In the centuries that have transpired never has it crossed my mind that we would ever peer into a darkness blacker than the deep Abyss. Make no mistake. This is naught, but the very beginning of what's to come.
The Bearer of the Curse couldn't agree more with the scholar, the blackness that surrounded them was deep, seemingly endless. Even with the pyromancy flame and Aldia's burning form he could barely see himself let alone a single inch into the distance. There was nothing but more empty space that awaited him below. A lack of proper ground to stand would have alarmed him to no end were it not for the fact that didn't feel like falling. It was like slowly sinking in water that he could breathe in, the slow pace being almost peaceful. Although he had never confided in this with anyone such a sensation was nothing new to the Bearer. He had felt it, only momentarily when summoned by a fellow undead to their time or when invading, the latter was not the most virtuous part of his life.
Unsurprisingly more darkness followed, after what the Bearer could guess was a couple of hours. But, what did time mean when its already fragile boundaries were being broken? It was not enough that Gwyn's linking of the flame fated the world to eventually be painfully burned to ash, but so had time itself become twisted, no longer flowing in a single direction. The Undead could feel it in his soul, outside of this empty blackness space-time shook, cracked, rupturing into a new path every second he fell. His world was long behind him now. There was no steering back now.
In the Lord of Light's attempt at keeping his kingdom together, he had unwittingly handed the tools needed for Humanity to save itself. He was using the fruits of another Lord's failure for his own advancement, something about that was oddly familiar to him. Can I really blame a Lord's fear of the Dark? There is much to fear from an empowered enemy that is unable to die. A human with purpose and hope in their heart can go farther than a Lord can dream off, every one of those chosen fools can attest to that.
Light, a blinding light flashed in front of them, it was nothing more than a small crack in a sea of darkness, but its mere appearance gave the Undead Warrior relief that even the sight of an already lit Bonfire couldn't rival. His face must have betrayed his enthusiasm if Aldia's sole chuckle had anything to say about it. Or perhaps it was simply the satisfaction that lead his friend to break the long silence? Nonetheless, the Bearer of the Curse found himself laughing along. In hindsight it was utterly mad…maybe if Hollowing wasn't going to do him in then it would be ordinary insanity.
The crack of light grew as they fell towards it, containing within it glimpses of another world that they couldn't quite see clearly yet, but something that undeniably existed. Moments later the light enveloped them entirely leaving the blackness to become nothing more than a fading memory.
The sun shone brightly down onto a forest, its beams of warm light gracing the fauna and wildlife with its soothing presence. The rustling trees basked in its warmth, their dry leaves and needles being carried aloft by an icy cool wind and their forms creating shadows where critters could seek shelter in, either from the environment or predators that pursued them. Chirping birds, stray animals, and buzzing incest ensured that their home was a quiet one. Nature was at its most harmonious, active, and undisturbed.
In a forest's clearing a pure black spot appeared. It floated in the middle of the air, remaining unmoving safe for the subtle unstable vibrations emanating from it. Several minutes later and the anomaly suddenly expanded, turning into a crack, which leaked out an evaporating pitch-black liquid. A crack expanded even further, becoming a large portal into a never-ending abyss, its thin curvature was a blazing fire. A gaping hole formed, it was an open wound of the universe itself. It looked foreboding, anyone that had the mere thought of stepping in would likely have a shiver run done their spine no matter how strong their mettle.
Soon, a lone armored figure stumbled out of it, dropping to his knees as the portal closed. The only thing that kept his face from colliding with the singed grass was his left arm that he used to support himself. The Bearer of the Curse coughed, each breath and gasp he made was sharp pained. He grasped the back of his left shoulder, smoke escaping from the open space of his collar. The man's back was getting hotter by the second; he felt skin sizzle as though it was being scorched above a flame.
The Undead Warrior's left arm collapsed, causing him to fall. He writhed in pain on the ground. This was unlike anything he was used to, in combat he had experienced all sorts of physical abuse, electrocution, maiming, burning, stabbing, frostbite, sorcery, anything an undead could expect from their number of adversaries. Yet this was more of phantom pain, it dug deep into his soul, unlike any magic he had faced. He scrambled to reach for his pouch and pull an Estus flask. It was empty, cold to the touch, all of them were... Burning vines burst out of the ground, propping the man back up onto his feet and supporting him, as the man gasped and whispered pleas of mercy. A healing miracle came forth from the vines, but it did very little to soothe the undead's torment.
It didn't take long for the realization to hit the Bearer of the Curse. The Darksign, the very thing that had branded his and the body of many undead...was burning. A jet of flame erupted from his back, rising in intensity every second that passed. Its shape and form was anything but ordinary, it was that of that Darksign with fire spilling out anywhere but the empty hole at the center. Strangely enough, the fire didn't burn his cloth. Neither had it burnt the plant matter supporting him, or even the hand that touched the flame. It was only that one spot that burned, the pain burrowing deep into him.
