Just a post/page where I basically have all of the entries in this series all at once where I will edit along side the releases as well. Thought it might come in handy to organize if any new person (hopefully….) decides to pick this up on a whim.
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 it’s 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
First Bell of Awakening
The Chosen Undead ascended the elevator back to the Church. He then went up the flight of stairs, and turned, to see another flight of stairs. After ascending all of the flight of stairs, the Chosen Undead was treated to a narrow passage way, with a large upper floor room in sight. Roaming the room, was a Channeler. The Channeler wore a large protective robe that seemed heavy to wear. His helmet had six eye holes to it, but the Chosen Undead deduced that the Channeler himself was not a being with six eyes. The Channeler carried around a Trident, which the Chosen Undead deemed as a tool worthy of stabbing holes within himself.
The one notion that the Chosen Undead couldn’t figure, was why this being was here in the first place. In a church. Perhaps, this Channeler was a priest? Or a cleric. Or perhaps, this Channeler was a being not of this realm, a being from a far off land, come to pilgrimage. Or perhaps this Channeler had a mission like his own. Either way, as the Chosen Undead stepped into the room, the Channeler rose his trident, and a beam of bright blue light began emanating at the tip, right before the three spikes. And, in another instance, the Channeler pushed his Trident forward and launched the beam into the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead raised his shield, but still felt the impact of the blast. His shield was not one that would deal with magic very well. The Channeler’s Soul Arrow was a sorcery that he needed to watch for.
The Chosen Undead decided to face the Channeler head on, as he would not be able to cast Soul Arrow if he was so up close. As the Chosen Undead closed in, the Channeler grabbed his Trident with both hands and stabbed at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead blocked with a hair to spare but still felt the impact of the hit. The Channeler was strong indeed. A bit strange, for a sorcerer, the Chosen Undead concluded. As the Channeler winded for another strike, the Chosen Undead rolled to the side and countered with a forward slash. It cut into the Channeler’s armor, but did not finish him.
The Channeler then placed his hand on the Trident and after a moment of concentrating, disappeared in a mist of blue light. The Chosen Undead then heard the sound of another Soul Arrow, and rolled just in time to dodge it. The Channeler teleported behind him, and after finishing his roll, the Channeler then winded for a large stab. The Chosen Undead stopped it with his shield, but was unable to counter at such a distance. The Channeler took advantage of this and winded another stab. The Chosen Undead had no choice but to block, but he couldn’t keep up with such powerful strikes. The Chosen Undead rolled back for room. But that caused the Channeler to cast another Soul Arrow.
As the Chosen Undead dodged the Soul Arrow, he advanced towards the Channeler. The Channeler grabbed it’s Trident, but before it could finish its wind up, the Chosen Undead stabbed through the Channeler’s armor. The Channeler still persisted, and attempted to stab the Chosen Undead. It nicked him, and the Chosen Undead gave another upward slash. The Channeler’s armor gave in, and the Chosen Undead chained a final stab and finished him off.
The Chosen Undead pressed on towards a set of stairs and ascended two ladders until finally peering off into the church roofs. He looked up to see the bell. It was a final stretch, all he needed to do was walk towards the Bell Tower. As the Chosen Undead walked onto the Church’s roof and began walking towards the Bell Tower, he noticed that the decorative gargoyles that perched itself on the Tower’s ledges were moving. He stopped in his tracks and focused his attention to the stone gargoyles. Before he knew it, bits and pieces of stone were falling from the gargoyle and it began moving in place. Without a second warning, the gargoyle broke free from its spot; like it had become freed from a spell holding it in place, waiting for a Chosen Undead to walk upon the rafters and seek the bell. The Bell Gargoyle flew down from its perch and landed in front of the Chosen Undead. It roared in front of the Chosen Undead and swung it’s Gargoyle Halberd in front of the Chosen Undead. It’s spiked tail flailed in front of the Bell Gargoyle and served as another means of attack. On its left hand was the Gargoyle’s Shield, but considering the tough scales that must have covered this beast, it’s purpose must be mere decorative.
The Chosen Undead circled around the Bell Gargoyle, but before it could make any ground, the Bell Gargoyle flew up using it’s stone wings and before descending in front of the Chosen Undead, used its tail to swipe the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead blocked, but as the Bell Gargoyle landed on the rafters; used it’s Halberd for a horizontal swing. The Chosen Undead rolled in time and swiped at the Bell Gargoyle. The Sword cut into its skin but the Chosen Undead noticed that his body was more like armor than anything. It’s rough stone scales served as a layer of defense in of itself. The Bell Gargoyle held it’s Halberd with two hands and crashed down on the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead blocked the strike head on and countered swiftly with a vertical slash. The Gargoyle used its wings and flew once again. The Chosen Undead anticipated this move and grabbed a Black Firebomb. He had one left, but he only needed one. Before the Bell Gargoyle could attack, the Chosen Undead threw the Black Firebomb into the Gargoyle’s face, causing it to stagger, but nonetheless the Gargoyle used its tail to swipe at the Chosen Undead. Upon being blocked, the Gargoyle flew down using it’s Halberd as a grounding tool as the Gargoyle did a downward swipe. The Chosen Undead rolled, and as the Gargoyle landed, did another downward slash. The Bell Gargoyle surely must have taken a beating, but it stood tall and simply swiped at the Chosen Undead.
After a succession of blocks, the Chosen Undead felt the tire of the battle. But before he could recover to fight the Bell Gargoyle, he noticed something odd. It was the sound of flight. And behind the first Bell Gargoyle, a second had landed before him. The Chosen Undead moved back to reassess the situation, but before he could cover much ground, the second Bell Gargoyle opened its mouth wide and spewed fire onto the rafters. The Chosen Undead brought his shield up, but as the attack finished, the first Bell Gargoyle flew up and used its tail to break the guard of the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead was vulnerable, and the second Bell Gargoyle took advantage of this and used its own Halberd to slice the Chosen Undead.
The Chosen Undead backed off after taking the hit. He was in a tight situation. A one on one wasn’t much of a problem, but managing both might prove otherwise. The second Gargoyle used its wings and took flight. Without a second warning, it began flying over the Chosen Undead, spewing fire down at the rafters as it did. The Chosen Undead brought up his shield, and as the Gargoyle landed behind him, gave room for the first Gargoyle to take a thrust at the Chosen Undead using it’s Halberd. The Chosen Undead dodged, but before he could use his remaining energy to strike back, the second Gargoyle had already begun blanketing the rafters with flames. The Chosen Undead had no choice but to roll back and give himself space.
The Chosen Undead had one trick that he could use, however he wasn’t sure if he could this time as well. But nonetheless it was his only option. He grabbed the White Sign Soapstone, and gripped it as if he was going to crush it. Before him, he noticed yellow writings inscribed on the rafters; previously not there. The Chosen Undead rushed towards it and placed his White Sign Soapstone on it. Without warning a bright yellow light began emanating from the rafters. Like before, Solaire appeared before him, this time showing up with his two hands stretched out right. As he gained a grasp on the situation, Solaire grabbed his Talisman and began casting the miracle Lightning Spear. The two Gargoyles rushed in at the sight of a new Undead. The first swiped down hard at Solaire, but I managed to block. Just as the second Gargoyle had flown up and was ready to strike down at us, Solaire let loose his Lightning Spear and stopped the flying Gargoyle in its tracks. It was especially good at peeling scales, it seemed. The second Gargoyle flew back down after being struck, and the first came in with its Halberd and did a wide sweep. I managed to block the mass of the attack, which prompted Solaire to rush in with his Straight Sword to take a gander at the weakened first Gargoyle. It stepped back and roared after the strike, and I followed up with a wide upward slash with my Black Knight Sword. The first Gargoyle fell, and all that was left was the second Gargoyle. It flew up and tried to blanket us with flames, but Solaire and I both used our shields, and as it fell to the ground, we surrounded it. I used my Black Knight Sword to stab through its tail, which caused the Gargoyle to roar and attempt to turn, but Solaire stopped it with a slash towards its neck. The Gargoyle stepped back, and before it could use its wings, Solaire jumped up and impaled his sword into the back of the Gargoyle’s neck. The Bell Gargoyle fell shortly thereafter, and Solaire left without another word. A Sunlight Medal was left on the rafters, and so the Chosen Undead pocketed it, alongside a Gargoyle Helm, and Twin Humanities.
