So I know exactly where I want this to go now, I have a clear path and that doesn't include the Depths or needless bullshit. This will of course have a small butterfly effect in itself, which will be good for the story anyway.
I'll also be glossing over a lot of busy work and focus more on other stuff for the moment. Or at least an attempt at it, I'm aware I'm far from an expert on characterization.
Menma sat aside the bonfire of the Shrine, his comrades near. Even Anastasia had been somewhat sociable, choosing to place herself near the crossbreed. Menma had regaled his friends with the tale of his exploits, "Soon I'll be heading down to New Londo, apparently shit's goin' down there."
"Ah, the city fallen to the Darkwraiths, terribly scary that."
"Sounds fucking wonderful, but before that I need to go back to Anor Londo, go into the Dukes Archives, kill a Golem, for reasons, and then go down into Darkroot. No, I don't know what this will accomplish either."
"How very curious, and convoluted. I wonder what that will accomplish." Pondered Solaire.
Menma shrugged, not knowing either, but was eager to hear of their journeys, "What about you guys. I can't just talk about myself all day, well I could but that's besides the point." Seigmeyered puffed up.
"I plan to journey into the Depths and defeat a mighty beast that lay within, such an adventure will surely be worthy of a grand ballad. Haha!" Solaire smiled serenely, as he seemed to always do, the man radiated, pun intended, serenity and friendliness, the charisma was strong in this one.
"I will seek my sun in Lost Izalith. I have looked high, it is time to look low. In fact, Sir Siegmeyer, would you welcome aid, the Depths lead into Blighttown after all." Suggested Solaire, releasing a full bodied laugh Seigmeyer clapped the man on the shoulder.
"It would be a pleasure, Sir Solaire. This Knight of Catarina welcomes your aid, what a fearsome duo we will make."
"Get a room you two." Jested Menma, grinning at their wide eyed looks, Orange flared up next to him, drawing a sigh from him.
"You must retrieve the amulet, and reach the anomaly. All will become clear from there." Rubbing the ridge of his nose Menma just conceded, apparently he wasn't allowed to take breaks, with a sharp whistle Tsuki fluttered down near him.
"Ready to fly again, sweetheart?" He asked, her feelers rubbing his hair as she released happy trills, "I'm going to head up to Anor Londo, it should only take a few minutes. Would you guys mind checking back in here at some point, it'll be good to catch up with you again." Said Menma, biting into his wrist said blood formed into a copy of him who nodded and sat down at the fire in his place, he leapt up onto Tsuki's neck.
"Thou art leaving me..?" Asked a hurt crossbreed.
"Of course not, the blood clone is essentially me but a little weaker. Everything he see's I'll see. So I'm still here, it just means I can be two places at once." Assured Menma, the clone speaking at the same time, getting a few strange looks, Tsuki flapped and took off heading up to the large mountain city.
Darkroot Garden An Hour Later
Menma had gone and fetched the amulet, a feeble looking thing, broken. The chord threadbare and barely together, it's not like getting it was terribly hard thought. Barely worth a mention, a few crystals here and there. Not much more than a big library. Whatever, he was here now, ankle deep in water and looking at the spiraling distortion in the air.
"I don't trust this." Said Kurama.
"Did I give you permission to talk, bitch?" Asked Menma, spitefully, looking off to the side, just staring at the air hatefully. Kurama growled in response, "I didn't, now get back in your pit before I come in there and toss you around some more."
"Is such hatred necessary, my friend?" Asked Quela, concerned about the tension between the two.
"He's a pet, a battery and an inconvenience. The only reason he's still around is because I want to milk his anger for all its worth." Said Menma, the Chaos Edge stirred, the orange flaming phantom appearing by his side, Quela grabbed one of his hands, on contact it grew armour and the blue flames creeped out of the gaps.
"This hatred you have will poison you, dear. You cannot let it fester like this." She advised, Menma looked at the projection of his blades inhabitant.
"What's your angle?" Asked the Vessel of Chaos with suspicion, Quela blinked owlishly at this, "You must want something, no one tries to change someone without a bid for personal gain, what are you after? Is it freedom? Because I don't know how to go about separating you from the Chaos Soul, even if I did you'd be an empty shell, because you are the soul. Is Kurama bothering you with his sulking?" Thought Menma, aloud. The Witch sighed, placing her hands at both sides of his face, once more armour grew there, and in turn vanished from his hand, the armour that grew on his face was much like some screaming demon of some kind, hooked barbs running along his jawline his mouth covered by the lower open jaw of some Oni kind of 'mask'.
"I want nothing from you, but I've seen so much death, so much horror through what I created. I cannot bear to see more, especially the torment you put yourself through with your own demons, my savior. Please, at the very least think on my words." She vanished, returning to the blade, Menma rubbed at his face, the tingling sensation abating slowly.
"Strange woman." He commented, walking towards the disturbance, all of a sudden a giant hand exploded out of it and before he could react, he was pulled in. Menma felt repulsion, first and foremost, because that hand had eyes, and tiny beak-like mouths all over its abominable form, Chaos Maggots weren't even this bad.
