The wind whipped his hair, the distant cries of hawks carried with it. Owain was as stone. The second of the demigods he had been reunited with and it left him feeling even lower than the first. Who were these broken souls and fractured wills that were so changed? Morgott was deeply embittered, mien aged far greater than a few decades should have wrought. Melina had not even a body, only a scattered mind and lost purpose! The sentinel shouted frustrated curses into the wind. Alas! Alas, that he had not been strong enough to triumph in his first life!
Re-armed and re-armored, he strode towards the main gate of Stormveil. Owain could not let melancholy take him, even if its grip was ever tightening. As he reverently touched the gateside grace, he eye'd the crumbling buttresses, the failing walls, the debris scattered about what was a once pristine fortress. It was past time to give Godrick his due.
A spindly Albinaric man awaited him at the gate side. "Y-you there," came his stuttered whisper, "You're tarnished aren't you? I'd advise against taking the main gate, it's guarded by many hardened old hands."
The stench of stale blood wafted from the man, and Owain misliked the shifting of his beady eyes. "Hail; open the main gate. I've not time to dawdle." The man made to protest but Owain only leveled his spear at his chin. A call to open the gate came without delay.
That the core of Godrick's forces were made up of exiled prisoners spoke well to his true nature. At least the interior defenses were of better mettle than their fore-guard brethren. It took Owain the rest of the day to cull them. If but one more crossbow was fired at him, he'd fully lose his temper.
He could spy frightened servants waiting in hidden wings and deep shadows, their frames were all of a kind; skeletal and battered. As he passed the sullied kitchens, he dispatched another of the limbful beings that had first attacked him on the island chapel. It seemed he had found a 'spider'. The grotesque pile of mingled flesh only incensed him further. At least he'd been able to retrieve a keep sake of the young woman's troops for her.
The pale light of the moon was upon him when he finally decided he must rest. Owain was making his way through a small courtyard when he heard the distant sound of a skirmish emanate from a lowered cellar. Upon closer inspection, he came upon a muscled woman, dark of skin and clad in the furs of a badlands warrior, giving last rights to one of Godrick's banished knights.
The woman readied herself for battle when she heard the scuff of his greaves on the stone staircase that served as the rooms only entrance. "You're not one of Godrick's lot, are you?" She holstered her dual axes, "No, certainly not, no tree sentinel would serve him." She thrust forth a hand, "I am Nepheli Loux, warrior." He slid his visor up.
Owain clasped her forearm firmly, "Owain, Sentinel." His speech faltered, another memory took hold of him.
"It is misfortune that thou'rt so besotted with the lunar princess, young Wain!" Owain froze, how long had Lord Godfrey know about his affections toward Ranni? "Be at ease, I am not angry. I only wish mine first daughter had made the journey with me to these Lands Between. Were it so that thee couldst be mine son. It would greatly please all my progeny." The gargantuan man roared with laughter.
It still sometimes shocked Owain how much the monarch would let slip when he was so deep in his cups. "I am greatly honored at the thought, my lord." The sentinel breathed out a sigh of relief, he'd thought he might have to choose between his beloved princess and the lord he so wholly served. The choice would break him, he knew.
Reality slammed once more into his senses as his armored knee crashed to the floor, webbing out small cracks. "Are you hale, Ser Owain?" The deep voice of his lord's daughter became clearer as she spoke.
"Ah, forgive me, Lady Nepheli. My memories oft steal my countenance."
She chuckled as she helped him to his feet. "Nothing to forgive then, cept I'm no lady. I've not had the problem with memories, but I've met many a tarnished who did."
He took in the features of her face before he spoke, picking out the similarities between sire and daughter. "I served your father for many years in my first life, he was an honorable and righteous lord."
Surprise flit across her face. "My foster father? So you know of Ser Gideon Ofnir, The All Knowing? You speak true that he is an honorable lord indeed!"
He frowned. "No, Lady. I speak of Lord Godfrey, the first Elden Lord."
They stared at each other for long moments. "I do not take your meaning." She said, voice tightening.
"You are daughter to Lord Godfrey…" At her blank stare, he continued. "Perhaps you knew him only as Horah Loux. He would oft speak to me of his time as a chieftain in the bad lands." A callused hand gripped his forearm firmly as the woman swayed on her feet.
