"Dear god, you smell."
They were huddled next to each other, hidden behind some brush, as they watched the movements of the Darkwraiths in front of them. They were trying to find a break in their patterned patrol; enough that they could slip into the Keep. The Darkwraiths were formidable foes, and best avoided, if possible.
"Thank you for pointing out the obvious." He leaned in to whisper, causing her to put her hand over her mouth, gagging.
"I have no idea how you attract so many women. Nor do I understand why they keep believing your obvious lies."
He grinned. "Says the girl who was quite smitten with me at the beginning."
Her head slowly turned towards him; her eyes narrowed. "That was right after I woke up from being dead, and my mental faculties were diminished."
He scoffed, giving her a disgusted look. "How uncouth."
She rolled her eyes, turning back towards the black, mutated remnants of great warriors from a time long passed. It appears they would reach towards the stone stairs, stepping over the mutilated corpses of the demon, goat-men, then turn around and proceed down the pathway. She watched as they passed, and grabbed Randull, pulling him along the edge of a small cliff. The Darkwraiths paid no notice, and they hurried up the stairs to the entrance.
She loaded her crossbow, as he pushed the heavy, wooden doors open. A loud creaking resonated inside, and she stepped past him, her sights aimed on any movement. The chamber was massive; torches sporadically lit the walls, causing eerie shadows to bounce around. Randull rushed in behind her, and the doors swung close, creating a massive noise that made them both shutter.
She stepped forward, tripping on something soft. He reached out, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling. While steadying herself, she looked down...and froze.
Bodies littered the ground. Her eyes squinted. They were everywhere. The corpses were identical to the other; each wearing a reddish-black, leather armor, with metal reinforcements woven in at critical points. Along their backs were tatter, red capes. A clanging of metal caused her eyes to snap forward.
There were two of these…men, engaged in combat. She watched as the victor shoved a large greatsword through the chest of his assailant. She looked at Randull, who looked back at her; their eyes both wide, in astonishment.
They were so dead.
The victor slowly turned towards them, raising his long, greatsword with one hand, while crossing the left at the elbow. It held a small dagger. She blinked. The next thing she remembered was a hand on her shoulder, and a greatsword plunging through her abdomen. The victor growled in her ear.
"Weak…"
They needed help, this much was true. After four attempts, each ending up in outright slaughter, Randull had went back to the shrine to restock their items. She dug in her pockets, feeling around for the chalky-soap sticks she had bought from the hand maiden.
She couldn't quite remember, but she was pretty sure you used these to summon "others". Each potential "champion of the flame" seemed to split from the focal point of shrine, creating alternative realities, which mimicked each other.
She scratched her head. Even Orbeck had a hard time grasping the concept.
She pulled out a red and white stick. Her eyebrows furrowed. Shit.
"Well, my hair is red, so I'll go with red. If I'm wrong, then I guess I'll end up back here."
She bent down on the stone floor. What would she write? She bit her bottom lip, thinking.
"Need Assistance – Possessed Assholes"
Sounds good.
She put the soap sticks back into her pocket, and sat on the ground, patiently waiting for a figure to rise from the words. The sounds of the swamp and demon, goat-men would occasionally echo in the distance. Her head was propped up by her palms, and she found her eyelids slowly becoming heavier.
Nothing.
"Well, this was a-"
She felt a tingling over her body. Looking down, she noticed a red haze beginning to cover her.
"Fuck…"
Oh…this was not good. NOT…GOOD…
She had been summoned as an invader, by accident. By her uncanny ability to do the stupidest things possible. Her hands were gripping her hair, as she ran around in a circle on a small island in the swamp, fully panicked. Around her she saw the disgusting, horrifying goat-men, lingering in the trees, and behind the rotting vegetation that dripped off the trunks. They, however, took no notice of her.
Which was beneficial, since she had left her crossbow back at the bonfire…in an entirely different reality.
Weaponless and marked as an invader. She was a dead man walking.
"The black crystal!"
She felt along her pockets, digging into her satchel at the side.
"Oh no…no, no, no…."
Gone.
She fell on her knees, letting the cold moisture of the soil below her seep in through her cloth armor. She was stuck, stranded. The only thing she could do was hope for a swift death.
The distant ping of metal clashing was heard in the distance. She stood up, slowly making her way towards the noise. The poisonous water had no effect on her.
"Must be the red haze…"
She sloshed through the swamp, getting nearer and nearer to the sounds of combat. Ducking behind a large trunk, she peaked around. A fully armors figure, in knight's attire, was engaged in battle with a Darkwraith.
