And now for another chapter of this snap-fic…

The ocean was beautiful. No matter how long Aura looked at it, she couldn't get past how the sea, going on further than she could even imagine, seemed the shine brightly under the moonlight, the rays dancing over the surface in speckled sheets as the waves crashed on the shoreline, sending up a low roar all the time, mist crawling up the face of the cliffs.

She could see nearly the entire bastille from here, up high on the outer wall, which kept the immense fortress, once the capital of some kingdom named "Alken", defended from the wilderness and invading ships on the great island nation, just off the coast from Drangleic. It was ancient, and incredibly sturdy, even after all this time, the pale, slightly mossy walls so far off the ground the undead walking below seemed like ants.

She heard this was once a prison for the undead, that they were forced here, tortured, and eventually abandoned, when the lord of the bastille sailed away to new lands, its inhabitants left to rot, lorded over by several divisions of soldiers and multiple inhuman abominations.

Bridgette told her they had laid siege to the castle for nearly a month now, and were confident almost all the guards and soldiers were finally dispatched, especially now that the arch magus Straid had been released, allowing them to establish a strong foothold in the fort, turn it into a refuge for the undead and bring some life and light into the ruined castle while they searched for a being with a "Great Soul".

Aura wondered if there would ever be an end to the pain: every fight seemed to open the way to a new, bloodier fight, and according to Vance, this was one of the calmer regions in the land.

It had been only a rough week since she woke up, humiliation biting her as she realized just how helpless she was very quickly. Straid sensed magic within her, and was slowly drawing it out, but she was utterly useless at melee combat.

Beyond that, cooking, cleaning, teamwork, scouting, tracking, everything an undead would need to keep themselves alive in this world, which she was told was overwhelmingly dangerous even in the most civilized places, she was oblivious to. The other undead, save for Bridgette and Charlotte, and Straid, a fellow, albeit snobbish, human, seemed to sense this weakness in her, giving her unwelcome, hostile looks from the corners of their eye.

She clutched her chest, now properly clothed in some thick wool robes to ward of the frigid air, brought on by the late autumn, which seemed to bring with it endless night and cold. As Vance explained, skilled blacksmiths who could equip her with proper armor were rare, and she didn't need it until she begun to engage in combat anyway.

She had lost her Darksign. From what she heard, it was a terrible curse that induced painful death, yet, without it, she was very dead to the undead. They were openly, deeply venomous and hostile though she couldn't understand why, and she knew that they viewed her humanity as a weakness. Transcending hollowing was their dream, but to be human, thus have only one life to live, in a world where death so common…

Aura felt tears start to flow as she stood over the banister to the ancient fortress. Maybe it was a mistake to come back.

She was an undead turned human, a vessel of life made to be harvested by her true self, probably out there, somewhere. She should not be alive, and all her presence seemed to do was burden the others, as, unlike the undead, she could no longer live off bonfires and Estus, but food and water, a few times a day everyday. She had to stay clean to avoid getting sick, stop her training to relieve herself wherever she could find. She had to sleep at least ten hours a day, as the stress on her was so great being recently returned. Even the most human undead could live off only a fraction what she did.

Sometimes, she felt so fragile she felt she could just step off this ledge or hit herself with a stone, or slit her throat, or even just stand still without eating or drinking, and she would just fall over and die, right there. Disturbingly, she felt she wanted to some evenings, and she had barely lived a life. Bridgette told her not to indulge such thoughts, and that she just needed to get established… but how could she, being newly born in this life.

"Hey." She snapped out of it, flipping around and looking to Vance, who was now striding along the wall with speed, a dulled longsword in one hand and a worn, heavily damaged shield lashed to the other, the azure metal exuding pride and authority as he angled it to her to block possible ranged attacks, refusing to use his Ultra Greatsword in a mock battle.

