Again, I don't own the rights to Dark Souls, thus the characters and locations are theirs.
Original characters are mine however.

I do hope you enjoy the mess below.

Grave of Giants

Travelling to the outlying fortress was not an easy task. Firstly, from Majula to the fortress is something like fifty-odd miles, as the crow flies. This coupled with the thick overgrowth of the surrounding forest made traversal difficult.

I struggled my way through for two days, luckily enough however, it seemed my sword was good at hacking at the foliage in my way.

Perhaps now is a good time to discuss how I was armed back then, as it's changed considerably.

I wasn't wearing any armour at that point, so I only had the blade to protect myself. The sword itself is what we Erebayans refer to as a Schtoka-marra or sword-axe. Schara for short.

You humans would most likely refer to it as a Khopesh and yes, it basically is. In fact, I bet you could pass it off as an Egyptian Khopesh, not a Canaanite one though.

The big difference being that ours are forged from Void metals and not cast from bronze. That and we still use the Schara in military use today, where as you humans reserve them for ceremonial use.

Apart from that though, I didn't have any other form of weapon.

If I was to do this now, I would have my rifle, sword and three bayonets. Along with a few grenades and a side arm, but back then we hadn't figured out gun powder yet or so I thought.

Anyway, the sword was good at hacking things apart, which were in my way.
I came across no-one in that time either. The clear paths and villages in-between were eerily silent, with very little left inside the buildings.

It was through sheer luck that I happened across a full jar of mead, which I bloody well hate, so I had no used to it.

The land truly was dead, for all I could tell.
Day turned to night, but I forged on not needing to sleep and the fact we pure-born Erebayans can see perfectly in the dark, coming from a realm without a sun.

As the sun crested on the second day, I came across my first hollow.

He was a ghastly fellow, little skin remaining on his face and the right arm, no more than a stump. The knife it carried was still sharp, not that it ever touched me.

With a swing of my sword, the hollow fell bisected. Barely noticeable above it's body, was a faint glow. What little soul the creature hung onto, had surfaced.

Now, if I were a Reaper I could collect the soul, but as an Erebayan it would just pass through my hand.

I may be a God, but souls are out of my reach.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have a soul. I think it must be a very warm thing, for a being to want to cling to it, something comforting maybe?

I don't think I'll get an answer for it, no matter what I do or who I ask. Perhaps it is best I never do, but less about the questions that come to me now and back to my younger days.

Past the first hollow, there were several more. All in a state of decay and all with weapons, clutched tightly in failing hands.

The forest had opened up on both sides and a river snaked it's way across the land. This is what I followed, as the only path hugged it and it led me to my first destination.

The river, by this point had turned off, with only a stream to give any indication of the larger body of water.

It went underground through a cave, the path followed and exited into another clearing. Seven more hollows occupied the land, these ones with a little more armour, not that the blade had any trouble biting them.

There was one sneaky bastard with a bow, that caught me off guard. Wanted to shove that poxy bow, straight up it's pox ridden arse!

If another hollow hadn't stepped in the way, that archer hollow would have ruined my shirt. As the final hollow walked it's way onto my sword, I noticed a small grotto across the stream, a lit bonfire sat at the centre.
It was like the one in Majula, same coiled sword in it's centre.

Curiosity got the better of me and I took a look.

Sitting down next to it, I lost myself and found that half an hour had passed. I suppose it was just a very nice area.

I still hadn't noticed that the area I was in was the fortress, well part of it. When it finally occurred, my god, she was a beauty.

It was oh so melancholic. What it would have looked like before the fall, I could only imagine.

After prying myself from grotto, I explored further, climbing my way in.

More hollows fell in the remnants of a collapsed town. Another fucker archer took pot shots from above, before stepping on a rotted beam of wood, sending it tumbling to the ground in a broken heap.

There was fellow, just sat reclined against a tree that had sprouted, in a wonderful set of plate-mail armour and a great-helm. I wanted it and decided I would 'liberate it'.

Me, thinking the bugger was dead removed the helmet, for it to lunge aggressively with it's sword out.

His blows were heavy and wild, nothing like the other hollows I had fought previously. The hollow knight's undoing however, was a high swing. The perfect opening for me to skewer it, through the throat.

Empty sockets lingered on my face and then the whole body went limp.

The encounter left me unsteady, I hadn't expected the hollow to put up such a good fight.

