HO BOY, MERRY CHRISTMAS YA CRAZY KIDS!
I done diddly did it and finished the newest chapter and am now ready to present it to you guys as an early Christmas present. As such, I have openly defied the wishes of the all powerful Santa Clause and have doomed myself to the naughty list for giving out gifts too early.
But you gents let me worry about the fat man and his stupid list because you've got a got dang story to read. But first, I wanna get to...
A few comments that caught my eye. Thanks for the huge reviews btw guys. :)
Soulbow109- Finally got around to reading this.
Got to say, it really sucks that the Prophet can't remember everything. Even if his reasons are fair that does not make the way he treated Priscilla at the beginning right. Ugh, that was painful. Also interesting take on the life hunting ability of Priscilla. Really shows how dangerous she is and hints a bit more on how the Prophet isn't normal. Sounds like this hunger that Priscilla felt aint normal and I look forward to seeing why this happens with the Prophet.
Also, that whole thing with Priscilla attracting people with life isn't a magical ability is it. It is just that she is gorgeous and no one has said it yet. How innocent :). If I was in the Prophets place I feel I would have a lot of fun teasing her. Although from what I understand it looks like the Prophet is about to "attack" her in the next chapter lol. Look forward to it or rather I look forward to Priscilla's reaction.
"Wow Kaylen, playing with another women's tail? What would Velka and Anastacia say?" lol
Well if Priscilla is smart enough she can at least encourage the Prophet by offering him the chance to fluff her tail as a reward. Heh, be a funny way to gain a power boost.
On another note, I believe I got a few new ideas for abilities.
Since the Prophet can already make weapons he can probably make armor too. Although it does not have to be in the same way as weapons. There are a lot of series where a character can boost their defense by condensing energy in a body part, whether outside or inside the body. In some a certain mastery of this ability even makes armor. Be kinda cool for the Prophet to do this.
Also, he can use his pyromancy to increase his speed and mobility and fight in a more 3D manner. High speed tends to be a must in high-level battles. I believe Endeavor from Hero Academia is a good show of this. From what I understand along with limited flight Endeavor could also use his flames for long jumps and a kind of skating. Precious control and output of the flames at the feet or even other body parts can help with mobility.
Maybe you can even have him learn a technique similar to Yamamoto from Bleach Bankai. A very Op ability but at least a move that concentrates the heat from his fire into a small area would be nice to have, even if it is not as powerful as Yamamoto's. Melt and/or burn the opponent super fast.
My response- You're not the first to bring up the harshness of the Prophets reaction toward Priscilla, so I definitely felt like its something that I should address. I wanna say that, though we are keenly aware that Priscilla nothing but a harmless fluffball, the Prophet doesn't even know exactly why he was sent to the painted world. For him, its the same as being sent to Alcatraz and after having multiple inmates trying to kill you for days on end, then finding someone sitting in the dark basement of the prison. I definitly look back at the previous chapter and think that maybe I could have let up on his level of disregard for her, but I kkinda feel it only made sense for him to be untrusting considering the very specific circumstances he found him in.
As for Priscilla, I'll just her lifehunt is WAY more powerful then she let on and that attracting life is only a minor feature. Escpecially when dealing with the overwhelming urge to devour the Prophet, there's gonna be a lot revealed about her going forward. And hell yeah, there's gonna be a lot of teasing on the Prophets part for her, so definitely look forward to that too.
Regarding the prophet and forming armor, I can see the use it would have and I have thought it over, but from a story perspective I find the idea of forming magic armor over his already specially made armor from velka kinda redundant. The set that Velka made for him is without question high tier, so I'm not sure If I'll bother with the approach of adding "armor for my armor."
And lastly when speaking on the Prophet pyromancy, I've been given a lot of idea for ways to take it but Yamamoto's banki as well as ability's that simply "add fire to the sword" are far too expected and "been there, done that" in my opinion. When the prophet gets a new power, I think it would be best to say I'm keeping in mind abilities that are OP if used in the right circumstance, but can be overcome it used carelessly.
Jyz the berserk- The talk of essence has gifted me an earth-shattering theory: Priscilla has an ability named Lifehunt that eats hp like candy, takes essence, and is feared by the gods above everything else. Sounds an awful lot like Dark Hand to me. What if Seath was trying to create a more refined version of Kaathe's power, but got out 200% of what he expected and thus dropped her like a red-hot frying pan and told the gods immediately (unsure if his crystal immortality could stand up to a resentful girl with a kill-all power). If that's the secret she's trying to hide, then I am a god of predictions, and there is a hell of a lot that can be done with that stuff story-wise.
(My bluer than sky balls are kinda sad about the lack of tail fluffing, but it will be worth the wait to have Kaylen pet a (hopefully) very ~sensitive~ tail, if you know what I mean) ( ͡ ͜ʖ ͡)
My response- OH DON'T YOU WORRY, I'LL GET TO THAT!
Both Priscilla's connection to Seath, the purpose of her creation, the aftermath of her creation and sure as hell the tail fondling moment of truth. As I said before, there's a lot more going on with her power than she let on. The is a specific reason she agreed to be locked away and why she chose to stay within the confines of the painted world. Reason that I damn well want to get into but I will not rush it. I've waited a long time to get this fluffy child in the story and I'm gonna do it right.
Righello Di'tutti (Regarding my mentioning of the prophets origin story)- Prophet is the Furtive Pygmy
My Response- GET THAT PREDICTABLE WRITING OUT OF HERE!
For the love of god, no. The prophet is most definitely not the furtive pygmy. Just gonna nip that idea in the bud. I'd almost hate myself if that was how I dealt with the Prophet moving forward. So no he is not.
Wizzer96- sigh...ok im saying this: the story is beautiful, like, reallly so. many of the characters were done really well and you made one of the most approchable mc that i ever read about. that is, until the amnesia thing, im not exactly against it but i feel that it put a block in the flow of the story, that flow being the weird crap that our mc would shout every 2 seconds. cuz of that he started acting in a way which made me actually start to DISLIKE the mc, i know i shouldnt because hes amnesic but...geez. its even worst that i can probably see that you will keep him like this until (or even after) he meet yuria in person, which is a lot of time (my one and true hope is that you will make him recuperate his memory by the end of the painted world arc, but i know is futile since it wouldnt make sense to give the mc amnesia only to introduce yuria :( ).
NOW that the rant has ended its time for "cool" ideas for the mc, one of which is the perfect time to put on use: it revolves around the phenomenon known as "cold burn"...yes your mind already knows the result but ill say it for others less rosarioxvampire and/or subzero fans: cryomancy. its one of the reasons i hope for a quick cure from the amnesia since hes inside the painted world, which is interpreted as very very cold, and has so many great "masters" to get inspiration from that varies from gray of fairy tail to subzero of mortal kombat, which are a lot. since i can see you are a passionate fan of the LoL lore i also suggest to use as inspiration the true ice from freljord (normal true ice from normal cryomancy and lissandras corrupted true ice for tainted cryomacy (cuz since its still realted to pyromancy it has retained some traits)) the trait moves that the pokemon kyurem possess (ofc nerfed, since nuking someone can be a little op).