From the world around, the deep shadows, a dark mist came to the Monarch with haste. Like a liquid, it bubbled forth from the ground and air and gathered densely around his frame. The formless dark wrapped around his legs, arms, and torso, lastly rushing toward his Darksign.
He patted it his back, attempting to desperately snuff out the flame, but it only rose higher and higher. It seemed it was the end for him until the sound of a loud crack broke his desperate focus. Aldia spoke but his ears were ringing, the Undead couldn't hear him. He couldn't explain why but the mere sound replayed in his head endless as though it had meant something important to him, his instincts screaming in joy for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
The stream of flame coming out of his back dimmed, its wildness becoming stilled as dying cinders spilled out of it onto the ground. It began to sputter, desperately trying to keep itself alight. Yet its call for fuel was utterly denied by the Undead's soul. Instead, it was met with a wave of crushing darkness washing over it, snuffing out the last remains of life within the roaring fire.
And then…silence, sweet blissful silence came to his mind and body. The vines restraining loosened, letting the Bearer of the Curse march on his own feet. He took two steps, a dark mist utterly enveloped him, a life filled him and his Soul and Humanity roared to life.
In the plane beyond mortal reach and perception, golden light flourished. It covered every single corner, not leaving behind a single speck of shade safe for the shadows its inhabitants cast. Within that light lay a realm of stars, clouds, and divinity, none of the architecture here was made by mortal hands. This mystical land was completely separate from the world humans called home, nonetheless, it did not stop its angelic dwellers from watching or descending down to the material "lesser" world.
The master of this realm sat in a lone room, as isolated as it was it still contained unparalleled comforts and luxury that even emperors and kings would go green with envy over. It was deathly quiet, the only sound existing being the methodical tapping of fingers against a table. She was the very definition of elegance befitting of a goddess, having brilliant flowing locks of blond hair, which concealed her sharp-pointed ears, white silken attire that matched her wings, blue eyes, and a face that would behold purity were it not for the scowl she wore as she glared into a seemingly empty space.
Dark invaded her senses. It originated from the earthly world below spreading so far that even reached the outskirts of her realm. That darkness hung in the air mocking her as it dared to exist in her close presence. The goddess had no doubt her subjects felt the shift in the atmosphere as well despite their lackluster abilities in comparison. No events that transpired within the universe went unnoticed by her. She had felt how for a single moment, an instance, space and time had twisted beyond anything she had witnessed before. It was anything but a natural occurrence, something with that with all of her power she would have a hard time replicating if she even wanted to.
However that was nothing more than a mere curiosity for a being like her, it was the sheer quantity of this dark that perturbed to no end. Had she…? No, that is not possible…that seal wouldn't break under these circumstances
Her piercing stare refocused and turned to the location where the dark power bellowed out and she found a peculiar sight. It made her freeze up, her shoulders slowly dropping as the tension left her replaced with curious bewilderment. Her scowl turned neutral, only a single raised eyebrow revealed her emotions. The intruder was the complete opposite of what she had imagined, it was just a human or someone who looked to be human, yet he certainly didn't feel human.
Her finger's grip on the arm of the chair tightened, she drew a long breath and observed carefully.
Tamamo's fox ears twitched as she approached her future lord's personal room, the sound of soft snoring behind the closed door was unmissable by her senses. She raised an eyebrow, her ward trouble falling asleep by herself being endlessly plaque by nightmares and vivid dreams that left her screaming or waking up in a cold sweat. Either this was a blessed one-time occurrence or she was making actual progress in recovering. Nevertheless, she gently opened the door, making sure to make as little sound as possible, she wasn't the only one with advanced hearing in this castle. Inside the room slept a little purple-skinned lamia. Her head and body heavily leaned against the study desk, only being cushioned by a loose paper underneath. All around her were thick books, the study material that Tamamo assigned her. They were arranged into some sort of makeshift fortress, likely out of boredom.
Poor girl, she must've worked herself to the bone. Well, no point in disturbing her, it's hard to get her asleep so peacefully without an entire night getting spent. The fox Monster chuckled at the sight, lightly closing the door. She took a mental note of the detail. Perhaps it would be better to run her ward to exhaustion in some manner before sending her off to bed. It was always easier to put an already tired person to sleep than someone who is not.
Tamamo strolled through the great halls of the Monster Lord's castle, thinking on the affairs she would have to manage in her late Lord's stead and the education of her child. She sighed, her lord was dead and she was left to clean up the broken pieces…That naïve idealist indirectly fell by her own hands and the damned plan of hers, willfully slain by a group of heroes, which weren't even qualified to step foot on the entrance of her castle let alone the continent she directly ruled over. No matter how much the Kitsune tried to convince her lord that her plan wouldn't bring coexistence or solve anything she wouldn't listen, throwing aside the fox Monster's centuries of experience of seeing Monster Lords rise and fall. All of their deaths only led to Humans getting bolder, more aggressive in expanding their claim to the world.
