"Are you insane?" The last word was dragged out a little longer for emphasis. Lea stood with her arms crossing her chest, a look of absolute incredulousness on her face. The petite woman meekly glanced up at her confused, the dried tracks of tears stained on her rosy cheeks. Lea rolled her eyes, stepping outside of the dilapidated cottage into the howling wind.
She was tired. Tired of the lunatics and freaks that paraded itself around this entire land mass. She glanced up at the castle above her.
Great, just fucking great.
The images of various body parts glued together assaulted her mind, and she shook her head, grabbing at the thick cloak which fluttered violently behind her. The broken girl in the shack actually wanted to be sliced into pieces and grafted to some psychopath. Oh sure, she had chickened out, but the desire was still there.
She followed a beaten pathway to the east, her sights aimed for the thick forest in the distance. She had traveled with Rogier up to this point, but neither felt the necessity to constantly be in the other's presence; in fact, she grew weary of his preoccupation in stopping to converse with every loon along the way. She appreciated his kindness, though, grateful for the better fitting leathers she now wore. However, his unspoken obsession raised more than a few red flags. She had an inclination at what he sought and wanted no part; fucking around with dead things wasn't one of her hobbies.
Although, he is extremely charming.
She was becoming a bit too fond of him. He was rather personal, always placing a hand on her back to gently guide her in a new direction, that musky scent of rowa berries that so accurately was just him. He had even insisted teaching her sorceries, something she adamantly refused against having any shred of competency in. He'd stand behind her, the light of their campfire caressing his attractive facial features, leaning in over her shoulder while she held his gem-incrusted staff out. He'd place his hands on her shoulders as he'd whisper instructions in her ears.
"Focus..." and he'd mutter something about shiny stones. All she could focus on was his hot breath and smell. She'd suddenly become aware of the silence and would turn her head slightly to look at his face, catching beautiful blue eyes staring at her. Then she would notice his brow ridge raised in a questioning look, in which she would clear her throat, and go back to holding a dead piece of wood in front of her, expecting magic to suddenly spew out of it.
She wasn't getting much sleep.
Additionally, she was in no hurry to burst through the gates of Stormveil. The "grafted spider" was an undesirable foe, for a plethora of reasons. The land of the Gods beheld some of the worst atrocities ever done to men, many of which weren't always hidden from plain sight. Besides, the road was littered with emaciated soldiers who attacked on sight. The sociopathic, self-proclaimed god king of the castle could have his little shitty fortress, for all she cared.
The bridge the large arches supported was mostly decayed; whatever lied to the northeast disappeared into the tree line, and by what she could account for, no longer accessible. To her north was a large chunk of stone ruin, pieces of which she had stumbled across throughout her travels. Rogier had once mentioned an old sky temple, but it sounded more like a fictitious legend. Still, whatever the structure used to be, it was ancient and existed long before the more modern-day ruins of old churches and catacombs.
The smell of rotting carcasses assaulted her nostrils. She stepped over one of the large wolves she had gutted hours prior. A swarm of flies buzzed around the decaying organs, and she swatted a few of the larger ones away from her. Close by was another dead wolf, this one was belly up with a large blue shard sticking out of its chest. There appeared to be a large colony of the animals, despite the constant barrage of adverse weather effects.
The smell dissipated, and she felt the tall grass brush against her knees as she continued forward, the pathway in disarray. She stumbled across a broken wagon with a few decayed corpses spread apart. She knelt down near the closest one, lifting some of the tattered rags to see if there was anything of value still there.
The sound of tumbling rocks broke her focus, and she looked up to see a huge figure sprinting towards her. The short, fur cloak gave away its origins, and she rolled to the side, letting the brute crash into the wagon, sending splinters of wood shooting outwards. Lea gripped her shotel, pushing off the ground and letting her weight help the blade hook into an exposed area of their back as her body made contact with the solid wall of flesh in front of her. A deep roar sounded, and she felt the impact of something massive hit her chest followed by the surreal sense of flying through the air before she collided with the ground. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she frantically gasped in an attempt to regain her breath, her chest throbbing in pain.
Muffled groans and angry cries were quickly drowned out in the gusty wind as the Kaiden sellsword keeled over, landing on his side. Her shotel was hooked around his spine, and every jerk he made sliced through more of the nerve bundles until he lost feeling in his legs. A pool of blood formed, and he whimpered, eventually passing out in shock.
