So, Chapter 1! Again, please inform me of mistakes (languages, content,...) if you spot them.
And before I forget it again: Dark Souls does not belong to me. If it would, than I would not be spending time writing a fanstory,...
Chapter 1: Old tales and truths
The chained down Undeads moaned and whispered. It truly was frightening, like a dark forest in a storm. Claire pressed her back against the wall of the cart, while the old woman beside her made feeble noises in the back of her throat. The old woman was shaking, pressing a pendant against her chest. Claire sighed and tried to look out of the cart. Grey mountain ranges, grey stone and grey cliffs greeted her view, as well as dancing snowflakes in the wind. The guards riding past the small opening were just blurry shadows. Since Duncan died, her body changed for the worse: Where before have been smooth, albeit pale skin, now all was left a rotting body which only vaguely reminded of a body. Muscles and sinews were shown, only her hair stayed as silver as ever. Even her eyes dulled and she could not see clearly anymore. It bore no resemblance to the body of the young woman anymore, which left her brother to earn a living. Indeed, she changed into a grotesque monster. There would be no way out of the Northern Undead Asylum; just her death was awaiting her in its depths.
"Child, do you know the legend of the lords?" It was the first time, the old woman spoke. Her undead eyes gleamed in the dark of the carriage.
"No, grandmother, I do not." Claire answered quietly.
"In the age of the Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of grey crags, arch trees and everlasting dragons. But then there was Fire. And with Fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course... light and dark. Then, from the Dark they came and found the Soul of Lords within the flame. Nito, the first of the death. The Witch of Izalith, and her daughter of Chaos. Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight and his faithful knights. And the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten. With the strength of Lords they challenged the dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart at their stone scales. The witches waved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own and the dragons were no more. Thus began the Age of Fire..." The old woman started coughing. "Please, grandmother, save your strength." Claire said, letting her hood slide down her neck.
"But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now, there are only embers and man does not see not light, but only endless nights. And among the living there are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign."
She started coughing heavily again, then slumped. Claire knew what would happen next. The next time, the old woman would awake; she would have gone hollow, like many others before. Claire let her body sink against the wall once more and closed her undead eyes. She remembered Duncan's words clearly, as he would whisper in her ears. "But, if I see them in the carts to the Asylum, my heart aches. Some lost their mind but the worst are those who fight, cry, weep, who still have their mind intact. Even though they are cursed by the Darksign they are still so human, so vulnerable."
He was right. It felt like hell. Everything around Claire seemed to rot, to die, to wither like flowers in a hellish fire. The pain she felt for losing, no, for having to kill her brother, the pain of seeing people die, the pain of seeing people going hollow – was too much to bear. She crawled herself in a little ball, trying to block out the scenery. Crows croaked in the near, the wind was howling and the undead screamed, wept, cried, moaned.
Claire felt two of the knights guiding her. She didn't fight back, having lost the will to fight. A creaking gate was first opened, than she was thrown down a hole. After that, heavy iron bars closed the hole that was out of reach. As she stood up and looking at the small hallway, she saw the other Undead of her track. The old lady that had gone hollow mere hours ago were mindlessly thrashing against the wall, while the others, some hollow, some not, were apathetically lying down or sitting down on the ground. From afar screams reached Claire's ears, as well as howling and chains smashing against stone. Her weapons, even her pyromancy flame, were gone and so she tried in a hopeless attempt the lock at the door. The door didn't move and so Claire let herself fall down in a corner of her cell, pressing something that looked like a doll against her. Hope was all gone – all she could do, was to wait to rot.
