As before, I only own a copy of Dark Souls. Not the IP.
Oh, and due to my betas mentioning a few issues with the last chapter that they missed before, I've done a bit of modifying. It's not a lot, but it is slightly expanded. If you haven't, you might want to re-skim the last chapter, but it won't be absolutely needed. Just the first bit really.
Soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain. Even now, there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights.
And amongst the living are seen carriers of the accursed Darksign.
Yes Indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead … It is your fate.
Only in the ancient legends it is stated that one day an undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum in pilgrimage, to the land of the ancient lords…
Lordran!
In the abyss of death, something shuddered, and then sparked into being. A single light burned in the everlasting darkness, and knew that it did not belong. This light refused to be extinguished by deaths embrace, and was empowered enough to fulfill that denial of nonexistence.
What was this power?
Non sentient, the spark in the darkness could not begin to fathom the why of how it could still be, it simply was. Held into being by something as alien to it as the prison in which it existed.
In the land of the living, a crimson spot between the shoulder blades of a dead man that should not have been, sparked into a tiny ring of flame.
The spark reacted, suddenly having purpose once more. That spark twisted, and writhed. In a time that was both mercifully brief, and infinitely long, the soul slipped the binds of death and returned to whence it came.
And once more, the abomination drew breath.
It's a fucked up day, let me tell you.
First off, the only reason why this thought thread didn't start up sooner. I woke up dead at Firelink shine.
You heard me.
It was a peculiar state. I wasn't precisely in control of my facilities, and yet I could still function relatively normally, though higher thoughts were rather difficult, and there was something about the other people I woke up around that drew me to them. Made me want to kill them and take… What? Intellectually I knew –and know now if I'm honest- that I wanted their humanity, but for the life of me (Mental note, find new saying. I don't think this one applies anymore.) I can't seem to really connect with what that means outside of game mechanics.
Food for later thought.
A small spark of what I was, or am now I guess, remained though. From what I've been able to pick up, is that I was a hollow, basically like those ones in the asylum but less atrophied, but still somehow sane. I didn't attack anyone, and I was able to answer questions. Supposedly this was a fairly significant development because I became more or less full hollow, yet still retained enough of myself that I could still function like an unhallowed Undead. Peachy.
From what Oscar has been telling me, the typical way things happen is that once hollowed, a given undead will degenerate rapidly into a mindless monster, with the strong willed and good natured managing simply to remain docile but still subject to the minor issue of being a brain dead fu-
Stopping the tirade now, before it turns into breakdown number seven.
Except for the initial level of degeneration I took in loosing much of that spark that made me, well, me, I didn't change mentally at all.
Eventually I suggested that perhaps it might be best to see if anything could be done about it, and Oscar tracked down a black sprite. After that, they gave it to me, I absorbed it on instinct, and then Petrus did some kind of ritual that reversed my hollowing.
I don't think he thought it would work, because he looked as shocked as I was
After that Oscar started talking and asking questions whose answers all added up to 'Hell if I know' and telling me about Hollows. Couldn't tell you most of what he said, because I wasn't paying attention, instead preferring to try to burn the time I spent as a hollow from my mind.
And that brings us up to the present.
"You are not paying attention to me in the slightest." Oscar stated flatly.
"I picked up that functioning as a hollow is unheard of, that hollows come back to life painfully, incessantly, and several other little things that I already knew." I said equally flatly.
He flushed deeply.
Hah! Yes I saw him blush. He took off his helmet once it the area was deemed sufficiently secure, before I came back to life. High cheekbones, blond, thatch like hair, and green eyes. He might have made a pretty girl if he didn't have such a strong jaw and thin lips.
"If you want to tell me something I don't know, how did you get us here? And more pressingly in my mind, how did you cart me here after scraping my remains of the bottom of that cliff?" Total bullshit about me not knowing; he enlisted the giant bird, but I couldn't have him thinking I could know about things I wasn't alive for.
"The crow was kind enough to bring us." He said simply, then smirked, "And with a bit of nudging flew to the bottom so I could 'scrape up your remains" he made air quotes on the last phrase, using my chosen terminology. He then pointed towards the ruins that served as Firelink shrine, "Our benefactor is perched over there."
I looked over, and my heart stopped (if it was even going in the first place). "That has to be the biggest Gwyn damned bird I've seen in my life" Only expecting it was able to allow me to stay in character and freak out worse than I did.
"Technically you didn't see it during your 'life"
"Hah. Hah. Hah."
