The crocodilian beast roared in furious agony as Oscar's blade pierced its softer underbelly, the knight having taken charge and rammed the blade as deep as he could get, which was luckily in between one of the beast's rolls of stomach fat, allowing the blade to be ran through to the hilt.
Unfortunately, this attack brought a grave consequence, for he couldn't remove his sword. As punishment for this attack, the creature swiftly turned to the side, dragging Oscar with it and sending the poor knight flying into a pillar.
Jaune swore, his grip on his broken sword tightening so hard that he could feel his bones creak against the handle. Things weren't looking very good.
The plan started in the hopes of taking it out as quick as possible by aiming for the lipless head, driving their weapons into the eyes, the neck or any vital area of the landing. Unfortunately for them, the beast had rather short, almost skinless wings that allowed it to move away in such a well timed move that the plan fell apart just as it began.
At least Jaune had scored first blood, the weapon still lodged in its shoulder. He was somewhat useful at least.
Gulping, he ran for the beast, slashing at it with his broken blade, drawing gashes and shallow cuts around the joints of its legs, and most importantly, drawing its attention from the now groaning Oscar.
Seeing as Oscar was the more capable fighter, he had let Jaune hold onto the Estus Flask, believing he may need it more than he would. It stung to agree with, but there wasn't any way he could refute the knight's claim.
With a low growl that sounded like the bellow of a hot forge mixed with a gravel, it turned, beady eyes glaring into Jaune's from atop a body of fat and muscle.
Slamming the head of its massive hammer into the floor with speed that far surpassed its looks, Jaune was forced to use his shield to defend against the pieces of brick sent his way, lest he get a messy end at the hand of the aftershock of the attack.
Once more, he grunted.
The damn thing is way too strong, and I only have this tiny blade! His eyes fell to the slowly, painfully rising knight as he attempted to regain his bearings. Can't get the Flask to Oscar…tch, gotta keep it off him for now…
Jaune's eyes fell to the blade wedged in the fat of the monsters stomach, and he grinned even as panic attempted to override the freezing calm that was keeping him moving.
Maybe if he could get the blade out, maybe then the fight would go their way! With a suicidal resolve, Jaune dashed forward, ignoring the warning that was the bestial growl of the monster and attempting to grab the handle of the sword in its gut.
Left!
What the!?
Jaune didn't get the luxury to question it as his world became dark and a mind numbing pain filled him, before it faded quickly to silencing bliss.
And then replaced by lazy crackling.
Jaune groaned as the heat and cold conflict returned to him, and the darkness alleviated from utter blindness to the darkness of simply having one's eyes closed. His chest hurt like Hell...he had died, hadn't he?
He should really be worried about that, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He shook his head at the realization. Yes, he should definitely be worried.
Opening his eyes, fire tinged dull cobalt widened as he gazed into the abyss like sockets of a midnight black knight's helm, with elegant armor just as black, but not naturally. As he gazed at it, tearing his eyes down from the helm to take in the appearance of the new arrival, the more he could see that the black color was more of the result of it having weathered a powerful fire rather than by design.
The entire thing was burnt black.
Elegant flowing grooves and plates overlapped dark gray chainmail, with an exaggeratedly long black metal collar rising up to protect the neck from the sides. Symbols and grooves formed fantastical patterns that were displayed elegantly within the firelight, yet it held a dark, almost sinister appearance in its burnt state, with the clawed fingers and cold silence of its wearer giving Jaune a horrible sense of unease.
And familiarity.
The pitch black gaze from the helm gave way to smouldering orange fires of eyes, but Jaune was so lost in his fearful confusion that he could not register it as anything but sinister in the way they glowed like hot embers.
The helmet was odd. It appears to have been reforged, with the top being that of a metal wolf's head, but the bottom having been altered to that of a traditional closed knight's helm.
A slow tapping noise brought Jaune back down to Remnant.
Clawed fingers slowly tapped against equally black metal leggings as the man was sat squat before Jaune, whose back was steadily cramping as it rested against the broken wall of...the courtyard?
Oh yeah, he died. Didn't he just point that out?
"You...I suppose I must...explain...to you...what is...happening..." The voice was just as gravelly as Jaune had expected, but incredibly raspy and spaced out, as if he wasn't used to speaking, a very hesitant way of speech. But what was surprising was the calm, almost incredibly curious, knowing and reassuring, tone the man held. For someone who looked like a night terror come to existence, he sure could calm one down with a few words.
Wait.
"Yes, *cough*, I do have questions." Jaune winced, a hand rising to his neck in pain. Gods, was his throat always going to hurt like this?
"But...later…" Jaune raised his eyes to the fiery orange of his raspy company, about to show just how irate he was about being denied this yet again, but before he could, he heard the tell tale roar of the crocodile beast he and Oscar had been fighting. Wait, Oscar!
He left him all on his own! Granted he wasn't able to help much in the fight, but effort counts, right?
Shaking his head, he stood up, feeling his spine crack and creak pleasantly as they were no longer uncomfortably hunched over, facing the Bonfire. His hand fell to his belt instinctively, and he froze for a second in surprise as his hand fell atop the handle of a familiar weapon, whose weight was suddenly being registered in his sheathe.
