bigish update, and the end of the undead asylum.
We made our way back up the stairs, my cohort leading the way. Noting that there was no hollow waiting at the top of the second flight, I made a mental note to be wary of the one I dispatched near our bonfire. Once more I had to remind myself that the game mechanic of 'all enemies except bosses (and certain mini bosses) respawn when a bonfire was used' was likely just that; a mechanic of a game. That thought didn't comfort me. In fact? It made the spot between my shoulder blades itch. Predictable enemy locations were one thing, as was knowing when they would be back. My current situation meant that everything I killed that had a darksign would re-animate at an unspecified point in the future, regardless of where I was, or where it fell. I wanted to break down and cry, but at this point I couldn't afford to undermine what Oscar thought of me.
Ah, yes. Our introductions had been brief, with him giving a bit of his reason of being here, which I didn't really pay attention to. I had more important things to focus on, notably my own backstory. I could hardly tell him truthfully about myself, and different places have different naming conventions. My name, though not unusual for my universe, would be rather peculiar here. I cooked up a bit of a sob story of how I was either abandoned, or orphaned shortly after birth and was bounced around between caravans. My arrival at the undead asylum was a result of an Undead being discovered in our midst at the authorities of the town we were restocking in, and had all of us sent there in fear we were all cursed. Nobody in the caravan had cared to come up with a name for me, and just called me 'Boy' or 'Nuisance'. He seemed to buy-
Right. Current situation. Digressing just a bit much. I halted him at the top of the first flight, and made a hushing gesture. Briefly listening, I heard a rasping echo. That reminded me of the bow hallow in the hallway after the first encounter with the Asylum Demon. It was possible that that was where we were going, and after a bit of rather quiet inquiry, he confirmed it.
"Down that hallway," he said. "One of the others I was traveling with…" his voice cracked slightly.
"You need a minute?" it came out a bit drier then I had intended, and I hoped he missed it.
His baleful glare (Seriously, I could feel It.) told me otherwise. "No," he said shortly, "and despite my debt to you, you would do well not to speak lightly of my loss."
I nodded "Duly noted." I paused "Yet you would do well not to grieve in a combat zone." A thought struck me "I suspect, however, that you could tell me the dangers of that far better than I could speculate…" if I was right, the grieving is what got is ass borderline killed.
He started, then sighed "You 're right, Gwyn knows I wish you weren't." his next words were a bit more rueful "Your offense was just to break me out of that slump, wasn't it."
It wasn't, it was just me being a prick, but I nodded sagely. "Sometimes callousness can be kinder than tact."
After that I left him in the chamber briefly. Just long enough for me to creep up behind a certain bow wielding walking corpse without his armour jingling in warning.
"go'cha" I growled at it.
I snaked my hand under its armpit, and grabbed the back of its head. The thing struggled like it was possessed (which it kinda was) and I realized that perhaps my debilitation from living off rats and moss was likely worse than I had thought as it was. Still, I had enough time to stab that broken sword through it several times which then caused the struggles to stop.
Ok, dead zombie, "It's dead," I called back. "I snuck up on the hollow without a hitch." A few seconds later, Oscar came jingling in.
"My sword brother is over there" he gestured towards where I vaguely remembered where you picked up you class shield in game.
Saying it wasn't a pretty sight, would be like saying the sun is hot. Correct as far as things go, but a woefully sad understatement.
The first arrow went into the side of the knee, probably crippling him for the rest of his incredibly short life. Another dozen or so littered the ground, and the plate parts of the armour were somewhat dented. The killing blow was either one of two things. Either it was one of the four arrows that were shot at point blank range into the helmet (it would have to be point blank to pierce plate) embedding themselves deep into poor bastards head, or it was the heavy impact that smashed the torso of the man flat.
Grizzly as it was however, the armor; identical to what Oscar was wearing, was doing fairly alright. It could use a blacksmith, but in the meantime it was much better then cotton, polar fleece, and the denim shell of my pants.
"While… while I divest my former comrade of his armour, could you take some time and look around?" He asked. "Take some time… I would-" he took a moment to steady himself, "I would like to give him a brief benediction."
I nodded. "Do what you have to do, just keep an ear open." I looked at the wrecked body "I don't think a bonfire could bring -anybody- back from that."
"Indeed." He murmured grimly. "I'll pay attention"
Satisfied that he was going to be careful, I traveled back into the 'stair room' as I had begun to think of it, and began my search. Rocks, a few chains well and truly stuck to the wall, that big ass metal ball that busted a hole in the side of the room I found Oscar in, and a broken staircase that couldn't be climbed in game. This was no game however, and I was able to crawl my way up it with some difficulty.
"Shit." I panted to myself "I either need some cardio… which I do, or I'm really effing debilitated." Which was also true, but I wasn't exactly in any position to do anything about that.
Still, it wasn't in vain. At the top was a truly desiccated body, and with a little looting, I found a rusted ring, which I pocketed, and a key with all the teeth filed off of it. I pocketed the key too. If someone felt that the labor required to craft it was worth it, who was I to argue?
Having basically exhausted my options here, I made my way back to Oscar, picking through the rubble of each room on my way over. Not even some potentially edible greenery. He was finished by this point, his dead sword brother buried was well as he could contrive, the armour set aside.
"You have a choice of weapons" he said softly "Elliot favored blades imported from the East, yet he carried his standard issue short sword for tight quarters."
