Dark Souls: Tale Of Lordran: Undead Parish

Hello once again, and you know what. Recently, as I write this, I often find myself going back to my first person roots. Like I always accidentally by habit just write using the first person and then notice later and laugh it off. It’s just…. I don’t know, something that I see myself doing a lot subconsciously. But either way, hopefully that doesn’t happen too often.  I’m beginning to notice that as I write these entries into Dark Souls I’m just really into it and I don’t have much to say when I’m posting like an actual series. So these may be cut a bit short. Like right now. So here you go “Undead Parish”.

Upon his rest, he turned to his left and ascended a flight of stairs that led him into the Undead Parish. This is where the Undead Church lay. It’s structure was similar of that of the Burg, however, there was semblance of some sort. The Chosen Undead couldn’t figure what it was. But no matter. As he pressed towards the church, he noticed a few obstacles. Not just a few Undead Soldiers, but even a large Armored Tusk stood in his way; a boar gleaming in iron armor with its tusks as sharp as swords. The Chosen Undead slew the fist Undead Soldier with ease as his sword cut clean through.  But as he was engaging the second, the Armored Tusk began charging through. The Chosen Undead took evasive action and rolled out of the way, leaving the Armored Tusk to ram and kill the Undead Soldier.

The Chosen Undead looked on, two archers began firing from platforms above, and the gate to the church was open. If he ran now, he could make a break for the church. However that was ill advised as he would have a horde of enemies behind him.  The Chosen Undead  gripped his sword, and thought of a plan. In the distance, he could see a burning pile of wood, he thought he could lure the Armored Tusk towards it. He would have to worry about the archers another time, but surely if they were to follow him, he would be able to dispatch them. If the Armored Tusk was out of the way, the Chosen Undead would have no qualms about rushing to the church. He thought fast, and moved faster.

The Armored Tusk turned and rushed at the Chosen Undead; who rolled out of the way and moved towards the burning pile. He held his shield for the incoming arrows and once the Armored Tusk had locked onto him again, he dashed out of the way and led the beast into the fire. It’s armor caught on fire; somehow, and the Boar began grumbling in pain. It swung it’s head back and forth, a threat for anything in the way of its massive tusks, but this gave the Chosen Undead enough time to dash forwards through the gate and towards the church. As he finally ascended the long flight of stairs leading to the church, he was instantly met with two Balder Knights.

One of which held a Rapier, and the other, a Balder Side Sword. and a Balder Shield.  Both had the Balder Set, which resembled that of the Undead Soldiers, however, their tattered red capes and dark appearance gave off the feeling of prowess. These knights were long but hollowed, however they stay where they are stationed, to fend off whomever it is that dares take their land. However, it is not their land, it is put a mirage, a land that they have set pilgrimage. A land similar to theirs, brimming with Hollows, and Undead. A land, no better. But they had hope. They were led. But they were slain. A sorrowful fate, now found at the Church. The Chosen Undead readied himself, and as the Rapier Balder Knight came and stabbed at him, the Chosen Undead lifted his shield and pushed the Rapier away. Following, the Chosen Undead stabbed through the  Balder Armor with his Black Knight Sword and as the second Balder Knight came within range, stroke down hard. The attack was met with a block, and as the Balder Knight retaliated, the Chosen Undead blocked with his shield.

The two were at a standstill, but the Chosen Undead took the initiative and bashed his shield against the Balder Knights. It knocked him back and gave just enough time for the Chosen Undead to cut through his armor.  The Chosen Undead knelt down at the armor before him, and decided to sport it against his previous set. It was a sound upgrade.

*Balder Set*

Set worn by the knights of the ancient kingdom of Balder. It is made from thick iron plates.

Balder was the homeland of the Knight King Rendal, but it came to ruin after a great many Undead were spawned.

As the Chosen Undead entered the church; which was filled with empty benches  and held atop with stone pillars, he noticed another threat. It was a Berenike Knight. A large knight with pitch black armor, holding a Tower Shield, alongside a Mace that matched its large size. The Chosen Undead followed it’s movements. It was bulky, large but slow. If the Chosen Undead could keep up, he could cut through that thick armor.  As the Berenike Knight slammed it’s mace into the Church floor in front of the Chosen Undead; the Chosen Undead dodged to the right. He could feel the vibrations from the slam persist on his feet, and as he got up, sliced the armor. As he imagined, the attack bounced right off the armor, however, a battle of stamina was something that such a bulky knight could not withstand. The Chosen Undead dodged to the left as the next slam came into place, and followed up with another downwards slice.  The Berenike Knight then used it’s shield and slammed into the Chosen Undead. It’s Tower Shield was two hefty for the Chosen Undead to face head on, so he took the hit, but, to his dismay the Berenike Knight chained the slam with a Mace slam and the Chosen Undead took a beating.

The Chosen Undead got up, extremely weakened from the slam. If not for his armor, no, the Chosen Undead was amazed at how his bones did not get crushed, but he was sure the next hit would. The Chosen Undead waited, and as the Berenike Knight slammed it’s Mace once again, the Chosen Undead raised his shield and upon impact, jammed his sword between the two, forcefully pushing the Mace away.  As the Chosen Undead successfully knocked back the Berenike Knight, he chained with a stab towards his armor. It bounced back, but was sure he did some damage. The Berenike Knight was tough indeed. Like the Balder Knights, the Berenike Knights were once powerful, in fact the most powerful, but as they became Undead, they had no choice but to seek pilgrimage. And with all stories of Undead, surely one must already know the answer. One loses their mind, and one becomes Hollow, as did the Berenike Knights; once so great.

The Chosen Undead  thought of another idea, one inspired from his previous bouts. As the Berenike Knight slammed into the Chosen Undead with his Tower Shield, the Chosen Undead faced it head on with his own shield, creating a sort of tug-of-war. But the Chosen Undead was beaten, and pushed back, as he slid on the church floor, the Chosen Undead grabbed a Black Firebomb and as the Berenike Knight exposed himself to perform another slam, the Bomb was thrown into the helmet of the Knight. The shine of the helmet masked what emotions the Berenike Knight felt, but as it staggered back, the Chosen Undead took advantage and winded for a large stab

As the Chosen Undead’s Black Knight Sword jabbed  into  the Knight’s helmet, the Berenike Knight fell. The Chosen Undead drank some Estus, he was nearly out, but he could refill it at a Bonfire, he needed to find one quick, or it might prove troublesome in a time much later.  The Mace was far too heavy for him to wield, such was the armor, but he grabbed the Knight’s Gauntlets. They would prove helpful.

*Steel Gauntlets*

Gauntlets of the Knights of Berenike, known for their heavy armaments and armor.

Countless Knights of Berenike, once extolled as the mightiest of mighty, became Undead and ventured to Lordran. But their journey was for naught, as they went Hollow, and became a threat to all Undead.

Before pressing on, the Chosen Undead noticed an altar at the end of the Church. A statue lay in the wall, with two candles lighting a small box of prayer. The Chosen Undead noticed a body on the pedestal. The Chosen Undead walked up to the body, and noticed something on the person. Being the Chosen Undead, he decided to inspect what it was. It was a Fire Keeper Soul. Lest it be devoured by those who would ever use it for ill-intent. But; who’s to say, that not all Undead are like that?

*Fire Keeper Soul*

Soul of a long-lost Fire Keeper.

Each Fire Keeper is a corporeal manifestation of her bonfire, and a draw for the humanity which is offered to her. Her soul is gnawed by infinite humanity, and can boost the power of precious Estus Flasks.

The Chosen Undead didn’t know of any Fire Keepers yet, one day he will; perhaps in another time, or in another world. But he kept the Soul close to him nonetheless. It was precious, after all. People and Undead alike, don’t like when things of precious value, are lost, or perhaps stolen. In another sense, people and Undead alike, do not like it when things of precious and handled with little precision.