The ruins of Firelink were largely made of a yellowing stone that had various mosses and fungi growing on it. The point with the bonfire was a circular area with some stairs behind us backing up nearly onto the cliff on which the shrine was perched. Down those stairs I knew that Anastacia of Astora, our local fire keeper, was residing in a small room with bars which was carved into the wall. The rest of the ruins involved what looked like a dilapidated church.
Our 'benefactor' was resting on one of the walls of the shrine proper, and was easily four times the size of a grown man. It was a damn big bird.
He spoke again, "There are a few others here as you saw." He paused, as if considering something "Now that you are doing better, it might do us good to get you properly introduced.
"Joy."
Oscar frowned "Here now!" he said forcefully "These people are some of the few sane remnants in this forsaken world, Isolating yourself via alienation is far beyond stupid."
I sighed. He was right; I really was going to have to make friends at some point if I wanted a chance. That said I still felt like crap, so I suspect that I am significantly less diplomatic then I should be at the moment.
"Oscar, I might be relatively human again, but I still feel like death. I'll do far more alienating by talking to people right now." I looked him in the eye "Now if you would, go make my excuses, please. I need some time alone to digest what happened." A slight spike of sick humor ripped through me "It's not like death is such a common occurrence for one person they can simply walk it off."
A grimace crossed his face "Though I had hoped that you could be the first." Still though he relented, stood, and picked his way over to where another man was sitting.
Alone with my thoughts once more, I decided to push away the darker ones away while I focused on my game plan for going home.
My throat tightened. All through my stay in the undead asylum, a tiny part of my mind had rationalized that it was all just a long nightmare, and I had accepted that unthinkingly. My -I was about to say untimely, but I suspect that there is no such thing as a timely one for the subject- death shattered those delusions. People woke up from dreams when they died unless it was in a particularly low quality horror b-movie.
Going home was going to be a very long, very hard task and I knew of only four sources that might have the necessary information, or power to get me there.
The first, easiest, and probably most unreliable, would be to use a homeward bone. Not that I think it will be that easy, but it's not like it will hurt to try. And if it works, then hey, I'm back in my world and I have a new horror story to tell.
The second, and my preference, would be the Dukes Archives. There is a hell of a lot of books in that place, so chance are good that at least one of those books might have some information I may find useful. Quite honestly if all else fails I could likely use the Information there and develop my own trans-dimensional spell. Not an ideal method, as I would prefer not to pull a Big Hat, and go nuts due to knowledge overload. Still, none of my options are particularly attractive; this one is just my favorite.
The third is easily the most dangerous and will only be my last resort. Seath the Scaleless is the grandfather of sorcery in its current form, and has been pushing magic to its limit ever since. Much as I hate the analogy, it's quite possible that he'll give me some metaphorical ruby slippers and tell me to bugger off. This also assumes that he doesn't decide that I look better as a lawn ornament and give me a puff of dragon breath for my pains.
The final would be to speak to a Primordial Serpent. Both Frampt and Kaathe have been around for a very long time, and, knowing that I'm not a particularly special snowflake, I am probably not the first person to be displaced into this special hell, nor will I likely be the last. The flipside of this is that both of them have an agenda and will likely have no problem lying through their over sized teeth to get me to forward it. Me having a better than average chance of getting through due to foreknowledge probably won't get past them either.
Assuming that a homeward bone doesn't work though, I'll need to ring both bells of awakening before I can do anything else. The one in the parish will likely be easy enough; I'll just have a chat with my large feathered friend to take me on a trip to the top of the bell tower of the parish. The bell of Blighttown will be much more difficult, to the extent that taking the long way to the Undead Parish might be a better idea. It will be hard for sure, but the practice in fighting will be valuable, not mention the items I could pick up.
…
Or I could have a word with that bird, and see if it would be willing to fly me directly to the Dukes Archives, and skip a good chunk of potentially fatal adventuring.
Spirits somewhat lifted, I stood.
"Maybe I am in a good enough mood to talk to people" I murmured to myself.
I stalked over to where Oscar was chatting with… did any source tell me what his name was? The Crestfallen Warrior I guess. Not that I cared, he wasn't going to last to much longer in any case, so I'd best not make any real connection to him.
The chainmail wearing man paused in his conversation to look at me, and then pointed "It looks like he is willing to talk with the rest of us after all."
"I just decided to stop being a crybaby and man up" Not precisely true, but he didn't need to know that. "After all, doing nothing is just an agonizingly slow way to end it. I'd like to think I have bigger stones then that." I managed to keep the accusing note that wanted to creep in to my voice out. It wouldn't do to blow knowledge another of my aces by letting Oscar know, that I might know something that I shouldn't know yet. That and I was keeping what he had mentioned about alienating people and not doing so in mind.
