HOOOOO BOY! HERE WE GO AGAIN!
I finished another chapter for you boys, girls and cats that someone learned to read the English language. So I hope your all ready for another ride on this nutty train I call a story.
Unfortunately, as it is currently five in the morning as I finished writing and checking for mistakes in this chapter, I won't be responding to reviews this time around. (Sleeps calling my name, boys. I'm running on pure stubbornness right now)
Anyways, I hope you guys like this new addition to the story.
Warning: Supreme Gamer is not responsible for any struck by sudden barrages Dragon Slayer arrows. Silver Knights are not his specialty. You have been warned.
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The table around them was set graciously. The meal, likewise, was succulent and mouthwatering.
The main dish at the center of the table was a turkey glazed with a mixture of honey, melted butter, parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme and a pinch of salt and pepper. At its left was steaming bowl of creamy mashed Potatoes with brown gravy poured atop it. Further along the table was fresh cut salad and plate of warm apple pie sat at its right, the scent of its cinnamon aroma bringing forth thoughts of grandma's kitchen. The final product was a mug of grape wine that sat just within reach.
The meal was perfect, and would no doubt be filling.
Sitting at the table and dining on said meal were three individuals.
One was a woman with beauty so amorous that any man she so much as glanced at would swell with a desire for her. The only thing more alluring than her deep brown eyes and her flowing red hair was the loose, flowing white dress she wore that gave a generous view of her bust.
The remaining two were both men whose appearances could not be more opposing.
The one who sat at the very center of the group held a gentle, tender quality usually found in a woman's appearance. With short, pure white hair settling just above his shoulders and the soft, fragile look of his body, he was quite the bewitching sight. Not even the empty and hollow look with his golden eye's was enough to destroy such an attractive visage. The only thing that drew attention away from his looks were the mass of snakes that flowed from beneath his dress.
Sitting directly to his right was a man whose very presence spoke volumes of power and otherworldly strength.
He held the face of an aged man and had an impressively long, grey beard with a full mane of grey hair along his face to match it. His massive frame and muscular stature gave credence to the word titan. An impressive set of royal drapes adorned his body, with gold bands on his arms, and a crown atop his head.
A bit of moonlight and a candlelight was all that kept the room lit.
"Father…would you please pass the salad?" the silver haired man asked softly.
"Of course." The titan of a man replied with an unusually bright, smile before complying with the request.
Placing his hands beneath the bowl and placing it on the table in front of the silver haired man, the large individual watched on as he made no attempt to retrieve it. As such, a deep silence fell upon the group briefly, before the large man spoke up once again.
"Gwyndolin, you mustn't blame yourself." the massive man said sympathetically. "You did everything in your power to protect as many as you could."
"It's best not to dwell upon things and continue moving forward." The red-haired woman said gently. "It will all be worth it in the end."
At hearing this, the silver haired man, now known as Gwyndolin, allowed his gaze to fall low with a look of failure and sorrow.
"Pray tell me, father, so that I may etch it into my heart once more. What is it that we want?" the man asked in a tone that was just above a whisper.
"To see an end to the blight that afflicts our lands. To bring back order and salvation to our people." The massive man said firmly. "It is up to us to ensure that the light does not falter. The burden is heavy, but we will prevail."
Gwyndolin's gaze did not shift in the slightest at hearing this. His eye's remaining cold and devoid of emotion.
"Many have died under my watch. Good men and women, who knew not what it was they even fought for." Gwyndolin said, deep regret and sorrow laced in each word he spoke. "They showed unparalleled honor in giving their lives for our cause….and I cannot even utter a single one of their names."
"Their sacrifice-"
"What sacrifice?! Their deaths gained us nothing!" Gwyndolin interrupted sharply, his eye's never leaving the plate of food that sat in front of him. The silence that followed lasted for a few minutes as he gave himself time to allow his emotions to settle. "Are we…certain this is the right thing to do? All this death and suffering. We aren't even a shadow of our former numbers."
This time, it was the woman who gave an answer to his question.
"You know what happens otherwise." The woman said softly. "It all for the sake of regaining order. We've made decision for the greater good before, now we must make them again. Our people depend on us to stay strong and hold our resolve."
"Our people have long since abandoned the city." Gwyndolin said, the anger in his voice simmering up once again. "How quick they were to flee once their eternally wise king decided to abandon them. In the midst of demon hordes and panicking masses, when we needed you most, you decided to-. How could you think to just leave us?!"
At this, Gwyndolin leveled a hate filled gaze directly toward the massive man at his side. His fist clenched tight and his eye's narrowed as the man before him offered no response to his outburst. Does he have nothing at all to say for himself?
After a few moments more of silence, Gwyndolin blinked once before releasing a tired sigh and relaxing the tension in his body completely.
"...Forgive me. I sometimes forget the extent of my own abilities." the Dark Sun said solemnly. "For a moment, I believed you were actually here to give me answers."
That's right. How could he have been so foolish? His father and sister had long since left the city. What he was doing at this moment was the equivalent of talking to his hand and pretending someone else was responding.
He was alone at this table with nothing but his own illusions to keep him company.
"Just what am I doing?" Gwyndolin asked himself. Though he knew the answer to that question long before he'd even asked it.
He was waiting. Just as he was instructed to do.
He was to wait for a human who was strong enough to make it to Anor Londo, then set trials before them to test their worth. If they made it through his efforts, they were to face Ornstein and Smough in combat to retrieve the Lordvessel. If they were strong enough to best them and retrieve the Lordvessel, then his part in the grand plan would be complete.
This was his duty in the effort to protect order, just as his father did before him. This task was what gave him meaning. It gave him the strength to persevere to the next day. It was his father's last gift to him.
It was his fate.
He was given the Lordvessel. He was told his part in all of this. A part that, though it made him appear inactive, was very much instrumental in the grand scheme of things.
But still, though he knew what was at stake and he knew he could not afford to fall short on his part, he was well aware of the lunacy of it all. The *plan* was based on the hope that a human would even bother fighting to reach the bells, much less to reach Anor Londo. And even if one did make it and persevered through all the challenges before them, Gwyndolin had to wonder why they would trust a powerful tool like the Lordvessel to a human.
They were not like his kind, who understood their place and their purpose in all things.
Humans were being's chaos. They were an ever-changing flame that burns and bites, refusing to take any definite shape. They were a puzzle without a solution. An improbability born out of countless combinations.
They were a flawed and dangerous imperfection. He needed only think back to a few days before to prove his thought true.
It had taken but one lone human sneaking past their defenses and getting inside to bring them to their knees. They had lost almost half of their numbers, he was currently weakened to the point that he could not maintain the illusion of the sun or much of any illusion outside his immediate vicinity and the upper city was in ruins from the battle.
Red Phantoms, an invasion force so massive it nearly covered the entire city, the appearance of the dreaded Darkwraiths.
It went beyond the realm of reason that one insignificant human life was enough to shift things to such an impossible degree. Why was it that instead of fighting tooth and nail for a solution, he was told to stand by and allow these chaotic creatures to take the lead?
That question alone, coupled with the thought that he was weakened to the point that he was only just barely able to maintain the illusions of his family, was even to cause his ire to begin to rise.
RUMBLE
It was then that the very room he sat in shook violently as the familiar sound of a lightning strike echoed through the halls, causing Gwyndolin to quickly dismiss the illusions around him and turn a concerned look to his surroundings.
