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.
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.
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.
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.