After acquiring the Soul, the Chosen Undead remembered a hint. Something someone once told to him. Of an elevator.  The Chosen Undead turned to his left and walked towards what had seemed to be two elevators. They were beside a step of stairs, which the Chosen Undead assumed to have led to the first Bell of Awakening. The Chosen Undead inspected the elevators and noted that both were here, at the church, meaning there was none below to bring anyone up. The Chosen Undead entered the open compartment and rode the elevator down. As the view was no longer blocked by the Church walls, the Chosen Undead noticed that he was descending towards Firelink Shrine. Upon exiting the elevator, the Chosen Undead descended yet another flight of stairs until he could finally see the Bonfire of Firelink Shrine.  But before going to rest, he noticed a man, idle by the sides of the ruins. He had bright yellow hair and wore chain-mail armor. He holstered a Knight Shield and a Morning Star. He was Petrus of Thorolund.  The Chosen Undead approached him.

“Hello there. I believe we are not acquainted? I am Petrus of Thorolund. Have you business with us? If not, I’d prefer to keep a distance, if possible.” The Undead noted the use of the word, us, and questioned Petrus.

“My companions are M’lady and her young knights. She is young, but burdened by an Undead mission. We are her defenses, to keep her from harm.” The Chosen Undead questioned this Undead mission. Perhaps, would it be the same one he was on? The prophecy stretches thin, to all lands.

“An Undead mission? Regrettably, I cannot share that with you, perhaps if you show your faith.” The Chosen Undead wasn’t highly faithful, but he abided and paid him in souls.

“Very well.  I can surely tell you, of all people. Undead clerics are given a mission to seek Kindling. Kindling is the art of feeding bonfires with humanity. Through Kindling, we shall one day be granted magnificent powers.” The Chosen Undead understood that it was not his mission but one from the Church. He had little affairs with the clerics of this world, but he found it interesting that they would send their own to such unruly hallows. Especially if one was such that is young, needing that of three guards. The Undead noted that Petrus however was alone, meaning his lady and her two knights were not yet arrived in this land of Lordran. Petrus broke his chain of thought.

“I realize that I have requested that we retain our distance. But I also want you to know that it is not meant in ill-will. Here, take this. As a token of peace.” Petrus handed the Chosen Undead a Copper Coin.

*Copper Coin*

Coin made of copper. Its face shows Old man McLoyf, god of medicine and drink.

Even coins of great value in the world of men have little value in Lordran, where the accepted currency is souls.

Those who dream of returning to the outside world are fond of carrying these around.

The Chosen Undead said his farewells; for now, and left to rest on the Bonfire. For he, too had a mission of his own, and needed all the strength he could get.

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Dark Souls: Tale Of Lordran: Hellkite Drake

Hello once again. This time, a little deviation from the main game, but nonetheless kind of believable, considering you do have to fight this enemy at one point, maybe not in the same way, definitely not in the same way, but nonetheless, a battle. As I’m doing this, I’m sort of realizing that I’m doing this in an unfamiliar style. You know, in the third person rather than a first person retelling. I usually write in the first person, and I feel that the first person narrator is a pretty cool style. But the third person narrator-style is more the norm, I think. But anyway, yeah, I just suddenly realized, “Hey, I’m doing this in third person”, which yeah, is quite odd considering I only noticed this now, but hey, I guess I was just…. I don’t know. I still find it strange that I’m writing this in a style that I’m not that versed in. But I guess it’s good practice. Expanding my repertoire is good. Anyway here you go, “Hellkite Drake”.

As the Chosen Undead was finished resting, he ventured off.  There was a bridge in front of him. The church must be past that bridge, he thought. As the Chosen Undead began walking, he noticed a small legion of Undead Soldiers, and readied himself for combat. But as the Chosen Undead came within battle distance, he heard the  flaps of wings from above him, and a large shadow loomed over.

Before he knew it, he was engulfed in flames and a strewn on the bridge. The blast didn’t kill him, however, and he got up. He noticed a large winged beast, a creature with sharp scales and sharp horns. It’s entire body was melded into a crimson red, and it’s wings were as large as it’s body. It’s spiked tail looked like a dangerous weapon, either for the beast, or for the Chosen Undead. It was the Hellkite Drake.  He remembered it before, the one that had met him upon his setting foot on the Burg. It perched itself upon the  top of the entrance way at the end of the bridge. The  fire from before cleared the bridge of all the Undead, but getting past the Drake was going to be a task in of itself.

Suddenly, the Chosen Undead remembered something.  He grabbed the White Sign Soapstone and then gripped it as if he was crushing it. The white ornate stone began pulsating and before he knew it, a bright orange glow began pulsating from the ground. It shone brightly for a few more seconds, and before he knew it, Solaire had appeared before him. Without further words, he readied his large round shield and raised his sword. Like his armor, the shield had a painted picture of a sun on it, truly a devout warrior of the sun.

The Chosen Undead drank an Estus to refill his strength and then pressed on with his Black Knight Shield as well. It’s resistant to fire was quite strong, and it would serve him well with this foe. As the two paced forward, the Hellkite Drake opened its mouth, and fire began spewing. It covered the bridge once more, scorching what was already scorched and blanketed the two Undead. They both withstood the attack, and with this notion, the Hellkite Drake roared at the two and then flew down to face the two in battle.

Solaire took point and as he moved into position, the Hellkite Drake stomped in front of him. It’s feet were compromised of four giant nails that acted as sharp fangs, but that wasn’t the only problem Solaire had in front of him. The sheer power of the stomp itself would be enough to knock him out as the rumble from its initial stomp lingered with the Chosen Undead.  Solaire then valiantly cut out a morsel from the Hellkite Drake’s leg with his Sunlight Straight Sword. The Chosen Undead took no time to admire and simply came in and did a number on the wounded leg with his Black Knight Sword. The Drake retracted, and then stepped back, albeit with trouble as his legs were now injured. The Drake then turned, in a swift manner, and swiped it’s spiked tail to the two Undead. They both blocked in time, and as the Drake stepped back to face the two Undead, Solaire took another gander at the open wound of the Drake’s leg. The Chosen Undead then doubled back towards the tail, and as he gained footing, brought his sword down into the tail of the Drake. Blood gushed out from the open wound, and the Drake swiped its tail in a blind fit. The Chosen Undead managed to block the incoming swipes, and Solaire took advantage of this. Solaire moved from the foot, and stood in front of the Drake’s gaping mouth. With a quick motion, Solaire took out a small white bundle of cloth, it was his Sunlight Talisman. A gold band tied the cloth together, and a strip of red flew from this tie. He raised it high, towards the Hellkite Drake, and, without missing a blink the Chosen Undead witnessed sparks of lightning erupt from the Talisman. Then, Solaire cocked his arm back, and in his hand was a brilliant spear of lightning. Sparks exuded from it and it was shining ever so brightly in Solaire’s hand. It was the miracle, Lightning Spear.

With his hand overhead, Solaire threw the Lightning Spear straight at the Hellkite Drake’s face, causing it to step back in pain. The Chosen Undead took this as his queue and jumped onto the Hellkite Drake’s back. As he stood on the Hellkite Drake, he plunged his sword deep into its flesh.  Blood splattered and gushed out uncontrollably, and the Hellkite Drake frantically shook it’s body. Solaire then ran up, and with his Straight Sword, pierced through the Hellkite Drake’s neck. It roared a silent roar, but after a short period of struggle, it fell. It was almost, saddening, as the Hellkite Drake gave off its last few cries. The Drakes are not dragons, but rather are descendants of dragons, long lost descendants, so long and so lost that, they are nothing but fakes.  The immortal scaled dragons of yonder, will surely laugh at what creatures they have left on the land of Lordran. But perhaps, not all dragons are like that, and only time will tell whether the Chosen Undead will come to realize that. Or perhaps, he may never come head to head with reality, for reality is filled with despair, and with despair comes hollowing. And no one, wants to be hollowed. The Chosen Undead will have to press on, find worth, find meaning, for he cannot hollow, he shall not hollow.

Before the Chosen Undead could thank Solaire, he had vanished, without a second word. Left on the scorched bridge floor, now filled with Drake blood, was a single gold medallion. It shone in the dim sunlight, and upon further inspection, there was a picture of a sun on it. The same sun on Solaire’s equipment. It was a Sunlight Medal. The Chosen Undead pocketed it, perhaps, it will come in use, in a time not of his, but in a world elsewhere.

*Sunlight Medal*

This faintly warm medal engraved with the symbol of the Sun, is the ultimate honor, awarded to those who summon the Warrior of Sunlight and complete a goal.

