To all my faithful and supportive readers:

I just wanna thank ya'll for rooting for me and taking the time out of your lives to view and review my fics. For that, I'm gonna take another dive into this fanfic that I trashed some time ago.

However it goes, I'm just winging it so it won't be much of a loss to me if I figure it to be just another lost cause…

Anywhoo, let's get to it.

As usual, a Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Souls 2 or the Dragonage franchise and its respected characters, with the exception of my OC's of course.

Enjoy :)

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The roll of thunder in the distance sounds so dull. Like the grumbling of a great beast, searching for its next meal.

I've had my share of great beasts crossing this wretched land.

My feet, though safe within those bradden steel boots, ache as though they have treaded upon thorned ground. They might as well have, for even as the curse wraps its long and gnarled fingers around the throat of the kingdom, choking it, ebbs out to produce an amalgamation of death and life.

Poison mists have shrouded the path I had left behind, and the green muck that covered most of the King's road produced an overwhelming stench that I could be certain had permanently stuck to the back of my nose.

Weary of the journey that took me nowhere, dragging my bruised and wounded legs over the rocks, I finally reached the spot that made it all worth it.

The cliff overlooked the churning sea below, its waves dashing against the sharp rocks that stuck out of its maw.

Here, I shall consign myself once again to oblivion's embrace.

No sword shall pierce my flesh, no beast shall chew upon my bones nor shall they rip me to shreds only to have me brought back for more.

Piece by piece, soul shard after soul shard, until I am finally Hollowed.

Effigy after effigy, all futile attempts to cleanse the taint that shall never leave. The Darksign.

But the ocean, in all her mercies, shall grant me the respite that the gods have denied me for so long. Whether such a notion should prove true, I couldn't care any less.

I am tired…

So so tired…

I need…rest…

The Hollowed men, dim reflections of loyal servants to my King, gathered around behind me, moaning all the while.

This would be my fate, should I let another shard of my soul be taken. To forever prey upon the innocent, mindlessly wander the earth and devour souls as if it were my daily bread.

Pain stabs at my back, and I grunt, nearly slipping prematurely into the murky depths of the sea.

Another arrow whistles through the air, following the first where it marked my shoulder, digging deep through my armor and biting down hard on my flesh. The force of the blow gives my body a slight shudder, but I still stood upon that ledge.

Like the grains of sand within an hourglass, each arrow loosed upon me forced me to look back on what little remained of my memories.

A cottage, a little garden that surrounded it like a fence, and then the picket white fence itself.

A woman who greets me, and then the child that she holds close.

Happy ones, all of them. A mercy granted that they shall never endure what I have…

I closed my eyes and gasp involuntarily as a spear bursts through my chest. Blood pours from the wound and from my gaping mouth as I fight for the air that I am so suddenly deprived of.

The Hollowed one that dealt the killing blow gave an incoherent groan and planted his foot on my back, pushing me off his spear and into the cold embrace of the waters below.

A splash, and the chilly waves engulf me. Darkness is prevalent in this place, but I welcome it like an old friend. For in Drangleic, light holds nothing but false hope, empty promises of a better tomorrow, hollow as the monsters that now plague its lands. There is only darkness…

From there, I came into this world screaming. And from there, I shall return in silence.

I wake up in Limbo.

I know it was thus, for I was suspended without a tether in midair.

Everything here was unnatural, and yet I have grown accustomed to its features. It wasn't anything different from Drangleic, yet still remains as the bridge between worlds. Life and Death, and what comes after.

I willed myself to float back to solid ground, eyes scanning the cavern floor for my fallen weapon. Finding it, I pick up the geisteel sword and sheathed it quickly, navigating the ruins I found myself in.

Thunder echoes in the distance, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the myriad of colors this plane of existence introduced.

This was a realm of dreams, then not the Limbo.

My mind percieved visions, erratic and broken like the stones that tore themselves off the ground and floated up to the sky. The intensity of the environment grew with each step, as if my weight set off the balance that tipped so dangerously towards chaos.

Then, as I emerged through a thick black mist and climbed atop a hill of bones, I caught sight of a city floating above the cracked and bleeding earth. From its towering spires, and nightmarish black walls came oozing bright orange fire, pouring into the cracks and setting the earth ablaze.

The whole ground quakes and heaves as if in labor, mirrored by the strong claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning.

An army amasses at the gates, and I hear the war drums beat, and the horn sounds for the charge.

Then everything fades into blackness…

When I came to, I found myself half buried in wet sand, upon a shore in a foreign land. I knew it to be so, for as I rose to gain a bearing on my surroundings, I found not a single trace of the touch of the curse.

Another world? A figment of the erratic shifts and flow of time, perhaps?

Limbo has a way of sending me into places, but they never last long. In due time, I will return to Drangleic to continue my walk of penance, for a sin I had never committed. What exactly did I see in that vision?

