had a goatee, though his was much thinner, practically pencil thin.
"We never expected to find another warrior like yourself here." The pyromancer explained joyously while offering his hand which the knight gladly shook. "I am Laurentius, Pyromancer of the Great Swamp."
"Rickert, magic-smith of Vinheim." The sorcerer introduced. "We can't thank you enough for coming to save our hides like you did."
The knight looked upon his two companions and an odd feeling filled his soul. On his short journey, he had only met one other Undead he could call friend, and just as suddenly these two had fallen into his lap. He had no idea why he had been brought back or what fate had in store for him. But, he knew at least, he may not have to face it alone.
"My name is Oscar, Knight of Astora."
And done! Longer than I'm used to for an opening chapter but I'm pretty satisfied with it. As I said before, this is an original story set after the ending of Dark Souls, and I plan to write it in a fantasy novel style. What that means is that I'm going to try and remove as much game logic as possible. This story is made up almost entirely of npcs of the game with an oc as the Chosen Undead which you already met. Certain characters I will attempt to flush out more, so expect some 'creative adaptions' on my part. Same goes for lore though I will mainly be followed what is established canon, as I said before certain things that need to be flushed out I will take into my own hands.
On to another point. I am starting this at the end of summer but I am not certain how often I will be able to work on the story, it will depend on how well I can adapt to my class/homework schedule. Not to mention I have another story ongoing now currently, technically two but I've pretty much come to a stopping point with the first. So let's play it by ear. Give me your thoughts and questions I will try to answer them either via pm or give general answers next post.
Later, my dear readers!
I do not own Dark Souls (sick of this shit!)