And watching myself back, my swordsmanship was pathetic. Any cunt can swing a sword, but in practice it's not that simple and if you don't believe me, try having a search for the many sword fighting treaties created. Your local library may have a few hidden away, well more likely museum which may have a treaty of sword fighting on display.

I soon forgot about my poor sword skills and turned my attention back to the plate-mail armour. It was a little big on me, then again I was wearing a very thin shirt. I had no gambeson, and the one that was on the knight was half rotted to hell.

The helm was similarly hard to wear, without a coif.

The only thing that fit perfectly was the knight's straight sword, it was comfortable in my grip and had a nice weight to it.

As you might expect I found the whole get-up rather uncomfortable, as the armour hadn't been designed for me.

It wasn't the wisest of choices and had a rather negative impact upon me, for some years to come. I hated wearing armour and subsequently uniforms. Now though, I can't wear anything other than my uniform, with a few exceptions of course.

For the mail shirt I had to use three belts. One across my chest, one round my waist and one round my hips, just to keep it from falling.

Common sense would dictate that I take the armour off, but no, I tried to make it work.

So, I continued to slog on through the ruined fortress.

I didn't find another of those knights, but the other hollows I had come across filled the place. There tended to be two types, ones with armour that had been cobbled together from just about everything and ones in a more standardised armour.

These were the fellows that must have been defending the place, before the curse. I didn't really need to put much effort in, to put them down.

Eventually I entered the main keep and came across another friend.

Surprise, surprise it was another bloody crone, or hag in this case. Her name Melentia and she was a travelling merchant.

To be honest I would have said she was a hoarder, carrying everything and the kitchen sink on her back.

We chatted for a few moments, in which she tried to flog me stuff. Items I didn't need, nor want.

A telemarketer before telemarketers.

I made my excuses and left, taking the only route out of the room; a conveniently placed hole in the floor.

Searching around a bit I found my way onto the walls and then into what I assume was a mine entrance.

It turned out to be a boulder trap, to which I lost my new sword, but gained a friend.

A cartographer, in search of ancient or lost maps…

Well, you know what they say, do what you love.

I found Cale to be lively, with quite the sense of humour. It turned out he was the one looking after the manner house in Majula, and he gave me the key to it.

We chatted for awhile and he shared his lunch, as I was woefully unprepared for this journey. It's a good thing I didn't really need to consume food back then.

It's always good to take a moment to relax, no matter where you are, especially if you've got the chance to.

Cale would eventually inform me, that he had scoured the majority fortress and that I may find something of interest above. He hadn't got up that far, stopped by a door he couldn't open.

Apparently, me also getting through the same door wasn't his concern.

I made my way back onto the wall, and down into one of the inner courtyards where another man was sat.

I believe he was trying to bait me into setting off a trap, so walked away. Had a real punchable face, don't quite remember his name. Patti...patches...pats, something like that.

My next obstacle was a heavily armoured turtle-thing.

The engagement was anti-climactic, as a hollow from above tripped with a torch, slap-bang into several barrels of black powder.

Bang!

Seeing this, cogs started to turn within my brain. I watched as a stone near one of these barrels was thrown with considerable force against an opposite wall, chipping it. There had to be something there.

There was, I was just a little behind the time.

You see, the planet on which Drangleic and Lordran reside, time works a little different. It moves considerably slower, still haven't the foggiest why.

The Empire's standing army had already equipped with snap-locks, thus my thoughts were redundant.

What I could have done with a squad of musketeers, or a tank. Tanks seem to solve all my problems.

Now, past the now smouldering turtle knight, I entered the main keep and as Cale suggested, I went up. The door he had told me about was there, and I had a plan to get past it.

Not all of those barrels filled with powder had detonated and there was a torch on the wall. What could possibly go wrong?

Nothing surprisingly...the door was open...

The fucking door was open. Was I at the right bloody door?

No matter, I continued on my way and up to the battlements and with every step forward, the sound of fighting grew louder.

I picked up my pace, which was a little difficult in the armour, but the idea of taking it off still hadn't come to me.
The tight staircase brought me to the battlements, the smashed head of a statue lay in my path, though a convenient crack allowed access.

The sounds of the fighting was loudest on the other side. Something worth fighting over, I hoped.

There were about ten undead grouped around a rather large armoured gentleman, who was floating I should mention.

One undead called to another, then took a swing at the armoured brute's leg, bringing him to his knees.