They were losing.
The knight took a blow to the side, and Scarlet heard a feminine grunt resonate, as the figure flew across, crashing into a tree opposite of where she was hidden. The Darkwraith slowly strode forward, grabbing the unconscious woman by the arm, lifting her up as it readied to plunge its blade into her armored chest.
A large rock thrown at its head knocked it off balance, and the knight crumpled back on the ground. It slowly turned, the red, murderous eyes focusing in on Scarlet.
She stood there for only a moment, before taking off, back in the direction she had come from. The fast-paced footsteps of her pursuer taunted her from behind. Sweat rolled down her face…she had to keep going.
Something shoved her, and she went face-first into the disgusting swamp water. The clang of a sword being unsheathed cut through the eerie silence, and she closed her eyes, awaiting her eminent death.
A few bodies splashed next to her, and she heard the Darkwraith wail in frustration. She looked up; the demon goat-men had ambushed her attacker. This was her opportunity to sneak off. She pulled herself to her feet, running as fast as she could up a small, cliff that jetted out of the swamp.
Her neck twisted around, making sure that nothing followed her. The Ghru were busily ripping the Darkwraith to shreds; one of its arms was torn from its socket, and strewn across water, smacking into a tree. She turned back around.
"Whoa!"
She tumbled off the side of the cliff, landing on the hard ground and whacking her head against the stone. She instantly saw black.
She came to later, curled into herself, shivering from the cold, muddy soil below her. She heard the crunching of footsteps, and saw two reflective, silver boots invade her vision.
"Thou hath saved me from my destined death. And for that, I should spare thy life."
The woman removed her helmet, letting it fall to the side. Beautiful, wavy blonde hair tumbled out. Sky blue eyes locked in on hers, set within an eloquent and refined face. Memories slipped in from the recesses of Scarlet's mind, and her body twitched from the pain that came with. This woman…she knew her.
"However, thou do bear the mark of something my convenient greatly desires. My apologies."
Tears streamed as she rolled over, letting her arms fall to the side in defeat. She saw the glimmer of metal raise above her, and she closed her eyes, accepting her fate. The women standing over her did not remember, and perhaps, that was for the best.
The sword fell on the ground next to her.
A painful grunt was heard, followed by the sick sound of metal scraping bones. A bloody gurgle resonated, and she felt a body hit the ground near her. The smell of an unkindled, burning into ashes, filled her senses.
She opened her eyes. A silver mask, covered in a red haze was gazing upon her. Piercing blue eyes met hers.
"I am beginning to think that invasions may not be your specialty, my lady."
She looked over to the disintegrating figure next to her. Golden locks began to slowly dissipate, leaving nothing but ash. She lifted her torso, pulling herself to the small, flickering soul left in the woman's wake. She cradled it in her hands, tears beginning to fall.
"May I have this, please?" She looked up at the rogue, an expression of pain and brokenness on her face.
He nodded, kneeling next to her, as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "My lady, what happened?"
The bright, yellow soul flickered, exuberating a familiar warmness she had long forgotten.
She looked back at him. "You killed my sister."
His companion had been melancholy ever since she returned with the Ringfinger from her accidental invasion. They had beaten the Abyss Watchers, and were, currently, pushing forward into the depths of the catacombs below. He had attempted conversations with her, but the most she could muster as a response was a forced, broken grin.
His legs reluctantly climbed the stairs of the shrine. He loathed this man…
"Ashen One, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?"
"Shut it, Finger. What happened with Scarlet? And how is it you keep finding her during invasions?"
The rogue looked the other direction, gazing down into the depths of the shrine. She was, no doubt, speaking with the sorcerer, attempting to find the answers she, now, desperately sought. What had transpired pained him; he was not familiar with guilt.
"I believe…some of her memory resurfaced."
He flipped his visor up, giving Leonhard an incredulous look. "You're kidding?"
The silver mask glimmered in the candle light, as he shook his head. "That is not all. When I found her, the host was ready to plunge their blade into her chest. I disposed of them, naturally…"
Randull rolled his eyes. This man was simply a chore to speak to. Why Scarlet willingly sought his company, he would never understand.
"However, she knew this woman."
"A woman? Who?"
He shrugged, pushing off the pedestal to move towards the edge of the overlook. "She claimed it was her sister. That is all I know."
"Why didn't you ask?"
He turned towards his dull acquaintance. "Because she will speak when she is ready to, not when I tell her to."
Randull sneered, irritated.