P.S. i dearly suggest to use a slightly deformed devil teemo as the bed of chaos :)
My Response-I actually appreciate the critical reviews like this one. In complete admittance, the amnesia thing for the Prophet was born out my want for there to be a very real consequences with his meeting the business end of the Dark Hand. So i will say that I may have made a small blunder with that choice, but I think I'm gonna stick it out and try and make it work.
But I will definitely put a stop to your thinking that Prophet memory loss will extend to that length of meeting Yuria. I fully plan to restore the Prophet to his awesome self before he leaves the painted world. Without having to go into to much detail, I think I should remind you that Red Phantoms are very well know for leaving behind humanity when defeated. So the mad lad Jeremiah will be a definite focus for me when thinking of the Prophet returning to normal.
But more importantly, I want to say that just because the prophet isn't completely whole anymore, that does not mean the worlds just gonna stop on its ass while he gets it toghther. And I sure as hell won;t let the other three big dogs, Solaire, Oscar and Siegmeyer sit play backup like some rookies.
In an attempt not to spoil anything I plan to do, I'll just say that I reached out for a few outside opinions on what the three big boys role should be in the "Anor Londo Neverwar" arc (Not sure if thats the permenate name), and received an awesome response of, and i quote, "Dude, these three are freaking baddasses all on their own. When Velka goes looking for help, they shouldn't be like "We should wait for the prophet", they should be like "Step aside, bird lady. We'll take it from here." They might not beat Gwyndolin, but they should damn near steamroll everyone else. Especially, Soliare."
So currently, I'm kinda hooked on the idea of a war raging in anor londo not because the Prophet came back, but because the three big boys stepped up to the ass kicking plate. But I'm getting off topic.
Regarding our idea for cryomancy use, I think it might be a little too similar to crystal magic for it to be unique in its own right. Sure its a cold and freezing land, but I don't think it would warrant the prophet suddenly being able to change his pyromancy into another form altogether.
Alright boyo's, thats all I've got to say this time around. Hope you guys enjoy this brand new addition to the Derp Saga.
Warning: Due his recent transgression of delivering Christmas presents early, a bounty of "One date from Priscilla" has been issued out from one "Saint nick". To those who seek to claim this bounty, be warned that Supreme Gamer has hired Doomguy as a bodyguard for the remainder of the holidays. You have been warned. (And Merry Christmas.)
Two individuals stood in stark contrast to one another in the room of a nameless building. One cloaked is in fervent black and the other a welcoming pure white, but both gazed at one another with yellowed irises.
"Prithee. Thou should'st compose effort to not to gaze directly upon me." Priscilla said softly, her voice like velvet serenity upon the human's ears. "Thy desires shall only grow in intensity the longer thou looks."
Hearing her words and forcing himself to tear his eyes from the sight of her, the Prophet pulled his hood down slightly to shade his eye's before speaking in a somewhat sheepish fashion.
"Y-…Yeah…I got it. Don't stare." The Prophet said as he felt his desires to touch her fade to the back of his mind. Though it would be a lie if he said the urge was gone completely. "So now that you've been freed and healed, you mind if I asked how you ended up in a place like that?"
Hearing this, there was a small pause of hesitation from Priscilla as her gaze shifted away from him for a moment brief, before returning to peer down at him once again.
"I…was deceived."
At this, silence once more fell between the two. Her answer and the demeanor with which she spoke it told the Prophet clearly that he had brought up a subject she truly wished not to speak further on. So he decided that he would not to press the matter further.
"Right. Well…uh… I'm sorry that you ended up like that. It must have been a horrible experience." The prophet said after a few moments, not knowing what other response would be appropriate. "And sorry for being a bit hesitant to offer help before. Understand that I've been warned that this place is a den for dangerous creatures and people, so I assumed you might have been out to kill me like everything else I've bumped into here. It was simply a matter of weighing the risk."
"I do not condemn thy caution. I am grateful thou chose to aid me despite thy reservations." Priscilla said with a small bow of her large body, her eyes holding no sign of contempt or scorn. "Thou sought reassurance. There is no evil in that."
The Prophet was somewhat caught off guard by her blatant dismissal of his actions. He would have understood if she held some level of anger towards him, but she appeared to simply want to move past the subject.
"Well…I'm glad to hear that." The prophet replied simply to her words, once again not knowing what other response would be appropriate. "So what are you going to do now?"
At this question, the Prophet was met with only prolonged silence.
Glancing from beneath his hood at her for only a moment, he watched as she looked at him with uncertainty and anxiousness written across her face. Yet, she spoke not a single word to answer his question.
"Do you…not have a plan for where your gonna go?" the Prophet questioned plainly as he saw the look of hesitation upon her face. It was only at this further prodding did she finally speak.
"Pray thee, what destination does thou seek in this place?" she questioned, ignoring the Prophets inquiry. "Doth thou have a plan for thyself?"
"Me? My plan is simple: Fight through whatever gets in in my way and head straight for the exit. Escaping out of this place." The Prophet replied simply, seeing no reason to hide what he was planning to do. After all, he was far more concerned with what would follow after he escaped rather than the escape itself.
"Thou seeks to free thyself from the Painting? That would be most unwise." Priscilla said gravely. "The journey from hither shall be perilous one, taking thee to the very edge of this world and through the most densely populated areas. If thou hath misstepped into this world, then I am afraid thou shall find little hope in escape. Even if thou didst fare it, the wrath of Lord Gwyn and his retainers shall be all that would attend thee. If it be safety thy seeks, I could lead thee to it without question. But it would require that we head contrary to thy destination."
At this, the Prophet gave the barest hint of a chuckle before speaking once again.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm gonna have to pass." The Prophet said politely without hesitation. "I've got people counting on me on the outside. So if this Gwyn guy and a few jackasses are all that stand in the way, then I'm not seeing a problem. Except maybe Gwyndolin that is. But I'll keep going and cross that bridge when I get to it."
"What?" Priscilla said in a confused tone, looking for all the world like she couldn't believe she heard that right. "Nay. Why dost thee hurry to thine death? There are legions of the undead at every corner, those of flight endlessly prowl the rooftops and night sky, as well as disease ridden rats and-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm shakin in my boots." The Prophet said dismissively, further confusing Priscilla as to how he could remain so nonchalant about these things. "Look, I get that this place is dangerous, but my decisions been made. If something stands in my way, I'll overcome it and get back to those I want to protect. It's as simple as that for me."
With that, the Prophet look up from beneath his hood and stared up at the inhuman woman, wordlessly telling her that any further warning would be pointless.
