Life is an interesting thing. You are born into the world, you get to sample of its pleasure and its horrors, and then you leave. I say leave instead of die, because that is how it turned out in my case. Now, I don't know if this is how it happens to everyone else, or anyone at all, but this is what happened to me.

The best part about getting hit by a train, is that you don't really feel it. You might hear its whistle, smell its smoke, taste the sparks on your tongue. You might even see its golden light frame you in shadow. But when it finally hits you? It feels like a breeze, a gust of wind. And then you feel light. Not in the photon sense, but you, yourself, you feel like a feather. And then everything gets dark.

And this is where I believe things began to change. Because instead of seeing the pearly gates, the fiery office door, or simple nonexistence, I saw a big golden eye.

Now golden is a bit generous, because it was more sickly yellow than anything. And calling it an eye too, could also be erroneous because it had no pupil per say. Just a big black spiral that descended from the eyes edge, to where the pupil should be. However, I knew it was an eye. I could feel it. Feel its gaze, staring at me. If I wasn't already dead I would have found this kind of unsettling. However at the point where I was, I didn't much care. Being dead really chills you out.

And then the eye spoke.

Now of course, the eye itself didn't speak. Just whatever the eye belonged to did. That would be ridiculous, a talking eye. It's not like I was in mordor or anything. And honestly the voice sounded nothing like Saurons constipated screeches. It sounded like the librarian from the library I loved as a child, my grandfather, and my social studies teacher, all rolled into one. It was kindly, soft, and deep. The kind of voice that would put both Morgan Freeman and Sean Connory to shame. The kind of voice that would read a child a bedtime story and have them asleep before they finished the title. The kind of voice you trusted implicitly.

It mesmerized me, which wasn't hard considering my faculties were dimmed anyway. And it spoke at length about things which I honestly can't remember. It's like a dream, where you remember what happened, how and why, but the actual words said always escape you.

It was an offer. The eye was giving me an offer to live again, Or something like that. It knew before I died, that there were things I wanted to do, needed to do. It would give me another chance to experience a kind of joy I was deprived of in my first go around. The eye said I could save people, be a hero. All that jazz.

And I said yes. Who wouldn't? People always spoke of an offer they couldn't refuse, and I always said that such a thing was bullshit. That there was always a catch, and the catch always tainted the worth of the deal.

I really fucking wish I had remembered that before I had agreed.

The moment I had given my assent, the situation began to change. The eye grew brighter, and its pupil began to swirl. I began to feel heavy again, feel alive but something was off. I looked at my arms to see not my own flesh, but dried and shriveled limbs. Like an old corpses. I would have screamed but I was too shocked to make a sound. I then felt a pain on the back of my left hand, and I turned it over to find what looked almost like a cigarette burn, if much bigger in size. A dark spot of flesh, surrounded by what seemed to be a burning ring of flame.

And then came the laughter. I looked up to the eye, and nearly pissed my undead self in fear. Below the glowing orbs, stretching as far as the eye could see, was a grin. A grin housing teeth of insane size and number. All ivory white, and sharp enough to impale the very train that killed me. The laugh was coming from the grin, which moved in time with the noise. The eye however, did not move an inch. Only in its pupil did it shift, as the pupil was swirling faster and faster and faster. I was caught up in staring at it, loosing my sense of everything else around me. Until the voice ceased its laughing and spoke the last words I would hear from it for a long, long time. And the only words from it, that I can remember clear as crystal.

"Your story begins, its time to wake up."

And, like it was a dream, I awoke from death. I had indeed returned from the undiscovered country, from which no weary traveler was supposed to be able. I lived again!...

...somewhat.

If you call life looking like an angry piece of beef jerky with arms and legs, locked in a shitty damp cell with little but the clothes on your back. You see, this is when I remembered my feelings on 'deals you can't refuse' and for the next, hour? day? who knows how long, you lose all sense of time in that place, I raged in futile anger. Anger at being tricked. Anger at my foolishness. Anger at my lack of fucking shoes.

To put it lightly, I was kinda angry.

I tried keeping a score of the days that went by in that cell, using the hole in my roof as reference. However I quickly lost track, and began counting the times any actual change occurred in my situation. That change being rain.

Being the undead abomination I was now, I didn't really feel much physically. My skill was tough and thick, And the dead don't care much about the cold. But the rain? Good god that rain felt glorious. Any time it began to drizzle, id stand underneath my skylight and lift my head and arms to the sky. Almost as in praise to it, as it blessed me with its gentle caress. It soothed the pains I didn't realize I still had, and dripped down my throat with a coolness that relaxed me.
Not that I needed the water, but the act itself of drinking made me feel human again. And I sure as hell wasn't drinking that murky shit leaking into my cell. It would likely kill me. Again.

The best part about the rain, was that It helped me to forget that...mark on my hand. The burning one, that still had fire even after the brand. I didn't know how it was still burning, or why on earth the damned thing looked so familiar. And as long as I was in this damn cell though, with its rusted yet stupidly strong door, it didn't really matter.

Five rains had gone by, and I was waiting for a sixth when something different happened.

