A/N: I have to apologize with how long it has been. College, and finally a job, had been quite the hassle as of late. I won't deny that procrastination had a hand in it as well, but that's no excuse. Now then, I present to you the next chapter in the saga of these great Pilgrims. With the addition of one, new individual thrown into the fold...
As is the norm, I must do the disclaimer. Despite how obvious it is that I don't own these blasted things, I have to state as such anyway. I don't own the Dark Souls franchise, and I don't own Fire Emblem, or any of their characters in both series'. If I did, I would have added more voice acting to Fire Emblem, and more areas to Dark Souls. Enjoy!
"Gah…!"
A sharp gasp rang throughout the lonely forest. "I… What…?" A rough, yet refined voice called out, armor rattling . The stranger wore a grass-green tunic, black leather trousers and brown boots of the same material.
Upon his chest, hands, and covering his head, were metal plates. Adorning his shoulders were fur pads that seemed to be made from wolves, due to how rough the material seemed to be. With his breathing out of control, the armored stranger quickly rose, shakily backing himself against a near by tree.
"How did I…?" He questioned, patting himself down, as if to check if he was entirely there. "But she…" He paused, his breathing calming down with each second. "...I suppose she had failed. Nashandra must have been getting old." He muttered the quip to himself, sighing as he rose to his feet. Taking his helmet off, it revealed his short black hair and dark brown eyes. His features were chiseled, showing a battle hardened man at least in his early thirties.
"No matter." He stopped, searching into his inner being to find anything that was missing. "I seem human still. I suppose I've finished that business." He smirked, triumph welling up within him. "Now what to do?" He looked around, noticing the rather dreary forest he had found himself in. "It certainly brings out the depression at least." He sniped, a bored look upon his expression. "Best to keep going though…" He shook his head, and advanced further into the forest.
Things were quiet. Too quiet, especially for a forest of all things. Given the time of day he arrived, he would have expected to hear the sounds of nature… all he received was silence. Even those damnable laughing pots would have been preferable to this deafening quiet. A snap of a twig caught the strangers attention, his sharp ears picking up what could either be a wild animal… or someone of an unsavory nature. "..." Wordlessly, he reached to his hips, where a sword on each side rested.
One sword was a longsword with an inwardly curved crossguard, the other seemed a bit more ornate, ancient even. The stranger rested his left hand upon the pommel lazily, his eyes sharply analyzing his surroundings as if he was a predator. More and more rustling and snapping twigs could be heard, the sounds surrounded him.
"Hm." He nodded his head, an evident smile on his face. Drawing the Leydian weapon at his left hip, he gave it a few practice swings before drawing the sword of the Heide Knights. "Such a large force for little old me. Really, it's almost unnecessary." The Blue Flame began to glow with its namesake. Erupting from the brush, were creatures that reminded the Stranger of Hollows. "Mindless creatures… Go back to the flame!" He roared, his magical sword erupting into a giant, blade shaped blue fire, cutting down the first wave.
His battle ensued, in another place and another time.
"Gah! Do be careful, Lady Lissa-AH!"
"I told you, just Lissa!"
"Yes yes, do forgive this knights old tendencies…" Solaire grumbled, albeit a sheepish smile on his face. The battle was long, and the group had broken camp as they traveled to the capital that Chrom described to them as the home they fight for.
"And I will. Only if you call me Lissa. Not Lady Lissa." She stressed, a satisfied smile on her face. "There, your wounds should be just fine now. All you gotta do is make sure you keep out of fights for a bit."
Solaire laughed, nodding in understanding. "Yes, of course. Thank you La-" He froze, seeing the dark look on the princess's face. "Eheh… Lissa." He chuckled nervously, put off by the look he was getting.
Halas watched the scene with amusement, Siegmyer and his daughter at his side.
"Halas, I must ask you…" Siegmyer interrupted his thoughts, surprisingly.
Turning with a curious expression, Halas tilted his head to the side slightly. "Hm? What is it Siegmyer?"
"Are you sure more of us had been brought over?" He pressed, wanting to be doubly sure. "If so… I fear for our other companions. Namely Rhea. She was far too gentle of a girl to be in Lordran, but now, in an even more foreign land she could very well be in danger." He brought up a rather pressing issue. One that made Halas grimace.
"You're right… but at the same time, where would we even search? As you said, this is a foreign land." He countered, "The best we can do is wait. Wait, and hope that she has one of our other companions with her." He grimaced as he said that. Not many of the other companions, beyond the ones with him, were of the savory sort, he'd admit. He shuddered at the thought of Rhea being alone with Lautrec…
"You are right… though I do not like it." Siegmyer grunted in agreement.
Sieglynd sighed, taking off her helmet. "What are we to do then?" She asked Halas.
"We stick with these 'Shepards'." Halas replied easily. "They're essentially our life line at this moment. Had we any bearing for ourselves, I would say we should make our own way. But, we do not have that luxury." He hated that.
Halas had been so used to making his own way, carving his path through the many hollows that blocked his way… to be honest, he was still getting used to leading the others. He paused from his thoughts when he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it was the female Sieg that placed the appendage.
"We'll be alright, Halas. I'm sure." She smiled, trying her best to keep her leaders hopes alive. She could see his inner turmoil, and it irked her to witness it. "We must simply keep going."
Halas chuckled, but flashed a grateful smile of his own. "You're right… thank you Sieglynd."
She blushed, and turned away, her voice a pitch higher. "T-think nothing of it. Simply trying to keep your spirits up!"
Their bonding moment had been interrupted by Chrom. "Halas, can you and I talk?" The blueblood seemed to have a serious air about him.
