AN: Shade, worry not. Quelaag's more than spared in this fic (Spoiler alert)
Mazz: Thank you! I feed off of reviews like a normal mortal does food
Bear: Kirk is a bigger badass here than the game gives credit for, yes.
coduss: Well, he can be stopped. Just not for long. Hence the battlecry.
Guest: There are more deviations to come, but what caused them will be explained, soon enough. The only hint I'll give is "Don't Blink." If you get the reference, you get the hint.

15

Blighted Issues

"Ah, Blighttown," Thomas muttered, his nose taking in the air, and not liking it. "As delightful as I remember it."

"Um..." Laurentius butted in. "We just opened the doors."

"And yet I can still smell the place. The scent of disease, decay, old, molded wood."

"We're still working on rebuilding," Kirk supplied. "But you'll find a chest with most of the gear in it, as well as a few other tools besides, which you can make use of."

Thomas, by now, had gotten more used to Kirk throwing curveballs like this, and so had started taking them in stride. "Ah, yes. That's good to hear. How is the rebuilding process going, anyways?"

Kirk nodded. "Well enough. The Legion is overseeing rebuilding, with an emphasis on safety and expediency for visitors intending to go downwards, without disturbing the residents who want to live on their own. They prefer it that way."

"Of course," Thomas said simply, though his mind was whirling. As far as he knew, Farron hadn't been founded yet, so said Legion couldn't have been formed. And even so, the Wolf Knight's fanclub would be much too busy hunting down the Abyss to take on carpentry projects. "I forget. How long has the Legion been working on this?"

"About 250 years. Slightly older than I am."

Rhea blinked. "Kirk... Exactly how old art thou?"

"Just turned 235 yesterday, actually. Thankfully, it was as much a symbol that the time had come as anything."

"Happy birthday, knight," Laurentius said. "Belated though it be."

"Appreciated, Pyromancer. Speaking of, are we going, or are we going to stand here at the entrance all day?"

Thomas glanced back, to reconfirm that Domhall wasn't sitting at his little spot. "Forward it is," he said. "Let's visit the New Blighttown." And with that, they descended."

Meanwhile, at the Undead Asylum: "I have no idea why the crow isn't here by now," Oscar said. "Thomas assured us it would take us back."

"Even a prophet is wrong, sometimes," Solaire said, gazing into the sun. "But I think that we're going about it the wrong way. How did you leave the first time?"

"We merely came to the cliff, and a couple crows grabbed us."

"And how did we get here?"

"We curled up as eggs."

"And seeing as standing about hasn't done us any favors..." Solaire trailed off, and Oscar, slackjawed, smacked his helmeted forehead.

"Lords damn me. I am a fool," he said simply, before curling up, Solaire following suit.

"We all have our moments, little brother." At this, two crows came over, picked up, and flew off, with Solaire politely wondering how the birds hadn't been able to tell that they WEREN'T eggs. Ah, well, he mused to himself. I simply will have to ask Thomas, when the time comes. After a short flight, both Solaire and Oscar were transported to Firelink Shrine, and began their descent. Little did they know, they were watched, six pair of red, glowing eyes lurking in the shadows...

"Well met!" a woman near the bonfire called out. "You're just in time." Warily, the knights of Astora approached, when Oscar recognized her.

"Pharis?" then knight asked, somewhat incredulous.

"The same. Surprised to see me? You're going to love what happens next." She looked at the bonfire's flame, before whispering to them conspiratorily. "The Knight. Lautrec. He intends to collect the Firekeeper's Soul. You arrived, just in time, to help me stop him."

Solaire frowned, under his helm. "But... Thomas warned him not to."

"And? What are the words of one man compared to the duty he feels he bears his goddess?"

Silence filled the area, and Oscar took it open himself to approach the crestfallen warrior. "So. This flame is threatened. How do you feel about that?"

The crestfallen warrior perked up. "I find that I do not like the idea. I do not like it at all." He stood, slowly, with all the grave force of one who put effort into what they do. "I am fond of this little flame, and the Keeper which provides. It would not be nice to lose it. There are so few comforts left in this world, and I feel I cannot stand by and let them slip." He drew a short blade, and his heater shield was at the ready. "Very well. Let's pay this disgraceful excuse for a knight a visit." So made up on their minds, the group descended, approaching Lautrec.

