How To Git Gud, Well… Not Really

Chapter 3 – Shrooms

Sloppy seconds. At first Lance had thought that phrase was used to refer to a person's greed when at the dinner table. However, when he had used said phrase at said dinner table, he was surprised to see the members of his family choke on the food already half eaten in their mouths.

Now, decades after his family had died and he had been locked away in the Undead Asylum like some leathery atrocity – which wasn't that far from the truth – with less… formal company; he truly understood why they had reacted so violently towards him that day. In all honesty, he was more concerned for his brother after he had told him to 'have his sloppy seconds after he was done with their sister'. He had only meant that he should have seconds of the beef stew that night after little Miranda had been put to bed. Honestly, that stew had been rather sloppy as well…

Although, it wasn't the event that had made the Chosen Undead think of such a mentally scarring memory, but rather the word itself. For if sloppy seconds were to mean what the foul-mouthed female butcher in Blighttown had said it really meant, then he was by all means feeling like someone's sloppy seconds.

The reason? Why, he had more than one. In fact, he possessed a digest as detailed as the red scales on that Hellkite Drakes tail as to why. The summary of it? Simple enough. It was that he had thoroughly screwed his life up worse than a member of the Darkwraith Covenant when he had decided to be noble and agree to that idiot's idea of carrying on his will as the 'Chosen Undead'.

At first, the fool had had the gall to open the hatch on the roof of his cell which had blinded him to the point where he had accidentally head-butted the wall, throw a carcass into his cell that had spilled congealed blood and puss onto his clothing – as ragged and torn as they were – and then, as if to add to his terrible first impression; the Astorian knight – for which dolt wouldn't recognise the armour of a bygone kingdom – had told him to use the key on the corpse and escape the Asylum.

Now, Lance was by no means lazy. If his deceased parents had prided themselves on anything during their thirty years of raising three children less than two years apart, it was that they had instilled a sense of virtue and drive into their offspring. One could say that by him choosing to stay in the cell, he was exercising idleness when he had a way out. However, that one would have been denser than a hollowed harlot after a bout of mindless romping with a band of Izalith Demons followed by decapitation, mutilation and just terrible necrophilia. He said this because if you were to define righteousness and valour properly – which he had – you would come to know that just because there is a way out doesn't necessarily mean that you should take it. He had proved this point after he had reluctantly exited his chamber only to find the very same knight resting against a broken stone wall with his rips sticking out of his armour like makeshift horns.

For all the cautiousness and intellect he possessed, why the Lloyd had he not listened to that deranged fellow by the name of Pagan Min offering to bury the ashes of his long-deceased mother? If he were to be true to himself, he pondered on why he had not asked the strange fellow how he had come to land up in the Asylum when he was positively still human, and why he wanted to bury the ashes of his mother when she had not been cremated forty- maybe fifty years ago. How had he even acquired his mother's ashes in the first place? Was this fellow some kind of stalker?!

But instead, he had chosen to ignore the most likely insane fool and accept the fallen Astorian's request to 'continue his legacy' or something like that. Honestly, did that nameless dimwit think he was some fictional soldier from a fantasy world named Cloud or something? Anyway, that was enough about his genesis, he was busy talking about how he felt like sloppy seconds, yes?

Lance sighed out heavily and kicked a nearby pebble in the shadowy cover that Darkroot's trees provided. Things had certainly not been easy from the moment he had left that cell. He scoffed as he went through the series of events for the four-hundredth time.

As if having to kill a Demon with a club the size of a pillar in some grand hall hadn't been the worst of his problems, there had been the uncomfortable arrival to the Land of Ancient Lords via humungous crow. From there, things had just spiralled downwards one agonising day after another.

In the space of the six months he had been the Chosen Undead on Lordran, he recalled being stabbed, clubbed, strangled, pin-cushioned by walking skeletons, sniped in the head by a tipsy hollow with half his cranium hanging out, squashed by a bull demon with feet that felt like gnarled tree roots, backstabbed by a thief, eaten alive by a dog, and he could never forget the manner in which his body had been turned into a black statue by some big-eyed and jittery lizard before disintegrating to dust and reanimating with a bloody curse attached to his soul.

