A.N. Hello Dark Souls community. This is a sort of pilot chapter for a grander story that has been rattling in my brain for a few months now. Getting it all down in writing was pretty fun and as things (hopefully) go on, expanding the narrative should prove to be a challenge and a fun exercise. Anyways let me know what you all think of the first chapter via review and any complaints/questions you may have! On a side note, all reviewers of a current or from previous chapters going forward will be mentioned in the next chapter through a reviewer feedback section of the Author's Note.
P.S. Certain game mechanics and enemy placements will be rearranged/missing from the story for better narrative flow.
Decaying is never a short process. A corpse does not become rotten and fetid overnight, the affair takes weeks to accomplish. The decaying of a kingdom, however, spans decades, centuries...perhaps ages. Hadrian pondered upon this thought for a fleeting moment as he passed the rotting bark of a lifeless tree before dashing it away. Such notions were better left to prattling old men...
Despite his lack of enthusiasm for the subject, he was no stranger to decay, or more specifically the final stage of it: death. The man had been a part of numerous operations in his homeland, the knives strapped to his person and the polished shortsword and dagger sheathed at each hip were a testament to that.
His current destination was swathed in the whispers of rumor and mystery by many a folk. They called the land: Drangleic. The name was not unfamiliar to him but the stories that circulated the supposedly degraded kingdom were not pleasant, and any person with their wits about them would steer clear of such a place.
'Unfortunately, sanity is a rare commodity in these times.' He thought, a humorless grin tugging at the edges of his face, shadowed by the hood of his darkened cloak.
The more fantastical rumors spoke of powerful essences slumbering in the folds of Drangleic and if the legends are true, a way to stave off the curse of undeath.
The curse. Hadrian took a reprieve from his trek through the dense and thick forest to reflect upon the very thing that drove him onwards towards that place. Tales of the undead cropping up not only in his homeland but in far off lands were not uncommon in the hushed whispers of taverns and behind closed doors. It was said people who were branded by the curse were to become mindless husks of their former selves, destined to prey upon others indiscriminately.
The knight raised his head to see the dull green leaves of the tall oak trees, their color in stark contrast with the backdrop of red and orange, signaling the setting of the sun. He was sure that he needed to prepare for camp soon, lest he be subjected to the elements of the cold night. He traveled further through the thicket of tree trunks and foliage until the bitterness of the wind penetrated his attire, a freeze burrowing into his very bones.
Taking up camp around the myriad of trees, the campfire crackled as wood and bark burned in a collected pile. Various sized stones were placed around the fire in a misshapen circle and a roasting skewered woodland creature was perched just above the flames, held up by two wooden posts. As the lone knight's cloudy emerald orbs watched the dancing blaze cook his dinner he excogitated on the forty-three days and nights since his departure. He had traveled westward, voyaging over the mountains in his search. The journey had been rough and perilous but Hadrian knew that he was close, he could feel it in the soil and earth that he walked upon, in the wind that blew like a screeching banshee. Yes, the knight knew that he was very close indeed, the looming atmosphere of what lay ahead acting as a warning to those foolish enough to venture beyond reason and rationality.
The meat of the creature was tough and tasteless, perhaps a reflection of the land that birthed it. If so, did the act of consuming such a creation entail that he too was now a part of the land? Was he destined to decay?
Hadrian knew such troubling thoughts were not to be dwelled upon and so with swift purpose he showered the campfire with dirt and soil until only fleeting embers remained. Clenching his dagger in one hand and wrapping his body in his cloak as best he could, Hadrian leaned against the bark of the nearest tree, the hood of his cloak partially protecting his head from the night. The sound of rustling branches on high, invisible through the dark, pulled the knight into a dreamless sleep and the last sensation he felt was a faint itching irradiating outwards from his left shoulder blade.
The following morning was uneventful, not even the chirping of birds could be heard as the early sunlight bore down on Hadrian, who had just taken the last swig from his metal canteen. He knew not when he would encounter more water but he hoped it was soon, sources of water had been becoming more sparse as of late. Stamping out the campfire and scattering the rocks and burned bark to cover his trail, the knight unsheathed his dagger, making the smallest of markings on the crust of the towering oak tree he had slept under. To the untrained eye it was not even noticeable but to him, it marked the way he had come, in the case of any event that may persuade his advancement. Shouldering the makeshift sack that contained items of a more mystical and miscellaneous nature under his cloak, he continued his journey westward.
It would be well into midday when the sun, in all its fiery glory, began to weigh down upon Hadrian, who was feeling the effects of mild dehydration. His lips were dry and the back of his throat felt like he had inhaled crisp sawdust from a carpenter's workshop. Suddenly, the faint sound of a bubbling stream could be overheard from his own footsteps and a sort of primal excitement gripped the warrior. He rushed past many a tree, the boles becoming chalky brown stalks in his vision as he ran faster and faster. Breaking free from the condensed forest he failed to realize in time the steep decline in elevation and upon losing his footing tumbled down the slope in a most ungraceful manner. Unable to grasp any sort of hand-hold or footing on the smooth rock as he descended, Hadrian stumbled over the edge and landed belly first into a babbling brook of fresh water.