The symbol represents Lord Gwyn’s firstborn, who lost his deity status and was expunged from the annals. But the old God of War still watches closely over his warriors.

The Chosen Undead pressed on through the bridge and into the arched entrance. In front of him, was a statue. A statue of a woman, holding a child, with a sword in his hand. The Chosen Undead noted this, and then turned to his right. He saw, a statue, broken, scattered on the grass fields. This was the Altar of Sunlight.  But the Chosen Undead had neither the faith, nor the idea that this sanctuary, held the covenant of the Warrior of Sunlight.  Perhaps if he were to pray, he would gain epiphany, but alas, he stood back, lit the Bonfire that he now noticed, and rested.

Dark Souls: Tale Of Lordran: Taurus Demon

Hello once again, this time our Chosen Undead faces off with the first boss (Other than the Asylum Demon, which is a tutorial boss, so….. I don’t know, I wouldn’t really count it)  the Taurus Demon. Upon my first encounter with it, I was definitely quite scared I mean, you’re just merrily making your way across the bridge, wondering where the boss is, and all of a sudden he jumps from the watch tower and chases you down with it’s giant axe. At that level, it definitely hurts. But, thanks to our Chosen Undead, it has a secret trick, which is also a viable method in game to kill the Taurus Demon. Anyway, here it is, “Taurus Demon’

The Taurus Demon stood large and menacing as it charged down towards the Chosen Undead.  It swung its massive Greataxe down on the bridge, but the Chosen Undead managed to dodge at the last second, avoiding a critical hit. The Taurus Demon roared, and then pounded the bridge in front of him once again. The Chosen Undead raised his shield, and managed to block the Greataxe, albeit only for a second, as the weight of it all was too strong. The Chosen Undead was forced to back off.

The Chosen Undead waited for an opening, but the Taurus Demon continued his assault. He stepped back and then with his Greataxe, winded a great sweep in front of him. The Chosen Undead had nowhere to run, and simply waited. As the Greataxe swept down, the Chosen Undead rolled back and avoided the attack.  The Taurus Demon then jumped and slammed the Chosen Undead into the bridge.  The Chosen Undead was lucky enough to survive with a sliver of health left in him. But with his strength so low, he was sure that even a breeze of wind would knock him down. The Chosen Undead had to be clever.  As The Taurus Demon winded for another sweep, the Chosen Undead hurriedly picked up a Black Firebomb and launched it into the Taurus Demon’s face, causing a small explosion and effectively staggering the Demon. The Chosen Undead took this chance and restored his strength with the Estus Flask. As his strength returned, the Chosen Undead turned to the offensive.

As the Taurus Demon slammed down in confusion and rage, the Chosen Undead slid past the Axe and came behind the Taurus Demon. As the effects of the Black Firebomb dissipated, the Chosen Undead jumped forward and perched himself onto the Taurus Demon’s back. The Chosen Undead then drew his Black Knight Sword and drove it into the Taurus Demon’s skull. The Demon roared and flailed angrily to shake off the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead couldn’t hold his grip on his Black Knight Sword and was flung violently against the bridge. The Sword remained lodged in the back of the Taurus Demon skull, which only angered it more. The Taurus Demon entered into an enraged state as blood gushed out from the back of his head.  It charged at the Chosen Undead, with its Greataxe to its side, winding for a large strike. The Chosen Undead waited, anticipated, and then as the Greataxe came within sight, the Chosen Undead rolled to the side, leaving the Taurus Demon to charge haphazardly.  The Taurus Demon stopped and then flailed it’s Greataxe. It turned and then did a large sweep towards the Chosen Undead. The Undead dodged with barely a hair to spare, and then grabbed another Black Firebomb.

He threw the Black Firebomb with precision, causing an explosion on the Taurus Demon’s face. The Taurus Demon moved its head back in spite, but this only moved the Sword lodged in its skull and caused the Taurus Demon to lose more blood. The Taurus Demon fell to its knee, but it wasn’t down. It looked at the Chosen Undead, and roared once more. It then charged at the Undead with the remaining strength it had and swung down hard. The Chosen Undead challenged the Taurus Demon’s strength and raised his shield against the Greataxe.

The Greataxe slammed into the Black  Knight Shield and for a brief moment, the two beings struggled to keep up against each other’s strength. The Chosen Undead used every ounce of his being to keep his shield upheld, and, after a while, the Taurus Demon stopped. The Chosen Undead lowered his shield, and the Taurus Demon fell.  The Chosen Undead grabbed the Black Knight Sword from the Demon’s skull and shock off the blood from it. The Chosen Undead took another sip of Estus and then examined the Demon’s Greataxe. It was too large for him to carry, and he would need a good smith to forge it into something he would be able to wield.  Such a smith was someone the Chosen Undead did not know as of yet, but he did break down the Greataxe, so that he would one day be able to use it if he were so inclined. The Chosen Undead also extracted a humanity from the Taurus Demon, along with a Homeward Bone.

 

 

 

*Demon’s Greataxe*

Carved from the bones of fellow demons. Wielded by the lesser Taurus demons.

This axe is imbued with no special power, but can merrily beat foes to a pulp, providing you have the strength to wield it.

*Homeward Bone*

Bone fragment reduced to white ash.

Bonfires are fueled by the bones of the Undead. In rare cases, the strong urge of their previous owner’s to seek bonfires enchants their bones with a homeward instinct.

The Chosen Undead pressed on towards the opposite watch tower, and entered. Upon entering, he noticed the room was littered with barrels wrapped in rope.  A strange scene, but no matter. The Chosen Undead pressed on towards the arched entrance until finally descending two flights of stairs. At the exit of the watch tower, the Chosen Undead was faced with another door, separated by another on looking bridge to his left. The door was locked. The Chosen Undead turned to his right, and was met with the basking sunrays that exuded from the clouds. It was a scene straight from a fairytale, truly the sights of an age long past. A scene that can only be replicated with the inglorious sun. Oh, how grossly incandescent that sun is. So very, very incandescent.

As the Chosen Undead walked down the stairs, and into the lookout ledge, he found himself staring at a being. It was a man, in iron armor. It had green high lights on the shoulders ,and upon closer inspection, he saw a picture of a sun painted on the chest. His helmet was a gleaming iron, with a red feather sticking off the top. He had a sword to his side, and a shield on his back.  The Chosen Undead approached him. He was a brazen man. A man of strength, a true warrior.

“Ah, hello! You don’t look Hollow, far from it! I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight. Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun! Do you find that strange?” The Chosen Undead shook his head.

“Well, you should! No need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time!” Solaire then began laughing.

“Oh, ah hah! So, I didn’t scare you? I have a proposition, if you have a moment.” The Chosen Undead figured he had nothing to lose, especially after such a taxing battle with the Taurus Demon. In fact, one must wonder, how did Solaire arrive here? Perhaps, by chance, in another time, he had once defeated the Taurus Demon as well?

“The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with Hollows, could that really be mere chance? So, what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?” The Chosen Undead nodded.

“This pleases me greatly! Well then, take this.” Solaire handed the Chosen Undead a White Sign Soapstone.

*White Sign Soapstone*

In Lordran, the flow of time is distorted, and the White Sign Soapstone allows Undead to assist one another.

“We are amidst strange beings, in a strange land. The flow of time itself is convoluted, with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. There’s no telling how much longer your world and mine will remain in contact. But, use this, and engage in jolly co-operation! Of course, we are not the only one engaged in this. But I am a warrior of the sun! Spot my summon signature easily by its brilliant aura. If you miss it, you must be blind!” Solaire began laughing. The Chosen Undead has gained an ally on his endeavor. But, he didn’t understand what Solaire had meant by time being  convoluted. Perhaps, in the future, he will experience what he meant. Or perhaps it was a gander at how Solaire how arrived here before him, besting the Taurus Demon in a world void of the Chosen Undead. But if he himself is Undead, could he be chasing a faith similar to his? Among his own journey, could Solaire be…. a Chosen Undead as well? The Chosen Undead shook his head of the notion and noticed that there was a Bonfire. He lit it and began resting before venturing off again.