Before he could even think to question just why there could possibly be such a disturbance inside the building, the door that led out of the dining hall suddenly burst open.
"My lord!" the Soldier shouted as he breathed in and out heavily. It was clear that he had sprinted here from wherever he was.
"What's going on? What was the noise?" Gwyndolin asked without missing a beat.
"We have been infiltrated! A trespasser has made his way into the upper levels!"
"What?! Again?!" Gwyndolin said as he used his snakes to stand himself straight up. "How many?"
"The report spoke of only one. Forces are currently mobilizing to surround and attack him. Captain Ornstein has ordered me to get you too safety while he meets him head on."
RUMBLE
Once again, the room shook with the sound of another explosion causing a bit of dust to fall from the ceiling. Gwyndolin paused for only a moment before retrieving a strange helmet in the image of the sun and placing it on his head.
He then turned towards the soldier and spoke in a cold tone.
"Where was the intruders last know location?"
The Staircase Tower
Allowing the Knight at her side to move the switch to allow the staircase to rotate to the upper levels, Velka thought of visiting the Prophet once more as she took in the soldier field report. With their number as thinned as they were, it became her responsibility to manage their security measures and make the most of what warriors remained.
Of course, this responsibility was shared alongside Ornstein, but it was an unspoken truth that she was his superior.
"What have the scouts discovered?" Velka asked the soldier.
"Nothing concrete, my lady. They only able to reach the location of the disturbance after whatever happened has been settled. But whatever it is, the aftermath is a worrying sight. Buildings turned to piles of rubble, craters along the earth, large patches of burned earth." The Soldier explained with concern. "It is without question the sight of a battle, but whoever fought it seem to vanish just as quickly as they appear."
"Hm. Until we know what exactly we're dealing with, ensure that everyone remains on alert. If an attack is imminent or if some wild demon has wondered in, we will be ready." Velka ordered. "Tell the scouts to continue to seek out the source, but do not intervene if they discover the cause. We don't want to lose anyone fighting on the outskirts. And pass the word to all the soldiers that I want regular check-ins from all positions and patrols every hour. "
With that, the staircase reached its peak and stopped at the foot of an enormous staircase. The goddess began to step off and leave the soldier behind, intent on heading to her usual destination, only for her to be greeted by a very familiar face.
"Oh, my lady. At last." The Cleric said happily. "I have been looking all over for you. The man you told me to watch after, he is-"
"Awake." Velka interrupted. The very second she saw the clerics face did she reach out to sense the location of the Book of the Guilty she knew was still in the Prophets satchel, only to discover that is was on the move inside the very building before her.
The look on her face changed from wide eyed surprise to a smile of boundless joy….
BOOSH
….And then to a look of complete mortification as the very location she sensed he was in sounded with a massive explosion that was heard even from her position on the outside.
It went without question just who the cause of such a disturbance could be.
"Grrr, what could you possibly have done in such a short span of time?" Velka said heatedly as she spread her wings and made her way towards the man whose head she was currently planning to tear off.
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"Hmm..." the Prophet mussed as he peered through one of the many windows that offered a perfect view to the city below. The beautiful sight of the legendary Golden City bathed in the light of the full moon gave him the feeling of gazing at a flawlessly made painting. "This is a beautiful place."
After taking in the sight for a few minutes more, the Prophet continued to make his way down the hallway as he lost himself in his own thoughts.
Everything was hazy and jumbled up in his head at first. But after talking a bit of a stroll, he was able to pick up a few of the pieces. He remembered his fondness and intimacy with Anastacia and Velka, he recalled moments of fighting in a multitude of different place, and he could perfectly recall waking up in the Undead Asylum with the Dark sign imprinted upon him. Everything else was nothing more than shadows, vague gut feelings and faces that he could not bring his mind to pin down.
But the Prophet didn't feel worried or concerned about this.
Quite the opposite, in fact. He was as relaxed as he'd ever been. Sure, he no longer had knowledge of Lordran, its inhabitants, key items of interest or even the slightest hint of how he got here, but he kept the memories of the two woman close to his heart. Why should he be worried?
All things considered, if he was told to choose between forgetting all the information of Lordran and his memories of the two women, he would have chosen Velka and Anastacia in a heartbeat.
"Alright. Time to put Operation All-American Tiger into effect. Phase one: get back in touch with Vel and figure out why I was being bathed in my sleep. Phase two: Find out if this place has what I need to make an apple pie, which as everyone knows is far superior to its cousin, the cherry pie." The Prophet said to himself as he moved at an easygoing pace through the hallway without a care in the world. "A flawless plan if I do say so myself."
The Prophet was fine with speaking of sweet nonsense as he allowed his gut to lead his way forward. That wasn't to say that doing so didn't feel strange. He had no clue where exactly he was going but didn't feel like he was lost. It was like walking through a thick fog in a place he could almost swear he knew by heart.
Soon enough he came upon a turn in the hall that lead further into the building, which his gut quickly informed him was probably the way he wanted to go.
"OOF!" a voice suddenly exclaimed as the Prophet came upon another intersecting hallway and collided with another person.
Barely even being thrown off balance during the collision, the Prophet eyed the person, or rather the group of four people, in front of him.
They were all wearing loose-fitting white robes and a white hood that hid their entire face from view. Two things that stood out to the Prophet were the metal greaves that seemed to go against his nimble attire of their uniform and the two curved swords with flat tips on each of their hips.
They were Guardians of the infamous painted world, performing a routine patrol of the area.
Once they all got a good look at the figure cloaked in a black shroud before them, each of the guardian gave a sharp gasp and retreating backward two steps, causing the Prophet to stare on in confusion before giving a warm smile.
"Heh, finally. I was starting to think I might never bump into someone around here." The Prophet said with a bright, friendly tone. "Well, except for that other lady I woke up too, but I'm pretty sure I accidentally freaked her out."
The reaction that followed was not so difficult to understand. These Guardians had taken part in a battle to defend the city from a massive invasion force only just a few days ago and now a man they'd never seen before was suddenly roaming around like he owned the place.
Not to mention that, though the Prophet was completely oblivious to it, he painted an incredibly menacing visage. With his black cloak covering his body in an intimidating looking darkness and the way he seemed unconcerned with being outnumber, the guardians found themselves at a loss for words for a few moments.
But of course, they did eventually regain themselves and what else were they going to say but….
"INTERUDER!" the Guardian shouted, prompting all of them to draw their curved blades from their sheaths.
"Whoa! Hold it! I'm not picking a fight here; I'm just looking for Velka."
For the second time did the Prophet outward appearance work against his words, as the moment that he finished speaking them did all the guardians release another small gasp.
"You think us so weak as to allow to bring harm to Lady Velka, you cur?" One of the guardians spat before speaking to his comrades at his side. "Split off. Alert the others we have a breach. We will hold him here and attempt to settle thing."