Aura lifted her own sword, gripping it tightly in her two hands and trying to get her feet placed right. That was his way. He never lined up on her and gave her ample time to start. He let her stand there, get relaxed, then attacked without warning, causing terror to rend her heart, yet at the same time, he assured her that it was all preparing her for when a true invader attacked.

Being able to fight at a range with magic was good, but leaning on elementary knowledge of close-range combat and counting on magic to carry you was a death sentence, so he said.

He struck hard, Aura reeling and trying not to let the sword get knocked from her hands, as it had time and time again, the undead bouncing off her guard and leaving her hands sore with effort, the undead stepping back and promptly putting his weight behind his shield, driving forward.

She tried to place her feet right, throwing her shoulder forward and feeling the metal drive into the bone as he crashed against her, driving her back. She tried her hardest to stand against him, but Vance was far more sturdy from his battles and held the strength of a Manticore in his blood, her feet skidding over the rough ground as he pressed forward, his feet barely slowing-

Aura sore under the pressure, until she remembered what he told her about fighting opponents with more strength than her, the petite fighter twisting herself around and letting him fall past her, taking the pressure off, yelping when he immediately caught his footing, twisting around and whipping his blade towards her-

She raised her guard partly, her blade getting knocked aside and nearly sending it from her hands, Vance stepping into the next step and whipping his blade back around, Aura desperately leaping back and feeling the blunted steel scrape her stomach. It would be too shallow to wound her, so the swordsmen continued forward, Aura trying to tighten her grip again as he drove her back under his relentless set of strikes, less trying to get through and more trying to break her guard, something he told her to strengthen.

Her wrists were inflamed with pain, her shoulders aching as her pressed down on her, Aura jumping back a step and letting his blade miss her, leaving him open. The young fighter brought her own blade back over her shoulder, driving down, his feet changing position-

His shield intercepted her blade, leading the blade safely to the side as he stepped in and executed the thrust he drew back, the tip digging into her hip at an off angle, Aura feeling a welt and staggering back his blade coming to the side, lining up one clean sweep to the side of the neck, his arm guiding the edge of the blunted blade with so much force it made her head go numb when he drove down, Aura grasping the side of her neck and falling back.

Vance stowed his longsword, sighing in frustration.

"You just lost your head," He bayed, as though letting herself die was a crime, "And even if you'd jumped back, there was no way to avoid that riposte, which, if my aim is right, would have gone through your heart and lung. You could possibly have retreated and healed, but anyone with a semblance of experience would make sure to keep the pressure on, forcing you into a position where your injury would bleed you out before you could get to safety." She nodded, crossing his arms, "Remember, Reds are used to fighting multiple-on-one, and undead that can rapidly heal with Estus, while they can't. You can only heal with miracles, which take ages to cast and count on your opponent being brain-dead to miss. One stab to the head while you're caught healing, and you're dead."

Aura nodded, speech still near impossible for her, ashamed she'd been beaten just as hard as all the other times. Vance continued:

"Your movements have to be tighter, much tighter as not to alert the enemy what you will do, and you have to be a lot lighter on your feet. Unless you're carrying a Greatshield with a Chloranthy Ring, all your blocking will do is wear you down, and make you an easy target, and you can't trade damage, because your healing is so restricted. I told you, you have to roll with the attacks, instead of stand against them. And if you come up on an attack you're not confident with parrying, you need to distance yourself. Control the spacing of the battle, and you can take advantage your magic without being vulnerable to a counter attack."

"I'll try." Aura offered weakly, her small, airy voice still foreign to her. It was hard to believe she had barely heard her own voice before, but there were many things she was not used to.

The world stopped. The unmistakable ripple of the world's being crossed resounding through the land, sending tremors up Aura's spine, Vance stiffening and reaching to Aura, demanding her sharpened sword, discarding his dull one.

She passed it off, Vance swinging the weapon a few times to get a feel for it, eyes alert as the distortion continued, looking out for the invader.