As another round of silence fell between them, he could see an internal conflict begin to rage within her eyes. Her lips opened and closed for a moment as she debated with herself on what she would say next. After a few moments more of this indecision, her expression suddenly relaxed and softened as she came to a decision.
"Could I….Could I come with you?"
At this, the prophet raised an eyebrow at the woman before quickly shifting his gaze away as the thought of grasping her body suddenly seeped into his thoughts. After mentally reprimanding himself for a moment, he spoke the obvious question that would follow such a request.
"Why would you want to do that? You just said that where I'm headed is dangerous and that you know where to find safety." he questioned plainly. "Why would you possibly want to come along with me?"
Though he asked the question, the Prophet had already begun to form his own conclusions on her motives. She was locked away here for a reason, wasn't she? She probably couldn't get out on her own and wanted to use him to help her escape. She couldn't get her fill of life here due to everything either being undead or artificially created, so it was probably safe to assume she wanted to get free and gorge herself on the life of those on the outside.
Or maybe she was just going to use him as a spare snack in case she got hurt? That might be closer to the truth than any-
"It is because I am afraid." Priscilla said, cutting the Prophets train of thought completely. "I wish not to be alone."
Her words were spoken lowly, but with the same hint of desperation and pleading she had expressed when she was trapped in the darkness. It was a level of fear that could not be faked, begging for him to hear her words and understand what she was feeling.
Hearing what Priscilla wanted to do and now knowing that she would choose danger over being alone again, the Prophet suddenly became keenly aware of just how unsympathetic and paranoid his thinking had been. He'd been focusing solely on her powers and disregarded the fact she may simply only want to travel with someone who wasn't trying to kill her.
He'd focused only on what she was, instead of regarding her as someone who simply wanted to live…..not unlike what the gods had done by imprisoning her here.
With this realization hitting him firmly, the Prophet suddenly chose to walk forward until he was directly in front of her and meeting her gaze directly. Though she was almost twice his height and he only came up to her hips, he still made the effort to meet her eyes with his own.
Priscilla was more than a bit caught off guard to see that he was able to get so close to her and still somehow maintain enough control of himself to not try to touch her. As her power was based on the attraction his life force itself, it should not have been possible for him to hold any sort of resistance to its effects. At least not for very long.
"I understand, Priscilla. You don't have to ask or explain any further." The Prophet said seriously, his eye's never leaving hers as he attempted to display his sincerity. "I've made the mistake of thinking only with my head and none of my heart. But I won't let that happen again. If you really want to come with me, then you can….you can….you…"
The Prophets no doubt inspirational and heartfelt speech suddenly trailed off as thoughts of the soft fur and voluptuous figure Priscilla held flooded his mind. Slowly, whatever he was saying became entirely irrelevant when compared to the tall woman before him.
His mind going numb, his hands began to move on their own. They reached up and rubbed against the fur of her thigh in a mesmerized fashion.
"…Wow…thats…really nice…." the prophet thought as he began to grow increasingly handsy with her.
Priscilla released a small sigh from her nose before reaching down, grabbing hold of the prophets darkened hood and lowering it just enough that it covered his eye's.
"Thy failed to heed my warning. For what purpose would thy approach me in such a manner?" She said softly, without a hint on displeasure in her voice. She did not blame him for his actions, but that was no reason to let it go reprimanded. "Art thou so uncouth as to lack such judgment?"
…?! I am so sorry!" the Prophet said as his mind crawled back to reality and he realized what he was doing. Grabbing hold of his hood himself and allowing her to retract her hand, he backtracked in an embarrassing state.
"Regard naught of it. But I bid thee to remember that in seeking my touch, thy would find not but momentary satisfaction before being delivered thy doom." Priscilla said gently.
"Come on, that kind of talk isn't helping. If anything, it will only make me want to do it even more." The Prophet said, trying to hide the shame he'd attempted to do through words.
"Why would it cause thou to seek me more? I have just told thee it would result in thy death, did I not?" Priscilla said in confusion at his words.
"Just…Look, it's a human thing. If we're told not to go somewhere or not touch something, we get the urge to do the opposite. So when you tell me not to "seek your touch", I only kinda wanna do it more."
"Hmm…Forgive me, but I do not believe I understand such a strange phenomenon. Why would thou be attracted towards danger I could bring upon you? I see not the logic in that." Priscilla said as she tilted her head in even further confusion.
"Trust me, neither do I. But that's just how humans work." the prophet replied simply. "But anyway, if you want to come with me to the way out, then you're welcome to follow. But from now on, can you please try not to say things like "In seeking my touch, thy would find thy death" or anything like that?"
At this, Priscilla's blinked twice as she processed his words. She was glad that he was allowing her to come with him, but she found it strange that he did not want her to warn him of her abilities. Wouldn't only a fool attempt to seek something that could end them?
But nevertheless, she complied.
"I understand. I will speak no further on the matter."
With that, the Prophet turned on his heel and walked out of the room with his new traveling companion following him close behind.
Making their way down the stairway of the buildings entrance and back into the snowy landscape of the outside world, the Prophet face palmed as they made their way forward and were met at the obvious obstacle that had completely dropped from his mind.
"Ugh, that right. I was supposed to find a way to get past this thing." The Prophet said with annoyance as he came upon the large metal door that blocked the way forward, still just as unmoved as it was when he left it.
It was then that Priscilla stepped up and stood at his side, gazing upon the door right along with him.
"I was hoping to avoid this, but I guess I've got no choice but to backtrack and find another way around." The Prophet said his new companion. "Unless you happen to know a way to get this thing open."
"I do. I am the one who closed it." Priscilla stated plainly. "There is a lever within the darkness where thou found me."
"There is? Sweet. Give me two seconds to go and-"the Prophet started as he turned and began to walk back towards the building.
However, before he could go no further than two steps, Priscilla suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of him.
As he turned and looked up at her, the Prophet was surprised to see trepidation written across her face. It was only once she was certain that he had no intention of heading back did she retract her arm from holding him.
"Thou does not have to do that." Priscilla said softly, her eye's silently apologizing for grabbing him. But she could not help but react in such a way. She did not wish to even glance back towards that building, much less even think of letting him go back to the very hole she was confined inside. "I can remove this obstruction myself."
With that simple exclamation, Priscilla turned back to the door and raised her hand against its cold steel. Within moments of doing so did the metal begin to creak and shrivel into a dull, grayed form.
It could be safe to assume that she could probably drain it until it was nothing more than a rusted piece of useless tin, but there was no need for her to go any further as the door simply fell forward with a muffled thud upon the snow. Leaving the path forward open to any and all.
"Guess it would be pretty hard to keep you from going where you want, huh?" the prophet said with a smile as he looked up to the tall woman at his side. Who responded only a small nod of her head.