The sword he had lost to the beast's shoulder was magically back in its scabbard, and Jaune would not question his luck.
Looking to his silent audience, he noted how the man seemed to flicker in the glow of the fire. He would've questioned it, but the fact that Oscar was facing the beast alone was at the forethought of his mind, the new member into this incredibly odd day forgotten.
"Oscar…" Jaune turned to face the burnt black knight, his attention peaked at the odd tone his raspy voice held. It sounded so...far away. The reforged wolf helm turned to face Jaune, and the fiery embers that felt so familiar yet so terrifying pierced Jaune's.
"Save him...where I failed." Does, does the knight know Oscar? His tone was solid with seriousness, and despite the rasping pause here and there between words, Jaune felt as if he was being spoken to by a drill sergeant, each rasp a shout, and each pause the spittle flying in his face.
"I shall...aid you...do not...fear...I am your, *breath in*, eyes." And with that, the knight shimmered and scattered into shadows in the light of the flame, and Jaune was left staring at an empty spot of the courtyard. He sighed.
No time to question it Jaune. Let's get moving.
Turning to the doorway, he wasn't surprised to see the wall of roiling fog in his way, but remembering the doorway within the prison itself, he took long strides forward, his hand rising to the fog with a confidence the rest of him didn't feel.
As the fog fell away and he was able to force his way through, he stumbled for a second as it reformed behind him, almost forcing the scabbard from his belt as it pushed on him. Huh, that's a thing now.
Focus. The hammer...must be avoided.
What in-! Oh, that's what you meant by 'I am your eyes', isn't it? At least he has some back up...and some assurance that he wasn't imagining the black knight, although he wouldn't ignore that possibility of that being the case.
Yes. I shall...watch over you...and no, I am...real.
Jaune sighed at the childish yet cold tone the last sentence the knight-voice said, tightening his grip on his blade as he wrenched it from the sheath. Tightening his hold on his shield, he broke into a sprint towards the fight, where Oscar seemed to have gotten his sword from the belly of the beast, and was trying to dash in between large sweeping swipes of the massive hammer.
You, and Bildnis are both answering my questions when this is over.
If I can…
Jaune ended his his sprint with a leaping with a strong overhead swipe of his blade, managing to score a cut across one of the gashes Oscar had scored earlier. The beast roared as the blade bit into the tendon in the back of its leg, managing to drive it onto one knee, but also trapping his sword within its leg as it kneeled.
Oscar took the opportunity to dash forward, stabbing his sword into the forearm of the beast, twisting his blade with a feat of strength and forcing the beast to let go of the hammer, Jaune circling around quickly after managing to slide the sword out from its meaty prison and a rasping bark from the knight-voice told him to.
His sword stabbed towards the arm of the beast, and to his shock, despite it digging into the arm, it stopped quickly, forcing him to try and stop as he slid forward, his arm gripping the blade being raised awkwardly as the blade refused to budge.
No good...too weak...must work on...that.
Jaune bit his lip in order to not vent his frustration. All this and apparently he's too weak as well? Greaaatttt…
The beast roared in fury as the sudden pain and slashes taken to its leg and arms forced it to drop the massive hammer it had grown to cherish, reveling in the crunch of bones and flesh it gave as it slammed into Undead foolish enough to try and fight it. Much like that one Undead earlier, but like a rodent, it had come back and sunk its tiny fangs with a surprising bite into it as it arrogantly began swiping at the much more competent rat.
As the hammer dropped from its grasp, it felt a power it had thought lost years ago well up within its crocodilian skin chest, unaware that the arrogance of its hammer and monstrous strength had caused it to unconsciously reject the power that flowed through it, and stood, although wobbily.
Jaune smirked at the beasts wobbling, maybe he could do this.
BACK!
Jaune was confused and winced at the sudden shout from the knight-voice, but heeded the warning, although not quick enough. Slamming into the broken brick floor, Jaune felt his world spin and the mother of all headaches take root in him as he was sent flying back, a hauntingly pitched echo of a screaming woosh of air registering into his mind a second later as the last vestiges of a blood red force of air escaped the slug like body of the hammer beast.
Coughing up blood, Jaune heard the painful rasps of the knight-voice telling him to stand, and as he wobbily got to his feet, he grew horrified as the beast stood with confidence, flowing red lines visible under its fleshy white underbelly, and a disgusting smirk on its lipless face.
With the arm Jaune had slashed at, it reached down and grasped the pole of its monstrous hammer, dragging the weapon behind it as it slowly and purposefully stalked forward towards Jaune.
Jaune was too dazed, and with a crack, fell to his knees as his left shin snapped, the force of the weird attack from the beast having twisted his leg horribly.
Unable to move, he sat there on his knees, eyes closed tight as he awaited the blow from the beast that would inevitably send him back to the Bonfire, to fight the beast once more.
Why...why him? He felt something cold in his chest become like ice, and a feeling of great despair befell him. Would, would he have to do this over and over again? He couldn't do this! How could he, him, possibly do this!