His own hands steadied her, he knew well how overwhelming these returning memories could be. Her dark eyes regarded him seriously once she recovered her stance. "I…remember him now, my...father." She shook her head to clear the daze. "Is it always like this?" She asked, breathily.
"Sometimes it is much worse." Owain laughed. "I aim to seek safe shelter within the castle for the night, care you to repast with me?"
Lady Nepheli looked at him oddly, "You will not make for round table hold?"
Lady Melina had apprised him of the hold a few days prior, he had yet to enter it. Owain would see Godrick dead before he entertained any distractions. "Nay, I seek the grafted's death as swiftly as possible. Much must be done to restore Limgrave and I am needed elsewhere posthaste."
"Seek you his great rune as well then? I aim to collect it for my…foster father." She shook her head again with a growl.
Owain paused, he knew not of the lady would fight him for the rune but he would never raise arms against one of his Lord Godfrey's offspring. Best he try to be diplomatic. "Aye, but only for safekeeping. I will gather all the fractured pieces, and with luck, return them to your lord father." Morgott's exhausted face flashed in his mind. The siblings held the same regal bearing.
Nepheli spoke hesitantly, "I would aid you then. My mind is now too addled to be depended on to fight the grafted one alone."
For the first time in a long while, Owain smiled broadly.
Their 'camp' was a small armory beside what Owain remembered to be the central courtyard of the fortress. He and the warrior braced the door with several decaying pole-arms. They would both be able to rest, as anyone that brute forced the door would create a cacophony loud enough to rouse the dead.
He slept fitfully, slender hands spotted with freckles reached out for him. Tearful cobalt eyes warned him of coming danger, but he knew not why. The bright light of rising dawn had him wearily blinking away sleep. His gaze met Lady Nepheli's, who seemed just as tired as he. "More memories have returned to me since last we spoke. Let us be free of this dank room, battle and sun should cleanse me of my disquiet." He nodded his aggreance and they went forth.
The scratchy crooning was what alerted them to a presence in the courtyard beyond. A man seemed to be waxing poetic to a dragon. Owain looked curiously past the archway and almost regretted it. Here stood Godrick the Grafted, most heinous of lords. The stench of decay and putrification almost made him empty his stomach. Lady Nepheli retched but urged him ever forward. The 'lord' had not yet noticed them. Owain was only happy they need not do battle in the throne room proper as he'd been expecting. Far better out in the open.
With a steadying breath he slammed his spear haft onto the cobbled stone of the decaying staircase beneath him, its resounding crack rousing the mad thing at the center of the courtyard. "Wretched creature, ready yourself to die! She is Lady Nepheli Loux, I am Owain, of the sentinels. We are here to put you down." He shook out his aching shoulders and slammed down his visor, Lady Nepheli unhooked her axes and widened her stance.
Godrick's beady eyes took him in before a wheezing laugh rattled the man's many limbed frame. "A lowly barbarian and a fraud at mine door? The highlord is dead, and I'll not fear a ghost. Not even his." he coughed rasping into the open air, "Stealing his armor dost not makest thee him, addled mutt. Thou shouldst yet serve me, pretender. Yet thou wouldst dare insult me in mine own castle?" The squat spider rose to his full height, shedding the sprawling cloak that had hid his many horrifying appendages. Countless arms waved countless rusty weapons, grotesque legs shifted to hold up…was that the torso of a troll ? All that remained of the original Godrick was his sunken face on an aged head. "Filthy tarnished, playing at lordship?" He roared, "I command thee, kneel!" a massive ax slammed into the cobbled yard, spreading out wide cracks.
Owain raised his spear, calling forth its holy light. As one, he and Lady Nepheli charged forth unto the wretch. Fighting the mongrel was a novel experience. While Godrick had little skill in combat, he had great weight, speed, and many, many weapons at his disposal. Owain would catch three on his shield only to be slashed by a fourth and fifth. His mighty spear became ensnared by hatchets, caught by bucklers. His slashes would lose their potency after breaking through swords.
Nepheli did not seem to be having much better luck, it was all she could do to turn aside the spider's onslaught with her twin axes. This was infuriating! The dreg must have had more of Godwyn's blood running in his veins than Owain had thought, for him to be so tireless. Or more likely it was the rune.