"As to your second inquiry; I marked her, by a means I feel unnecessary to elucidate, especially to those with limited cognitive aptitudes. It allows me to pinpoint her location, should she ever invade, or be invaded. It is a measure I felt essential for her continued protection, since your guardianship skills are considerably lacking."
His lip raised in a snarl, and his right hand itched for his blade. He would enjoy nothing more than to run it thr-
"She will seek answers, my fatuous confrère. My suggestion is to push forward into Lothric Castle, proper. Within its bowels, you will find archives which may possess the knowledge she pursues."
The rogue tilted his head, his eyes focused on the knight before him. "Unless, of course, you would prefer I escort her there…"
Randull turned away from the rogue, heading back down the stone steps. "Rot in hell, Ringfinger."
"Do come back for another visit, Ashen One. It is always a pleasure…"
"It was…suggested, that we make our way towards the Grand Archives. That will take us some time, though. I do not believe we can access that area until we have another Lord Soul."
Her depression was lessening, although their current surroundings were not doing much to help. They were huddled at the end of a small corridor in the catacombs underneath the Keep, near a long-forgotten bonfire. On the other side of the barred doorway was where she met the first of her untimely deaths in these tombs.
The large ball of bones slammed against the bars, causing her to jump. The memory of being flattened came tumbling to the forefront of her mind. She groaned.
"That's fine. At least I have a goal that consists of doing more than following you around."
He raised his visor, narrowing his eyes on her. "Once again, you act like that's a bad thing. I would have you to know, for a fact, that no less than three women would kill to be in your boots right now." He took a swig of his estus flask.
"The hand maiden doesn't count."
He choked, coughing on the glowing liquid. She laughed; the first time in weeks. She knew Randull had been worried; she simply needed time to digest the information at hand. Her mood had finally improved enough.
"I do not remember much, only that she was my sister, and that she was dead in my arms."
He lowered his flask, looking at her with widened eyes. He was not expecting this conversation so soon.
"It is simply…shocking. Nothing more. To remember another, yet they have no recollection of you. It is beyond painful."
He stood up, moving over next to her, where he seated himself again. He put an arm around her shoulder, dragging her to the side so she could lean on his cold, uncomfortable armor. She rolled her eyes but did not protest; he was doing his best to be supportive.
"Do you want me to kill him?"
She looked up at his face. "Who? Leonhard?" She grinned. "He didn't know any better, and she was going to kill me, regardless. Besides, I have been content to let him stew in his own guilt. I consider it beneficial for his mental wellbeing to experience that, particular, emotion."
He laughed, squeezing her shoulder. "You are quite vindictive, my dear."
She chuckled, evilly. "Very."
They sat there, side by side, staring into the bonfire. The sound of the ball of bones slamming into the bars near them was beginning to grate her nerves.
"So what did you tell Anri? I had left you two alone, since she is your betrothed." She was trying to hold back laughter, but a snort accidently slipped out, instead.
He groaned. "I got a look at her face. It wasn't pleasant."
"That's because she's hollow, not vain. That's just you." He shoved her off him, and she laughed. "What did she say, though?"
He sighed, his eyes returning to the bonfire. "Horace disappeared. She's being incredibly naïve with regards to his hollowing. I didn't tell her my thoughts; I was unsure if she would handle the information well."
"So, the grunter is running around the catacombs, completely insane?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I'm sure everything will just be jolly, and we have nothing to worry about."
He turned towards her, his face perplexed. "You're kidding, right?"
"I have a thing for the silent types." She turned to face him, giving him a dead serious look.
Randull stared at her. His expression riddled in confusion. After a few seconds, he erupted in laughter.
They remained in front of the fire a bit longer, before reluctantly standing up and gathering their gear. Leaving the bonfires always seemed to be the hardest part of the journey. They ducked back out into the connecting hallway, dodging the second ball of bones.
"By the way, I meant to ask you about the day you had a bucket of feces dumped on your head: did you sleep with Sirris?"
He pushed himself flat against the wall, allowing the collection of bones to pass. "Define sleep."
"You have got to be joking…"
"She pressured me."
She shot a bolt into the skeletal remains of a swordsman. Its red eyes focused on her, and it made its whirlwind attack, trying to overwhelm her with its quick movements. She hit it again, dead center into its skull, staggering it. Randull came up from behind, slicing it in two with his greatsword.
Scarlet put her hand on her hip, as she swung her crossbow over her shoulder. "Somehow, I doubt she pressured you. What about the Firekeeper?"
He shrugged. "She…doesn't, exactly…know."