Now, I don't know about you, but I thought it a little unsporting and decided to help the brute. Oh impulsiveness. Don't you just love it?

I honestly don't know how I got to the position I'm in now. I really was a stupid twat.

The first undead was no trouble, my schara splitting it's skull in two, a second falling with a sharp slash across it's unarmoured stomach.

A third had gotten behind me and brought down it's sword, catching my helmet.

My head was ringing something terrible. No other damage however, not that it would have killed me anyway.

The same undead had raised it's shield, and it had my complete and utter focus…

It was a bloody good thing the big fellow was distracting the other ones.

The undead was baiting me, you could tell by it's stance. Ready to parry my sword the moment I swung at it.

It thought it was being clever, and even though I wasn't the soldier I am now, I could still be clever too.

I turned the blade over in my hand, so it's curve was facing behind me, then feigned an attack.

As predicted the undead tried to parry, but I had caught the shield with the back of my blade and pulled the bastard forward.

There might be treaties on sword fighting, but an armoured fist will do the job just as well. Especially if you're Erebayan like myself, stronger than the average human and punched straight through into the brain-pan.

The problem now, was that my fist was lodged in an undead skull. The quickest option I found was to just hack the bugger off, the easiest option would have been to convert the being into energy, but as we've discussed common sense avoided me.

Turning back the other seven or so undead were no more, the big fellow had obliterated them. He was down on one knee panting heavily.

A clacking sound, drew me to one of the ballistas being drawn back by a previously unseen undead.

"Behind you!" I cried out, as the undead loosed the javelin.

The brute moved with such speed, dropping it's great shield in the path of the projectile and threw it's own sword. Let's just say that undead never stood a chance.

I watched on in awe of this floating brute of a knight, as he retrieved his arms and ominously floated over.

Now, you see the thing is I'm only little, five-seven to be exact. Yes, average for humans, but for an Erebayan I'm short. Average height for us is around six-four.

This brute was towering above me, at just over seven feet.

It studied me for a good few seconds, cocking his head this way and that.

"A knight of Heide come to my rescue, I must say I'm surprised," The brute commented, "Didn't think many of you still had your minds."

"A knight of what now?" I responded, and pulled off the great-helm, "I only got here a few days ago, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

The brute leant forward, getting a better look at my face, "You don't have the usual stink of an undead."

"That would be because I'm not..."
It became a pain, having to say that to everyone I met.

The brute grunted, "No matter, you aided me all the same. I thank you, strange sir."

His head bowed in thanks, he then unfastened his own helmet. He was a big, blonde bugger, with extremely sharp features. Most people didn't know this, as he kept his helmet on most of the time.
"So, how did someone like you end up in a place like this?" He asked, an eyebrow cocked.

"Alcohol," I told him bluntly.
The brute laughed, "I mean, why here particularity? Not by which means you found yourself in Drangleic."

The only thing I could do was shrug, "I don't actually know, I was just given a direction and followed it. I think I'm supposed to be saving this world or something, well that's what I told that girl I was doing."

"Linking the fire then," The man chuckled, "I, myself, am looking for my younger sister. You see the pair of use served under Vendrick. I, a pursuer of the undead, you might say. Not the only one, but now there are no more than myself."

The brute then went onto tell me that his sister had for a brief period served in the fortress, his thought was to check for any clues to her whereabouts and was jumped by those undead.

"It seems in my haste, I have neglected to give my name. Vixen Kellantine," The brute straightened up, "Pursuer knight of Vendrick."

Strange to believe that the man before me would become best and oldest friend, even after all these years, and don't you worry I'll get onto his sister in time.

"Strange sir, permit me to join you. I feel honour bound, as you came to my aid."

I scarcely recognise the Vixen Kellantine of then, he's changed considerably, as have I. No longer is he an honour bound knight, but a true soldier of the Erebayan Empire. A man I'm proud to stand alongside, and no better man to have.

If I ever get round to it, I must note down the time myself, Vix and a squad of riflemen found ourselves facing five Russki IS-2s. Needless to say, the riflemen were slaughtered, but me and Vix knocked out three of those commie tin tractors on our own. We didn't get the credit, that fell to two panther assault guns.

Now, back onto the main story.

I accepted Vixen as my travelling companion and introduced myself in the only way a know how. Flamboyantly and far too over the top, but hey, one of my titles is the 'Glam God', that's probably the nicest of my titles as of now.

