The Albinauric had gotten his objective: the Prawn Master had been cooperative, he'd killed a few Tarnished, and he'd secured a safe place and access to an endless supply of prawns. Finding a place to hide would be challenging work, but at the same time, they'd at least have an ally to help them fend off would-be Tarnished. So why? Why was he unsatisfied, even with two bags of delicious food? Perhaps the end of his journey had been too easy, and he was struggling to accept that he would return to his regular life, surviving in an uncaring world with no new goal to reach, no objective to fulfill, and no significant troubles to solve.; He'd become a wandering being once again, sitting in a shack at night, awaiting… what was meant to happen.
The legless one said they needed to wait out the Tarnished and wait for them to die off to the threats roaming the Lands Between or weaken them, then reach a faraway holy land. But as their numbers dwindled, while the Tarnished somehow never went away, he stopped talking about it and simply became concerned with feeding the troop, until that "holy land" vanished from collective memory. And the Albinauric would struggle to convince his companions to follow him to it, let alone reach such a mysterious location when he didn't have objects to find it, such as a "map". It seemed like he'd sadly have to resign himself to his fate of surviving through the night, forever waiting for the day the Tarnished would stop scouring the world.
He saw another group of those brawling with hideous creatures: The legless one called them "Revenants ."These were like Tarnished in mindless aggressivity, but they were far easier to deal with for larger troops of their kind. Still, it didn't bode well to fight in Lliurna, where skirmishes could attract larger opponents, and the Albinauric crawled through nearby bushes instead of risking being spotted, watching as the three Tarnished effortlessly slaughtered the screaming undead: it seemed odd how they could come back from death once but not twice. But perhaps that was to blame on the Tarnished smashing their bodies to pieces or rending their limbs apart with mighty great blows from their towering weapons when they weren't blasting them with bolts of blue magic that made the poor Albinauric instinctively shiver, remembering the sounds of these things hailing from the fog and plunging through the hearts of his fellows.
That the Tarnished died in such drove, when they had mighty weapons and magic at their disposal, quietly convinced the wanderer to put aside his plans for a "holy land," instead focusing on his current objective, which he indulged in finding some space for himself: to give to the human… to the woman her talisman back. He had no idea how to use the shining thing anyhow and even dreaded that its gaze could attract a predator's eye in the lost fog. Luckily, he could recognize the trees or hills he walked across on his first path: if he could, he would have carved some symbols upon the trees to identify his path, but that would have gotten him killed should a smarter predator stumble upon his marking.
As the Albinauric spotted the corpse of the massive tentacle beasts, merely one cadaver among many others, he warily looked up to the top of the hill, readying himself to be tackled by the bald man from above. But he was completely absent: he could not even hear the warp crepitating of fire nor sense smoke. Still, that only made the Albinauric even warier: what would happen if he were to lower his guard because the Tarnished wasn't there? The Albinauric gave that hill as wide a berth as he could, mainly because the Tarnished seemed to treat it as meeting ground. And there was no place more dangerous for living, breathing beings as a gathering spot for these berserkers. He could even faintly hear the sound of battle going off somewhere, prompting him to head the way he was going anyway: where he came from, the place where that woman stood. Defenseless as she was, maybe he could gift her a weapon... No, it seemed like the warriors were not killing her, despite her having no eyebrows. And obviously, not being a "human" being. Well, then again, he had never met a proper human being: the legless had told him they had all been killed or fled during the events that drove Lliurna to its warped form.
So what did they look like? Were they patterned after them? A body with two arms, two legs, and a head, with the inside bits as well? Why did he look so different? Was it because of the circumstances that led to him being "shunned" from grace, that all-important concept that apparently determined one's worth in Lliurna? The Albinauric looked down at the water, inspecting his face, wondering what made him so noticeable. It rapidly became apparent: he was a short, stout creature with clammy grey skin, big black eyes, a total lack of hair –though he humbly guessed that rocking long hair wouldn't make him famous anyhow- and a big bloated head like all the other Albinaurics around him. But pointedly not like the humans or Tarnished. His appearance had never been an issue for him –there were much more important matters, yet he wondered if that was why they were being hunted down. A matter of not being "human" enough and close to them. It was stupid, but he preferred it over being denied grace over the conditions of his birth. Why would an entire race be cursed because of something they had no control over?
The legless had sometimes said that they had been "created," that more of them couldn't be "made" as humans apparently could. When asked for clarification, he abruptly changed the subject, leaving the Albinauric to ponder how humans could make more of their own. And also what he meant by "created ."Where were their creators? Why were they left abandoned in Lliurna? Hm, perhaps questions like these ought to be asked somewhere safe and not in the open: he could see and hear the shadows dancing at the edge of the mist, with accompanying roads and the sound of steel encountering steel -or flesh-. Hurrying along, the Albinauric looked ahead to spot the "tower" where the woman stood.