Different as in a fucking corpse fell through my window to the heavens, and hit the ground in front of my sitting figure with a loud thump. I didn't scream, I promise you. It was a shout. A manly yell signifying my surprise in a very manly way. Not the shrill scream that echoed throughout the prison. No, that had to be someone else.

My brain, slightly atrophied from undeath and utter boredom, took a moment to realize what was going on and asked a very important question. how did that corpse just fall into my cell? I looked up the ceiling to see a welcome sight. There, at the edge of the skylight balanced a knight in full armor. He was watching me, I could tell by the tilt of his helm. Knowing that I finally had noticed him, he gave a nod in my direction, and pointed to the corpse. That was the first human contact I had had in who knows how long, but before I could let him know of my jubilation he moved out of sight.

Thats when nostalgia, and a powerful feeling of incredulity hit me like the ground had hit the corpse. I quickly looked at my hand, and the name of that damn mark finally came to me, and finally did I realize why it was so familiar. I spoke then, first time since the last rain, and my voice was raspy from disuse. I spoke the name of that cursed brand, with a reverence that surprised myself.

"Darksign..."

...And then my decayed eyeballs nearly popped out of my head as I realized what exactly I just said.

"DARKSIGN?!"

There was no way. No goddamn way in heaven or hell did that damn eyeball send me to where I thought I was. The cell, the knight, the corpse...
I rushed over to the corpse and flipped it over. There, hooked to what looked like the tattered remains of a belt was an old rusty key. I snatched it up with a quickness my dead bones had not seen in some time, and nearly leapt at the gate that sealed my cell. Quickly I found the keyhole, slammed the key in and turned with all my might.

Although to a passing observer, the resulting 'click' probably seemed anti-climactic and completely out-of-place to my dramatic motions. To me however, that click was as loud as a gunshot. If my heart still beat I was sure it would have been pounding. An elation came over me, that I now was free from the cell that had imprisoned me for who knows how long. It was followed by a strange sense of calm. The kind that is associated with familiarity, with doing something done before. Then came the surging rage and disbelief at the confirmation of my suspicion. Two words bounced around inside my skull. Two words that called to life the image of a place, of people, of hours of life spent in a world of make believe. Two words that I knew very well.

"Dark Souls."

The words came out of my mouth with a strange taste. The eyeball had brought me back to a world arguably worse than my own. A world that, while I knew it well, was fraught with danger and death. Madness and greed. And I was brought back as a fucking undead no less, meaning I also had the constant fear of hollowfication hanging like a sword above my head. To lose my humanity and become a stupid zombie that attacked anything that wasn't as corrupted as it, in hope of stealing for itself what it once lost.

But how did this even happen? This place wasn't even real, it was a story, a game played in ones spare time. How was it even possible. Then again, how possible was it to die and meet a glowing eye with big fucking teeth that brought you back to life?

In the distance I heard a loud slam, and it broke me from my thoughts. I was here, in this prison-no. In the goddamn Undead Asylum, and I needed to get out. I needed to get to the damn crow, and maybe find some answers in Lordran. And to do that, I had to get past the big ugly motherfucker at the door.

"Alright," I said to myself and maybe to the cell behind me,

"lets do this."

And then I stepped out of my cell and into the asylum hallway. Only sparing a small glance over my shoulder at the skylight. Hoping to see some hint of precipitation, perhaps as a farewell. With no such luck, I kept walking.

The hallway wasn't very long, and the hollows that lined its side were easily avoided. I knew they wouldn't be strong, but I didn't mess with them. I didn't know how my strength would fare against them. Plus I was weaponless, and didn't relish the thought of killing something with my bare hands. Even if they were technically undead. Massive thumps echoed from the room to my right, where the stray demon kept its angry pace. I spared it a look, and shuddered. In real life it was a truly terrifying creature, and I hurried forward. I didn't think the rusty iron bars and crumbling stone would keep it from tearing me a new asshole if I caught its attention. And thus, I really REALLY did not want to catch its attention.

I made my way through the hallway unmolested, and stepped into the semi-flooded room that followed. I ignored the hollow in the corner, even when its head lifted to face me and the sound of my footfalls. I felt its glowing red pits boring into my back in an unsettling fashion as I climbed the ladder off to the side.
the climb wasn't long, but I was slightly fatigued from it which worried me greatly. I knew just sitting in that cell for days on end had an adverse effect on whatever muscles I had been given after being brought back, but I didn't know just how bad. If just climbing a ladder got me tired, how in the hell was I going to fight the asylum demon?

"One thing at a time." I reminded myself as I looked over the courtyard. The open roof led to a nice view of the cloudy sky, and shed light upon the entire area, which was very welcome after living in a generally dark cell. Across from me were the large doors that lead to the asylum demons choice room. And between me, and my biggest challenge in escape, was the one salvation in this dark world.

The metal spike was tilted slightly to the side, and was badly rusted. Below it were what seemed to be bones in various states of completion. Some were little more than shaped powder, others were in fragments. Only two seemed full and whole, one being what seemed like a femur, and the other being the a skull which stared at me from its place in the pile.

