WHOA NELLY, I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO FINISH EARLY, BOYS!
Gonna keep the good vibes short this time around as it is incredibly late as I'm wrapping this bad-boy up to post.
Just gonna take a look at...
A few comments that caught my eye
Dragon of Ragnarok- I've read through this entire thing twice since the last update, and I love it. While early chapters felt off to read, it quickly became a stronger story with interesting games on the lore and an evolving cast of characters who can remain in the background without feeling as though they are being neglected, because it makes sense for them to be where they are. Overall a great story, and engaging.
That being said, I have a curiosity and one complaint. The curiosity is how the heck will the prophet's ability to change grow from here? If you give him powers like the Lifehunt or Solaire's dark miracles then it would almost feel redundant, they have gone on an epic quest and mastered themselves to become living legends, but I'm worried that the prophet will simply copy their powers and take away what makes them unique, trivialize their efforts into collecting the power for the prophet to fight whatever final boss of Destiny you'll end up with.
Side note, is it just me or is the prophet's changing soul seem like a less complete version of the First Flame due to it's ability to allow change in an otherwise fixed world.
My only real complaint in the story is the pacing. As far as I can tell, so far everything in the story has happened within a week, but it feels like everyone has been together for months or years. Everything makes sense but the time frame makes everything feel rushed in a way, from relationships to friendships to skill increases. Not an impossible task with the countless life and death situations, but a very unlikely one to have everyone change to the point that they trust the prophet they met days ago over the legends that they had heard for their entire lives.
My Response- Okay firstly, wow. Thank you so much, bro. Always a huge boost to hear that people are loving the story. Also, huge ego boost telling me that you read it twice at that. Now as to your questions, I want to say that there is absolutely no need to worry about the Prophet suddenly learning his pals abilities. I personally think storytelling like that is just lazy and, as you said, redundant. So you can go ahead and drop those sort of expectations.
As to the Prophets soul, I absolutely can not say to much about it or it would spoil what I have in mind. I'll just drop a hint and say that your right, but also completely wrong. Leaving it at that. :)
And lastly, regarding pacing, I try to keep things from making the Prophet seem like a Gary Stu and having people outright trusting him, but given the sate of the world and the fact that things are in as shitty as state that they are, I like to think that the Prophet goes that extra mile for others. And his kindness stands a bit outside of the norm. As for the legends that everyone should trust more than him, I will say that i think of it as being different in the world of Lordran as their "Legends" and their gods are physical real and can be interacted with. Their more like famous kings. And with the terrible state of the world, its not all that strange that humans would think to question their legends decisions and place a little faith in the Prophet.
Hope that answered your questions, bro.
Alfa0306- YEEEEESSS FINALLY! I'm so happy this finally happened and I cannot wait for the next one.
If the prophet is getting even more OP then he is currently why not give him the ability to use that magic altering shit to just straight up stop time, and if you have to nerf that then make it Dio-esk.
My Response- I'm sorry this, but...NO TIME MAGIC!
I honestly can't stand that complete cop-out powers like time magic. That kinda stuff should be reserved for the highest tier of unknown beings like Manus or they abyss itself. But giving it to the Prophet just opens up the door for a whole lot of shenanigans. The only way I would probably consider it is if it had some hard hitting repercussions on him, like outright shredding his soul or having the goddamn First Flame try to erase him since its the reining authority on time itself...actually those sound pretty awesome, but still time magic is a definite no go, bro. Sorry.
Guest- I like how as soon as things start to get steamy the prophet breaks ranks and tries to clamjam Priscilla lol
My Response- I'll just say whats a good story if things don't go off the rails every once in a while. :)
Thats all I got to say this time around, bro's. Hope you guys and gals enjoy the newest chapter of the story.
Warning: While reading this chapter, Lewding of Priscilla is strictly prohibited. Any caught violating this rule will be met with a Whiterun guard that will find you and shout "Stop right there, criminal scum!" in a very dramatic fashion. You have been warned.
It had been a few days since. Two? Three? The Prophet couldn't be sure. The hours blurred along at a dizzying pace, a steady routine appearing before him. Wrapping him up and letting him lose himself in a state of constant focus and combat. Having Priscilla watch his back lifted a weight off his shoulders, occasionally thinning the numbers of his enemies silently when she thought the number were growing too great.
A set routine settled in.
Deep red stains marked their path for miles on end. The Prophet, wreathed in shadow and magic, easily danced between the hollows and crows. With each step he took, with every movement he made, another body fell to the earth and a new stain of red was left behind. Spears were quick to meet the crows from above and impale their bodies, broken swords composed of magic slide between rib cages and slit throats without hardly making a sound made.
But more impressively….
Though the act could not be seen due the use of his cloak, the Prophet was currently doing all this with his eye's closed.
He'd grown quite accustomed to the use of his new magic. It wasn't as if it worked was an alarm or anything, he had to focus and consciously choose to use it. It basically the same as using his Pyromancy to create illusions, only his sorcery worked to make him more keenly aware of every movement around him.
Relying solely on this trick, he was more than capable of fighting the creatures of the painting without his eyesight.
By this point, their numbers simply could not close the gap in strength, skill or versatility. Not even close. By the time any one hollow even lifted their weapons to strike, the Prophet had already killed them and moved on to the next. It became apparent to him some time ago that fighting these creatures had now become less about practice and training, and more about them simply being in the way.
