AN: And here... we... go. I'm not even taking a one-day break to wait for reviews. Also, sorry if some of you suddenly lost track of where the story went because I bumped the rating up to M. I'm afraid it was either that, or change a detail I consider to be very important to the story. If I get enough reviews saying that it was vague enough to keep a T rating, I'll change it back, but I'm going to follow the site guidelines above all else. As always, reviews are desperately wanted, just... don't give me crap about moving up Lautrec's quest schedule. Without further adieu, I'm jumping into the main story.

Chapter Six: Displacement

The chaos flame of Raven's Zweihander, as it turned out, was excellent at melting through the cast-iron gates of Sen's Fortress. In moments, she had widened the small hole, only large enough for herself and Oscar to fit through whilst unarmored into a massive gap in the gate which even Havel, in his massively bulky armor, could easily slip through. Tarkus stepped out of the gloom of the fortress.

"Change of plans, I'm guessing?" Tarkus asked, looking pointedly at Oscar, who nodded.

"That's correct. We're going to ring the second Bell of Awakening. We won't ever have need to venture through this mess again. We have the Lordvessel," Oscar replied. Oscar was back in his normal plate armor, and Raven was getting used to her own set of bulky brass armor.

"I was thinking we'd go back to Firelink Shrine and see if we can squeeze any more information out of that crestfallen warrior," Raven offered, and the entire group, now numbering a shocking six, excluding herself, nodded. They all gathered around the bonfire, and Raven placed her hand on the coiled sword hilt, preparing to warp.

"We have a problem," Raven announced, looking up.

"What's wrong?" Ornstein asked, "I can guarantee you that the Lordvessel can be used indefinitely. It doesn't get used up after one warp."

"The power is still there," Raven clarified, "but there's something... off, about the Firelink bonfire. It's almost like it's resisting us warping there."

"I can't think of any reason for it," Ornstein replied, "Go ahead and try to break through the resistance. It should be fine." Raven nodded, and pulled the group towards the Firelink bonfire. Suddenly, she felt a horrible ripping sensation along with the burning that she had felt before, and instinctively grabbed Oscar, the closest person next to her. In that moment, she felt an immense strain, and the world went black.

That was odd. Raven knew what it felt like to die. This wasn't it. Death was just feeling the pain of whatever killed you, and immediately finding yourself back at one of many life-force providing bonfires. This was a sensation she hadn't experienced since before she became undead. This almost felt like normal sleep. Suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

"Raven!" Oscar was leaning over her, shouting in concern.

"What?" Raven asked, sitting up.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought that you were dead, and that your darksign had somehow... failed. There's just no way to tell. Well, that's one problem that took care of itself. Next question: where are we?" Raven hesitated, taking a look around. This was... this was impossible. The green, grassy field, with a high wall in the distance, marking the edge of an all-too familiar city.

"How did we wind up here?" Raven wondered aloud, taking in scenery that she had been sure she would never see again.

"I'll ask again where exactly here is," Oscar reminded her, nudging.

"This isn't even Lordran. We're just outside the capital of Zena!" Raven exclaimed.

"That's impossible. The curse of the undead binds us to Lordran once we reach it," Oscar commented, "And there doesn't seem to be a bonfire anywhere NEAR here. Wait. Where is everyone else?" Both of them had a brief moment of panic as they realized that they were once again alone with each other.

"Well, there's only one thing to do," Raven said.

"Oh?" Oscar looked at her.

"Head into town, of course. We're both in human form, so we won't be recognized, although it might be obvious that I've been here before. I actually might be recognized, in which case we're in a whole different mess. But I don't see any other options, do you?"

"No," Oscar answered, "I don't." They started the long trek towards the city in the distance.

Havel felt the burning of scorching flames briefly, along with a sense of nausea, before finding himself in an arid plain. There were some shrubs and the like around, but nothing in the way of true foliage. In the distance, he noted a large city, built out of sandstone. He had no clue where this was, despite having traveled all over Lordran.

"Oh..." A muffled grunt, characteristic of the Onion Knight Siegmeyer, sounded behind him, and he turned around. Sure enough, Siegmeyer was there, swaying as though dizzy, but no one else was in sight.

"This isn't Firelink," Havel announced, "Do you have any idea where we are?" Siegmeyer immediately seemed to snap out of his daze, and he looked around.

"Why, of course! We're about half a day's journey away from Catarina! Oh, that's a glorious sight that I never thought I'd see again. Oh! I may just see little Lin again!" The phrase sparked something in Havel's memory. Little Lin. Then he had it. A catarinan girl, noteable for being the only human he had ever observed to come and visit a family member in Lordran before returning to the outside world. He remembered having feelings for her, and she had flirted and played with him. But that was before he had been imprisoned. Yes, an undead might survive that long, but his human family certainly wouldn't. And, despite Lordran's flow of time being convoluted, he doubted it was that mangled. Still, he had to ask.