I moved by the unlit bonfire, and stared at it intently, trying to gleam a way of lighting it. I tried placing my hand over it, as my character had done hundreds of times when I played, but to no avail. The skull seemed to mock my effort with a toothy grin, and I shot it the finger. To my immense surprise, the bonfire came alive with a loud 'Whoosh!' of the fire like estus and I fell back, flat on my ass.

I had no idea what caused the conflagration, till my wide eyes fell upon my darksign. The hand in which it was upon was the one I used to give the skull the bird. Perhaps having the Darksign so close to the bonfire awakened it? I had no idea but I couldn't help but to smile at the false fire that emanated from the pile of bones. Such sites had always given me comfort when I was alive. And indeed, anyone who played the game like I had always felt a sense of relief upon seeing that unique creation. It signified both safety, and progress.

I didn't bother standing up, but simply scooted myself closer to the bonfire, and reached my hand to the estus. I watched in awe as it seemed to reach back, and then its began to flow over my fingers and up my arm. It was warm, and felt amorphous. Within moments it had embraced me fully, and then at once dissipated.

It felt absolutely amazing. Like the rain I loved so dearly, only better. It reached every part of my aching body and rejuvenated it, filling it with life and energy. I was still a walking piece of beef jerky, but now I was an energized walking piece of beef jerky. I felt alive again, even if I wasn't truly.

I jumped to my feet, and stared at the big doors that separated me from my foe. I sprinted to them and grabbed a hold of their handles. With a mighty shove, they slowly began to open. I kept pushing. the strain was evident on my face, as they were heavy ass doors, but I was hopped up on my first taste of estus and the doors didn't bar my was for long.

I was there, in the antechamber of the beast. A wide open area, ringed by columns and long since broken pottery. There was a similar door to the one I just overcame dead ahead, but I knew it wouldn't open without the key. To the left of that door, in the corner, was a much smaller door to which I knew I would have to run to once the Asylum demon reared its ugly head.

I cautiously stepped forward, my eyes lifted up to watch the roof where I knew the fat bastard was sure to come. By the time I reached the middle of the room, I knew he should have been there by then. For a brief, foolish moment I entertained the thought that perhaps he didn't exist. Maybe he fell off the edge, or was taking a nap, or-

-or, as the loud fucking crash that came FROM RIGHT BEHIND ME attested to, the Asylum Demon was on the other side of the roof, and had been watching me the whole time.

My first and proper reaction to the situation was to fall to the ground and pretend to be dead, hoping that the demon might assume I had a heart attack from its terrifying visage. Instead, I suppressed that urge and ran like hell to where the door was. Ran to my escape from greasy smeardom upon the brick flooring. Until I noticed that the gate which covered my exit, hadn't raised like it should have. Instead it remained slammed shut, iron bars preventing my escape.

I felt my blood run cold, and a pit formed in my stomach. Behind me came an angry roar that shook my bones, and a series of heavy stomps that rattled the floor. I heard whoosh of wind, and threw myself to the right in an attempt at a roll which ended up with me face down on the unforgiving stone. The area where I was just standing exploded with the slam of the demons hammer, and I scrambled to my feet.

Once I had gotten up, I booked it back the way I came, Ignoring the demon for the safety I hoped resided back in the tunnels. There was no way I could fight that thing, and no way IN HELL I could fight it bare handed. I was better off trying to escape, and finding a way around it.

Again I heard the 'Whoosh' that signified that the demon was swinging and I tried my earlier tactic again. Throwing myself to the right, I hoped to avoid the hammer that would make short work of me. However, the Asylum demon was much smarter than I, or the game, ever gave it credit for as it angled its attack just in case I tried to dodge again.

Pain. Blinding pain erupted from my side as I was hit like a baseball and went flying though the air before slamming HARD into a wall. I could hear the Asylum demon roar as if he just hit a grand slam. The buzzing in my ears was like the cheering of a crowd, and in delirium I started to hum a few bars of 'Take me out to the ballgame.'

I had gotten to the part about rooting for the home team, when the great shadow of the asylum demon fell over my prone form. I tried to lift my head, wanting to stare death in the face this time instead of having him surprise me, but I didn't have the strength. The shadow grew larger, and I imagined what it must have look like. A lone undead, laying upon the ground, bleeding out. A massive demon, standing above him and standing in is as impromptu executioner. Great hammer raised high in the air with grim finality.

This was it. I had died once and was about to die again. Would I rise from the bonfire, like my characters? Would my body stitch itself back together after some time? If I did come back again, would I even be sane? or would I be one of the thousands of hollows roaming this world, my second chance wasted.

I was getting really sick of all these damn questions, and that irritation was what finally gave me the strength to lift my head and gaze at the demon. My face trying to convey the expression that he needed to hurry the fuck up and do what he was going to do.

But the demon wasn't looking at me, he was looking off to the side. I followed his beady eyes to the sight of a familiar knight waving his arms and trying to make as much noise as possible. He was distracting the beast, why? Was he trying to save me?