Eventually, their numbers thinned. There simply weren't any more enemies left in the area to fight.
He stood amongst a trail of corpses, his armor and hands stained with fresh blood, and looked to the sky to the tower that marked his way in the distance.
"Closing in. Won't be long till we reach the exit now. An hour…maybe two and then-."
His words were caught in his throat as a presence suddenly came within his magic. It walked from directly behind him at a calm pace, but he made no move to intercept it.
Soon enough, an unseen pair of arms gently wrapped themselves around him
"Were you trying to surprise me, Cil? I'm sorry to say you're gonna have to give it a better go than that." The Prophet asked in a joking manner, not exactly sure how to react to her impromptu hug.
"My aim was to get thy attention. This felt like an effective way to do it...and it feels right." The Crossbreed replied softly.
"Yeah, well, you gotta know its pretty dangerous for you to just walk up like that. I know my sorcery has an effect on you. Not to mention you're walking around with a scythe made of what I'm assuming is pure anti-life." The Prophet said plainly. "That just spells trouble no matter how you look at it, ya know".
"I do not deny these claims…but thou knew I was approaching. If it were thy wish to avoid my embrace, then thou could have moved. Clearly, thou must not have minded the danger I bring." Priscilla countered as she tightened her hold that much further.
At this, the Prophet opened his mouth to voice a counter argument, but none came to mind. It was clear to both of them that she was not wrong in her thinking.
Even if her tail wasn't currently swaying in a pleased manner and she didn't hold him the way that she did, the Prophet wouldn't have missed the change in the crossbreed. She had taken his advice to heart and had fully began to accept and follow her own desires.
That included giving him a small hug if she felt it was the right thing to do.
"Thou hath been fighting for quite some time now, Prophet. I think thou should rest momentarily." Priscilla said softly.
"Rest? I've barely broken a sweat over these things. Besides, we're so close to-"
"Please? Just for a moment?"
She took a cheap shot and delivered the words in a gentle, pleading tone. One that she knew he could not bring himself to say no too. She even went so far as to bring him closer within her fur, something she knew without a doubt that he would enjoy.
Her tactics appeared to have the intended effect as the Prophets sighed, relaxed his body and he reeled in his sorcery.
"Alright. Just for sec though." he said aloud, causing Priscilla to release her hold and allow him to walk to the nearest building.
Blowing it open using his pyromancy, the two companions walked inside, were greeted with the familiar sight of an empty room and made their way to the furthest wall from the door.
The prophet leaned against the wall and slide himself down to the ground pleasantly. Being undead, he technically didn't need to sleep, eat or drink anything to function. I essence, he could have kept up his current pace for as long as his willpower held out. But he had to admit that getting off his feet after days of fighting felt like heaven.
Almost without making a sound, Priscilla leaned her weapon against the wall and followed the Prophets lead. Taking a seat on the ground directly next to him.
There was an awkward silence for the first few minutes as neither of them could think of what to say to the other. But eventually, they did give talking a try.
"Cil-"
"Prophet-"
At precisely the same time, they both worked up the nerve to say something only for each of their words to cut the other off as their eyes to met directly. They stared back at each other for what seemed like hours until he finally dropped his gaze.
"Heh, jeez. Considering we're in a place where everything wants to kill us, its kinda funny we make time to be embarrassed about a little kiss." The Prophet said, deciding to just say things outright instead of beading around the bush. Though he knew that downplaying it as just a "Little Kiss" was a bit of a stretch.
"I-Indeed. We are close to reaching the end of the painting. We should focus on that and rejoice. Our brief moment of affection should be the furthest thing from our minds." Priscilla said in agreement. Her voice was quieter now, less sure. She looked back up at him; a gentle flush of pink had arisen in her cheeks that made her look vulnerable.
The Prophet held his breath as he turned his eye's back up and met hers once more. There was a moment of pause between them as the memory and the sensations they both felt with one another simply came rushing to the surface, prompting them both to blush and look away once more.
The prophet knew that it was best to bring up a different subject to get away from this awkwardness.
"Uh…So how have you been feeling with letting your powers flow freely? Has it helped?"
"Oh. Yes, I believe so. It feels very pleasant to simply release them." The crossbreed said just as grateful for the change of subject as the Prophet. "Though I must admit that I am yet uneasy to release them for long. I still see my power only as a means to harm others, even if it does feel natural to allow them to bloom. I try to convince myself that it is not true and that they are a part of me, just as thou said, but It is not easy."
"Those feelings are natural, Cil. A lifetime of pain isn't laid to rest without a little time." The Prophet told her, not wanting to let the matter weigh on her shoulder to much. "The important thing is that you'v chosen to try and move forward. You take much time as you need to figure out the rest."
At this, the crossbreed found herself smiling ever so slightly.
"Heh, we are practically the end of this prison, Prophet. Soon we will be of the outside world. Yet thou speaks that I may take all the time I need?" Priscilla question in an amused manner. "Doth thou not believe that I should quicken my pace in acceptance? After all, thou expects a battle soon after our we achieve our freedom."
"You let me worry about that. My plan was never to have you fight anyone anyway. Your nature makes that a way to dangerous option to take, since I'm not going to try and kill anyone." The Prophet said in a matter a fact tone. "Not to mention that if any of them tried to lay a hand on you, I'd have to show them what a real monster looks like. Probably best to avoid that outcome."
