What is fate ?
When faced with occurrences without clear causal relationship, leading to a peculiar phenomenon, one cannot be faulted for believing in an exterior force at play. That everything that occurred was meant to be... Was fated to be...
There are some who would simply consider such events as coincidences, and they could be correct. But for extreme believers of the acts of the gods, every single event can be linked to their enlightened will. Every single happenstance is merely the product of fate.
Anyways, the two groups appeared from the two sets of stairs at the same time, more or less...
The smaller group was in a better shape overall, while the other had some visible damage. For instance, Gyron's robe had been thoroughly burned, Aveny looked exhausted, and there was blood on Kieran's fist. The pain didn't seem to bother the Ruthless killer all that much. In the end, everyone was still alive and sane.
Alrof and Carra were the first to converse.
"Oy scruffy. How are da kids ?" she said nonchalantly.
Scratching his beautiful beard, Alrof gave the best answer he could produce.
"Uh... Hey little missus. A bit shaken, but that's what we adults are here for, I guess..."
This little scene produced a small impact on the mood; small giggles and twitches here and there.
"Touching..." said a relaxed Amon. "On a more serious note, we have new and vital informations to disclose. Let us prepare for the retelling of our respective short stories, shall we ?"
Aveny and Osadin were the more appeased of their respective groups, especially amused by the fact that the groups had returned at the same time. The two conversed privately about some boring philosophical significance while the others were occupied with more grounded matters. Gyron showed Aroth and Carra his burned clothes and issued some complaints about its personal worth. Volke and Pavel went off as to gather some chairs and furnitures from the corner of the are; the campfire would at least look like a campfire now. The others rested at the bonfire. They switched position when new appliances arrived.
After a few minutes, all was ready, and the perimeter seemed secure enough. A circle of Unkindled Ones was ready to converse.
Aroth had removed his helmet, which had incited the same action among his fellow Unkindled:
Alrof's short red-hair was spiked and greasy because they had been covered by his steel headpiece for so long. Pavel had brown-hair trimmed shorter still, perfectly aligned on his forehead. Kieran removed his hood, it let his long ebony bang cover more of his sane eye while the rest fell flat on the ears. Volke only removed the mask above his mouth to show a bit of his young tattooed face.
The black-haired noble who had removed his chainmail bounced back on track:
"Our exploration isn't finished as of yet, but we have much to tell. In order to end on a high note, I believe your group should start. Any fortune on yonder passage ?"
The knight of Astoran origin explained:
"The tower over yonder lays in ruins with no hope of crossing. On another path below, there is... a steel barred door..."
Since his brother left some details, Amon knew their was some embarrassment in hiding. And so, with a raised eyebrow, the pale-skinned noble gave an presumption.
"Only opened from the other side ?"
The confirmation from his brother came after a small pause.
"Yes..."
There was nothing more to say.
The Steadfast Pavel wisely joined the conversation with a hopeful tune:
"Apart from that disappointment, we brought a pleasant bounty. Show them, friends."
And so Osadin showed everyone a newly acquired longbow. Kieran and Volke showed an interest, but they declared they had no need for it.
The best reaction would be from the weapon Aroth had integrated earlier.
Appearing out of nowhere, a gigantic axe fell on the floor of the tower, right next to the plated leggins of the knight of Carim. Its length reaching the seated men's shoulders, it's width similar to the fallen drake's head, and the body as thick as a human skull. It was radiating power despite its obviously aged state, and the lack of strengthening materials.
A admirative whistle was given by a young pyromancer. A powerful praise to the Sun was enacted. And a long blue beard was caressed in silence.
Finally, upon seeing this tool of destruction, the axeman could only guffaw:
"AH! AHAHAHA! Marvelous! It's for me, right ?"
Indeed, Aroth pushed the heavy hilt towards Alrof. The strongman had stood up in order to lift it here and there, and immediately lost his balance, letting it fall halfway between his fur-bound legs.
Recovering the great chunk of iron and placing it upwards, the proud Faraam warrior made it spin on the ground a bit, admiring the faded carvings and feeling the rigid hilt in his grasp. Appreciative, he turned towards his benefactor.
"My thanks. I can't even carry it with my two hands yet, but I swear it shall be put to good use."
A nod gave confirmation for this oath.
The Greataxe disappeared, absorbed by the Ardent Undead, and Pavel once again urged to go back to the stories:
"Then what news from the six of you ? What news from your short adventure ?"
Basking in the Sun that had yet to set, the Zealous cleric answered:
"Early in our quest, we encountered a breed of hollow who could galvanise the normally praying masses into a deadly force. The first area was easily cleared. Then, there were two path forward; over the tower, or into its darkness. We chose the way to the top. There, a true army of stood in our way, and our carelessness led to its awakening."