Helm of the gargoyle, an enchanted creature that guarded the Bell of Awakening in the belfry of the undead Church.
This bronze helm was for more appearance’s sake as gargoyle skin is naturally hard. Little in the way of defense can be expected from it.
Rare tiny black sprite found on corpses. Very unusual twin humanity.
This black sprite is called humanity, but little is known about its true nature. If the soul is the source of life, then what distinction is left for humanity?
The Chosen Undead traversed the rest of the rafters until he finally made it to the Bell Tower. Upon climbing up a harrowing ladder, the Chosen Undead was finally met with the first Bell of Awakening. The Chosen Undead pulled down the lever, and listened as the Bell swayed back and forth, causing a loud sound to resound within the area. As he was finished, he went down the Bell Tower, and saw an unfamiliar face. There was a man, with his arms stretches out to his side, wearing all black alongside a mask that hid his face. He was Oswald of Carim. The Chosen Undead inquired.
“Greetings. I am Oswald of Carim, the pardoner. Thou art a friend. For thee, a warm welcome. Cometh thou to confess? Or to accuse? For indeed all sin is my domain.” Oswald seemed to have wares of his own to sell. But different from other merchants. One item seemed to be of great interest to the Chosen Undead, and so he purchased it. It was a Purging Stone; a square stone that had a skull encased in it.
Ash-colored stone encasing a skull. Secret treasure of Arstor, the Earl of Carim.
Humans are helpless against curses, and can only redirect their influence. The Purging Stone does not dispel curses, but receives them as a surrogate. The stone itself was once a person or some other being.
As the Chosen Undead turned back to head to rest at Firelink Shrine, Oswald gave one last remark.
“Thou art welcome anytime. It is only human to commit a sin.” Oswald begins laughing. As the Chosen Undead makes it back to the Church, he sees a peculiar figure. It was man dressed in all gold armor. He was walking about, and the Chosen Undead approached him. He didn’t seem hostile, but he did have weapons on him; two Shotels. Surely such a man with gleaming armor, was no pushover. He was Knight Lautrec of Carim.
“Hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I am Knight Lautrec of Carim. We are both Undead. Perhaps we can help one another.” Lautrec begins laughing. The Chosen Undead evaluates Lautrec. Another Undead. The Chosen Undead wonders, but Lautrec is not a man who is open to such formalities. The Chosen Undead shrugs and heads down the elevator, back to Firelink Shrine.
Lower Undead Burg
Upon reaching Firelink Shrine and resting, the Chosen Undead had a bout with the Crestfallen Warrior.
“Why, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to make it. Oh, somebody rang the bell, wait, was it you?” The Chosen Undead nodded.
“You never give up, do you? I don’t know how you do it. Well, don’t stop now. Only one more, but it’s going to be suicide.” The Crestfallen Warrior began laughing. As if remembering something, the Crestfallen Warrior looked up.
“Oh, have you seen that terribly morose lass? The Fire keeper. She’s stuck keeping that bonfire lit.” The Crestfallen Warrior points in the direction of the Bonfire.
“Sad, really. She’s mute, and bound to this forsaken place. They probably cut her tongue out back in her village, so that she’d never say any gods’ name in vain. How do these martyrs keep chugging along? I’d peter out in an instant.” The Crestfallen Warrior begins laughing. But he’s not finished, remembering more as he recalls his days of sitting at Firelink Shrine.
“How did that silly sorcerer’s apprentice end up? You know, the one always prattling on about Master Logan. He left for the Undead Burg, but never came back. Servers him right. If even Old Big Hat can’t make it out of there, what chance does he have? I hope he enjoys his new life as Hollow.” The Chosen Undead tries to recall, but does not remember seeing anyone there that could resemble a sorcerer. The Chosen Undead inquires about the sorcerer, but the Crestfallen Warrior speaks no more of him, and simply hands the Chosen Undead a key, implying if he wants to know, to use that key. It was the Basement Key.
Opens the narrow passage leading below at the far face of the great bridge in the Undead Burg. The lower Undead Burg is a treacherous place. Do not turn your back on the wily thieves, or the wild dogs who serve the Capra Demon.
The Chosen Undead remembers the locked door before the fight with the Hellkite Drake on the bridge. Perhaps this was the Key to open it. Blighttown, where the second Bell of Awakening was located was said to be down below the Undead Burg; so the Crestfallen Warrior said. Before the Chosen Undead got to leave, the Crestfallen Warrior gave one last remark.
“Well, what are you going to do? I’ve already decided. I don’t really care; I’m simply crestfallen.” It was a strange remark, thought the Chosen Undead. Perhaps he was hinting at more pressing matters than doing his mission. But no matter. After recollecting his thoughts, the Chosen Undead remembered that he had a peculiar Soul on him. A Fire Keeper Soul. Perhaps, the Fire Keeper of the area would know what to do with it. Rather, the Chosen Undead remembered she was mute, but….. maybe showing her the Soul, would still spark something. The Chosen Undead noticed a set of worn stairs besides the Crestfallen Warrior and descended them. At the base of the stairs, he noticed a man dressed in all golden armor. It was Lautrec.
“Oh, hello. I’m considering a change of location. I have a rather, pressing matter to attend to up above. That keeper has served me well, but… enough with her… “ Lautrec begins laughing. The Chosen Undead moves up and turns to see a woman, sitting with her hands on her lap, behind iron bars. She doesn’t look up to notice the Chosen Undead, rather, she doesn’t look like she rather cares for it. Her green hair makes for a showing as it matches her dingy robes. The Chosen Undead makes a remark about having a Fire Keeper Soul. She looks up this time. The Chosen Undead places the Fire Keeper Soul over the bars, and the Fire Keeper points at the Chosen Undead’s waist, at his Estus Flask. The Chosen Undead places the Estus Flask over the bars, and as the Fire Keeper grabs the Fire Keeper Soul, she places it over the Estus. A bright light flashes and before the Chosen Undead could notice what was going on, the Soul had disappeared. The Estus Flask bubbled for a few seconds, and after handing it back to the Chosen Undead, he remarks that it feels more powerful. He thanks the Fire Keeper and heads on his way. The Fire Keeper, Anastacia of Astora, makes no movement to regard the thanks.
The Chosen Undead makes his way back to the bridge where he fought the Hellkite Drake. He uses the key to unlock the door, and climbs down a ladder. Upon descending a few flights of stairs, the Chosen Undead finds himself in Lower Undead Burg. He sees piles of bodies being burnt in a corner, along with unmanned wagons and an empty well. Boxes and wooden wheels scattered among the stone floor. Before the Chosen Undead could make any proper footing, he was instantly faced with two Undead Attack Dogs. These Dogs had flesh sticking out as their purple skin indicated their long lost life. They had no ulterior motive other than ravaging the Chosen Undead. They were quick, and ferocious, but weak in nature. Surely a bite, would not be very well for the Chosen Undead, so he had to be careful. The first Attack Dog leapt up and tried to bite the Chosen Undead, but was met with his shield. As he tried to slice down at the Dog, it leapt back, effectively dodging the strike, and leaving room for the second Attack Dog to give a successful bite to the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead took it head on and stabbed down on the Dog, killing it in one hit. The remaining Dog came rushing in, but before it could jump up to strike, the Chosen Undead impaled his Sword into its back.
The Chosen Undead pressed on, but before he could get far, he noticed a sound. It was behind him, and as he turned he noticed the sound emanated within a door; it was muffled. He searched the doors until he found the source. Although in the distance, he was able to see a horde of Hollows holding torches, they were more than fine being secluded to their own devices, and didn’t really show any hostility towards the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead pressed his ears on the door, and heard a voice.
“Somebody! Please let me out of here! Somebody, anybody! Help me! Unlock the door!” The Chosen Undead stood back, and with his Sword, smashed the door open. Upon entering, he noticed the room was littered with barrels, in one, was a body. In front of him, however was a man, in blackish robes who held a staff; a Sorcerer’s Catalyst. He greeted the Chosen Undead.