As she found her way to the stairs she suddenly stumbled on the first steps and would have fallen were it not for her acrobatic skills and instincts saving her from pain and shame. Her eyes went wide open as she leaned against a wall. A type of pressure came over from the right side, it was blatant, powerful, anyone slightest skill in sensing energy could have felt it. Deep darkness emerged from the Sentora continent without warning, and she couldn't remember the last time there was ever that much in one place.
Mother…?
Immediately Tamamo jumped into full gear, leaping down from a flight of stairs and seemingly vanishing as she landed on the carpet, leaving behind no trace except for a loose strand of fur from her tails. The Monster knew where to go, only a mere second of being exposed to the energy told her of its location, nothing was concealing it. She reappeared in a forest and broke into a full sprint toward the origin of the power.
Tamamo mused on why she didn't directly teleport there, perhaps it had been disbelief that the creator had broken the seal or even fear that held hand during this decision. It mattered little to her, curiosity and hope reaffirmed every step she took until the journey there wouldn't take long for her to trek. She finally peered into the clearing, her twisting momentarily into disappointment and then troubled concern. The one who was before her was not her creator, but it still made her gasp in surprise. It was a man whose being was utterly bathed in darkness. He stood with arms wide open and a black mist emanated from his form, cloaking him and releasing him into a pillar of energy that reach for the sky itself. She could barely make out his features within the mist. The sound that came from him sounded like a disturbing mix between pained screaming and mad laughter to her ears.
Then, it all ended. All of the dark power that was being generated receded back into his body, even the grass around that was stained with black turned back into its normal color. The crowned man's body went limp. He took a few weak, exhausted steps and fell face-first into the dirt. For what felt like hours Tamamo stared at the man's unmoving form, still processing and comprehending what exactly had occurred here as she shut her gaping mouth with a palm. The overwhelming darkness that she felt before was all gone. Only a single concentrated trace of it remained within the one she was staring at.
The fox Monster took two steps forward, they were cautious. It wasn't long before those two steps spontaneously became several more and she was directly hanging over his laying form, gazing upon him. Part of her felt a strange form of relief to see him still breathing so easily. From a mere glance, a few experimental taps, and a whiff of his scent she could tell whoever this was didn't belong from here, that this was no mere man. A puzzling mystery had somehow landed itself in the middle of nowhere.
Yet Tamamo wasn't all too keen on having it remain a mystery to her for too long and so she casually lifted him onto her shoulder, being careful as to not drop any of his curious belongings. Although the man was large and was carrying a hefty amount of equipment she carried him with ease.
Now then, need a place somewhere safe and sound…
Winds howled through the ruins of a town, shaking what remained of the doors and windows in the many buildings. The Bearer of the Curse dashed through the empty streets to the exit gate, nothing but the clinking of armor following him as pale light blinded his eyes. He mostly avoided the makeshift barricades, vaulting over them, stepping aside, or even occasionally battering through them along with whatever Hollow was in the way without hesitation if it was judged weak enough. The Undead glanced behind him, seeing that the heavily armored Hollow hadn't stopped its pursuit of him. While many undead that Hollowed turned into soulless husks, some, more powerful still retained their agility and strength even in their hungering state. Their minds are gone, but their souls still cling onto flesh.
Those types were problematic, more so considering they didn't seem to be afraid of him, unlike the other withered undead, although in the end, it proved to be no more than an annoyance, one that he could either outpace or cut down. The Bearer of the Curse crossed the plaza and was nearing the gates. The small stone walls and the arch were now visible behind the many abandoned houses. Just a bit more and he would be leaving this decaying settlement for good. However it seemed like his luck had run dry, two more of those knights 'patrolling' the walls spotted him. It only took a second before they drew their weapons out and rushed him; likely eating away at whatever souls they could get from him.
There was no way of getting out of this without a fight, they surrounded him from the front and back, and simply running through would likely end with him getting hit. It was not something he could afford to do. Repair powder and miracles could only work so long before they were left ineffective and more capable hands were needed. Besides, what sort of Monarch ran from lifeless husks?
One of the knights seemingly found their mindless courage and lunged right at him with his heavy blade. The Bearer of the Curse held no sword or shield, yet approached his adversaries all the same. He twisted his body away from the blade's edge and gripped the extended arm with his right hand. Using his overwhelming strength he lifted his opponent off the ground and chucked him at the knight behind, they both crashed into the ground, one crushing the other under their weight and force of the throw.