Dark Souls: Tale Of Lordran: Firelink and Undead Burg

Hello once again, this time with a little late of a post, but nonetheless, the next part in the Dark Souls series. Despite everything, this might actually end up being quite a large series, I predict, and I am going to have to work extremely hard to keep up the pace. As I am trying to cover as much as I can, including any side quests there may be, the game all of a sudden just seems really large. The lore just branches out and more research is to be done, but anyway, right now, it’s starting off at a good pace, in due time, our Chosen Undead will ring the first bell in no time. Hopefully, encountering no trouble as he does….But who knows, maybe even the most valiant of knights, will sometimes be the worse you will have ever seen. But that’s for a side story/quest for another day. In fact, should the side quests be a side story and not related to this male Tale Of Lordran series? Nah, maybe I’ll just squeeze it in. Anyway here it is, “Firelink and Undead Burg”,

Upon linking the Bonfire in front of him, the Chosen Undead looked around to his surroundings. A large tree stood behind him, and all around it were ruins. Ruins and a tattered stair case. In the distance was a well, with a dead body sprung over it.  Across from that was a hill, with a walkway that sported into the insides of a waterway.  The Undead was taken in by the sights. But as he was finally able to ascertain himself with what little reality he had left, he saw a person sitting by. He wore a gray chainmail and had beige skin. He was sitting on top of a stone step, minding his business. As the Undead approached him, the man looked up. The man was  a Crestfallen Warrior. An Undead warrior of a time long past. Perhaps sitting here, awaiting the end of time, or perhaps, unable to find the motivation to do much else, he awaits.  Or perhaps, he has accepted his fate, a hollowed fate, and is awaiting the inevitable. No matter, he entertains the Chosen Undead.

“Well, what do we have here? You must be a new arrival. Let me guess. Fate of the Undead, right? Well, you’re not the first. But there’s no salvation here. You’d have done better to rot in the Undead Asylum. But, too late now. Well, since you’re here, let me help you out. There are actually two Bells of Awakening. One’s up above, in the Undead Church. The other is far, far below, in the ruins at the base of Blighttown. Ring them both, and something happens, brilliant, right? Not much to go on, but I have a feeling that won’t stop you.”  The Chosen Undead shook his head.

“So, off you go. It is why you came, isn’t it? To this accursed land of the Undead?” Crestfallen Warrior began laughing, albeit in a mild manner. In a tone that suggested that perhaps, in some other time period, he had chosen the path of the Undead. The Chosen Undead asked Crestfallen Warrior how to get to either destination.

“Hm? What, you want to hear more? Oh, that’s all we need. Another inquisitive soul. Well, listen carefully, then. One of the bells is up above in the Undead Church, but the lift is broken. You’ll have to climb the stairs up the ruins, and access the Undead Burg through the waterway.” The Chosen Undead turned to the waterway he had noticed before and acknowledged its worth.

“The other bell is back down below the Undead Burg, within the plague-infested Blighttown. But I’d die again before I step foot in that cesspool!” Crestfallen Warrior began laughing again. The Chosen Undead decided to go up above, to the Undead Church, and ring the Bell of Awakening there. He turned and ventured forwards towards the waterway. On his way, he grabbed the item that was dangling on the corpse on the well.  It was Humanity. A black sprite with a faded white glow. The Undead held it in his hand, intrigued by what he had found, and upon being enveloped within its darkness, he had subconsciously consumed it. He found himself feeling less and less hollow as the effects of the Humanity were sinking in. If Humanity was given to humans by fragment of the Dark Soul, then what difference does it make for the souls we already carry? Consuming the Humanity seemed to make the Chosen Undead more human, for however much he could be, considering the Darksign. He still had two more Humanity sprites, and he decided to keep them for later. For they had a hidden restorative property.

*Humanity*

Rare tiny black sprite found on corpses. This black sprite is called humanity, but little is known about its true nature. If the soul is the source of all life, then what distinguishes the humanity we hold within ourselves?

The Undead pressed on, towards the steps that led to the waterway. Upon getting to the top of the first set of steps,  he was greeted by two Undead Soldiers. He readied his weapons and before he could make the first move, a third Soldier jumped out from the second set of steps. Luckily for the Undead, there was enough foot holding for them to have a battle, however, the cliff was a one way drop.  The Undead blocked the attack from above, then with his sword intercepted the blade of another Soldier. He pushed them both back, and then with one skillful cut, decimated a Soldier. It fell to its knees, and then the Undead used his shield as a tackle to catch the other Solder off guard. As the Soldier staggered backwards, the Undead pushed him off the cliff, and then turned to slash the other Soldier as he prepared to attack him. Suddenly, a firebomb exploded in front of the Chosen Undead, charring him for a second. The Undead looked up towards a Soldier who was on top of the steps. He rushed up and with a quick jab using the pommel of his sword, pushed the firebomb Soldier off the cliff. But his work wasn’t done. From behind, an Undead Soldier carrying an axe jumped on the Chosen Undead and gashed his armor. He took a big hit, but the Chosen Undead didn’t falter. He turned quickly and jabbed his sword through the Soldier’s neck. Then, from the stairs leading to the waterway itself, stood another Undead Soldier. The Chosen Undead carried on, parried it’s blade and then used his shield to throw him off the waterway. As he had confirmed that the area was clear, the Chosen Undead climbed the rest of the stairs and found the waterway entrance. On the steps leading to it however, was a corpse dangling off. The Undead found a Soul Of A Lost Undead from it, and decided to pocket it.

*Soul Of A Lost Undead*

Soul of a lost Undead who has long ago gone Hollow.

Souls are the source of all life, and whether Undead, or even Hollow, one continues to seek them.

Upon entering the waterway, the Undead was instantly greeted by a scurrying sound. He distinguished the waters movement from actual movement, a feat he was proud of. He then turned left, and saw a large rat, moving towards a fence. The Soldier quickly stabbed the rat and as it’s corpse fell to the ground, noticed a corpse beside it. He found another Soul Of A Lost Undead, and pocketed it. The Chosen Undead then turned and went to the other end of the waterway. Instinctively, he noticed a dent in the wall to his left. It was an arched pathway, made as a passage to the Burg. He climbed the stairs that left the waterway, and on top, arrived in the Undead Burg.  Two Undead Soldiers greeted him, but the Chosen Undead  took the initiative, and made a clean cut through the first one’s body. He then moved quickly and took a slash at the second. All around him were barrels and remains of a once great bustling city. He took note and pressed on towards the insides of a residence. There were wooden tables and even chairs, evidence of a life before his time. However, the only residents he could see were the Undead Soldiers, the Hollows that attacked him. The Chosen Undead left the house on a second floor and ascended towards Upper Burg. The walkway gave him view to a large bustling tower to his right. It was a beautiful view. Brick erected from the ground, unholy like. As the Chosen Undead made his way through, he was suddenly taken aback as a large winged beast flew towards the walkway and landed in front of him. It was a Hellkite Drake. A large crimson beast with wings as large as it’s body, and fangs and talons enough to rip bodies in half. It’s body was spiked with its scales and its breath decimated legions of Soldiers. But, as the Chosen Undead readied himself, the Wyvern flew off, towards the tower.

The Chosen Undead pressed on, unfazed by the erratic nature of the world.  Upon getting to the Upper Burg, the Undead was faced with more Undead Soldiers. One was on the roof of a building, shooting arrows down at him, while two more lay in rest, awaiting him. The Chosen Undead engaged the two Soldiers in front of him, slashing the first, but having to raise his shield to block an oncoming arrow. The second Soldier took advantage of this and took a gander at the Undead, nicking his arm, but not without retaliation. The Chosen Undead slashed the Soldier just as an arrow came without sight. His cut was off angle and the arrow missed him by a hair. The Chosen Undead then took footing again and followed up with a thrust, taking out the Soldier. The Undead then ran up the stairs and bashed the Ranged Soldier off the roof. Upon turning around, he noticed an open entrance to what had seemed to be a lobby of sorts.

In the middle of the room was a sword, stuck within ash and bones. A Bonfire. The Chosen Undead lit the bonfire, and decided to rest, to let his wounds recover. But, before he could get comfortable, a voice called out to him in the corner of the room. How, in Gwyn’s name did he not notice? But no matter.