"Your daughter's full name wouldn't happen to be Sieglinde, would it?" Havel asked in a tone that hid his interest, seeming to just be making small talk.

"It is! How on earth did you guess?" Siegmeyer asked. Havel felt a thrill rise in him.

"I think I met her, once, whilst she was visiting you in Lordran," Havel explained.

"That' interesting," Siegmeyer replied, "She did come to Lordran on one occasion, but I made her leave the instant I realized she was there. Lordran is no place for a normal human. I'm surprised you saw her during that brief time she was there." Havel debated telling Siegmeyer about his own crush on the Onion Knight's daughter, but decided against it for now.

"Shall we give your homeland a visit?" Havel asked.

Tarkus pulled off his helmet, worrying that the wave of nausea that had rolled over him as they warped would result in a loss of his stomach's contents. The nausea passed, however, and Tarkus replaced his helmet. Then he noticed the golden-armored figure next to him, looking at him curiously.

"What is this trickery?" the man said, drawing his twin shotels, and glaring daggers at Tarkus. He noticed the firelink bonfire had gone dark. Tarkus raised his shield quickly, but the shotel's curve snapped around the shield, scratching his armor. He responded with a quick shield bash, throwing the golden knight off-balance. Tarkus followed up with a quick chop with his massive greatsword. The golden knight recovered his balance just in time to produce a parrying dagger and deflect the blow. A quick stab with the curved shotel found a gap in Tarkus' armor, and he gasped in pain, dropping to one knee as the golden knight yanked his shotel out of Tarkus' chest. Tarkus dropped to the ground, trying to find the strength to rise.

"Hmph. And here they told me that an extinguished bonfire can't be warped too. This certainly throws a wrench in my plans. Oh, well. It's nothing I can't deal with," the golden knight said idly, pulling out a homeward bone. Tarkus roared in rage, refusing to let his opponent escape, and stabbed at the golden knight through the chest, shoving his greatsword further in as the knight gasped, dropping the homeward bone.

"Why, you little... curses! How could I..." the golden armored knight faded into smoke and mist on his death, leaving behind a few interesting items. First and foremost was a golden ring, seeming to be linked to the goddess Fina. Tarkus had no interest in such, so he placed it in his satchel rather than putting it on. Second was a group of humanity, which Tarkus also decided to save for later. And lastly... Tarkus growled. A firekeeper's soul, seeming to resonate with the nearby bonfire. What crimes had this monster committed? Suddenly, Tarkus heard applause.

"I must thank you," a depressed voice announced from behind, "I think that's the best show I've seen in ages." Tarkus whirled in fury, not seeing his companions.

"Why didn't you do anything?" he demanded, charging the source of the voice, a warrior in chain mail armor that could only be the crestfallen warrior that Raven had mentioned before she initiated the warp. A growing suspicion in Tarkus' mind told him that the gold-armored knight that he had just killed was responsible for whatever had gone wrong. It was beyond suspicion, without doubt, in his mind that it had. Now he was thinking about what he was going to do about it, and it started with getting a straight answer from this man, however much intimidation was necessary.

Solaire materialized on a mountain, with a decidedly wonderful view of the sun. He had felt something decidedly strange with that warp, however. It wasn't at all what Raven had told him it would be. On top of that, this mountain was not Firelink shrine. He had been there, somewhat recently, and unless he had been thrown for a loop by Lordran's convoluted time, to a time before the shrine had been constructed, he was in a place that was completely... wait. He recognized this. The mountain view, overlooking a grand view of the sun, and a glorious, silver city with spires rising high into the air, wide walls, and luxurious palaces. This was his homeland, Astora.

"This isn't exactly what I had expected when I heard you all talking about Firelink Shrine," Ornstein's voice announced from behind Solaire.

"It's not. Something went wrong. You see that city down there?" Solaire pointed at the grand capital of Astora as Ornstein stepped up beside him.

"Yes. It's almost like a silver Anor Londo," Ornstein observed.

"That's the capital of Astora," Solaire told the Dragonslayer, and Ornstein gasped audibly.

"Oh, no. Wait. The others. They aren't here. Oh, this is bad. This is so, very bad," Ornstein's body language exuded barely contained panic, despite his facial expression being hidden by his lion-shaped mask.

"What's happened? Other than the fact that we're in the wrong spot?"

"If we wound up here, it means that the binding magic of Lordran has been shattered, and all of the horrors that it contained... well, they've been dispersed across the world just as we have, unleashed on an unsuspecting population of humans. If we don't reign in those monsters quickly, there won't even be anyone sane left to worry about the first flame fading," Ornstein said, even his voice conveying horror.