“Brilliant! You opened the door for me! Thank you; I am saved. I thought I might never escape. I am Griggs of Vinheim. A sorcerer of the school. I am much obliged for your assistance. Thanks to you, I may now resume my travels.” Griggs leaves and the Chosen Undead pillages the body. On it, the Chosen Undead finds a Sorcerer Set and a Sorcerer’s Catalyst; however, he himself is not one versed with such arts.
Set worn by proper sorcerers who studied at Vinheim Dragon School.
The majority take pride in having studied at the academy and look down on breaking the formal dress code established for sorcerers.
Sorcery Catalyst used by sorcerers of Vinheim Dragon School
The Undead pressed on. But before long, as he was making his way through the Lower Undead Burg, he heard the sounds of doors being kicked in. He looked behind him to see two open wooden doors, and two Undead Assassin’s standing in their way. They dressed in a Leather Hood and held their Target Shield up high as their Bandit’s Knife stayed safe near their body. The Chosen Undead studied the two Assassin’s but before he could get good grounding, they began using Throwing Knives. The Chosen Undead blocked the Knives with ease, and charged in towards them. As he got close, he struck down at one of the Undead Assassin’s but this was easily met with a parry. The Assassin then latched onto the Chosen Undead’s head and proceeded to bring his dagger up to the Chosen Undead’s neck. The Chosen Undead struggled, but the Assassins’ Knife lodged itself into the Chosen Undead and left him laying on the floor. The Chosen Undead got up; somehow, and as the Assassin came to finish off his prey, the Chosen Undead bashed away his Knife and proceeded to stab the Assassin hard through his leather robes. The Assassin fell, but the Chosen Undead had no respite as the second Assassin came around towards the Chosen Undead’s back. Before the Chosen Undead could turn in response, the Assassin latched itself on the Chosen Undead’s back and forced a Knife to his throat. The Chosen Undead struggled to throw off the Assassin, and finally got the Undead off of him. As the Assassin stumbled to the floor, and recovered in breakneck speeds, the Chosen Undead gave a downward slam. The Assassin dodged, and then rushed in for a quick stab. The Chosen Undead intercepted with his sword, and then with his shield, bashed the Assassin. As the Assassin stumbled, the Chosen Undead closed in and stuck his sword through the Assassin’s head. The Chosen Undead took a sip of Estus and moved on.
As he trudged forward, he heard the sounds of more doors being kicked in. Three Undead Assassins lay in his path. Going forward, two more Undead Attack Dogs also littered the small connecting bridge that led out from the Lower Undead Burg. Both spotted the Chosen Undead and began running towards him. The Chosen Undead focused, although he was faced with far too many enemies to handle, he could still win. One of the closer Assassin’s closed in on him, but before he could strike, the Chosen Undead rolled back; effectively dodging both of the Attack Dog’s bites in the process. The Chosen Undead then impaled one of the Dogs, and rolled out of the way for the second. Two Assassin’s threw Throwing Knives at the Chosen Undead, but was met with his shield. Another came rushing in, to get a quick stab. The Chosen Undead blocked the still remaining dog from biting him then used his Sword to give distance to the Assassin. As the Assassin skillfully dodged his Sword, the Chosen Undead then shifted his shield’s focus and bashed into the Assassin, leaving him staggered. The Attack Dog then jumped at the Chosen Undead, but was met with a slice through its mouth. The Chosen Undead picked up the pace and did a feint slash at the Assassin and while the Assassin’s failed parry left him vulnerable, the Chosen Undead stabbed through his leather armor. The Chosen Undead then closed in on the remaining two Assassin’s. The Chosen Undead slammed his sword down on the ground, missing the Assassin on purpose. As the Assassin closed in to punish the Chosen Undead, the Chosen Undead grabbed his sword and swung it back up from the ground, effectively cutting clean through the Assassin. The Chosen Undead then used his shield to push the last Assassin’s shield back and followed with a quick stab.
Before pressing on, the Chosen Undead decided to quickly catch his breath. Upon walking further, the Chosen Undead noticed a den of sorts. It was eerily quiet. In fact, dreadfully quiet. As the Chosen Undead stepped into this isolated den, that had stairs leading to a rafter of sorts, he noticed, that this den had a resident. In fact, three of them. The Chosen Undead was suddenly met with a demon. It’s head was that of a goat, with two spiked horns protruding from its skull and four gleaming red eyes. It was standing on two hinged feet and it carried two Demon Great Machetes. The Capra Demon was much shorter than the Taurus Demon, and much shorter than the Asylum Demon. However, with the size it lacks, it makes up in agility. The Capra Demon was just a notion taller than the Chosen Undead. Before engaging the Capra Demon however, the Chosen Undead noticed two Undead Attack Dogs, pets of a sort. The Chosen Undead strengthened the grip of his weapon and shield, and prepared to fight.
As the Chosen Undead stepped forward to face the Capra Demon, two Undead Attack Dogs sprung up from the sides and attacked the Chosen Undead. He was able to block both bites, but before he could counter, he noticed the Capra Demon had sprung up from its position and attempted to raze the Chosen Undead with its two Machetes. The Chosen Undead rolled in time to dodge the strike, but as the area he was fighting was quite small, he wasn’t able to gain much breathing room.
The two Dogs came rushing in, and the Chosen Undead had no choice but to take them. He sliced through the first Dog before it could attack, and blocked the second. Before he could strike, the Capra Demon came with a horizontal swing with both of its Machetes. The Chosen Undead rolled with a hair to spare and as he got up, noticed the Capra Demon was already in stance for another strike. The Chosen Undead was too slow, and took a slash towards his arm. The Capra Demon chained, and took another slash at the Chosen Undead. The remaining Dog then jumped up and attempted to bite the Chosen Undead; but was easily met with a bash by his shield. The Dog scampered on the ground, and the Chosen Undead impaled it to finish it off; however the Capra Demon wasn’t finished. It placed both of its Machetes together and winded for a strike. The Chosen Undead quickly grabbed a Black Firebomb and threw it into the Capra Demon’s face, fazing it for a short moment, but not enough to stop the Capra Demon entirely. The swing went through, but the Chosen Undead had more time, and was able to dodge successfully. At this moment, the Chosen Undead couldn’t afford getting hit, and he was out of Black Firebombs. But if he played his cards right, he could defeat the Capra Demon with ease.
The Chosen Undead focused, and, once he noticed the Capra Demon winding for another strike, he moved. The Capra Demon did a vertical slash at the Chosen Undead with one Machete, that was easily met with a block. With its second Machete, the Capra Demon swung to the Chosen Undead’s exposed side. The Chosen Undead narrowly blocked it with his Black Knight Sword, and pushed back against the Capra Demon. The Capra Demon possessed pure strength, being able to wield such armaments with ease, and thus was able to push back the Chosen Undead. However, as the Chosen Undead stepped back and as the Capra Demon jumped for a diving slam, the Chosen Undead rolled and cut the Capra Demon’s arm.
The Black Knight Sword cut clean through the Capra Demon’s flesh, causing blood to splatter on the grassy area beneath, and causing the Capra Demon to step back. The cut felt too easy, thought the Chosen Undead, in fact, it probably caused more damage than he had expected. Perhaps it was the Sword itself, but the Chosen Undead felt a familiarity in the cut. Like this was common place. Perhaps it was the Sword indeed. But nonetheless, the Capra Demon winded for another large swing, but the Chosen Undead was able to read it and dodge. The Chosen Undead then took a gander at the Capra Demon, striking it in the chest. Again, the damage was far exceeding than that of the expectations of the Chosen Undead; who followed up with another strike, causing the Capra Demon to fall back. The Chosen Undead didn’t let, and once he saw an opening, struck against the Capra Demon’s skull. The Capra Demon swung wildly at the Chosen Undead, but none of its strikes met with a target. The Chosen Undead then skillfully stabbed right into the Capra Demon between its swings, and stopped it in its tracks. The Capra Demon fell. The Chosen Undead couldn’t wield it’s Great Machetes, but took parts of it, perhaps one day, he will. Among that, he also found the Key to the Depths, a Humanity and a Homeward Bone.
*Demon Great Machete*
The lesser Capra demons use these greatswords in pairs. The blade is cast iron and hooked.
The sword is imbued with no particular magic, but for those who have the strength, it’s great weight will smash foes mercilessly.
*Key to the Depths*
Key opening the door from the lower Undead Burg to the Depths.