Not that it would have mattered, because the dig had no effect but to elect a weak smile. "Slow it may be, but how many times do you think you could go through dying before those stones vanish with your humanity?" he gave a cold humorless chuckle.
I ignored him, largely because he had a point and I had no witty riposte. How many times couldI die before I completely lost it? Pushing that thought into the depths of my mind with all the other depressing, unhelpful ones that threatened to crush what little resolve I had, I turned to Oscar, "So what were you talking about?"
"Largely how it is suicide to try and ring the bells" he emphasized the plural "There is one up in the parish and another down below in a place called 'blighttown'." He sounded grim.
"Sounds like fun times," my tone was dust dry. I looked at the man in chain, "Wanna come along for the ride?"
Mr. Crestfallen looked shocked, appalled, and a little sick "I would rather die again then venture into that hive of sickness and rot!"
I nodded "Fair enough, I'm going to have a word with that massive crow actually, and see if wouldn't mind taking me to the Dukes Archives near Anor Londo." Seeing the blank look on both their faces I continued "It's an absolutely massive library amassed by Seath the Scaleless, and a treasure trove of ancient texts I'm sure." Telling them my objective didn't seem like too much of a risk. Oscar 'knew' I was something of a scholar, so my wanting to get to the biggest concentration of books probably wouldn't seem that unusual. That same scholar background ought to keep them from questioning how I knew about it in the first place.
Oscar shook his head "I can already tell you that the crow will probably not accept your request." He pointed up to the upper most reaches of the ruins, and on closer inspection, I realized that he was pointing at the birds nest. "The only reason it traveled as far as it did was to move its eggs from the Asylum to here at Firelink, Probably in the event that demon got loose and trampled, or ate, its children. I was lucky it decided to bring me along," he poked at me "and you were lucky that I could persuade it to go down so I could retrieve your remains."
And my terrible mood returned. This time more tempered with anger rather than despair though the latter wasn't far behind. It must have shown on my face because the crestfallen warrior smirked "Looks like it wasn't bravery that motivated you after all."
"No." I admitted sourly after a moment, "No it wasn't. Yet a minor setback like that isn't going to stop me from going-" I cut myself off. I had about said 'home'. That would have been bad.
Oscar looked somewhat saddened, "Well seeing as how I need to ring the bells, I guess we will be parting ways shortly."
That look on his face made me feel guilty for some reason. I didn't know why, we had only known each other for about twenty four hours total, If that, so it's not like we had time to form a meaningful emotional attachment.
Did he actually expect me to help him on his quest?
Still, whatever I wanted, we weren't separating yet. Mostly because that damn door to Sens Fortress wouldn't open until both bells were rung, so I guess I was going to have to help him. The alternative was striking out on my own when he inevitably got killed and drained of humanity by Quelaag.
Assuming that the homeward bone thing doesn't work. Need to keep hope after all.
"No, actually, we won't" I assured him, and his eyes lit up. That made me feel even worse. Somehow. "The road to Anor Londo begins at the parish. Undead from the burg over there" I pointed at the town on the cliff, "would start their pilgrimage by getting a blessing from their priests, then travel to Anor Londo from there."
My little lore moment was most likely complete BS, but it sounded good, and was met by Oscar's thoughtful nod.
The Crestfallen warrior just gaped at us. "You two are seriously considering this?" He said slowly. "You might be able to ring one up in the parish, but Blighttown?" He shook his head, "Impossible."
We both leveled a stare at him, and I felt an irrational spike of fury run through me. I slammed my control down on it before it got out of hand. He had a point. No matter what happened, this was going to be the epitome of suck. So what did every impulse running through me scream 'kill him for doubting you!'? Even ignoring how it was a bad idea to attack people in general, attacking someone much more skilled then me bordered on suicidal.
I felt Oscar's gauntleted hand firmly grip my left hand, which I only realized that my left hand was slowly going to my sword on the same side. I stilled it myself, and his grip fell away. Irrational rage broke, and made way for fear. What was wrong with me? I may have joked about killing people before, but I had never made any moves to actually do so!
The crestfallen warrior, unlike Oscar, had missed the movement and was still waiting for our response.
"Be that as it may be." Oscar said firmly, "Things are only going to get worse until someone does something about it." He looked at me, keeping his face carefully neutral "You mentioned something about having some geographical knowledge of Lordran?"
I nodded in response, not trusting myself to do anything else.
"Then we need to make plans." He turned to walk back over to where we had been sitting before, and I followed woodenly.
