Sir Yeral stood atop the Parish, gazing out at the bell tower across the slanted roof. The enormous iron bell was framed by the setting sun, and four bronze gargoyles sat around it, almost like immobile sentries. Reise was no longer with him, for she had ventured below, to the vile swamps of Blighttown. Upon arriving in Lordran, the two knights had learnt, to their displeasure, that there were in fact TWO Bells of Awakening, one above the Undead Parish, and one deep in Blighttown. He may have split with his partner, but Sir Yeral was not alone, for he was now accompanied by another, less pleasant companion.
"Come now, let's not stand about. The bell is just there." spoke the smooth voice of Knight Lautrec, with more than a tinge of impatience. The knight's golden armor gleamed brilliantly, and his curved shotels glinted with a wicked light. Yeral wasn't really sure he could trust the strange man that had been locked in the Parish, but he wanted as much help as he could get. Still, the impatient knight was really starting to grate on his nerves. Nevertheless, he knew that Lautrec was right, so he stepped out onto the roof, which was thankfully well-supported. About halfway to the belltower, however, he heard a loud cracking noise, and looked up. One of the gargoyles built onto the tower had come to life, and was now dashing across the roof at him.
"Ah yes, living gargoyles. How quaint." Lautrec said dryly, as Yeral raised his shield. The gargoyle swung viciously with its long, heavy halberd, but Yeral stood his ground and the blade was deflected off his kite shield. Lautrec leapt forward with his shotels, their thin blades slicing cleanly through the gargoyle's bronze hide. As the gargoyle hefted the halberd above its head, preparing to smash Yeral into the ground, he rolled to the side and swiped at the beast with his sword, leaving a long cut across its face. Lautrec, having circled around behind the monstrous statue, slashed quickly and repeatedly at the gargoyle's axe-like tail, which was quickly severed in a shower of blood.
As soon as they had gained the upper hand, however, a shrill shriek permeated the air, and another gargoyle jumped down from the bell tower. This one seemed to be more worn and battered, and its tail was already missing. It landed right behind Lautrec, to his surprise, and leaned forward, its gaping jaws opened wide. A huge stream of fire burst from the second gargoyle's throat, blasting Lautrec backwards. Yeral was worried for his safety for a moment, before Lautrec climbed to his feet, smoking slightly. Yeral didn't have time to see if his comrade was injured, however, as the first gargoyle bashed its round shield into his head.
Dazed, Yeral staggered backwards, and only narrowly avoided a swipe from the beast's halberd. As the gargoyle swung horizontally again, Yeral quickly rolled towards it, ducking under the blade, and stabbed his sword into the gargoyle's heart. It let out a pitiful cry and disintegrated into specks of golden light, leaving behind nothing but its halberd. Seeing its comrade perish, the second gargoyle roared in rage and dived at Yeral, preparing to blast a stream of fire point-blank. At the very last moment, Lautrec's curved blades slammed into its head, and it too disappeared into thin air.
"My, my, that was an adventure. I suppose we should have expected the bells to be guarded. Nothing in this land is ever easy." Lautrec said mildly, apparently completely unfazed by the fierce battle that had taken place. Yeral, on the other hand, was a different story. He was breathing heavily, and his hands were quivering from the tension. Slowly, he looked up at the bell tower, hoping that the other two gargoyles were merely statues. Since neither showed any signs of movement, he decided that it was safe to proceed.
"Well, the bell is just there, right? Hopefully there is nothing else between it, and us..." Yeral said, just as much to himself as to Lautrec, as he walked forwards slowly. Lautrec, however, had turned back to the entrance to the Parish. "Sir Lautrec? Do you not want to ring the bell with me?" Yeral asked curiously. Just what was his new partner thinking?
"Oh, no, you go on ahead. I will return to Firelink and rest. That fire scorched me more than it seemed." Lautrec replied coolly, but Yeral suspected that this wasn't the whole truth. As Lautrec headed back into the Parish, Yeral simply shrugged. Lautrec's business was Lautrec's business, he decided, and turned back to the bell tower, marching slowly across the rooftop. Fortunately, the other gargoyles were indeed inanimate, and Yeral made his way safely inside the tower. From there, all it took was a couple of long ladders, and he was standing before the Bell of Awakening itself. Spotting a large lever under the bell, he hurried over and pulled it backwards. Their was a sound of heavy gears grinding, and then the enormous bell began to sway back and forth, its thunderous clanging filling the air. As the noise subsided, Yeral turned to begin the climb back down.
"One down, one remains. I hope Reise is faring well..." he muttered to himself.
"That is how the first bell was rung. Trust me, these bells are relevant to how I ended up here." Yeral concluded. Priscilla was smiling slightly now, she seemed to have legitimately enjoyed that tale. A vicious battle against living statues, and a suspicious new character. Of course, she couldn't shake the feeling that Yeral was embellishing his stories to make them more exciting, but they were interesting nonetheless. Plus, she was intrigued to hear anything about the outside world after so many centuries of isolation. Naturally, just as with the previous story, that were a few matters that piqued her curiosity.
"Thou mentioned a vile swamp called 'Blighttown', couldst thou elaborate?" she asked, although she already had an unpleasant mental image. Yeral shuddered in disgust, which only reinforced her theory.
"Ugh. It is a miserable, poison-filled hole that sits above Izalith. It is infested by horrid mutated creatures, enormous mosquitoes, and deadly toxins. The descent down involves climbing on thin, rickety wooden platforms, and the floor of the swamp is naught but poisoned sludge. It is one of the worst places I have had the misfortune of visiting." Yeral ranted miserably. He vividly remembered everything about that awful marsh. Priscilla was surprised, this was the first time that the knight had sounded angry, although she knew that he wasn't mad at her.
"I hath never seen something as vile as thou describe. My birthplace was great Anor Londo, which wouldst always be impeccably cleaned." She shared, thinking back to the shining white city, its sky lit by eternal sun. She had heard of swamps in stories, and seen the occasional painting by traveling artists, but never experienced such filth for herself. Recalling her past, however, quickly put Priscilla into a melancholy mood. "...though, I doth suppose, the ways I was treated were vile enough..." she mumbled, more to herself than to Yeral. Yeral looked at her with pure sympathy. She really was a complete outcast, wasn't she? No wonder she was wary of visitors... That feeling of being shunned by your community... Yeral knew it as well, though perhaps that was his own fault...
"Ahem... I suppose you do not want to talk about it?" he asked Priscilla awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort her. In fact, why was he feeling so bad for someone that was practically a stranger?
"No, no, not now... Please continue thy tale..." Priscilla murmured. Yeral knew that she was feeling very sad at the moment, but seeing no other options, he decided to do as she asked.