She discovered that she was some kind of different from the Undead one month after her capture. Claire's body continued to rot, but she still kept her mind. Observing the other hollows, she discovered that they did not walk around much either, as would something frightening would keep them from moving. One month later, the next transport arrived. As the time went by, she discovered as well, the same things happened. After the third group arrived, an even stranger thing happened. A body fell down her cell, through the same hole she fell in half a year ago. As she looked up, a faint ray of sunlight touched her rotten face and her eyes and for the first time in six months she felt something like hope and power. A knight stood there, armoured and ready to fight. He turned around without another word and Claire quickly crawled to the body, only to find a small, rusty key. Creaking the former locked door opened up and Claire remembered to take a broken sword, to at least have something to defend herself –even if it was a sword hilt with blunt, broken blade. Careful she went through the small passageway she stared into the last half year and evaded the hands of the Undead that tried to grab her. Water dripped down the wall and rats flee as she neared. The water gathered at a small basin and Claire, still careful and high-strung, made her way to an iron ladder that was leading up to the floor level. The cool snow beneath her feet was unused after the long imprisonment and so was the cold, clear sun. A few seconds she remained standing still, letting the sun shine on her face. Claire never thought, she would be glad, to feel the sun again, since she lived in the cloudy, rainy Swamps, but now... it felt good and instilled some new hope in her heart. Whoever helped her to escape, she was grateful. Now, everything else that was left was to find her weapons again and a way out. She did not know where to head after that, but maybe, just maybe, there was a way to break the curse once and for all. Clutching the new hope she headed to a small bonfire before a great gate. It was unlit, but she carefully stretched out her hand, in the hope, that there was a spark left, that could light it again. A burning branch would be better fitted as the sword hilt she held no but she was unlucky. Not even the smallest spark lit and the ashes were as cold as the snow around the fire. Sighing she stepped up to the gate and slowly pushed it open. The wooden gate was not moving easily and she had a hard time pushing it open, in order to get through. Instead of an open landscape she found a small court, stone walls preventing to see out. Claire noted that deep cuts were to be seen at the walls, the pillars and the ground and she heard a loud rumbling from above. Frightened she looked up and saw the ugliest demon she ever saw before. Claire started running, trying to evade the heavy hits of the demon. She still got hit, flying against one of the walls. While she was trying to get back on her legs, the Demon slowly came closer. What would normally kill a human could not kill an Undead; she managed to get to her feet and started dashing towards a small door, where the Demon did not fit through. Barely escaping with her (undead) life she sank against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Only apart a few meters the Demon was determined to crash the wall – she could hear its frustrated screams and the impact, when its mace hit the stone walls. Following the stairs up to a narrow passage, Claire discovered a shield just outside. Quickly getting it and strapping it to her right forearm (she was left handed) she held it up, in order to not getting hit by the arrows an undead fired towards hear. As she looked closer, the corpse which held the shield had also a short sword – it may be blunt, but still better than a shattered sword hilt. Looting the corpse she also found the leather scabbard and a broad leather belt. After she was equipped she slowly made her path up the hill in order to send the undead to its real, quick death. It seemed to acknowledge, that it would stood no chance against the pyromancer so it decided to run, but did not came far. Claire's newfound sword pierced it right in the middle of its abdomen and with a kick she sent the Undead to the ground for good. Turning left, she headed for the next staircase and looked into the court from earlier. The demon still seemed occupied with trying to smash the walls while Claire quietly sneaked to the next stairs. Only inches before the stairs she looked up – and jumped. A metal ball crashed into the wall and the demon howled angrily, as it realized that its pry was at the first floor. Swearing, Claire stood up and an Undead hurled itself at her. She shocked it of and kicked it of the floor. The demon swung its mace, crushing even more pillars and the Undead. Heavy breathing were to be heard from the cell and as she turned around and moved closer to the hole in the wall that was short before created by the ball, she saw her liberator lying at rubble, ruins and stones. He turned his head, alarmed by her entry. "Oh, it's you." he murmured and settled back at his mountain of rubbish, letting his head lay down on a piece of wall. "Thank goodness you are no Hollow." he added as Claire came closer. "But, I guess, I'm done for, I'm afraid."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I tried to get out. And that demon attacked me as I set foot just before the gate."
Claire kneed beside him. There was no mistake that he would die soon. His whole armour was crashed and full with blood, his sword blunt. He must have fighted like mad, just to end up like that in a cell full of water.
"Perhaps you could keep the torch lit..." he murmured quietly and looked at her through his visor. "Would you like to listen to my request?"
Claire nodded and took his hand. "You saved from my cell. I would like to settle this debt to you."
"My name is Oscar, Knight of Astora. What is your name?"
"I am Claire, Pyromancer of the Great Swamps. What is your request, Oscar?"
"Regrettably, I failed my mission. I could not keep my oath as a knight of my family. A saying is passed down since centuries in my family. As old as the world it seems. I set my hopes in it, to find out if it is truth or just an old wife's tale, but... as you can see..." He paused.
"How does the saying go?" Claire asked.
"Thou who art Undead, art chosen, in thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords, Lordran. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead shalt know."
"Lordran?"
"Yes – the place Lord Gwyn was born. Now you know... And I can die with hope in my heart."
"How can you keep your hope when you are dying?" Claire thought of her dead brother and of Duncan, who died because of her.