In his time here he had been tortured, clouted, castrated and then finally drowned. Truth be told with all that still fresh in his mind it was a miracle he was still sane.

Or perhaps it was just his brain's way of making him suffer more by forcing him to remember all the terrifying deaths already incurred. Either way, the least being undead could do to help his screwed future was numb the bloody pain when he skinned his goddamn knees. That's right, he had said it with a straight face, he hated to feel pain. It didn't matter what the other undead thought or if his father would be cussing at him from his grave and calling him a sissy, the truth of the matter was his body was just too freaking sensitive to pain nowadays.

Being undead seemed to heighten all of his senses. Whilst that was kinda nice when he was in battle, it was not pleasant when he was getting some sadistic bastards pike shoved up his rear when he wasn't looking. It even bloody hurt when he was rolling on the floor. It was as if he had acquired the sensitivity of a pregnant maiden while it was that time of the month for her – absolutely excruciating.

That was why he had come to Darkroot Wood.

Yes, there were still Ent's out here that could kill him and use the nutrients from his body to make them grow bigger, which was terrifying. And there were still certain undead beyond Artorias' door that still tried to kill him even though he was with the same covenant with Alvina as they were but at least it was peaceful here.

And he meant it. There were no obnoxious people that haggled him for extra souls and humanity, or beings that stank like rotten fish and guts asking that he 'rush forward and acquire the souls of Lord Gwyn's comrades'. Seriously, Frampt was getting on his last nerve after he had – for once – kindly asked the snake to help him divide his Titanite chunk into smaller pieces. As if swallowing him wasn't enough, the bastard had to use his big ass TEETH to break apart his vital source of reinforcement. Now that rancid stench followed him everywhere because he had been forced to use them to strengthen his swords and shields. Bloody primordial serpents.

Alas, the tension from his day that left him weary and flaccid in his movements was eased away as the sound of rushing water and the soft wind through the broad trees allowed him to slowly uncoil. Whilst Alvina told him that slacking off on his job was not an acceptable thing to do, he had waved away her warnings with a rude sneer and the flick of his hand. Who was she to tell him not to be lazy when she spent her days sitting in a dilapidated watchtower sleeping the day away? And she wondered why she was getting fat.

Lance rolled his shoulders as he stood from the fallen tree trunk he was sitting on. This part of the woods was surprisingly less hostile – and by less he meant not hostile at all. Honestly, the only foes he had found where a trio of gargantuan cats mewling about, and they had only tried to attack him when he had neared their nest or whatever a trio of cats live in.

The area was so safe that he had actually sheathed his sword and left his shield with Andre to warp back into shape. Aside from the cats, the only other thing he had really found was a chest that had held an Enchanted Ember he had gifted to his buddy Rickert – since Andre surprisingly didn't want it.

He smiled as he walked past a small shrub. Even the evil Ent's that usually buried themselves under the soil in disguise weren't here, no other life was. That was the beauty of this place, the reason he felt so at home. He had originally been raised in the Great Swamp, living near the outskirts with his family until he was old enough to travel. The peace there had been something he missed, and although Firelink had possessed a small number of people that also revelled in the silence like he did, Darkroot's darker surroundings and cool atmosphere felt more inviting in general.

That was… until he saw movement flash by in his peripheral vision. Lance spun on his heel as his brown eyes scanned through the underbrush. He wasn't being paranoid as usual; he had really seen something. He strained his hearing as he stood stationary. If this was that annoying mage wearing that presence masking ring again then he was going to blast his stupid face off and hand the charred remains to Shiva. He was sick of that nuisance ruining his time to relax.