"Wait, you're gonna what? There's no need for that." the Prophet said as two of the Guardians immediately retreated back down the hallway and the remaining two cautiously began to stalk toward him with their weapons at the ready. Seeing that he was in clear and imminent danger, the Prophet drew two daggers from the satchel at his hip to defend himself. "Okay, let's just take it easy for a sec. Before you do anything hasty, you should know that I have an impressive legend that dates back to the twelfth century. It began on a midsummers day with the sun blazing overhead. No, wait. It was a blustery Autumn day. I was an unsavory fellow back when it all started. Which was in the winter as I recall. I remember the tough crowd, all the hot babes fought over me that summer. Yes. Yes, that's right, it was summer. A scorching midsummer day. I was a dangerous man at the time. And yet, refined somehow. Everyone thought so. They still think so to this day. Although, maybe they didn't think so as much back then. But they definitely said I was dangerous, I'm sure of it...And I know I've always been refined so they must have been thinking it. Yes. Yes indeed. Everyone thought and said and talked about how amazing I was back then. I'm still amazing of course, but no longer the bad boy that I was back then. On that chilled, frozen winter day. And that is why you can't fight me."
As is mesmerized by the sheer stupidity that had just graced their ears, the guardians froze on the spot as their brains struggled to find any sort of moral or reason behind his words. Both warriors then turned to one another and silently agreed that it was nothing more than the ramblings of a fool, before they both forward with their weapons in hand.
"Oh, crap."
CLING. SHING. CLING.
Moving their weapons in a circular dancing motion and in practiced unison, the guardian brought down a continuous string of attacks one after the other. In a one on one encounter, in a narrow hallway no less, this style of combat was ideal. Any normal warrior would be left with virtually no room to counterattack.
Unfortunately for them, even in his current state, the Prophet was no ordinary warrior.
CLING. SHING.
"Hey! Stop!" the Prophet said as he backtracked and deflected each of the blows thrown at him, surprisingly managing to keep pace with the guardian's attacks every step of the way.
This exchange of blows continued for a short time, with the Prophet growing further and further irritated at being needlessly attacked. Until finally…
"Alright, you wanna go?!" the Prophet shouted as he deflected one last strike, before driving his elbow into the face of the leading guardian, causing his head to snap backward and his body to fall to the ground. The blood that seep into the hood he wore served as evidence of a broken nose.
He then deflected the blade of the second guardian just as easily as the first, before driving his fist into his exposed gullet, causing him to double over as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He was then finish with a vicious uppercut that sent him to the ground sprawling to the ground as well.
As the two gave moans of pain and attempted to make it back to their feet, the Prophet thought they should feel lucky he wasn't holding a grudge and trying to kill them like they were attempting to do to him.
"There. You guys happy now? Got all that out of your system? I hope so because if you try and swing those swords at me again, I'm gonna-"
BZZZT-BOOSH
Suddenly and without warning, a flash of light streaked across the hallway and struck the Prophet square in his chest. The raw output of power striking his body easily sending him flying a few feet backward and sending the daggers he held flying out of his grasp.
The minute gravity began to take effect and his body slammed back to the floor, the Prophet experienced an intense bout of pain as his muscles convulsed and tightened uncontrollably. As small streaks of lightning and smoke trailed across his form, he grits his teeth as he struggled to regain control of himself.
Seeing that the intruder had suddenly been immobilized, the two guardians turned their gazes towards the direction of the hall the attack came from. What greeted them was the familiar sight of a herculean sized man wearing golden armor that shined brightly even in the moonlit night and a helm in the shape of a lion's head.
"Captain Ornstein." Both of the guardian exclaimed.
"Both of you get to your feet and fall back for reinforcements." The Knight said immediately recognizing that he was facing the same human that had overcome a horde of Darkwraiths on his own. Knowing of the explosive raw power the human held, he did not want to take any risk with the lives of his fellow soldiers.
Unfortunately, after seeing who was before them and the fact that the intruder had taken a direct blow from a bolt of lightning that was said to rip the scales from the flesh of dragons, the Guardians thought the threat all but neutralized and took their time standing to their feet.
"Apologize, captain. We held him at bay for as long as we were able. He said he was here for-"
SHWOOSH
Without warning, a wave of intense heat rushed from the direction of the intruder and permeated the air around them. The sudden and intense increase of temperature caused both guardians to sharply turn their attention back to the man they had thought killed.
Grunting with strain every step of the way, the Prophet had fought against the pain of his jolted muscles and forced his body to rise to a knee. Then, showing just how pissed he was about being blindsided, he turned a yellow eyed glare directly towards Ornstein himself.
"That should have been enough to tear his body asunder, yet he rises unharmed." Ornstein thought as he watched the Prophet make his way back to his feet and placed a hand on his chest where the bolt struck him. It was then that the dragon slayer took in the sight of the attire he now wore. "That armor….it was powerful enough to withstand the blow with nary a scratch. How did he obtain that?"
"Ugh, that hurt, you son of a bitch." The Prophet growled angrily before his visage began to waver ominously before the knights before him.
Thinking this meant he was preparing for an explosive use of his pyromancy, Ornstein spun his weapon in hand and lowered himself in a defensive stance, prepared to push through whatever he threw at him. The Guardians had become frozen, unable to think with the overwhelming output of heat that blanketed them so heavily, as well at the hate filled glare in the Prophet yellow eyes.
For a few moments, it appeared that neither side was willing to make the first move, with each one frozen in place.
It was then that the Prophet entire body suddenly faded away as if he was made entirely of mist, before he reappeared behind Ornstein and placed a hand upon the back of his knee.
BOOSH
Willing his pyromancy forth, the Prophet caused a small explosion to detonate upon the back of Ornstein's leg, forcing the dragon slayer to cry out in pain before falling to a knee. Now that the titan was at the proper height, the Prophet quickly ignited his right hand in a black flame before vanishing once again.
Once he came back into sight, he stood in front of the kneeling knight with one hand placed against his chest
"Let's see how you like it." The Prophet said as he unleashed a devastating and massive explosion of black pyromancy that sent the knight flying backward in a manner very similar to how he was moments ago.
The two guardians that bore witness to this could almost feel their eyes bulging through their hoods as their captain was sent flying onto his back.
Having a body far more physically durable than a human being, Ornstein was able to regain himself much quicker than the Prophet had. Though he did need to take a moment to place a hand to his chest and come to terms with the immense force that had been placed upon him before rising to his feet.
It was at that moment that every path of the hallway was blocked off by an assortment Painted Guardians and Darkmoon Blades, each wielding a variety of swords, halberds, throwing knives as well as bows and arrows.
"HALT!" every knight shouted at him in unison, their voices and resolve to battle almost enough shake the building itself.
"Well, this is just great." The Prophet exclaimed as he looked back and forth between them all, internally trying to decide which group would be the easiest to fight through.
CRASH
To everyone's surprise, the window directly at the Prophets side suddenly exploded and shattered as a black winged figure suddenly burst through, landing beside him with more grace and finesse than anyone would think reasonable.
"That's enough." The woman said in a tone that was calm yet commanding tone as she stood up and swept her gaze over each of the knights around her, pausing only when her eyes met the Prophets. It was only her steadfast will that allowed her to quickly turn her focus back to the situation at hand. "Everyone within the sound of my voice, lower your weapons and stand down."
"Disregard that order. All hands at the ready." Ornstein countered quickly as he leveled his spear towards the Prophet and subsequently the goddess. "Velka, stand aside. That human is a threat to the city. For what purpose do you stand with him?"
At this, the Goddess sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with visible annoyance. As if the great deal of swords being pointed at her, as well as the spear of Ornstein himself, was nothing more than the biggest annoyance of her day. The strangest part of it all was, when she thought about who she was standing next to, she didn't feel that this situation was all that strange.
Speaking of which, Velka was quick to sharply turn her gaze towards the individual in question to voice her displeasure.