Without anther word, the Prophet led the way through the cleared pathway.
Making his way forward and keeping Priscilla's words of how dangerous it would be in mind, the Prophet was expecting to be swarmed not long after they made their way further within the prison. But after roughly twenty minutes of moving in silence and keeping his eyes open for any threats, he was surprised to find that there didn't seem to be any enemy to be found so far.
There were no crows upon the rooftops, nor any undead shambling from the shadows. All was eerily quiet.
That is until Priscilla decided to speak up at his side.
"If thou would forgive my prying, could I inquire why thou was sent to this world?" she questioned curiously.
Having traveled alone for days on end and being starved of conversation, it didn't take the Prophet more than a few moments to put together what he felt was the perfect response. The thought of which brought a bright smile upon his face.
"Heh, isn't it obvious? Its because I am criminal of the highest order. I've partaken in the most heinous crimes know to man. Including but not limited to: Unprovoked assault, loitering, disturbing the peace, public indecency, unprovoked assault again, unauthorized property recoloration, unflattering impersonation of an officer, theft of Ornstein's helmet when his guard was down, destruction of the peace, really petty larceny, illegal gardening, some more unprovoked assault, inciting mass hysteria, making fun of the peace, aggravated jaywalking and needlessly lying to officers about infamy."
Hearing all of this, Priscilla could only stare forward in clear bewilderment. In all her years of life, she had never been presented with such a…well…ridiculous string of words before. She quite honestly wasn't sure how she was expected to respond.
Until it finally clicked to her what he just did.
"Heh, I see. Thou invokes humor." she said with a small smile, of which she quickly banished from sight, her tail moving reflexively behind her.
"Heh, heh, was it the loitering gave it away?" the Prophet laughed, finding it funny to see that for just a moment she had taken it seriously. "But truthfully, I'm not exactly sure why I was sent here. I woke up in some bed, proceeded to get in a fight with Ornstein and a bunch of other guys, got caught by Gwyndolin and then he sent me here. As far as I could tell, it was because I knew something I wasn't supposed too."
"And what would that be?" Priscilla questioned.
"No idea." The Prophet replied with a sigh and a shrug. "I've tried thinking back on things, but it's a lot like looking at this prisons night sky. There nothing there no matter how hard I look…and the things I do remember are like a bunch of mashed together pieces. But I'm hanging onto the memories I have. To give them up would be the same as giving up the one's I care about."
As his words escaped his lip, Priscilla noticed that he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her. But more than anyone, she understood the importance of holding on to memories.
Just as she was going to question him further for more detail, the prophet spoke first.
"So what about you? I know you said you were sent here because they were afraid of what you could do, but that doesn't really give me much to go on." The prophet said.
"Oh? What more would thou wish to know of me?" Priscilla replied, suddenly feeling wary of what he would say next.
"Well, I'm kinda curious to know what you are exactly?" the Prophet said simply as he eyed her form for a moment before returning his gaze forward. "You said you we're made to create something "new", but what kind of "new" involves a thirteen foot, fluffy tailed….um…lizard woman?"
"Wha-? Tis rude to make such crass assumptions from my appearance alone. I am not a lizard." Priscilla said in an offended tone, telling the Prophet that he had perhaps unintentionally struck a nerve. "Mine is that of the draconic lineage and another being."
"Draconic? So you're part dragon? the Prophet said putting a thumb to his chin in thought. "Wait, dragons are still lizards, aren't they? They got the scaly skin, cold blood, those awesome forked tongues that flick around sometimes. So doesn't that technically make you -"
"No, it doth not make me part lizard! They may share many qualities with the draconic, but I assure thee that they are not the same thing." Priscilla said with a pout, her tail bristling somewhat in response to her emotion. "Mine ancestors were proud and noble beings. Benevolent in their actions. To compare them to that of a simple beast is nothing more than the actions of a knave."
Hearing this, laughed aloud at her reaction. He didn't know why, but there was something incredibly amusing about seeing Priscilla so flustered and pouty. His laughter had the added effect of causing her to grow further embarrassed and even blushing slightly. Though, thanks to her abilities, the Prophet would never see such a thing.
It was all simple and friendly fun until goosebumps suddenly crawled along the Prophets back. Whether it was his instincts or just plain paranoia, the hesitated only a single second before suddenly moving away from Priscilla, putting a few feet of distance between them and turning back towards her.
As he kept his eye's low to the ground so that he was not looking directly at her but high enough that he could be sure she was standing before him, it quickly became apparent to the Prophet that he had made the right decision in stepping away from her as what he could only describe as a strong ambiance was currently emanating from her body.
It was quite the off-putting sight.
"Oh…I-Oh, my…I-I'm sorry!" She stammers, before closing her eye's and hurriedly regaining control of her power. With shame written across her face, she cast her gaze down at the Prophet and was quick to apologize for her actions. "I did not mean to….It was not my intention to bring harm to thee…"
"What the heck was that? I thought you said you could control your powers." the prophet questioned plainly.
"I-I am indeed capable of controlling my abilities, but to do so I must maintain a continuous state of focus. I merely lost sight of that focus for but an instant. A-And I still have to touch you for it to be of any danger. But I shall not let it befall again, I swear it." Priscilla said, apologetically.
The Prophet looks up, staring at the face of the large woman. Seeing the genuine look of
"Its alright. But prithee, pray tell for a fortnight, why doth thou locute thine tongue in such a forthwith manner of concurrence?"
Her mouth opens slightly in surprise before her calm demeanor dissolves into a fit of laughter. She double over, her tail swishing furiously in mirth.
She wipes tears from her eyes as she spoke her next words.
"I think most of those words do not mean what you think they do." She gasps regaining her composure. To which the Prophet shrugs with a smile on his face. He'd intended to wash away any misgivings she might have of her abilities around him, but simply telling her that might be a bit to presumptuous.
However, though he was glad that he could get a bit of a laugh out of her, it quickly became apparent that she had lost focus once again as the aura of death emanated from her once again.
"Uh, Priscilla? Heh, you might wanna reign that in a bit there." The Prophet said with a knowing smile, causing her to once again go ridged with surprise before she restrained herself once again.
"T-That was thy fault that happened." Priscilla said, clearly embarrassed that she'd slipped up immediately after saying she wouldn't let it happen again.
Taking note of reactiveness of her powers, the prophet chuckled for a moments before returning his attention back to walking forward.
"So that's how your little "Lifehunt" trick works, huh? It manifests alongside your stronger emotions and you suppress it by keeping a clear head?" The Prophet mused aloud, seemingly not concerned in the slightest by her minor slip up.
"Um…yes." Priscilla replied as she followed behind him. Surprised by his continued relaxed demeanor with her as well as her power being referred to as a "Little trick".
"Huh. Small world. It's pretty similar to what I can do."