“Well, now. You seem to have your wits about you, hmm? Then you are a welcome customer! I trade for souls. Everything’s for sale!” The Undead Merchant then began laughing gleefully. He was just that, an undead merchant. He looked Hollow, just like the soldiers that the Chosen Undead has fought. His eye sockets were hollow, his skin was missing, and the only thing resembling human left on him was his bones, which were charred red. But he was more calm. He did not attack the Undead. He wore a tattered gray shirt and pants and spread across the ground was his wares, pots and items that intrigued the Chosen Undead. Without warning, the Undead Merchant began again.

“It’s actually quite nice here, you know? The hollows don’t care for a skinny old twig like me. I’ve got Yulia.” Undead Merchant looked to his side and petted the air.

“And nobody pelts me with stones anymore. You’re Undead, you know how it is. I was treated worse back at home.” As the Chosen Undead browsed his wares, without word, the undead merchant began speaking, as if to satiate an inquiry unspoken.

“Eh? My wares? Of course they’re stolen; what did you think? And when you lose your head, I’ll sell it all again!” Undead Merchant finished with another gleeful laugh. The Chosen Undead pondered using his souls to buy a few items that would prove useful to his journey, but he pulled back, satisfied with what he had. In this place, souls are the currency. All beings lust for souls, and even some claim that it will help them fight back the Hollowing. But the truth is, all fates are intertwined in Lordran. All Undead will find themselves Hollow in due time, souls or not. As the Chosen Undead turned, Undead Merchant gave off a last remark.

“Hmph. What a waste of time. Go and fall off a cliff.” The Chosen Undead left the room after resting and continued his venture. He made for a walkway towards the inside of a tower like structure. However, it was worn, moss devoured it, and the ledge stones are long but tattered. Worn like the world itself. As he entered the building, two Undead Soldiers lie in waiting. One with an axe, and the other with a single long sword. The one with the axe swung down hard on the Chosen Undead, but as his shield blocked it, the one with the sword circled around and gave a gander at his arm. The Chosen Undead lowered his shield and backed off. He waited and read the movements of the Soldiers. As the one with the axe jumped at him ,he rolled towards the back of the one with the sword, who had missed his slash. Now, with his back to the Chosen Undead, he was vulnerable. The Chosen Undead took his sword and thrust it into the Soldier’s back, effectively killing him. He then used his shield to block the axe Soldier’s chop, and then finished him with another slash. The Chosen Undead scoffed at his wounds, and moved forward.

The Chosen Undead found himself in what seemed to be a street of sorts. Two houses faced each other back to back. One of which was accessed from a place down below, but the other, had a door leading to it. The Chosen Undead checked the door and opened it. He readied his shield and sword, but to his surprise, there was no Soldier lying in wait. Rather, he entered a solemn home. There was wooden furnish in a roundabout way that signified that, perhaps in another time, this place used to be civil. A place devoid of Hollow. But that time has long passed. The desolate shelf filled with wares and the emptiness of the fireplace gave the Chosen Undead a feeling of hopelessness. This world was unforgiving. The Chosen Undead noticed a chest at the back of the room. He didn’t think it would be open, despite breaking into the home, but checked anyway. The Chosen Undead gripped the opening to the chest and lifted it open in one motion. Inside, he found Black Firebombs.

*Black Firebombs*

Black bisque urn filled with black powder. Explodes, inflicting fire damage. Powerful ranged weapon, especially in situations called for fire damage.

He stored the Black Firebombs in a pouch near his armor, ready to be thrown when the situation calls for it. He left the desolated home and went down a flight of stairs to what seemed to be a courtyard. Two Undead Soldiers lie in wait for him. The first jumped at the sight of the Chosen Undead, but this was avoided with a roll to the side, followed up with a slash towards the second Soldier. Taking advantage of the situation, the Chosen Undead then followed up with another slash towards the first Soldier. As they fell, the Chosen Undead heard a familiar sound as footsteps closed in on him. It wasn’t just the footsteps, but it was the sound of metal boots clashing with the courtyard that resounded within the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead turned and rolled out to dodge a fatal backstab. The one who struck was a Black Knight. Taller than the Undead Soldiers, and much, much tougher. He wore charred black armor, burned to a crisp, like it had visited the ends of Izalith and back. His helmet had horns sticking out of it, which made his demeanor more menacing. In his left hand was a Black Knight Shield, and in his right, a Black Knight Sword. It wielded it’s sword with great strength,  enough to prove it’s once proud status as guards of Gwyn.

The Knight swiped at the Chosen Undead, but, he blocked in time. The Sword fought fiercely with his shield, and the Chosen Undead was forced to step back. His shield wouldn’t manage against such a fierce knight. Black Knight didn’t falter and continued his barrage, swiping down hard against the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead quickly dodged to the right, but Black Knight followed up his swings and connected an upward slash towards the Chosen Undead. He staggered, but only for a second. He could take two more hits, but that was it. The Black Knight’s swings were fierce indeed.

Black Knight swung down, but the Chosen Undead was slower, and only managed a weak block. He flinched, but with his other hand, swung down at the Black Knight. Only minor damage. He backed off. He needed to wait, to think. There’s only one answer. He focused, and once the Black Knight swung , he acted. He raised his shield, bashed the Knight’ sword to the side and then thrust into the Black Knight’s armor; he parried. The Black Knight’s armor gave in, surprisingly, and as the Chosen Undead turned his sword, he noticed that the armor was indeed, rusted, old, and was perhaps weakened by the flames of Izalith; not that he would know.  It churned with his sword, and as the Chosen Undead retracted his blade, the Black Knight fell. The Chosen Undead examined the sword and shield left by the Black Knight. He picked them both up, and decided to use the shield. It was large and ovular in size, and it’s black sheen was surely going to come in handy.  The Black Knight Sword felt heavy but he decided to use it, for it had better strength than his own. He left his Straight Sword holstered and bolstered his new Sword.

*Black Knight Shield*

Shield of the Black Knights that wander Lordran. A flowing canal is chiseled deeply into its face. Long ago, the black knights faced the chaos demons, and were charred black, but their shields became highly resistant to fire.

*Black Knight Sword*

Greatsword of the black knights who wander Lordran. Used to face chaos demons.

The large motion that puts the weight of the body into the attack reflects the great size of their adversaries long ago.

The Chosen Undead then ascended another pair of stairs until he reached the base of a watch tower. He ascended yet another flight of stairs; a commodity of the Chosen Undead, until he found the opening of the watch tower. The watch tower connected with another, forming  a sort of castle wall, that one could peer off of.  He took one step forward and down a smaller flight of stairs until he reached the base. The connecting platform acted as a bridge of sorts, but the fact stood that it had been tattered. A section of the pillars that made the sides of the bridge had been smashed, rubble stood lying on the bridge floor. Looking past, even the opposite watch tower was shriveled, beaten up.  As the Chosen Undead turned to look to the sky, he saw rays of sunlight escaping from the clouds. It was as if the lords themselves were descending, but that sight, was far, far away. Without even thinking, the Chosen Undead had begun moving towards the opposite watch tower. But even past the rubble, he couldn’t get his mind off of the deteriorating world.

Without a seconds notice, as he was a few  meters from the second watch tower, he noticed rumbling. He looked up, and saw a large creature, with a bull-like appearance. It jumped down and blocked the Chosen Undead’s path. This was the Taurus Demon.  It’s skull had natural horns to it that were far more menacing than any Black Knight’s and it’s body was bulking, standing on its two feet, with its Demon’s Greataxe in hand. Without warning, it began charging down the bridge, it’s goal; to destroy the Chosen Undead.