The second in front came charging with rabid slashes. While some Hollows may have retained their skills, they had never retained enough. That much was evident to the Undead Warrior. His armored adversary's blows were all terribly telegraphed and had too much brute force behind them. He drew his weapon, lazily stepping away from a slash and striking at the weak joint of his enemy's armored arm. The arm that held the sword was hacked off cleanly, but the Hollowed knight was not dead yet. He grabbed his broadsword's fuller with his free hand for precision and thrust the blade's point into the small opening of the knight's visor, stabbing cleanly through its head and finishing it off.
A groan came from behind, there was only one left for him to deal with. The Bearer of the Curse let his weapon fall to the ground, it still being jammed into the Hollow's brains and helmet's steel. Glancing behind and seeing that the last Hollow was mere moments from striking his shoulders, he rushed and gripped its wrist. He twisted the Hollow's sword arm behind its back and forced it to the ground. His boot stomped on the Hollow's helmet, crushing its head as the stone underneath cracked from the sheer force.
All was said and done, his enemies laid dead beneath his feet, left for some other poor undead to fight when they finally would reform. The brutality of his methods matter little to him, their consciousness was far too gone to feel anything but hunger at that point. There was no reason for him to be humane in dispatching these threats. The Bearer of the Curse exhaled a hard breath, his stance relaxing. He took back his blade and cleaned it of the blood and brain matter that clung to it, before finally sheathing it and leaving the town to its fate.
The Undead Warrior went past the ever-open gates and trekked toward the Bonfire that waited for him. He saw no reason to waste a homeward bone and skip the relaxing scenery of the sun setting on an open field, the monotonous walking helped his mind rest easy and pace his thoughts and there was no one around that could interrupt him. Enjoying what little of peace this world still had, it was perhaps one of the few things that staved off plain insanity. Or perhaps the very nature of his goal already made him out to be a mad man, many would think so, of this he had no doubt.
This scenic respite could only last for so long, but it was enough to satiate his wanderlust for the moment. His path ended at a cliff, which gave a vantage point to a coastline, he fixed his attention on the burning glow of a Bonfire before scanning his surroundings. The Bearer of the Curse spotted a hooded figure nearby looking at the sunset, their green cloak fluttering in the wind brought the man a sense of relief he knew naught how to express.
The figure turned to face him, likely drawn by the noise of his armor clinking and the very presence of his soul. Brilliant red hair peeked out of the green hood. It concealed half of her face and a purple eye, which he had only seen in those rare moments when he brushed aside her hair. The other eye was brown and always out in view, staring intently at him.
"Shanalotte." The Bearer of the Curse greeted her as he approached her. In response, she gave him a reserved nod, although he didn't miss the partial smile on her face that wasn't obvious at first glance, yet he was used to keeping an eye on such little details. They were a mere arm's length away from each other before they stopped.
"Have you found what you were seeking in that ghastly town?" She inquired succinctly, straight to the point, though almost a bit too eagerly than what the Undead was used to hearing.
"Yes, I did, not as much as I hoped to, but yes…" The man answered with confidence, he was long away from the days of uncertainty and doubt. "There was a hidden coven of witches in underground tunnels of that settlement. All of them have either fled or perished before undeath could touch them. Nevertheless, some scraps of knowledge were left behind."
"And where will these scraps of knowledge go? Deep into the confines of my creator's archives, left forgotten?" The Emerald Herald questioned, staring deep into his red pupils. He didn't react to the sudden change of tone. After so long she had completely stopped holding back any comments, criticisms she had, at least with that came complete honesty he could rely on. "How long will take until you stop wandering as you've done before? What will it take you to break this cycle? What is there that you don't know yet when you have scoured these lands for so many years?"
"I-" The Monarch made a sudden pause, all of the knowledge he had gathered together with Aldia flashed before his very eyes, which held a spark of determination in them, something that he had nearly forgotten he still had.
"I can try. Certainly, I can try a lot…" He spoke, his voice quivering a bit as he looked to the sun, which light had begun to fade away from the land just as the First Flame was dimming." Only, I wonder how much this world can handle, how much will fate tolerate my actions? Gwyn had broken this world when he linked the flame, what if I shatter even further? Aldia tried and look where it got him- having an abomination for a body! No…it has to be certain to work, else, there will be nothing left but ash to inherit for humanity."
Shanalotte took another step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. The Undead Warrior hummed in confusion, seeing the faintest glimmers of mischief in that sole brown eye of hers, something wholly anathema to his impression of her. A dull sting of pain came from his back before he could say anything, as he flinched he saw the firekeeper pull out an arrow from behind him, its tip stained with blood that still dripped off the edge.
"I didn't even feel the arrow the entire way here…" He couldn't take his eyes away from the projectile in her gentle hands. It managed to pierce his titanite enforced armor…just what was the thing made of?
"Oh, Bearer of the Curse…" She intoned, her voice being sweet, gentle, and understanding. "To think you are the same Undead with a soul so pale, fragile, and fading that stood before me in Majula…Now, a man stands before me whose spirit is vibrant, lively, and eternal, worthy of the title 'Monarch'. Whatever fate may exist in this accursed realm you have defied it once and you can do so again. If it takes another century, so be it."