"Which covenant?" He asked, Aura blinking, Vance giving his irritated sigh and repeating: "Which covenant does that signature belong to?" The petite fighter blushed as she understood what he was asking. Every covenant, every type of phantom, had its own, very distinct aura when they invaded, the nature of their presence determining the feel of the distortion. She had felt the terror and hopelessness of being hunted down by the ruthless, noble-to-a-fault Blue Sentinels, but Vance taught her many more, as determining their capabilities and intent could save her life.

This one felt strange: it was malevolent, but not wholly evil, seeming targeted at her in particular, though there was no particular ill-will against her. It seemed to seek her destruction, yet there was a note of playfulness, arousing her own will to fight, to see who was the stronger of the two, the idea of cutting into the invader and driving him back filling her with a sick feeling of glee.

"It's the Brotherhood of Blood." Aura murmured, Vance nodding in half-approval,

"Yes it is, you may be useless, but at least you catch on fast, now what are his strengths and weaknesses?"

"Um…" Aura fought to remember, feeling the stress on her as the invader closed in, drawn towards his target, prepared for battle, "They are hardened fighters. They have a great deal of experience fighting other undead, and even monsters, with white signs. They crave battle, they love bloodshed and violence. They are not always bad… but… they fight with everything they have when they arrive, and don't stop until they, or their target, are destroyed."

"Yes, what else? How do you kill a Brother of Blood?" Aura felt her heart skipping around,

"Though you shouldn't, you can heal when they are injured. And they always fight alone, even with other Brothers around, they don't usually work together unless they have to. The rest of it… comes down to battle experience and skill."

"That's exactly right." Vance nodded, motioning down the wall, to a tunnel in the cliff that lead to the piers where the boats docked, "Stand back, you're going to learn how to win fight between undead firsthand."

Aura followed his gaze, over to the stark, blood-red phantom that had finally caught sight of them. He put his hand to his head, sending off some sort of playful wave, Vance waving back.

"That's right, we're right here." Aura stood back a bit, the Brother of Blood sprinting down the way, glancing back and forth, as though to pick up any undead that may be waiting in ambush for him. He had a dark, furry hat over his head, a few feathers trailing down, with some sort of wicked monocle with crosshairs over his right eye, his body cloaked in some form of lavish coat with magic scrolls in a few knapsacks, all radiating magic power.

His offhand weapon looked to be a diminutive, wicked little Sai with a thin, jabbing blade and a forked guard, his dominant weapon a long, vicious ivory rapier lined with bloodstained barbs, the entire weapon coated in a dense violet energy that radiated an ill feeling.

Vance's calm demeanor shifted as he raised his shield more, something that told Aura the duelist was formidable enough to concern him, something that instantly unnerved her. The duelist stopped short, offering his greeting in a cheerful, almost psychotic voice:

"Two on one today?"

"Just me." Vance returned, "She's human, so Bridgette'll have my ass if I let her die." He laughed,

"Human, huh?" He shrugged, "Sorry, but she's my target. That's her fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm just doing my job."

"Figured as much." Vance sighed, "But you can deal with me first."

"Fair enough." The duelist shrugged, blue flames of magic gliding down his darkened blade, "Let's see what you've got, stranger." Vance put a hand to his chest, dropping a knee and bowing, the duelist returning the gesture, before they leapt back and started forward, Aura feeling her heart skip as the battle broke out:

The duelist rolled forward, tumbling over the ground at lightning speeds and lunging forward as he rolled upright, his rapier biting into Vance's antiqued shield with a surprising amount of force, the red-headed warrior grunting as the dark energy soaked through the shield and bit at his arm, Vance returning with a swing of his sword, the duelist leaping back out of reach, letting the longsword pass him before lunging with his rapier, striking Vance's shoulder and sending a spark of dark through his shoulder, tearing off part of his armor as the barbs tore back out.