Sanctuary
Menma rose aside a Bonfire, rubbing his sore head, a small cave was all that was around him, a few roots from the surface, outside that it wasn't much to see. Menma stood up and dusted himself off, with a click the fire burst up into life, walking through the cave he was with a mist wall immediately, "A little soon for a big bad isn't it?" He asked himself, walking through. He was given sight to a Chimera-like creature, with large feathered wings, and a scorpion tail. It had the head of a rather pissed of lion. Big red eyes filled with wild hatred.
Menma was unintimidated, "I beat the shit out of a demon that rampaged when I was a baby, you're nothing to me, kitten." Spat Menma, flashing forward and kicking the creature up into the air, it wailed in both pain and shock as vertigo hit it full on, Menma leapt after it heel dropping the creature back down and creating a large crater in the process, fire gathered around his right arm, as he descended it exploded with enough thrust to send him rocketing down, the creature suffered severe brain trauma and then an exploded skull for its trouble.
And Menma got flush of souls to distribute in his body later, along with a golden soul, curiously he picked it up, shaking off the embers from his clothes, "It's useless, just crush it and get the power inside." Aside from being a little pushy lately, Orange had never really steered him wrong, so Menma did so. Another rush of souls filled his body, nothing much else to say really. The creature was a fucking chump so it's not like it'd be a great font of power to begin with. Menma rolled his shoulders as the fog walls coating the exits fell away allowing him through.
He passed through and was given sight of some kind of graveyard, it did have a certain atmosphere to it, several mossy statues, some missing their heads, oddly they were the most worn, odd in the sense that the head looked to have been lopped off rather than fallen. Another bonfire rested in the middle, he did a quick spin around to see if all of the statues were facing the flame, unfortunately not all of them, just a lot of them. Pity he was hoping for some cool symbolism stuff.
"Ah, it is thee, he who saved our dear Princess Dusk." Said an aged woman's voice, Menma looked around, but saw none. "Over here, child." Said the voice, Menma turned to his left and saw a large patch of mushrooms growing from the wall one having...Eyes. Wonderful. More nonsense.
"Ah...A giant talking Mushroom that knows who I am. Super, what can I do for you, Madam Shroom?" Asked Menma, crossing his arms.
The mushroom laughed, laughed,at him. "Thine aura is precisely as Princess Dusk described. She hath spoken of thee at length, a roguish man with strange mannerisms." The mushroom grew forlorn, "But she is here no longer, snatched away by that beast, that horrifying Primeval Human..." Her eyes cast back up to Menma, "I know tis a grand ask, but...Could you once more play the hero, and rescue our dear, Princess Dusk?"
"Yeah, sure." Shrugged Menma, blowing a stray strand of hair away. "Not like I can really die, it'll more be a sense of time more than anything, I'll be back in a while." Said Menma, walking away muttering about 'Fucking mushrooms' and 'Ditzy princesses'. Such was a day in the life of Menma.
Oolacile.
Menma had passed through the forests, nothing of great interest happened, some gardeners tending to the trees and other such greenery, large towering stone golems wandering about paying him no mind whatsoever. Menma saw some creature flying about but paid it no mind for now, it didn't bother him so he didn't bother it.
He came upon an arena of some kind, of course there was a fog wall, there's always a fucking fog wall. Shaking his head Menma checked himself over making sure he was at least somewhat prepared to face what could be ahead, Chaos edge was good enough one could suppose. Power of a god and all that jazz. Stepping through the fog, instead of a big bad there was some odd creature with a bloated skull, covered in eyes and little claws in place of teeth. Stretched arms, the skin pulled taunt against the lanky limbs.
Then a figure fell down from the sky and drove a giant blade through its head, the figure was clad in decayed blue and tarnished silver armour a beak-like helmet a small length of cloth acting as a limp plume, Menma drew his blade on reflex, the segments separating as molten orange and red burned, lengthening the blade by about 20cm. The man, soaked in darkness leapt forward, a trail of slimy black, mass, Menma dashed to the side and swiped with his blade, flame mirroring it with an arc of orange-red, said flame burnt the knights cloth but did little else to still the creature.
"Artorias?" Asked Quela, Menma backstepped before lunging forward through the mans guard and smacking him with a ferocious headbutt, on contact Menma's armour grew to cover his face, the red Oni mask having thick tusks coming from the bottom canines, the eyes wide and filled with madness, to Menma it was like nothing covered his face at all, his vision just got a shade of so darker, like being under the shadow of a tree.
Menma sucked power out the sword, forming more armour on his body, instead of the faint tingling sensation it felt like pins and needles, not entirely pleasnat. His black clothing being sunken under the mess of spikes and blue fires, a whip-like tail limply hanging from his waist, the 'demon' and the 'dark' clashed, blade against blade, flames flashing with each blade strike, Artorias flipped up and slashed to gain some distance, darkness rose from the defiled earth around the Knight, Menma leapt forward and slammed a flaming fist into the Knight's chest, forcing him to stumble his fist opened so Menma grabbed the chestplate, throwing Artorias in the air and ending up on the ground, on his back, "Katon: Goukakyuu No Jutsu!" An azure haze leapt from his armour and formed the fireball, shooting from his free hand and striking the airborne Artorias.