It took Lea a while to get herself together. Her ribs were bruised. Luckily, the sellsword had hit her with the flat edge of his massive sword when he attempted to knock her off his back. A simple turn of the wrist and she would have been split in two. She coughed, slowly pulling herself up and stumbled back on the ground, her head pounding. She crawled on her hands and knees to the fresh corpse, grasping the hilt of her weapon and crying out as she pulled as hard as she could, attempting to free it from the Kaiden. Blackness took over, and she tumbled backwards into a limp heap on the ground.
He watched the cloaked figured approach, the shadows of the fire dancing across the thick branches that hung low above the wooden shanty. He stood, cautiously, his greatsword perched on its edge, the hilt resting in his palms. A few strands of loose hair framed the sharp angles of his warrior's features, adding to the unkemptness of his unshaven face. His breastplate was heavily decorated with pictures of ferocious lions, glistening off the orange light of the fire. Normally, he would be suffering from heat exhaustion, but the constant wind kept things cool enough to sport full armor.
A body was unceremoniously dumped in front of the gleaming shard of the Order, a mere 20 paces from the shack. He watched the effects he knew so well, golden wisps, almost strings, wrap themselves around the body, glowing every bit brighter. The cloaked figure walked towards him. Bernahl quickly scanned for any weapon, seeing a large claymore latched to their back.
"Do you have any wares for sale?" A deep, gruff voice sounded from under the black cloak. Bernahl thought he caught the bright color of fire-orange eyes from underneath, but shook his head, attributing it to a reflection of the fire light.
"Wares, no. However, I offer something even more valuable; training in the art of war."
Silence fell over the two. Eventually, the cloaked figure made a very subtle shaking motion with his head. Bernahl, once again, thought he heard a low growl, but couldn't be sure due to the constant roaring of the wind. The figure turned, heading back to the golden shard that the body still resided at. He could make out the features of a female, still in the same position she had been dumped in. The strange man sat next to her, reaching out to grasp the shard. Gold particles flew outwards like a fountain, mostly covering the two nearest to it. Bernahl felt some of the residual fall on his head and shoulders, quickly sinking inwards; he was Tarnished, after all.
Lea flopped over, letting a relaxing sigh release from her lips. She felt warm and it was nice. She imagined she was back home again, laying on the dock of her sleepy, seaside town. The setting sun, giving off the warm, orange glow that made her feel at peace. The constant roar of the waves, hitting the shore below her.
Wait, roar?
She yelped, pushing her torso off the floor. Her eyes blinked as she beheld stained, dirty wood plants beneath her. A lazy fire crackled to her left. Above her, the constant bellowing of the wind drowned out most other noises. Something bright flashed in her peripheral view, and she glanced up to see a fully armored man, casually leaning against a wall. He stared at her; his eyebrows raised in question.
"Welcome to the waking world, fellow Tarnished." He gave her a slight nod.
Rotten hells, this guy is gorgeous.
She gave him a meek smile before coming to her senses. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. It was a small wooden cottage, of sorts, similar to the one she recently came from…
She grabbed at her chest, applying pressure and noticing that the pain was gone. Rolling back on her bottom, she used the inertia to propel herself upwards on her feet. She stumbled, feeling something grip her shoulder firmly. She glanced up at the man, taking in his features before patting his hand with hers.
"I'm good, just a little rocky start, that's all." He dropped his hand, returning back to his leaning position. She raised an eyebrow, looking around. "How did I get here, anyway? I don't remember this place."
He took a good look at her. She did not possess a warrior's physique; he doubted she would be able to learn much from him. "You were dropped off."
"By whom?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "No idea, they didn't give a name." He glanced back at her. "Most don't, you know."
She reached to her left hip, noticing her shotel was gone from the latch. Damn. Her dagger was still there, tucked in the upper lip of her boots. Not that a dagger would keep her alive for very long, but it would suffice until she could make it back to Rogier.
She dusted herself off, nodding at the not-so-chatty warrior and heading past the floating shard of golden dung. The path diverged into three directions. The woods were thick and dark, she had no idea which way to go. There was a pathway in front of her that lead to a lighter area, so she decided to head in that direction.
"Pathway" was a bit lenient, it was more of an animal trail, sometimes opening into a larger walkway, still heavily covered with plant life. She cut some of the taller weeds away from her as she moved forward. Her foot hit something soft, and she looked down to see the mutilated carcass of a wolf, its insides strung about like the killer had been rooting around for something specific. She gave a disgusted look and stepped over the thing, noticing a few more dead wolves off to the side.