"When fire lastly fades, I'll be at your side, watching." Shanalotte ran her fingers along with his chest plate, stopping at where the heart was vaguely located. The Herald didn't shiver as her skin made contact with the cold metal. "Even as my form has long passed…always…"
"Always at my side…If I am Monarch, would that make you my Queen? Will you lead me to ruin as well?" He humorously queried her. Those haunting memories of facing Nashandra and dealing with the consequences of her actions were long over.
"Forgive me, but I do not recall being born from the Abyss."
"Oh… I'm sure, we would much prefer it if you weren't. "They shared a quiet laugh.
Out of three daughters of the Abyss only one that didn't want to cause pandemonium wherever she went, yet still her existence did little to dissipate the weariness both of them had for any spawn of the darkest depths. While the creatures that lurked were ultimately birthed from Humanity they were all anything but human, only their emotions were. The Bearer of Curse had dived deep into those depths, or whatever pieces lingered from the Primeval-Man Manus.
"Admittedly, it is unfortunate that my efforts require time… time that much of my kind of little of." He looked to the path leading to the settlement that he left, gesturing toward it. "That town had such a nice festival, what a shame….it would have been nice to have visited there once."
"Is that so?"
"You can't fault a man for wanting to enjoy himself once in a while."
"Then." Shanalotte took a step back and offered her open palm to him, almost bowing. "Would you care to have this dance with me?"
A spontaneous twitch of a finger, a kick of a leg, the Bearer of the Curse gently shuddered and stirred underneath what felt like thin fabric. Eyes fluttered open. Bright light immediately flooded his corneas, making him instinctively close his eyes shut and cover his face. It made him wonder just how really much time did he spent failing in that void, not like that matters in the least bit. He was blinded either way and had to rely on other senses. For starters, he was laying on something soft and not hard dirt or slippery grass that had first greeted him in this foreign land. The smell was not that of a wild forest, there was no cold wind that against brushed his skin. More and more he had begun to suspect he was inside of some building, his ears picking up the peculiar sound of creaking wooden floorboards practically confirmed his theory. It only meant one thing, some stranger or perhaps even Aldia took him here, but for what reason?
Little by little his vision returned. He went from being able to only see differences in illumination and color, to vague shapes. As far as the Undead could tell, he found himself in a quaint and comfortable space. He was under a…bed, beneath bed sheets that were clean and had a floral scent. The man's grip on the cloth tightened, was he sleeping just now? Astonished, he slowly blinked and idly wondered when the last time he had ever actually slept was –days, weeks, years, a century? Were it not for the circumstances the answer would have perturbed him. Amused giggling that was feminine and young broke his trail of thought and focused his attention on a single point, on a moving figure, and was met with hues of gold, white and purple.
A minute later and clarity returned to the Bearer, letting him marvel at the simple beauty of the small bedroom he was in, his travel pack was leaned right against his bedside. It was a breath of fresh air from the ridged cold stone or wilds that usually surrounded him, but the thing that caught his eye was his unexpected guest…or rather his mysterious host sitting at the other end of the room, by the door.
She was tiny in stature and looked no older than a child, yet her emerald eyes, which observed his every movement, hid a certain ancient age behind that faux innocence. Nine golden tails calmly swaying behind her and the fox ears are what drew in his attention first before he examined her other features, particularly her clothing. The strange fox girl wore a loose dress that reassembled a style from the far lands of the East.
The vixen woman opened her mouth and spoke, noises and sounds coming out that he couldn't decipher. He did, at the very least, recognize that there was a pattern to the speech, one that resembled proper language instead of random grunts, and the tone certainly suggested it was a question. He shook his head didn't hide his confusion in his expression and over-exaggerated shrug. A few words did manage to escape his lips and it was the thing that was needed for the girl to understand that neither of them spoke a common language.
She raised her arms in a show of peace and approached him slowly. Each step made was deliberately shown and gave him no alert until got onto the bed and started crawling toward him at an even slower pace, her cautious stare didn't quite match the sly smirk on her face. Despite his discomfort at how unfittingly seductive her crawl was he held still and watched. Once the fox girl got close enough she reached out and touched his head.
In a mere instant, a cold shiver ran down his spine as heat crawled up his neck strangely enough. The Bearer of the Curse took in a sharp and sudden breath. Deep within his core, he felt a force reach his soul, it was dark like his own, yet nonetheless, his soul instinctively resisted the touch. There were only a few instances where this has happened, it was either being a victim of a Dark Hand or getting his spirit and body torn apart by sorcery, neither was a pleasant experience.