Dark Souls: Tale of Lordran: The Beginning

Alright hello once again. I’ve been gone for a few days now and that is up to imagination, what i may have been doing. But either way, I am here with a kind of game-related story. But this time, it’s more, I don’t want to say that it’s pure just my imagination, I mean some of it is don’t get me wrong, but many of the information giving, is indeed directly from the game, or even from other people’s speculations. In short, Dark Souls (The game from which this story series is based off of) is a game that tells its narrative, not from the spoken word like most games, but rather off of vague item descriptions and small dialogue sessions. In other words, it’s all up to players to figure out what the hell is going on. That’s why the Souls community is so vibrant and great, and I’m going to mix not only my experiences with Dark Souls, but also try and add the Lore elements where I see fit. This series is basically a play through of the game, with my own add-ons and removals, so even if you have played, it might still seem different in some parts, and maybe you’ll even like my different elements. I tried to make this story as accessible to anyone as possible, and I really think that’s what the Souls games are all about, being accessible to anyone. Yes, it may seem confusing at first, but that’s how everyone is going to feel. You make the story as you go, and although I’m giving you story yes, you can still interpret some of the finer details yourself. You’ll see what I mean. Either way, there’s going to be some obvious (hopefully) ques of when I break immersion for example, when I give you an item description (straight from the game) that is going to look a bit weird, and that’s partly because of the weird formatting conversions I have to deal with. Trust me, it looks a lot better on what I’m using then when I post it here but, nothing to bad mouth WordPress. Anyway, here you go, “The Beginning”

In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A Land of grey crags, arch-trees and everlasting dragons. Then, there was Fire, and with Fire, came Disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, Light and Dark.

From the Dark they came and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead; The Witch of Izalith and her daughters of Chaos; Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, with his faithful knights; And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten.

With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons. Gwyn’s mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own and the dragons were no more. Thus began the Age of Fire.

But soon, the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now, there are only embers and man sees not light, but only endless night. Amongst the living are seen carriers of the accursed Darksign.

Here in Lordran, there are those with which are afflicted with the Darksign. The Darksign bears no  resent, rather, it is a symbol of everlasting love. Those with the Darksign are cursed to live forever, until one day, they will no longer remain; their minds will go hollow. Those with the Darksign will be destined to lose their humanity and soul over and over until they themselves have nothing to hold onto. Until the very essence of their soul is dreaded in dark; the Darksign will eat at them.

Those afflicted with the Darksign will find themselves  in the Undead Asylum, rallied by Gwyn as he tries to subdue the dark. But little does he know, that the dark has already swept his country, and without hope, he has no way to restore the Age of Fire. Perhaps, just by chance, if he were to throw himself into the flames, will that restore his glory? Perhaps not. As if to keep a dying race from ever breaking out, the undead slowly became isolated. Some roam within the Undead Burg, a central bustling town, only this town is unwelcoming to those on the outside. Some roam in many other places as well, perhaps, even great cleric’s are also concealing a secret. But, despite who you are, if you are afflicted with the Darksign, your fate will be the same as everybody else. You will find yourself an empty husk, a Hollow, within due time. Such is the fate, of the children of the Furtive Pygmy.

And with one such fate, we find ourselves in the Undead Asylum. The perish of all that is which unneeded. But in a stroke of luck, or perhaps a stroke of misfortune, those who are in the Undead Asylum, will be lost in time. Forever doomed to wander their cells, for they are undead. Lost within the Darksign, beings not themselves.

“Thou who art Undead, art chosen… In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords… when thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know…” With this in mind, with the prophecy of the Undead foretold through his heritage, he had one mission.  He who is known as Oscar of Astora, of a land filled with brilliant knights has travelled far and wide to reach Lordran, in hopes of seeking the Asylum. For he himself has found that the Darksign has been branded within him. But Oscar has not lost all hope, he still has a mission to fulfill, it is his dying mission. Oscar travels to the Asylum, and travels among its rafters to finally see the prisons in which the Undead are held. Upon getting on top, he had killed a previous prison guard, the same guard that contains the Dungeon Cell key that will help the Chosen Undead out. Oscar breaks open a ceiling panel and drops the dead body in front of the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead peers up at the rattle, and notices the dead body in front of him.

As the Chosen Undead looks up, he sees Oscar for a split second, but Oscar retracts, his mission is not yet over. The Chosen Undead rummages the body.  He finds the Dungeon Cell Key, a set of Hollow Soldier Armor, a Longsword and a Hollow Soldier Shield.

*Dungeon Cell Key*

Key to the dungeon of the Undead Asylum to the North.

A mysterious knight, without saying a word, shoved a corpse down into the cell, and on its person was this key. Who was this knight? And what was his purpose? There may be no answers, but one must still forge ahead.

*Hollow Soldier Armor*
Apparel worn by Hollow soldiers. It may be old and battered, but it’s iron construction makes it quite sturdy.

*Hollow Soldier Helm*

It is wise to wear a sturdy form of head protection against arrows and other physical threats.

*Hollow soldier Waistcloth*

Waistcloth worn by Hollow soldiers. It is so tattered that it barely serves its purpose anymore.

*Hollow Soldier Shield*

Metal shield wielded by Hollow soldiers. Heavily rusted but sturdy, providing a strong defense.

*Longsword*

Widely-used standard straight sword, only matched in ubiquity by the shortsword.

The Chosen Undead puts on the armor, sporting a look similar to those he imagine await him on the opposite end of his cell. With one hand he grasped the Longsword and the other held the shield.  It was sufficient he thought. Not very exquisite, but it would do. He opened the door with the cell key and found himself in a narrow corridor. He walked out. Bodies of undead spilled on the ground beneath him. Bricks and tattered walls surrounded him. He truly was at the brink of the world. A place only fitting for those branded with the Darksign. As he made his way down the corridor, his sights were caught by bars protruding from the wall. The Chosen Undead turned to see a large creature pacing back and forth. It’s broken wings hung on its back like broken parts. And it’s horns signified demonic presence. The Chosen Undead sighed in delight that this creature and him were separated by bars. Even more so as he noticed that a strung body stuck out from a protrusion in the bars. A body was impaled fiercely by the broken bars. The Chosen Undead continued walking, until finally finding a ladder. If this was the underground, then the above ground will be his way out, he thought.  He climbed it instinctively. At the top, he was greeted by a torch sticking out on the wall, illuminating a small arched pathway. He walked through, until he found himself to what had seemed to be dirt. In front of him stood a large metal door, and the outlines of a building, the one he knew as the Asylum all around him. It was a towering fortress. Bricks and columns supported this prison.

The Chosen Undead saw a rusted sword protruding from the ground. It looked as if it had been stuck there a long time ago. Stuck within a mound of ash and bones. He placed his hand around it, and felt it’s warmth. Then, like a light flickering; the ashes reborn, a fire started. The Chosen Undead proceeded to call this a Bonfire. But he had no time to rest. He sought on, and went to the metal door.  With both his hands, he pushed it open.  A creak resounded as the two rusted metal doors slid open. In front of the Chosen Undead was another door. Perhaps, this was the way out? He thought.  But as he walked forward to reach that door, unaware of what was above him, he finally realized it. A large creature suddenly smashed into the ground in front of him, waiting above for any that would so dare escape their prison. This creature shared similar attributes to the one he had saw previous. With horns protruding from its head, and it’s large body enough to withstand anything. It held with its demonic hands a large hammer, enough to crush him he presumed.

Without further warning, the Asylum Demon pressed forward and smashed the ground in front of the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead had no choice, he had to fight. He let his shield hang on his back as he thought it had no value here. With the next swing from the Asylum Demon, the Undead rolled to his side, effectively dodging death. He then swung his sword into the body of the Demon, but to his dismay, the sword had been long rusted. It broke without warning, turning into a useless hilt. The Demon swung again, this time nicking the Undead and sending him flying into the Asylum walls. The Undead saw a torch and another arched pathway to the side. He picked himself up and ran as fast as he could. He entered the arched pathway and without turning, simply ran.

The Chosen Undead wasn’t aware how far he ran, but he knew for certain that he was now safe. He saw another Bonfire, and lit it. He took a short rest before leaving. He saw another narrow corridor before him, but this time, he had guests. At the end of the corridor was a Hollow Soldier. It shot arrows at the Undead, but with his shield out, he was able to deflect each one. The Undead then charged up the corridor with his shield up and when he was within range, cut into the Soldier with his broken sword. It wasn’t much, but he then took his shield and bashed the Soldier. The Soldier fell to the ground. The Undead pressed on.

Upon climbing a flight of stairs, he found himself on  a second level. Bars separated his view, but he was certain that the sight he saw was that of the first Bonfire. He continued travelling the second floor, until he reached another flight of stairs. But this one was more devious. Upon climbing, he looked up and noticed a large round metal ball. Then, without warning, it began sliding down.  Just in time, the Undead rolled to the side, off the stairs, but away from danger. He then looked to the top, where a sneaky Soldier lay. He rushed up and readied himself. The Soldier swung at the Chosen Undead, but with a swift motion of his arm, he parried the sword. Then, the Undead used his foot to trip the Soldier. With the broken sword in his hand, the Undead thrust it into the Soldier’s neck, effectively taking him out.