Unfortunately, the tides of time were not so complacent with the little frog's efforts: the sun was setting, bathing the area in orange rays of light. The Albinauric stopped and flinched, then accelerated, wary of being separated from his troops or a comfortable source of hiding at night. He even smacked the top of his head in annoyance, silently blaming himself for his tendency to stop and ponder the "whys" of things. His reunion with the woman would have to be shorter: he'd need to find a proper hiding place. A bush could do, but it was harder to sleep in those. Luckily, the last available bits of light granted him clemency, showing him the ruined building in the distance. Hurrying, the Albinauric was also content to find the woman quite alive and standing on her own two feet, though she was shivering slightly, holding her arms close to her chest and rubbing her shoulders with her hands. Lethal as Lliurna was, and with the darkness encroaching, it didn't seem like she was considering moving out: a fearsome beast could seek shelter in there or a bloodthirsty Tarnished.
The Albinauric deftly avoided the big "logs" near the tower, fully aware of their true nature, and hopped onto the woman's level. "Little frog," the woman's voice was quiet as a whisper and shivering very slightly. Meanwhile, the cold and mud hardly bothered him: perhaps he had spent more time living there. "What are you doing here? I was not expecting to see you again so soon," her voice seemed discontent at first, but her tone adjusted slightly, even if the surprise remained. "I trust you steered clear of the ruffian or…" she peered, noticing his second bag, which he brought to her attention by tapping on it. "Oh my, you've managed to pacify him? How excellent you've progressed far in your journey, little frog. I urge you to continue far and return to your home. The stars… they have become a very poor lantern as of late."
The Albinauric began to pat his tunic, hoping to find her relic. She seemed sad, so he had more incentive to cheer her up by giving it away. "As for I, I fear my stay must continue. My friend has been very late. Very very late indeed," she could almost hear an annoyed groan. "… Pray tell, has the master of the prawns talked about being visited by a woman? Or has he given away a certain relic?" he continued to search, pestering; how could a little tunic such as this have so many pockets? "Little frog, I am not hungry. Please, do honor me with an answer. Thou only need to… shake your head," she shook her head to the right and left first, then up and down, her eyes never leaving him. "… Like this. Oh… You were not looking. Allow me to demonstrate again."
She did it again but then suddenly stopped when the Albinauric finally pulled out that little red thing from his pocket, holding it up to her face: it had a little grime, for his pockets were never clean, but she could always rub it away or lick it clean like he did when he had to wash it away. However, to his disappointment, the blonde woman stayed still in mute horror before she nervously smiled and grasped the pendant, hands shaking slightly. "L-little frog you… you… did you…" the Albinauric swatted at the air next to him, crouched down and mimicked, grabbing something off the ground, then got back up, holding thin air, and shoved it in a pocket. His time was running shorter, and he wished not to persist, but her muted reaction confused him: was she sad?
"This is… oh my, oh dear. I…" The young woman smiled, baring her teeth, and began to rotate the objects in her hands, voice shaking only slightly less than the rest of her body. "Y-you killed a particular Tarnished with the item and returned it to me… I… oh dear, this is… this isn't what mother said… it is what mother said could happen!" the woman nervously wiped her forehead with her left arm. "Little frog, I appreciate your kindness. A true stalwart hero but…" she bit her lips and glanced further at the pendant, believing it could reveal itself to be a different item with a closer look. "Litle frog, you've killed my friend, this isn't something that… the item is important… murder is not legal… I-I don't think there are laws here…the item isn't important, but the friend is… she was retrieving an important… not an important object that-" she coughed into her fist, briefly sounding like she was dislodging something, and looked at the Albinauric with a tender smile. "I-I appreciate your kindness, but I think I am most embarrassed now. Little frog, please do not murder my friends; I would like to introduce them to my mother soon."
The Albinauric thought of something and pointed at itself, having understood that he'd screwed up somehow. But he could fix it, of course. He would never trust a Tarnished, but she wasn't one, and the Prawn Master had been good to him, so he was now less wary. "Oh, hum… Little frog. I must be blunt, but mother would be terribly upset at you for your actions. So should I, but I find it… difficult to be adequately angry at you. Erm, abscond quickly, for you are in danger standing the-"
"LADY RYA!" screamed a voice out of the black void surrounding them. They both could hear the sounds of someone disturbing the water at a fast pace in the distance, prompting the two to briefly cancel their "discussion" to walk over to the other side of the tower, peering at the darkness. A black-clad Tarnished was running their way, throwing away some odd goggles and drawing an exceptionally sharp, thin-looking sword. "HIDEOUS BEAST! PUT YOUR CLAMMY HANDS AWAY FROM MY PRECIOUS LADY RYA!"
