The Forest of Fallen Giants was a rather eerie place Artorias decided as he first stepped inside it. Huge trees gnarled in their appearance covered the landscape. Brown leaves covered the moss green forest floor while the occasional decomposing corpse of a wild animal would come across his path. The orange sky gave the forest a rather ominous appearance. The shadows of trees and rocks were cast in all directions, while the gentle wind would rustle the leaves placing the Abysswalker on slight edge.
A crumbling stone fortress could be seen in the distance overlooking the forest, and provided a decaying symbol of power that once existed in the lands. This land was seemingly desolate and devoid of life. However the undead weren't exactly proper symbols of a vigorous life. The Abysswalker could see armored figures shambling around the fortification with no sense of cohesion.
A small stream of gently flowing water was on his left. The sound of the water brought forth a sense of familiarity in the ancient knight. Streams and rivers were common in Lordran and often served as stopping points for many of his own quests. Without hesitation he walked to the edge of the stream and knelt just above the surface of the water. With both hands he scooped water in his gauntlets and splashed it on his face. A cool sensation hit him as the liquid began to drip off.
Sif used to love the water. He thought, slowly letting memories of the young grey wolf fill his mind.
The memory of the canine playing in the streams surrounding the city of Anor Londo. He remembered the harsh struggle of having to forcefully remove the wolf from the water and the look of absolute betrayal Sif gave him as he did so. The wolf did forgive him after being brought back good from the kitchens, an endeavor the Abysswalker vowed he would never again undertake. The chefs of Lord Gywn's citadel guarded all foodstuffs with more energy than his own knights on night watch.
The expedition into the kitchens was worth it however. The simple joy a wolf could have while devouring some of the best cooked meats in the land was astounding, yet oddly comforting.
A smile found it's way across his face followed by a bitter sense of loneliness.
Those were the happy time were they not Sif? Artorias thought sadly.
He wondered what the fate of all his former companions.
Ciaran the Hornet? He briefly saw the assassin in the citadel of Anor Londo the night before before he departed for Ooliacile. Despite having opposite roles on the battlefield, their relationship was quite close. Some of his own knights speculated they seemed too close and would often make harmless jibes at the two of them. Neither the swordsman nor assassin confirmed not denied anything.
Hawkeye Gough, arguable the best archer in the land went missing weeks prior to the Abysswalker's fatal mission to Oolicile. Many of scouts for the kingdom seemed to report a giant wandering around Oolicile before all reports from the accursed place ceased. Artorias made it his secondary objective to located the archer. He never did. The fate of the giant was unknown to him. He only wished the giant was spared from the horrible fate the rest of the town suffered.
Finally his mind drifted towards Dragonslayer Ornstein. The fabled captain of the Four Knights of Gywn and commander of all forces in the kingdom. The Abysswalker remembered his as prideful, noble, and very strict. He was the knight everyone wished to be. From what Artorias remembered of that time, the Dragonslayer seemed to be spending far more time with their lord, planning something.
The Abysswalker remembered the Lord of Sunlight becoming more reclusive, often spending more time in the throne alone. The exact reason was unknown to him as he departed the city finding out.
Then suddenly he paused.
The Abysswalker stood up and pondered.
Is this real? He thought bitterly.
His memories before arriving were hazy at best. As if he was waking up from a dream. He remembered the Abyss spawned beast seemingly end him. Was this all a dream? Some sort of cruel nightmare?
Wicked Abyssal sorcery perhaps?
The option seemed very valid to him. The Abyss was insidious in the ways it could corrupt a being.
No. To what purpose would it serve? Does it even need purpose?
A snapping of a branch brought him back to his senses. His head snapped toward the sound while his armored hand reached for his massive sword.
It was another group of hollows shambling towards him.
They wore thick and heavily padded leather armor, which despite being worn and rotting in various places was mostly intact. Steel helmets adorned their heads. Steel short swords were held firmly in their gloved hands, while rotting wooden shield or what remained of them were held loosely in front of them. These were no doubt the foot soldiers of a once proud kingdom.
The Abysswalker could see the years of accumulated filth on each blade. Several years of dust, dirt, blood, rust, and all sorts of things made the blades worn beyond use.
Despite their hollowing, Artorias could see what could pass as some sort of primitive determination in their eyes. White pupil less eyes glared up at him. Knight Artorias felt some respect towards these once soldiers. Even on the brink of madness and with the grasp of undeath holding them, they would still carry out their duties.
Despite them not having the capacity to recognize the meaning behind it, Artorias bowed his head slightly.
Then with sword in hand he charged.
The undead soldiers easily had around thirty in number. Disregarding their current state, the Abysswalker could see the years of practiced motion in their swings and stabs.
However all would fall before the Abysswalker's sword.
The massive silver blade easily cleaved through their armor. Shields were left to splintered and swords were broken.