"You complete and utter idiot. You just couldn't help yourself, could you? You couldn't go five minutes without causing trouble of some sort." Velka asked in a tone that showed her irritation at this situation. Not exactly caring that she'd just ignored Ornstein's question. "What could you possibly have done to bring every single person in Anor Londo upon yourself?"
"Okay firstly, your overreacting. I'm sure that this isn't everyone in Anor Londo." The Prophet said in an almost matter of fact tone.
"You're right. What was I thinking? Clearly this isn't so bad, and I need to stop overreacting. Oh, and by the way, once this all done with, I'm going to take the first chance I get to wring your neck." Velka said as she pointed a smile at him that said she meant every word she just said.
"Velka, we must stop this human from-" The Dragon Slayer started.
"Do you mind? We're trying to have a conversation here." The Prophet said, casually dismissing the words of the legendary knight before turning his attention back to Velka. "Secondly, I should point out that this isn't my fault. Those guys dressed up as spooky ghost over there took one look at me before shouting "Intruder!" all dramatic like. Then that golden guy over there showed up and threw lightning at me."
"At that point you should have laid down your arms and explained that you were not a threat. NOT engage him in a drawn-out battle, you idiot!" Velka retorted heatedly as she turned to face him fully.
"Well, sorry for not wanting to be civil after being struck by lightning. Also, have I ever told you you're cute when you're mad?" The prophet said, causing Velka to simultaneously grow a bit angrier both at him and at herself for the butterflies she felt at hearing him say that out of the blue.
"I did what my duty commanded. You are a threat too-"
"Ornstein, we get it already! So, could you just-" Velka snapped uncharacteristically at the knight before stopping herself midsentence. This wasn't some private moment with the Prophet, it was a serious situation that required her attention. She needed to treat it as such. "Look. I understand the confusion and your concern, but there is no call for this. I have the human completely in hand and will deliver him to lord Gwyndolin without any problem. There is no need to prolong this needless confrontation any further. Return all the knights to their patrols and their post immediately."
"I cannot do that. We've both have seen the damage he's capable of causing. I will not place Lord Gwyndolin's life at risk by allow this human to come near him." Ornstein said as his grip on his weapon tightened. "Now stand aside or I will not hesitate to remove you."
At this, both Velka and the Prophet glared at the Knight.
"This is not a debate, Ornstein. It's an order. This man was brought here at the behest of Lord Gwyndolin. My actions are justified, and he is under my protection." Velka stated coldly. "If you wish to bring him harm, then expect to have get through me to do it."
"You even think of touching her and I'll make sure you regret it, Golden Boy." the Prophet said as his eyes once again took on a yellow hue.
Hearing these threats and seeing the demeanor at which they defended one another, Ornstein wasn't sure exactly what he was seeing right now. This wasn't the actions of someone performing their duty, nor the actions of someone acting solely out of a sense of responsibility. The way they stepped both forward to defend the other came off as far more...personal.
But he would not back down from his decision. The human was threat that needed to be eliminated. Velka was more than capable of surviving what he was about to do.
"ARCHERS!" Ornstein shouted to the Knights at his back, causing those with bows to unreservedly draw their arrows back.
"Prophet, get behind me!" Velka said as she prepared to use magic to immobilize the offending knights.
"Velka, get back, I got this!" the prophet said as he prepared to shroud himself in pyromancy and charge forward.
CRASH SHING CHING CHING CHING
Before any meaningful move could be made by either side, a multitude of chains erupted from the floor beneath the Prophets feet and quickly seize his limbs tightly before dragging him down to his knees.
As the Prophet struggled in vain against his newfound shackles, a white robed figure suddenly faded directly in the center of the confrontation. The minute his form came into view fully, so too did a pair of Greatsword wielding Silver Knights suddenly appear. Each one quickly placing their weapons at the front and back of the Prophets throat, sending a clear message for him to cease his struggling.
"My Lord!" both Velka and Ornstein said simultaneously as they both lowered themselves and kneeled before the newly arrived figure. The Knights that stood around them were quick to follow suit.
Calmly sweeping his gaze over Ornstein and the Knights at his side, then over Velka and the Man next to her, the robed figure spoke the obvious question.
"What is happening here? For what reason to you both take up arms against one another?" he asked in a composed tone that demanded answers.
"Lord Gwyndolin, this is the human that we spoke of previously. I was attempting to protect him from unnecessary harm." Velka responded quickly.
"She places our soldiers and your life in danger, my lord. This man holds pyromancy in likeness to Velka's own." Ornstein countered. "I have witnessed it myself. Even Darkwraiths were brought low before it."
At this, Gwyndolin turned towards the human in question, his mask hiding whatever expression may be holding.
"A human wielding pyromancy belonging only to a god?" the Dark Sun said to the human directly. "Show me."
Having the blades still at his throat, the Prophet gave a small glare towards Gwyndolin, but otherwise complied with his request.
FWOOOSH
Earning gasp of surprise from all the knights around them, the Prophets eye's glowed a dangerous yellow before he allowed his Tainted Pyromancy to flow over his body.
Maintaining his stature as a ruler and a commander, Gwyndolin paused only for a few moments to gaze upon the sight before swiftly deciding on a course of action.
"Velka, disarm him and bring him to my chambers. I have question regarding the nature of his...abilities. Ornstein reorganize the men and follow suit. I wish to have you at my side for this. The rest of you, return to your post and resume your duties. This matter will be handled. Dismissed." Gwyndolin commanded solemnly before.
"Yes, Lord Gwyndolin." Velka, Ornstein and every warrior present said simultaneously before moving almost robotically to follow their orders. The Knights moved swiftly and were quick to disperse out of sight, Velka raised herself to her feet and turned to face the Prophet with a look that almost seemed apologetic and Ornstein gave a moment of pause to stare at the him as well before leaving to do as he was commanded.
"Human. If you comply and do as you are told, then you will not be harmed. But if you try to resist or flee, then you will perish." Gwyndolin informed the Prophet without even looking at him, before dismissing the illusion of the Silver Knights and the chains that bound him. "I bid you heed my words, lest you incur my wrath."
"I-" the Prophet started.
"He understands, my lord. I will deliver him to your chambers with haste." Velka interrupted, not wanting to take any chances the Prophet might say something wrong.
"See that you do, Velka." Gwyndolin said calmly before his body faded out of sight.
Once he left, the Prophet and Velka suddenly found themselves alone with one another.
"Follow me." Velka said as she turned around and began to lead the way to her lord's chamber. She knew that though he did not show it on the surface, Gwyndolin expected to see them immediately. To make him wait for an extended period would result in swift punishment.
As such, the two of them made their way towards their destination at steady pace, but slow enough to give them time to talk to one another.
"I wish you had waited and at least allowed me time to be glad to see you, Prophet." Velka said with genuine regret. She no longer wished to remain angry with him and wanted to happy that he was here with her right now, but she truly wished for their reunion to be different. "How do you feel?"
"I'm sorry it turned out like this, but I wasn't left with much of any choice but to fight or be killed back there." The Prophet apologized, feeling the emotion and concern behind Velka's words. "And I feel fine. This armor really held out and saved me."
At this, a small smile graced Velka's lips for a moment, before she regained her serious composure.