However, unlike the former, it fell like a forceful grab of power and more of an outstretched hand greeting him. He looked up at her, she was…pouting. Her expression showed distrust and unexplainable sadness as though he had stolen candy from a child. With great hesitation, he accepted the metaphorical hand, and soon soul matter connected and entangled together. Flashes of information flashed before his eyes and stabbed itself deep into his mind, it was forceful and fast, yet compared naught to any torment he had to endure, which kept his mind fully lucid.
He didn't miss the slight pull. This roadway of knowledge didn't only go in a single direction. His brow furrowed in frustration and he pulled his soul away, lightly pushing the fox woman off of him. A kind face and smile weren't going to trick nor dissipate his suspicion. Many used beauty, real or conjured, as a mask to hide their true intent or persuade others. If he was younger he would have fallen for such simple tricks. At first, he hadn't even suspected anything nefarious from Nashandra, at least in comparison to anyone else still alive during his throne-seeking days.
The nine-tailed woman fell back unto the comfortable back just be his legs, her mouth agape in shock. She was left shaking for a moment. All of her tails wrapped around her body, almost turning her into a ball of fur as she leaned up to meet his suspicious gaze. He watched as she tensed up at merely meeting his eyes, her entire posture shifted to be even smaller, more apologetic.
"You…you're older than me…" She spoke, breaking the long silence between them. It was a resolute, factual statement. There was no hint of assumption or confusion in her tone. Considering the apparent youth of the one that spoke them, the words appeared laughable at first glance, but the Bearer knew better, their temporary connection led to more revelations than just a means of communication.
The Bearer of the Curse let out a sigh. He licked his lips as the proper words came to his head, transforming from one language to another. However, a familiar booming voice in his head stopped him in his tracks.
Eyes and ears, Young Monarch, eyes and ears. They are all around us, no doubt about it. Lock those secrets in a chest. Bury them deep beneath the Dark of your soul. If our intention is to succeed none must hear of our plots, not the strange creature before you nor anyone else, until all threats have been scoured. Choose your words carefully. Say only what she may know and what is needed, but nothing more.
Aldia…you have hidden away I see…The Undead gave one more careful look around the bedroom, there was no hint of the scholar's burning form, he couldn't even feel his presence anywhere near with the only exception being his own thoughts. Although I'm not entirely sure what happened, I do know I went unconscious. May ask as to why did let me be taken? This entire situation could have been avoided if you had hidden me.
Partly curiosity and… an inability to do so. That one appeared just a few moments after you collapsed. We sensed no ill intent in her heart and sought no confrontation, so we allowed you to be taken. It had only served to lead us to whatever civilization that exists in this realm. That strange woman could prove a valuable asset if a connection is made, her soul is strong. Monarchs walk the tightrope of what is shown and what remains hidden, living in the shade and spotlight. One may gain trust from the secret they sell, but there is such a thing as revealing too much.
As if I don't already know…
"It seems neither of us looks as old as we truly are." The Bearer of the Curse said and then frowned. The language wasn't quite natural to his tongue as he had hoped, however, he could get used to this if this was all the inhabitant spoke. Fortunately, in spite of his discomfort, the rather paltry attempt at easing tensions worked, earning a chuckle from her.
"Indeed, suppose that is one of the few traits we share." The fox woman eyed him curiously, her body relaxing if ever so slightly. She watched him get out of the bed in a sluggish and clumsy manner. Stretching his legs he attempted to balance himself properly, his head still felt faint dizziness, but he powered through it as he mused on worse it could have been.
After a few moments, he found stable footing and stood confidently as he has done many times before as he turned to her, powerful red meeting unshaken emerald. "Mind telling me as to where I am, strange fox child?"
"Strange fox child…? How rude, couldn't even care to ask me mine name first." The vixen girl crossed her arms and pouted as though she was living up to her given title much to his dismay, yet he could tell this was all just a farce, most likely made to just mock him...or perhaps see if he could be riled up.
Unamused, the Undead Warrior rolled his eyes, moving closer to his belongings and equipment. "Oh, forgive me for having more pressing thoughts on my mind when I have just woken up in a place I utterly do not recognize… Though admittedly, it would be a start to know the name of one who likely brought me here."
"That's the spirit." The nine-tailed fox girl suddenly jumped from her nearly prone position and landed beside him in an impressive show of speed. With gracefulness that had contradicted her childish appearance and energy, she offered her hand to him. "My name is Tamamo, suppose you could tell me yours as well, no? It would only be fair…seeing as I have taken you to a safe place, who knows what could be out there in that forest."
The Monarch stared at her outstretched hand. For how long, He didn't know. When was the last time anyone asked after his name? Or, in fact, referred to him in such a manner? He remembered stumbling his way into the humble abode of those elderly Fire Keepers, on the very brink of Hollowing. Mocked him they might have done but they also gave him one of the first few drops of humanity he had ever gotten after his turn to undeath. With that, returned his very few first memories –a name.