Those banished from the Undead Burg eke out their existence in the Depths, a damp lair with no trace of sunlight. Nearly half of the Depths form a perilous flooded labyrinth.
The Chosen Undead moved on, out of the den of the Capra Demon, and down a flight of stairs to the right. The Chosen Undead then found a locked door amongst the walls, and opened it using the Key to the Depths. Before traversing however, the Chosen Undead noticed another door, one that was elevated by a step of stairs. Upon climbing and opening that door, the Chosen Undead noticed that an even larger spiraling staircase stood before him. He climbed perilously, until reaching an entrance way, with a familiar sound of flowing water. He entering the waterway, wondering if it was the same, and before he could move any further, he was interrupted.
“Hmm, you still have your sense about you?” The Chosen Undead turned, to see a Hollow, behind rusted iron bars. Her clothes were of tattered rags, but, although being Hollow, she was still…. somehow sane, however much that can be. Much like the Undead Merchant the Chosen Undead met before. Peculiar beings indeed, thought the Chosen Undead.
“Then why don’t you buy some of my moss? I need your souls!” She began laughing. Her wares consisted of an assortment of Moss, each with its own special properties, whether it be for poison ailment, or even bleeding. None of which interested the Chosen Undead, but one particular item did, and the Chosen Undead figured it would be a sound move considering his recent lacking of Black Firebombs. The Chosen Undead purchased some Charcoal Pine Resin.
*Charcoal Pine Resin*
Black charcoal-like resin.
Affected weapon inflicts fire damage for a short time. Particularly effective against corporeal creatures and Undead, who have an instinctual fear of fire.
As he was done with his transaction, he turned towards the flowing water, until finally meeting with a bared door. He opened it and continued, until finally seeing an open. Upon walking out, he noticed that he was back to where this all began. He found himself staring at Firelink Shrine. A wondrous shortcut, he thought, and a fine time to rest up before heading deeper into the depths.
As he arrived in Firelink Shrine, he noticed that Griggs has set up shop here, or rather, was standing by idly.
“Oh, hello. I regret meeting you under such compromising circumstances. At least we both made it back unscathed. Incidentally, would you care to learn any sorceries? You’re clearly talented, and besides, I owe you. Of course, we will require some materials, but I am happy to teach you some elementary spells. Are you interested?” The Chosen Undead did not see much in his learning of such arts, he would rather prefer to keep his wits, and use his strength as he can see fit. He refused.
“Yes, I see. It is regrettable, but to each his own. If you change your mind, do not be bashful.” Before leaving however, Griggs had one last remark, as if he had just remembered the notion.
“Did you see them? The three young clerics, headed for the Catacombs, to seek Kindling. Kindling is the art of feeding bonfires. The poor young girl, sent down into a tomb. What a terrible mission she is burdened with.” The Chosen Undead thought back to Petrus of Thorolund. As the Chosen Undead left, he noticed Petrus, alongside three new companions that he had never seen before.
“Oh, hello. My guests have finally arrived. I will be departing with them shortly. So, I’m afraid I will be saying good-bye soon. It was a pleasure.” The Chosen Undead turned towards the three companions that joined Petrus. One of which, had white robes on and carried with her an Ivory Talisman; made of bright white cloth. She was Rhea of Thorolund.
“You are Undead, as well? Then we’ve no time to fraternize. I have my mission, and you no doubt have yours. We must not let this curse overcome us.” The two new faces beside her is no doubt the two guards that she has brought with her. The one on her left had no helmet on; contrasting with the one on her right. His hair was a bright blonde, and he wore a common Holy Set, that consisted of a metal overall, alongside a Mace and a Caduceus Kite Shield. The one on the right had the same Kite Shield, however he wielded the Crescent Axe, surely a sign of great faith. The one on the left was Vince, and the one on the right was Nico; two companions that has stayed with the esteemed Rhea for quite some time in Thorolund. Vince is the one to address the Chosen Undead.
“Hm? What have we here? You look awfully raggedy. Times are grim; the least you can do is look sharp. Don’t you dare meet M’lady like that. You might scare her off for good!” After the round robin talk with the three new faces, Petrus gave one last remark.
“Rhea is the youngest daughter of the good house of Thorolund. Those young knights are her old schoolmates. But I’m not sure what to make of them. I’m afraid they may be a bad influence.” The Chosen Undead looked again back to Vince and Nico, but could not see what Petrus could see. They seemed like loyal and decent people to him. No matter, the Chosen Undead went back to the Bonfire. The Crestfallen Warrior regarded him, and gave him a few more words before his rest.
“How did that nutty sorcerer make it back? Unexpected, but I suppose stranger things have happened.” The Chosen Undead wondered what stranger things he was referring to, but before he could ask, he went again.
“How did that raggedy old chum end up? You know, the one who idolized some godmother of pyromancy. He left for Blighttown, but never came back. Whereas most flee from sickness, he dives right in. Well, nothing will harm him once he goes Hollow.” Another person wandering the bellows of Hollows, the Chosen Undead thought. The Chosen Undead gave it no more heed, and simply thought to save him come the time it is needed, but for now, he sat at the Bonfire.
As the Chosen Undead finished resting, he made his way back to where he fought the Capra Demon, and entered the door he had opened previously. After descending two flights of stairs, he found himself in an unfamiliar underground area. All he knew was that he had entered the Depths. But before he could gain a proper standing as to where exactly he should go, he was assaulted by a Hollow. It was a plain Hollow; reddened bones and flesh, holding a rusty knife. The Chosen Undead had no trouble dispatching it with a quick slice. But, before he could advance, he was assaulted by a Hollow from behind, luckily blocking at the last second and dispatching it. As the Chosen Undead moved forward, he noticed a sort of sitting quarters. An area filled with benches and held atop by stone pillars. Hollows holding torches ran towards the Chosen Undead on sight.
The Chosen Undead slashed through the Hollows with ease. Unlike his previous foes, these simple Hollows served no challenge at his current level. The Chosen Undead doubled around the benches until finding a set of stairs leading down. An Undead Attack Dog lay waiting at the end of the stairs, but was easily met with a stab. The more pressing matters however was the rather large creature that was at the end of the room. The room itself seemed to be an extension of the previous, being held up with stone pillars. The only difference was the over lack of benches, and the added butcher table. There was meat on the table, being worked by a Butcher. The Butcher paid no heed to the Chosen Undead. Her helmet seemed to be a Sack, simple patchwork sack that covered her head. Upon her hand was a Butcher Knife, a large tool that required an abundance of strength to use. It’s gleaming steel cut clean through the meat she was working on. The Chosen Undead did not know whether she was foe or friend, but the most off striking hint might have been the fellow stuck in a barrel just a little ways away from her. He was still alive, barely scathed, but, still. It was a strange sight, but the man was indeed not trapped in that barrel of his own volition. With little heed to his captor, he spoke to the Chosen Undead.
“You must help me. Or else, she’ll have me for lunch! You’re my only hope.” The Chosen Undead found himself looking at the Butcher, who was still merrily working on the meat placed on the table. The man was Laurentius of the Great Swamp. In a fickle act of fate, he has somehow been found stuck in the barrel, about to be made into cannibal food. The Chosen Undead took a step back, and skillfully broke the barrel with his Sword, freeing Laurentius.
“Thank you. I would have been supper without you. Being eaten alive! I shudder to think. Thank you, thank you dearly. I am Laurentius of the Great Swamp. I will not forget my debt to you.” And that he won’t. The Butcher looked up from her work, and walked slowly to the Chosen Undead, who had freed her prey. Her Butcher Knife gleamed in the dim light, and as she got close, she swung at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead blocked the first strike, but as it did, another strike came down at him, leaving his guard vulnerable. Before the Chosen Undead could react to the Butchers last chained strike, a fire ball suddenly hurled itself into the Butchers face, leaving her staggered. From his side, Laurentius had begun casting another flame within his hand. His clothes were ragged, just some torn robes, but his hands were covered in bandages, not from any particular injuries he assumed. Laurentius threw the Fire Orb into the Butcher, leaving her still staggered. The Butcher changed her focus and came rushing at Laurentius with her Knife held high. Laurentius didn’t make a show to dodge the strike coming down at him, but instead cast another pyromancy. He placed his left hand into his right and without further casting, raised his right hand to block the Knife. His hand was glowing a bright sheen, the pyromancy Iron Flesh made it so that Laurentius could withstand the Knife, but also push it back. Laurentius forced the Butcher to back off, and with his left hand, he once again formed a ball of flame. Without hesitating, he rushed up to the Butcher and shoved the Fireball right into the face of the Butcher. The Chosen Undead then used his Black Knight Sword and finished off the Butcher with a final impale. Before the Chosen Undead could turn and thank Laurentius, he had already vanished.