"What?" Priscilla said, her curiosity instantly peaked as she picked up picked up pace until she was directly at his side. "Can thou take the essence of others as I do?"
"No. But my abilities and power work in tandem with my mental and emotional state. Growing in potency, accordingly so." The prophet explained simply. "At least that's what Velka said before Gwyndolin sent me here. The details are a little murky here and there, but I think it's got something to do with me being her champion or something. But I'm not to sure about that because she only gave me the mark right before-."
"Wait, wait, wait, what did you just say?!" Priscilla said going completely wide eyed, not even able to hold her noble tone after hearing what she just heard. "Thou art champion to Velka?!"
As if beckoned by her question, a great deal of dry, guttural moans sounded from the building around them. As expected, multiple hollows crept free from the building's inner workings as well as the surrounding alleys. Their disheveled and crumbling armor as well as their unsightly bodies showing them to be nothing more than shriveled husk of their former selves.
As their numbers visibly grew from five to ten to twenty and further onward, Priscilla stopped in her tracks and began to glance around them. Holding her fear at bay and maintaining control of her mind, she searched for a way out. Finding that the only escape was back the direction they'd come.
But it quickly became apparent to her that the Prophet was not even considering such a decision as he did not so much a slow down at the rising numbers before him.
"Priscilla, you said you could meld into your surroundings, right?" the Prophet questioned. "Well, stick close and let me handle this. As incredibly tedious as it is, I need to use these guys to improve myself."
"What art thou talking about? We cannot fight through so many of them." Priscilla countered, seeing as their window for escape was growing narrower by the second. "Please. If thou aims to rely on my power, know that you will find little use for it against those that no longer live. The time to flee is now."
FWOOOSH
Suddenly, the Prophets cloak seemed to waver and move as flames as dark as the night sky swarmed over it. Soon after, four ethereal broken swords appeared just over his shoulder. The combination of these two powers, making Priscilla's fur stand on end as her eye's grew as wide as they'd ever been before.
"By Gwyn…" She whispered she took a step away from him.
Willing two of his blades to fly into the grasp of his hands while the remaining two continued revolve around his body, the Prophet turned around gave a cocky smile before speaking to Priscilla once again.
"Don't worry, Cil. You can trust me when I say I won't let anything happen to you. So have a little faith, okay?"
With that, the broken swords that orbited around the Prophet suddenly halted in midair, sharply turned their blades towards the approaching hollows and shot forward.
The very second the two blades pierced the skulls of his nearest foe did the prophet sprint toward the encroaching mob.
For Priscilla, there was a great deal of conflict and hesitation. The way to safety was still free and clear right behind her.
Her reasons for traveling with the prophet came out of fear and desperation. She was crippled and dying when he found her. Unable to move from the dark that surrounded her and wallowing in ceaseless pain. But even with all that, more than anything, she sat in perpetual fear that a certain human in golden armor would step free of the darkness and finish what he started.
It was meant to be a slow and terrifying death.
So when a unknown human had walked free of the dark and laid hands on her scythe, it wasn't a matter of trust. It was a ray of hope. A chance for her to live. Trust simply wasn't a factor at the time. She was grateful that he had helped her and got the feeling that he was a kind soul once his suspicion of her had subsided.
But now he was asking her to put her trust in him.
"Run. Flee. The moment you fall behind and slow him down, he will not look back. Or better still, make use of you then leave you to your fate. Just as the others did…"
Her thoughts raged. Fear and mistrust urged her to not follow him. But another side of her mind stayed her from turning her back and running.
"He helped me, didn't he? He did not leave me to die when he had every reason to. Doesn't that mean he's one of the good ones? Will you leave him to his fate alone…. just as Lautrec did to you…?"
The crossbreeds jaw clenched as her hands tightened around her scythe, before her body wavered and instantly faded out of sight. Leaving nary a trace that anyone was ever standing there at all.
And so it was that the Prophet did what he did best and charged headfirst into the mob of hollows.
His movements had long since grown fluid and seamless with the broken blades. Raising one of them up, he allowed it to fly forward ahead of him in the hands of one of his mirages and cut through the throat of an approaching hollow. The beginnings of a dance he had mastered for quite some time.
Getting into a rhythm of ending each one of the creature's life with a single precise strike, he'd already killed nine more before he got directly in the middle of the growing number of enemies and continued to charge forward.
A thrust through a hollows eye, a shift on his heel, swing to cut the throat of one approaching from behind, a shift of his stance, a stab through the side of the neck, another shift followed by an upward thrust through the heart. The motions and reactions came as easily as breathing.
The hollows numbers counted for nothing when their movements were so telegraphed, and their targets speed and reflexes completely outmatched their own. In the span of a few moments, twelve hollows had fallen. In the next the span of three more, that number increased to twenty-one, then twenty-seven, then to thirty and so forth. For each one of their number that crawled from the shadows, he simply cut down two more.
Quite frankly, it was painfully monotonous for the Prophet, but he fought them with the intention of further honing himself. As broken blades twirled and alternated in his hands, he could only think "Velka would have done it faster…" or "That swing was too wide. If it were golden boy I was fighting, he'd take my head with that opening…"
After a few minutes of maintain constant battle, the onslaught slackened for a moment. Leaving the Prophet to eagerly cast his eyes on his surroundings to find more hollows. So preoccupied was he with this task that he did not notice the slight sound of wings beating the in the air until it was far too late.
"ABOVE YOU!" a voice behind him suddenly shouted in warning as one of the crow creatures flew towards the Prophet and painfully sank its talons into his shoulders, before flapping its wings and dragging him forward.
It was then that a second of its starving kind crashed into his moving brethren, likely wanting to partake in the snack it had just captured.
Though it was knocked off balance by its kin, the crow holding onto the Prophet had enough sense to know now was the time to dog pile upon its meal. Dragging him forward until he fell forward onto the ground, the creature released the Prophets body and, alongside its kin, proceeded to move pounce on his back while he was down.
The Prophet was firmly aware how much he'd just screwed up by failing to keep his eyes to the sky. If he didn't react now and get back on his feet, he was a deadman.
Unfortunately, the first instinct that his made defaulted to was to use his pyromancy, but his mind halted this instinct with a single thought.
"Don't! You'll burn Priscilla too!"
At that moments that it had become clear that, since he had traveled alone beforehand, the Prophet had neglected to learn how to use his pyromancy on a lesser scale than a grand explosion. This instance of realization would cost him as the second plan of action that entered him mind was to use his sorcery.
But it would take a single moment too long for him to focus himself to do so, more than enough time for the crow currently hovering over him to pierce his skull with its beak and make him into its meal.
SHLICK
Or it would have had he been alone.
Just as the creature prepared to finish the job, an unseen blade suddenly sliced cleanly through is body. For a few moments the abomination remained frozen in place as sharp cold suddenly gripped its waits, before its body finally realized that it had been cut and severed directly at the middle.