He stood in front of them. A simple swing to his left would send limbs flying. While in turn his right leg would sweep downward and send the remaining to the floor. He could feel their blades attempting to stab his leg, to make a dent in his armor. It was to know avail.
The Abysswalker knew his moves reeked of arrogance. In his mind he could hear the voices Ciaran, Lord Gywn, Ornstein, and every other knight he knew criticizing him. Had those swords been in a better state, he may have damaged or perhaps lost a leg. He paid no heed however, the thrill of combat had taken over.
His sword was raised high above in the air from his previous swing's momentum. He then let it descended upon the fallen hollows. The single swing was all he needed to end the rest of them. To any obscure viewer he would seem like the angel of death reaping recently collected souls.
Victory was his.
Artorias then heard more footsteps approach. His recent quarrel seemingly brought out more the undead soldiers. Artorias could see them spanning the entirety of the riverbed. Each mindlessly shambling forward in his general direction. Some seemed to be able to endure a light jog.
They all seemed ready to fight. A fight Artorias was all too eager to give.
The Abysswalker let out a sigh of relief as he walked through the corridors of the fortress. He speculated he slain nearly a hundred of the undead soldiers. A small feat, but one he wasn't exactly used too. The average human would have great difficult fighting Artorias or any of his fellow knights. These hollows were barely a threat, serving more as a distraction than an actual threat.
However the Abysswalker knew better than to simply disregard them. Anything could become a factor in which would lead to ones downfall. Best to treat all threats, no matter how minor, seriously. It was still hard for him though.
The inside of the fortress was barren and crumbling. A husk of its former glory. Tattered banners adorned walls, dust acclimated everywhere, and nature seemed to grow alongside the walls of the fort. Massive trees seemed to grow in any open area, often breaking through cracks in the ground.
He wondered what the history of this fort was. The fading signs of a deadly marked each corner. Walls were broken, old blood nearly in every room, and occasional corpse manning a ballista.
He found no signs of invaders, save for a single hollowed knight clad in white armor sitting beneath one of the many trees. The knight was not aggressive to the Abysswalker and he had a hard time believing he was an undead. The only indication being the amount of arrows sticking out of the knights body.
For an odd reason Artorias doubted the man in white was one of the assailants of the fortress. He found no similar knights and most of the corpses he found seemed have been crushed or thrown. Curious. Curious indeed.
Perhaps some manner of beasts?
The answer would seemingly remain unknown to Artorias.
He sent a brief glance to afternoon sky. The orange haze was only interrupted by the occasional cloud. He couldn't see the sun as a wall blocked it.
He remembered enjoying the sunsets in Anor Londo immensely. The city was designed in such a way that it would seem to illuminate upon contact with sunlight. He would often catch Ornstein watching the sun set from one of the balconies in the citadel.
It was a habit he remembered the Dragonslayer had. In the mornings he would watch the sun rise and in the afternoon he would watch it fall. Each of the four knights had developed strange habits over the centuries. Watching the sun rise and set was Ornstein's.
The Abysswalker hoped his friend died under the sun. Peace was something the captain needed.
Slightly movement in his peripheral vision suddenly caught his attention. Something was flying overhead.
What Artorias saw caused his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop slightly. The largest bird he had ever seen was circling the fort. That wasn't what caught his attention.
Underneath the bird, an armored figure was be carried by the bird. Weapons of all sorts hung from the backside of the being. An enormous shield was strapped to its arm, easily half the size of the thing. The figure seemed to be looking down at the surface, as if searching for something. Beneath it's visor two glowing red eyes glowed.
Artorias felt great unease as the eyes passed over him. The armored being tilted it's head in apparent confusion as it looked upon the Abysswalker. Slowly Artorias began to reach for the hilt of his sword. He knew danger when he saw it. A silent standoff was held between them.
A sudden screech from the bird caused the being's head to turn to another direction. They seemed to have found something in the distance. The bird then flew into the opposite direction.
What happened next confused Artorias even bird dropped the armored man from what was easily above fifty meters in the air.
As expected the armored being plummeted to the surface.
The Abysswalker felt his eyes narrow. The fall would have easily killed any human. But Artorias knew that thing wasn't human. He could feel it. Those eyes were not human. Artorias was unsure of what it was. He added to the list of things he needed to investigate.
Taking notice of the direction in which the thing was dropped, Artorias proceeded to run forward.
Strange lands indeed.
I am alive. Well mostly. Up above there is supposed to be a divider, but I can't seem to place one.
I envy anyone with an actual fucking computer they used for this shit. Fanfiction mobile is the buggiest shit for uploading stories. Then again I really shouldn't be expecting much.oLScholar of the First Sin changed a few things in terms of enemies, lore, things. In terms of enemies, I will stick to what I am familiar with or what I like better. Lore, well I'll do that as I go along. So read, review, do whatever the hell you want.
- Tokyo Express