Hearing this, call her a romantic, but Priscilla genuinely loved to hear him talk about her like that. It warmed her heart to know that he cared what happened to someone like her. Despite her being an abomination, despite her powers and her lack of control, he still cared.
The feeling brought about a question to her mind.
"Prophet….Do you sometimes regret being the way you are?" the crossbreed asked gently out of the blue.
"The way I am?"
"Its just…Thou were sent here because thy posed a danger. Because thou are what thy are. I am asking do thou ever wished that things were different. That you were different?" the crossbreed asked curiously. "If thou could change it, if thou could live another life, would thou wish it so?"
The prophet didn't need long to form an answer, but still he did not reply immediately. He let the question linger between them, knowing full well that there was more attached to it that what was given at face value.
"Hm. Though this life of mine hasn't been easy and there's been a lot of pain along the way….I don't think I'd want to change it in the slightest." The Prophet replied simply.
"But why? Thou art imprisoned within this dead plane, thou will have to fight that much further when thy escapes, all while death hovers at every turn waiting for thee to misstep. Yet thou doth not wish for things to be different?"
"No. Because alongside all that hardship, I've gained things I wouldn't want trade for a thousand new lives. Trust me, If being sent here and going through all these battle are what it takes to get that happy ending with the one's I care about, then it will all have been more than worth it." The Prophet said with a smirk and a casual shrug. "Heh, and hey, being sent here's not so that bad. After all, it gave me the chance to meet you, didn't it?"
At this, Priscilla remained silent, unable to find the words to appropriately respond. Soon enough, she gave up on trying and merely cast her gaze downward in clear contemplation at what she'd just heard. As if she needed a moment to think and make sense of it.
After giving her a moment to think, the Prophet posed a question of his own.
"Priscilla, what do you want outside of the painting?" he asked curiously.
"What…do I want?" the crossbreed said in a perplexed tone, as if the question was entirely foreign to her.
"Yeah. It's still a bit of a mystery to me what you plan to do once we get out. So I'm curious to know what the big fluff Priscilla wants in the outside world." The Prophet said with interest in his tone.
It was strange to think that even as she was being asked this question directly and she knew that any answer would have been acceptable, the crossbreed truly had no reply ready to give outright. She had to dig deep, repeat the question again and again to herself before she came upon a clear answer.
"If I may speak my desire….then I would wish to see my father again."
This answer managed to surprise the Prophet. Of everything he expected to here, that answer wasn't on the list.
"Your father…So you want revenge then?"
"Nay. Despite everything he's done to me…he is still my father. I do not wish for revenge or seek retribution upon him." The crossbreed said solemnly. She stood by her words, but she would be lying if she said they did not leave a bad taste on her lips. "I just….I wish to know the truth of why he did it all. Of what could have been so important that he would harm me for it."
"I see. That's a well-meaning goal, Priscilla. It takes a big person to not hold hate in their hearts." The Prophet said, wanting to encourage her to hold strong to this sort of thinking. He believed that though she could not be faulted if it was revenge she wanted, seeking out and killing her own dad would undoubtably scar her forever.
"And that not all that I wish.…I want to know of my mother as well." Priscilla exclaimed, this time gaining a bit of passion in her tone. "I may be of dragon blood, but that is not all that I am. I want to know who she was and why she did not care enough to reveal herself even once. If I am her daughter, then she should have been there for me. To listen, to understand and provide guidance to me, to realize the pain that I was going through. Is that not what mothers are for? Am I not owed the opportunity to at least speak with her?"
"Hell yeah you are. A daughter wanting to see her mother is more than expected. You deserve to know where she's been all this time and her reasons for not being there when you needed her." the Prophet said, agreeing wholeheartedly with her wish to meet her mother.
Haring his words of encouragement loud and clear, Priscilla's eyes gained a sort of sharpness to them. Not that of hatred or frustration, but that of resolve.
But then, without any sort of prompting, the look in her eye's changed to one of surprise. She turned her gaze down at her own hand in an confused manner before speaking once again.
"Prophet…I feel strange." Priscilla said in a mesmerized fashion as a tingling feeling trailed through her body.
Hearing this, the Prophet was quick to deduce that it might have been something going on with her powers. A breakthrough.
"That's good! Strange is good! Hold on to that feeling and don't let it slip away." He instructed as he turned his body towards her.
"*Gasp* Oh! Right!" Priscilla said, suddenly realizing herself what was going on. Her powers were responding to her desires and doing…."something". She panicked internally at this realization, even more so when felt the tingling began to slip back beneath the surface.
"Mhm. I don't know how to…"
No. That would not do. The Prophet could see from her expression that she was losing it. He had to say something to help her maintain whatever this was.
"Thinks happy thoughts, Priscilla." He encouraged. "Think about what you want and what makes you happy. You can do it. I know you can."
Priscilla closed her eyes and scrunched her brow in concentration as she sought to maintain this tingling within her. Her cute and quite frankly very pretty appearance was not marred by this. Silver eyes were hidden from his sight, but her pale, flawless figure was still a sight to take in.