"N-no! The crawfishes are vicious!" Rya cried out, but she was too late: the titanic pincer lords emerged from the mud, water and mud coming forth around them like geysers. Caught off-guard, the Tarnished flew apart, his limbs and torso scattered by the sheer force of what was happening. The Albinauric was even nearly smacked by a piece of his leg, sent flying after one of the giant pincer-beasts managed to snap it off.
"LADY RRRRYYYAAAARRRGGHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed, his body shattering to pieces. Panicked, the Albinauric ran away from the tower, his survival instinct preventing him from grabbing Rya's hand to run faster. Luckily, the three Pincers-Beasts stumbled upon each other in their killing frenzy, crashing their gigantic bodies against one another in their naked aggression. This gave the Albinauric time to distance himself from the building they were scurrying against, though he didn't know how Rya, the woman, was doing: the thought only seized him once he was a fair distance, and by then, he was not willing to entertain going back to save a stranger.
What worried the Albinauric, however, was not the vicious pincer-beasts. They were definitely an issue, but only parts of a greater one: chaos attracted chaos, and the Tarnished would be all around the place soon, much too soon for the Albinauric's liking. He could already see lights in the distance, coming out of the fog, bloodthirsty warriors eager for a chance to mindlessly set their weapons one against the others, and beasts of blind malice, eager to kill anything with a pulse. He could hear those that rode "horses" approaching fast: regardless of the direction he went by, they'd be swarming, and he would stumble right unto one. Thinking quickly, with the limited visibility he had left, the Albinauric dove head-first into a bush close to a tree, hoping he would not stumble into a hidden aggressor. His impact was a rough one, barely softened by the mud at his feet: there were bones left to rot into that bush, which he only noticed when his belly slammed against a skull hard enough to shatter it to pieces.
Thinking nothing of it, the Albinauric cowered, placing his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. Mayhem and murder were far too typical within Lliurna, but he dreaded that particular brawl: all around him were muddy footsteps as warriors hurried towards the battle. It didn't make sense in his mind: what were they expecting from this? The opportunity to find better gear for themselves? Glory in winning a purposeless battle at the edge of nowhere, their only spectator a mute and terrified "little frog"? Or bloodlust? It had to be the last, for he heard howling laughter from the Tarnished, only sometimes interrupted by a pained death cry or sudden silence.
The Albinauric remained still, barely peeking his bulbous black eyes out of the bush: the horde-riders left smoke in their trail, it was dark, and the fog was always persistent, yet he could still easily see the slaughter taking place all around the derelict tower where Rya used to be. The massive shape of a single pincer-beast emerged at times, barreling through the hordes of Tarnished or undead entities while crushing several in its pincers. Another beast leaped high into the night sky and crashed down near a group, crushing one of the riders and causing the smoke to spew from below the beast's body. The third one had already been felled, and the Tarnished that had briefly teamed up to fight it were now battling on its gigantic corpse, ignoring the other rampaging monsters.
And whenever it seemed like the Tarnished were about to run out, more joined in there were those clad in a red aura, whom he'd seen earlier, but also those clad in a blue light, who arrived on the battlefield and immediately targeted the red ones, though the giant hammers or swords that they swung about carelessly caused them to send half a dozen of their own flying with their strikes. The second pincer-beast died almost in an accident, its "face" crushed by a massive blow meant to strike one of the red specters. Soon, the battlefield became filled with red and blue ghosts, dancing about the last few original Tarnished remains.
A few of them hung out outside the battle, taking potshots at their enemies via magical staves –which made the poor Albinauric's spin crawl- or summoning fireballs to toss at their enemies. When given the time to recover, red-clad specters chugged down flasks and proceeded to rain down pests upon their enemies. Before the Albinauric's stunned eyes, they appeared to carve a bloody hole into the air and then tossed fiery blood around, great swathes of it impacting the last pincer beast's body and causing it to shriek in agonizing pain. At least one was swinging a dagger around, hurling red crescent-shaped projectiles of what he assumed to be blood as well.
It was insanity. What kind of diseased maniacs would use blood as a fighting tool? Having scarcely seen such a fight up-close, the Albinauric withstood in stoic silence as the pincer-beasts fought back, standing up on all its legs and unleashing water projectiles from its mouths. Too fast to be avoided, at least two red-specters died before they could avoid it, losing their body parts and collapsing into dust each. This left the surviving specter free to be attacked by several of the remaining blue specters and the Tarnished they fought with. Though she fought back fiercely, grabbing forth that red sword he'd seen earlier –how, he thought, for he had disposed of it- and swinging it around, she too fell when one Tarnished managed to smash her into gruel with the help of his hammer: the rest of the horse-riders had, by then, been killed in the crossfire, sometimes unwillingly taking attacks that would have killed the Tarnished.