Aveny prayed for a few seconds before continuing:
"Ambushed from higher grounds, we became surrounded on all sides by the fully awakened horde. Things looked grim for us all as Master Gyron became badly injured. It is only through the bravery of a knight of the Sun that we escaped from certain demise. While the path forward could be cleared by our savior, we found it more prudent to retreat."
A tilt from the heads, and the commotion between the group forced an elaboration. It came from the burned sorcerer who calmly explained:
"We met another Unkindled. A brave knight of Catarina who rescued us from countless Hollows. But it is our discussion with him afterwards that might interest you. Apparently, he had met our Zealous Aveny before..."
"But she didn't remember him..." finished Osadin with his arms crossed.
"Ho ho, so you have an idea on the matter." Kieran commented.
Aroth raised his hand to grab everyone's attention.
"Twould seem by body remembers Lothric. Unnatural words and a deep familiarity could be felt from our earliest steps. Thus do I believe to have been to Lothric before. However, I have no conscious thought that might confirm this claim, for now."
There was a new fit of discussion from this declaration, each of the Ashen Ten wanting to add their thoughts on the matter.
Raising his hand and whistling a painful note, Kieran made them all turn their head and change the subject:
"Good to have confirmation, but there's more to say about our mess."
It was then that Aveny noticed the state of Kieran's raised appendage. While the bonfire had restored the bones and flesh, some positions were... unnatural. As a healer, Aveny grew concerned:
"Your hand... The fingers are not correctly placed. May I ?" she offered.
But the man told her off:
"I'll do it myself, let me talk."
Kieran was now putting the bones of three of his fingers in their rightful place as he added to the report:
"There's more to consider, dear comrades." Brrrk... "That Onion wasn't weakened in the least." Krrrrk... "He slayed Gundyr easily, cut Hollows down like thin pieces of cloth, but assured us he never felt altered before awakening, shortly before us." Pak... "In short, someone stole OUR souls to weaken us all, specifically, and also took our memories for good measure. Either that or the fat Onion is also the powerful warlock that steals powers and we are all doomed."
Aveny and Amon didn't seem to appreciate the assassin's disdain against the brave knight of Catarina. But Gyron had overtaken their turn.
"Or maybe memories are linked to the lost souls, like Lord Amon supposed. There is only one way to tell: some of us should return to the Shrine to test whether integrating a large amount of souls is enough to produce remembrance."
Amon kept silent as this proposition permeated the fellowship. Each of the warriors and sages were now discussing with their direct neighbours. And one particular member was irritated by the idea. Guess which one...
"Sure, give some gobs an excuse to gobble more souls why don't ya." rebuked Carra who had activated her Pyromancy Flame to pass the time.
Aroth made use of his remaining speck of leadership.
"At ease. We will choose the representatives after we finish our tales. Have we forgotten anything ?" he said.
Seating on one of the more comfortable chairs, Gyron let had his joints recover and worries wash away. He was now quite aware and energetic and happily completed the story.
"Young Volke found some binoculars, the Hollow army left us lesser shards of titanite, and we secured a nice amount of souls. My charred sleeves won't grow back, but that issue would have to wait. There is nothing more to add." he said.
It was then that Aroth remembered something and called out:
"Hold."
The party held, and the knight turned towards the woman of the Great Swamp.
"Carra, can you show us the burning shard you found ?"
The green-haired missus placed her hand forward as she searched internally. She presented the steaming piece it from the tips of her fingers. And in so doing, was powerless to stop Aroth's quick act; he grabbed the ember with his steeled hand.
"Hey! Why'd ya do that!" she protested in a high voice.
Ignoring her, Aroth explained as he turned the object around.
"Does anyone know what this is ?"
None, not even Amon and Kieran who were most familiar with recent times, seemed to know the answer. But the Learned Gyron had a proposition at the ready.
"Well, young knight of Carim, I suggest you ask an experienced Unkindled for this."
"Good idea. The Shrine has a despondent fool available, no ? I bet he has all of his head, for now." proposed Kieran with a sinister grin.
Osadin got back on his feet and stretched his arms. He
"Well then, our next order of business is to choose who goes back to the Shrine while the rest of use go back to training."
The clever Lawless Amon gave an immediate proposal:
"I say Aroth and Alrof take care of business: check the memory issue, repair some equipment, and discuss with ser Hawkmood."
"Hawkwood." corrected someone from the assembly.
"Hawkwood, pardon me. A little lapsus... While the rest of us will gather materials and souls for later use. Any objection ?"
There was none.
"That didn't take long." noticed the warmongering Alrof.
"Good." said a very slightly relieved Carra. She heated her handaxe on her flaming hand, yearning for action.