Once we were out of earshot, he looked at me and hissed "What the name of the twelve gods do you think you were doing."
I swallowed, "I-I don't know. I just felt angry, but there was no purpose behind it." I dodged his eyes "I swear, that has never happened before."
"I see," he nodded slowly "I will have a talk with Petrus later, and I shall see if he knows why you acted so irrationally." He sighed, "Not that I expect him too. Undead returning from being hollowed is rare. I've never heard of it in fact, but the simple matter of Petrus knowing a ritual that does just that, suggests that it's not unheard of."
He sat down, and I followed suit.
"Now, we truly do need to discuss our plan here." Oscar finally said, "My first impulse would be to travel through the burg, and collect what supplies we can. The after we ring the bell, you tell me the about Blighttown the best you can, then we go our separate ways. I'll go down to Blighttown through the burg depths, and you can make your way to the Dukes' Archives." I guessed that the Crestfallen Warrior was somewhat forthcoming with the general geography that he knew, and told Oscar.
I considered that. It sounded good on paper, but I knew that Sen's Fortress would not open before both bells were rung, and getting through it besides would require me to be much more comfortable with my weapon then I was right now. There was also the matter that I highly doubted that I could take on the snake men within even if I was as skilled as Oscar was. Skill only did so much, and the snake men were massively strong. So I needed an equalizer. If I remembered right, and if nothing threw me for a loop, there would be one right beneath a giant parasite in Blighttown. The trouble was getting to it, and getting back safely.
I had a plan slowly begin to take shape. Yet before I could really do anything about it, I had to get some fighting skills.
"It's a good plan." I said, "And if I thought that I was up for taking on the dangers that would be on the way to Anor Londo, I'd say we go for it." Now for the brutal truth, "But I'm not. I'm not sure I'm even up to where I was before being dropped into the Asylum, physically, despite the Estus at least making me healthy again. I know also know I'm not emotionally up to scuff at the moment. That debacle with that pessimist proved that."
Oscar pursed his lips, and was silent for several long moments. "Have you heard of soul reinforcement?"
I prevented myself from betraying myself with shock, and just slowly shook my head. I was positive that that would have fallen purely under game mechanics, so I hadn't even taken it into account. This changed allot. Hell, this changed everything!
"When an Undead strikes down another creature, the Undead gathers essence from it. We call this essence, souls, though that is not precisely correct. It is more like the energy that holds a soul to this plane." He paused to make sure I was following. "We can absorb, and release this energy freely. However, when at a large concentration of Estus; usually a bonfire, it is possible to use this energy to strengthen one's self." He gave a wry grin "This is primarily why it is used as a currency among undead as well."
"I see" So basically same way it was used in game. Huh.
"Now the ways that one can reinforce one's self varies. You can enhance you physical strength, which would allow you to wear heavier armor, and swing your weapon harder. It will also increase your running speed, and the amount of weight you can lift. Think of it like building up your muscles, though it does not grant the durability to them if they over extend themselves.
Then there is your physical durability, which effects your rate of healing, your tolerance to toxins, as well your ability to survive and recover from injury. It effects also to some degree how long you can exert yourself before exhaustion. It will not make you able to carry more weight, yet it will let you carry it longer, and more comfortably.
Your control over your body, which includes reaction times and hand eye coordination. It also affects your senses slightly as well. Many mages say that doing so increases the rate at which you can think, though I have not noticed it myself. This is useful for to make it easier to control your enhanced strength, though do keep in mind that it will not grant you the skill to use the control correctly. That you must earn on your own."
He frowned "And lastly is your… spiritual essence. This is something very difficult in increase without souls, as it requires much mediation. The long and the short of it is that it is the wellspring of power that a sorcerer or a cleric draws upon to cast their spells, or use their miracles. You do however need to be able to comprehend the arcane arts you are manipulating, or have the faith that your miracle will succeed, and no reinforcement will make you more intelligent or more faithful." He chuckled "I've never had the faith to do anything but seek guidance from my gods."
"That…would probably help" I murmured softly. After a moment I went on more normally "Of course it doesn't solve the more immediate problem I have with this emotional."
"Indeed" Oscar stood, "I shall go and speak with Petrus. Just… Stay here, and try not to interact with anyone while I am gone. Do not go exploring or trying reinforcement either. Without knowing what is going on…"
"I'm a danger to myself and others, so it would be best if the problem was kept manageable." A bitterness that I felt I had every right to feel pervaded my voice.
He flushed "I did not say-"
"Just… Go. Talk to Petrus. Let's get this issue solved." I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.
