Boletaria- A Land Long Since Passed

A young woman laid motionless on the floor of a castle tower. She had been trapped in this damnable room for days, it could have been longer but she did not care. For the first few hours of her incarceration she had tried to remove the bindings on her legs only to find that the more she moved the tighter they gripped. What made matters worse, when she first touched them, hundreds of tiny barbs grew from the cursed wire, and only dug deeper as she struggled. Eventually she simply retreated into a corner and wept. At one point she began to entertain delusions of rescue. When she was a girl, her mother often told stories of a knight in shining armor coming to save the fair maiden from the treacherous villain. The only problem was she was not a princess, nor some innocent damsel. She was a witch, an enchantress proficient in dark magic, and there wasn't a knight alive who would risk his skin for the likes of her.

The sorceress flinched when she heard the deep, throaty laugh of her captor, a vile man who sold his soul to a demon for power. That disgusting creature was undoubtedly returning to run his hands where they are not wanted… again. She wanted to run, to hide, to do anything besides sit there and cry.

But she couldn't…

The door opened, the woman closed her eyes and did what she had never tried before… she prayed… to anyone who would care enough to listen to her silent pleas.

She waited for what felt like an eternity before she dared to look up at the brute. Except he was not there, in his place stood a tall, dark haired man carrying a Claymore on his back. The man doffed his weapon, placing it and his shield on the floor, before kneeling next to her. She didn't believe her eyes, she willed her mouth to speak but words would not form. She slowly reached out with one hand, thinking if she moved too quickly the figure would vanish. Instead he took her hand and placed it on his cheek. He was real.

"I'm Rourke," he said quietly.

"Yuria…" she mustered. The young witch looked into his eyes, wanting nothing more than to trust this mysterious man to take her away from this hellish place.

"I'm here to help you," he reached for the dagger on his belt.

Her eyes finally took in the details of his form. From the sight of his armor alone he looked as if he had fought a war to get here, and his face was covered in black demon blood.

"B-but I'm a witch, why would a knight save me?"

He sliced the bindings, and removed them from her body, careful not to let his fingers touch her skin.

"I'm a Paladin," he smiled. She turned her head slightly to the side and raised one eyebrow.

"I- don't…" she trailed off, not knowing how to respond.

"I am a soldier of God and, like God, I do not believe in coincidence" he looked down at the torn flesh of her legs and frowned. The woman remained silent.

"Which means no matter how arbituary my arrival may seem I found you here for a reason, and now your safety is my priority," he continued.

He replaced the dagger and produced his talisman. The holy man whispered a short prayer, then hovered his hand just above the wounds. A warmth unlike anything she had felt in a long time washed over Yuria's body and when she looked down the blood was gone and her wounds were half their original size. Rourke let out a shaky chuckle.

"I wish I could do more now, but healing isn't my specialty" he said, "Come here, we're going to have to get you to the Nexus"

"The Nexus?" she asked as she laced her arms around his neck. He stood straight and gently cradled the woman in his arms.

"Yes, it's difficult to explain but in short it's my home, you'll be safe there" he grinned.

The sorceress couldn't believe this was happening, it all felt so surreal. A paladin came to her rescue. He smelled of sweat, and steel. He was covered in scars and drenched in blood. But at that moment he was perfect, the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And his armor didn't even have to shine for her to know it.

Lost Bastille

Rourke woke with a start, the woman resting on his lap opened her eyes and looked up at him. She watched as he scanned the area, his hand only a few inches from his dagger. After a few moments he eased back into a comfortable position.

"Did you hear something?" Lucatiel asked as she sat up.

"No… I guess not" he replied.

He let out a sigh, and mumbled something about more sleep. The knightess simply chuckled to herself.

"Is the great and powerful Conner Rourke scared of bad dreams?" she teased. He shot her a dirty look, but softened quickly.

"When you've been around as long as I have, you have plenty good reason to be" he beamed.

The swordswoman looked away from her companion, her expression growing somber. She reached into the flames of the bonfire and removed a few items. The paladin on the other hand stood and walked over to the exit of the bonfire's room.

"I'm sorry," his ear twitched at the words. He turned to look back at their source who still refused to make eye contact with him.

"For what?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby wall.