And so, items requiring attention were given to the two chosen warriors. Pavel entrusted the broken shield. Volke gave a broken sword, although Aroth doubted it could be saved. Then came the matter of a burned cloak.
"Let me hold on to your garb master Gyron. Andre will know what to do."
The Dragon School scholar wasn't very eager to part ways with his old robe.
"He's a blacksmith, he can't also be a tailor ? And my robe is very valuable."
Amon defended his countryman.
"Do not underestimate his craft. He is as ancient as he skilled."
So, the old man gave his half destroyed robe, leaving the deep blue coat underneath to the open air. The bonfire had repaired the undergarment fully, but only an expert could save the robe now.
"Whaddaya mean by valuable ?" inquired a curious Carra.
"I wore it ever since I left the Dragon School. I never parted with it, I slept with it everywhere and used it everyday. For sleeping or other... The point is, I like it very much."
Following those details, Aroth placed the robe in , trying not to touch any... suspicious area.
"Miss Aveny, we need more details on your encounter. Whether his awakening was similar to ours and what not."
"Happy to help."
While the two converse, groups were formed for the coming skirmishes. An example of that was from the Steadfast Pavel who approached a confident swordsman.
"There was an Undead with an interesting weapon. I wish, to have it, though I fear twill require much slayings."
"An' I'll go with you in case there's some black goo ta scare off." offered Carra, in her abundant generosity.
Osadin nodded and they headed out, but not before noticing Volke who was pensively looking into the distance.
Pavel, worried about the lack of participation from the formerly Hollowed youngster, approached the youngest of the group.
"Volke ? You have been awfully quiet... quieter... lately. Is something wrong ?"
Putting his mask back on, the young thief responded weakly:
"I've got things to do... Tell you later..."
That was all he shared before heading to the path undertaken by the larger group.
"Someone's eager to get started. I'll go and cut down those praying Undead while you and, Carra deal with the big ones."
"Killin' some immobile corpses, that's awful brave of ya. Got some beef with da gods ? Want me ta help stop some true believers ?"
"That is not what I meant... And they are not even worshipping our usual gods. Aroth said earlier that they follow the teachings of someone named..."
Osadin stopped when he noticed Carra had almost closed her eyelids in a very dismissive manner. Her face screamed 'get to da bloody point'.
The easterling sighed and concluded:
"Feel free to come along and uhm... burn people."
All the necessary informations had now been received by Aroth and Alrof, and it was time for them to go. The two approached the bonfire.
"Fellow Unkindled. We return to the Shrine while you do as you see fit. Train and explore at your leisure, but I urge you not to venture farther than we went."
Once the two disappeared among the fumes, all departed from the little encampment.
-~o~-
The Firekeeper bowed to the two men in silence, the candle-lit place seemed unchanged since the short time they left.
"Greetings Milady. We are only here for a short time, worry not."
Aroth bent his back in reverence, and Alrof imitated him. Though it felt weird to act this way to a blind lady. Aroth addressed his friend without delay.
"I'll leave you to it."
"Aye."
The axeman nodded.
The noble nodded back.
The two went their separate ways.
Above the stairs where Aroth placed his gaze, a crestfallen man wasn't looking up, still entranced in his sorrow and letting time pass in silence.
When Aroth reached the bottom of the stairs and said a formal greeting, the man reacted finally. After a quick look around, he declared his usual disinterested tone:
"Well... There are less of you than before. Why would that be..."
With a wave of his hand, Aroth dismissed the jest. He walked up the stairs and found a place to sit upon.
"Our comrades are safe, I am here to confirm some important matters."
"Ask away. I have, eh, not much else to do."
Now Aroth had to choose his words with a modicum of care. The man could lie to his face or refuse to speak altogether. And if his suspicions are true, that Hawkwood is as strong as the Catarina knight Aveny described, then he'd have no chance should he aggro the ancient soldier.
"Where did you awaken exactly ?"
"That is a good question. I awoke in a stone coffin, but the location was, well, interesting. My resting place was strung up high away on Lothric's wall, alongside other coffins. Thankfully, I was agile enough to reach the ground without issue."
That confirmed what he knew. Only a few more precisions were required.
"How many of your fellow Unkindled had already left those misplaced stones ?"
"I was the first, I believe. Now what do you intend to do with that information ?"
"That is a story for another time, friend. But there is more matters that I must address with you. Would you kindly lend your ear for more ?"
Slapping unentousiastically his thigh, Hawkwood acepted:
"By all means."
"When you raised yourself from the dead, were your combative abilities impaired in any way ? Was your equipment different from your last memories ? And lastly, have you forgotten anything pertaining to your history ?"
Pensively, the soldier took a time to consider the question.