Her hand smacked into her face, as she pulled it down, staring at the ceiling. "Is there anyone you haven't had sex with?"
He nervously grabbed at the back of his neck, glancing around the long, two story chamber they were standing in. "Well, there's you…"
"Irina?" Her eyes narrowed in on him. He turned from her, gradually making his way towards an exit to the right. "I hope Eygon slices your balls off."
"That…is a terrifying thought. But I think I am safe; she didn't know it was me."
"Who did she think it was?"
He grinned at her. "Hawkwood."
Her mouth formed a grimace. "That's…cruel."
He pointed at her. "Hey, it was either him or your rogue. However, I found I was unable to pull off his accent and style of speech without vomiting."
"I'm going to confiscate that ring. You were of a much better quality of character prior to wearing it."
He held his arms wide open. "My dear, this is how I am, naturally." He bowed for her, snickering in the process. She rolled her eyes, pushing past him.
Another skeletal swordsman awaited them in the next area. It was standing on an overlook, gazing out across a large ravine. She quietly crept up behind it, stopping just before it could feel her breath on its back. She heaved forward, catching it by surprise and shoving it off the cliff. She wiped her hands off, turning to Randull with a satisfied smile.
Something glimmered to her left, and she squinted her eyes. "I think that's Anri? What is she doing up there?"
Randull's gaze was focused below, at the bottom of the ravine. He crouched at the edge, straining his eyes to make out the black figure that stood in the water at the basin.
"Well, looks like we found Horace."
Scarlet knelt next to Randull, managing to make out the same observation. She glanced back up, seeing Anri staring straight ahead, not once looking at her feet.
"No offense, but your future wife doesn't seem too bright."
"Tell me about it."
They moved into the next area, creeping along the walls as to avoid the massive pile of bones in the middle. Slowly, they made their way up to Anri; Scarlet kept a few paces behind, keeping a watch for any approaching hostile.
"Perhaps he's left the catacombs? Oh, Horace, where have you run off to? Have you abandoned me? No, what a horrible thought..."
Someone has abandonment issues.
After Randull reassured his future bride that he would do all in his power to locate Horace, they left her small alcove, and proceeded to walk to the long, wooden bridge that stretch between the ravine. Scarlet looked over the edge; it was a long way down.
She nervously stepped out, placing her foot on the rickety bridge. It groaned under her weight, wobbling a bit. Her stomach churned; this was going to be difficult.
Bones snapped behind them. Randull turned, seeing a few skeletons arranging their skulls, each turning to face them, waving sharp objects in their hands. He scooped Scarlet up, sprinting across the bridge as fast as he could. The sounds of bones clicking grew louder. He threw her down, unsheathing his greatsword from his back, and took two giant swipes at the rope foundation which held the bridge in place.
Skeletons clamored after them, tripping over each other, causing a few to plummet to their second death below. Their collective weight caused the rope to snap, and they fell in a massive pile to the bottom. She crawled over to the edge, glancing to see if any had hit Horace; he remained, unfazed.
She rubbed at her hip; it ached. Sometimes Randull underestimated his strength, but in this instance, he had tossed her on top of the only jagged rock in the area. She pulled herself up, limping a bit, attempting to stretch out the bruised area. Her eyes spotted Randull, standing still, staring up at the pathway ahead of them. Something was off.
"Do you sense something?" He answered her with silence. She walked next to him reaching out to take his hand in hers. He jerked, looking down at their intertwined hands, then over to her concerned eyes. She gave his hand a squeeze.
"This…place. There is something ahead. Something I know. It is not good, I can feel it."
"Is it related to your feelings with the dead wolf in the woods?"
"Incapacitated wolf…it was not dead. And, yes."
They stood there, staring up at the corridor that emanated an uneasy, corrupted feel. She let go of his hand, proceeding to walk forward. He snatched her arm, pulling her back.
"No."
Her eyes narrowed in on his. "No? Why?"
He looked around. "I need to get you back. You can't be here."
She grabbed at his hand, trying to remove it from her arm. "Calm down, Randull. You're panicking. It's only your memories. Take a few, deep breaths." His grip tightened, and he pulled her forward, as he wrapped an arm around her back.
"There's no bonfire. By the flame, Ciaran, I need to get you out of here!"
She reached up, grabbing the sides of his face with her palms and pulling it down towards hers. His gray eyes were dilated, panicked and unfocused. "Calm…down."
His eyes snapped to hers. His breathing was raspy. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheekbones, knowing that it was a mere illusion. She briefly wondered if he even felt touch on his false skin.