The asylum demon glanced back at me and, determining that I wasn't going anywhere any time soon, turned his full attention to the knight who I think just insulted both the demons mother, his weight, and the size of his genitals. With another great roar, the beast jumped and flapped his pathetically tiny wings. Somehow they gave him enough of a boost to clear the wall and land on the roof.

By the time he had done so, the knight had already began to run in the opposite direction. Just before he disappeared out of my dimming sight, he turned and tossed something into the room which I laid. Then he was gone, angry ass demon charging behind him.

I followed the thing with the only part of my body it didn't hurt so much to move, my eyes, and I watched as it bounced a few times before rolling to a stop about fifteen feet away from me. It looked like a bottle of some sort. Greenish maybe, but with a glow that made me think of the bonfire I rested at previously.
It clicked in my head what that was, and what exactly that knight had risked. Not just the ire of the demon, but his own life in more than one way. It was an Estus flask, the only container I knew of that could hold the pseudo flames that healed the injured undead and nourished them. Unless he had a spare, he would be unable to heal himself if he got injured. And they were, lore wise, supposed to be pretty rare.

And thus began the most painful fifteen feet of my life. As I began to move, it became apparent just exactly what parts of me were injured, and what was destroyed. All my ribs on one side were crushed, as was the shoulder blade on my right arm. My spine wasn't broken, thankfully, but had been banged so hard that every movement in my lower body sent pain shooting directly into my skull.

In the distance I could hear shouts, roars, and slams that could only be the Knights battle with the Demon. It wouldn't last forever, and while I hoped otherwise, I honestly doubted that the knight could beat the demon alone. He risked himself to save me, and I wasn't ready to die twice. I had to get to the flask. Gritting my surprisingly intact teeth, I tried to ignore the pain and using my good arm, began to pull myself in the direction of the flask.

It seemed to me like it took an eternity. Ever pull dragged the rest of my shattered form against rough and hard stone, causing me to gasp and whimper. After every single pull I had to take a moment to weather the agony. Twice I almost gave up, but then id begin to hear a train in the distance and it would spur me on.

The moment when I finally wrapped my fingers around that emerald flask might have been the happiest in my life. I was crying as I pulled it to me, and forced my body to roll over onto my back. I fumbled my hand around the skinny part of its neck, and lifted it above me. I could see amber fire within it, but it wasn't glowing as bright as It should. It wasn't full, and the thought hit me like a hammer. But maybe, just maybe there could be just enough to get me walking. If so, I could make it to the bonfire just outside, and heal.

I raised my eyes to the cloudy sky in a sort of silent prayer to whoever in this strange world might be listening, before opening my mouth and tilting the flask. The estus that had refused to dislodge itself during the flasks violent transition from the knight to me, flowed like water from the lip of the container and straight into my waiting gullet.

Drinking estus was definitely a different experience from feeling it directly from the bonfire. It was hot, but not to a burning extent. It filled your entire body with heat that spread directly from your core. Its consistency was like egg drop soup. Thick and viscous. And its taste wasn't actually a taste at all, It tasted like nothing. Not like water nothing, but actual nothing. I guess that since it wasn't actually matter, it didn't have a taste. Either way, it didn't stop me from swallowing every last drop of estus in that bottle.

There wasn't nearly enough to heal me fully, but somewhere some god must have been listening, because there was just enough to get me on my feet. Well, one foot anyway. I began to hobble to the bonfire. Suddenly there was a massive slam, harder than all the rest, and I heard something break in the distance. That crumbling sound you hear when you know something just got destroyed. Everything got silent, and I hobbled slowly, listening for any sign of what just occurred. Then the demon gave off the same roar as it did when It defeated me, and the moment I heard it I won the gold medal in the hobblers race.

I just made it out of the doors, when i had to duck to the right underneath the overhang to avoid the horrific demon as it hovered over the courtyard into the room which it had left me prone and helpless. For ten minutes I had to wait as It raged and thrashed about, trashing the room for all its worth, looking for its prize. The bonfire was still in its line of sight, so it wasn't safe for me yet. Only after it had calmed down, did I hobble back to the door to peek in.

The demon was on the roof it was supposed to be when I first had walked it. It was sitting, tiny head leaning forward, its great hammer in its lap. I watched it for a moment, took note of the rhythmic rise and fall of its body, and I let out a breath I didn't know I had held. The demon had tired itself out and was asleep.

Feeling safe-ish, I hobbled over to the bonfire and fell down into its soothing embrace. The estus reached out and caressed me as it did earlier, and within moments I was as good as new, with only phantom pains as a reminder of what I had just been through. I looked at the estus flask in my hand, and saw that it was glowing with the dull golden light I had expected. I slipped it into my one good pocket, and then began to think up a plan.

I couldn't fight that demon, not on my own. And apparently that knight couldn't either, even with all his equipment and training. Together, maybe. but was he even still alive? The demon had obviously stuck a grave blow, or killed him outright. I felt a bit sorrowful at the thought and my gaze hit the floor. If he was dead, he had died saving me. let me tell you, that makes you feel like complete shit. Survivors guilt I think its called.