I heard him walk away, and kicked myself. My only kinda friend here and I was treating him like crap. I'm such a wonderful person.
Still. Having some alone time was something of a blessing. I've never been a social person, and just being around people for any real length of time was, and still is, enough to sour my disposition. I'd like to think that it was merely that, being amplified by high stress that was doing this to me, but for some reason I doubted it.
Ok, I'm a smart guy, let's work backwards. When was the last time I was relatively like my normal self that was after I was dumped in the asylum?
Right before we descended that chain.
When was the first time I was more irrational then normal?
Right after I woke up from my dirt nap was the worst, but it continued well after Petrus re-humanized me.
A vision of a black sprite danced tauntingly through my mind and caused my eyes burst open. Humanity. I had no humanity. I kicked myself. Of course humanity was the issue; people in the game explicitly killed each other over it and I highly doubt that that would be the case unless it was more important than looking good, and getting more stuff.
Obviously simply being a human wasn't enough. You needed more of it to be human. Good thing to file away. I also resolved to collect as many of the sprites to hold on to as I could. Worse came to worse, I'd guess humanity could be used just as easily as souls for currency. That solved, I turned my attention to other matters. Like the mechanics of this world.
What in the Dark Souls game world was legitimate, and what was just game mechanics? Doors opening from one side was obviously a game mechanic, as were the impassible rubble piles. Humanity was legit, and reinforcement existed, if in a slightly different form.
Vaguely I wondered how magic and attunment slots worked, and ditto for the "casts per day" type mechanic. It would probably be a good idea to figure that out, as I never was a natural athlete and truth told I would prefer to stay away from the swords and demon claws of my potential enemies. Of course the concept of killing things with the power of my mind was quite an attractive concept too. I resolved to rescue Griggs and Big Hat if at all possible. Laurentus as well. Heck, especially Laurentus. Pyromancy would serve even better as it didn't require anything but a Pyromancy Flame. Maybe. I'd need one for Power Within anyway.
I shook myself out of my reverie at returned my attention to game mechanics. I haven't seen a fog door yet, so likely that was just a mechanic. Covenants are likely legit, which meant that I should keep an eye out for Darkwraith, as the limitations of invasion and warnings were most certainly not. I also had to wonder if the multiple worlds overlapping applied here, and if soap stones existed. Weapon scaling grades were likely bull for the most part, though I had to wonder about if the magical and other enhancements scaled somehow.
Distances, I realized with dread, were also likely much larger then depicted in game. I realized just how lucky I was that the asylum was as I had remembered it from the game, as very few places would be as advertised. The asylum, Firelink, and the Parish would likely be roughly the size as in game. Everywhere else would likely be vastly different. After all, I could hardly see being able to walk the length of Lordran in a few hours. Day's maybe, but not hours.
Good thing Undead didn't apparently need food, though I was wondering how long an estus flask would hold out. I made another mental note to keep track of how much of my flask I went through in a given day. Another game mechanic that existed, but was somewhat altered.
I pushed the rest of my thoughts of comparisons to the game out of my head, least it become too much, too fast. Best to keep it to a handful at a time, just so I could learn and remember it all.
Instead, I busied myself looking over my equipment. Surprisingly my weapons and shield survived my plunge better than I had. My armour, on the other hand, needed a smith rather badly. The rings in the front of the armor were almost universally bent, and the breast plate was somewhat flattened. The surcoat was slightly shorter then historically and only came down to my knees. It was also ripped in several places, and in need of a good cleaning
My short sword was a plain weapon. The leather wrap frayed from hard use, yet still serviceable. I noticed a few small nicks in the edge, and I resolved to track down a whetstone to service it. The sheath was simple; the only bit of decoration was the small metal balls on each of the ends that matched the pommel. The sheath was just as plain, made from the same type of leather as the wrap, and the metal on each end just slightly rounded.
The heater shield was slightly odd in that it was a slab of metal rather than wood with leather cover, but I honestly wouldn't complain. The metal was surprisingly light as well, being only about a kilogram, and wasn't any that I recognized. Perhaps this was titanite? Beyond the peculiarities of the metal it was made of, it was just a simple unadorned shield with a triangular shape. The straps could use replacing, but in the meantime, they would do.
The crossbow was the final weapon in my arsenal, and the one that had most assuredly seen better days. The body was marked and battered, and the catch slightly bent. The bow was scuffed, and made of the same peculiar metal my shield was. A quick pull confirmed that it was moderately flexible, and that I should probably find a goat hoof, or something, to use as an intermediary between my fingers and the string. I didn't feel it was likely that I could find a windlass to crank it back. There was probably a good chuck of force behind it in the event I could fully pull the string to the latch. I decided that I wanted to take it to either a bowyer or a blacksmith, whatever it took to get this back into shape, before I used it.