'Best follow the atmosphere, then.' The Chosen Undead thought to himself, nodding and stepping forward. "Of course. What is it you need?"
Chrom gestured for Halas to follow him. Doing so, they were a bit a ways away from the camp, just out of earshot. "I wish for you to tell me who you, and your group really are. Your friend, Solaire, while he's a great warrior, and you all have my thanks for helping us defend Southtown, he had displayed… magic, that I had never seen. Things I could never think of without the use of a Thoron book."
Thoron? Halas would file that thought for later. "I see… Alright." He sighed, nodding his head. "You wish for the truth? Do not blame me if it seems unbelievable." He had a bit more bitterness than he previously thought. It even caused Chrom to raise an eyebrow.
And so, he told him. He told Chrom of the fate of every undead from his home, he told him the prophecy, he told him of his journey, the never ending cycle, the horrors he and his friends faced together… everything. Throughout Halas' tale, Chrom's expression ranged from horror, disbelief, confusion, and anger. The first three, Halas understood quite well. Each of those feelings had welled within him on his first journey through the land of lords.
"I see…" Chrom took a deep breath, and nodded. "Alright. I do find this very hard to swallow. Hard to believe, even. But with the presence of the Outworld Gate… maybe something like this is possible." he acquiesced. "But…" He looked into Halas' eyes, his own reflecting pure determination. "You and your friends are welcome amongst the Shepards as one of our own."
Halas froze, staring at the man in shock, and confusion. "You… you would accept us, just like that? When we were once creatures that preyed upon one another just to keep ourselves alive?"
Chrom smiled in response, a light chuckle escaping him. "I think the big word in that is 'once'. That was your past. I can't fault you for what has already happened. Just… don't do that here, huh?"
Halas stared at the blueblood silently, wrapping his brain around everything. nodding, he felt his voice shake. "Y-yes… I can promise you that it will not happen."
Nodding his head, Chrom returned to the camp, leaving Halas to his thoughts. The Chosen was rooted there, until he leaned against a tree, and fell to his rear.
It all raced within him, all these thoughts that he hadn't expected to surface themselves, simply made themselves known.
He had accpeted his friends as they were the same as him. He had led them to victory with each monstrosity they encountered. But… to be accepted so easily…
It made his heart soar with joy. He felt tears fall, and he smiled. "...Hehe… I guess this is what I truly needed… acceptance." rubbing the unshed tears away, he rose to his feet. "Alright… I should return to camp."
And so he did. He chatted amongst his friends, both old and new. The night was filled with banter, and stories shared around the campfire.
Halas slept peacefully.
(Elsewhere…)
"Rrragh!" The sound of flesh being cut filled the air, and amidst a sea of bodies stood a man in Forrosian armor. "Ha… ha…." he breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. "Alright… that seems to be the last of them…" He gulped, gasping for precious oxygen. "Now then, where am I…?"
He left the forest, and was floored by what he saw.
Fields of bodies, burning. A large, somewhat imposing castle in the distance, somewhat safe from the carnage.
"...Trade one abyss…" the stranger muttered, sheathing his weapons, albeit with his hands still ready to draw them. "...Only to find oneself in another. Hm, lets see if this monarch is at the least honorable and hadn't abandoned their kingdom like Vendrik." He seemed to have a habit of talking to himself. "I bore that damn curse for too long to have it cured, only to be killed by some fool."
He was the Bearer of the Curse after all. And to have his reward stripped become a monkeys paw was enough to incite anger.
But with a land in this state of things… what could possibly be done?
"Only one way to get things figured out." He grinned underneath the darkness of his helm. "And that's head to the castle."
The distance was small, in comparison to the long travels he had to endure. Spending a night on that dreaded ship where he had fought the Flexile Sentry was admittedly tacky on his part, but it had a rather comfortable Captain's quarters. So there was that plus, he supposed.
He stood in front of the gates to the town, quite large, he'd say. "Hello up there!" He shouted, trying to get any guards attention. "Any chance of opening the gate so that I may be let-"
"There's another survivor! Open the gate, quickly!" Seeing a head poke from the wall, the shouting continued. "As soon as you can, enter! We do not want any of the Risen to get inside, let alone alert them!"
"Hm. Rude, didn't even let me finish…" He grumbled, but silently agreed. He saw the gate rise little by little, until he saw a crack big enough for him to enter. He ran forward, and rolled under, finding himself on the other side.
A guard was quickly upon him, looking over his condition. "You alroight strangah?" The accent was… odd. Wordlessly, The Bearer nodded. "Good, good. Okay, make ur way intah the square, on o' the lords will take care o' ya, make sure ur fed and whatnot." Nodding, The Bearer followed the instructions.
A little, at least. "Now then… where am I…?" He asked himself, taking a gander at the scene before him. It was nothing like Majula, that was for sure. In Majula, it was a solemn silence that permeated it. Acceptance of their fate, or at the least, quietly waiting for him to spend souls to continue his journey.
Here, in this castle town… it was depressing. As if a dog had finally rolled over to let the blade plunge into its gut. The Bearer of the Curse felt bad for these people, but he knew he had to find his way.
"...Though I wonder… are my friends well?" Lucatiel, Benhart, Vengarl… He sincerely hoped they were alright. "Bah, who am I kidding… they are excellent warriors, Vengarl especially. They will be fine." He nodded, mostly to reassure himself.
Still…. the sinking feeling of despair this place seemed to emit was great. "I need to get out of here…" He sighed, and left for areas unknown in the city.
What light could be found in this dark, bleak future? Time will tell...
A/N: And so, we reach the end of the fourth chapter. As is recommended, leave a review so that I may know what to improve, what I missed, what I messed up, that sort of thing. Ciao, my good people! Until next time!