But he might not be dead, there was still a chance that the knight had survived the strike the demon had dealt. If he had... I looked down to the pocket holding the estus flask, and then to the bonfire to my side. If the knight was still alive, I would save him. Give him enough estus to keep him moving and drag his ass to the bonfire. If he wasn't, well, I still needed a weapon, and armor wouldn't hurt either.

I knew of only one place to start, although if the trend of shit not being where it was supposed to kept up, he wouldn't be there. But its all I had to go on.

Quickly, but quietly, as I was hesitant to make much noise lest I wake the slumbering giant I moved to the outlying wall and the iron gated door. It should have been locked, or at least only operable from one side. However it seemed that the earlier scuffle between the demon and the knight had knocked it loose. Grabbing hold of its rusted iron, I gave it a sharp yank.

The door came free, and was heavier than I expected causing me to drop it with a loud clang. I winced at the loud noise, and became still, listening out for any change in the sleeping demon. I didn't hear anything that sounded like a waking fatass, so I kept moving. Up the first flight of stairs I went, until I was face to face with a large hole in the stone brick wall, and a great Iron ball lodged into a pile of rock right past illuminated by a shard of light.

I looked up the stairs to my right, and saw the hollow that was responsible for the iron ball half crushed under a pile of rubble. Its red eyes were glaring at me, and it vainly clawed in my direction with its one good arm. The same hit that knocked the gate off its hinge must of caused the rock to crush the hollow, and let go of the ball it usually presided over. A strange domino effect, that left my path clear.

There was a flicker of hope in my heart, as I peaked around the corner of the hole. A flicker proved justified, as there laid the Knight upon his bed of stone. He was so still in his armor, I was afraid he might have already died. I took a tentative step forward, and my bare foot splashed in pool of the stagnant water. The Knight stirred, his helmed head rolling slightly in my direction.

Through the slit of his helmet he must of seen me in all my teriyaki-style glory, and he struggled slightly to stand. He was unable in his injured state, and with a sigh let his body go slack resigned to his fate. He must have not been able to recognize me, all things considered I couldn't blame him. I walked until I was right in front of him, and he looked back up. Perhaps expecting the killing blow, but seeing me instead.

"Oh, you...Your no hollow, eh? Thank goodness."

His voice echoed strangely throughout the room, seeming to come from all sides. Actually conversing with someone after so long put a lump in my throat, and all I could do was nod, and say "Yeah."

He seemed relived and let his head rest back

"I'm done for i'm afraid...ill die soon, then lose my sanity. You and I, were both undead. Hear me out will-"

He stopped his speech mid sentence due to a round of horrid coughs that I was sure had filled his mouth with blood by the utter wetness of them. I was by his side in a second, reaching into my pocket with one hand for the estus and lifting up his visor with the other. He weakly lifted an arm to stop me, but he didn't have the strength to hold it aloft for more than a moment. It fell back to the rock with a dull clang.

His visor lifted, I caught a glimpse of blue eyes and a shock of brown hair before I covered it over with the Estus flask. Pouring the healing fire down the Knights throat. His eyes widened, but he didn't fight it. I finally found my voice while he was drinking.

"Sorry, but I can't have you dying on me. There is a big ass demon I think your acquainted with, and I can't beat him alone. Also, i'm sorry for this as well."

He finished off the estus rather quickly, and his eyes grew brighter with life as I pulled it away. He looked confused however.

"Sorry for what?"

"This."

Without much warning, as I knew his bracing only made it hurt more, I slung his arm over my shoulder and stood as quickly as my emaciated legs would allow. He let out a gasp of pain, and I let out one of exertion. Damn bastard was HEAVY, and the armor most definitely did not help. Still I managed to get him to his feet, despite his verbal protests. Supporting most of his weight, I started the long trek back to the bonfire. And while it wasn't actually long, it felt long for both of us. Me because of his weight, him likely from the excruciating pain.

Once we finally got close to the bonfire, down what seemed like an endless amount of stairs that had to be taken one at a time, I kinda just tossed him at it. And by toss, I mean i pushed him forward and let the weight of the armor do the real work.

The knight fell down with a clang and a thump and a groan, and was quickly enveloped in a cocoon of estus. I also sat down by the bonfire. Letting the fake fire rejuvenate me and heal my aching shoulder. As quick as It did for me, the estus worked its magic and the knight was soon sitting up by his own power. He turned to face me, and then realizing that his helmet was full of his own blood reached behind his head and undid the clasps holding it tight. It loosened, he pulled off of his head and set it to his side. His face now fully visible I was able to see his features well.

His hair was a dark brown and cut short, ending just above his blue eyes. His face was younger than I expected, likely in his mid twenties. Still having a youthful look about him, yet having a discipline that probably came from his knight training. His features were nothing spectacular, but id wager they were better than average.

Now that he was able to see me clearly we met each others eyes for what was the first time. It honestly was an awkward silence, as it seemed neither one of us knew where to begin or what to say. Thankfully for me, the Knight broke the spell of awkwardness.