"Prying about your past, I hope I haven't been too terribly intrusive,"

"Don't worry, I understand, and I will tell you in time, though from what I hear the Emerald Herald has already said a great deal," he replied while gathering his weapon and some supplies.

"Well I- I mean– she only told me about… some…things" she babbled, visibly flustered.

"Uh-huh, well I'm going to scout ahead to see if there's anything interesting." He handed his friend a crossbow and a pouch full of bolts, then left the safe area.

Rourke returned some hours later, with a disappointed air about him. Lucatiel however had been productive with her time and prepared a meal. The knightess had roasted some meat over the bonfire's flame. The paladin sat beside his companion then laid his head in her lap.

"M'lady, your champion has returned, feed him" he joked with a quick clap of his hands. The paladin opened his mouth and closed his eyes as if he was expecting to be fed. He waited a few seconds before peeking at his companion. He was met with a glare that was… unpleasant to say the least. The swordswoman quickly softened, and took some of the meat off of the spit and held it above him.

"Would you like a taste?" she taunted.

"Of course" he craned his neck up to reach the morsel, but didn't get any closer. Lucatiel lifted the bite away from his lips as he tried for it, and placed it her own mouth.

"How unfortunate," she laughed. The knight sat up and smiled, mumbling about how his friend was cruel.

"So what have we to eat tonight?" he said slicing a little of the meat from the bone.

"Dog" she replied with a smile.

"Well I must say," he said sitting beside her, "I've eaten many strange things, but dog has yet to be one of them, I suppose this was harvested from those fiendish mutts that prowl around this area"

"Yes it was, what strange things have you eaten?"

"Once, when I served in the Legion, my captain demanded our opponents dismount their horses and walk back to their king in shame"

"You ate horses?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes we did, there had been no food for our army for almost a week, and we were starving"

"How was it?"

"Awful" he laughed. "I must say Lucatiel you are quite the cook, where did you learn?"

"My time in the army, food rations usually consisted of stale bread and the occasional fruit, so we made due with what had and what we could hunt,"

The two sat in silence the only noise to be heard came from the rhythmic hammering of the blacksmith MacDuff nearby. Rourke simply waded through his thoughts, waiting for something to say or be said. Lucatiel looked around the area and tried to distract herself. She hated feeling helpless and with this wound in her side still some time from being completely healed. The knightess placed her hand on the bandages that were fastened against the stitches. Her companion spoke up, bringing her back to the present.

"Lucatiel," he said, his voice deathly serious. "What happened to your eye?"

The swordswoman raised her hand and covered her left eye, which she had wrapped in cloth while the paladin was away. She had hoped he would not notice, but it seems he had.

"Oh, nothing," she responded uneasily, unable to come up with an excuse.

The paladin's unimpressed face showed her he did not like the answer. He crawled closer to her and reached for the patch. The Mirran pulled away, not wanting to show her friend the disgrace she hid. The pair wrestled around for a bit fighting over the piece of fabric, only to be stopped by a rather angry looking smith roaring at them to make less noise. He walked to the door of the shop to find the wounded woman on her knees straddling the paladin he had met some time before, both quarreling over something he found stupid.

"Stay…Quiet…" he breathed, "You'll scare the flame…"

The pair stopped and looked at the gruff looking man, "Sorry…?" they responded in unison as he walked back into the stone building. Using the distraction of the smith the knight grabbed the cloth and pulled it from her face, revealing what she had not wanted her friend to see… A murky blue orb surrounded by darkened flesh.

"Damn it, Rourke!" she said as loud as she dared, slamming a fist against his chest.

The paladin cursed himself for not noticing earlier, his friend was hollowing and he had not paid enough attention to help. He rested his head back against the ground, and let his arms fall limp. The Mirran covered the left side of her face, glaring down at her companion. The knight reached for a pocket on his belt, retrieving a small figure which seemed to be crafted from roots woven together. He handed the item to his friend, who stared at it with curiosity.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"They never told you?" he asked rubbing his temples.

"I've seen something like this before," she answered, "But no one has told me what it is"

"Crush it, and hold the ashes against your eye," he commanded.

Lucatiel nodded and did as she was instructed. When she squeezed the tiny thing in her palm it burst into a black flame. At first, she was shocked, not understanding what had happened. She glanced down at the paladin who simply nodded and nudged her hand toward her face. The knightess inhaled deeply and pressed the black sprite against her afflicted eye. A feeling of warmth rushed over her body, from the tips of her fingers to the bottoms of her feet, even her hair felt like it was touched this strange magic. She did not move for a few moments, but it wasn't long until she noticed her vision had been restored.