The Chosen Undead turned to see where the metal ball had crashed into, and noticed a large opening in the brick wall. The Undead approached it, and to his surprise, Oscar, the knight who had helped him out was on the brink of death in a pile of rubble behind the wall.  The Undead looked up to see a hole, presumably where Oscar had fallen through. The Undead approached the dying knight. Perhaps, such a fall might not have caused all the rubble he lay in, but an impact caused by a hammer. Just by chance, Oscar may have tried to fight the Demon. Just like the Chosen Undead.

“Oh, you. You’re no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness… I’m done for, I’m afraid…. I’ll die soon, then lose my sanity…. I wish to ask something of you. You and I, we’re both undead. Hear me out? Will you?” The Chosen Undead figured there was no risk in accepting, that, and the fact that this man had helped him out. What more to do when he’s dying? The Chosen Undead accepted.

“Regrettably, I have failed in my mission. But perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family.” Oscar recited the Undead Prophecy.

“Well, now you know. And I can die with hope in my heart. Oh, one more thing. Here, take this. An Estus Flask, an undead favorite. Oh and this.” The Chosen Undead took the Estus Flask and the sword and shield that Oscar had provided.

“Now I must bid farewell. I would hate to harm you after death. So go now….. And thank you.” The Undead left, regrettably.  Oscar was fated to tell the Chosen Undead of his duties, and with his mission now complete, he can rest in peace. Or perhaps, should the Chosen Undead choose to kill Oscar in his hollowed state, he can save him the trouble. But such a duty is not fit for the Chosen Undead. Perhaps not now. All undead are fated to lose their mind, without purpose, without a way to cling to their humanity, and become Hollow. That is something the Chosen Undead has come to understand. The Chosen Undead took his new armaments and equipped them.

*Astora’s Straight Sword*

Straight sword of an unknown knight, likely one of Astora’s superiors.

High-Quality sword imbued with a powerful blessing.

*Crest Shield*

Shield of a nameless knight, likely a high-ranked knight of Astora.

One of the enchanted blue shields. The Crest Shield greatly reduces magic damage.

*Estus Flask*

An emerald flash, from the Keeper’s soul. She lives to protect the flame, and dies to protect it further.

The Undead proceeds his way up the stairs and upon turning a corner against a ledged walkway, he sees himself staring into the courtyard in which he fought the Asylum Demon. With his new Straight Sword, he is able to deal divine damage, perhaps something that will aid him in slaying the Demon.  The Undead looks down onto the courtyard, the Asylum Demon lay underneath him, awaiting him. The Undead took a deep breath and then lunged forward. He stuck his sword out and as he fell to the Demons head, his sword plunged through its skull, the Demon shook him off quickly, but it was clear that it had taken a major hit. It roared at the Undead, it’s razor teeth lining it’s gums and it’s red eyes glaring at the Undead. It swung it’s hammer down, but the Undead rolled to the side and sliced the Demon’s body. The cut had went clean through, then the Undead followed up with another series of attacks. The Demon then used it’s broken wings to take flight, catching the Undead off guard. However, it wasn’t long until the Demon flopped back down onto the ground, causing a minor earthquake. The Undead was clear of its landing, and thus, unharmed, continued his assault.  The Demon roared once again and with the tip of his hammer, swung down at the Undead.  The Undead used this to his advantage as he rolled into the Demon and made a final cut to its body, spilling blood over the courtyard. As the Demon fell, the air sighed. The Undead took a sip of the Estus and walked towards the large metal doors. He opened them with two hands and saw a field of grass. There was a singular tiled walkway that led the Undead.

He was unsure of how to reach the lands in which he needed to go, but as the walkway ended, and as the Undead peered off a cliff leading to an inevitable rocky demise, a large dark feathered beast flew over and grabbed the Undead with its two talons. Before he knew it, the Undead was flown across the lands and landed in Lordran; in the desolate Firelink Shrine.

Just Another Day

Hello once again and today we are still on the Mabinogi train, I’m currently working on another Game Based Story….. that’s a mouthful. I’m working on another spin-off…. that’s… you know what? That might work. Let’s leave it at that. I’ll be working on another spin-off, with a game that is pretty much one of the best narrative gems out on the gaming world from the past few years. At least, that’s how I take it, because this game breaks all convention bounds, and pretty much defines it’s own way to tell a narrative. With all due respect to that game, my story is going to be heavily based on a “Play through” of the game. We’ll be following the main character (Whoever that may be…..) and explore this sundered and distraught world that the game developers have created for us. But since I also want some “truth” to the story I’ll have to do some research and take a bit of time to get everything in line, but hopefully I will have something soon and if not, then, well…. we’ll see then. For now, enjoy, here it is (Oh and this one is another strange one, and if you have read the last Mabinogi-related story, then you will see a trend…. hmmm), “Just Another Day”.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly and the air had the sweet scent of sunflowers. I walked lazily along the stone covered pathway as I headed towards the old blacksmith, Ferghus. Out here in Tir Chonnail things were peaceful. I once heard stories of war and turmoil within this land, but the one thing I know for sure, is that right now, It’s at peace.

I soon arrived at the old blacksmith’s forgery just outside of Tir Chonnail and greeted him with a wide grin on my face. He did the same and gave off a chuckle with his large belly while he smashed away on his anvil. I pressed up against a nearby tree and looked up into the clear sky. With days like these, the only thing I feel like doing is to just relax near Ferghus, for some reason the sound of his hammer puts me at ease. It’s a relaxing and reassuring sound, I haven’t figure out why, but it is.

Just for today, something unique happened. Ferghus had given me a request, he grabbed a finished sword and stuck it out at me. I was surprised, but I figured what he wanted me to do. He said in a hearty and loud voice.

“Hey, Yolvan, mind doing me a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I need you to deliver this to Ronald at the school, he’ll know what to do with it.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks!”

I took the sword from his hand, I immediately felt the weight as my shoulder was pulled towards the ground and I had to hold it with two hands. It was heavy all right, but it wasn’t a claymore. I inspected it more closely. It had a strange pattern across the side of the blade but other then that it should have been a regular short sword. I wasn’t sure what made it special, or why it was so heavy. I could carry any other regular sword no problem. Either way I went about my business and went to the school.

Just outside the building was Ronald slashing away on a few training dummies. I went up to him and he greeted me with a gentle voice.

“What brings you here?”

“Delivery, from Ferghus.”

“From that old man you say?”

I handed him the sword, and he grabbed it without trouble. Maybe I had just gotten weaker. He inspected the sword in the same manner as me, but had a more surprised look on his face. He was staring at the strange pattern across the side of the blade, I never really understood it either, it looked like a strange knot.  He remained wide eyed until I broke him out of it by asking him a question.

“What does that symbol mean?”

“Oh this, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why?”

“It’s something that doesn’t need explaining.”

I shrugged at the notion and turned around to return. But Ronald stopped me as he pulled his sword in front of me, blocking my path. He said with a stern voice.

“Don’t leave.”

“Hmmm?”

“They’re coming.”

“What?”

Suddenly the ground began rumbling. It was hard to keep balance, Ronald told me to get into the school. I was confused. Lassar had opened the door and began casting magic. What was going on?

“Hurry!” Ronald shouted.

I rushed into the school while Lassar had finished casting  a barrier around the perimeter. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I listened to them. Whatever it is, they’ll take care of it, I said to myself as a large explosion happened. I opened the door quickly, but all I saw was scorched grass and the bodies of Ronald and Lassar on the ground. A large looming shadow was cast over me and I looked up to see an abomination. It was a large creature with four arms, and two wings. It carried two large swords and had bandages wrapped around it’s arm. It’s eyes were covered in leather but it’s mouth was exposed and it showed it’s sharp teeth. It roared loudly and sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared and couldn’t move a muscle. I was hopeless. And with a single lift of its arm and a single swing of its blades, it was all over.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly and the air had the sweet scent of sunflowers. I walked lazily along the stone covered pathway as I headed towards the old blacksmith, Ferghus. Out here in Tir Chonnail, things were peaceful. I once heard stories of war and turmoil within this land, but the one thing I know for sure, is that right now, It’s at peace.