"Thank you...for saving me. I am in your debt, friend"

I couldn't help but to snort. He's the one who let me out of my cell, distracted the demon, and tossed me his valuable estus flask. I shook my head and responded.

"You owe me nothing, Knight. Youve rescued me as well, twice even. If anything I owe you."

He gave me a nod,

"I think Ill call it even then, as I would have had to battle that demon anyway. And if I hadn't released you earlier, you would have been unable to drag me from the jaws of death. Even if my battle with the beast had been on more favorable terms, It most likely would have killed me."

He looked away with what seemed to be a flash of shame in his eyes.

"The beast was stronger than I anticipated, and my arrogance would have been my undoing. As it almost was."

I nodded, and tried not to smile. My brain made a connection between his reaction, and the reaction of many new players of dark souls. The asylum demon tore almost everyone a new asshole, and it seems the real characters were no exception.

My side flared up in a phantom pain, which reminded me of a very important fact. This wasn't a game. This was real, and as the Demon had proved to me, not everything was the same as I remembered. I would need to keep that in mind. People and monsters could be in completely separate areas, and items might not have the same effects as they did. The rusted iron ring for example, invaluable in blighttown, would likely be useless now.

Although I didn't show it on my face, I almost screamed at the thought of blighttown. While the lag wouldn't be a problem, everything else about that hellhole would remain.

I left my thoughts to find the Knight staring at me, an expectant look on his face. He must have asked a question, and was waiting for an answer. I felt my face grow hot, and if it could show color i'm sure it would have been red. Well, redder.

"Ah, sorry, right. I sometimes get lost in my thoughts, could you repeat that?"

He gave me a look, but still repeated himself as per my request.

"I said, My name is Oscar of Astora, Fourth son of the Duke of Arendale. If I may be so presumptuous to ask yours?..."

Oscar! Thats what his name was. For some reason i hadnt been able to remember it from the lore videos. Not the most imspiring name, but it definatly beat calling him the Knight.

"Its a pleasure Oscar. I'm...I'm..."

I hit a wall. Not literally like before, but in a more conceptual sense. I tried to recall my name, but I was unable too. It just kept slipping out of my thoughts, like that shitty metaphor about time and sand and fingers. I had no idea why on earth I couldn't remember, and it troubled me greatly.

"I...I don't know."

My look was haunted, and Oscar picked up on it even with my stunted facial expressions. He didn't seem to surprised by it though, and even said as much.

"It's not surprising, all things considered. Your appearance lends weight to the fact that you are indeed going hollow, as does your...odd diction. Being unable to remember ones name, sadly common for one as advanced in the curse as you."

He gave a grim smile to the look of complete horror upon my face, and let out a small chuckle.

"However, you're in luck that I have a cure. Temporary, yes. But very necessary all the same. Especially if you wish to keep whats left of your memories and sanity."

Oscar reached behind himself into a small bad sewn to his belt pulled out a small black object. It shimmered in his palm, with a sliver lining surrounding a core as black as the abyss itself. I stared at it with wonder, and an odd amount of hunger.

"Humanity. Its its physical state that is."

His voice was soft, and full of wonder. I think he must have desired the sprite as much as I did, despite obviously being less hollow than I was. It seemed that all undead despite their level of hollowfication, craved humanity with a fever.

It took an obvious amount of effort for him to tear his eyes away, and to hold out his hand in offering to me.

"Take it."

I stared at it, then at his face. Which was showing a small amount of strain.

I not willing to lengthen his suffering nor my own quickly grabbed the sprite, and marveled at its feel. Even in my hollowed hands, it felt warm and alive. Moving in place with pulsations and shimmering like a shadow. Knowing what to do, I lifted it slightly above my head, and crushed it.

From between my fingers did come a burst of dark light, and black particles which swooped down and slammed into my chest with force that should have moved me, but that I didn't feel at all. All I felt was a warmness in my heart, that had been cold for so long. A feeling in my chest that, while not completely,smothered the emptiness that had been there since my resurrection.

"I feel...better. More whole."

Oscar nodded in approval, the humanity being already disposed seemed to quench his obvious desire for it. Out of sight, out of mind I suppose. Oscar looked up into the cloudy sky

"When you lose whats inside of you, your humanity, a great emptiness takes root. That emptiness becomes a hunger that, if not satisfied, will consume everything that you are. Only leaving itself, in the shell that once was you. That is what its like to become hollow."

His tone was reverent, and solemn. I wasn't sure if he was speaking from his own heart and experience, or quoting someone long forgotten and dead. It honestly made no difference to me, but the words I would have to keep in mind. Hollowfication in this world was a gradual thing it seemed, and it wasn't just triggered by dying. Although I wouldn't doubt that death would hasten the process exceedingly so.

I looked to my decrepit hands, and while I didn't feel the usual depression or surge of anger at their corpeselike state I still felt dissatisfied.

"How do I become like you? Human again, I mean. While not worrying about the cold is nice, a world not blessed with my dashing good looks is scarcely a world worth existing in."

Perhaps the humanity had restored more of me than I considered, as I found it in myself to make a joke as bad as that one.

