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Blue Ash (Dark Souls III/PMMM)
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Road of Sacrifices 3: A Poor (And Revolting) Showing
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"What's that over there?" You ask, squinting your eyes to try and make out more beyond the vague notion of metallic glint.
"Looks to me like somebody fell, and didn't get back up." He says, before turning to examine the general area. "And I don't see anything that makes it look like an ambush."
"So it's safe?"
"I hesitate to call anything 'safe' nowadays, but it's probably about as close to safe corpse looting as you could expect." He concludes.
You pause as you realize that, by this point, that practice had basically become normalized in your mind. Ever since you first found the Estus Flasks back when you woke up, it's sort of become just something that you've kept on doing, especially since Hawkwood never seemed to have any sort of issue with it.
"Hey." Hawkwood says, looking at you. "Don't start feeling bad about it now. If whatever junk they have on them might be useful, may as well take it, right?"
You swallow, trying to quell the mixture of guilt and shame with the cold, honest pragmatism that your situation demands.
Hawkwood sighs. "I meant that as a joke, I didn't realize it'd actually..." He pauses, looking at your face, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, do you want me to go grab it?" He offers, probably hoping that it'd make you feel less bad.
"No, it's... alright." You say, before heading down the cliffside path. You know, obviously, that it's wrong to just steal things from people's bodies, but you've been doing it anyway because you don't have any other real choice with the situation you've been thrust into. Or is that what you've just been telling yourself?
But isn't what you're doing supposed to help everyone else? Do your good intentions outweigh your bad actions? All of this is, quite frankly, way too complex for you to even hope to unravel. Maybe if you'd taken that ethics elective when you had the chance instead of music theory, you could figure it out, although you doubt a middle school ethics course would be touching on stuff that deep. Instead, you'll just have to keep living with the guilt in the back of your mind.
Hawkwood looks at you funny, before he joins you. You're barely halfway down to the lower level before you're interrupted by a mad cackle. Sprinting out from behind the corner comes a half-naked woman with a massive knife.
With a scream, her blade swings down on you. In a panic, you raise your hand and a red aura shimmers into existence, letting you push it away just in in time before it carves into you, and likely right through you judging by the sheer weight of the thing. Calling it a knife barely fits the huge weapon. It's more like an upscaled meat cleaver.
Hawkwood freezes up for a moment when he sees what you're doing, but seems to realize that there's a much more important matter to deal with before worrying about anything else. While he isn't able to draw his own weapon in time to swing it, he instead backs you up, and with the added strength you manage to throw the madwoman off of you.
Only for her to throw a bunch of brown stuff at you, which hits you full-on in the face... which smells like...
Is this... did she just...
You barely react before her blade comes swinging wildly for your neck from the right. Luckily for you, the height difference between you and Hawkwood comes in handy, as your gagging causes you to duck out of reflex, which gives him enough room.
Hawkwood parries the hit with his own sword, having had just barely enough time to draw it. With a surprising show of strength, he manages to force her blade back and throw her off balance. The woman stumbles, trying to regain her footing, but the weight of her weapon works against her and drags her down. Or at least that's what you assume. You aren't exactly looking right now. Instead, you're dealing with the fact that some crazy lady just threw poop in your face.
There's probably something else mixed in there as well, because your skin starts to sting and swell up. Oh god, you really don't want to have to touch this stuff... oh wait, you don't have to. You let your transformation fade off before switching back, letting however it works clean you off for you without you having to worry about it yourself.
You open your (now thankfully clear) eyes to see Hawkwood gripping his cape, about to tear a piece of it off, relief filling his clearly worried face as he sees you looking back. You can't tell which he's more relieved about.
"Oh thank the Flame." He mutters.
"Who throws poop at people?!" You shout at nobody in particular. "What... why would you even..." You groan in disgust, as the swelling on your face fades away entirely.
"I've seen a lot of things in my time, but that's a first for me as well."
"I'd hope so! If you told me that this was a common thing, I'd probably give up right here." You grumble, walking towards the body on the other side.
Hawkwood stares at you for a moment, clearly considering something, before he opens his mouth to say it, reconsiders, and shuts it before speaking. He quickly follows behind you.
You examine the body, which lies desiccated on the ground, covered in old leather and wrapped in aged cloth that you have no interest in touching. Most notable are the chunks of meat just... removed entirely from the body, which if it weren't so withered away you can only imagine the disgusting mess that would entail. The implications are horrific enough on their own.
"Probably some brigand, by the look of things." Hawkwood says, eyeing the corpse carefully.
"Was she... eating them?" You ask, horrified at the idea. You knew you had to deal with the slime cannibal, but the idea that there are more of them around here isn't exactly an encouraging thought.
"Looks like it." Hawkwood says, revulsion clear in his voice.
"How come she didn't melt into slime like that other guy?" You ask, because, seriously, how does that even work?
"Not enough bodies?" Hawkwood guesses with a shrug. "It may have had more to do with Aldritch than specifically cannibalism, but I'm not exactly an expert on the subject."
"Unlike with flying lizards?" You ask.
"Or being repeatedly mutilated." He shoots back. The fact that it gets a small smile out of you is probably a bit worrying.
Looking over the body, and trying to avoid the dried-out gore, you spot two hilts in the corpse's sides. You pull them out to take a closer look, finding two thick, curved daggers, alongside a strange looking book. To your surprise, the daggers both vanish into nothingness with a thought, leaving you holding nothing.
"Guess that works on blades in general." Hawkwood muses as he watches you take the only thing of value on the body.