Vance rammed his shield into the duelist, staggering him back and going for a strike with his longsword, the blade nearly scraping him, before the fork of the duelist's diminutive knife caught the blade, pulling it over his head and aside, stepping in and lunging with Vance trapped in his own swing-

The rapier tore into his shoulder, this time with enough momentum to run it through, Aura gagging as she watched the rows of barbed spines break through one by one, before the duelist put a boot on Vance's stomach and tore the blade out as he pulled himself back, blood pouring as the rough spines tore out layer after layer of muscle and tendon, dropping Vance to the ground and leaving a pit in his shoulder, his longsword dropping.

The duelist went to finish him off with a stab to the head, Vance throwing his shield forward and angling it to push the blade aside, the duelist falling forward, but kneeing him in the chest and dropping him to the ground before Vance could take advantage, the red-head recovering when he grabbed the rogue's leg and pulled him from his feet with his superior strength, sending them both to the ground.

Vance rolled aside, getting on his feet and reaching for his Estus, the duelist rolling upright and bringing his rapier back, the red-head starting to drink, when he noticed how strange it was for the Duelist to be standing so far back when he was clearly healing, squinting to gaze through his monocle-crosshairs and bringing his rapier back as it flashed blue-

Vance took one quick gulp, throwing himself aside mere millimeters from the arch of powerful energy launched from the tip of the weapon, taking another quick sip as the duelist enwreathed his blade with power and ran in.

The warrior swerved aside as the rapier-wielder stabbed past him, the duelist throwing his blade out to parry, but Vance stayed his fist, the duelist angling for another strike, getting knocked from his feet as Vance rammed his open stomach with the edge of his shield, sending him to the ground-

His rapier flashed, a bolt of power going right through his heart, the sound of sizzling flesh and muscle filling the chill air as Vance clutched his chest and coughed blood. But, the Estus in his system kept him on his feet as he reached down and took another large gulp, the flask nearly three-quarters gone. The duelist hunched up and flipped to his feet, a smirk over his face as Vance healed, another arc of power crossing his rapier.

"You're almost out, a few more wounds and you'll be wide open, friend." The calm that always seemed to be on Vance dispelled. It was clear to Aura, crying at a loss for how to help the warrior, the only thing between her and that Brother of Blood, that even with the ability to heal, Vance was massively outclassed by the invading Duelist.

Vance put his guard up, moving for his sword, the Brother of Blood sending a precision bolt across the wall, hitting the stone near the weapon and knocking it away, more distance than Vance could cover without exposing his back or simply moving slow enough to be closed in on.

Aura breathed heavily, cowering behind the wall and watching the duelist close in, starting at a run, Vance turning his back and running for the sword, the lighter fighter closing in and leaping into the air higher than Aura could believe. The duelist landed on Vance, driving his blade down into the back of his shoulders, the wicked blade making a ting as it struck the back of his breastplate and tackled him to the ground.

The Brother of Blood gave a cruel grin, twisting his rapier in the wound, the barbs tearing holes through the organs and muscles, Vance losing the ability to resist crying out and finally letting up a screech, the duelist laughing and finally tearing the rapier out, muscles and tendons once more coming out with the barbs.

He let up a sigh of contentment, drawing his rapier back and channeling the great arcane power into the tip once more, aiming point blank at the back of his head.

"Heal this." Aura panted, standing up and running for the duelist. She couldn't take care of herself, maybe, but… he said the greatest weakness a red phantom had was fighting alone. She let up a pained yowl, grabbing the longsword and diving for the duelist, who looked from Vance to her.

If she could not save him, she was dead.

The Brother of Blood shifted course, flipping his rapier around as she went to tackle him, a blinding flash leaving his rapier as she drove her shoulder into him, toppling him to the ground. Vance getting up and using the last of his estus.

Aura peaked her eyes open, her longsword embedded in the duelist's sternum, his breath stopping, though he held on, grinning.