Humor must have been sorely lacking in that place, as Oscar shook his head and gave a low chuckle.

"I'm sorry my friend but it would take more humanity than I gave you, and that was the last of the sprites that I found. A cleric would be able to aid you, but I truly doubt that any are present at our current location."

A hollow took this as the proper time to let out a sad moan that was amplified by the acoustics of the asylum, and drifted to our ears.

Dampening that small bit of good cheer that was slowly coming into existence. I took this as the proper time to ask a question that had always bothered me, both now and when I played the game.

"Oscar, why me? Not that i'm grateful, mind you. But why was I the one you saved, and not any others? Surely I couldn't have been the only undead in this asylum that wasn't already insane?"

Well, no more insane than usual.

"Actually...you were. I have explored this prison for nigh on two weeks now, ever since I had escaped from my own cell. I have checked every cell, every decrepit corner of this ruin, searching for someone, anyone else with their wits about them. Anyone else that hadn't gone completely hollow. You were the only one."

His tone was morose, and his eyes were shadowed but he managed to give off a small rueful grin.

"I did find however, plenty of humanity to restore myself."

Well, that answered more than one of my questions. Where he got the humanity, why he freed me, and why he was in the asylum in the first place. Sent her for being undead He had been a prisoner like I was, locked in his cell for who knows how long.

I was getting real sick of this place. Even outside of my cell, the despair was palpable. It seeped from every crack in the stone, and lingered in the air you breathed, With a heave I threw myself up from the floor and the gentle comfort of the bonfire, brushed the dust off of my pants, and reached a hand out to Oscar who looked at me curiously.

"Lets get the fuck out of this hellhole."

He blinked in surprise, and then gave a genuine grin before taking my hand with his gloved one and helping himself up.

"Aye, I am most ready to make this prison but a distant memory, but..."

He motioned to the door and the Demon that was, thankfully, still asleep.

"...We still need to get passed that warden. And neither one of us seems capable of defeating it on our own."

"Good thing there are two of us then."

"True, but you however are hardly fit for combat. No offense."

I gave myself a once over, From my lack of proper footwear to the rags that I called a shirt. The only bit of attire I found decent were my pants, which were...gently used.

"...None taken. However, I don't think it would be wise to fight that thing directly. It's much stronger than the both of us, and smarter than we gave it credit for."

He nodded, and seemed to catch on to my subtle hint.

"A sneak attack then? The idea has merit, assuming that you have a plan?"

"In fact I do, and its rather simple. When you were on the roof, did you notice the balcony that overlooked the room I was dueling with the demon in?"

Oscar gave me a look when I referred to my running for my life, and failing, as a duel.

"I wouldn't call it dueling, but yes I noticed it, if only in passing."

"Good. So here is the plan. Your going to hide on that balcony, and im going to wake the demon up from below. Its going to jump down and try to kill me, but as soon as it lands your going to jump from the balcony and stab it in the head."

While not much in the way of plans, its all I had to go on. We couldn't climb up to where it slept, and even if we did we didn't have a clear shot to its head. We would have had to climb up it, which would no doubt wake it up. This plan was risky, and I wasnt a fan of risking my ass again. But it would possible, and more likely to succeed than anything else. The plunging attack, like every damn thing else, wouldn't be the same but it would be effective. My only fear was that his sword wouldn't be able to pierce the beasts thick skull, but I was betting on the weight of his armor to give it the extra force it needed.

Oscar seemed to come to the same conclusion and nodded his assent, albeit hesitantly.

"Very well. While full of risk, the simplest of plans tend to be the most sound. But before we begin our task, Id like to find you some form of protection. If my strike fails to kill the demon, we will have to finish it on foot. Without a weapon, you would be useless as anything more than a distraction and it might catch on to that. There are plenty of...bodies here that we can pillage. I suggest we spend some time searching, before undertaking our demon slaying quest."

He made a good point, and I wasn't going to argue. Anything that would help keep me alive was a good thing.

"Alright, but we should try to be quick. I have no idea how long it will stay asleep."

"Agreed."

And thus Oscar and I left the bonfire in search of equipment for me to use. We started our search back up the stairs, finishing the still half crushed hollow that had yet to expire on our way. We opened the gate with a key that Oscar had found earlier, and stepped onto an overlook of the outside world. Oscar made short work of the two hollows that joined us, and we searched them for anything of value. From one I managed to gleam a shortsword in relatively decent condition, and the other had a decent pair of boots that I gleefully removed from its dead self. Finally happy to have footwear, I couldn't wait to put them on until I realized that the hollows feet had came off with the boots, and were stuck.

Oscar put a consoling hand on my shoulder as I grumbled about my misfortune and tossed the boots over the edge, into the graveyard. He was trying not to smile, finding my lack of luck humorous.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Was my clever retort.

But in throwing the boots, I took notice of something I had forgotten. slumped against the short wall was a corpse, holding tight something to its chest. If my memory served me correctly, that corpse should be holding either a talisman, or a pyromancy glove. I rushed over to it, in a rather excited fashion, and tore pried its hands open.