The Chosen Undead walked to where the Butcher was , and noticed that the meat on the table was nothing that he had ever seen. Perhaps, victims. The Chosen Undead then noticed something peculiar. Behind the chopping table, was a single hole. The Chosen Undead jumped down, only to land on a pile of skull and bones. But that was the least of his worries. As he peered off towards a ledge, that led to a lower part of the Depths, he noticed a giant rat. It was the Giant Undead Rat. Like the one he saw in the waterway at the beginning of his journey, but larger. You know how it is. The Chosen Undead thought of fighting it head on, perhaps if he was skillful. But he shook the notion. The beast was simply overwhelming. The area of battle was also not that accommodating, the Giant Undead Rat took a good portion of the room, with very little space to run around. Upon further looking, he noticed that the Depths was a waterway of sorts in its own rights. Between the two walkway ledges, was a giant flowing bed of water. But no matter, the Chosen Undead had to deal with the situation somehow. Surely the Giant Undead Rat wouldn’t simply let him walk by. Not in this era, not in this world. Perhaps in another time, but, even then. Humans are creatures that betray. The Chosen Undead took out a patch of Charcoal Pine Resin and rubbed it against his Black Knight Sword. The Sword began emanating a bright red glow. It was now or never. The Chosen Undead jumped down from the ledge, and plunged right into the Giant Undead Rat. The now burning Sword placed a deep scar into the Rat’s back, but it didn’t matter much as the Chosen Undead jumped off the Rat’s back and immediately started doing a work on the Rat’s body.
The Giant Undead Rat fell without resistance, and the Chosen Undead looted a single Humanity from its body. The Chosen Undead finally found respite, as no further enemies could be seen. The Chosen Undead wandered around and followed the flowing water back to its source. He noticed a small walkway to his right and began walking towards it out of curiosity. Before he could react however, he suddenly fell down a well hidden hole, and descended even further down the Depths. The water in this area was more still, but nonetheless. The walls were covered in grey matter, and there were even corpses littered about. As the Chosen Undead grasped his new setting ,he was suddenly spotted by what appeared to be a large frog like creature. It’s hands and feet were webbed, and on its arms were small wing like fins. It’s eyes bulged out of its head, and below its throat was a small hanging sack. It crawled around on all fours, and studied the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead waited for it to strike first, but, was caught off guard. The Basilisk stood on its two hind legs and let the sack under its throat inflate until it was nearly touching the ground. Suddenly, the sack then deflated and the Basilisk dropped to all fours and sprayed a grey mist at the Chosen Undead. The mist wasn’t harmful at first, but the Chosen Undead soon noticed that his entire being was being put under subjugate the more he stayed in the fog. The fog wasn’t that large spread, so he rolled out of the way and quickly stabbed his Sword into the Basilisk, effectively killing it. The fog contained a curse, staying in that fog would have cursed the Chosen Undead, a fate not so much that of his own.
The Chosen Undead made a turn, but noticed that the area was littered with Basilisk. The Chosen Undead acted quickly and slashed the Basilisk so that they would not emit their fog. After killing the Basilisk, the Chosen Undead continued to walk forward, following the path of the flowing water. At a crossroads, the Chosen Undead noticed water flowing down, probably from the Depths above. As he gets lower, he must be getting closer to where the water was being dumped to. The Chosen Undead turned left and noticed a family of Rats. One was strikingly larger than the other two, but nonetheless, the Chosen Undead readied his Sword. The large Rat jumped first, nicking the Chosen Undead’s shield. The Chosen Undead bashed the Rat out of the way and used his Sword to kill the other two in swift succession. The large Rat jumped back at the Chosen Undead, but was met with his Sword halfway. The Chosen Undead felt a certain strength convulse in his arm. He’s been through quite a bit, and is used to the world around him. Perhaps, this world of Hollows is the one he was looking for. Perhaps, the only thing he wants is to be a Hollow, and live among this decrepit world. But he knows that is not his fate. That shouldn’t be his fate. Not now, at least not now. The Chosen Undead pressed on, making a right turn, and noticed stairs to a slightly upper Depths area. He climbed the stairs, and made his way until arriving at a sort of large walkway. To his right, he could see and hear large portions of water being drained below. To his left, he could see a fenced off area. The entrance being long but broken. Pillars scattered among the dry area, while water still drained in the middle. The area was lit by torches stuck on the wall. The Chosen Undead made his way down the middle of the water, to the fenced area.
As he got close, he noticed that there was a closed door at the end of the fenced area. The Chosen Undead figured he needed another key, and figured that his destination lay below, past this door. As the Chosen Undead was about to leave and head for an arched pathway he had noticed previously, he was interrupted, by a man sitting crossed legged. His armor was extremely eccentric, with his golden horned helm being the most outlandish. His neck was adorned with many small gold pendants, and his eyes were supported by a strange set of glasses, that hooked above his nose rather than under.
“Aye, siwmae. And good day to you. I’m Domhnall of Zena. I’m just, well, a peddler, of sorts. I adore trinkets and oddities, so I trade for them.” The Chosen Undead browsed his wares, but was mostly uninterested in the sets of armor and weapons that he offered. However, one item seemed to pique the interest of the Chosen Undead. It was Gold Pine Resin.
*Gold Pine Resin*
Rare pine which emits golden sparks.
Affected weapon inflicts rare lightning damage, making it effective against targets which are resilient to both magic and fire. Very effective against dragon family foes.
After purchasing the Gold Pine Resin, the Chosen Undead left for the arched pathway, and ascended a large flight of stairs. He was now standing and looking down on what seemed to be an indoor courtyard. The stone pathway that he was peering off of had castle like ridges to them. As he peered off into the distance, he noticed a large drop off. The water seemed to be draining towards that drop off. The Chosen Undead found himself a set of stairs and descended, but was only met with more stairs. After descending the stairs and making sure there were none left, he was met with an arched entry way, into the courtyard he was previously peering off to. He stepped forward, half the floor was covered in water, all draining to the same source. The Chosen Undead kept walking forward, but suddenly, he started feeling rumbling.
The Chosen Undead stood still in the water and focused, soon, something stuck out of the drainage basin. The Chosen Undead couldn’t figure what it was, it looked like a lizard of sorts, but to be able to see it at the range the Chosen Undead was meant it was extremely large. The lizard like creature suddenly looked up, and the Chosen Undead then realized that it wasn’t a lizard. Beneath the head of the creature, were spikes, presumably, teeth. They were slimy and shined in the lowlight. The creature’s huge hands then stuck out of the water and grabbed onto the surface of the courtyard. As it got a grip, it began climbing out of the basin, and stretched its body out onto the courtyard. It was a large creature, with two sets of hind legs, totaling four legs. It’s two front arms also served as legs; it crawled on all six. The Chosen Undead also noticed that it had wings sticking out of the side of it, however, they looked broken. As the Gaping Dragon noticed the Chosen Undead, it stood on its four legs and roared as it’s huge mouth pointed towards the top of the courtyard; it’s teeth lining every inch of its flesh. The Gaping Dragon wasn’t a perfect dragon, but was rather a remnant of the ages long past. Either way, it was content at the new meal it’s found.
The Gaping Dragon stood on its four legs and barred it’s teeth at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead stood his distance, and waited for a moment to strike. Judging from the way things might go, fighting this remnant of a dragon might be quite difficult. The area of battle was quite large, and the Gaping Dragon only covered barely half of the arena at a time. If the Chosen Undead waited and timed it right, he would be able to avoid any of its strikes. Considering the size of the creature, its attacks would have to be slow winded, and would probably cover a large area, but at the same time, would leave it extremely vulnerable. With this in mind, the Chosen Undead chose his range wisely as he advanced to the Gaping Dragon.