Getting up while he had the chance Menma back up a bit to gain some distance, Artorias landed, smoke rising from his charred armour, Menma smirked as lightning sparked across his free hands fingers, "Prepare for irony." Said Menma, lightning grew and grew, screaming and screeching, Artorias roared and howled in pain and rage, Menma dashed, more like slid, towards the Knight, "Raikiri!" Menma stuck his hand into the knights chest, lightning exploding all over his form and burst out of his back.
Artorias' howl echoed as his body disintegrated into familiar ash, instead of the usual golden soul, it was one drenched in darkness, crusted over with abyss chunks. Menma plucked the soul and took it into his sign, the darkness flashing under his skin as his armour melted away, Menma shook his head in hopes of clearing his mind of the cobwebs that came with taking such a soul into himself.
The sensation wasn't unpleasant so much as it was foreign.
Sheathing his sword and walking out of the arena, happily, he found a bonfire, with a click and a burst of flames he sat down and enjoyed the flames loving glow. Time flashed before his eyes, the sun went down and then rose again, a hand touched Menma's shoulder. He jumped slightly at the touch, looking over his shoulder to see a cyclopean mask with two slits for the wearer to see through, but it wasn't a stretch to assume the style was that of a cyclope, considering the eye on the forehead.
Twinsies!
The person was female, as the form of the outfit suggested, whether she was the owner of the blonde ponytail or not was yet to be established. "Oh, hey there." He greeted with a smile, the figure's crystalline blue eyes peered through the eyeslits and into his soul...Souls.
"Are you the one that slew the man in the arena?" Asked the woman, Menma nodded. Her eyes fell slightly at that but she nodded, taking a step back and straightening up. "I see...Did you know of this man?" She asked softly.
Menma pulled Quela off his belt, sheath and all, standing the sword up against his shoulder, her gestured to it, "The Witch told me his name, Artorias. Beyond that I don't know much else." The woman tilter her head so slight it was mere millimeters but Menma did manage to spot it, "What?"
She shook her head, ponytail flicking about, and sat next to him at the fire, "Artorias was charged by Lord Gwyn to cease the spread of the Abyss..."
Ciaran, that was her name. She spoke at length about Artorias, the Abyss, Primeval Man, the troubles of this land, how she and her kin, the Four Knights, had been dispatched, well three of the four but whatever, though apparently they were dispatched at different points in time, Artorias and Sif, his wolf, first. Followed by Gough, a Giant apparently. Then Ciaran had been loosed recently to see the results, as none from Oolacile had reported any change. This warranted investigation.
In turn Menma gave a little on himself, how apparently his 'guide' had told him to 'go to the past' and here he was. 'The Witch' was the Chaos Soul in a sword, she pressed for more information about this he waved her off, saying it would matter little when he dealt with what he had to. This only called more questions from her, "I'll see when I'm done."
When she inquired about Artorias' soul, Menma was conflicted. He had no obligation to this woman, she may have spilt her guts to him about her dearest friend but that meant little to him, but the idea of even separating from the soul distressed him. It was part of the reason he hadn't allowed Gwyndolin to 'reform' yet, she was...So warm, within him. Artorias was like a cold tar in his veins, but it made him feel amazing. His own selfishness was the deciding factor, and it won out, hands down.
"I...Can't do that." He said, at her inquisitive stare he shook his head, "I don't know why but it's like the souls is...Stuck, in me. I can't call it out." He lied, but one didn't get as far in a Shinobi's life as he did without learning how to bullshit your way out a situation. "I'm sorry."
"I understand...And I do not. I will not pretend to fathom the Undead, but if what you say is true, perhaps it was too far gone." She whispered forlornly, her shoulders slackening as she slouched in defeat.
"If you want, you can come with me. We could sort all this Abyss business, if you're there it would count as retribution for your friend, yes?" Asked Menma, semi-intent on dealing with this as soon as possible, there was something about this place it...Stirred something deep within him, something the snakes had warned him about in his youth...The warning was so long ago that, his memory was hazy at best, touching his head Menma frowned, he'd died once or twice. Nothing too serious. Was the fading memory of an Undead more serious than he'd initially thought? Or was he just being forgetful, both were possible.
He was far from perfect and not above forgetting a few things now and then, a shame it might have been quite important.
Menma looked to Ciaran who was silent, but nodded. "Yes." She said, "I will enact justice upon the foul beast who did this to him, I will tear it to ribbons." She swore, Menma nodded and got up, sliding his sword back onto his belt and offering a hand, Ciaran stood up on her own but nodded to him.
Hmm, strong woman that had respect for the idea of politeness, good change of pace.
End