"Flowers…" Priscilla said softly. "Warm green fields to sleep in. Taking long naps. I love climbing great tree's. I love the feeling of a warm breeze upon my fur. Even if I have yet to try one, I know I would love to taste a Pean-apple. (Pineapple)"
A small, joyous laugh slipped out of his mouth. Yes. This was what she needed. These were the kinds of thoughts she needed to think. She needed to get in touch with the things what she wanted beyond this place. Not only to help her now, but to allow her to find joy in thinking of the future. To help her know that she could have a life of her own and that she didn't have to be alone inside this painting.
The Prophet was surprised when the woman at his side reached down and placed her hand in his. She released a gentle sigh before squeezing, moving close enough that their bodies were touching. She placed her tail around his waist, holding him against the softness of her furred dress.
"I love spending time you." She continued. "I love sleeping next to you. I love it when you praise me for being who I am. Could you please praise me, Prophet?"
The human felt his heart racing in his chest from the sudden physical action of Priscilla. Even more so when took she took it a step further and interlocked her fingers with his own. It was hardly the most intimate he been with her, but when combined with what she was saying…. He wanted nothing more than to stay like this with stock white crossbreed.
If it would help her gain more control…
The Prophet returned the hold on her hand as he spoke. "I think you're incredible, Priscilla." He whispered gently. "You're so kind and sweet. You're the best friend I even could have asked for."
It was the truth.
He would not make excuses about the danger of the world influencing him or any other such circumstance. The Prophet had developed a fondness for the crossbreed. He liked being close to her like this and he like having her hand in his. This much he could admit to himself.
But how far his affection for her ran...the Prophet didn't want to think it too much for now. He'd long since learned to accept that it was okay to not have all the answers. Sometimes it was best to let them come in time.
These thoughts were driven from his mind as a familiar feeling eased along his hand. It was the cold chill of Lifehunt…but something was clearly different this time. He could feel it on his body, enveloping his person, but he didn't feel like he was weakening.
Priscilla tightened her hold on his hand and looked at him with shining silver eyes. The sweetest smile imaginable was a plastered on her lips.
"You really mean it?" she asked hopefully. There was no trace of struggle or effort on her face.
She still maintained a vise grip on his hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I do." He said with a nod and smile of his own. "Look at you. You're doing it. You're using you powers without hurting me."
In a flash, Priscilla's head dipped down, taking in her hold on him and the feeling of Lifehunt flowing across her body. "I am…" she whispered. "I am! I'm doing it! Its not hurting you!"
The prophets heart swelled with pride at this victory. And he made no mistake about it, this was a victory. Not for him or for the outside world. No, this was a victory for Priscilla. For her own happiness and well-being. For her own chance to break free from her misery and live her own life. If he could help facilitate that, then being sent too this prison was more than worth it.
"You're doing it," he agreed happily. "Told you there was another side. How do you feel?"
"I-I feel very warm all over. And you…I can feel thy essence with so much more clarity. This feels wonderful!" she said, overwhelmed with joy at the discovery within herself.
She came back to him, releasing his hand only to pull him into a bone crushing embrace. Both her arms came around his torso, and if not for his armor, he wasn't so sure that his spine would have survived her happiness overload.
"It feels like your body is a beacon. One with a sweet aroma that's permeating all around it. My goodness!" she said a she snuggled her cheek against his cheerfully.
"U-Ugh, right. Does this mean you don't feel the urge to want eat me anymore?" the Prophet asked hopefully.
"Heh, heh, yes, I very much still feel it. If anything, I think its made it even more tempting. Thou smells of the sweetest honey." Priscilla responded without missing a beat as she pressed him that much closer to her body, her immense joy not giving out in the slightest. "Thank you, Prophet. Thank you."
Was that the result of this big discovery? Not only did she still want to consume his essence, but now she could "smell" him?
"Meh. Whatever." the Prophet thought immediately, deciding not to make a big deal about the little details.
What else could he do but return her hug? It wasn't just for show, nor was it done out of obligation. He was happy for her. He wanted to make her feel warm and loved. He wanted to stoke the embers of whatever it was she'd just discovered within herself.
Priscilla was positively ecstatic. She was using her powers completely without restraint and the Prophet wasn't dying. It was like they were embracing his essence, acknowledging that he was another presence but not consuming him.
She dived head long into this feeling, this proof that she was more than just death and hunger.
Unfortunately, however, she simply had no idea of the true depth of her own power.
Without her meaning for it to do so, Priscilla's ability rapidly began to increase in intensity. Surging unrestrained, it extended farther and farther until her presence covered the entire room….then the entire building….then the next three buildings….then the next twelve….then the next three blocks.
Further and further it reached. The well of strength within her seemingly knowing no end.
Until finally….
"Oh no…"
Suddenly, Priscilla's body became as stiff as a statue. Looking up her, the Prophet was beyond confused as to way her smile had dropped off the face of the earth and was now replaced with wide eyed alarm.
"What's wrong?" the Prophet asked.
"We need to leave! We need to leave right now!" Priscilla said in a newfound panic as she released the Prophet, retrieved her scythe and quickly moved toward the door.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on. What's got you freak out?" the Prophet asked, now more alert but still confused.
"There's no time! I felt them and they felt me!"
"Who felt you?"
"ALL OF THEM! THEY'RE ALL COMING!"
Suddenly, as if to complement her fear and panic, a resounding echo of what could only be described as hundreds of voices crying out at once reached both of their ears.