As the Chosen Undead came more within range, the Gaping Dragon lowered its stance and came crashing down on the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead rolled out of the way in time, before the body of the Gaping Dragon could crush him under its weight. Or perhaps, before he would be devoured by its body like mouth. Anywhere near the middle of the Gaping Dragon existed it’s mouth, lined with sharp teeth, and that would be a problem to approach. But his lower body and his tail and feet were all exposed. As the Chosen Undead thought this, the Gaping Dragon began crawling towards the Chosen Undead with great strength, leaving small vibrations with each step, and, if anything were in the way; rubble. The Chosen Undead rolled out of the Gaping Dragon’s stride, and once it stopped, came in to cut into the flesh of the Gaping Dragon. His Sword cut into the Gaping Dragon’s legs, but there was nary a sign of pain nor damage. It simply cut and nothing more. The Gaping Dragon then perched itself back on its four hind legs and chased the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead backed off, and waited for the Gaping Dragon’s next move.
The Gaping Dragon didn’t take lightly to what his first attack was, and thus, used it’s broken wings to take flight. The Chosen Undead looked up at amazement as the Gaping Dragon flew into the air, nearly touching the ceiling of the courtyard. The Gaping Dragon used its wings to slowly fly to the Chosen Undead, the Chosen Undead ran from the vicinity. Although the Gaping Dragon was slow, it’s body was able to cover a larger area than the Chosen Undead could avoid. If he wanted to dodge, he would need to run now, or undergo the risk of being crushed. As the Gaping Dragon stalked the Chosen Undead; slowly but surely, the Gaping Dragon’s wings gave in. It flopped back onto the ground, causing anything under it to be crushed, luckily the Chosen Undead had already made distance. As the Gaping Dragon stood on the ground with its four hind feet, it began pulsating. The massive mouth-body of the Gaping Dragon began churning and without warning, a massive amount of acid spilled on the battlefield.
The Chosen Undead ran towards the edge of the water basin to avoid the mass of acid that was now draining to wherever it was draining. The Chosen Undead slowly regained the distance, and as he got close, the Gaping Dragon slammed down once again. The Chosen Undead avoided the attack by simply being further than the slam. The Chosen Undead noticed that the small head of the Gaping Dragon was vulnerable in this state, and ran up to give it a few slashes before running a distance as the Gaping Dragon began its trampling crawl. The Gaping Dragon was tough indeed, but there was one thing that the Chosen Undead knew that could make a difference, Dragon descendant or not.
As the Gaping Dragon stood back on its hind legs, the Chosen Undead raced around, near its tail. The Gaping Dragon did not take fond of this maneuver, and simply swiped its large tail at the Chosen Undead, which was met with a sturdy block. The Chosen Undead continued to double back, and the Gaping Dragon, simply tired of this, flew using its wings, leaving the Chosen Undead vulnerable. This time however, the Gaping Dragon flopped back onto the ground rather quickly and assumed its standing position. As it noticed the Chosen Undead in front of it, it leaned forward ever so slightly and used its hands to sweep in for the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead acted quickly and rubbed his Sword with the Gold Pine Resin. His Sword began sparking, and just as the hand of the Gaping Dragon came within range, the Chosen Undead gripped his Sword and cut into the hand. The Gaping Dragon didn’t give, and simply used its other hand to attempt another grab at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead didn’t falter and used his now lightning induced sword to stab into the hand, forcing it back. As the Gaping Dragon took the damage, it reverted back to its crawling form, and left itself to the Chosen Undead’s barrage of attacks against its head.
The Gaping Dragon rushed forward to trample the Chosen Undead, but the Chosen Undead plunged his Sword deep into the layer of skin above its mouth like body, and using it as a hook of sorts, jumping onto the Gaping Dragon’s back. The Chosen Undead gripped hard and made sure not to falter off the back as the Gaping Dragon began its mislead trample. As the Gaping Dragon was finished, the Chosen Undead lifted his Sword and jumped off the back of the Gaping Dragon, just in time for it to assume it’s standing position. The Chosen Undead stood back and read the movements of the Gaping Dragon. The Gaping Dragon had no patience this time, and simply slammed onto the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead dodged backwards, and made enough room so that he could stab his Sword through the now exposed head.
As the Chosen Undead’s Sword lodged itself inside the Gaping Dragon’s head, the Chosen Undead twisted and turned the Sword, leaving sparks to resound in the air as the Gold Pine Resin was still in effect. The Chosen Undead was astounded by the vitality of the beast, but decided that there was only one option left. As before, just before the Chosen Undead was about to be trampled, the Chosen Undead lodged his Sword onto the Gaping Dragon and flung himself onto it’s back. But, as the Gaping Dragon assumed it’s standing position to throw off the Chosen Undead, he simply strengthen his grip, and as the Gaping Dragon was now standing, and the Chosen Undead was hanging from its back; he put his plan in motion. He loosened the grip on his Sword ever so slightly off the back, and instead poured all of his strength in a downward motion. As he was already hanging on the back, all he needed to do was plant his feet on the Dragon’s skin and push downward. The Chosen Undead began sliding down the Gaping Dragon with his Sword, leaving a large gaping wound in his trail. As the Chosen Undead finally reached the end of the back, he leapt off, and waited. Before he knew it, the Gaping Dragon fell, leaving a big crash in the flowing water, and a big dent to a nearby fallen pillar. The Chosen Undead noticed something shining near the Gaping Dragon’s body, and went to examine. It was the Blighttown Key. Upon that, he also scavenged a Humanity.
Key to Blighttown from the Depths of the Undead Burg. Swallowed by the Gaping Dragon.
As its name suggests, Blighttown is a place of great pestilence. Even the polluted inhabitants of the Depths are aware of its dangers, and built this mighty door in hopes that they could remain safely separated.
The Chosen Undead returned to where he met Domhnall, but was surprised to see him gone. No matter, he thought as he used the Key to open the large door. The Chosen Undead felt the night of the underground as soon as the door opened, and stepped forward on the stone walkway. To his left, he noticed a small Bonfire, just before a ladder, to where he assumed led to the accursed Blighttown. He took his rest.
After finishing his rest, the Chosen Undead decided to press on and descend the ladders. Upon reaching the bottom of the ladders, the Chosen Undead found himself standing on what seemed to be rafters of sorts. The platforms he was walking on were all made of wood, and they were being supported by wooden beams that seemed to go down forever. The Chosen Undead questioned the sturdiness and the quality of the wooden platforms he was walking on. But he gave it no heed, rather he had no time to give it heed.
In front of him, the Chosen Undead was met with a bulking creature. He wasn’t sure whether to classify it as an Undead, but the one thing he did know was that it wasn’t friendly. The creature was large in size despite having no armor. It was human like, except, it’s skin was blued, like it was infected with some kind of incurable virus. In its right hand, it wielded a Large Club. The Infested Barbarian charged the Chosen Undead, swinging its Club right into the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead brought his shield up and to his surprise deflected the Club. The Barbarian faltered back and the Chosen Undead used this chance to stab his Sword through the Barbarians body. The Barbarian got up promptly, but the Chosen Undead didn’t slow his movements and continued by slashing the Barbarian. Although his Sword cut right through the flesh of the Barbarian, it stood tall and simply swung its Club at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead parried his Club once again, and stabbed the Barbarian as a counter. This time, the Barbarian fell. The Chosen Undead noted it’s vitality, and wondered what other creatures lay waiting for him in these decrepit lands.
The Chosen Undead continued his way on the wooden platforms. Along the platforms, were wooden like structures that had pots sitting beside them. It all seemed strange, that a place like this existed. Who could have built all of this, wondered the Chosen Undead. And for what reason. The Chosen Undead thought back, and remembered that although he was in Blighttown, that the Bell of Awakening would probably be even lower, the wooden supports seemed to have suggested that as well. There was more to tread, and he had to get to lower grounds as soon as possible. The Chosen Undead peered off at the end of the wooden platforms and looked to see any reasonable scaffoldings. The Chosen Undead was surprised to see a lower platform, one that was within jumping distance. The Chosen Undead took any chance he could and took a few steps back before leaping onto the lower platform. After a successful jump, the Chosen Undead was instantly assaulted by Infested Ghouls; human sized creatures that were all flesh. Not a shred of skin, if their flesh was not considering as such, existed. Their white and ashen bones could be seen through the tiny slivers of flesh, and the ones that charged the Chosen Undead wielded weapons. One held a corpse, of what, even the Chosen Undead couldn’t tell at this point. Another held a rusted sword. These creatures did not seem to take kindly to their new visitor.