"It's called a Human Effigy," her friend broke the silence, "It is used to restore an undead to human form"

"H-how long does it last?"

"Until you die…" he produced a mirror from his person and handed it to her.

The swordswoman looked at her features, the color in her skin had returned and the darkened flesh had been healed. A tear slid down her face. She couldn't believe it, she had been convinced hollowing was irreversible. She remembered everything, her parents, her brother, her service, almost every memory that had faded made its way back into her mind. The paladin rose to his elbows and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Lucatiel throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him.

"Thank you…" she whimpered "There is still so much of the damned curse I do not know."

"You're welcome" he responded, placing a hand on the small of her back, returning the hug.

Rourke waited for his companion to calm down, which only took a minute or two, before he reminded her of the position they were in. The Mirran immediately sprang to her feet and tried to explain or apologize, her face a deep red. The holy knight simply stood and flashed a grin.

"Check your side," he laughed, trying to draw attention away from his own flushed cheeks.

The knightess looked down and undid the wrappings while her friend searched for a shirt she could wear. To her surprise the wound had healed and if the stitches were removed no one would have been able to tell she had been harmed at all. With a cut, a tug, and a sip of Estus Lucatiel was back to peak combat condition. She removed the bandages completely and donned the shirt the paladin allowed her to borrow as hers was still in a severe state of disrepair. She gathered her equipment, and put on her hat.

"So, what's next?" she asked, eager to get back into action.

"What's next?" he echoed, and wrapped his arm on her shoulders. He led his companion out of the bonfire's hiding place and pointed to a tower in the distance. "Our greatest challenge to conquer yet."

"And conquer it we shall" she grinned.

Sinner's Rise

The pair of warriors crept toward the bridge that led to their target. The paladin stopped and sighed.

"I truly loathe water," he groaned to himself as he gazed into the depths. He stepped lightly out onto the stone pathway as if to test its ability to hold him.

When he was somewhat sure of its stability the knight gingerly slid his feet forward, not wanting to take them off of the ground. Lucatiel followed her companion casually, not sharing in his distaste for the lake. She crossed her arms, and smiled beneath her mask.

"Not a strong swimmer, Connor?" she asked leaning in closer to him.

"We all have our faults, my dear," he responded, never taking his eyes off of the stone beneath him.

"Would you like me to teach you?" she teased, trying to stifle a giggle.

"There will be time for flirting later, but for now- please… This is not easy for me…"

The knightess fell silent but did not lose her smile. 'Flirting, hm?' she thought. When the companions reached the end of the bridge, the paladin released his held breath. He examined their surroundings, a large door with a staircase on either side. Lucatiel stood beside her friend, and removed her mask.

"Well, I see no reason to stall any longer, shall we?" Rourke said placing his hands on the large door.

"Wait a moment," the Mirran commanded, "what about these side paths?"

"What about them?"

"Let's see what secrets they hide" she proposed, "by the looks of that door, our foe does not seem to be leaving anytime soon."

The pair approached one of the metal doors. From what they could see there was not much to be found inside. Rourke kneeled beside the lock and studied it. The mechanism seemed simple, but solid and unfortunately he did not have the key. The paladin turned to his companion and opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a short grunt as his friend kicked out toward the door. The door swung open, the lock broken into pieces.

"How did you…" he trailed off.

"Iron degrades rather quickly in these conditions" she said, taking a few steps inside.

"Anything of interest?"

The knightess looked around for a moment in the dark, searching for something to use. The holy knight followed her in, and lit a torch to brighten up the room. The swordswoman's attention focused on a small bowl connected to a hole in the wall. She placed her hand into it, to see what it contained. A thick black soup stuck to her fingertips. She took a whiff and massaged the strange fluid into her leather gloves. 'Oil?' she thought. She reached back to her companion and asked for the torch. She placed the flame into the bowl and watched as her theory proved correct. The dark liquid quickly set ablaze, and fire rush into the hole out of sight.