Though they were too late. Lautrec's blade was already within Anastacia, and he was taking her soul even as they watched. Above, the crackling of the Bonfire faded, and silenced entirely.

"No," Oscar said quietly, drawing his blade. "Thou beast!" Solaire's weapons were readied as well, and Pharis had her famed triple-shot ready, aimed directly at Lautrec.

"Beast?" Lautrec asked, his voice like silken oil. "Nay. I am quite aware of what I do. Humanity is a valued resource, is it not? And exceedingly rare. What use had she for it, hmm?"

"A life is not so easily tossed aside, Embraced Knight," Solaire said simply, his knuckles white upon his sword. "Explain unto me why we should not slay you, for your foul deed?"

Lautrec looked at them, and analyzed his chances. One paladin, a versatile knight, an archer, and a fighter. He was not without his own tricks, but a tactical retreat was in order. "Because," he said, a bone already being crushed in his hand. "I am no longer here."

Three arrows flew forth at blazing speed, but all sailed through Lautrec as though he wasnt there, as he shimmered and faded. Pharis moved towards the Firekeeper's corpse, and plucked a black orb, an eye in it's face. "Your prophet will appreciate this tool," she said simply, handing it to Oscar.

"What is this," the knight responded, peering into the black orb's eye. "What does it do?"

"Simply put," Pharis responded, "Lautrec has returned to his own world. When the prophet is in the same area as him in our world as he is in his, he may cross the gaps between worlds, to slay him, regaining the lost Firekeeper's soul."

"Blasted coward," The crestfallen knight said. "I will see him pay for this, if I have to sign up with the Blades of the Darkmoon in order to do it."

At this, Oscar gave a meek chuckle. "Funny you should bring them up. They currently hate us. Something about Thomas obtaining the ancient power of the dragons, or some such."

"He did what?!"

Just above, within the shrine, they heard a scream of terror, and Solaire shook his head. "What now?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas wasn't expecting salutes. That was for sure.

As he walked through Blighttown, he was at first wary, weapons ready. When two workers, both of them taller than he, and slightly wider, suddenly turned, he had admittedly jumped a little. Both of them pulled out greatswords, and had moved quickly, setting the on edge prophet almost off entire. Till he took a second look. They stood on opposite sides of the walkway, greatswords extended, crossed over their heads. "Um... Isn't that a bit unnecessary? I'm not THAT important."

"Mother would disagree," Kirk said. "She has long held you in high regard." At this, Thomas blinked. Mention of Kirk's lineage was never brought up. He served the Fair Lady, sure, but his reasonings were never known.

"And," Laurentius asked, "Just who is your mother?"

"Quelaag," the Knight of Thorns said simply. "Chaos Witch and standing ruler of Izalith, birthplace of Pyromancy. I'd be disappointed if you showed less than your utmost respe-HEY!" The Knight jostled his leg, his boot lightly pushing away the Pyromancer who had thrown himself at his feet in supplication. "I don't bear any of mother's talents, so don't expect me to be able to teach you anything."

"I... I see," Laurentius said, getting up in shame. "But surely, you know something."

"I seem to bear only one skill from the royal family," Kirk said. "My armor is renowned for it's thorns. They are an extension of me, birthed from a primal aspect of the Chaos within us all."

Meanwhile, Thomas had been mildly rocked by the revelation. Everything about Kirk's lore fell into place. One would do anything for family. Including risk the wrath of a primordial serpent to trick them out of a red eye orb, to fetch humanity for their ailing aunt's recovery. His service to the Fair Lady, his persistence in invading the player's world, invading three times where others would stop after failing once, why he sought a red eye orb in the first place. Vaati would have a field day with that one sentence alone. Out loud, he inquired as to the armor. "Then, you can make claws like Wolverine."

"I won't know who that is, Prophet, but I can make claws," he said simply, the fingers of his gauntlets forming thorns, and he gave a demonstrative swipe. "See?"

"I see," Thomas said, continuing walking. "Ah. Ladders. The Fetish of Miyazaki. Well, what's keeping us?" And with that, he descended, and decided to try sliding down.

"SPLINTERS! OH MY GODS I HAVE MADE SO MANY MISTAKES!"