"That's good to hear. How has your mind fared? Do you remember how you came to be here?" Velka asked plainly. It was well known by all that going hollow meant losing one's past and memories. With how close the Prophet came to complete hollofication, it would be foolish of her to assume the man standing before her was as whole as he appeared.
"I only remember you, Anastacia and a bunch of jumbled memories of fighting. Some more clear than others. Anything else besides that is a bit of a blur."
At this, Velka's eyes suddenly grew a bit wider as she turned her eyes to the Prophet directly.
"That's all you remember? You don't know what the First Flame is or anything about Lord Gwyn? Nothing at all?" Velka asked, clearly invested in this bit of information.
"Not a clue what either of those are."
Hearing this, Velka felt the urge to tear his head off all over again. This was a golden opportunity. A goddamn answered prayer. Not only has his knowledge of the Flame and their plans been removed, but he recalls only memories of her and Anastacia. That meant he was no longer a credible threat to their plans. If he had not revealed himself and had given her proper time to take advantage of this development, things would have been perfect.
As they made their way to the massive stairway that would take them to the revolving staircase, they peered down to the bottom saw that Ornstein was already waiting for them.
"He beat us here. Must have wrapped up his business quickly." The Prophet said after seeing that the Knight beat them there.
"Likely not wanting to leave you in Lord Gwyndolin's presence any longer than necessary." Velka commented as she returned to the matter at hand. "Listen, since we have no time to discuss things thoroughly, I want you to let me handle this. Unless asked directly, do not speak. Understand?"
"Alright." The Prophet said as they at last made their way down the stairs and onto the lift alongside the knight.
The ride down was about as awkward and silent as one might expect it to be. It didn't help that the prophet could swear that Ornstein stared at him for the entirety of the way.
Of course, the staircase eventually stopped moving and they made their way further downward until they reached a small room that held a bonfire. After bypassing it, they traveled down a final flight of stairs and moved to a doorway that held a carpet in front of it.
"There is no merit for you all stand in such confined area." A voice suddenly echoed around them all. "Approach further."
Doing as told, the three made their way through the doorway and into what could only be described as a hallway that stretched into infinity. With the sole occupant being the Gwyndolin, who stood with his snakes slithering beneath him.
"So, you are the Prophet. The human who not only holds knowledge of the First Flame, but now has Pyromancy that appears to be the same as Velka's." the Dark Sun said, his voice cool and composed. "A dangerous marriage, wouldn't you agree?"
"And one he has used for our benefit, my lord." Velka comment, intent to head this train of thought off before it could get going. "As you know, the Prophet was present during the Red Phantom invasion and gave every effort to help defend the city. Regarding his knowledge of the Flame, due to an encounter with a Darkwraith, it has been lost to him. With these facts in mind, I once more request to conscript him."
"That would be unwise, my lord." Ornstein said calmly. "We cannot ignore the threat this human could pose. Not to mention that know far too little of him. Why did he come to aid us? How did he come to posses Velka's pyromancy? How did he remain here, alive and unharmed, without our notice?"
"All questions that I wish answered as well." Gwyndolin said, turning his attention squarely upon Velka. "I also want to know how he is as well-equipped as he currently is. That armor and cloak almost melds with the shadows before my very eye's. Its clearly magical in nature and far beyond what mortal hands could craft."
"I can answer all of your questions, my lord." Velka said as she hid all her trepidation behind a mask of calm. "The Prophet possesses a unique ability not seen in any human before. He can assimilate and adapt pyromancy to suit his needs. The effects and potency of this ability is relative to his current emotional state. A powerful warrior that, given our current situation, we could make great use of."
Gwyndolin took this information in a manner befitting a swift and decisive leader. There was no surprise or shock, only the acceptance that this was what he was dealing with.
"I see. But that still does not answer the other questions." The Dark Sun responded. "How did he come to be here without notice and where did he get his apparel."
She tried to find a way to explain the answer to this question without it sounding as bad as it was. But after coming up with no correct way to say it, the goddess chose to simply come out with it.
"It was I who made the armor for him and ensured he remained alive, my Lord. To better serve in the city's protection." Velka admitted plainly with a small bow of her head. "The Firekeeper within our courtyard granted me the humanity to restore him to human form. From there I wished him restored to make the most of his abilities."
At this, both Ornstein and Gwyndolin show visible concern at what they'd just heard.
"So you've not only used resources that could have been better spent aiding our men, but you've wasted a portion of our humanity supply to restore someone who holds no allegiance to the city? Are you insane?" Ornstein said with a bit of anger.
Hearing this, Velka's mask of calm crumbled ever so slightly as she allowed the irritation she felt to show upon her face.
"I took what I believed to be the best course of action." Velka responded.
"You've seen the destruction he's capable of when he loses control, yet you believe we should place everything at risk to utilize him?" Ornstein asked with irritation to match Velka's. "We should dispose of him and eliminate the threat before it could even come about."
"He does not wish to bring harm to any of us. There is no cause to consider him a threat, especially when he came here of his own will to help us." Velka counter, feeling her anger rising that much further at Ornstein's words.
"I am not willing to bet the lives of my remaining men upon that. We have already received a devastating blow as it is." Ornstein said firmly. "We cannot allow ourselves to take a risk like this. My Lord, please give but the word and I will end this."
"Lay a hand on him and I'll burn you to ash." Velka said aggressively before she could think to stop herself causing looks of surprise from all around her, including the Prophet.
Even Velka herself seemed shocked by just how defensive her behavior had suddenly become. It seemed that hearing Ornstein speak so adamantly about outright killing the Prophet had struck a powerful nerve within her.
Still staring at her with disbelief in his eyes, Gwyndolin was the first to speak again between them.
"Velka…what is this?" the Dark Sun said mystified, truly not knowing how he should react to Velka of all people suddenly speaking with such outrage. "You draw from our limited source of humanity without my knowledge, you keep this human here without giving a single hint that we have walking timebomb in our midst and you've armed him personally with magical armor. Why would you do all of this for this man?"
Knowing that she had make a critical mistake, Velka floundered at her lords' direct question. Unable to find the right words to answer it without giving away the truth. Unfortunately, the silence that followed was nothing short of an admission that there was indeed something more behind her actions other than the goal of helping the city.
It was at that moment that an absurd idea began to creep into the back of his mind, causing Gwyndolin to turn his attention towards the Prophet himself. Velka was one of the greatest of their kind, a paragon of power and skill few other possess. She had dedicated her life to honing her mastery of swordsmanship, sorcery and pyromancy, bringing it to a level that could almost rival a bearer of a Lord Soul.
Yet…she was still a woman, was she not? And she seemed quite attached to this man in a manner she had never show towards anyone before. The way she appeared so protective of him and the actions she took for his sake, made the preposterous idea in his mind seem to make even more sense.
"Are you…. infatuated with this human?" Gwyndolin asked outright, the sensation of the sentence on his lips feeling more than abnormal considering who he was directing it towards.
At his question, Velka didn't speak a single word. But the guilty look in her eyes told Gwyndolin everything he needed to know.
After allowing himself to come to terms with the fact that Velka acted the way she did because of an attachment to a human, the Dark Sun sighed visibly.
"So that's what this was about." Gwyndolin said with equal parts of disappointment and understanding.
"My lord, I simply-"
"You acted based on your emotions and your affection for this man." Gwyndolin interrupted calmly as he sighed once again. He paused for a few moments before proceeding to relinquish the sun shaped helmet from his head so he could meet the goddesses yellow split pupils with his silver one's. "I can't believe this. What you've done was reckless and irrational, Velka. You have to know he cannot be left as he is."