"Well then," the paladin exclaimed, "I suppose we should check the other room as well"

The Mirran only smiled, replacing her mask. The second room proved to contain the same contents as the first, so after repeating their actions another trail of light flowed into the wall before them. Unsure of anything else to do the two made their way to the large center door. They both took a deep breath, trying to prepare themselves for the foe that awaited them.

The door creaked shut, and a heavy silence fell over the arena. A tall lanky figure turned to face them from the other side of the massive room. It reached for a menacing sword, and gripped it tightly in its shackled hands. The creature roared with a mix of pain and rage as it slashed the air, causing the chandelier above to be extinguished. The room would have been pitch black if not for the two lanterns Lucatiel had unknowingly lit from the adjacent rooms. The prisoner dashed toward the pair, slicing at them with all its might. The two undead dodged just in time, barely escaping the cursed blade. Rourke lunged at the enemy, missing by only a few inches as it leapt back from his holy Claymore. The knightess slashed at the creature, hitting it in the side. It staggered for only a second before unleashing an unrelenting barrage on the Mirran, who blocked and dodged as quickly as her body would allow.

The paladin dove into the fray once more, attempting to cut the monster across the back and arm. He came to the unfortunate conclusion that he would be unable to damage this foe, he was not fast enough to harm it; it was far too agile. He stopped only for a moment, placing a silver ring, with a red ruby that resembled an eye, on his finger. With its dark magic in effect it would be easier to draw the beast's attention away from Lucatiel. The knight shouted, and rapped his sword and shield together. His plan played out better than he had hoped as their adversary trained its focus on him, allowing the swordswoman to attack from all directions. She landed a steady stream of blows to the prisoner, none of which were particularly crippling but were effective nonetheless.

The method worked quite well until the creature turned on its heel and clashed swords with the Mirran. The sheer force behind the attack shattered Lucatiel's blade before she had the chance to raise her shield. The knightess was thrown onto her back, and in an instant the beast was on her. She rolled this way and that, trying to stay ahead of what she knew would be a killing blow should one land. It raised its sword high above its head, only to be stopped by a bolt of lightning. The creature howled, and turned to see its attacker. Rourke, who had thrown down his shield to grab his talisman, stood there defenseless.

Lucatiel watched on horror as their foe charged the paladin, who had attempted to dive out of the way. Time slowed for the swordswoman, the monster's cursed blade sliced clean through the holy knight's right arm and leg, parting both limbs from his body. He fell to the ground, and released a cry of agony as blood sprayed from his mutilated knee and elbow.

But the beast did not stop there, it stabbed its unholy weapon into its victim's chest and proceeded to beat the man with its bare fists. The Mirran's eyes widened, and her body flinched. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run away, to escape, but her heart held her in place. She knew she had to help Rourke. She scanned the battlefield, searching for something of use. Her greatsword was broken, and her companion's claymore was nowhere to be found. Her gaze soon locked onto what was by all accounts a miracle in disguise. Tucked inside the boot of the paladin's severed leg… was his dagger.

The knightess made a mad dash for the tiny blade, and drew it from its place. The murderous creature, who continued to hammer down on the knight, did not notice. Lucatiel sprinted for her target with inhuman speed. She pushed off the floor and flew into the air. An animalistic roar erupted from her throat. She reared back, took aim, and with all her strength she buried the weapon hilt deep into the back of her enemy's skull.

The dead beast fell to its knees then faded into a cloud of ash. The Mirran threw her mask off and rushed to her motionless friend, unsure of what she would do when she reached him. She dropped to her knees, and stared at the holy man as she carefully removed his helmet. His breathing was slow, labored, and when he exhaled blood flowed past his lips. Her chest shook and a chill ran up her spine as a thought entered her mind.

'What if he doesn't return to life? Or worse… he comes back a Hollow?'

She tried to banish such an idea as she rested her companion's head on her lap and took hold of his remaining hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably. She squeezed his fingers, still not sure of what else to do.

He placed her hand on his chest and reached up to her, brushing some hair from her face, trying to place it behind her ear. He showed a weak, bloodstained smile and opened his mouth in an attempt to speak.

The light faded from his eyes and his hand fell limp…

Sorry to say this isn't a legitimate update, I'm still swamped by college stuffs... I am working on the next chapter I promise and I'll try to have it out soon.

I appreciate your patience with me, I know this is irritating.

Thanks again, Josh