Just before the blood could pour over and drench the Prophets body, every single drop of it seemed to be drawn into the air and soaked inside into what the prophet could only assume was her scythe.
The remaining crow paused in complete shock and befuddlement as it screeched loudly at the empty open space at its side before two magic spears suddenly descended from the night sky above and pierced straight between its head and body.
After killing the immediate threat to his life, the Prophet was quick to get back to his feet and glared at the hollows still crawling that seemed to have made their way towards the commotion of battle as well as the three crows that had perched upon the buildings around him. Though it was completely his fault it happened, the prophet was angered that one of their kind had gotten the drop on him.
He was done taking it easy. They wanted a fight? Then was going to give them one.
FWOOOSH
Letting his vexation guided him, the Prophet further stoked his pyromancy and utilized it to its greatest degree, sending a wave of heat all around him and causing his surroundings to warp and waver. Even the bone chilling cold of the painted world was not enough to suppress the power of his Black Pyromancy in the slightest.
He'd refrained from using it for the purpose of actually having to fight and get better, but no longer.
It was unfortunate that he was simply not aware of just how oppressive the power he gave off was. For the sudden and unrelenting wave of heat caught Priscilla completely unaware. As the heat fell upon her body, she shielded her eyes with her arm to dissuade the sudden assault and lost focus of herself.
In that moment, her body had faded back into full view of everyone in the vicinity.
Standing directly within the center of the horde, it came as no surprise that the hollows and the crows all stopped dead all stopped dead in their tracks.
A heavy silence suddenly filled the air. The hollows all stood as still as statues and moved not an inch, the crows appeared to become little more than gargoyles upon the rooftops and made not a sound. They all simply froze in place and stared down at the crossbreed.
Seeing this, Priscilla's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she realized that everything and every one of them had her in their sights. After all, I didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen next.
SCREEEEEEEECH
In an instant and at the exact same time as one another, the crows released a cry that was filled with every ounce of all-consuming desire they now felt.
Creature such as them had never know purpose and, for lack of a better phrase, simply existed for the sake of existing, but now…that towering white figure below was all they could ever hope to seek out. Her image imprinted upon their minds and pulled at their hunger.
No longer even registering that the Prophet was even there, they all charged towards her. The crows dived directly off the rooftops with their wings flapping with desperation to reach their target, the hollows sprinted forward as if they were possessed madmen with their eye's focused solely on reaching their target.
As all this took place, Priscilla froze as a deep fear gripped her heart. This scene was far too familiar. Crows coming from above, hollows at every turn. Her memories stirred with her to an almost frighteningly degree.
"Run! You must shield yourself and run!" Her mind pleaded desperately to her. But she found that she couldn't think straight enough to focus and utilize her abilities. The thought that this was exactly how she ended up injured before stayed at the forefront of her thoughts.
Priscilla felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen. Tension grew in her Achilles heel as her mind replayed what had led to such pain in the first place. It was then, like a child suddenly finding themselves in a waking nightmare, that her mind focused on finding one single image amongst the crowed. The monster that she knew had to be waiting just outside of sight, eager waiting for a chance to come for her.
Even with all of the hollows coming for her, even with the crow bearing down from above, she could only focus on scanning the mob for the visage of gold.
"He's here…He's here…he's coming for me…"
Suddenly, almost unconsciously, her eyes sought out a black cloak that should have stood out prominently amongst the white of the snow. But it was nowhere to be found. The Prophet was gone?
As the realization reached her thoughts, Priscilla felt a great pain in her chest knowing that the Prophet had smiled and asked for her trust, only to discard her and leave her behind without so much as a word.
As the crows dived down upon her and the hollows closed in at all sides, she was only left with the pain of being left to die. With only seconds left before the crow's talons reached her, Priscilla could only bring herself to wonder if the Prophet even looked back before he left.
SHLICK-SCHLUCK-SHLICK
"Huh?"
All the fear she felt was overcome by the sudden sense of confusion as three floating blue spears suddenly raced from beside her and killed each of the crows by piercing them directly through their chest. Before she could even try to figure out what had happened, a familiar form suddenly appeared from thin air between her and the approaching hollows.
"What the heck are you doing? Pull yourself together and snap out of it, Priscilla!"
She could only stare in a wide-eyed stupor as her next words escaped her lips almost involuntarily.
"…Prophet?..."
"Don't lose your head and freeze up on me. I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you and I meant it. So don't be afraid."
FWOOOOSH-BOOOSH
Saying nothing more, the Prophet willed forth his black pyromancy and formed it into a sphere in his hand. Now the he knew Priscilla would not be harmed in the crossfire; he was able to use it as he pleased. He then threw the sphere directly in the center of the encroaching horde, easily killing all that were within the vicinity of the detonation and sending the rest flying like rag dolls into the walls of the buildings.
Soon enough, the sounds of wings beating the air around them became quite evident to them both.
The Prophet himself was more than ready and eager to take on any number of them the came. Between the two of them, only Priscilla was focused on was the fact that he had just blow a clear and open path forward between the hollows.
She saw in his expression the words he didn't say, before whispering her next words just loud enough that she knew he would hear.
"Prophet….trust in me." she said softly as she closed her eye's next to him.
"Wha-!?" was all the Prophet could say before a powerful and harsh wind suddenly surged around him and grew into it became a raging whiteout.
If the Prophets ability was to drench his surroundings in heat to form his illusions, then it was rightly said that what Priscilla was doing was the exact opposite. As the world around them both became nothing more than a blinding white, it quickly became apparent to the Prophet that he was being overwhelmed by the cold.
His breath came with a sharp and piercing pain as crystals of ice entering his throat. The aura of heat his pyromancy gave off was conquered easily by the swirling storm of blanketing white, as if it were little more than matchstick trying to stand against the ice age.
The Prophet raised a hand to shield his eyes to save them from the angry winds. But he could do nothing to stop the crystals of ice from pelting against his arms and cheeks. Whatever magic Priscilla was using, it was almost enough to make him fall to his knees to find any warmth that he could.
It was then that he was suddenly grabbed by his hand and dragged forward through the whiteout.
He felt as if he was gliding through the air for a moment, before pulling himself together and hitting the ground running. Where he was going, he had no idea. But there would be no discussion to be had as whatever had him, held his hand in a strong vise.
And so, as if his was a child being herded by its parent, the Prophet was led forward. His sprinting only just barely able to keep up with the long strides taken by his guide. Squinting his eye's through the blizzard, he could just make out the shadows up above that were flying past them and toward their previous position.
Following this revelation, he soon felt a weakening pain begin to seep into his body. It was the same feeling he got when he touched Priscilla's scythe, but on a far lesser degree. There was magic was magic within the cold. One that sapped not only his warmth, but his essence as well.