"I guess we both lose, if I die before you." Aura didn't know what he was talking about, until she felt a numb come over her, looking down in a daze, detached from herself. The rapier was hilt-deep in her stomach, the dark and magic energies pouring into her skin, a massive black disk of burned flesh all the way through her, and slowly growing.

She felt a hand at the back of her neck, pulling her off with a harsh jerk, the rapier pulling out of her. The duelist glanced up as Vance drew the sword from him, plunging it back down, into his head. The disturbance left, the phantom crumbling into the ether and disappearing, a flow of souls going into the two, a warm feeling passing into her from the foggy mist.

Aura panted, feeling relief it was over, yet, cold, even more than usual…

"You stupid tit!" Vance snapped, "I told you you can't heal your injuries like we can, especially from a weapon that deadly!" Aura tried to form an "I'm sorry", but suddenly she felt too weak to speak, feeling blood pouring down her back and legs, a space in her stomach where there was no feeling, where a pit had literally opened up from the mystic weapon.

Her breath drew short, a clatter of metal on the ground near her, before she was lifted, hugged against his chest with two strong arms around her back. She felt as though she could sleep, until she was shaken violently, her glassy eyes opening slightly, focusing on the night sky as he stopped shaking her and started off, the world sweeping by fast.

Each time she blinked, it felt as though several minutes passed, each time flashing to a new place, her senses gone, as though in a dream.

At last, entered a fairly familiar, loud room:

"Vance, what are you- oh my gods!" Bridgette's voice snapped, breaking as Vance laid her down, "What did you do?!"

"Heal her." He replied monotonously, Bridgette appearing over her,

"How-"

"Heal her, before the shock kills her." Aura could barely breathe, he focus drifting, before Bridgette laid down her shield and weapon, drawing a three-pronged bell from her side, shaking it and murmuring several lines of arcane text at once, a ringing and shaking a heavy curtain of golden light from it, the particles gravitating to Aura and soaking into her skin.

She felt warmth spread through her, her breathing strengthening as she was enclosed in a great, golden rune with starburst orange radiating from it,

"Bountiful Sunlight." Bridgette's prayer concluded, Aura feeling her wound begin to mend and restore itself, her entire body feeling hot as she evaded death, for then. She still felt exhausted, lying on the floor resting, roused from sleep as the two begun to shout again:

"What happened to her, you were just training!"

"You think I did this, sweetheart?" Vance growled, "We were training, but she was invaded by a Brother of Blood, you may have felt that faintly, right?"

"Why did you let him attack her! She- do you realize how close to death she was!"

"Yes, I've fought undead before, remember? I didn't let him do anything, he overwhelmed me, and in the end she jumped into the fight herself in my defense. He hit her with a dark-infused notched rapier, and that was the end of it."

"Why did you fight him in the first place!" she shouted, tears streaming down her face, "He could have killed her, if you had that much time in advance, why didn't you retreat for help? You-"

"…"

"You challenged him back, didn't you? You chose to stand and fight him!" There was a pause.

"What do you want me to say? Aura's a fast learner, but describing things to her, trying to walk her through things without her ever seeing them-"

"You bastard!" she shouted, her fist hitting his armor, "This isn't the arena! You're not a Brother of Blood anymore, you can't just challenge people to fight because it suits you."

"You're not listening." He replied calmly, "I challenged him because I wanted Aura to see a fight between undead firsthand. We can't be there for her every minute of every day. Trying to train her without any actual combat experience is not only stupid, but it's dangerous. You never know what you'll do or how you act when it's a real fight, when lives are on the line. I killed people twice as combat ready as her, you know why? Because when I bore down on them, the first thing they did was run for their allies, all they could do is backpedal away and call for help, but it never came because by the time it did I had already split their skulls." He snapped, "I know what an invader would do to her, because I've been there on the other side, and me and my brothers and sisters did way worse than simply kill some of our victims. You're right, I'm not a Sunlight Warrior, or an Arbiter, I'm a Brother of Blood, I will always be a Brother of Blood, even without the title. You want to train her to fight in units of three or more in jolly-cooperation and companionship, you go right ahead, but if you want to teach her to stand on her own two feet, fight with her own strength and survive by the strength of her own will when everyone else has fallen, I'll train her my way."