It took the Prophet mere moments to put together what an assumption of what had happened.
"Did you…?" the prophet started before his eye's sharply turned towards the door.
With only a moment's hesitation, he quickly moved forward and blew the door off its hinges before making his way outside.
The night sky was pitch black without a single star in sight, but he could make out what was coming. They moved as one, those one the ground and those in they sky, as if they were of one mind. Each one moving closer and closer towards them.
"No time to dawdle!" Was all Priscilla said before grabbing the Prophets arm and sprinting forward with him in tow. He probably had a small understanding that they were in danger, but she was fully aware of what she had just done.
Those that hold no true will of their own are innately drawn to Priscilla with far more ease than others. If the hollows or the crows were near enough, they would be driven to seek her out like bloodhounds. But if she was hidden far away enough, they had nothing to be drawn too.
So when Priscilla extended her presence for miles upon miles on end, and it reached these empty minded bloodhounds, it would be easy for anyone to guess what the result would be.
With both of them using their own abilities to hide their bodies, the two companions ran with reckless abandon toward the exit of the painting.
"Heh, heh, wow. Not even five minutes with your new powers and you mess up this bad? Way to go, Cil." The Prophet laughed heartily as he sprinted alongside her.
"Its not my fault! I didn't know that would happen!" she cried as she bounded through the snow.
With each step they took, the sound of approaching boots on the cold ice was like the warning thunder of a coming storm. With each cold breath they inhaled, countless wing beat across the air and were closing in quickly. But neither of them stopped to see how far they were. They were so close to the end. A handful of miles, tops. The tower that marked the way was practically already in front of them. They knew just had to keep running and they could make it.
But then, a feeling familiar Priscilla and the Prophet both knew intimately crawled up their spines. Causing both of their eyes to widen.
Without saying a word, the Prophets eyes hardened, and he projected his magic around him. This feeling…this sensation of a ringing in his ears, he knew it. He remembered it.
He hated it.
Rising in his body like a deadly poison was a deep sense of frustration and rage. He couldn't remember why, but his instinct screamed at him to search and keep searching for the root causing of this feeling and annihilate every trace of it.
"Where?...Where are you?!" he found himself thinking through narrowed eyes as he used his magic as well as his eyes to search all around him. But what was he even looking for? What's got him so heated and angry?
It was only when an immense flaming light came flying right towards them from a passing pathway did he get an answer.
With his magic, the Prophet was able to comprehend that he was being attacked with mere moments left to react. It was just enough time for him to be able to evade it.
The problem, however, was that there wasn't enough for Priscilla. She did not have the same magical awareness he did and was still firmly focused only on running. The very moment he chose to dive dodge the light, she would catch the full force of the attack.
So throwing away the brief moment to escape that he had, the Prophet a curse beneath his breath and used his body to shield her.
BOOSH
A blinding flash erupted from the point where the ball of flame struck, and a white cloud rose in the air. The explosion was enough to send both the Prophet and the crossbreed flying back through the air, before gravity realized its job and the crash harshly into the snow-covered earth.
Priscilla groaned as the dizziness in her eyes and the ringing in her ears cleared. All at once, she realized what just happened and hastily turned her head in search of the human who had taken the great blow in her place.
His cloak held red traces of what looked like fresh molten lava. As he slowly made his way to his knees, groaning in pain all the way, he raised his right arm and Priscilla could not suppress a sharp gasp as she saw that he had suffered deep and horrific burns on one half of his body.
Turning her eye's back to where the attack originated, the crossbreed felt her heart swell with fear as a man composed entirely of a red aura approached them both without fear.
He an assortment of thick cloths wrapped around his arms and legs, leaving his midriff exposed to the elements. In one hand he held a whip that was lined with a multitude of jagged and painful looking spikes. While the other hand seemed to rage with a deep red flame that dripped with fresh magma.
However, the most eye-catching thing about this strange red being was the immense and towering swath of cloth that enveloped his head. It was almost as big as it whole body, yet the red man seemed to have no trouble maneuvering with it.
"Oh no. Prophet, we need too ru-" her word caught in her throat instantly.
The person the Prophet had once been was gone. Instead of the soft gaze that promised laughter and easy banter, his yellow eyes glared with an intensity that tightened Priscilla's chest.
FWOOOOSH
As if the burns meant nothing to him, the Prophet stood to his feet as dark flames trailed along his scorched body. Within seconds, they had devoured the sight of his burned right arm and began to dance along the body of his cloak.
"…You..." the Prophet growled with a hatred that could not be concealed. There was no mistaking it, he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that this person composed of a bloody red aura was the reason why. He'd fought this this before, he'd….chased him down. All the way to the city to stop him. Because…because he stole something from Anna? No…He wanted to kill her and take what was inside her!
The pieces of the puzzle seemed to find their own place within his mind. Ever so slowly, the Prophets mind began to remember that which was forgotten….except what he came up with was as far from the truth as one could imagine.
Without his knowledge to tell him that there were countless Red Phantoms roaming the world, the Prophets began to blame this phantom in particular for all the suffering that had happened.
In his fragmented mind, this phantom was the reason for it all. He was the one who wanted to kill Anastacia, he was the one that had butchered and killed his way into the city, he the one who killed him and forced Velka to murder her own to keep him alive.
Every single thing, all the bullshit the Prophet had to go through, was completely and utterly placed on this phantoms shoulder.