He should've listened to his father, and stayed back home outside Mistral's boundaries, he should've never left to be a Huntsman!
Awaiting the hammer blow to fall, he wasn't disappointed as he was sent flying back, but as he collided with a pillar, he grew confused. He...wasn't dead? Despite the pain, he opened his eyes, and they widened into dinner plates at the sight before him.
It was Oscar, bloodied, his helmet cracked and shoulder plate having been wrenched off, by the blast no doubt, his breathing ragged as he sunk his blade to the hilt into the underbelly of the beast, having made it lean onto its leg Jaune had slashed into, and no doubt being the cause for it having missed Jaune.
The beast wasn't planning on letting the rodent savor this.
With a growl of utter fury, the beast wrenched back the hammer, lifting it up and slamming the end of the pole into Oscar's chest.
Jaune felt something inside him slowly tighten at that, and the knight-voice's cold silence only twisted it further. He...he failed.
Dull blue eyes widened as the chill within him made him numb, and, ignoring the pain in his broken leg, slowly began to hobble towards the beast, his eyes locked onto the face of Oscar, a massive trail of blood staining his mouth and floor beneath him as he lied unmoving beneath the beast.
Not even making it a quarter of the way there, the beast slid the pole of the hammer across the floor, Oscar still attached, and flung him towards a pillar, where he collided into it with a sickening crack.
Jaune snapped. Flames burned behind his eyes, horribly cold and volcanic-ly hot, and his sight went hazy behind black flaming tendrils in his vision.
KILL IT!
What terrified Jaune through his fiery rage was that that wasn't knight-voice's words in his head, but his own, distorted but noticeably his voice. The thoughts of fear were quickly burned, along with all senses of pain, and every spike that shot through his broken leg was no longer registered as a breakage, but instead as a spike of fury that traveled to his unbeating heart.
His sword raised, and the beast roared in pain as the shining silver steel came down in a fluid arc, cutting into the beast's abused stomach like a hot knife through butter. What was not registered in his brain was how each stroke of the blade sent a streak of glittering green light with it, and how each thud and shake of his arm seemed to only make him swing more savagely than before.
Fire roared in his ears and ice gripped his chest, the need for air and rest no longer registered in his brain, and as his muscles tore and the bones in his arms snapped, he still swung his green glowing blade.
Within moments, the beast fell to its knees, the ability to stand lost as one leg was severed at the knee, and the other was still only attached by strands of meaty muscle and flesh. It's only method of staying upright was to use its long hammer as a crutch, and it feebly attempted to stab the rage fueled Undead with the pole end.
Jaune felt something along side the fury spread throughout his body, a cold vine coiling around something within his chest -his heart?-, and he felt saw through the blood red haze of his sight the beast finally fall, and only when he was left standing in a cloud of white particles did he finally stop swinging, the sword scratched and blunted, blood and gore coating his frame, and his eyes a blazing inferno of orange.
Without his knowledge, he had grabbed something as the beast exploded into the white particles, which soon slithered into him like comforting serpents, and he was left clutching a thin fiery white orb that trailed up like a long candle flame, but much more chaotic and broiling.
The orb burned his hands, but even as he attempted to take the time to admire it, and attempt to rationalize what had happened, his hands began to squeeze without his consent, and as his eyes widened in panic, the soul burst in a burning orange-white stream of clumped particles, slamming into his chest and forcing the most painful burning sensation Jaune had ever felt begin to brand itself inside his chest.
Something thick and heavy began to coil within his arms, and as it built up he crossed them in front of his chest, hugging into himself as the pain threatened to cause him to burst. His eyes opened as a gasp of utter agony escaped him, and as the pressure reached its peak within his arms, he let out a familiar, haunting scream as blood red energy sent broken brick and chips of wood flying, violent and chaotic.
The pain proved too much, and he found his vision fading to black...is that a crow?...
Coming to his senses, Jaune blinked, falling to his knees as he wretched, vomit pooling onto the mossy cobblestone floor, his eyes throbbing something fierce and his mind a fuzzy mess of pins and needles, his chest burning like ice, oddly enough.
"What...was that!?"
"That was merely a glimpse of the power you had attained once." Jaune stayed on his knees, his throat burning raw. Only after a pleasant tingling wrapped around and inside his neck eased the pain -his Aura, as he realised a second later-, was when stood up, albeit shakily. He hadn't gotten to look at Bildnis as she spoke, but he could tell from the tone that she seemed content, if tinged with a small amount of concern.
He was halfway up when a strong, hard hand clamped down on his arm and lifted him up fully, but not unkindly. Looking at his helper, Jaune gulped as his eyes met the same wolf like helm of the black knight before staring back, and the fiery orange orbs of eyes seemed to burn like literal flames, leaving small trails of orange to rise up past the orbs and into the shadows of the helm.
Jaune took a step back, taking a deep breath as a wave of cold calm swept through his chest, letting the breath out slowly as his throat no longer threatened to make him cough blood.
"Alright, I'm good, I'm good…" Jaune took another second to compose himself, standing straight and his eyes flickering from the black knight before him to Bildnis, who was standing by the Bonfire...of whatever this place was. He still hadn't gotten the name.