The Ghoul holding the corpse jumped up at the Chosen Undead and tried to bash him with the Corpse. The Chosen Undead stepped out of danger with a hair to spare and countered by sticking his sword through the sides of the Ghoul. The Chosen Undead brought his Sword out, and then deflected the other Ghoul. The Chosen Undead used his Shield to bash the Ghoul in front of him away and then finished the corpse holding ghoul with a swift slash. The Chosen Undead then reverted his attention and gave a telegraphed cross slash to the Ghoul in front of him. Without surprise, the Ghoul took the slash, and the Chosen Undead followed up with a stab, rendering the Ghoul dead. The Chosen Undead proceeded through the wooden platforms, ignoring the pots littered about, until he found a ladder, illuminated by a single torch. He climbed it, and proceeded through the wooden platforms. Before he could get far, he was instantly assaulted by an Infested Ghoul. This one had a spear, and stayed its distance as it poked the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead held his shield up to block each strike, however with things the way they are, he won’t be able to gain distance. The poking stopped, and as the Chosen Undead lowered his shield, he noticed that the Infested Ghoul had winded up for a large pounce and jumped at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead was grabbed furiously, but managed to push the Ghoul off before getting eaten. The Chosen Undead hurriedly grabbed his Sword and stabbed it through the head of the Ghoul. The Chosen Undead pressed on through the wooden platforms.
Before the Chosen Undead could realize it, he had already gone so far in that the only natural light of the area was by the torches surrounding the area. The wooden structures also became more complex, much more sturdy, but at the same time, housed nothing but beasts. The Chosen Undead descended another ladder, before making his way again. The area truly was complex. It was a bustling town indeed. The Chosen Undead began scaling the wooden platforms aimlessly, hoping to find some semblance of where to go. In the distance, he saw what seemed to be a stone walkway. The Chosen Undead, intrigued by this sudden change of layout went towards that stone support.
Upon reaching it, he noticed a Bonfire. The Chosen Undead gave a quick rest before venturing forward. The Chosen Undead moved forward, towards what seemed to be a large stone support and went around, as wooden platforms had been created circling around this pillar. At the end of his circling, he noticed another stone walkway. The purpose of these stone pathways must be as connecting bridges, thought the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead walked across the stone bridge and towards more wooden platforms. A Ghoul waited for him on the other side, but the Chosen Undead quickly dispatched it with a cross slash. As the Ghoul fell, the Chosen Undead noticed that the wooden platforms began to branch off. The Chosen Undead peered off and noticed more wooden platforms that led below. The Chosen Undead jumped from one platform to another; eventually climbing down a ladder. At the end of the ladder, he noticed a sloping platform, that led to what seemed to be a cave. Of course the Chosen Undead noticed promptly that the stone wall had just been opened, and this entrance was just that; an entrance.
Upon entering and making his way through, he noticed that he was in a sort of sewage tunnel. The drop off surely would have killed anybody, but luckily for the Chosen Undead, wooden platforms and ladders were created to help him. At the end of the caved in entrance, was another set of ladders. After traversing each one, the Chosen Undead felt that he was getting lower, and that was good. Save for the fact that he had a new threat. As the Chosen Undead ran down the platforms, he noticed a giant insect like creature hovering. It was a Cragspider. A creature with the appearance of a giant spider, but had short wings that aided it in movement. It’s body was bony and in the middle, was a reddened area, presumably where the head was. The Chosen Undead gave it no chance, and simply slashed into the fleshy middle of the Cragspider, rendering it immobile. As the Chosen Undead made his way, he was assaulted by more Cragspiders and had no choice but to slay them all.
The Chosen Undead kept this rhythm of slaying Cragspiders and advancing down the wooden platforms, until finally reaching the end. There were very few dirt patches that stood as footing, but other than that, most of the area was covered in swamp. The more the Chosen Undead stood in the swamp, the more he felt weak. It seemed that the swamp was sapping his energy, and if he stood any longer, he would surely find himself in a tough situation. The Chosen Undead hurriedly rolled his way to any nearby dirt holding while traversing among the swamp. The swamp made it hard to move, but if he rolled with enough strength, he could make a decent amount of distance. As the Chosen Undead rolled reverently in the swamp, he noticed a sort of shore in the distance. It was a large dirt mound that was surrounded by Infested Barbarians holding large rocks above their heads.
The Chosen Undead thought quickly, but not quickly enough before he began rolling towards the mound. As he got close enough, the Barbarians noticed and winded back to throw the boulders at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead managed to roll out of a few incoming rocks, but he let one slip, and had to stand in the swamp with his Shield out, in hopes to block the boulder coming to meet his face. The boulder crashed hard against the Shield and made the Chosen Undead fall to his feet. The Barbarians began racing down the swamp, which prompted the Chosen Undead to get up and roll towards the dirt shore. As he arrived, he began noticing that his vitality was getting weak, he was poisoned from the swamp. Ignoring his condition, he pressed on by climbing the dirt mound until he met the mouth of a cave. He entered it, leaving the overlarge Barbarians behind.
As the Chosen Undead caught his breath, he noticed that he was still poisoned. His health was draining at a steady rate. He noticed an exit out of this cave, but it lead to an area covered in silk and large bumps in the walls. Before pressing on, however, he needed to rest. The poison was doing its work, and the Chosen Undead was in no condition to fight. As the Chosen Undead was trying to find respite, and was about to drink an Estus, he noticed a figure. She was laying on the floor not too far from the exit of the small rest cave. She wore all black robes, and her face was drenched in black; in that there was no way anyone would be able to see her face. Her hands were emanating a bright red, however. She was Quelaana of Izalith. The Chosen Undead did not know whether she was acknowledging him. But she spoke anyway.
“Hmm. A mere Undead, yet you can see me? Fascinating. I am Quelaana of Izalith. I am not often revealed to walkers of flesh. You have a gift. Are you, too, one who seeks my pyromancy? Like Salaman.” The Chosen Undead nodded his head reluctantly. Although he was not one to seek such arcane powers, he had seen previously how well they fared when backed in a corner. Perhaps even he, who is so driven by his own strength can see some use in learning such old arts.
“Yes, of course. It should be expected. Very well. You shall be my pupil. But to purse my pyromancy, you must give something up. Are you prepared to do this?” The Chosen Undead nodded. The first pyromancy the Chosen Undead learned was Fire Whip.
Primal pyromancy taught by Quelaana of Izalith.
The root pyromancy of Combustion, but much more difficult to wield.
Without further instruction, Quelanna began speaking again.
“Long ago, I accepted another pupil, like yourself. Over two-hundred years ago, there was a man, almost as bungling as you, in your world he was called Salaman the Master Pyromancer. The little rascal really made something of himself.” The Chosen Undead thought hard, and wondered what pyromancy really was. If not the sorceries of Vinheim, or the miracles of the Clerics, than what was pyromancy? A subset of both of these things, or an art all on its own?
“Pyromancy is the art of invoking and manipulating fire. But remember one thing. Always fear the flame, lest you be devoured by it, and lose yourself. I would hate to see that happen again.” The Chosen Undead took those words to heart. Always fear the flame. The Chosen had one final inquiry and asked about Izalith.
“The Witch of Izalith? Please, do not speak of her. I abandoned my mother and sisters and fled to this land. Now I roam these parts, feigning ablution, and pretending to seek answers.” The Chosen Undead pried no further, and set his foot forward, his poison now but resided.
“Now, go. Whatever you do, do not crack and go Hollow. Lest my time spent on you be wasted.” The Chosen Undead looked forward, and stepped into the strange area he now found himself on. Except the strangest, must have been the creature at the end of the room waiting for his arrival.
Second Bell Of Awakening
As the Chosen Undead entered the area, he noticed what seemed to be giant eggs and silk surrounding the walls. The creature in front of him might have confirmed his suspicion. It was Chaos Witch Quelaag. Like many of the daughters of chaos, Quelaag has succumbed to a demonic alias. Although, her condition, is much better off than most of her siblings.