What the hell?
The forest finally opened into a clearing, and she saw the large support towers of the massive bridge above her. Oh… She had gone the wrong way. She turned to the left, barely making out some familiar geography from where she last saw Rogier. That's quite a distance off…
The constant discovery of dead animals made her grow more panicked; she lacked her primary weapon. Not that I'm any good at it. She realized how much she had begun to depend on her sorcerer companion. Yeah, sure, it was easy to get in the last strikes on something already hemorrhaging from a giant blue crystal sticking out of it. However, she seemed to constantly fail when it was the surprise, one-on-one, attacks.
The smell of singed fur assaulted her nostrils. She could see some steam rising off one of the dogs. How in the hell…
She approached the large opening between two of the support towers. The mostly decayed bridge still provided some shade, and she slipped around some of the rubble, peering on the other side. Before her was an open field and a large, colosseum structure at the end of the, now, defined path. A loud noise made her duck behind some large stone. She eased herself up, taking another more cautious glace at the open field. Two figures quickly danced back and forth, the loud clank of metal resonating throughout the area. She eyed some thicket, quickly dashing towards it while keep low to the ground.
The figures became clearer, and she saw the massive head of a mace swing down, nearly pummeling their opponent. The tin helmet caught some stay rays of light, as the thick cloth surrounding them intensely flapped with the sudden motion. The weapon was already off the ground, and they were readying themselves for another strike.
Their opponent, covered in a thick black cloak, raised their claymore to block the mace, flattening the blade against their left hand while the right held on tightly to the hilt. Metal shattered, and she saw the cloaked figure get knocked back a good distance. The head of the mace hit the dirt, causing its wieldier to stumble a bit.
The cloaked figure slowly pushed themselves off the ground, throwing the hilt of their broken sword to the side. She saw them reach for something from beneath, but it was dark, whatever it was. The figure began to convulse, as the fighter with the mace began their next charge towards them. They arched back, and she suddenly saw hellish flame spew from beneath the cloak, covering their opponent. The ground was aflame, as the mace-wieldier was melted alive, agonizing screams echoed across the expanse. They finally crumpled over, their burnt body and armor continuing to sizzle.
Lea slunk lower in the brush, completely convinced that she wanted nothing to do with this. She was also convinced at how stupid she was. She had no intention of becoming charred meat. Glancing around, she noticed that she was pretty much isolated to the lone shrubbery. Some additional thicket was closer to the fire-breathing demon, which followed the perimeter of the colosseum. She might be able to sneak around, avoiding detection. The cloaked figure was knelt over the remains of the burnt mace wieldier, their back to her. She took the opportunity to silently move forward, coming to the next section of thick brush.
She made decent progress, slowly weaving in and out of the bushes and weeds. A cliff was in sight, the sound of the sea pouring over the edge. Her eyes focused on the prize; she didn't notice her foot catch on some exposed roots and tumbled over falling headfirst into a large clump of thorns. The sharp points dug into the exposed skin of her face, tearing at the tie that held her frizzy hair back. She hissed, instantly pushing herself away and gripping her torn cheeks. Pulling her hands away, they were covered in blood.
The rustle of grass sounded in front of her, and she slowly looked up, taking the view of some large black boots. She raised her head, noticing the singed cloak which exposed blackened leather underneath. Large, metallic hands reached out, grabbing at some of the thorny thicket above her head. She heard the sharp intake of air, the pricks no doubt causing the fire breather discomfort. She remained motionless, mostly from terror, but also hanging onto the small shred of hope that they actually had not seen her.
The buzzing of something fast flew above her head, impaling itself into the cloaked figure. She heard a strained shout, the voice extremely deep. This was her chance! She got on her bloodied hands and knees, crawling her way through the thicket, making sure never to raise her head. The edge of the cliff appeared, and she lifted herself over it, looking down to find the nearest ledge she could place a foot.
Back where Lea had been, a new challenger entered the arena; two scimitars twirled in unison, the light blue fabric of her armor fluttering in the wind. Her small bow hung loosely behind her; a few arrows tied to the grip. She saw the flash of deep red in the cloaked man's hand, knowing fully what his first strike would be. She gripped the horn pendant on her necklace, causing a thin mist of white to shroud her body. Her body dipped, swinging both her arms to the back as she narrowed her sights on her target.