The black knight walked across the moss and grass covered stone, sitting against the lip of a well with only the clicks of his metal heels against the floor to signify his sudden change. Jaune clenched his fist as the two practical strangers exchanged a glance for several seconds, Bildnis's hidden gaze and emotionless expression giving away nothing while the Black, as he decided to call him, simply clenched and unclenched his clawed hands slowly, one slowly twitching towards his hip, as if searching for a weapon. After several seconds, they turned their attention to Jaune himself.
He would get his answers. Now.
Taking a seat on the steps, Bildnis walked back to her boulder by the shattered wall, taking a seat quietly, but never taking her unseen gaze off of Jaune.
"I want answers. No teasing me with it, no pushing me over ledges-" He didn't miss the sharp look Black gave Bildnis, if the sudden turn of his helm to the woman and clenching of his clawed fists signified anything, confusing Jaune greatly, "-you're telling me what I want to know."
Bildnis nodded, her hands clasping over her bandaged covered lap, "Of course, Jaune, ask what you will." Odd, she didn't call him 'Little Ash'. Eh, it wasn't a big deal.
"First...what is this place?" Bildnis seemed to find his question funny, but stopped her small giggles as both Jaune and Black leveled annoyed glares at the scantily covered woman.
"This is Firelink Shrine, home to the Firekeepers and safe haven for the brave Undead who undertake the Journey to rekindle the Flame." Black seemed to radiate hate at the mention of the Flame, whatever it is.
"Alright, so why have I never heard of this place? I highly doubt any archaeologist would leave this place alone…" The lands of the Time before Aura have been one of the most sought after mysteries to exist, second only to the mysteries that Aura holds and the 'how' to end the Grimm once and for all, so surely an old time relic such as this place wouldn't be so overlooked, especially if it has an inhabitant like Bildnis, right?
"The answer to that question, Jaune, is both simple and difficult to explain." Jaune cocked his head to the side and motioned with his hand for Bildnis to continue. "To put it simply, Firelink Shrine isn't a...part of the world, as it is perceived by the mortals that inhabit it." That...wasn't exactly simple.
"So, what? It's some kind of, I dunno, separate world?" Bildnis began to shake her head, but stopped. "I suppose that is one way to look at it.
"Firelink Shrine is, in the best way I can explain it, an anchor. An anchor that connects to all probable realities." She reached to the ground and lifted up two twigs, holding both in between her fingers, "Take my hand, it is the anchor, and the twigs, two realities. Without my hand to hold it there, the twigs would simply fall to the ground. Wherever my hand goes, the twigs follow, such as where Firelink goes, the realities also follow." Okay...he kind of got it?
"Simply put, it exists outside of the influence of time and reality, while also connected to all probably realities of time and reality." Magic, got it.
Jaune shook his head, a wry smile on his face. His day is just getting better and better...first he's some kind of monster from legend, and now a time breaking shrine? Sigh.
"Alright, and why am I Undead? I mean, every child born outside the protection of the Kingdoms has heard of them, but everyone thought they were simply a myth-" Black flinched at that, "-so why me? And don't Undead never die? Why have we never seen any?" Bildnis simply turned her gaze to Black, who pointedly never looked up from the ground, his clawed fists resting on his chainmail skirt.
"I suppose to answer that, we should delve into a bit of history." Bildnis stood up, and cupped her hands before her stomach, walking silently around the Bonfire in the center of the ring of steps, raising one tattooed hand before the hilt of the coiled sword, and to his and Black's surprise, the tattoos wavered and a drop of black hit the handle, sizzling as it touched the hot metal.
Instead of sizzling in the flames, it instead began to expand, slithering around the sword and turning the flames a steadily darkening gray. As the last tips of the lazy flames became a steadily darkening gray, the steps around it, including the air, began to shimmer and become hazy.
Jaune's eyes widened, and he was quite certain Black's did to, as a large sphere of shimmering energy encased the now dark gray flames, solidifying into the same fog that had encased the doorways from the prison he had just fought through.
Instead of darkening, the solid fog cleared and instead began to reveal an image...giant trees? Before he could ask, Bildnis spoke once more.
"In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog." The fog cleared away to reveal a barren land, gray and cracked, with thick clouds in the sky where the numerous gray trees speared through the sky, the middles of the tree probably way past the cloudy skies.
"A land of gray crags, archtrees...and everlasting dragons." Fading to a view that rose up something gray and solid, Jaune unconsciously clenched his fists as a pair of large, stone like wings and a thick, long, hairy neck reached curling white horns and a still, monstrous face.
Bildnis had walked behind the orb, blocking their view of her, and yet their eyes were glued to the orb, but they could clearly hear her voice as it began to take on a haunting story teller tone.
"But then there was fire...and with Fire, came Disparity." The orb dived into an 'archtree', becoming pitch black except for a few sparks of flame. "Heat and cold, life and death, and of course...:Light and Dark."
The orb suddenly panned into the bottom of the tree, revealing a great cavern filled a line of bright, steadily burning fire...a great fire.