"I'm Emperor Johannes-Friedrich von Bayer, of the Erebayan Empire and I would be more than happy for your company," I bowed. I neglected to tell him I was God, not that he cared when I told him and nor does he care now.

He was very different back then. He didn't swear, he wouldn't drink or smoke, never associated freely with women. Then he met me…

Sorry, went on that tangent again. Drink does that to me, specially imported Newcastle brown ale, the finest of drinks.

Sorry, sorry...Vixen took well to me being an Emperor, not that he asked for any proof and suggested we explore more of the fortress.
It turns out the door Cale was talking about was on the other side of the battlements and no wonder it wouldn't open, as there was a half ton of bloody rubble behind it.

We didn't find much in what was remaining of the fortress. Not a trace of Vixen's sister and not a clue of what the fuck I was supposed to be doing.

What we did find however was an elevator, and that lead straight down into the bowels of the earth.

I was slightly disappointed to find nothing but a dead giant, which is what Vixen called the thing sprawled dead in the centre of a cavern under the fortress.

The giant wasn't long dead, in fact still warm.

By the looks of it, the giant had been a prisoner. Tortured within an inch of it's life, I would guess that the group that had assaulted Vixen, were the ones to down the beast.

"This their lord, felled at last," Vixen commented, "It took thirty men and the gallant captain Drummond to even subdue it."

It was an awesome sight, and not just because the beast's corpse was massive. Vixen then gave me an odd look, "It seems that it was a fool that brought the beast down, as the soul remains."

I had also noticed the glow at the beast's chest, I wasn't aware though that normal people could see them though. I did press him on this and mainly why one would take the soul.

"Well, currency for one."

That was me well and truly buggered then.
"You take it, Sir Kellantine. I'm sure you'll find better use for it than I."

The man didn't argue and I watched as the giant's soul jumped from it's body to Vixen's. It was an odd thing, to watch a none-Reaper collect a soul.

It was also at that point that I finally grew sick of the armour I was wearing, tearing it off with quite a pace.

"Yes, it does seem that the armour of Heide, is not well suited for your, erm, frame sir," He was being polite. I did ask him about his thoughts about our first meeting, not that long ago and his words were 'Boss, you looked like a fucking tramp'.

Cheeky cunt, he had also just fleeced me of three thousand Imperial pound, but he was right. You can't just put armour you've found on and expect it to fit.

After Vixen took the soul we left. He with his bulky armour needed to find another way out, it took him around thirty minutes to catch up.

It took even longer for us to get back to Majula, four days.

When we walked back into the town, we were greeted by an angry Shanalotte. She was angry at first, then a little unnerved by Vixen, then straight back to angry.

This was roughly about the same time I opened my mouth, must have been on the blob or something, nothing to do with me.

My dear fire-keeper threw her arms up in frustration, "If you hadn't just walked off I would have told you."

The talking kitty-cat reared her head, "She forgot to tell you too. Oh, what a fuss she was making, it almost seemed like she was worried."

The cat liked to stir the pot and had quite the barbed tongue, if you found yourself on her bad side.

Shanalotte near enough jumped from her skin at the cat's words.

I, at this time, decided to put Vixen between myself and the fire-keeper, as it looked like she was ready to explode.

"You!" She jabbed a finger at me, "Are to collect the four lord souls for across this land. Then and only then will you be allowed access to Drangleic castle, where you will find out what you are to do next. Do you have that?"

I held my tongue and just nodded my head, it was a wise choice.

"I suggest that you next travel to Heide, you may find something there," Shanalotte growled, then turned her back on us.

I wasn't going to get any more information out of her.

Vixen suggested that I get myself some actual fitted armour before we left, he would foot the bill with the giant's soul.

The first stop was to a timid gentleman by the name of Maughlin. He was the resident armourer, little in the way of people skills though. Still managed to work out what I wanted. I decided on something similar to the royal Drangleic soldiers, in fact it was the same armour.

For a week he had me wait, as he was working alongside the blacksmith Lenigrast, a prickly individual if ever I've met; a skilled smith all the same.

When I did get the armour, I was impressed. It was mostly leather, the only plate being a crude cuirass, vambrace and a beautifully smithed siege-burgonet.

The most important thing was it fit and it was comfortable, I could move easily in it. I still have the helmet somewhere. Put it on every now and again too, not that it works with our current uniforms.

Now I was suitably armoured and ready for the next leg of the journey, towards a sunken city and an old dragon slayer.