He was about to try and break free of the hold on his hand when he remembered Priscilla's words to him. When she said "trust in me" she meant she wanted him to put aside his fear of her power and the pain he may feel to let her guide him to safety.
Smiling wryly, The Prophet tightening his hand around hers and picked up his pace to better keep up. She twitched in surprise, but after a moment she tightened her hold around him as well, much to the Prophet dismay as he could swear his hand was about to snap like a twig beneath the pressure.
Still though he persisted in his efforts and the two sprinted forwards through the raging cold together. They could not have gone more than a few minutes before Priscilla stopped in her tracks, seeming to be even more out of breath than the Prophet himself. It seemed that whatever she was doing to keep this blizzard going was taking a lot out of her.
He could see her looking around as if she was attempting to find a path to take, but the prophet felt wouldn't be able to take much more of her magic and decided to rely on an old trick.
BOOSH
Breaking her hold on his hand, the Prophet approached the nearest buildings door and blew it open with his pyromancy.
"In here." The Prophet said, the pain he was feeling more than evident in his voice.
Without any word of opposition, Priscilla bent over and stepped through the doorway with the Prophet following behind and closing the door as he came in.
The buildings inner workings was almost completely identical to the last one he used for this tactic of hiding. An empty and dark room comprised of nothing but solid stone. But if one were to look for a positive, this build did not have a hole in its roof.
Seemingly not concerned with the lack of furnishings in their current hiding hole, the two slumped against the furthest wall away from the doorway. Each one desperate to try and catch their breath.
Eventually though, they did regain themselves. At least, Priscilla certainly did.
The Prophet himself was finding it quite the task to shirk off the cold that clung to him. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't find the strength to will his pyromancy to the surface and warm him. It was almost like a layer of frost had formed over a part of his inner self.
But he did not panic.
He could feel the flame ever so slowly work its way back up to it proper state deep inside himself. He just needed time to allow it to fester and grow. But these thoughts took a back seat as he suddenly heard Priscilla's murmured words.
"…Why?..."
"Hm? Did you say something?" the Prophet said.
"Why didn't thou flee?!" Priscilla screamed, the anger in her voice surprising the Prophet.
Now that they were free from danger and alone, she could not help but demand answers from him. She needed to know what his purpose for staying was. She needed to know more because whether she liked it or not, he had granted her that one thing that she had been forced to never trust. He'd granted her a bit of joy.
Though he would have a hard time seeing it with the way she was currently glaring at him.
"Why did thou stay to aid me? Why didn't thy run and leave me behind?"
"What?" the Prophet replied with a tilt of his head, though he refrained from looking directly at her.
"There is no way thou did not realized the opportunity granted to thee. What could thou hope to gain by staying? What seeketh thee?"
The confused look of the Prophets face only served too make Priscilla's voice even more heated. Her sudden rage burned through the last wall of self-restraint she held.
"What art thou, Prophet?! An idiot?! A buffoon?! A moron beyond all hope of recovery?!"
"Moron…?! Wait, Cil, calm down. Your powers are-"
"Impossible! Thou art a fool who knows not of anything! I spoke that I could attract life, but you thought not to ask how potent my abilities were! I spoke not to thee that those of flight as well as the undead are drawn to me if I am near them! That means that if thou stays with me, it would be the same as walking with a beacon at thy side! Even now, there is a chance the undead could find us here easily if they happen to wonder near the door!"
The Prophets mouth twitched as this information came to light.
Priscilla would not stop. A little voice in the back of her head was frantically saying "Stop!" but it was no use. She was terrified to the point of freezing up before, reminded of the person who left her to die in the first place and now she was sitting next to someone who's intentions she could not figure out.
But now, in her confusion and anger, she confessed herself and undoubtedly all but severed the chances of him wanting to travel with her.
"So now you know the truth. There is only death in traveling with me! So you don't have to pretend anymore! Tell me what your true aim was in helping me!"
Priscilla was gasping for breath as she looked at the prophet. She had no clue what she was hoping to hear. But her heart was beating a mile a minute, faster than it should be even now.
Seeing her in such a distressed and emotional state, the Prophet found himself wanting to do whatever he could to bring her back to the smiling woman he spoken with not long before. But he knew that if he just told her the truth of why he stayed right from the start, she'd deny that it was the truth.
He needed to say something to get her deviate from her anger first.
"You really want to know the truth, Priscilla? I'm warning you; you won't like what I have to say." The Prophet said to her in a serious tone.
"Y-Yes. Just tell me."
There was a long pause between them for a few moments. Each second that ticked by fell heavy upon Priscilla's mind. He'd just admitted it what she already knew to be true. There truly was a hidden motive behind his actions. It was killing her to wait, but she said not a word to break the silence.
And so finally, the prophet gave her his answer.
"It because I was gonna fondle your tail when your guard was down."
"-WHAT!?" Priscilla's entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire.
He fists clenched; her shoulders rose to her ears in anger. Her emotions were boiling over and she had no idea why. She couldn't understand this explosion of discontent.
"ID-IOT! Thou art an IDIOT! That is your answer?! You risked your life for an opportunity to grab hold of my appendage!? Would thee fight just for any woman with an attractive feature then? I can't believe this! Thou art a fiend! A deviant! Pervert! Enemy of women!"
For some reason, tears leaked out of Priscilla's eyes during her rant. She was in no position to be saying any of it, but she unloaded all of her discontent on the man sitting beside her.
Discontent? About what? He helped her and did not shun her when he now had every reason too. What was this fire in her chest- no, her whole body- trying to say? She didn't have any idea.
The Prophet withstood the latest tirade, Priscilla was once again panting for breath.
Relaxing himself and smiling, the Prophet cast his gaze towards her and looked directly into the eyes of the white furred crossbreed.
"Well then, because you're Priscilla."
"-"
Reptilian eyes went as wide as they could go.
"I stayed because you're you, Priscilla. I didn't want you to disappear."
"W-What?" she said softly.
"There's nothing else to it. Why do I need a better reason to protect you other than that?"
There was further silence between them as Priscilla stared long and hard into the Prophets yellowed eyes. He didn't know. He simply had no idea what words like that meant to someone like her. For a few seconds, her mind outright decreed that he had to be lying when he said them. But after looking in his eye's and finding not a trace of deception hidden within them, a sudden watery pressure built up in her eyes.
She tried to resist the clenching in her chest, truly she did. She spent years practicing control over herself to avoid reactions such as this. But her tear ducts gave out nonetheless. A waterfall of tears gushed from her eye's, flowing down her face in all directions.
Priscilla couldn't hold back any longer and cried out.
"Hic…waaaaaah!"
"Priscilla, if you ever feel afraid or sad, come talk to me. I'm an idiot, so I won't know unless you tell me."