"Then, from the Dark, They came," Horrifically skinny humanoids began to stand, warily, unsteady, and yet they all began to stare into the Fire, their silhouettes steadily growing in number, "and found the Souls of Lords within the flame."
At this, the shadowy sludge of the floor within the orb began to shift, revealing the shadows to be a long coat of matted, rough black hair...over a humongous skeleton. With one large skull framed by several smaller skulls, a chest made of several dozen rib cages and full skeletons, and within it's black hair matted bone hand, a small but incredibly powerful looking line of fire within its grasp.
"Nito, the first of the dead," Now the orb revealed a dark skinned woman covered in dark robes, only the bottom half of her face revealed as her gold lined hood and robes covered all but her lower face and hands, which were burned something horrible, as another powerful flame was held within her hands. Surrounding her were seven figures, all in a seated reverence to the woman, two holding long staves.
"The Witch of Izalith, and her Daughters of Chaos," The new image made Jaune jump, both as a rising sense of hostility rose in his chest, and a low, dangerous growl escaped the confines of the wolf helm of Black.
It was a man, with a long golden crown atop his head of long white hair, with a regal set of robe like armor, and a huge, incredibly powerful looking orb of flame in front of his clasped hands. Behind him, what had to be thousands of silver clad warriors stood at attention, their long helms revealing nothing and elegantly forged silver swords clasped in their hands. Jaune could barely breathe, more from the steadily rising anger that came from Black, and Jaune's slowly rising, but relatively low, hostility.
"Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights,..." The next view showed dirt, slightly burned hands holding a puny, almost ember like flame within them. "And the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten…" Jaune felt something inside him stir as he looked upon this puny, silhouetted figure before the great flame. Something cold, familiar.
"With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons." A silver knight, as he took to calling them, with the view centered upon his elegantly carved gauntlet and beautiful silver sword, readied himself before a rising dragon, which bore four wings, and seemed to be like that of a giant before an ant.
Jaune did not doubt that the knight failed.
With a primal roar from the dragon, the view again changed to Gwyn, rising back as a bolt of lightning formed in his closed hand, several hundred much tinier bolts in the hands of the knights behind him, being thrown towards a steadily growing murder of dragons within the sky.
"Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales." As scales, horns and pale flesh began to be revealed from each dragon struck by the lightning, Jaune, and a reluctant Black, could not help but feel impressed by the display.
"The witches weaved great firestorms." And the great trees burned, their tips now visible within the burning lands, piles of burning ash and shattering archtrees filling the orb, with the seven Daughters kneeled behind the Witch, waving their staves.
"Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease." The skeleton lord, as he appeared, raised a scythe like blade as the ground before him rotted and a wind was propelled from his body, sending burnt scales, bark and ash everywhere.
The next view greatly surprised Jaune, as a sense of familiarity struck him much like it did for the others that were introduced within the orb, a fleshy beast crushing a pile of fragile scales within a bloody, fleshy hand. The view then panned out, revealing a dragon, but this one bare of stone like scales, and bearing four beautiful, frail looking wings, and yet no visible legs, sitting atop a pile of dead and flaking dragons.
It roared, and Jaune shivered.
"And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the dragons were no more." The view faded to white, revealing a beautiful kingdom encompassed by a circular wall, and built into a rising mountain, the gray and lifeless wasteland from before now green and lush.
Jaune bit back his surprised gasp as the architecture from the massive castle like structures atop the rising mountain resembled that of the architecture of Beacon immensely. Perhaps Beacon took after them?
"Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain." Whatever Bildnis was going to say after this died and abrupt end, as Black gave a shout of pure, unbridled anger, a dagger flying from his black claws, from somewhere, and flying into the orb, dispersing it in a show of white and multiple grand colors, revealing the dagger buried into the stone pillar next to Bildnis, who revealed no outward emotion yet never looked away from Black.
Snarling, Black stomped away, and towards the cathedral like building atop the hill. Confused, as well as a little scared, Jaune stayed quiet and watched.
Sighing, Bildnis glanced at the simple dagger embedded in the stone next to her, walked past it and stood before Jaune, as the Bonfire once more returned to its normal, lazy flickering and coiled sword buried within it.
Jaune became even more curious, with more questions dying to be spoken, but Bildnis answered first.
"Jaune...the world you know, is nothing more than a child in the face of its true past. Ignorant, though not of their own volition, you know nothing of Lordran, its horrors, wonders and vast history. And for a long while, it seemed it would remain that way. No Undead, no Demons. Dark, yes, but nothing like it once was.
"But it seems that peace will no longer last." Jaune put a hand to the ring burnt into his arm, and he took an odd sense of comfort from its Hollow like feel. It...it just made him feel...like him, he supposed. That this was all real, and that he was who he was. It is hard to explain.
"Jaune, that knight, who bears armor burnt black, carries a burden he only desperately wished to be rid of. To pursue his dreams, hopes, and burden, he had to become what some would consider a hero, and others a cursed fool." Bildnis seemed genuinely sad at this, and Jaune felt something ache in his chest with those words.