Everything was quiet after that, Aura again getting picked up, this time by far more delicate, more gentle hands, Charlotte carrying her away unsteadily, the small warrior passing out to sleep.

What a delightfully miserable place, Umbri thought to herself, somehow without irony as she strode down the long, rickety bridge to her destination. The entire region was nestled into a great set of canyons, a fathoms deep gorge between every great plateau, connected by a set of aged bridges. The place radiated dark, the sky an overcast, sickly green, as though all the misdeeds of the past had left a permanent taint on the land.

The land itself was shrouded with trees and copses of all variety, a heavy canopy set over the land, darkening the paths and offering uncountable ambush points, several arbiters and many hollows taking advantage of said fact, although the latter and Umbri both had to watch out for the looming, hollowed abominations wandering the wastes, seeming to charge form the darkness slicing all before them apart with reckless abandon.

Even with all the undead passing through, searching for the one with a Great Soul said to live far, far away in a lost kingdom past this forest, they had yet to clear every enemy, or even some of the enemies, or organize a force that wasn't harassed into extinction by the armies of Arbiters seeking to cleanse this land, which, at a glance, spoke of a history of evil that far predated the undead who dwelled there now.

The greatest monument to death and carnage, however, stood before her, across the unsteady bridge taking her to the highest point. It was, from the outside, a looming coliseum of dark, ground stones encompassing the entire mountaintop before her, twisted, abstract metal sculptures hanging from immense iron chains borne aloft by a set of cranes and pulleys above the roofline.

The local undead called it the undead purgatory, though it seemed something befitting hell itself, even Umbri getting chills as the presence it exuded from its perch above the rest of the forest readied down towards her. It was no place for the weak, or for the self-righteous Arbiters and their "holy" doctrines, it was a place where the sick and depraved found a permanent home amongst their brothers and sisters.

Even Umbri wondered if she would be privy to join such an order, or if she would leave with all her faculties and appendages intact when she went in, but, they spoke of a dark flame, a chaos flame within, that their master had achieved through decades of carnage, and that the purgatory was a crucible where the weak were effaced, and the strong could gather innumerable souls in battle, in phantom form when they couldn't be injured, leaving no risk of death or losing souls.

Though it lacked the elegance of the Pilgrims of Dark, long extinct until she had begun her journey, this was where she would regain all the souls she lost, and infinitely more, where she would grow strong for her quest.

She stepped through the threshold of the fortress, walking into a long, winding chamber that seemed to circle the fortress, making a ring, the windows beyond showing her a gargantuan courtyard, multiple tiers of arenas throughout the center, even on upper levels and bridges.

Despite her impression of the place being brooding and dead, there was activity everywhere in the dim, dusty corridor. Undead, men and woman, were everywhere, packing the chamber wall to wall, going all the way down and around, scattered belongings and bedsheets spread everywhere, the place completely drowned with chatter and noise as they discussed their latest battles, flirted, or even made simple small-talk.

Aside from the corridor, scattered bones, scratches on the walls, and the treads of some savage wheels marking a great monster that once rode these halls, she could hear multiple tiers of the six-story building all buzzing with activity of all types while the courtyard filled with red phantoms doing battle to thunderous audiences, the den of vice glowing with sin. It set her at ease, Umbri wondering if joining would be easier than she thought.

As she wound around the corridor, a few catcalled to her, as she expected, but a few also leered at her, Umbri sensing their hostility to outsiders. There were many powerful enemies that would be overjoyed to see the place brought down, so Umbri could sense that one wrong move and death would be the least of her concerns.