A couple more blinks were made, before she saw his eyes begin to return to a normal appearance. She let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Keeping her focus, she smiled softly.
"Hey there…how is our resident philanderer feeling, hmm?"
He blinked a few more times. Suddenly, she saw his lips form a scowl, and his eyes narrow. "Philanderer? That was uncalled for, not to mention, far from true."
She laughed, tapping his face lightly with her hand. She stepped back from him, bending down to pick up her crossbow, holding her bruised hip in the process. The aching was beginning to spread; they needed a bonfire.
She loaded a bolt. "Come on, let's get this over with." She began walking up the small incline that lead to the corridor ahead. Heavy, stone doors appeared at the end of the stone hall.
"Royalty?"
Randull nodded, still trying to gather his wits from his temporary lapse in self. "I am unsure who, though. My specialties in life involve combat, not so much history lessons."
"So it seems."
He glared at her, unamused. He stepped forward, leaning in to use his body weight as leverage, slowly opening the heavy doors. Scarlet peaked behind him with her crossbow aimed.
A large chamber with a plethora of pillars laid before them. The floor tiles were in disarray from the centuries of neglect, hiding the once grandness of the room they stood in. Various pots and vases were scattered along the floor, covering most of the area. She assumed these were offerings, from long ago. Whoever this person was, the were considered important, no doubt.
In the middle of the room was stone table, with a worn, faded cloth thrown over the flat surface. On top was a jeweled goblet, formed from a skull. Candles flickered in an ominous draft, lit by an unknown entity, far before their arrival. She walked up to the alter, taking a more detailed look at the goblet. Her eyebrows furrowed. It refracted no light. It was as though it was absorbing it.
One of the jewels sparkled. One of her eyebrows raised, and she reached out to touch it. Randull saw her movement from the corner of his eye. He sprinted towards her.
"Scarlet, no!"
Black fog began to pour out of the goblet, running down the table, outwards onto the floor. She felt Randull grab her shoulders and yank her back. The black mist continued to grow, shrouding everything it touched. Before long, they were standing in darkness.
Randull squeezed her shoulders. "The Abyss…"
Something glimmered in the pitch blackness, and she immediately raised her crossbow, heading towards it. She heard Randull's greatsword being unlatched from its holster. The gold band twinkled in the darkness, and she fired a bolt.
A creature roared, and she saw the upper torso of a giant skeleton, adorned with the crown of a king. Around its wrists were gold bracelets, imbued with light. This must be what is keeping it stationary.
She yelled to Randull, dodging the swipe of one of its long arms. "Should we break the bracelets?!"
He swiped at its hands, causing the creature to let loose an ear-piercing shriek. "Yes! Send it back to the Abyss!"
She fired a multitude of shots, managing to shatter one of its anchors. It roared in frustration, erratically swiping. She felt the impact of its back swing hit her chest, and she flew backwards, crashing onto the ground, flipping over on her head. She gasped; the wind had been knocked out of her.
Randull charged in, placing a powerful downwards thrust on the last, remaining bracelet. The gold band shattered, and the creature screamed, clawing desperately at the ground, as the Abyss pulled it back to its dooming fate.
The black mist began to whip violently passed him, and his shielded his face. Eventually, the chamber they were in reappeared. He glanced at the goblet; it leaked the black essence of the Abyss. His eye twitched, as a dark voice resonated in his mind.
"You cannot escape your destiny…"
A pained, moan echoed behind him. He turned, noticing the crumbled form of his companion, twisted next to one of the pillars. He ran over, skidding on his knees, as he pulled her into his lap. Her chest had been smashed. Some of her ribs were broken and protruded through the skin. Others had punctured her lungs.
He lifted her hat off, exposing the massive flow of blood from her mouth. She gasped, breathing in a mixture of liquid in her lungs. Her body began to convulse, and she gripped his arm. He looked to the right; a bonfire.
"Hold on for me. Just a little longer…" He picked her up, carrying her over to the unlit bonfire.
He reached out, grabbing the hilt of the fire, watching as the spark jumped to his arm, then back to flare up into a massive flame. He looked in his arms, the grin on his face falling. She was almost entirely ash; he had been too late.
A warm, glowing green soul emerged, and he picked it up, removing his gloves to cradle it in his bare hands. It flickered, resonating a soothing feeling that spread across his skin. Even when she was nothing more than a fleeting essence, she still provided him comfort and serenity. It was something he had, shamelessly, taken for granted. One day, she may not be there…especially if he continued down the path he was being guided along.
He grabbed the hilt of the bonfire sword; his mind deep in thought.