"The Fire was everything of Lordran, it meant everything to the Lords, who had been rebirthed into Godhood by the Flame, and with their influence and power, it meant everything to the races of man. Yet, for no how magical, wondrous and life creating the Flame was, it was still fire. And all fire fades eventually, with nothing to burn.
"As you could guess, the Flame required no ordinary material to stay alight, and it took the Gods only short time to figure out what it could be." Bildnis almost imperceptibly looked down, gazing into Jaune's chest.
"Souls. The Flame required souls, powerful souls, to sustain it. Unwilling to part with their power, the Witch and her Daughters attempted to birth a new Flame, but ultimately failed, for one, not even Gods, can create that which creates Light, and with it, life.
"The Witch became engulfed in her failed magic, becoming the Mother of a new kind of life, a twisted, malformed life; Demons. The Chaos Flame. She became only one of many problems for those of the Light. Undead, formed from the Darkness within Man, became what they were as the Light began to fail, allowing Dark to slip into the lands and its denizens.
Undead were hunted, killed, and shamed, but in their unwanted immortality, the Living could not spare the effort to kill and kill and kill the same Undead over and over until the body simply gave up and remained unmoving, still living in a way, but incapable of moving. So, the Living built great prisons, to house the Undead to the end of days, which steadily came to be, as the Flame failed, and more and more found themselves branded by the sign of the Unliving. Realising the possibilities for the Undead, legends grew, rumors, gossip, tales and folktales, all came to the firelight as the great Lords realised that perhaps, maybe, the Undead could solve their problem. They can rip out souls, after all.
"And so the knight of burnt armor found himself on his path, in an effort to appease his Gods, and hopefully break the curse. He failed, even as the Flame remained lit through his efforts. Pleased, the Gods made him relive his path cycle after cycle, always him rekindling the Flame, even when he was on the verge of breaking. But he persisted, and the Flame remained lit. And yet, one cannot force a man upon the same path of self torture indefinitely, and the knight simply quit, allowing the Flame to fade, and Dark to reign."
Jaune's eyes widened. The Great Shadow, one of the greatest mysteries of Remnant, one of the greatest questions; who were we before? Bildnis was right, no one on Remnant knew of life before the Great Shadow, no one knew who ruled, what happened, nothing. There were ruins, great ancient caverns and tombs and rotted villages, crumbled cathedrals and more, torturing Mankind with scratches and the barest hints of life before.
"An Age of Dark…" Bildnis nodded at his muttered words. It made a lot of sense. The past of Remnant was shrouded in shadow, yet the concept of Light and Dark existed, tales of Undead were still told, and apparently architecture was the same as much of the past. The Six Kingdoms and their mysterious past. Now that he thought of it...a knight of burnt armor…
"You mean him...what is his name?" Surely such a man had a title, if nothing else. Now that he thought on it, all that had been revealed so far, he felt something stir in his chest and mind. A form of understanding, acceptance, and agreement. He knew these things to be true, and yet he only learned of them now.
He had to know, he needed to know.
"His name is as lost to time as is the name of Lordran. To appease you, and hopefully him as well, one name he was known for...was Chosen." Bildnis shook her head. "I admit, I do not believe such a name would please him, for it was a title granted to the man for his burdened path."
Jaune took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes meeting the covered eyes of Bildnis.
"Tell me, please...why me?"
"Because, dear Jaune, you and Chosen are one and the same." What? He, Jaune Miles Arc, was the same as Chosen? The mysterious, raspy, kind of terrifying man in black armor? Sensing his confusion, Bildnis spoke.
"I do not believe he would be so happy to hear me speak of his past so freely, so I will tell you what will help you understand, but the rest, the true details, I shall leave that for him to share of his own volition.
"Chosen failed, allowing the Dark to reign and the Flame to fade entirely. This did not please the Gods, and they showed no mercy for the man they willingly tortured to continue their selfish reign, and so, they punished him. He would forever remain Undead, and only reawaken upon a time he is needed. That time has come, and as such, led to your birth, for you to be the vessel for his soul, his new life." Bildnis took a step forward, getting rather close to Jaune, and he could've swore she smelled like strawberries. Odd.
"You, dear Jaune, are Chosen, in and out, only with a secondary soul to run the body before his reawakening. I shall be honest, I am only able to grasp at the possibilities for why the Gods brought him-you, back at this moment, and no, it has nothing to do with the Great Flame itself. I shall answer more on the Great Flame at a later date, so please, no questions on it." Jaune shut his mouth.
"By allowing Dark to reign, the Undead were no more, the concept of Life and Death faded, time faded, realities shattered and became enshrouded in eternal darkness. Until now, in a world that reclaimed the Light, but without any need for the Flame, and as such, the New Light that was born does not birth the Undead curse into the Living. Except for you.
"As his punishment, the Gods sealed Chosen away, his soul still marred by the curse of Undeath, and has now been reawoken in you, to bear the curse and its suffering, and in an attempt to control you.
"But the Gods are silent, Darkness still rules, Grimm I believe you call them, and the Flame no longer exists to fight it. But. Just because there is no Flame, does not mean there is no Light." Bildnis placed a hand on his shoulder, 'staring' back into his eyes.