"That means we've got to get down there, protect the city!" Solaire exclaimed, not understanding the bit about the first flame. He rushed towards the edge of the mountaintop, towards Astora, before Ornstein restrained him.

"Are you a fool? I'm a Knight of Gwyn! They'll peg me as undead in an instant, armor or no. Our only hope is to find our way back to Lordran, and rekindle the first flame. That should yank all of these creatures back to Lordran. We'll give our lives for the rest of the world. Now the matter is actually finding a way back..." Solaire looked at Ornstein, frowning in confusion.

"What's all this about the first flame? And why do we have to die permanently in order to kindle it?" Solaire demanded, and Ornstein shook his head.

"I'll explain on the way. What's the best way back to Lordran from here?" Solaire thought for a moment, before he remembered that Astora was his homeland. He knew the exact path with which he had been shipped off to the undead asylum, and from there he could easily navigate back to Lordran.

"Aye, siwmae," a guard called from atop the walls of Zena, "and a good day to you. What brings you to the gates of our city?" Oscar took a breath to answer, but Raven held up a hand.

"There's a certain culture, here. Let me do the talking," she told him in a low voice.

"Aye, siwmae," Raven called back up, keeping her tone just as jolly as the guards, "and a good day to you. We're, well, servants, of sorts. You see, we enjoy seeing people happy, so we help them out. We wish for a place to rest, before we continue on our way. And who knows? Maybe we can help some of you out, while we stay."

"I see. Go on in. I'm afraid I can't advise an inn, though. I abide here, and so I have little experience with them. But I wish you luck." Some chatter among the guards later, the portcullis was raised, and Raven and Oscar stepped into the city. As soon as they had entered, they were overwhelmed with cheery calls of "aye simwae," both to them and exchanged between the numerous citizens. Cheery exchanges occurred between citizens, and Raven knew from experience that this was a unique land in which casual, friendly conversations could spring up between complete strangers. Raven kept a smile on her face, and answered every greeting just as cheerily as it was given. Oscar remained silent behind her, watching her interactions with interest. Raven knew exactly where she was going, and made a beeline towards an inn that she remembered as being especially friendly towards travelers. She moved quickly, but not so quickly as to be rude to anyone who wanted to greet her.

"Where are we going?" Oscar asked in a somewhat darker tone than was strictly acceptable for the society, and Raven responded quickly with her cheery mask.

"Why so down?" she began, "It's a positively wonderful day. And I may add, in answer to your question, that our destination just so happens to be an inn I remember from my previous stay here. I found it quite nice." Oscar fell silent again, and Raven hurried on, feeling her instincts adjust her very body language to exude joy and contentment. Soon, they arrived at a large building, a homely-looking mix of wood and cobblestone.

"And this is our destination," Raven announced, opening the door and stepping in. She heard merriment from the bar near the entryway, and a bit of her smile became real as she stepped up to the bar, which also served to rent rooms from the inn upstairs.

"Aye, siwmae," Raven announced joyfully, getting the bartender's attention, and he turned around.

"And a good day to you," the bartender replied, finishing the statement. "So, what can I get for you?"

"We'd like to rent a room," Raven replied, "and a pair of drinks. Something strong, if you will." This was completely in conflict with the character she had used at the inn previously, and she hoped it was enough to prevent the barkeep from connecting the dots between the 'two' women from Carim that he had interacted with.

"Of course," the barkeeper smiled, filling two mugs and handing them across the counter, "just say the word when you want to call it a night." Raven passed one to Oscar, and they chose a table to take a seat.

"So, what's the real plan here?" Oscar asked in a whisper, not touching his mug. Raven took a swig from her own, and winced. It left an awful burning feeling in her throat as she swallowed, but she quickly replaced her expression of pain with her usual, grinning mask. The alcohol created a warm radiance within her, and her smile widened.

"I don't really have one," Raven replied, "but it's nice to be back here. I figured we'd stay a while. I mean, there isn't any harm in it. The curse isn't contagious or anything. Try the drink. It actually isn't that bad." Oscar hesitantly took a sip, and swallowed. He grinned.

"I had forgotten what good drink was like. That's some fine brandy," Oscar said, taking a heavy pull from his mug. Raven took another swig of her own drink, and as they talked, she realized that her mug had been emptied. She never intended to go back for seconds, much less thirds, but it happened before she even realized it.

"Halt! Who goes there?" Onion-armored guards, stationed at the top of Catarina's sandstone-brick walls, seemed significantly less jubilant than the descriptors Havel had heard from others of the Catarinans. Havel's mind went blank, and he panicked. He obviously couldn't give his real name, or he would be laughed at. Or, worse, they might actually believe him, shipping him off to the Undead Asylum, from which he had no guarantee that he could manage to escape. Siegmeyer quickly came to his rescue.