"My lord, his memories are gone and he wishes no harm upon any of us." Velka said, feeling that the situation was slipping away from her. "He is no threat."
"The fact that you say that only shows me just how blinded by emotion you are, Velka." Gwyndolin responded in an almost apologetic tone. "He will not be able maintain this state forever. Eventually he will either need to be given more humanity and regain his memories or succumb to the Undead Curse and unleash his power on any around him. Either way, he will pose a danger we cannot ignore."
Velka once again felt her anger begin to rise as she was being backed into a corner.
"Should we forget that by his actions were we able to determine the source of the invasion and put a stop to it? Or that he risked everything and nearly turned into a hollow to help us when he had nothing to gain by doing so? Are we to discard him so readily after all that?" Velka said with visible resentment at the thought. "That would be nothing short of a disgrace."
"Mind your words. While I will concede that his efforts have aided us, I must act with the best interest of the plan and the soldiers under my command in mind. A task that you have failed to do." Gwyndolin said firmly, his eye's never leaving Velka's own. Though he simply spoke the truth of the reality before him, he still did not enjoy presenting it before her in this manner.
He knew that Velka deserved better. If nothing else, he understood fully her desire to keep hold of the comfort she had found. He was not heartless, but his responsibilities demanded that he remain strong and hold the greater good above all else.
"I wish that you had chosen to come speak of this to me instead of concealing it. At the very least, we could have discussed things further while the human was immobilized." Gwyndolin said with a sigh, visibly showing just how apologetic he was about what he was going to say. "Ornstein is right. Our numbers are too thin and our situation too dire to take a risk with this human. His abilities and the knowledge he stands to regain only make that even more apparent. But…in light of your faithful and dedicated service, I will spare his life. As such, the human is too be confined in the painted world until we recover our strength. I will allow this matter to be revisited then."
Hearing this proclamation, Velka's eye's widened in surprised before turning into a sharp glare.
"…No…" Velka said almost instinctually. She could not let this happen. She could not allow the Prophet to be sent to that wasteland of nightmares and torment. "You say you will reward my service by sparing his life, then order the next best thing to killing him?! The Painted World is not some prison cell for him to wait, it is a hellhole filled with criminals and most dangerous of abominations! I will not allow you too-"
"Enough! Do not forget yourself. I acknowledge that this man is important to you and I understand your plight, but we cannot allow sentiment to cloud our judgement. Need I remind you of the fading flame and dire state of the world around us? There is too much at stake to take a chance with this. Now you will put your personal feelings aside and do as commanded. Do you understand?"
At this, Velka visibly bristled and clenched her fist. Put her personal feelings aside and do as commanded? That was all she'd ever done! Time and time again she had sacrificed for the greater good and now she was told to do it once more? To shut up and do as what she was told? To just send the man she loved into hell until they "Recovered their strength"? Ridiculous. She could not let this stand. She had to act.
It was at that moment that the Prophet recognized the severity of what was happening before him. Velka wasn't thinking straight and Gwyndolin was done discussing this, the combination of these two things would lead to disaster.
He saw a woman ready to fight to prevent him from being sent away, a god that would not bend before her rage, a knight that would strike the woman down the second she made a move to attack his lord and he saw himself, angry and ready to butcher everyone in the city if they tried to hurt her. Laid out in front of him, he saw a destiny of bloodshed and regret.
So, like the fool he was, he stepped in and changed it.
"All right, all right, that's enough." The prophet said as he stepped forward and placed a hand on Velka's shoulder. "There's no need to argue any further. I'll go."
"What?" Velka said, her voice laced with a deep sense of sadness and betrayal at what she just head. "You're not-"
"Vel…don't push this, okay?" the Prophet said firmly to the goddess face, forcing himself not to turn away from the hurt look in her eyes. "He's moving with the best interest of those under his command in mind. He can't be faulted for that. The only reason he's even allowing me to live at all is because he's thinking of you. Its best to accept his mercy and kindness as it is."
Velka didn't know what to say think about what she was hearing. She could only stare at him in disbelief and sorrow. Why was he saying these things? He's offering himself to the Painted World Willingly without a fight? Why would he do that to her?
Gwyndolin was the first to speak after the surprise had settled.
"I commend you for your bravery and willingness to see reason, human. Whatever it may be worth, know that I take no pleasure in confining you." The gods said calmly, meaning ever word spoken. "Velka escort him to the painting. I will personally travel to Seath's Archive's to speak of using his abominations to aid in increasing our numbers once again. For now, this matter is settled, and you are dismissed. If you must, take some time to yourself after your task is done. Now go."
With her eye's cast downward and her raven black hair hiding her expression from view, Velka didn't speak a word as she turned on her heel and began to leave the chamber. The Prophet didn't need a signal further to know that he was too follow her and so did exactly that.
Neither one of them gave a single look back towards the two gods they left behind.
"My lord, you cannot be lenient and deliver false hope. Delaying the decision will not make it any easier or any less painful." Ornstein counseled truthfully. "The human will have to be put down."
Hearing this, Gwyndolin sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Things had gotten too far out of hand. One of his oldest and most trusted servants was almost on the verge of outright defying his orders. As impossible as he wanted to believe it to be, if he was not careful, he may have had a mutiny on his hands. After all that had happened, he could not afford to have any of his fellow gods, especially Velka, turning on him. Anor Londo desperately needed a unified front and he had to find the line by which that could achieved.
"I know, Ornstein….but dealing with it now will cause more problems than it would solve." Gwyndolin said sorrowfully, the truth not lost on him for even a moment. "For now, we will focus on recovering. If fortune favors us, he will perish inside the Painted World. If not, then I will do what I must."
With that, the two remained there in silence. Neither enjoying the thought of what the coming future might bring.
The Chapel
The room was massive, but entirely empty save for an impossibly sized painting of a frozen mountain that framed the back wall. Usually, there was meant to be a great deal of Painted guardians eternally watching over the portrait, but as their number had dwindled so dramatically, they were abandon their post outside the painting and to help protect the city alongside the remaining knights. The Prophet and Velka were completely alone here.
The trip down together was painfully silent. Velka wouldn't even glance toward him, much less even speak, so he had no idea how she might be feeling about things right now. But he knew it couldn't be anything good.
It was only when they walked into the chapel and were halfway to the painting itself that she finally stopped in her tracks, causing the Prophet to stop and face towards her.
"Why…Why would you do this?" She asked outright. She still would not look at him, but the hurt in her voice was clear.
There wasn't going to be a right answer to that question. He knew that. He could only try his best to not hurt her any further than he already had.
"I had too, Velka. Gwyndolin wasn't going to back down from his decision and you…were letting your anger get the best of you. You weren't thinking clearly." The Prophet explained honestly. "There's a time to fight and a time to wait. Fighting now would end badly no matter how you slice it."
At this, Velka clenched her teeth as she practically seethed in anger.
"So you think I should just wait then? Just allow you to be taken from me without a fight?" The goddess said as her body quivered with heated emotion before the Prophet very eye's. But still she did not look to him. "You have no idea what you're walking into. The Painted World is a place of suffering and despair. We dump creatures and criminals there because they were too dangerous to be imprisoned normally….and you expect me to just stand by and nothing?!"