"That is all I can answer for now, and I apologize for it. You must reawaken and continue your journey amongst your own world, and do not worry. Chosen shall be with you every step of the way, bringing back who you once were, and protecting you. And I shall be here, so that when you wish, in a time of peace, you may come back to Firelink Shrine, and we may converse, train or whatever you wish. Simply place your hand upon the hilt of the coiled sword, and wish upon the world you know, and you shall return. I do await your next visit." That didn't make him blush, definitely didn't, although he did sigh in disappointment.
"I...I see. Thank you, Bildnis, but may I impose upon you, only one more question?" Bildnis nodded slowly, and he felt incredibly thankful for it.
"How...how did you do that? Push me into that prison, the orb, the memories, all of that...how do you do it?" At this, Bildnis gave a beautiful smile, before it fell to a playful smirk and she poked his chest.
"Magic."
He couldn't help it. Even as his chest felt colder than before, even as he now realised it was harder to smile, and that the fiery emotions within him that once tried to argue against what he was facing were now silenced through his little 'journey', he laughed. Of course, he thought, why not magic as well?
As he walked towards the Bonfire, confidently lifting his hand before the hilt, something he noticed but had finally managed to push to the back of his mind, simply letting whatever happens happen, and focused on the last thing he saw -the forest from the sky- he warped away in a haze of golden and red flames, missing the gaze within Bildnis's covered face.
As another sound of the warp for Chosen to join Jaune sounded by the cathedral, she sat atop her boulder, alone, hands clasped in her bandage covered lap.
As the silent sounds of the world around her reigned, and the faint caws of the Crow sounded in the sky above, she simply stared at the Bonfire in longing.
"I hope to see you again soon...old friend."
It had been only a few minutes, but Jaune had made decent progress through the forest. He had awoken to a dull ache, most likely by whatever killed him, and the position of his body upon awakening, but it was nothing a minute or so of stretches couldn't fix.
He was pleasantly surprised to find the Estus flask in a pouch on his belt, and began to wonder at the possibilities of what he could bring with him after each visit to Bildnis.
Do not be so greedy, only pure magic items may be able to materialize within your plane of reality.
Wait, what? And why are you talking so clearly now? Jaune began to unconsciously fast-walk his way through the destroyed forest as Chosen's voice spoke within his head. Raspy, but without any pause, and much more formed.
I-your, urgh. Our past endeavours are linked in soul and body, even should You be of new body and different soul. We are one and the same, and the magics of My world, the past of this...Remnant, still resonates in our souls and blood. It seems through Lady Bildnis's magics that we now have our Estus flask back. As for my voice, it seems absorption of that Demon's soul has healed me of my impairment.
How do you know all this? This would undoubtedly be helpful, and the base concept was pretty simple, but it was incredibly confusing. An added bonus was that Chosen would no longer take forever to talk.
I have rather...intimate, knowledge about subjects of the soul and the magics that involve them. He could hear Chosen release a shaky sigh, mixed with fury and tinges of sorrow. Those despicable disgraces for deific beings cursed me for mistake, and by locking away my soul into the very depths of their infernal Lock.
'Mistake'? What did you do? There isn't much known on ancient deities but Chosen-he, had to have done something to earn the ire of Gods…
I solved their problem, but in consequence, they would have lost their status.
Elaborate. Crocea cleaved through a branch that got in his way, but he did not notice as it was an unconscious swing.
The Undead Curse, it is a Curse empowered by Darkness for as long as Flame still burns, and it was only after I had realized that I let the Flame burn out what had happened. But, in the one haven I managed to find acceptance in, it had kept my, our, Curse still branded on us, and as punishment, they sealed me away, in a Lock of their creation, that harbored Flame, so that our Curse still brands us even as others lost their Brand.
Now that is just wrong…
But, why would they do such a thing?
Power. By losing the Flame, they lose their power, and by losing their power, they lose their Godhood.
Such cruelty for so called Gods...Jaune wasn't painting a very decent picture of these beings.
Jaune refocused as an ear splitting screech entered his ears, and his eyes widened as the Mother of all Scorpions entered his sight, his form still hidden by the ruined tree line, but his view of the clearing uninhibited.
Incredibly large, moss covered and very clearly furious, the large scorpion lashed out at several familiar faces, causing his grip on Crocea Mors to tighten enough to crack his knuckles. Pyrrha was sweating, her form dodging and attempting to find openings within the scorpion's carapace, but frequent stabs from the golden stinger and humongous claws kept her at bay.
All of those that he had met and made a form of friendship from his short stay within Beacon were there, and an ear splitting screech from above drew his eyes to even more familiar faces, mostly of Yang and Ruby as they, White and Black fought with an overgrown bird. Damn, he forgot their names. But they seemed to be capable of handling the bird.
Turning to the three in his front, fighting the large scorpion, he made his decision and tensed his legs.
The size and ferocity of it reminded him of the beast from the prison, and he felt something begin to simmer deep in his arms, but he ignored it, thinking it nothing more than tense muscles. No, no turning back now. This was no time to hide, but, he couldn't rush in without a plan.