"Nathanial, my name is…Nathanial." He replied as she shook her hand, the words that escaped his lips didn't sound right to him, but this was the closest translation that came to mind. No matter, a name that had no memories, appearance with it meant little. For all he was concerned with, "Nathanial" was the man he was before coming to Drangleic.
"Well then, Nathanial, welcome to Yamatai Village." Despite the apparent size difference and obvious lack of physique, her grip was strong, abnormally so. Only for just a moment, the mask slipped and he could see through the cheery demeanor, behind that welcoming smile was a warning against doing anything reprehensible to the settlement.
"Some village, hmm…that doesn't explain much to me. At least it's better than random wilderness." Nathanial murmured to himself and huffed, his neutral expression remaining unchanged. Turning away he strapped his sword and shield to his belt, and gathered the rest of his belongings, making sure nothing was missing, especially his bottomless box.
Without care, he tried to move past the fox girl but she wouldn't let up, always remaining in front of him. Like some dance, she followed his movements, he took a step forward, and she took a step back. Right to right, left to left, he attempted to maneuver around her, frustration increasing slowly the more he tried. Several minutes passed in silence as they pseudo-waltzed, she hadn't bothered on inquiring anything more from him and he could see why. She was enjoying this little game.
"Move aside, if you will." He ordered, inside the shadows, his glare shinned with dim red light. It wasn't with murderous intent, no…emotions such as hatred and true anger had long since faded away over the years, all that he was left was annoyance.
"And where will go exactly if I do? You appeared out of nowhere in a middle of a forest, speaking a language no one will understand… Do you intend to wander around? Because you clearly don't know where you are, in fact, I'd wager you don't even know the name of the continent you're on." With a sly grin, she made her point while poking his chest plate.
"If you're intent on questioning me, then at least allow me to see where I am, otherwise I may consider this a kidnapping, even if I'm armed and not currently bound." Nathanial's hand tightened around the hilt and his glare hardened for just a moment before he threw a vacant stare at nowhere and breathed a sigh, relaxing. "I mean no harm to you or anyone that lives here, but you can forgive a man for wanting to ease his nerves."
"Eh, that's fine." Tamamo shrugged as she let him walk past her, but not without taking his side and strolling alongside him as they left the room. "But, you're going to have to answer every question I have. Don't go off wandering, getting you here without anyone else following after was enough trouble with that worldwide announcement of yours."
If the Bearer of the Curse was surprised by such an exclamation he certainly didn't show it. He idly glanced at the tail that wrapped around his arm, the fur was soft and smooth, exceptionally so, enough to spark a minor desire within him to rub his naked fingers through it. However, the appendage held undeniable strength, he sense it.
Clever…if I wanted to draw my weapon, she would be able to apprehend me with that tail of hers. "World-wide announcement.", huh, just what exactly happened in that clearing? All I felt was pain…and that dark mist…
The Bearer of the Curse stood atop a hill, it poked through the tree canopy of the dense forest allowing him to survey the village below, which was neatly nestled into the middle of the flourishing fauna. The people there were friendly enough, at least in comparison to the simple folk in his own world. While there were weird stares directed at him as he passed by them all, there were no spiteful or suspicious glares, he sense little to no animosity within. The same could be said about Humanity…all of them were empty of Humanity just like mindless Hollows, but none appeared to have lost themselves, curiously enough…a subject to ponder for later, perhaps.
Around him was nothing but an endless land of trees and rough terrain, few roads went through to this region. To his left was land of high peaks and frost, of which he could feel its cold winds flowing through him. Behind him stood the fox girl, curiously observing him taking in the scenery. At his request she let him be for the moment, alone with his thoughts. Nathanial looked to the sky above, it was blue, bright blue. How long has it been since I've seen such a thing…?
Our efforts have proved fruitful, for we gaze upon a realm, in which natural breath is of life. We feel it…ash and stone were not the cornerstones of its birth, but blazing fire and eternal heat. This world is not bound to the whims of a dying flame and a long-forgotten Lord.
Nathanial glanced at his hand, stretching his finger and then clenching them. Upon taking the first steps he felt…different, there was something about how his body responded to his desire to move, there was no looming resistance or pressure upon him. Now, it was gone after his departure and the difference was not a sensation he could have felt before without having this presence hanging over him. He couldn't put it into words to describe this underlying feeling within the fabric of his being, his soul.
What happened to me…?
The First Flame was never born here. It has no grip over lands and heavens. Therefore whatever remains of it will sputter and truly die. Its power is fleeting, have you noticed your Estus flasks are empty, doomed to be forever cold?
Light's shackles over Dark have been broken…and with that, the ever-burning Sign that branded your body has faded, yet your flesh remains undying. How do you feel?