"Hic…! Waaaahh!…"
"Come on, don't cry. Makes me feel like I messed up or…. or…"
With tears still in her eye's and on her face, Priscilla quickly realized that the Prophets eyes had suddenly dulled as his body and muscles relaxed. She also became aware that the wall at her back and the floor beneath her was crumbling as she unconsciously sapped their essence.
Obviously completely enraptured and bewitched by her, the Prophet reach up to stroke her hair. Only for Priscilla to beat him to the punch by quickly regaining control of her power, before placing a hand on his hood and lowering it over his eye's.
After a few moments, the Prophet was once again back to himself.
"Okay, I know that didn't end how I wanted it, but-OOF!"
Before the Prophet could finish his sentence, Priscilla leaned over and gave the Prophet a firm and friendly hung.
Or at least that's what she meant to do. Still currently being a bit emotional, she had grossly underestimated her size and strength when compared to his. So what was meant to be a friendly hug could only be seen as Priscilla forcing the Prophet to the ground and wrapping her arm around him tightly.
In a fantasy, this action would be considered quite adorable and perhaps even romantic. But in reality….
"OOOG! Priscilla…you're crushing me." The Prophet said through the pain of her hold.
"Hic, I thank thee, Prophet. Thou art a good person." Priscilla cried through teary eyes.
"Ugh, that's nice, but seriously you're really heavy." the Prophet said plainly.
"Tis rude to say that to a woman. I thought thou claimed to be a friend." Priscilla cried like a child as her hold on the prophet tightened that much further.
"OOOG! Okay, Okay, I take it back. You're not heavy. Not even a little. It was just my imagination." the prophet said in as bright a tone as he could manage. Honestly, he was just trying to make sure she didn't tighten even further and snap him like a twig. Which apparently succeeded as she thankfully slackened her hold, much to the Prophets relief.
Though his armor and cloak got in the way, Priscilla didn't seem to care.
She was aware that his smaller body might be a bit overwhelmed by being held by someone as large as her, but so what? Did it really make her such a bad person to not care at the moment? She been through a great deal of suffering of her own and even now she could not truly express her gratitude lest she kill him with her power. So if all she wished was but a bit of time for a hug, was it so unreasonable to ignore his squirming.
Besides, he had outright told her of his intentions regarding her tail. Was this not the best way to ensure that he could not do anything underhanded or uncouth to her?
And so it was that they both laid there. One trapped beneath a weight of fluff and one refusing to release its hold.
After a few minutes of silence, the prophet finally spoke up once again.
"Uh…Cil? I think that's enough. You can let me go now."
"…"
"Priscilla?"
"Zzzzz…..Zzzzzz….
"Oh, no. Priscilla? Priscilla, wake up." the Prophet said as he struggled futilely against her body pressing against his. "Come on, I know this isn't a comfortable way to sleep. You're only proving my point about the lizard thing, you kno-OOOG!"
"Mmmh." Priscilla moaned groggily as she squeezed him a bit tighter for his words, before making herself more comfortable laying on top of him and allowing herself to fall back into the deeper recesses of sleep.
He'd struggle for a few minutes more before inevitably sighing in resignation and deciding to just accept his current position. And so it was that he would remain there, his hood blinding him, his body pinned to the floor and a massive crossbreed snoring cutely on top of him.
On the bright side, at least her fur would do wonders in keeping him warm while she took her catnap.
HOLD IT! JUST HOLD ON FOR A SECOND!
Now I'm just gonna speak a few words that I know I'm gonna hear from you guys, so let me nip them in the bud before you can even bring them up.
Firstly, I had to take a bit of liberties with Priscilla's personality as, surprisingly, there wasn't to much to work with other than a few lines of in-game dialogue. So yes, I gave her a bit of a childish yet somewhat mature kind of personality. Waiting to your outside opinions on how I did on that one.
Secondly, yes, the prophet could definitely have defeated all those crows and hollows that surrounded them. As far as I my mindset is on things, with the Power of Velka's covenent, only the big boys like Jeremiah, the heavy knight or the undead dragon pose true threats to his life. But I want Priscilla to behave as if she's the normal one of the two of them. So when they are surrounded by twenty or thirty hollows and the crows are closing in, I'd imagine her to be the one to think "We need to leave before quickly. Before we're surrounded." As much of her power will only land her in more danger if she herself stayed and fought. As it stands, she doesn't have much faith in the Prophet fighting ability just yet.
Thirdly, considering who she is and the nature of her power, yes, Priscilla is more than capable of overpowering the Prophets flames and his sorcery. A topic that I will go into far greater detail to explain next chapter is that Lifehunt is goddamn broken. And I don't mean that to say that its strong. I mean to say that its broken to the point that it could almost be considered hax.
With everything that I've looked up about her, I've decided to place Priscilla on a power scale all her own as EVERYTHING holds essence within it that should can siphon. Pyromancy, sorceries, thew grass on the outside world, the lord souls, heck maybe ever the dark soul. I want to express the exact reason Priscilla was so feared that they build an entire goddamn world to hold her. She's not just a pretty face. She's something that hold the potential to turn the entire order of the world on its head. I won't spoil anything more than that, but damn am I excited to get started. Although, I will say creatures that are not truly alive, like hollows, Primordial Serpents or dragons, will have a much easier time dealing with her.
Fourthly, I want to say though I know it wasn't brought up this time around, their will be a conversation between the two about the unusual potency of the Prophet soul and why Priscilla reacted the way she did to it. So don't think I've let that slip my mind.
And finally, I want everyone to keep in mind that the Prophet has just been humbled by Priscilla. He's seen that he needs better control over his Pyromancy and has a ways to go. So the next chapter will 100% include a new ability regarding said pyromancy. A lot of you guys have brought up the idea of using Iron flesh as an obvious choice and I'm loving that idea.
I may be getting a bit ahead of myself, but I'm drooling over the idea of the Prophet willing his pyromancy to form black, scale-like gauntlets along his arms and wrist and his face. Giving himself an almost dragon man like appearance similar to Devil Jin from tekken. But that just me throwing out idea's.
But I've definitely babbled long enough now.
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 interactions with one another natural or a bit to cliched? Was Priscilla's power a bit too strong when compared to the Prophets? Are you upset that I still haven't had the prophet get up on that tail yet?
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 opinion will have a huge effect on how this story will play out.
This is Supreme Gamer, Signing out.
P.S. I swear, I'm not avoiding the tail fondling. I swear! But after waiting to get this point for so long, I want the moment of truth to be perfect! Trust me, I'm just as ready for it as you guys are, but dammit one does not simply fondle the fluff all willy nilly! It must be both sensual and wholesome, you fools!
P.P.S. Speaking of wholesome, though this chapter lacked in the cute crossbreed moment, don't think I'm missing out on some of the more "Questionable" interactions between her and the prophets. They may be nothing but friends right now, but the moments are just too fun for me to pass up. After all, thicc dragon thighs save lives.