Oscar chuckled. "Because... Well, you would not understand."
"Try to explain."
"Whenever I look at the sun, feel the touch of the sunlight... I always know that there will be always hope. Maybe as a way out of locked dungeon. If I am not holding to it, then somebody else will. And..." He paused. "Fate of the Undead... I wonder what it is referring to."
"Do you actually believe that the Curse of the Undead can be lifted or why are you telling me that?"
"Let me have hope, my fellow undead. Every curse that was cast can be lifted. That is a saying in Astora. Let me give this to you before you depart. Here are Estus Flasks, a drink to regain strength and popular among the undead. And as well the key out of the Asylum. You will need to beat the Demon first, but I am sure that you will find your way. I entrust my last will and my hope to you, Claire of the Great Swamps. Make sure to honour these hope. But now go – I bid you farewell. I would hate to harm you after death, so please go."
Claire pressed his hand once more than she stood up.
"Thank you, Claire of the Great Swamps. Thank you, for listening to me."
"That settles our debt." she said. "I will carry your hope from this moment, even though I do not know how to accomplish your mission."
"I believe that you will know when the time is right. Thank you again. Farewell."
"Farewell, Oscar, Knight of Astoria."
Claire quickly disposed the Undeads at the top of the staircase. From her current position she was able to see outside: a lonely mountaintop with ruins on it was everything she was able to see. Grey clouds casted shadows on the whole world. To Claire, it looked like a storm was coming – but the howling could be due to the demon still guarding the gate to her freedom. Claire did not know if it would be her way to her freedom – at the moment it rather seems like the gate to a rather quick death. She did not even know where in the world Lordran was, but if it was to comfort this foolish knight – very well. It did not matter much, where she would went hollow but when she went hollow she would at least do it fighting in the light of day, not while rotting in a cell with vermin. Wind moved her messy and untidy hair, blocking her sight for a few seconds. Armour rattled and an Undead stroke at her from the front. Blocking with her shield, she swung her sword in order to slash its throat, but it quickly moved outside of her range. It was taller than the other Hollows before and it wore armour as well as a sword. Claire lifted her sword and the Undead jumped with a shrill cry at her, sword lifted about its head. She dodged, the sword struck the ground and she beheaded the Hollow with a swing. It staggered shortly, than fell to the ground. Claire carefully moved around a corner. The demon roared again, she could see it moving in the court. She hesitated. With her flames it would not be much of an obstacle, but without them it was an entirely different story. Claire sighed. It seemed impossible, since the walls were too high to even think about jumping down.
What should she do?
The answer was found easily: Right behind a rock she found a pyromancy hand. Upon further surveying it, Claire was surprised that it actually was her own; the one she thought would have gone forever. As she tried it one, she felt the familiar warmth it send up her arm. She concentrated and a small flame lit up, forming a fire ball, then sneaking up her arm. The used feeling eased her anxiety and she gave a small smile. If she wanted to get out, there was no way, except for the gate the demon watched. And to deal with it, there was just one way. It was pretty much crazy, to even attempt to fight against it, but who knows? Claire was dead anyway. A small, former window led to the court. It was high up, but not as high as she would not survive the fall. Claire breathed in and as the demon moved beneath her, she jumped the word in both her hands. She landed on the demon's neck and rammed her blade into it. The demon roared and shacked, trying to grab her but she quickly jumped off. Summoning a fire ball she watched, as the demon turned around, lifting his hammer to crash her. She jumped aside and threw the fireball. The demon screamed and howled in pain and anger, while she was getting behind him. She aimed for its tensions in the hollow of the knee, but did not get through the scales being there. Cursing, she jumped aside again and again lifted her hand again to cast another fireball. The demon rose again let his hammer swing through the air, as she throw the next fire ball, this time aiming for the eyes. Howling, the demon covered his face, while Claire jumped forward to ram her sword in the abdomen of it. This time, her sword went through the scales, slicing open the thick skin. Blood and Inwards flow out, spilling a few drops of it at Claire's face and clothing. Claire stepped back, hoping that the demon would have died for real. It did not move so she carefully walked around it and backed, still looking at the detestable creature, up to the gate. Since it still was not moving, she quickly turned around, fondling with the key. As soon as the key was in the keyhole, a noise was being heard. Slowly, Claire turned around, only to see the demon rising again.