As she traveled down, she passed a set of stairs, leading to higher up in the building, Umbri following then up, towards the top. At the highest floor, the noise died down, ceasing, telling her this was not a place for idle chatter and fun, as the rest of the place was. She searched around, until she spotted him:

She was not sure what the master of the Brotherhood of Blood would be like, though visions of a towering monster of a man graced her mind. Instead, he was diminutive, only half her size, with small arms, small legs, and a partly emaciated core.

He wore a one-piece black robe, tied at the middle, with some pale tan fur around the collar, the legs of a spider replacing an elegant cape. His head was obscured by a pointed, drooping hat, shredded at the base just enough to allow him to look out into his personal sanctum, the statues of the blood god along the wall, his mouth, a small, cat-like grin coated with dust and dirt peaking below the fabric.

He was nowhere near what Grandahl was: an auger of raw, unbridled power and wisdom, yet there was no mistake the small figure, named Titchy Gren by passing rumors, was a monster worthy of leading the brotherhood, the hellish black scythe at his back dripping with darkness and blood, his aura so malign without needing any special forces beyond his own bloodlust it terrified her.

As if to testify his rite of Nahr Alma, his shadow was extended by the great, looming painting of blood over the wall behind him, his own small fingermarks all around, where he painted with the blood of his enemies, a crescent of gently burning candles setting his form alight.

Umbri approached him, the ceremonial hood shifting towards her, indicating she had caught his attention. Much like Grandahl, he seemed to look right into her, determining her worthiness on a fundamental level. His smile widened, a deep, low voice echoing from his tiny chest:

"Ooh, welcome, welcome. Do you have a lust for blood?" Umbri tried to put on her best face, kneeling down before him to sit at eye level:

"Yes, I want the blood of my enemies."

"Then you will need blood. Lots of it. Undead blood. Like your own." With every word he seemed to get more giddy, his breath drawing short with ecstasy, "But it's not as easy as you think! Well, what'dya say? Join the Brotherhood of Blood?" Umbri felt right at home by him, nodding:

"Yes." His smirk wavered, before a low, biting laugh shook him,

"Hmm... Only ever one word answers from you, isn't it." He paused, "I want to hear what you really think. You want more than just a little blood. You want to be drenched in it, mired in its foul stench. Am I right? Am I? Oh just say that I'm right..." He cackled, barely containing himself. The dark monarch saw so much in him, what she wanted to be, getting roused to the core. He would be the one to take her fighting skills far beyond, his men would be her brothers and sisters, and they would all spill the blood of the unfit. She wouldn't need to wile and deceive to get what she wanted.

Umbri leaned him, kissing him on the cheek, a tremor going through his body.

"Yes, I want that."

"I knew it. I knew it." he laughed, "Fantastic! You're the best. Now you are a servant of Nahr Alma. This Crest of Blood is yours." He drew his hand along the wall, the blood coagulating, reshaping, until it transformed in his palm: a gnarled, silver ring with a bright red crest upon it, depicting a chalice of blood.

Umbri took the object, feeling no special power form it, yet it seemed to rouse her primal instincts, as if holding it augmented her savagery, her killer instincts. Putting it on with a shaky hand, the rough silver digging into her hand as she pressed it on, she felt stronger, wild, untamed. Her craving for power became distinct: she wanted more than simple power, she wanted to exercise it. She wanted blood.

"There!" Titchy Gren exclaimed, "Another servant of blood is born! You will serve well, I just know you will!" Umbri admired her new piece, the line between the influence of the covenant and her own will blurred, yet she knew the craving for excellence in battle was all hers.

"Yes, I will."

Aura: Nothing in particular, just some regular travel wear the undead scraped up for her.

Vance: Drangleic armor, Drangleic Shield, Longsword

The Brother of Blood: Northwarder set, Durgo's Hat, Ice Rapier, Parry Dagger, Dark Enhancement.