Needless to say, it brought about a hatred in the Prophet so deep that it simply couldn't be described with words.
At that very moment, a veritable army of hollows could be seen charging from the path they'd come from like a pack of rabid animals. Above them, the crows foamed at the mouth and flapped their wings without rhyme or reason.
And it the nightmare didn't stop there.
Walking directly from the path of the exit, a titan of a knight clad from head to toe in heavy steel armor strode towards them. In its left hand was a large and thick great shield that was big enough to conceal its entire body behind it. In its right was a sword so great that Priscilla could swear it would easily cleave stone with a single strike.
"Prophet, we can't stay here! There are too many of them!" the crossbreed cried, seeing that their chance for escape was growing narrower by the second.
"Then go!" the Prophet shouted angrily; startling even her.
"What?! You cannot-"
"These two won't let us go without a fight and one of them can see me when I'm hidden. If they slow us down long enough, we will both be surrounded. I'll draw all of their attention and follow after." The prophet explained. Much to Priscilla's disbelief.
Nearly the entirety of the monsters within the Painted World were bee-lining as fast as they could directly to their location, and he wanted to stay and create a distraction? Had he lost his mind? He may be able to handle a great deal of them, but to fight an entire army of them on his own was more than even he could handle.
She would not allow him to just die like this.
"Prophet-"
"Priscilla, listen to me! There's a spell. One only Velka knows. It'll drain a lot out of her, but it'll transport me out of here in an instant, safe and sound." The Prophet said suddenly, much to the crossbreeds surprise. "Leave! Find Velka! Tell her I said "I'm ready now and to use the spell!""
Priscilla froze at what she'd just been told. This information was so sudden that she wasn't sure what she should do with it.
It was only when the Red Phantom willed forth a ball of intensely red flame and the Prophet mimicked the action by summoning a one of black fire, did she snap to attention.
"GO!"
BOOOSH
The two pyromancers threw their attacks at the same time, causing the two opposing pyromancies to collide and violently erupt in the air.
The pillar of fiery smoke and dust provided more than enough cover to allow the crossbreed to pick herself up from the ground, hide her body within her magic and run directly past the great shield wielding knight. Just as it moved forward to attack the Prophet himself.
And so, it was that she fled on her own.
The snow-covered earth blurred beneath her feet as a surge of adrenaline fueled her body. The steady thump of her footsteps echoed in her ears as tears began to well up in her eyes.
She had just left her one friend to die alone while she ran away to save herself.
"No. The spell. Velka will be able to save him. I just have to reach her and tell her to us it. He's counting on me." The Crossbreed said as she forced her legs to push harder.
The crossbreed covered the remaining distance in a matter of minutes. Her caves began to burn, her breath came in short gasps and began forming clouds in the air behind her invisible form. What was once footsteps had long since turned into great bounds.
Soon enough, she had finally managed to arrive at the structure, which turned out to be a sort of crumbling bridge, that held the path to freedom.
Not halting her pace even for a moment, she charged through and made her way directly to the end of it. Once she was there, now face to face with the sole path to the outside world, the crossbreed stopped in her tracks just at the edge.
It wasn't so easy to simply take that final step. Even more so to take it alone. What waited for her on the outside, all the death she had brought when she was free before and a multitude of other things stayed her movement.
But suddenly, far off in the distance, the sound of what could only be an explosion reached her ears. Causing her eyes to widen in fear and her jaw to clench, before finally she made her choice.
She stepped forward, scythe in hand, and plunged down from the cliff into the fogged portal below.
Anor Londo
The transition to the outside world was a seamless one.
One moment she felt that she was falling with the wind rushing past her ears and across her body, then next she was standing upon a marble floor of some kind of cathedral.
Her eye's swept all over as she marveled at the reality what she'd just done.
"I...I'm free." She said deftly as she took it all in and a new feeling came over her.
Inherently, due the influence of the First Flame, the world was composed of life. Everything within it, including the very air she breathed, pulsed with an essence. Without meaning too, her body reacted to the feeling of being surrounded by this life and her inborn hunger began to rise to the surface to sample a portion of the essence of the world.
It was by no fault of her own that she felt this way. By her very nature, it was something she could hardly help feeling.
However, there was something that made the hunger far less influential than it had ever been before.
The essence around her felt so…stale.
Being separate from the outside world for so long should have instilled a strong desire for the worlds essence. It should have felt like a succulent a flavorful meal to her. But at that moment, Priscilla felt as if she was tasting a plate of dry cracks. The worlds essence tasted so bland. Pathetic, even.
Once again, without any instruction from the crossbreed herself, her body sought out an essence feeling it had long since learned to crave. One that was unique in it make, one that spoke to her urges perfectly.
"The Prophet…" the Crossbreed said as she snapped back to the reason she was in such a hurry in the first place and ignored the feeling of attaining her freedom for now. Not wasting a second more, she ran to the opposite end of the room and found that there was a door that lead outside to a massive spiral staircase.
Wasting little time, she glided up the staircase with ease until she reached the apex. Only to find that at the top stood a view of a building so massive that it made her eye's go wide with surprise.
"Its too big. I could spend hours wondering this place and still not find her. If she even is inside." Priscilla thought to herself hopelessly. That is, until she came upon an idea. "My powers…I could feel those beasts from a great distance before and I could recognize the Prophets essence. I must do the same for Velka and find her. I have too."