I didn't have time to indulge in deep thought, for I heard the familiar clash of steel against steel, and the screams of dying men.

Moving to investigate, I emerge from the lake I had landed on and push my way through the forest before me.

Soon, I chanced upon a village in the middle of a raid. The innocents had scattered, chased down like hapless prey by a horde of ravenous human-like monstrosities. I had seen much that the curse had warped and twisted, and nothing at all seemed that different with these.

The Darksign may have erroded the surface of my humanity, like rot on an apple, but it hasn't reached the core just yet. My blade stands ready to defend the weak.

With that in mind, I joined the fight in grim anticipation.

My arrival was unexpected, much to my advantage, and so I easily cut a bloody swath through the surprised monsters. I hack and slash, gut and disembowel my way to the rear guard, using the simple tactic as a means to get close to whoever was leading the attack.

Geisteel cuts deeper than any metal known to man, and what little armor my enemies had was not even a challenge for my blade. I feel an arrow bite into my shoulder, but ignore it as I lose myself into the heat of battle, reveling in the splash of blood that covered my otherwise grey Heide Knight armor.

The exhaustion I had previously felt had left me completely as their souls left their bodies upon expiration. Soon, I proved to great a threat to go unnoticed, and the horde turned their wrath on me.

Seeing this turn of events, the defenders of the village stared in awe for a moment, probably debating whether to seize the chance to run or to come to my aid.

I didn't want them to fall to the monsters, I had them right where I wanted them and I didn't want to share the souls. "Get back!" I yelled as loud as my rotted throat could above the din of the dying, "Think of your loved ones and leave this place!"

I groan as a blade digs into my abdomen, pushing myself against the crooked sword and decapitating the grinning imp that dealt the blow with my own. Once the horde had stacked like a mountain of bodies over me, I channeled my rage into mana and let loose a mighty wave of blue light.

The soul furnace instantly turns them into ash and charred bone, scattering the survivors all over the bloodied street and setting fire to the cottages nearby.

Heaving with exertion, I scanned the battlefield for any more who dared oppose me next, satisfied with the amount of souls I accumulated. Then, I walked away.

This was a land that had its own curse. Yet, it wasn't without its own benefits. Those grayskinned monsters I fought had a peculiar taste in their souls, and I found myself craving it.

That was a dangerous motivation, but what else is there for me to do? I was turning into a Hollow anyway, I could at least prey on the wicked instead of the innocent.

"We did it! We fought against the darkspawn, and we survived!"

I turn my attention to the villagers, watching as they moved to save what could be out of the ruined town. Some of them had already packed what little belongings they had into wagons and started down the road.

"They'll be back, there's always more where that came from." An old man says with a grim shake of the head, sheating his sword before tending to his wounds.

My scarred and rotting features were obscured by my helmet, which aided in keeping the villager calm as I went to have a word with him. I needed answers, "What were those monsters?"

"You don't know, good sir?" He said as he wrapped a bandage over his hand, "Those were darkspawn. So far, this one's full of hurlocks, so we got lucky. Nobody's seen them for a few hundred years now. But if they're here, that could mean a Blight is underway, and that doesn't bode well for any of us."

The old man looks at the sword in my hand, then up to me. "I saw you throwing magic at those hurlocks. Normally, people'll lynch you. But with the way you've suddenly appeared out of nowhere and turned the tide in our favor, I'd say you've got a free pass this time."

"They can try." I said, unmoved by the threat of death.

He smiles, "Just saying. We're all grateful for the assist, even if nobody says so."

It was oddly pleasant to engage in conversation, other than the usual dance of blades I've had with the denizens of Drangleic, so I indulged myself for a bit. "You are not absent skill, old one. You were a soldier?"

"Haha!" The old man laughed, "No, I just got tired of getting robbed on the road to Denerim that I had to learn how to use a blade. There's nothing to it really, the darkspawn don't really have much going up here." He taps at his head to emphasize his point. "They can't really do much swordplay, I'm sure you've noticed."

He leaned back and regarded me for a moment, "You're not from around these parts, are you? I can tell from the accent, are you Amaranthine?

I shake my head, daring not to spill any secrets lest I look like a fool or an outcast. "I'd rather not talk about it."

The old man purses his lips and nodded, "Well, if you're a foreigner and looking to find your way, maybe you should stick with us for a little longer. The road'll be treacherous, and we'll need all the swords we can get for the journey."

I had no goal or purpose, so I gave my consent.

"Good." He extended his hand, "Around here, people call me Old Man Locketti, but you can call me Loki."

The curse had erroded my memory, so much that I cannot remember my name. So quickly, I thought of a way to make that predicament mean something. "Vandahl." I replied, shaking his hand in return.

The name actually means 'no name' in Heide gothic. Works for me.

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