Their contest spanned ever longer and the beast grew ever more desperate, spinning wildly, leaping atop Owain's shield, even throwing yet more weapons that he seemed to be pulling from thin air. At last Nepheli scored a meaty blow, slicing half through the 'arm' of the panicking lord. She and Owain were blasted back with some wind magic, pinned against the far wall.
Disgust flooded his chest as he realized what the screaming beast planned to do, but he could not regain his feet in time. Godrick had grafted the head of a dragon to his severed arm! "Forefathers one and all! Bear witness!" How dare he invoke his shining forbears when performing such a wretched sin. Godwyn would have wept, could he see what his blood had curdled into.
Nepheli locked eyes with him as they both caught their breath, he nodded. They needed to end this now . He took the vanguard, shielding her from the crazed spider's whirling flames. It took them boiling moments of cat and mouse, but eventually they had worn him down enough to properly counter attack. As Godrick readied himself for another grand spell, Owain shifted his shield. In but a single breath, Nepheli launched herself off his raised bulwark to land, axes biting deep in Godrick neck. As soon as the warrior was free of him, Owain hurtled his great spear into the center of the writhing mass, smiling in grim satisfaction as it blasted a hole clean through the ghastly man to slam into the far wall of the court yard. Godrick, stain of the golden lineage, fell like a rotted tree. He spasmed and gasped as Owain and Nepheli convened at his head. "I am lord of all that is golden!" He rasped out. "And soon we shall-" Owain slammed the rim of his great shield into the horror's yellowed teeth, splattering his head upon the scorched earth. Enough of his blasphemous prattling, he was lord of nothing.
He and the warrior clasped forearms while catching their breath. They were victorious! Owain raised his visor to spit on the dissolving corpse. Lady Nepheli laughed and did the same. "Lo, Owain, his great rune." She whispered in awe.
A golden rune of solid light rose from the fading corpse to hover before them, Owain watched Lady Nepheli. "Will you take the rune?" He questioned softly.
She blinked, startled. "No-no I…Too much do I remember that strikes discordant with what my foster father has dictated to me." Dark eyes found his. "I was to secure this rune for him, but would see you have it instead. Without you I would have failed."
Odd that the man would send another to gather something as prized as a great rune, especially if someone as forthright as Lady Nephelli seemed to be considered him just. Owain frowned. "I will take it then, though I would rebuke that you would have failed without me, you are a talented warrior, my Lady." She smiled and shook her head.
The sentinel reached forward slowly. Owain was to touch divinity yet he could scarcely feel his hands such were his nerves. The leather of his gauntlets brushed against it and the thing slammed forward into his chest, knocking him on his back. Owain lay there for, expecting to feel something else but met with no other reaction. The warrior helped him to his feet after a moment.
"How does it feel?" She asked him while brushing dirt from one of his pauldrons.
"I feel no different, how odd, perhaps because it but a small piece of the ring?"
She hummed in thought. "We should make for the hold then, surely the two fingers there will give guidance." There was a set of fingers at the hold? Owain laughed joyously, how strange that Lady Melina had not told him!
Owain nodded. "I agree, my lady." They both looked down at the grace that had sprung up where Godrick breathed his last. He gestured a hand forward. "Please, after you." Lady Nepheli smiled as she dissolved into golden dust. Truly this 'fast travel' was incredible, when Lady Melina had explained it to him he could hardly wrap his head around it. Owain made to touch the grace as well but was stopped by the small hand of Melina herself. He oft wondered where she went off to, choosing only to appear before him so seldomly. "My lady?" He asked, curious.
"I must admit, Owain, I have been testing you." She hid her hand beneath her cloak.
"Testing, my lady?"
"Yes, to see if you were of the same quality that I now remember. I thought that such memories as warm as these could not be true."
Much of his past was still lost to him but he'd recovered small snippets of his time spent with the princess. Meetings with her mother, attending to Lord Maleketh as the half-wolven read the children bed time stories, even once when he had apprehended an assassin not twenty paces from her crib. He'd given Reginald a thorough dressing down after that. He would oft hold her in the crook of his arm as he went about his duties.
"Have I passed your test, my lady?" He smiled down at her.
She returned his smile, though much more weakly. "Yes, Owain. I'll not doubt you as we continue our journey." She touched the grace before them. "Would you like me to take you now to the round table hold?"
He nodded with another smile, she really was a kind girl.