"I'm Siegmeyer of Catarina," he announced, "I'm returning from a mission to Lordran to find this man, Arch-Bishop Havel the Rock." The guards looked at each other with surprised faces, before rapidly drawing bows.

"Siegmeyer of Catarina was declared dead 15 years ago!" one guard shouted, drawing back his bowstring.

"Check your reports again, good sirs. I was declared UNdead, and it was all a ruse, an excuse to get me to Lordran for the purpose of my mission."

"And why should we believe you? How are we supposed to know that this is actually Havel, and not some accomplice you hired to strut around in the bishop's armor?" another guard demanded.

"And where exactly would Havel's armor have been resting? If this isn't the man himself, which I will firmly defend that it is, it must have been taken off his corpse, and I must ask you how you think I found it without completing my mission anyways?" Siegmeyer announced, and Havel stepped up to the gate.

"If you don't open up," he shouted, butting into the conversation, "I'll bash the doors down and squish the lot of you to a pulp! I was brought here for a purpose, and I'll see it fulfilled. I'm certainly not about to allow some petty gate guards to stand in my way."

"And what might that purpose be?" the guards demanded, and Havel dropped his club from his shoulder, preparing to smash through the gates.

"All right, all right! We'll let you in! Just... don't go squishing any citizens, or you'll answer to a power higher than us," a guard conceded, signaling for the gates to be opened. A quick bustle on the walls saw the massive, cast-iron doors swing open, and Havel stepped into the city, not even caring to check if Siegmeyer was keeping up.

"Oh-ho! Well done, friend. I recon more than one of them lost control of their bladders, there," Siegmeyer congratulated, "And it's certainly miles better than what I would have done." Havel chuckled.

"Now, I actually did want to come here for a reason," Havel told him, when they had had their laughs. "I need a map of the area. Our main goal is finding Raven. She has the Lordvessel, and probably the best idea of what went on. Now, I think I've found a pattern here. There were 7 of us, and it felt like Tarkus didn't get dragged along. That makes 6. There's only two of us. Now, I'm guessing that we were split into three groups of two. It's either going to be Solaire and Oscar in one, and Raven and Ornstein in the other, or Raven and Oscar in one, and Solaire and Ornstein in the other. I'm saying that because Raven has very little connection to Solaire, so a pairing of Raven and Solaire is not very likely, and Oscar doesn't really have a connection to Ornstein either. So, if another pattern I've noticed holds true, the groups will be placed where someone has been before. I guaruntee you that Solaire is in Astora, unless this was just chance. The problem is Raven. We have no idea where she's been. Carim, based on her hair, but other than that, it's a shot in the dark."

"Mmm," Siegmeyer hummed in thought, "That's a most curious problem. If Raven isn't in Carim, and isn't in Astora with Oscar- neither of which we can disprove, by the way... she must be in Zena. You see, those people are incredibly fond of trinkets, and she was wearing an interesting-looking ring that didn't seem to have any particular purpose, during the brief time I saw her, as well as a stone-plated ring. The only place she could have gotten something like that is in Zena, and she obviously has personal ties to it if she kept a souvenir."

"Bravo, friend!" Havel exclaimed, "Now to figure out what groupings, and which of the three spots she wound up in. I need a map..."

"I - I don't know ANYTHING about the Lordvessel! I've never laid eyes on the thing!" the knight exclaimed, "Maybe you can get answers from the Witch of Izalith, down below? She's the only one about whom I haven't had a confirmation of insanity. You'll have to go through the Lower Undead Burg and the Depths in order to reach Blighttown."

"How do I get there," Tarkus demanded, lowering his voice to a barest, menacing whisper, and he could have sworn the warrior would have soiled his pants, had he not been undead.

"I-i-it's accessible by a basement. Under one of the bridge towers between the Burg and the Parish. Please! I have a key! Here, take it! Take it! Just don't hurt me..." Tarkus accepted the key.

"There's just one more thing," Tarkus said, his deep voice partially muffled by his helm to create the perfect effect he wanted.

"What is it? Please..."

"You're coming with me," he told the warrior, who recoiled.

"No, I..." he trailed off as Tarkus hefted his massive greatsword.

"Oh, fine. It's better dying later than dying now, I suppose. Let's go." Tarkus hauled the warrior up by the back of his mail shirt, dragging him along.

"My name's Andrew, by the way," the warrior told Tarkus.

"I don't care," Tarkus replied. They started up the stairs to the Undead Burg.

AN: There wasn't a whole lot of action in this one, but it's still a huge moment. Up next: Tarkus and Andrew vs. The Capra Demon, and Raven and Oscar vs. Pinwheel (in Zena, too! That'll be interesting). Meanwhile, Havel and Siegmeyer attempt to defend Catarina against a flood of Darkwraiths. Stay tuned!