I open my eyes. I blink.
Awareness spreads. The smell of rotting meat. Spoiled blood and a chemical-y smell. Piles of gravestones and patches of flowers, golden blossoms shimmering with the breeze.
'What the hell?'
Chest expanding, heart beginning to pound rapidly, testing each new limb as shock and raw confusion warred in my mind. Wrongwrongwrong, too many limbs. I swallow with a dry throat as I lower my eyes to my hands. I exhale a weak, shuddering sigh at the sight.
The left hand is the gauntlet of a knight, embellishments upon the metal and golden trim apparent, even if it had clearly seen better days.
The right… Four fingers bare, and two more armored. It had clearly been made from at least two different hands, pale skin mixing with a rougher, more stone-like skin palate as the two palms joined. What made it more obvious was the size of the inhuman fingers of my hand, thick as two of my human ones. The gauntlet fragments on my index and thumb matched my left hand's, I noted in near hysterics.
The forearm was a mix of thick, cracked golden armor, misshapen flesh and scraps of clothing, all twice as large as my left for reasons I can guess. Closing my eyes was almost a blessing to the horror of what very well be my new life.
Panic still bubbled in my chest, but after a dozen- two dozen calming breaths I was free to think.
'So... Isekai. Not a nice fantasy world either from the looks of things. I am a horrid monstrosity, luckily with my mental facilities intact. First things first-'
I open my eyes again. Gravestones and flowers, a paved street. A cathedral looking building in front of me, and -I twisted around- …and promptly felt my heart seizing up in fright.
'At least I know where the rotting smell is coming from.' is what I would like to have said, calmly and with maximum grace. The actual reaction sounded more like smashing a keyboard, repeatedly. Gurgling, as the inner monkey screamed.
The limp, fetid corpse was impaled on one of the monuments lining the paving, its position making it as if the foul visage was leering down at me, waiting for the opportunity to take off my head.
As hind-brain fear began to subside, something sparked within me. Growing, a suspicion, a certainty.
A courtyard. Golden flowers, gravestones and the rotting corpse of a dragon. I turn around more. My eyes caught the shine of gold on the pavement, and with it I gained another piece of evidence, reinforcement, of the reality of where I am, and more importantly, who.
A battleaxe, too thick, too heavy for a mortal man to wield. Gilded artistry is wrought upon the blade and a proud, roaring lion shone brightly upon the metalwork. How much did this even cost- getting off track. It is laying on the ground, as if its owner had just dropped it, which he, I, did.
My hand secured its grasp around the hilt and lifted it, still heavy but not as bad as another would have it. I wiggle the noble weapon, watching the light dance on the well-maintained edge.
…For all his cowardice, his arrogance, his sheer desperation to achieve any amount of glory, possible or not… Godrick sure loved his axe to bits.
It is very shiny I must say.
I let loose a breath. Butterflies danced in my stomach, as I began to walk towards the steps of the cathedral, stumbling initially but quickly growing, not used to, but acquainted with the new gait of Godrick's body (oh hello Dysphoria, meet Body Horror.).
Better be at least some bloody honey in this crap-sack of keep, I need fucking comfort food. Eating half the fridge was possible even before this body, and Godrick isn't exactly a monk, so he has some snacks somewhere. Somewhere.
Wait.
"Shit." Shit. I don't know where to go. This is bad, I better-no wait I can just ask a servant! Crisis averted, and with renewed gusto my steps echoed down the corridor.
So. Elden Ring. Hell of a game, awesome bosses, killer art direction. The world of The Lands Between lay outside these walls, full of monsters and superhuman warriors, with the Erdtree standing sentinel to all that occurs within its dying light.
Dying Gods, Dying Age. Same as any of the other Fromsoft games, with humanity clinging to the chains that have grown so very comfortable, and bad decisions made by hard men or madmen, who believed that they would be heroes, exacerbating the already terrible situation.
I… won't be able to stand much of a chance against most of it. I am no warrior. May as well get that out of the way. I have no idea how to use this axe other than to go at someone like they are Granny Wolf, and even if I wanted to, I cannot become Elden Lord. Ever. Both because I would never realistically ever beat all of my… cousins? Uncles and aunts? They were never clear on how far Godrick falls down the family tree.
But anyway, the other reason is that this world deserves better. Better than the Lineage's members, pitiful and broken, better than the Fingers, Greater Will, Formless Mother and whatever higher being Dung Eater worships. It deserves… The Tarnished. The one who will do away with the old order of the world, careless of consequences, a force of nature that will blaze forth to make a new world.
Ranni has the best ending, so I may as well help her by pushing The Tarnished her way at the start. Fuck the Outer Gods, the Doll-waifu has never lead anyone astray.
Oooh, Grace. So this is what it is like.
I ducked under the doorway, looming over the Secluded Cell Grace. A small cloud of golden light floating over the bundle of roots, that have persisted even with no soil nor watering within the dusty storage room. Strange, but the ripples are what really interests me.
Like mirages without warmth, echoes throughout the fabric of reality. Nodes of the Erdtree's power that affect space and time, returning the dead back to life without want for compensation. Except when it doesn't.
Well, what they don't know can't hurt them. Actually nevermind. So many people are in so much pain right now because of that damn weed. Heresy? Psssh, they don't know nothing.
I move away from the Lost Grace and instead approach the sacks. Picking one up with one hand and lightly tossing it a few times, I marvel at this form's strength, even inferior as it is to the rest of the Lineage.
Given the loose grains falling from the holes, I would say that this is indeed grain. I furrowed my brow. But why? Why is the grain here, instead of a silo or pantry or something? Unsanitary as all hell, for sure.
If there is grain, there is flour. Flour equals bread, I nodded seriously. Food.
I placed the sack back with its comrades and prepared for my greatest challenge yet in this world; Asking for help. But it is for a good cause!
I nodded seriously.
Food.