"Velka, I understand how you feel, but the best choice presented was for me to make this sacrifice."
"…Sacrifice…" Velka said lowly as her frustration reaches a boiling point.
At this point, she wasn't thinking clearly. The only thing she knew was that she was hurting as she heard the Prophet heedlessly give up and do as he was told. He always fought to the bitter end no matter the stakes or the obstacles presented before him, but now that it was time to fight to stay with her, he was giving up without so much as a word of defiance. Why? She didn't understand it. Was it because he thought it was heroic? Did he think being so pathetically selfless was what she wanted from him?
Question such as these served to hurt her even further and brought out more and more anger from within her. Until it reached a point where she wanted nothing more than to wipe that calm look off his face, to make him know just how badly she was suffering from all of this.
So not caring about the consequences of doing so, she stepped close and grabbed hold of his cloak with both of her hands and locked her eyes with his own. She then began to show him everything.
She showed him the fear and sorrow she felt as she was forced to cut him down in his rabid and wild state. The despair that consumed her as he was hollowing in her very arms. How she killed the knights so she could steal their humanity to save him.
But it didn't stop there. She made him experience the misery and isolation she went through as she sat next to him day after day, she forced him to feel just how much of a monster she felt like for doing the things that she did. She wanted him to know just how broken she was at the prospect of him never coming back.
He wasn't the only one to go through all of this. For her to show him these memories and experiences, she had to relive them herself as if they had only happened moments prior. The process, alongside haphazardly forcing the truth of her actions on him, causing tears to form along the rim of her eye's.
After staring into his eye's a moment longer and seeing the look of absolute shock on his face, she couldn't help but let the tears fall. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to express further just how pissed off he made her, but she could feel those emotions slipping away the longer she held his eyes with her own.
She closed her eye's and pressed herself close to him as she spoke her next words. She regretted showing him all that the minute it was done, but there was no taking it back now.
"You have no idea how much I wished to see you again. What it feels like to have you so close, only for you too demand that I let you walk away. What is wrong with you? How could even think that this is what should be done?" Velka said in a tone that almost begged him to change his mind and say he was wrong. "Why do you always think you need to do things alone? We are in this together, are we not? I missed you. Anna misses you. So please, just this once…..be selfish."
Hearing this, hearing Velka beg for him not to go and seeing the things that she went through, the Prophets body relaxed as he inwardly cursed himself for what he was about to say. But even still, he wrapped both of his arm around her body, bringing her closer into his warm embrace.
"I'm sorry…. but I won't, Velka. You mean too much too me for me to ever choose myself." The prophet explained coolly.
"Then tell me what it is you plan to do. What goal do you hope to reach by doing this? Why are you just giving up on me?" Velka asked, desperately wanting an answer.
The Prophet remained silent for a moment before answering. What he had in mind wasn't something so easy to explain.
"I needed to buy myself time."
For the first time in their conversation, Velka found herself confused. Her mind searched and searched, but she couldn't figure out what he meant by that. As such she tore her gaze from its lowered position to look directly into his eyes, silently questioning what he meant.
"I told you that there's a time to fight and a time to wait. The situation is too far out of our favor. As it stands, the two of us don't have much chance of surviving an all-out confrontation." The prophet explained simply. "You don't walk into a tiger's den without a way to fight back."
Velka's stood stunned for a moment at what she was hearing.
"Wait, you're…you're not planning to sacrifice yourself?" Velka said as she tried vainly to piece together what he thought he was doing.
"No. I'm picking my battles. Fighting now, when I barely have a way to fight back, is idiotic. Don't think that just because I'm not throwing fire around that I plan on dying." The Prophet explained, his eye's taking in the sight of hers with a deep sorrow at what he's put her through and what he had forced her to do. "Velka, I want nothing more than too see you happy. Both you and Anastacia are he reason I can push forward without fear. But I have to be careful and make my decisions wisely. So I planned to buy myself time to gather the strength I needed to fight for you. It'll keep me away from the two women I want to be with the most, but it is the best choice available to me."
Hearing his words, Velka gaze bore deep into the Prophets own as understanding dawned on her.
She had doubted him, believed that he was simply trying to play at being a hero. But he never thought of surrendering, he was playing things smart. He told Lord Gwyndolin everything he wanted to hear just to give himself a chance. If the decision was to attempt a war with a city of gods and knights or to attempt to survive and gather his strength in the Painted World then fight, then the choice of what to do was clear. With his abilities, it was not outside the realm of possibility.
But the problems with this plan were blatant and obvious.
"You don't have your knowledge anymore. You don't know where you're going, what your going to face or how you're going to find your way out. Do not speak as if you plan to just walk in and find some hidden gem of power." Velka said as she searched her mind and began to add in her own thoughts to his makeshift plan. The sentence "Not the right time to fight" playing over and over in her mind. "You need a path to take and something to give you a clear advantage to survive. With how you are, even a single death could leave you in a dire state."
As she began to make sense of what the Prophet had done, she began to think of all the ways she could aid him. It was then that she arrived at one final conclusion that shake the foundations of Anor Londo itself.
"Prophet…. form a covenant with me."
In the face of this monumental declaration that make even Gwyn himself gawk in surprise; Kaylen responded with….
"A covenant?" the Prophet said with a tilt of his head. "Like a club? With passwords and secret handshakes?"
"I wish you knew just how stupid you are, and I wish I knew why I love your brand of stupidity." Velka said as she gave a deadpanned look for a moment. "No, Prophet. A covenant is a sort of contract of power between a god, or a being with considerable strength, and a human. You make an oath to me and I form a tether between us."
"What is it going to do to me exactly?" the Prophet asked.
"Well…all covenants formed between a god and a human grant the servant power relevant to the god they pledge themselves too. As I have never attempted to form a covenant with a human, I do not know the specific effects it will have upon you. But you will only stand to gain by bonding with me" Velka explained. "The act is a dangerous one as doing so is expressly forbidden to those other than that of Lord Gwyn's blood, the punishment for doing otherwise is usually immense. As I have already pledged myself to a covenant with Lord Gwyndolin, he will likely know of my actions immediately once our bond is made."
"Are you sure you want to do this then? There's no telling what he might do when he finds out-"
The Prophet got no further before Velka brought herself close and placed a warm kiss on his lips, stopping him from speaking a single word further. Just as she believed she'd had enough and was about to part from him, she found herself diving back into him for another helping of his touch.
Eventually though, she had to release him. But she did not break the closeness between them.
"If my memories have not told you already, my concern is your survival. Not whether my actions will displease someone else." Velka said truthfully. "I've always given things up fighting for the world. But the world has no right to my heart, and I will no longer allow it to dictate what I can and cannot hold on too. I want to laugh more with you, hear your stupid jokes, have that meal together like we planned. I want to fight for a future with you, Prophet. So are you going to deny me my wish or are you going to accept that my desire to be with the foolish man before me is what I want?"
The significance of the words she spoke were not lost upon him. She had declared outright just how much his life meant to her. From her memories, he saw that she was even prepared to kill for him.
She chose him and as always, he would choose her. And through that choice, the first true covenant between the Goddess of Sin and a Human was born.
Epilogue
She leaned her head, letting the hot water fall over her in waves, washing away her grief, aches and worries, but she knew they would all come crawling back like bitter poison. Velka wanted nothing more than to drag the Prophet here and have him hold her in his warm embrace, but she knew there was work to do. She had decisions to make and plans to break.