Raising her hand in front of her and unveiling her power without restraint, the crossbreed closed her eye's and pleaded with them to do as she asked.
But nothing happened. She could only feel her hunger, placing her back at square one in using her abilities.
She didn't have time for this. She now knew for certain that her power could be different than it was. That she was more than just her desire to consume life. She had to tap into ir the prophet was going to die.
So taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, she relaxed herself. Willing away all of the panic that plagued her thought, she put her mind at ease and focused only on the feeling of her power flowing through her body.
She had always seen herself as a creature of death and destruction. But this time would different. This time she would not be the monster or abomination of the story. This time she would be a savior. One that would not allow her fear to hold her back anymore and would fight to gain her happiness.
Holding on to feelings such as these and believing in them with all her heart, the crossbreed opened her silver eye's and put her faith fully into the other side of her Lifehunt.
Within a long stretching hall of one of many gilded buildings within Anor Londo, a woman bearing black wings on her back spoke to one of the knights who bore the title of Darkmoon Blade.
"My Lady, the Iron Golem has fallen. The humans will arrive within the Upper levels momentarily." A knight reported earnestly.
"Good. You all know what must be done now. Stay out of the way and allow Lord Gwyndolin to place obstacles before them." The goddess of Sin instructed. "Inform the men to stay away, no matter what they hear. If anyone should disobey this order, know that I will deliver their punishment personally."
"What of Seath's abominations, My Lady? The roam the grounds and will heed orders from none, save Lord Gwyndolin." The Knight asked.
"Do not concern yourself with them. They too will be used as test for the humans. Your only concern is ensuring that none of the men interfere with their trial. Understood?"
"Understood, Lady Velka." The knight said before turning on a heel and moving to spread the orders given to him.
As she watched him walk away and move out of sight, the goddess released a breath to calm herself.
"They defeated the Golem with far more ease than I thought. Oscar certainly does not aim to disappoint. This is good though. Lord Gwyndolin will not see them as a true threat initially. While they provide a distraction, I must find a way to get close enough to-" the goddess thought stopped instantly as the faint sound of footsteps running towards her reach her ears.
"WHO'S THERE!"
SHWOOOSH
Moving quickly, Velka swiped one of her winds through the air and delivered a small flare up of black pyromancy. Her intent being to make her unseen visitor reveal their position.
Needless to say, her efforts were very successful as a feminine yelp and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor sounded through the hall.
"Wait! Please stop, I mean you no harm!" A woman's voice said hastily as a large white furred form revealed itself to Velka momentarily, causing the goddess to gasp in surprise before averting her gaze.
"You! Impossible! You were sealed within-" and just like that, as if a switch had been flipped, Velka made the quick assumption as to how a creature like Priscilla was free. Without explaining herself, she began to scan the hall for any disturbance within the air, looking for any indication that her champion was concealing himself. "Prophet? Are you here?"
"He is not here. The prophet is still trapped within the painting." Priscilla said as she stood back up to her feet, ignoring the small amount of singed fur on her body. "He told me to tell you that he is ready now. That you can set him free."
At this, Velka expression turned to one of confusion.
"What? What are you talking about?" the goddess question, not understanding the meaning behind the message.
"The Prophet is ready now. You need to use the spell to summon him and set him free from the painting." The crossbreed said frantically. "Hurry! There is no time to waste!"
Once again, Velka could only give a look of complete confusion before speaking words that would make Priscilla's heart drop to the pit of her stomach.
"I don't know what your talking about. No such spell or magic exist that would let me do that." Velka said plainly with a shake of her head, causing the crossbreeds eye's to shoot wide as she shook her head in disbelief.
"No…Your lying! You have to know it!" Priscilla said, feeling angry at the new sense of helplessness she felt. "He said you could help! He told me you could get him out! He-"
It was then that realization suddenly dawned upon her. The truth of what the prophet had actually done.
"…He lied so I would leave him behind…" the crossbreed said deftly as the reality hit her fully.
A spell to transport him out of the Painted World? Was she an idiot? Had she been so afraid and panicked that she could not see such an obvious lie for what it was?
Her eyes shifted to the side again and became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. That was it then. Because of her the Prophet was going to die. Because she was not careful with her powers, because she had called all those monsters to them, because she did not stop and think for one second that he was tricking her, she was never going to see him again.
She had just killed the one person who believed in her
She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth; her heart sank.
Her lower lip quivered as words slowly made their way out of her mouth. "N-..No…That's not fair…He…" She began, yet what followed was engulfed in the tremors as her mind repeated again and again that she had killed him. It was a cold finality that followed behind these thoughts, telling her that her mistake was set in stone.
The sobs were stifled at first as she attempted to contain the pain that she was feeling. Then overcome by the wave of her emotion, she would break down entirely, all her defenses washed away in tears and helplessness.
Soon enough, she found her legs giving out beneath her as she fell to her knee's and resigning herself to her sorrow, hurting all the more as she dwelled on the firm knowledge that he had given his life to give a monster like her a chance to escape.
Seeing the crossbreed being brought to tears regarding something that had seemingly happened to the Prophet, Velka could feel her own concern rising in her chest. But she forced herself remain calm and collected.
Until she saw his unmoving body with her own eye's, she would never believe that he would have died on her.