This time, this time he will save his comrades.
Let us deal with this beast.
With pleasure.
And cut. This came out better than I thought, in all honesty.
I am well aware that there are several canon facts I am not using correctly, such as Ozpin's remark on Jaune being eaten by Grimm. What makes Grimm terrifying is that they have no need for food, but instead only kill for the sake of killing, but I have something that may just make a Grimm's need to eat in this world make sense: Negativity.
Grimm are fueled by the stuff, it's what gives them the reason to hunt and kill Man, but what if there were more ways they could get it? Such as, say, eating their target? Able to absorb the negativity straight from the person as long as they are eaten while alive, or freshly killed. They absorb it passively from people who are feeling negatively, but can get it directly by eating a person. Make sense? I hope so.
This was pointed out by Axcel, a Guest reviewer. And these next ones are for him/her, as well as you lovely readers:
The Gods and their "punishment". Simply put, in my eyes, I can't see Gods of the Dark Souls universe (all of them, because of the weird, multi-universe stuff present in lore) being decent beings at all when it comes to Undead, outside of manipulating the Undead for their own purposes. As beings who gained their power from the Flame, having to deal with humans that have succumbed to a curse of Darkness doesn't seem very ideal for the great and powerful beings, that and they just seem like the arrogant, power hungry type. That, and really? They mistreated, no doubt neglected, and imprisoned poor innocent Priscilla. That's a crime of the highest degree.
But that is my view on them as my own person, and am attempting to put that view through the view of someone who has serious hate for the beings. Other than that, I am attempting to make the Gods as something more worthy of their Dark Souls existence.
The view on Gods so far, as I've attempted to write clearly, and shall now make all capital letters, ARE ONLY VIEWED THIS WAY FROM HE WHO SUFFERS MOST FROM THEM. Chosen/Jaune definitely hasn't had the best experiences with the beings, steadfastly believing the Gods have forced him to rekindle the Flame simply so they can keep their positions of power, unaware that there were possibly hundreds of other candidates who could have taken the mantle of rekindling the Flame.
He simply acted on it first, and took the burden, in a misguided sense of being forced, where instead of the Gods forcing him, he is instead forcing himself to undergo the trials to rekindle the Flame. He never gave anyone else the chance to do so. By doing so, the Gods did indeed make a mistake: they became dependent on Chosen. They never forced him to do so, but they just got so used to Chosen taking up the mantle that they would encourage him to continue so, simply because no one else ever got the chance to prove themselves. And in Chosen/Jaune's misguided view, he believed the Gods to be arrogant creatures that only wanted to torture him, and this leads to the punishment.
Laziness, and a form of dependence upon one thing never leads to good endings, especially when that one thing is a mentally dispairing man who truly despises you but sees no other way but to continue forwards. When Chosen/Jaune inevitable failed, falling for the waifu Priscilla, the Gods felt their world crumble and fears be known because of Chosen, unaware that they became to reliant on one man to continue burning for a thousand years.
In unjust anger, they punished Chosen/Jaune, tearing him from his love and forcing him to keep his Curse where others would lose theirs, and this dear readers, is where the Hate comes in.
But how many years have passed since then? Hundreds? Thousands? Are the ancient Gods dead, in hiding, have they forgiven Chosen? Are they in self exile? Are they in fear of meeting Chosen again, their mortality closer than ever with no Flame to empower them, and despising themselves for their foolishness? Who knows.
Another clarification: The lore of Dark Souls is always told through passed down stories, snippets of history that has changed through the years, and only known through the eyes of the person and their beliefs. The Heretic? Chosen and his hate? All of them believe what they believe as fact because of the way their beliefs and experiences work.
Onto Priscilla. Let's be honest here, Dark Souls is a shitty world to live in, and being a half-dragon hybrid would oh most definitely not give you a good life. Prisoned in a lonely, cold painted world, Priscilla would probably (definitely) not have had much experience with true joy, as well as love, the same goes for Chosen. Two beings who have never truly known the beauty and sweetness of love who fall in love with each other? I can gurantee you there will be clinginess and yandere-ish moments. I highly doubt Priscilla would take the idea of someone, say Pyrrha, being in love with her Jaune well. That and she has a big scythe, can go invisible, and has a health sucking ability, so yeah. She'll be scary.
As for the "memories", or actual Dark Souls moments, I do plan to end up making each in one chapter only, so I don't waste too many chapters in one location that will be forgotten in the next chapter or so. Now, if the location is big enough, or I have reason to make it over multiple chapters, then those reasons will be known, but for the most part, each future Dark Souls location segment will be in one chapter, this includes interactions with Bildnis, the woman I am shaping up to be a waifu.
These are all that I think and have come to mind thanks to Axcel, thanks for asking buddy. Sorry if these are wacky or whatnot, but I responded to these as best I can and am happy to share them.
Do expect a more emotionless Jaune in the future, Chosen and he are the same person, so personalities will begin to match soon enough.
A big thanks to Yang Xiao Longer, awesome as always, and toodles my doodles.