She sighed, relived as the hot water worked its way into her pores and muscles. She began to calculate, think, deduce and subtract things in her mind. A brainstorm of rebellion, love and betrayal that went well with the quite aggression that currently simmered within her heart. Of course, this feeling was kept in check by remembering the Prophets words. Now was not the time to fight.
Though she had not gone back to speak to Lord Gwyndolin, he probably knew that truth of what she'd done with the prophet. But she could not bring herself to care. She only concerned herself with her feelings toward the Prophet himself.
"I love him…He is the one true thing I wish for in this world. He wants to change things, shift them towards something that I don't fully understand. Once he regains his memories, he will be in direct opposition of Lord Gwyndolin. It is likely he has no intention of letting him live in the end. I cannot allow that to come to pass. We have played things safe and only took risk when necessary, but what has it gotten us? Lord Gwyn and Gwyndolin's hearts may be in the right place but their actions have left us destitute. Perhaps it is time we took a chance on the unknown."
He words were not based in logic, she knew that. They came from her heart, from a place that wanted to keep the Prophet by her side, not from any thought of what was best for the world.
But another part of her mind screamed in protest.
"Traitor! You swore an oath to serve Lord Gwyn and his descendants to your dying breath. You are thinking only with your emotions."
"Is that so wrong…?" she whispered.
"Yes! You are a warrior of the golden city; you serve its ruler and safeguard it. Will you tear it all down for one person?!"
"In a heartbeat, he'd do it for me. Why should I hesitate to do the same? Why should I have to sacrifice him for an empty city?"
"And what if you're wrong?! What if there is nothing but failure waiting for you at the end?!"
"I'd rather fail fighting alongside him, rather than let him die and wonder what might have been." She said with finality, silencing the voice in her head.
She began to write. Sketching through the fogged glass pane. She wrote a long list of names, reading them aloud as she marked them. Some names made her angry, others made her sad, but all would become targets, allies or enemies depending on the decisions she made. She marveled at the list, which read several names.
"Ornstein. He won't be easy to beat." She paused, then rubbed a finger over the name, the act more than symbolizing her intentions.
"Smough. A walk in the park." She crossed out the name instantly.
"The Darkmoon Blades. They are faultless. If possible, I would prefer them spared." She thought for a moment and left the words clear, for now at least.
"The Firekeeper. Wretched filth. She's had it coming." She crossed her out as if slitting her throat with only her finger.
"Prophet…Sheesh." She drew a heart around his name.
"Gwyndolin….Lord Gwyndolin….I'm sorry." She crossed out his name, feeling the weight of what the action meant fall on her shoulders.
Velka stepped back and marveled at list, as if it had become a 180-degree turn, she found more enemies than allies. Her mind then focused on the allies she may have been able to call upon.
For better or worse, the Prophet would still need humanity. Anastacia would offer him any number of her without question, but should she truly drag someone as innocent as her into this? She left that thought to hang in her mind to think on later. The Prophets other human friends are scattered too the wind and even if she did find them, they likely would not trust her. She let the thought of them fade away to the back of her mind.
But what of the Merchant and the solemn Knight at his side? They show no allegiance to anyone other than themselves, but with a bit of persuasion and maybe a few white lies, could she make use of them?
"A good gem cannot be made without a bit of polish. They are both experienced and capable fighters. If I grant them the power and direct them correctly, they could likely prove at least a match for the Darkmoon Blades." Velka thought to herself as the plan began to unfold step by step in her mind.
The prophet was right. She had acted to hastily. Now was not the time to fight….but the time and the battle would come. And when it did, she would be ready.
A sudden burning sensation in her arm brought her back to her greatest concern though.
Usually a covenant leader would tether themselves with their servants via a physical item, such as a ring or a weapon. But since she had none on hand to use, she settled for burning four claw marks onto both of their arms as symbol of their covenant and a physical link between them.
She could not feel or locate him as she could when held the Book of the Guilty, but the mark and the feeling it brought on her body served well in reminding her what she had to fight for and what she had to lose.
"We're in this together, Prophet. So please…don't die on me."
WAIT A MINUTE! EVERYBODY JUST WAIT!
Before you raise you banners of war at not seeing Pricilla this chapter, you should all know that I have mastered the ways of the jedi. So if you strike me down in anger, I will become more powerful than you could ever imagine!
But in all seriousness guys, I seriously underestimated the amount of moving pieces that I needed to get through before I actually got the Prophet inside the painted world. But I did it, he inside and I can actually get to including the fluff in the story. (FOR REAL THIS TIME!)
I didn't want to rush through things and try to skip over the storytelling just to place the Prophet where I wanted him, so this chapter was longer than expect.
Got a few words to add as parting comments.
Firstly, the Prophet is now in an official covenant with Velka, the benefits of such a bond I have yet to actually decide upon myself. But I now have an excuse to grant the Prophet new abilities and have them mean something other than just a power boost. So I'll get to work on putting together the abilities his covenant will grant him. I'm talking sorcery, pyromancy and maybe a few things that combine the two. Big boy moves are now in effect.
Secondly, the Painted World will not be some boring training chapter as I personally hate it when stories draw that out for an eternity and a half. Its going to be a place of constant struggle for survival and combat, the Prophets going to be forced to keep moving as he's attack by an onslaught of wave after wave of hollows, crow demons and a whole assortment of other foes. There will be no time for rest and every step he takes, he's going to have to fight for. Also, this is the Painted WORLD. So I'm going to treat it as if its as massive, dangerous and unpredictable as such a world would truly be.
Thirdly, I want you guys to know before hand that Lautrec's effect on the painted world will be a massive on. In a word, I'm going to make it so that that jackass made things even more chaotic and insane than it already was. Especially for Crossbreed Pricilla. Suffering and strife is the name of the game for everyone, fella's. You either keep going or you die.
Fourthly, I swear, Smough will get his time to shine in all of this. With how many actual things I had to get through within the city, I couldn't find much of an opening to make use of old snorlax. But I haven't forgotten about him, guys. Ornstein won't be the only one getting some love.
Fifthly, I know I teased it a bit at the end there, but I don't know If I should have Anastacia, the merchant and the Crestfallen Warrior throw their hats in this scuffle. I plan to give it a bit more thought. But the idea of the merchant throwing knives that erupt with Black Pyromancy won't leave my head for some reason.
Lastly, you guys have spoken and a large majority want too see how the Prophet fluffing Pricilla would play out in the story, so here we go. (And apparently there's a good lot of you rooting for the Darkwraith? Didn't think you guys had a thing for the crazy one's XD) This won't be some forced bull crap, it twill be mine master piece. Pricilla is for all intents and purposes a DANGEROUS abomination with an ability themselves feared. Lifehunt will be explored and its lethal effects will be explored and talked about. Not brushed aside like some nonchalant thing.
So that's all I got to say this time around, dear readers.
As always, feel free to leave a review and tell me what you guys thought about this chapter of the story. Do you think Velka making a covenant all her own was a good move? Do you guys think she should get Anastacia and the others in Firelink Shrine should get involved in the fun? What abilities do you guys think the Prophet should attain in his stay in the Painted Word?
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 you thoughts about how things are going so far. Outside opinion will have a huge effect on how this story will play out.
This is Supreme Gamer, Signing out.
P.S. Finally! I get to write about Pricilla! Let the adorable tail moments commence!