The Monarch closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. The cold foreign air strangely felt comforting, sending shivers down his spine, telling him he was alive. He looked deep into his soul, finding ethereal warmth and cold in it. It hit him finally, the difference…it was so peaceful, the Dark within no longer shuddered or stirred, no longer did it hatefully crash against its alien bindings for there were none left. The darkness was calm and still amongst the flowing rivers of soul matter
Nathanial relaxed his hands, raising them. They were slowly, ever so slowly reaching to his head before they gripped the humming silver of his crown. The headdress, enchanted by the power of the Lord's past, left his head and was now held close to its owner's chest. Several tears ran down his cheeks.
"I'm free."
-Another chapter is finished, finally got my attention together and wrote it. This one is about 7,5k words long. Not the longest I've written for a single chapter, though those takes usually more than a single month and stress me out to no end. Also, they're complete horrors to clean up.
-Aldia. I'm a bit at odds as to how to refer to him. No doubt that Aldia, the Scholar, was a man and brother to Vendrick, but what of Aldia of the present. The Scholar now turned burning bush refers to himself using plural terms several times and it's no doubt because of the unique form. Aldia speaks together with a female voice at times, likely hinting that Aldia isn't entirely a single person. I feel as though Aldia would refer to his current self as both singular and plural terms, partly because the female isn't always there, the Scholar appears to dominate the speech of this form. But this may cause some confusion and mild frustration, so I've decided that going from now on I'll refer to Aldia in plural terms.
-Memories. Due to the strange nature of the curse, Nathanial has stopped sleeping for most of his existence and because of that he may experience vivid dreams, and memories of the past when closes his eyes. This is devised for the character to have a proper reason to break his long-standing tradition of not sleeping. These memories and dreams will be a tool for exposition that is "show and not tell" and a window to the character's deeper and hidden thoughts.
-thewolfgod99:I have both heard and thought this myself that DS2 has probably the clearest story in comparison to the rest of the series, and that shying away from what is usually expected from a From Soft game strangely has its own charm. To answer your PM, a Hollow Knight/ Dark Souls story could work, considering their stories are similar.
-Havel the Hebel: Amusing when you think about how Aldia was only ever truly shown after a DLC was released. Admittedly, I have this strange pull towards characters that have this peculiar nihilistic, but uplifting message. As for the DS3, well I have my own way of incorporating the information from that series into this story.
-D: The thing is with "old English" it's really only used by a couple of characters, primarily the older ones, from a more ancient time. You may think Priscilla, Gwyndolin, and the likes as the most obvious examples. Most of the characters don't use such archaic terms, most of the time only when citing something like the Prophesy in DS1, but there is sometimes a sense of grandness in their speech. As for the combat, I don't intend to make combat gameplay-based, that's just not how it would go with the undead who can possess the physical strength of giants or the supposed swiftness of Ornstein. It's also because combat in MGQ is much different...turn-based, involving sexual 'attacks' to weaken a foe's strength to fight and cause them to experience a so-called "Critical Ecstasy".
-S.A.F.T.I: The Bearer of the Curse and Ashen One are different people, canonically even. Their very first difference stems from their origin and traits. The Ashen One is a type of undead that is failed sacrifice to a dying flame, while the Bearer of Curse either successfully links the flame or leaves to do their own thing. Also, the Ashen One can't Hollow as a basis of their existence, except for circumstances that involve external influence, like Dark Sigils, and the immunity that Bearer of the Curse has is completely optional through the use of a crown you can get. One is a manifestation of flame, while the other is just an undead. There is a distinction, see Ahri, Horace and the entire Sable Chruch can Hollow, while you can't under normal circumstances.
As for MGQ...if you're familiar with Monster Girl Encyclopedia, it's kind of like that, but worse and better at the same time, living standards-wise, though it ultimately depends on perspective. In MGQ you won't get brainwashed unless that's a person's exact intention, which to be honest is like every other high-fantasy setting. However, the trouble comes from the fact the monster girls are less interested in a husband and pleasing a man than having a meal, which sometimes involves eating a person or turning them into a sex slave. Emphasis on the slave part, they won't care about their prey's wellbeing. Rarely do Monsters except for some species take husbands. Humanity and Monsterkind are in a prey/predator relationship. If you're wondering why this is...this game was written by Femdom enthusiasts, but despite it being a hentai game it has a surprising amount of story in it.
Despite all of that, this story isn't all going to be edge.
-Guest: Depends on a lot of things. Who he meets, what situation he is in, and what sympathies does he hold for the humans living there could change a lot. He could go anywhere from settling down and working in some isolated region, establishing a safe zone, or at its most extreme, start marching toward the Demon Realm capital to take the throne as a Monarch should.
I don't intend my story to be an ordinary Dark Souls crossover story, where the main character is a wandering murder hobo (Hyperbole, I know. But if you play DnD or have heard stories, you know what I'm describing.). This character has aged past that upon that seeing his world slowly crumble, he is tired of killing and fighting, to him it's pointless. Such exhaustion is almost set in stone, even going to another world won't shake that too much. Though there will be despicable people he will have no qualms with killing.