Just then, Lance heard the pitter-patter of feet before another flash went by his left side. He turned and lowered into a crouch, body tense. He waited for a spell to be hurled his way or some sort of projectile but nothing came. With a huff he straightened and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. Whatever it was that was out there was either toying with him or just another beast like the cats he saw from before.

In either case, it was wiser for him to move away from his current position. The last thing he needed was to intercept a beast that was hostile when its territory was intruded upon. But as Lance turned on his heel yet again, he was stopped by the most peculiar thing he had ever seen – and when he said that this was the most peculiar thing, he meant it with all certainty.

It was a short little thing, no taller than his waist and no larger than the stump of a tree. Its body was a pale white with small but thick arms and legs. Now, what was peculiar wasn't the colour or body. What was peculiar was the fact that it was fungi.

A mushroom to be precise. One that seemed not to be hostile from the fact that all the little thing did was stare up at him with the grooves in its 'face' that served as eyes of some sort. Lance and the little mushroom stared at one another for some time in silence before the thing decided to take a small step closer.

The act made him smile gently. He had a new reason to like this part of Darkwood. Who would have thought Lordran possessed creatures that wouldn't try to crush you to paste upon sight? Besides that, this one was actually quite cute compared to everything that he had seen. He chuckled as the little mushroom took another brave step forward and raised its tiny arm to offer him a wave in greeting. This thing was nearly as cute as the Fair Lady when she became occasionally clumsy.

Deciding to entertain both his new friend and his own curiosity, Lance lowered himself to a crouch and spoke to the inhabitant.

"You don't look so tough, do you little guy?"

The mushroom raised his other and twirled around on his stubby legs. The sight was amusing as well as entertaining. He enjoyed silly occurrences like this one, there weren't enough of them in his day if he were honest.

However, as the good saying always went, everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That was Lance's thought as he felt a shadow cover the two of them. He frowned at the thought that something like that could happen when they were basically already covered in shadows and looked up. That was a mistake on his part, because as he did, he saw a sight that made his breath catch in his throat.

Standing behind the small fungi stood another mushroom so large he feared even Havel's great shield would look small, and its size was double his own. On its body was what looked like maroon clay smeared around its hands stomach and legs, but for the life of him he swore it looked familiar. It stared back at him silently through the same grooves for eyes, a look that looked as menacing as he envisioned it.

Lance paled as the bigger mushroom that was more or less the small one's parent cocked back a fist almost in slow motion, and instantly he realized what that dried up clay really was, as well as why there was so much of it on the giant veggie. His throat went dry as the thing took a heavy step forward, fist lined up to meet his face.

"Oh fu-"

He didn't get to finish that sentence as the fist connected faster than expected, and his upper body was blasted apart into a mix of broken bone, limbs and blood that hit the soil with a splash. The mushroom parent stared blankly at the still crouching legs of Lance before turning around and walking off, more blood coating its pale and fleshy body like war paint as its little one prodded a dismembered arm and scampered off.

Needless to say, that was the last time Lance came back to relax in Darkroot Garden's 'docile' area.

I had a lot of fun writing this one up. The mushroom parent meme has been in my gallery for a while now and I always thought of making some sort of story from it but never did.

As for the Pagan Min thing, I read up in an IGN blog that if you wait in your cell for 15 minutes after the game begins then Pagan Min comes to help you bury your mother's ashes. Unfortunately, I don't have my console on me to test that 'unknown fact' out but I assumed it would add to the humour so there you go. That being said, some of you might want to try it out to see if its true. If you do decide to test it out, please let me know in the reviews so that my curiosity can be satisfied, I'm going mad not being able to test out all the new things I find on the wiki and reddit pages since I can't play Dark Souls right now.

The Frampt thing was from a post I read on Reddit. The question was how he converts the chunk to smaller shards and the dude that answered offered this hilarious reply that had me laughing in the middle of the street like some maniac. Seriously, people started to give me more than 2 meters of space that it started to feel weird. Then again, maybe that was because my T-shirt was falling off my right shoulder? Bloody baggy clothing.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one. Take care.