With the red specters having fallen, the blue ones simply rolled away from the fight and faded away into nothing, though the process appeared to be painless for them. In their wake remained three Tarnished, each rolling about whenever the other made a move. Now was his time – if three fighters remained, then nothing was stopping another from joining in, and he could see blue flashes of light hinting at another fighter joining the fight. With hurried despair, the Albinauric departed from his bush and began to run away, deciding to run until his legs fell off, or at least couldn't support his proper body weight.
It was a decision that could have gotten him killed at any moment, yet the "little frog" had luck aplenty, or every hostile in the vicinity had been killed in the fight because he didn't meet anyone on the way there. The screaming and clashing behind him continued for a while until it faded… to be replaced by more murder and cries of agony, countless occurrences of the fight he had just been a spectator of continued within the fog, and it only made him run faster in a foolish bid to outrun all that violence.
The fatigue was coiling around him with a deadly grip as he felt the insides of his body almost burning with the effort. His legs began to feel like they were made of lead, and every instance of moving them was a miracle. Yet he couldn't slow down nor look back, for he dreaded seeing a Tarnished behind him. And that only got worse when he saw some ruins in the distance: it might have been the fogs of age, but he could swear that he never saw ruins like these in the past, which wasn't bidding well for him if he was lost. With a final push, he crouched behind a decrepit wall, chiding himself for not checking for hostiles and knowing well that there was nothing to do if he happened to stumble upon an enemy.
The relief from earlier was gone as he plopped down, only barely reminding himself to keep the prawns out of the mud and water. But that was all he could do, for his legs and arms were almost punishing him for pushing them to their limits, causing immense pain and fatigue to occur to him whenever he wanted to grab or touch something. And he could only make those go away if he simply laid down and recovered, a suicidal prospect, but one he had to try.
Though his eyes should be set everywhere around him, the curious Albinauric leaned his back against the cold, wet stone and looked up, closing those big black orbs on his head and imagining himself elsewhere for a moment. And then he opened his eyes to the sky above to avoid immediate disappointment upon seeing the ruins again. He rarely had his eyes on the stars when he slept because, ideally, he was in his "home" with something of a roof on his head, but he couldn't help but admire them tonight. These peaceful orbs of light hover above a cold and chaotic world.
What he wouldn't give to dwell amongst them, free of worries, free of the constant pain, free of the constant fear of death. It could undoubtedly be boring up there, but he'd take boredom over death. And… he reached for one of his pouches, extracted a prawn, and engulfed it in his mouth, the taste lightly revitalizing him. Oh, and the prawns, he wouldn't do with the prawns as well. Maybe the promised land was there? The legless and everyone else in the troop could be in one of those light orbs, watching over him peacefully, living happy lives, far away from the violence and insanity below.
That prospect made giving up tempting. Simply cease struggling forever for a pointless fight and pass on to happier things. Absent-mindedly, the Albinauric grew comfortable with being found by a Tarnished and reached upwards, intending to "grab" one of the stars.
And then it moved.
Before the Albinauric's stunned eyes, the stars he had reached for moved, tracing a golden line across the sky. And another star began to move before he could register what had happened... And so did several others, propelling themselves at unimaginable speed. And several more burst out of the cosmic void, launching across the dark blue infinity in powerful rays of white light. To his astonishment, the stars in the sky were all shooting across the sky as if herded by divine hands.
The sky was filled with white lines, the cosmic phenomenon causing every living being to form a brief truce to stare in awe. From the beginning of time, the stars had been still, and now they moved across the sky, almost blanketing it in white lines. What was making them leave? Where were they going? He couldn't know.
The Albinauric stared, dumbfounded, and got up, his earlier peace with death now quelled by the incredible cosmic sight. What was happening? What kind of force was at play? The Albinauric could only stare until he noticed one of the orbs coming closer and closer, like it was about to touch the ground. Disturbed yet fascinated, the "little frog" watched it go, wondering what sort of magic was at play. And then he realized that he could indeed see the "star" approaching the ground to the north, past the gigantic towers of the dreaded Raya Lucaria, and a foreboding feeling prompted the Albinauric to get up and begin to bolt again.
It was a fear worse than what the Tarnished did. Because the Albinauric could outrun or outwit those. But that? A cosmic bolt sailing across the heavens to smite the world? That was different.
As the Albinauric began to run, the world behind him… imploded
…
I'll reassure you, the fic doesn't end here! But we're about to reach a turning point.
This might be Rya's last appearance, at a bad point too, but don't worry, she has a tough shield defending her. Though she's a bit screwed with recruiting right now. I liked writing her! I wouldn't mind doing a short story with her later. Granted, only if you guys liked her enough.
This should also settle where the Tarnished is, the real one. Let me tell you, she's doing Radahn at a fairly late point!
Next up, another game character appear, can you guess which?