My estus flask was fine, and I was somewhat surprised to find that someone had been kind enough to fill it. Pressing the top opened top to my lips without taking a sip revealed a somewhat sweet taste. The key and the rusted ring I found seemed to be fine as well.
What the hell was taking him so long!
I crushed the uncanny wrath beneath my heel once more. I used to do something whenever I got really pissed or depressed before I got dropped here. The first few days in the cell weaned me off it. Damn it, what was it? It felt significant, like it could be a salve that would do more then just hold me for the short term. There was a fog that began to cloud my mind as soon as I tried to remember what it was, and it got thicker the harder I tried to remember.
It was like there was something that was fighting me, holding back what I was, and screaming that I couldn't.
Then something broke and the first strains of music tore through my mind, and my very being soon after. It felt so good, but it hurt so badly. It was like I was so inhuman despite my current form that the simple memory of music was like a bane to my being. More memories flooded in. Song after song. It hurt, pure, unrelenting exhausting agony, but I didn't care. These stupid little earworms were canned glory to me at the moment, and I held those burning memories to my soul. I refused to let that small piece of that which I used to be go. Those small melodies were to become the talisman that would get me through the hellish days ahead. Just, as I now remembered, it got me through my bad days before this.
An hour later, Oscar returned.
"Sorry it took so long. Petrus was trying to waste time by calling it sacred knowledge, and wanted a 'show of faith'. Payment for information pertaining to his own safety. I argued the point a touch firmly" His mouth quirked, "Which is when I pulled out my rank as prince of Astora, threatening him with the power behind my station. Then he wouldn't stop apologizing. The man is a toad." He finally registered my state. "Twelve gods, man. You look almost as ghastly as you did when you rose from the dead!"
"In a way, I've risen again" I chuckled. "Indecently, I figured out that my problem was that while I was a human again, I wasn't human. A bit of soul searching started me on the path to the later." Wait a minute. "Hold on. You're a Prince?" That was a surprise, though I guess it shouldn't be. His speech and manner were to proper to be anything but a noble of some sort.
"I have five brothers between me and any throne." He said shortly, then changed the subject "If you had figured it out, what did you not come tell me, and help me avoid that debacle?"
I gave him wry look, and let him change it "You told me to stay put. So I did"
"But I…" he deflated "Fine. You win this one." He sat down next to me "you mentioned soul searching that put you on the path to being truly human again. What did you find?"
"Music" I said as shortly as he had on his own privet subject.
He raised an eyebrow. "Music? The work of bards does not strike me as something that would be so significant."
Anger boiled up again, but it was a familiar rage unlike the effects of humanity loss, and it was easily subdued. I couldn't chew on him for not knowing. He wasn't me so he couldn't understand how significant it truly was. "Remember that issue we had in the asylum about me speaking lightly of your comrades?"
He went quiet.
"You just did the same sort of deal."
The silence we shared was rather awkward. Damn it.
"So, in a blatant attempt to change the subject, where is my Darksign? I couldn't find it when I looked over myself in the cell." Wow. Of all the ways to start that sentence off…
"In a gracious maneuver to make it succeed, that must mean that is somewhere you couldn't see it." He certainly sounded relieved that I was going to let the subject drop, too. "I'd guess somewhere on your back." He made a thoughtful face. "Take off your chest piece."
I obliged, and shortly after my armour and shirt were removed I felt a tapping right between my shoulder blades.
"Right there." Oscar said, "It is possible you have been marked for longer then you had thought."
"You know what?" I murmured slowly, "I'm fairly sure I have. I had an itch there for a good chunk of that trip through the asylum. I had thought it was just psychosomatic-"
"What?"
"All in my head." I grumbled at him irritably. "I thought it was just a feeling that something bad was going to happen. Not a real itch."
He nodded, "I see. About when did it start?"
"I dunno." I racked my brain, but I had so much on my mind at the time that it was just a passing notice, and a general feeling of paranoia. "After I got out of the cell though, but before we got to the hall where Elliot was." Invoking his friends name wasn't something I did lightly, but for some reason I felt that it was important to give some frame of reference. "Maybe even as soon as meeting you."
"It…" He stopped, and considered his next words carefully. "It is possible that you gained the mark while we were traveling through the asylum, and your fall triggered it into full activity." He frowned, "Do not take that as pure truth however. I am hardly an expert on undead, I just happen to be one."
