True Strength

by Mason Tims

To keep from going undead, one must possess something. Something more important than steel, and harder than the rock and stone they walk across. Jericho, a knight of old, must quest through Drangleic, gathering allies and foes in an attempt to do what has never been done before: end the curse, once and for all.

1. The Fall

True Strength

The Fall

The lake was as still as death, with only the sound of the paddles hitting the water breaking the silence. It was an unwelcome intrusion, and the forest around the lake seemed to actually grow more menacing the farther the boat went. The moon was out, but it was a strange color; red as blood, giving everything a very ominous, angry hue. Sometimes the moon would be covered by the clouds, turning everything pitch black, including the lake the boat was crossing. What appeared at a distance to be a massive archway changed into a ruined courtyard upon closer examination. The boat was going towards it slowly, turning here and there to avoid various debris in the water. In fact, if one looked at the boats path from above, and used a little imagination, one might come to the realization that it seemed to be like a moth, drawn towards a flame.

The boat itself was old and in dangerously shoddy condition, with water leaking in through multiple sources and the wood seeming to bend from the pressure of the water and the occupants inside. There were two sitting inside, one rowing and the other watching for any obstructions. The one spotting had stood about 5' 8" at the shore, and seemed to have a lithe frame from what one could guess from his baggy clothes. The one rowing was a little shorter, around 5'6", but seemed to be wider and stockier, and he rowed the heavy oak boat without any problem.

Finally, the boat stopped at the stone walkway with a dull thud, further defiling the silence. Once the boat came to a stop, the two figures stepped onto the shore. Neither had spoken to the other in the brief time they had come together for the boat ride. Neither knew the others name, what they hid under their cloaks, or what they were there for. In fact, they literally knew nothing about each other. However, they shared a bond that was stronger than any other.

The Darksign. And with the Darksign, they shared so much more than names. They shared the experience of wandering, of the growing hunger that made it hard to control one's actions without shaking. They both shared the feeling of madness slowly creeping up on them, eating away at their memories, their souls, their very essence, everything that made them human. They even shared the feeling of death, something that only they and the other cursed could say truthfully. In this way, they were closer than any siblings or comrades ever could be.

Facing towards the archway, both seemed to pause, wondering if this was the right course of action. Of course, there really was no other choice for those cursed with that damn sign. The choice was taken from them anyway as the boat started to glide back to its berth at the other end of the lake, unmanned. Neither of them was very surprised.

Both now realized that there really was no going back. Not that either of them would have even if the boat had stayed. Taking a breath, both started to shuffle towards the archway. They were naturally cautious, as the place radiated something that was not quite right, as if it did not belong in the world. They did, however, press on, as they had no choice. Both had heard the stories and had seen hollows, and neither had any interest in becoming the crazed lunatics that they had heard of.

As they passed through the archway into the courtyard, their attention was drawn to the most prominent object in the place: A massive dead oak, easily the largest that either had seen. It was literally crawling with fire flies, a moving carpet covering every branch. The fireflies cast a strange light upon the entire courtyard, making the tree actually seem as if it were glowing. As they reached the center, the clouds passed over the moon, momentarily cutting off it's already rather weak light.

When the clouds passed completely, however, something changed. It was subtle at first, the fireflies taking flight in small groups, seemingly ready to move on to the next tree. However, after a few moments, they all burst into the air, creating a huge drumming noise that vibrated the very stone the two figures stood on.

Buzzing and whirling around the courtyard, the fireflies burst through the archway from which the two figures had come, somehow setting alight the two torches on either side. They spilled out over the lake in the immediate area in front of the archway. As the two figures watched, the fireflies' swirled in the air, creating something that resembled a tornado. And underneath this torrent of insects, the water started to churn and churn until a massive vortex was created. It was so deep and dark, neither figure could see to the bottom, and each wondered what would happen next.

As they watched, a single firefly flew into the great rift, disappearing below. It was a tough choice, to just caste themselves in, giving themselves to the hands of fate.

But, after a moment, one, then the other, jumped in, doing just that.

After all, what choice did they have?

For they were already dead, and this was just their pilgrimage to hell.