"Oh crap." Was everything she was able to say before she started running again. The Demon crashed into the wall, roaring full anger and half blind. Claire dashed to the other side of the court and concentrated on casting a fireball that would kill – or at least heavily wound – her enemy. As she threw it, the demon effortlessly fend of the fireball with his hammer and continued charging at her. This time, it was a truly close call. Claire managed to get away from the wall and out of the way of the raging demon and hit the knees from behind desperately. The demon did not even stagger; instead he simply tried to crush her. Claire started to panic. What should she do? All doors or gates were closed and locked; there was nowhere else to run. Claire bit her lip and raised her pyromancy hand. Flames were forming themselves in her hand, forming a fire orb. She knew that this attack was probably her last try beating the demon, or she would be crushed. She was not in the shape to use stronger pyromancy, so she needed to take him down with this last shot. The demon raised its head again and roared loudly. In the next instant Claire threw the fire orb, hoping it would work. If not, then...
The fire orb hit the demon straight in to the large wound, Claire inflicted upon him earlier. This time however, it was more effective. The flesh of demon started to burn, the stench of it was pungent and Claire held her hand in front of her almost none-visible nose. With a few steps she was at the demon that was writhing in agony. She lifted her sword and started to hack of the head, making sure, that this time it would not stand again. As she was finished with beheading it, the blood of the demon had stained her sword, her clothes, her body. The corpse continued burning and she continued hacking, mindlessly. Only after the demon was reduced to a mess of blood-soaked ash, flesh and broken bones she stopped. Her hands were shaking as she looked up to the corpse. If she would have been alive, she would have probably have thrown up, but as an Undead – neither in need of sleep, drink or food – she could not. But still, she felt nauseated at the look of her work. She wiped her sword clean at her clothes and stepped up to the gate, trying to forget what she had done or at least justify it. Claire unlocked the gate and pushed it open, and felt a cold gush of air against her body. The clear air, albeit overcast by deep grey clouds, promised freedom, yet Claire could not embrace it. She was at a lonely mountain top and if she would try to find Lordran, like Oscar told her to, she would not know how to start – or how to get away from the Asylum anyway. She slowly made her way through the ruins and stood at the cliff, towering above the ground. Looking down, she saw hundreds of meters down the ground. She broke out into hysterical laughter, sounding desperate. There she was! How foolish she had been! No one ever heard of an Undead breaking out of the Northern Undead Asylum – no wonder, if it was guarded by specially trained demons and a lonely mountain top, with no way down except for the way that the Undead were coming in – and that one was protected by powerful magic. She could not get away! Her journey ended before it started. She was captured here forever. I shall be lifted – nevermore! There was no escape for me, no matter what I am doing. Claire thought and dropped to her knees. Then she heard the rustling of giant wings. As she looked up, she saw the biggest bird she had ever seen. Ebony black, spread wings, eyes like jet stones, the beak sharp as a sword, its claws splayed, ready to grab her. Claire could not move she was frozen to the spot. And then she remembered one of the old tales, her mother used to tell her before her death:
And the god of the war, son of Lord Gwyn, was accompanied by a crow – big as a house and strong enough to carry humans. This bird was loyal to him, even after the nameless god of war fell and lost his divine title. It is rumoured to still roam the skies – hoping to find its master.
Then the crow grabbed her and lifted her up. The claws held her almost tenderly, preventing her from falling to her death. It crowed and flew a little circle, before setting curse for southwest.
Claire's body felt cramped, as the crow sunk and flew slower. Far away she was able to spot a bridge, as well a city and a big cathedral. At the bridge there was something red lurking that was almost looking like an overgrown lizard with wings. A dragon? But before she could take a closer look, the craw sank rapidly and let her fall. Claire landed in the soft grass, feeling the earth again for the first time in hours. She moaned and looked up, only to see the crow taking place at a broken wall of a church, where it sat down and crowed triumphantly, before it started grooming its feathers. Claire sat up, carefully looking around. There was no one near at first glance, so she deemed it safe and stood up. The ruins of a church stood up behind her, once surely majestic, but now run down and filled with a pool of water. Claire stepped down a few stairs, only to find a man, quite possible an Undead like her, staring at the fire. That man could not be a Hollow, since he looked human enough and did not behave like one, since he simply sat there. It was possible, that he was just a simple human being, but she learned, not to judge a book by its cover. Not everyone, who looked human, was human and sane. That was the lesson learned at her journey to the Asylum and in the Asylum itself. As she got closer to him, he simply looked up, nodded to her and said in a sorrowful voice: "Welcome to Lordran, land of the Ancient Lords. I presume you are an Undead as well?"