It sounded pretty good and without knowing anything beyond 'The Darksign brands the undead' about the little fiery ring, I had nothing better to go on. That also seemed to kill that particular thread. We spent another few minutes in silence.
"Why is music so significant?" Oscar said finally, and with a solid chunk of trepidation. I didn't blame him; I did kind of give him an impression that it was a loaded question. For a moment I considered using that to my advantage and blowing him off, but I remembered my earlier rudeness and against that. I had a few loaded questions that I wanted to ask him myself and this struck me as a good point to garner trust.
But how to put it without revealing my nature? "Have you ever heard of the saying 'Music has charms to soothe the savage breast'?"
He shook his head, and I wasn't surprised. It originated from a poem from 1697, and was further bastardized since then, 'Music soothes the savage beast' my hairy rear. My guess was that they didn't have a William Congreve, or if they did, he probably hasn't been born yet.
"It's literal, and mine was always more savage than most." And now for mixing in the truth with some lies. "The Caravan had several minstrels in it, and my teachers found that I was happy, manageable, and agreeable when I did my studies near where the younger musicians were practicing. Otherwise I was… distinctly unpleasant to interact with, for both the teachers and other just about everyone else. I also seemed to work more effectively too, so needless to say people took special pains to keep music nearby."
My teachers in school never had any ideas of the sort. I noticed early on in my life that music put me in a better mood, so I was the one taking pains, not anyone else. Still, except for in classes, I always did have a pair of headphones on, and a song running through my head if actually listening to it wasn't a possibility.
"Eventually, as I grew up, I became more and more dependent on that to leverage out my foul temper. One might say I became addicted to music. It was just always there." Pure truth. "It made me feel safe. And without it I would simply get more savage, and nasty." I gave a half-hearted grin. "Seeing as how I never was much of a fighter… I got beat up a lot if I gave into that. People mocked me for it though, which boosted my dependency. Eventually I found that I had to develop a certain amount of self-control." I sighed, "Which is incidentally is why I was probably more horrified with myself then you were when I went for my sword back there. I never lose control. Ever."
True as far as things went. I was the victim of the common schoolyard bully, and music did give me the buffer to build the self-control I needed to turn the other cheek. It paid off too. It took a supernatural event of being stripped of the essence that made me human to lose it. Top that.
"Of course the music ended once I got bounced to a caravan without any musicians, and I needed that self-control I built up to wean myself off. A ways after that, I more or less just relied on crushing my savage impulses under heal rather than soothing them" I finished. This was somewhat true. My learned control did help out once I got to this world, and after the first week and a half I was too concerned with eking out enough food to keep myself alive to worry about music. If I'm going to be honest though, the loss of my mp3 player was probably as much of a cause of my early breakdowns as much as the realization that I was a world away from home. Even now it was probably the thing that hurt the most not to have. Yes, that includes plumbing.
"I see." Oscar stated. "But how, may I ask, does remembering that help you with finding your humanity once more? We don't exactly have a bard lying around."
"We may not have a bard, but I can remember the songs as clearly as if they were right here next to me." Which was also true. I had listened to all of the songs I had hundreds, possibly thousands of times each. My music collection was not small either or particularly limited either. "Certain songs also hold powerful memories. Kind of like…" I paused for a moment, trying to find the words. "It's like bringing back a shadow of the humanity I had then." I finished lamly.
"You feel that you can use that shadow as a semblance of true humanity to get you through until you can gain the black sprites." He seemed content, and continued softly "I suspect that you were being rather generous when you compared that gift to my comrades."
"I'm not you. I certainly thought that way, but I can't know how significant they are for you."
The conversation was getting awkward again, but this time Oscar had it covered. "At any rate, it might be best if we both spoke to Petrus. Learning that ritual to reverse hollowing would be rather useful, and despite his toadying he truly is much more knowledgeable about the specifics of undead then either of us seem to be."
"Yeah." I grasped the opportunity as graciously as he had grasped mine earlier "I want to ask him about miracles and magic as well. Or see if he could direct me to someone who knows enough to teach me about that stuff."
Thus, we both stood, and proceeded to the back of the ruins of Firelink, where Petrus of Thorolund was waiting for his companions. He was thoroughly immersed in a book of some sort, probably his equivalent to a bible.
We stopped next to him, and Oscar cleared his throat.
Petrus jumped and looked up at us quickly. "Ah, my lord. You have brought…" He looked at me with something that I guessed was veiled disdain. Bastard had a pretty good poker face though; it may have been annoyance at being pulled from his reading. "Your squire?"