"To those many questions, the answer is no. My arm was as strong as before, my old apparatus was just as you see it and no different from my past, a past I remember quite clearly. Must I assume your answer would be yes in all front ?"
"You would assume correctly. Verily, twas the most unsettling awakening the ten of us ever faced."
"I have no idea as to why such a thing happened. Then again, who am I to say what is wrong or right in this accursed land."
Confirmations, of a sort. The Ashen Ten were victims while the four remaining ancient Unkindled were spared, though they were cleared out of their path. Aroth changed his position, getting closer to the still seated individual.
"Then there is one last thing I have to ask..."
Producing the ember into his open hand, the knight twisted it around so Hawkwood could better see its shape. His answer was plain and simple.
"An ember, and something that we Unkindled yearn for."
FAmilarity, there was that.
"Would you care to elaborate ?" asked Aroth
"We Unkindled are, shall we say, incomplete. Unsurprising. Some things are lost when you are burned to cinders. But embers can fill a part of what we lost."
"So if we."
A much longer time of reflection needed, it would seem. But Aroth stayed patient, and attentive. His lecturer finally gave his thoughts.
"I am uncertain. Embers act like stimulants, they make us feel whole and make us more rooted to this world. A little like Humanity acts for the truly Undead. But they shouldn't have an effect on the state of your spirit, or on the souls you are carrying. They anchor you further into the world, but at the same time, they connect you to others."
"I see. Tell me more about this connection."
"Have you noticed enlightened writings on the ground ? Strange blood stains or colored signs ?"
"I know of those. I believe they are considered as marks from other dimensions. Now that I think about it, we never saw anything of the likes."
"Then break the ember to absorb its being. With your new state, you will be able to read the writings of otherworldly predecessors, and the soapstones will outlive their uselessness. hehehe."
The soapstones. A strange mineral that could affect time and space through mystical markings. Some could send representatives of oneself to assist in parallel lands, or produce invaders in the search for souls and bounty. Victory in new land could offer humanity and souls to the victor, boons that would return with the apparitions.
They were a solid alternative to risking lives in the original lands, though their workings was a great mystery to all.
"I know of them, and where can we procure such precious items ?" demanded Aroth confidently.
The feedback was quite simple.
"Talk to the old crone... She'd be delighted to offer those precious tools, in exchange for your precious souls. But, otherworldly assistance will never be enough to reach the Lords, and let's not mention conquering them. Go have fun with your new gimmicks."
Aroth turned back. But before his motion was completed, Hawkwood called out:
"A moment please ?"
This amount of activity was something novel.
"What is it ?"
"I must say, it is nice to talk once in a while, even if its just for formal information. But I appreciate your presence nonetheless. So thank you for passing by."
Touched by the honesty, Aroth gave his solemn words:
"I will tell the others to greet you more openly then, I assure you of our goodwill. Fare thee well."
When Aroth turned back, Alrof was already near the bonfire.
The Firekeeper was close to the strong-armed man, but they hadn't enacted the integration of souls yet.
"You've repaired the equipment I presume."
"Andre did, he works pretty fast. I never imagined someone could sew with one hand while the other keeps striking iron. Something new everyday."
Andre had the experience of multiple cycles of Fire and Dark. This was obvious since he had his sanity intact even to this day.
"You have enough soul to see if anything happens ?"
Alrof shrugged at the mention of the word soul.
"I'm not out but I'm far from rich in that department. You can have a go little knight." he admitted.
And so Aroth absorbed all the forlorn souls he had gathered before kneeling in front of the Firekeeper. She sensed the knight's purpose was different for this occasion.
"Thou hast apprehension. What is thine worry Noble Ash ?"
Firm and ready, there was nothing the Arklaw could do except tempt the fates.
"Fear not Milady. Let your work be done."
Choosing how the souls would permeate his being, Aroth concentrated. The Grey Lady's chant echoed in the great chamber of the Firelink Shrine. A tune from another age that penetrated the soul despite the whispering voice.
The choice was made.
The man of Astora shuddered for a second before his body seemed to gleam with energy. He had strengthened his body quite well apparently. But he
For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then his blue eyes opened suddenly, stricken by epiphany.
"Ashen One ?" wondered the Firekeeper.
Aroth looked to the ceiling. He didn't seem to be pained, but had become extremely pensive. Alrof, impatient, asked him thusly:
"Feel any different ?"
Not lowering his gaze, the young knight tilted his helmeted head into his right shoulder, then the left.
"I do, new memories come to mind now. Tis a strange feeling." he announced softly.
"And ?"
Taking a deep breath, Aroth shared his finding.
"Twas but a glimpse, but sufficient... Twould seem... I never even reached the First Flame."