Quelaag’s entire lower torso had been malformed into a giant spider. It’s dark legs all fashioned a fang at the end, letting it grip onto most surfaces, and letting them be a dangerous weapon. Most of the spiders body was covered in flames, but it did not look the least bit in pain. On top of the spiders head, was Quelaag herself. Her upper body was not that of a demon, rather, that of a beautiful woman, if not for her demonic lower half, perhaps she could have lived a normal life. Although a Witch, her looks alone were more than enticing, maybe all the more fitting for a witch, perhaps? But that did not bother the Chosen Undead, after all, her left hand held her Furysword, which was completely engulfed in flames. The Chosen Undead had to writhe away the spiders body, as fighting the attached Quelaag herself might prove difficult. Although at hindsight they were two beings, Quelaag surely had complete control of her movements, and thus with the body of a spider had the upper hand in the battle.
Before making much distance, Quelaag jumped at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead rolled out of the way, as if not to get impaled by the spikes which adorned the spider’s legs. But the Chosen Undead was not given much room to breathe. Quelaag immediately used her Furysword to swipe at the Chosen Undead from above. The Chosen Undead rolled back to avoid the horizontal swipe, but was met by Quelaag’s quick stab; which the Chosen Undead met with his own block. Quelaag then moved herself closer and used one of her spider legs to stab the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead blocked, but due to the size and what he was dealing with, could not parry. Quelaag took this to her advantage as she used her sword and swung over the Chosen Undead, breaking his guard at last. Quelaag took advantage of his broken guard as she impaled the Chosen Undead with her Furysword.
She brought the Chosen Undead up before slamming him back into the ground. Of course with the way things are, she gave no time for recovery and no heed that her foe might have already been defeated. She brought her spider leg up and just as she was about to impale the Chosen Undead once more, the Chosen Undead rolled on the ground with a hair to spare and used his Sword to make distance. Quelaag jumped out of the way as well, giving the Chosen Undead time to drink an Estus and regain his posture. The Chosen Undead decided that staying shielded might be a problem. If she were to simply chain her strikes at the right time, without worry of parry, it would easily tire the Chosen Undead again leaving him vulnerable. He had to dodge correctly, and use her restrained upper body to his advantage. Quelaag jumped at the Chosen Undead, leaving him to roll out of the way, but, instead of chaining her next strike, she used her spiders mouth to spew lava. The spider’s mouth opened and a chain of lava began shooting at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead dodged in time, but the battle grounds were now stained with the lava. The Chosen Undead wasn’t too worried about the restriction of battle, but was more worried that getting hits in were going to be tough. However, he did notice that spewing that lava took quite a launch time. In other words, the Chosen Undead concluded that using her spider to shoot lava was probably the best time for the Chosen Undead to exploit that slowness. In fact, even when she uses her spider to poke at him, the Chosen Undead noted that the legs aren’t actually as quick as he thought they were. They were probably also pretty easy to break.
The Chosen Undead got into a decent distance and began tracking Quelaag as he waited for her next attack. Quelaag started off with her usual stride and jumped at the Chosen Undead. The Chosen Undead rolled, and then waited for her next strike, which was made by her spiders leg. The Chosen Undead saw his chance. As the leg missed the Chosen Undead, he immediately followed up with a cut. The Sword peeled off a bit of flesh, but not enough. Quelaag turned her body and swiped at the Chosen Undead, which was met with a roll. The Chosen Undead stayed relatively near Quelaag.
As Quelaag jumped back to gain distance and perched her spiders head forward, the Chosen Undead made sure he was ready. Just as he noticed that the spiders mouth opened, he made a sprint through the right to reach the spider. He looked back to see the spider’s missed lava spew on the ground, and as he got close, cleaved another chunk of flesh off of the spider’s leg. Quelaag attempted to turn her body, but the Chosen Undead answered by using all of his strength into one forceful cleave. His Sword struck deep into the spiders leg, which crippled it and forced it to stop. The leg was forced on its knee and the Chosen Undead used this to his advantage. The Chosen Undead stabbed his Sword into the body of the spider, and twisted it. He could hear Quelaag and the spiders cries, but ignored it. As the Chosen Undead dragged his sword out of the spiders body, Quelaag responded by jumping back. There was quite a bit of distance, and as the spider wounded up for another long range lava shot, the Chosen Undead cut to his left and ran for the legs. This time however, Quelaag aimed in front of her, and left a pool of lava between them. The Chosen Undead couldn’t tell which way the shot was going to be, and was left with a pool of lava between them.
As the Chosen Undead doubled around the lava, he noticed that Quelaag’s body was slumped over. The Chosen Undead thought nothing of it and simply went up to disable her left leg. But just before he could get a hit in, Quelaag suddenly shot up, and the body of the spider responded aptly. Without warning, the Chosen Undead was suddenly shot back as he noticed particles of red expounding in the air. The Chosen Undead took quite a hit from that spell, and as he got up, noticed a scurrying Quelaag about to stab him with her Furysword. The Chosen Undead managed to dodge a close call, but was pretty weak from the last explosion. As Quelaag raised her Furysword once again, the Chosen Undead had no choice but to try a last ditch strategy. The Chosen Undead’s right hand began emanating as he began channeling his energy. He could get something out, but it may not be that effective against a being that dwelled within the flames themselves. Just as Quelaag’s Furysword came down onto the Chosen Undead, he raised his hand and erupted a pillar of flame from his hand. It was Fire Whip. He used it in a roundabout way and deflected the oncoming sword. That was but all he could muster though, and the flames subsided quite quickly, which gave him enough time to take advantage of the situation. Just as Quelaag brought her sword down again to strike the Chosen Undead, the Chosen Undead rolled under the sword, and was placed in a position between the legs and body of the spider. The Chosen Undead then raised his Sword and pierced it right into the side of the spider. As Quelaag moved back against the pain, the Chosen Undead took this chance to drink an Estus, with his Sword still lodged into the spider.
Quelaag used her spiders leg to push back the Chosen Undead as he was drinking, rendering some of the effect useless. But nevertheless, the Chosen Undead had a plan up his sleeve. The Sword now stuck inside of Quelaag’s spider body was going to be a problem for her, and it seems that getting it out was hard considering her position. But nevertheless, Quelaag used her spider head to shoot a pool of lava in front of her, and bent over to grab the Sword lodged inside of her. The Chosen Undead used this as a chance to enact his plan. The Chosen Undead rushed over, around the pool of lava, which restricted him quite a bit, but nonetheless, made it to Quelaag as she was handling the Sword inside of her. Just as Quelaag pulled out the Sword and discarded it on the ground, the Chosen Undead used his free right hand and conjured a pillar of flame. The Chosen Undead then aimed his Fire Whip at the human body of Queelaag, as she was not armored and was extremely exposed. However as the Whip came to her body, she used her Furysword to expunge most of the flames. As this was happening, the Chosen Undead rolled forward and grabbed his Sword. Quelaag used her upper body to reach over to her side to swipe at the Chosen Undead, but was met with his Shield. As soon as the block came into contact, the Chosen Undead immediately came out of stance and took a slice at Quelaag’s human arm. As he thought, Quelaag’s human form didn’t have the same strength as her spider half. As the cut left Quelaag’s arm more than immobile, the Chosen Undead decided to finish it.
The Chosen Undead drove his Sword through the spider half of Quelaag once again, and as the spider body of Quelaag fell to its knees, he lifted his Sword, and forced it through the human Quelaag. The Chosen Undead didn’t think much of it, but as Quelaag was quivering over the sword that had found its way through her bare body, she looked at the Chosen Undead; a face of regret, perhaps even anger washed over her face. And before he knew it, Quelaag fell. Her Furysword’s fire was extinguished, and all that was left was her Soul.
*Soul of Quelaag*
Soul of Quelaag, once daughter of the Witch of Izalith, but now a chaos demon.
Special beings have special souls, and Quelaag’s soul contains all aspects of Chaos.
As the Chosen Undead defeated Quelaag, he noticed a set of stairs. After climbing them, he entered what seemed to be a tower of sorts. Eggs and silk still astounded the walls, but upon further venture, he noticed a lever, and a bell that hung above his head. The Chosen Undead walked over to the lever and pulled it back, which caused the bell to swing back and forth and exuberate a loud ringing. Both Bells of Awakening have now been rung. The Chosen Undead decided to head back to Firelink Shrine, and see to his exploits.