"His savior, and guide actually." I said shortly. Petrus stiffened, lending cred to my disdain theory. I continued however. "We are going to be doing some traveling, and in light of what results from death, we have both determined that learning that ritual to reverse hollowing would be wise."
He eyed me, and glanced somewhat nervously at Oscar who was keeping his face passive. "Er, Yes. I suppose it would be." He paused, and then began again less stiffly "I meant no ill will by calling you squire. It is a noble profession." And one that puts said individual far below a warrior cleric such as him in status, I'd guess. I quashed the pettiness I was feeling beneath my heel. Ok, I knew he was going to abandon Reah in the catacombs, and leave her and her friends to be hollowed, but he hadn't really done anything other than be a bit pretentious by this point. Hostility wasn't exactly warranted. Yet.
Instead I gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm part of no order, or covenant. I'm just a caravan rat that happened to get his claws into every book available, and talked to everyone with any degree of learning." A fake wry smile "After I found out about Lordran, I was fascinated about it, and I looked up every text and every legend I could find pertaining to it."
"Including," Oscar interjected, and the bottom of my stomach dropped out, "A variant of the legend on how the great lords came to this world. One that even the libraries in Astora have not cataloged."
Shit. I was hoping that he would have forgotten about that. I guess I opened that particular Pandora's Box, and there was no putting the evil I unleashed back in. But why did it have to be hope?
Petrus raised an eyebrow. "Really?" well, at least it got his attention. "Might I ask you to repeat it for me?"
I briefly thought about trading the legend for souls, but after Oscar had browbeaten Petrus out of his info without paying, it would be hypocritical to withhold my story from him. "In the age of ancients…"
Once I finished, Silence reined once mo- OK, Seriously. Way too many quiet moments. Couldn't someone give me a 'hey, cool story bro!' instead of considering everything I say as though it were a revelation from Go- Gwyn?
Petrus finally spoke, "I have never heard-"
"Of the furtive pygmy." I finished for him "Yes, we know. That would be the only legend that tells of him that I know of, so neither of us know any more about him then you do." It was kind of bullshit though, as I knew that the Pygmy was the dark lord, and basically the founder of the Darkwraith. Probably best not to mention that little tidbit though. Still, we had strayed from the point. "But while story time is fun, and enlightening, it is hardly our point of coming here. That ritual to reverse hollowing was the big reason, though I wanted to ask you about miracles and what you know of sorcery."
I dunno if it was my raw boldness, or if he was still bemused by my legend, but he taught us without complaint. Basically it was like reinforcement, a more or less instinctive event directed by intelligent thought. The variant that he had used on me was a slightly more advanced version that was more or less a miracle, and not something that we could pick up so easily.
In the case of miracles, he just stated that there was no point in telling me, as obviously I had insufficient faith to do anything, and he knew nothing of sorcery or pyromancy. Oscar on the other hand was 'fairly devout, and could likely pick up a few easy powers. It would take time to build the necessary will to unleash them into the world however.' Petrus' words, not mine. I left them to it, and went decided to go exploring. Oscar quashed most of his objections, and instead told me to be careful.
Yeah. Right. He really needed to tell me to be careful.
I poked around the shrine and found a stash of firebombs, and a few souls bound to this world. I didn't know how to deal with them at the moment, so I just put them in one of my pouches. Odd how that works. Then I dropped down the shaft of the elevator to the parish. It wasn't a very large drop, and it revealed a hallway.
Wait a sec.
Memories of the game came flooding back, if they were right then… They were. Another quick drop and I discovered a small clearing with several chests. One held a talisman that I intended to hand to Oscar at some point and a spiked mace that I threaded through my belt just in case. Another held loyd's talismans that would be helpful against more intelligent hollows. The third housed several cracked red eye orbs that I pocketed not from desire to use, but to get in the habit of picking up anything that might be of any use at all. And the last held six finger bones that I guessed were homeward bones.
My heart leaped into my throat. If one of these little bones worked and sent me home, I would be able to write off this whole mess as a really bad month. My hands quivered as I closed a fist around one. And I closed my eyes.
On one level, I was hesitant. Oscar helped me out a fair bit, and I was loath to leave him. On the other hand, I was more or less dead weight that happened to know a few things, but otherwise was pretty much helpless when push came to shove. My disappearance would likely sadden him, but I was sure that he would ball up enough to get his stuff done.
And really, I didn't belong here. One might say it was my duty to try and get home, if only so I didn't screw up the balance of this world. With that firmly in mind, my hand tightened. I felt the brittle bone break, and a sense of vertigo overtake me. Then all my senses went numb.