And so, the Goddess stepped forward and kneeled next to the crying crossbreed. Taking care not to cast her gaze directly upon her.
"Calm down. I want to do everything in my power to help the Prophet, but we can do little for him if we do not keep hold of ourselves." Velka said plainly in a collected tone. "Do not think to give up hope on him just yet."
Hearing this, Priscilla looked up at the goddess that was trying to reassure her. She was right. Shedding tears and losing hope should be the last thing she should think to do right now. The Prophet was strong and had fought many of those creatures at once before. There were many more this time and he was injured…but still, there was a chance. There was still hope. She just needed to remain strong and believe in him.
Taking a few moments to instill these thoughts into herself, Priscilla wiped the tears from her eyes and spoke calmly her mind.
"R-Right. What are we to do then?" Priscilla asked, trying to will away any sadness that remained in her voice.
"First, you must conceal yourself and follow me. My former lords eye's are everywhere. Once we are in a more secure location, then we can figure something out." Velka instructed as she raised herself up from her kneeling position, turned around and proceeded to make her way down the hall. Only picking up her pace once she was confident that the crossbreed was following behind her.
This was a development was one that the goddess was hard pressed to label as a blessing. This woman, this thing, that Seath had created long ago was by far one of the deadliest creatures she'd ever encountered in her life. It was only thanks to her youth, inexperience with her powers and a bit of preemptive action that they were able to contain her in the first place.
"So of course the Prophet found a way to make nice with her and see to her release. Likely not having a single clue of the true danger she could bring upon the world." The goddess thought with a sigh. "But this is fine. She does not seem to seek any revenge and wishes to help the Prophet. That makes us allies…at least for now."
At this point, she knew that worrying about the danger Priscilla posed would be a waste of time. There were far more urgent matters that required her attention at the moment. But of course, she would find a way to make the time to gain insight on the Prophets current condition.
Leading the crossbreed further inside the building and towards her own personal chambers, Velka kept an eye out for any illusion her lord might use to discover what she was doing. Luckily, finding none.
Eventually, the two came up a door which Velka promptly opened and gestured for the crossbreed to move inside. After feeling her presence walk past her, Velka followed into the room and quickly moved toward a large window that was inside of it.
Covering opening with the silken drapes and using her pyromancy to light a few candles, the two were now able to talk freely without worry.
"Now, we have little time until the others get here and the battle begins. But I need a full understanding of what's going on to grasp the situation fully, so do not spare me a single detail." Velka said as Priscilla revealed herself and she turned upon her person.
"Tell me everything that has happened within the Painting and what has happened to the Prophet."
EVERYBODY HOLD IT! JUST HOLD IT AND LET ME SAY JUST A QUICK WORD!
Okay, so we're finally getting things moving and a whole heap of shit just got thrown the Prophets way.
Firstly, I want to say that what I plan to do with the whole Prophet vs the Painting inhabitants (+Jerimiah) is a complete work in progress. All I can say for certain is that its going to be hell of a close fight for him.
Secondly, Yes, as far as the Prophet is concerned, Jermiha is the sole red phantom responsible for his woes. He's all the invading red phantoms, Lautrec and the Darkwraiths wrapped in one package who's ass he wants to kick. So old Jerry might end up getting it the worst out of everyone...as soon as I think of a death creative enough to do the old chaos pyromancer.
Thirdly, regarding the Prophet and Priscilla's relationship, I'm putting it a just about towing the line of it being very romantic. I don't feel like things like these have to be settled in an all or nothing manner. Relationships grow between people, so there's no reason to rush with things. Their in a world were everything is wants them dead and they only had each other. Clearly things aren't all black and white.
Fourthly, regarding Priscilla's power, this is basically only the tip of the spear. Given her unique nature and her powers, I consider Priscilla to be one of the most powerful beings within the Dark Souls universe. Possibly an existence that could even harm the First Flame itself, if she realizes her potential that is. But for now, I feel that being able to discern the locations of certain essences is a good beginner start where she's concerned.
And lastly, I just want to say, I can't be the only one that gets a little excited in thinking that not only does the prophet have the goddess of sin on his side, but he also has a crossbreed that even Gwyn feared helping him out. Even with just those alone, this fight is seeming a lot less one sided than originally thought.
Alrighty then, you fine readers, thats all I got to say this time around.
As always, feel free to leave a review and tell me what you guys thought about this chapter of the story. Was the prophet and Priscilla's interaction together a good development? Was Priscilla's power growth believable? Was the Prophet staying behind a good decision?
Honest opinions are always appreciated as I'm always looking to improve my style of writing to make this story a bit more interesting for you guys. so don't be shy in telling me your thoughts about how things are going so far. Outside opinions will have a huge effect on how this story will play out.
This is Supreme Gamer, Signing out.
P.S. I know I shouldn't, but I gotta say I feel a little bad for the Iorn Golem. Team Oscar vs just him is nothing but overkill. The big man doesn't deserve the curbstomp I'm gonna have to write. ;-;
P.P.S. I'd just like to remind everyone that the most damage the Prophet takes, the stronger his pyromancy becomes. I've literally put him into a position that, by the time he walks out of the painting, our boys gonna be juiced into top-tier. So look forward to that one, guys. Cause I'm definitely not gonna let open season for new pyromancies pass me by.