I soon arrived at the old blacksmith’s forgery just outside of Tir Chonnail and greeted him with a wide grin on my face. He did the same and gave off a chuckle with his large belly while he smashed away on his anvil. I pressed up against a nearby tree and looked up into the clear sky. Days like these, the only thing I feel like doing is to just relax near Ferghus, for some reason the sound of his hammer puts me to ease. It’s a relaxing and reassuring sound, I haven’t figure out why, but it is.

Just for today, something unique happened. Ferghus had given me a request, he grabbed a finished sword and stuck it out at me. I was surprised, but I figured what he wanted me to do. He said in a hearty and loud voice.

“Hey Hanes, mind doing me a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

The Fate Of The Milletians

Hello, so among the many ideas that are currently going through my head as for what I want to do, I decided to lightly, just lightly revive something that I’m pretty passionate about which is my game series. I’ve recently revealed that I am a big fan of all things anime/light novel related and as for the topic regarding whether I think they are on the same level as traditional sources for novel mediums or in other words whether they hold the same value as books, well, in short, yes. But that’s for another day. Right now, it’s all about games. Despite what most people don’t know, or perhaps, in this day and age, what most people are discovering, games actually do have a vivid story. Most of them, not all. And some are yet to be found, let’s just leave it at that. Today this short story, or more appropriately to most people, this “Fan Fiction”, and oh god, I hate using that word. You know, today is just not the day to be talking about these things. I just….. no. Let’s just leave it at short story. Today’s short story is about a MMORPG(I was planning to leave what it’s abbreviated for, but you know, I think that’s a little, just a little cliche, but I’l Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game) called “Mabinogi”. It’s in short a very fun (My opinion) sandbox game. In other words, a perfect fantasy life. But with how things are this game is very cheery, I mean, if you just glance at it’s art style, and pretty much most screenshots, you will see a bright tone. A very vibrant bright art style appealing to kids (I’m a kid at heart, always will be). But the story you find yourself versed inside of this world can be very dark, filled with betrayal, tragedy, and many other themes that contrast with it’s colors. I found myself versed within the story lines and I actually haven’t played much of Mabinogi to be honest but this short story that I found based on it that I made back when I did really tells a lot. I wouldn’t call it a parody or satire, but it definitely has this macabre humor that I haven’t really tried that often. But enough rambling, phew, here you guys go, and yes you can still read this without having played the game. I feel like an outsider will just be, you know, just that much more shocked I guess. But let’s see what you guys think. Here it is, “The Fate Of The Milletians”.

My head was spinning, my vision was blurry, and my memory was fazed. I got up slowly, I had no idea where I was. I looked up, the sky was blue and clear. Suddenly a gust of wind blew across my face and the scent of flowers followed thereafter. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I looked around my surroundings. I was sitting on a bed of grass, and a few trees were surrounding the area. I was in a grassy plain area. I can’t seem to recall what had happened, but I checked what was on my person. I had some basic clothing, and a sword. I got up slowly but my balance was off. I regained my balance slowly and decided to find my bearings.

There was a large overbearing gate to the north, and to my south I could faintly see a village. I decided to head to the village, but I soon encountered trouble. I was surrounded on all sides by brown dire wolves. Their fur was flowing in the wind and they growled at me. Saliva was dripping from their sharp teeth and they gave me a ferocious look. When I looked closely, I saw blood stains on their teeth. They circled around me, there was five of them. I inspected the sword in my hand. It was slightly damaged, but I could do it.

Suddenly, they charged at me. I went after the one in front of me and swung horizontally at it. It hit and the wolf was sent back. I quickly turned around and slashed a wolf horizontally as it leapt at me. The wolf hit the ground with a satisfying thump. I turned around again and stabbed another wolf that was charging at me. My blade stuck into the hide of the wolf and I forcefully pulled it out leaving the wolf to lay on the ground.

Suddenly a ting of pain  enveloped my entire body, I looked down to see a wolf gnawing at my leg. I drove my sword into its back but it didn’t let go.  It bit harder and harder as my sword drove through its skin. Then another wolf came and bit my other leg, I quickly pulled out my sword, the first wolf had fallen. But there was a problem, both my legs at this point had been severely injured and I could hardly stand.

The wolf let go and I fell to my knees. A large pool of blood formed and the wolf came for my right arm. The one with my sword. I flailed frantically but couldn’t push it off. The wolf then sunk it’s teeth even deeper into my arms as the sound of my flesh being ripped apart resounded within my ears.. My arm soon flopped down as the wolf let go of its bite. My body slowly fell and as I was lying on that blood stained  grass, the remaining  brown wolf began nibbling away at my body. I was losing vision, and suddenly, It all went black.

My head was spinning, my vision was blurry, and my memory was fazed. I got up slowly, I had no idea where I was. I looked up, the sky was blue and clear. Suddenly a gust of wind blew across my face and the scent of flowers followed thereafter. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I looked around my surroundings. I was sitting on a bed of grass, and a few trees were surrounding the area. I was in a grassy plain area. I can’t seem to recall what had happened, but I checked what was on my person. I had some basic clothing. I got up slowly but my balance was off. I regained my balance slowly and decided to find my bearings.

There was a large overbearing gate to the north, and to my south I could faintly see a village. I decided to head to the village, but I soon encountered trouble. I was surrounded on all sides by brown dire wolves. Their fur was flowing in the wind and they growled at me. Saliva was dripping from their sharp teeth and they gave me a ferocious look. When I looked closely I could see large blood stains on one of the wolves teeth. One of them had a huge snack, and it was lusting for more blood. There was five of them, and I saw a sword that was a little ways in the grass in front of me.

Suddenly they charged at me, I rushed over to the sword and grabbed it. But I was too slow. One of the wolves bit into my leg, and I quickly drove the blade into its hide. With my other leg I kicked it away. I knelt down on one leg. The wound was pretty large, but there was still four of them after me. One leapt towards me and pushed me on my back. I used my arms to keep it at a distance as it violently tried to rip my face apart. It’s breath was painstaking and it’s saliva was dripping onto my face. I managed to exert enough force to push it off, but the rest of the pack came onto me.

As I was pinned down on the grass, one of the wolves ripped my arm apart. The others worked on my legs. And the last wolf, the one who had large stains on its teeth, ripped open my stomach. I couldn’t see much as my vision at this point was getting blurry. Suddenly,it all went black.

My head was spinning, my vision was blurry, and my memory was fazed. I got up slowly, I had no idea where I was. I looked up, the sky was blue and clear. Suddenly a gust of wind blew across my face and the scent of flowers followed thereafter. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I looked around my surroundings. I was sitting on a bed of grass, and a few trees were surrounding the area. I was in a grassy plain area. I can’t seem to recall what had happened, but I checked what was on my person. I had some basic clothing. I got up slowly but my balance was off. I regained my balance slowly and decided to find my bearings.

There was a large overbearing gate to the north, and to my south I could faintly see a village. I decided to head to the village, but I soon encountered trouble. I was surrounded on all sides by brown dire wolves. Their fur was covered in blood and they growled at me.  Saliva was dripping from their sharp teeth and they gave me a ferocious look. Large blood stains were evident and it seemed they had a lust for blood. There was five of them and I could see a set of clothes and a sword in the distance.

Suddenly they charged at me, I rushed over to grab the sword, but I was too slow. One of the wolves bit into my leg, pinning me down. It tore apart my leg in a matter of seconds and I was rendered immobile. The rest of the wolves came to feast upon my helpless body. My vision was getting blurry as I lay flat down on the blood stained grass. Suddenly, it all went black.

My head was spinning, and I heard chewing. I couldn’t feel my body. My eyes finally adjusted and I looked around. My head couldn’t move, but I could see a dark red wolf eating something. Upon further inspection, I noticed it was my leg it was eating. The rush of pain soon entered my body, but I couldn’t scream. I simply stared at the wolf, and soon after four more had joined it. My arms, legs, and torso came to be a favorite of the wolves.

As my vision became blurry, an image of a woman came to me. She was wearing a white dress and had dark wings. She told me in an angelic voice.

“This, is the fate of the Milletian.”