I hefted the Eastern blade. It was surprisingly light, yet as I tested it felt somewhat awkward, almost like the blade was heavier than it should be. My guess was that the balance was deliberate, and it would take someone stronger than me to keep control of it. And that's ignoring the hand eye coordination needed to maximise its effectiveness. I set the blade on the makeshift grave, and lifted the short sword. Light, solid, good point and small enough I could use it effectively in tight quarters. Nothing special, but it felt good in my hand.
"Standard issue is usually standard issue for a reason" I said philosophically, and grabbed the sword belt and sheath. "What's the situation on the armour?"
"The boots are unlikely to fit, and you seem to have adequate pants." He cleared his throat "the helms steel was rotted, which was why the arrows pierced it."
I grimaced, "Any other good news?"
He nodded "Oh yes," he said, tone dust dry "The straps that hold the fauld torn by the impact, and the gloves have had the metal bands in them bent to the extent that they are impossible to wear." A brief chuckle, "If we had a blacksmith, everything but the helm could be repaired or fitted."
So, basically, the only thing that was good was the torso armour, and the sword belt. Shit. "What's the condition of the shield?"
"Scuffed, but serviceable."
The shield was a good solid heater. This one had straps meant to secure it to my arm, useful since that meant I could still grip my sword for two handed strikes if need be. In hind sight, the late Elliot probably used two handed strikes with his favored blade, and had his shield custom fitted with that in mind. Not that I minded.
We got me fully equipped (a significant production), then returned to the Stair Room.
"How do you guys wear this stuff?" I asked, shifting my shoulders. Damn Itch just would not go away.
"With training," He murmured sympathetically, "And I suspect that it feels heavier than it is due to your current state.
Fair enough. We climbed the tallest flight, and Oscar used a key to open the door at the top, and then twitched in dismay.
Getting up where I could see, I saw why. Another body cratered in the right parapet, this one female.
"Our guide" Oscar whispered sadly "A pyromancer hailing from the great swamp. She knew the roads to Lordran."
We didn't exactly have time to brood as a duo of Hollows came clattering around the corner. Oscar parried the firsts haphazard swing, then delivered a professional stab through the guts, I sidestepped the seconds downwards swing, and backhanded it in the face with my shield. I followed up by then punching my own blade through its chest. It jerked and clutched at the blade, the glowing lights it had in place of eyes dimmed, and I finished the job with a twist of the short sword.
When I turned Oscar had already rounded the corner, and another hissing rattle told me he just dispatched a third.
Once he returned he faced me, sighed, then turned back around to continue scouting up ahead "…Be respectful." He tossed behind him.
Nodding despite him not looking at me, I began my grisly duty.
I found the ashes that I assumed had once been her pyromancy flame, a busted hand axe, and a locket. I took off one of her manchette, and tried it on. It fit, so I striped off my shield, and put the other one on as well. They were surprisingly comfortable. I undid the belt holding her pouches and supplies and picked through them. Very little of use was in them, but she had a quiver full of bolts, an empty estus flask, and I found her light crossbow nearby beneath some rubble. It was a bit battered, but a quick pull showed that it was functional. Further inspection of her yielded a kind of back holster for it that I happily appropriated. Ah hell, why not? I belted the pouches on as well. Never know when I'm going to need some more storage room.
I flinched as I heard a heavy thump next to me. Twisting around, I saw a pair of heavy boots.
"Try them on" Oscar stated "I think that they will fit, but I can't be sure."
They did fit. Not perfect, but well within what I was used to. They were scuffed from hard use, but much more durable then my runners. I tactfully didn't ask where they came from, mostly because the answer was likely the same as all the rest of my gear.
"I also found a chain long enough to get down there" he pointed over the parapet "She probably found it, and was in the process of tying it when the demon found her."
"The lets finish the job before It finds us." I said shortly.
Oscar noded, and went about tying our makeshift rope. The loop at the end had a crude weld in it that looked quite sturdy, so he looped the chain around several bars and threaded it through the eye.
"She must have used her pyromancy to fuse the chains end to end to make it long enough." Oscar marveled, and suddenly I found myself wishing that it was her I rescued from the brink. Oscar was a nice guy, and he very obviously had a ton of martial experience, but this dead woman was crafty. And likely a damn sight nicer to look at then my faceless friend.
We managed to get down the ladder before everything went to hell. I should have known it would. That unreachable spot between my shoulder blades was itching so bad it felt like it was on fire.
We made it almost to the first broken wall of the cliff, looking for a way down when we heard an inhuman bellow.
We turned as one to watch that hulking monstrosity slam into the ground. Oscar swore, and I just had the thought run through my head that fat ass needed to lay off the trough of hot fudge. Then it began to charge us, and all humor I may have felt vanished before a choking tide of terror. We ran like terrified rabbits, because there was no way that our toothpicks could sufficiently damage that seven meter tall monstrosity. Oscar looked up, and obviously saw something that drove him mad, because he ran toward that edge faster, and leaped off of it. I, still having my facilities in tact, stopped short.
Just in time for the Asylum demon to slam that massive club into me, and hurl me off anyway. My world was pain. My last moments were seeing the ground speeding towards me, and black feathers whipping around me, and wind shrieking in my ears, yet I was in too much pain to really register anything.
Once I hit the ground though, the pain stopped. Just like everything else.
^*^
So, yeah. This is basicaly the end of chapter one. I'll probably splice everything together and post it to Fanfiction.net sometime tomorrow. Just to avoid needing to archive all my posts. Probably going to need to do some formating, error correction, and other stuff, but i'm to damn tired tonight. I just want this posted.
What good would that do?