Although the man felt a degree of pain and discomfort from the rocks efficaciously pushing against his skin and the slippery, cool water washing over his frame, he felt a thrill of delight that only came from the discovery of some wholesome necessity to the prolonging of one's existence. Lifting himself up as his expression morphed into one of concealed excitement, the knight moved to grab his canteen when a singular sound stopped him cold.
A snort that was more akin to a grotesque animal than anything resembling a human in origin invaded his ears and quickly thereafter the slow stomping of large feet. The sounds of bespattering water accompanied the noise that prophesied the immense weight and power of a creature altogether exoteric from Hadrian's knowledge and experience.
Raising his head as he established his footing amongst the stream bed, a mixed look of shock and horror were apparent as Hadrian gazed upon a monstrosity much larger than himself. A fat behemoth of terribly large proportions with an agape maw of gnarled rotten teeth and skin a dry bluish green texture, but its most startling and horrific feature was the singular eye that stared unblinkingly at him. Upon its crown jutted a small and stupid looking horn but Hadrian could study the beast's visage no longer for it charged furiously at him, kicking up pebbles and water alike in its wake.
Dodging the monster's lunging grasp narrowingly by a hand's breadth, Hadrian rolled into a crouching position on the bank of the stream, wet mud clinging in clumps to his cloak as he did so. The ogre-esque thing was slow and unintelligent, looking back and forth between its two squat hands, dumbfounded that its prey had eluded capture.
The man knew that now this encounter would be a matter of life and death and in response to the monster's first move, he expertly drew a throwing knife from the many pockets in his leathers, and took aim with practiced form, delivering the blade deep into the ogre's arid flesh. It let out a garbled noise of discontent and turned towards the prey that had dared lashed out in retaliation. The gaze of the cycloptic abomination, Hadrian noticed, had become more hateful with each passing second, its wrinkled brow becoming more and more prominent.
Although the corpulence of the ogre was very evident when it rushed him a second time, the knight found that it was rather quick in its movements and strikes. Dodging under the armpit and brandishing his sword with great dexterity Hadrian tore into its backside, revealing fresh blood and muscle as the blade cut deep along its path.
This time, a massive roar could be heard erupting from the throat of the monster, its rage now apparent to anything that heard the thunderous outcry.
Gaining confidence in his ability to combat his first enemy in Drangleic, the knight drew another one of the many numbers of knives from his person and waited patiently for his adversary to charge him. The ogre, fueled by anger and adrenaline, blindly rushed forward with its stout arms outstretched and three-fingered hands anticipating greedily for the contact of human flesh.
Hadrian relaxed his arm, took a sharp breath and focused completely on the target. He imagined the knife connecting, he could envision his impending victory at hand. With an almost graceful ambulation, the knife flew through the air lodging itself squarely into the ogre's only eye socket.
Another howl from the beast, this time in pain as it helplessly tried to eject the foreign object, failing to grasp at anything with its stocky arms but its own skin. Taking advantage of the opportunity created by his own volition, Hadrian took off in a full sprint, gripping his sword in both hands and just as he was under the shadow of the ogre he leaped with a battle cry and plunged his blade full-force into its neck.
Blood seeped out from the wound at an alarming pace, and the ogre reeled back and buckled under its own massive weight. Now on top of his quarry, Hadrian twisted the blade, cutting the main artery and a thick spray of blood discharged in a gruesome display. A few moments later and all motion ceased from the now dead creature, with Hadrian silently thankful that at least some parts of beast's anatomy were related to mankind.
Dirty, slightly winded, and somewhat bloodsoaked but very much alive Hadrian yanked his bloodied sword out from its latest kill and strolled back to the side of the stream. Cleaning his blade and bathing his muddy cloak in the clear water, the knight reflected upon the rumors of abhorrent and vile creatures and deduced that so far they were not just wild speculation.
His thirst quenched and his metal canteen filled to the brim, Hadrian inspected his knapsack to find that, thankfully, everything was still in useable condition and the more...fragile cargo had not broken.
He glanced back at his conquered foe and surmised that leaving such a plentiful amount of meat would be imprudent, so unsheathing his dagger as he walked over the man gutted and cut out a few slabs of meat to be wrapped up. Taking a closer look at the structure of the ogre's innards, the tough bone formation of the ribcage hinted that its weak points were from behind and the head. Hadrian realized that he had gotten fortunate, and filled the information in case he ever came upon another one of its ilk.
After retrieving his used throwing knives, the man began wrapping the acquired food in his cleaned but damp cloak, where he placed it in his knapsack. The pack bulging as he did so, signaling that its capacity was being overstretched.
With the washing of his bloodied dagger, ranged weaponry and burdening of his pack done, Hadrian turned toward the curved way ahead and followed the path with his eyes, finding that it lead to an enormous tree trunk that scaled the length of the vertical cliff that it rested upon. He squinted his eyes to make out what seemed to be a corner tower to some sort of larger stone structure, however, the tower was blanketed with an overgrowth of vegetation so severe that the constituents of stone were barely visible. The surface of the tree seemed to be a mixture of predominantly rotting white bark with seldom dark streaks of healthy dark brown. Viewing such degradation and neglect revealed to Hadrian that maybe the kingdom of Drangleic was already past the point of rot and decay. Perhaps this land was already dead.