To my chagrin, there was not a pyromancy glove, my preferred find. Nor was there a talisman, that while not so useful might have come in handy later. Instead clutched by what was now obvious to me a dead woman, was an old and rather peculiar doll. The doll struck something in my memory, but I didn't feel like wasting time trying to figure out what. For whatever reason I decided to pick the grubby thing up and pocketed it. Perhaps it would be useful later.

Done with my current pillage, Oscar and I rounded and corner and I was thrown to the side as Oscar pushed me out of the way of an arrow. I landed with a thump and an exclamation of pain, while Oscar charged the hollow. Sheild raised, he smashed the poor bastard directly in the chest. Crushing decaying bones, and sending it clear over the edge. I winced when I heard the crunch of its landing.

I got back on my feet using the wall as support and walked over to where Oscar now stood, Inspecting something the Hollow had dropped. It was its bow, and long bow to be precise, in rather good quality too. The wood was marred but undamaged for the most part and the string was barely frayed. It would have been a good weapon, If I could shoot a bow and if the only source of arrows we knew of wasn't currently crushed and out of our reach. Still, I grabbed it and slung it over my shoulder.

Into the next room we went, where their was another hollow laying in wait. However this particular hollow, was different than the previous ones. For one it was wearing armor, even if it was of the shitty variety. Armor was armor. In one hand was a shield, a hollow soldier shield I believe, and the other held a longsword. This is what we needed, a hollow with shit we could actually use. I stood back, While Oscar approached it with the express intent of ending its un-life.

However its outfitting was not the only difference this hollow had with its fellows. As Oscar approached it did not blindly charge, but instead moved forward at a cautious pace. Sheild raised, and sword at the ready. If I had to guess, it might have been on of the actual guards, before becoming as hollow as the rest of the asylums occupants.

Oscar took note of his opponents obvious caution, and took precautions of his own. It wasn't very visible, a shift of a foot, a tilt of his shoulders, the lowering of his visor. It reminded me that Oscar was indeed a knight who had likely trained for years, and indeed had skill in combat.

When your previous knowledge of him was entirely based around him dying every time you started a new character, you tend to forget these things.
The hollow attacked first, with a vertical slash from his longsword Oscar deflected with his shield. Oscar then retaliated with a stab, that the hollow blocked full on with his own shield. Oscar followed up with a kick to said shield, that sent the hollow off balance. However, The Knight had to take a quick step back, as the hollow quickly regained its footing and slashed again, this time at Oscars knees.

Sword met sword as Oscar chose to block this time with the flat of his blade, before spinning around and slamming his shield hard into the face of the hollow who's shoddy helmet flew off from the force and landed with a clang. Disoriented from such a blow, the hollow let out a wide swing that was easily parried by Oscar. The hollow had just enough time to show a hint of surprise on its face, before Oscar plunged his blade deep into its unprotected stomach. With a groan, the hollow sunk to its knees and Oscar pulled free his sword. The hollows red eyes dimmed, and like that the battle was over.

I quickly descended upon the fallen foe, and Oscar assisted me in stripping it of its armor. From it I got a chestplate, some shoulder pads, and gloves that fit rather snug. I traded my shortsword in favor of the longsword as it was in better condition, and I tried to lift the sheild. It came off of the ground surprisingly easy, despite being made fully out of metal and I slipped it over my arm. Still no damn shoes.

Now that I was sufficiently equipped, and since neither Oscar nor I wished to wait any longer than needed we decided it was time. Returning back the way we came, I left him at the entrance to the balcony. No fog wall was present, for which I had honestly doubted that there would be one. Before I left him at his post, he grasped my forearm in what seemed to be the equivalent of a handshake.

"May the Gods favor us in our task."

I assumed the sentiment was similar to 'good luck' and I just nodded. He let go, and Assumed his position halfway hidden behind the wall. I left him there, and made my way back to the courtyard. The closer I got, the more anxious I became. I began to lose confidence in my plan, in myself, and in Oscar. If he failed in his plunge, I wouldn't be able to get away. I would be crushed underneath that giant ass hammer, and then Oscar would follow. My journey would end, right at the start. At the fucking tutorial. Any plans or ideas I had for Lodran would be washed away, like the rain would do to my bloody smear upon the stones.

And believe me, I had plans. I wasn't going to let this life go to waste, not with the knowledge I had. It had already been proven to me that things could change. Oscar had survived his first encounter with the Demon who wasn't where he was scripted to be. Instead of a magic tool thingy, I had found a doll instead. If I could influence these changes with what I knew, I could change the story for the better. Prevent people from going hollow, rescue victims from their fate. I could save them. I could be a Hero.

Those thoughts gave me enough confidence to do my part in the plan. With a deep breath I wasnt sure I needed, and stepped through the threshold that marked the Demons domain. Upon the balcony, I spied Oscar peeking around the corner. I shot him a thumbs up, and he returned the gesture. Knowing what I had to do, I raised my eyes to the sleeping monstrosity, cupped my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice, and shouted as loud as I could.

"HEY FATASS!"