"It really does feel a bit random though." You reply, thinking. Your wish had to do with healing. What does healing have to do with swords, let alone storing them? And it apparently works on blades in general, but not other things? Then again, does the wish actually tie into the weapon? Mami never said what her wish was, but she had muskets of all things. Kyoko had a spear, so maybe that had something to do with religious mumbojumbo? It's not like you know much about Christianity, and you doubt you're going to be learning much about it here.
Seeing as you can stitch yourself back together after having your body sliced apart, I feel like making swords appear and disappear of all things shouldn't be what you're concerned about."
"Hey, two things can be weird at the same time, you know." You say with a half-hearted glare.
"Seeing as they came together, maybe there's a connection? I mean, is there really that much of a difference between growing a new arm and spawning a sword? If anything, the first is probably a lot more difficult."
Hawkwood awaits your inevitable response, before he turns to see you staring at him wide-eyed. There's no way the two could be related, right? Could they be? It's not like you have any way of confirming for yourself; Kyubey never gave you an instruction manual after all, and considering their "teaching" style, it's something you should probably be thankful for.
"Uh, Sayaka, are you...?"
"Sorry, I just wasn't sure if you said something really insightful, or just stupid." You reply, earning yourself a snort of amusement from the man. Truthfully, you have no idea if what he's saying is even remotely correct. You doubt that you're going to suddenly learn how to summon bombs or anything, but maybe there was more to the situation than it first appeared. Well, that much became obvious when you turned into a witch, but what exactly WAS Kyubey anyhow? And is it connected with any of the nonsense here?
All of this is just too confusing for you to deal with right now, so instead you take a closer look at the book that you'd stumbled across as well.
"Huh, there's no writing." You say as you flip through the pages. Instead of text, you just see a bunch of random bumps on the page. Wait, isn't this...
"I think that's a Divine Tome. They're usually written in braille." Hawkwood explains, as if it was perfectly normal. Which it was, but the fact that it was somewhat normal is what actually made it strange here.
"You guys have braille around here?" You can't help but ask, now confused for an entirely different reason.
"Do you not?"
"No, we do, it's just... ugh, forget it." You say, putting the book away in your bag, before you remember that you had just been asked to find one of these a short while ago. Huh, it feels like it's been a long time, and you aren't sure why. Well, you're sure Irina'll be happy once you give her this.
"Shall we get going?" He asks, eyeing the cliff worriedly. "We shouldn't be staying down here for too long."
"Yeah, let's go." You say, earning yourself a nod as the two of you trek back up the cliffside. It's only a short distance until you reach what looks like the entrance to a stone fortress. Two of the bird people seem to be sitting off to the sides, unaware of your approach, and if you have the option to, you'll just let that continue being the case. As you cross an old stone bridge, however, you hear the sound of footsteps. A lot of footsteps. Turning around, a large crowd of the bird people practically pour out of the woodworks, their voices little more than guttural groaning. Before you know it, you and Hawkwood quickly realize that you're surrounded.
As you and Hawkwood get ready for the onslaught, however, something strange happens. Or rather, nothing happens. The bird people don't mindlessly charge you and attack on sight, but remain somewhat cowed, their wings not yet sprouted, as they glare at you from a distance. From the assembled crowd in front of you emerges an aged figure, even amongst the group of what look more like corpses than people. Its back is hunched by age and time, yet it tries to carry itself with some measure of respect nonetheless. Unlike its fellows, it wears its wings openly, yet it relies on the strange staff it grips to remain upright.
"Travelers," The creature croaks out, its voice hoarse and dusty, "you have harmed our kindred. We wish to know why."
[ ] Sayaka's Excuse: We were attacked first, and it was self defense. Maybe we should try and apologize?
[ ] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
[ ] Well, violence IS an option, although you aren't sure that you really want to...
[ ] Write in
Author's Note: Sat on this for several months, because I couldn't decide whether or not to keep the end portion of this post or just scrap it all together. In all honesty I really should have just sucked it up and made a decision, but that's never exactly been a strong suit of mine.
"Looks to me like somebody fell, and didn't get back up." He says, before turning to examine the general area. "And I don't see anything that makes it look like an ambush."
"So it's safe?"
"I hesitate to call anything 'safe' nowadays, but it's probably about as close to safe corpse looting as you could expect." He concludes.
You pause as you realize that, by this point, that practice had basically become normalized in your mind. Ever since you first found the Estus Flasks back when you woke up, it's sort of become just something that you've kept on doing, especially since Hawkwood never seemed to have any sort of issue with it.
"Hey." Hawkwood says, looking at you. "Don't start feeling bad about it now. If whatever junk they have on them might be useful, may as well take it, right?"
You swallow, trying to quell the mixture of guilt and shame with the cold, honest pragmatism that your situation demands.
Hawkwood sighs. "I meant that as a joke, I didn't realize it'd actually..." He pauses, looking at your face, clearly uncomfortable. "Look, do you want me to go grab it?" He offers, probably hoping that it'd make you feel less bad.
"No, it's... alright." You say, before heading down the cliffside path. You know, obviously, that it's wrong to just steal things from people's bodies, but you've been doing it anyway because you don't have any other real choice with the situation you've been thrust into. Or is that what you've just been telling yourself?
But isn't what you're doing supposed to help everyone else? Do your good intentions outweigh your bad actions? All of this is, quite frankly, way too complex for you to even hope to unravel. Maybe if you'd taken that ethics elective when you had the chance instead of music theory, you could figure it out, although you doubt a middle school ethics course would be touching on stuff that deep. Instead, you'll just have to keep living with the guilt in the back of your mind.
Hawkwood looks at you funny, before he joins you. You're barely halfway down to the lower level before you're interrupted by a mad cackle. Sprinting out from behind the corner comes a half-naked woman with a massive knife.
85 vs 89
66 vs 39
66 vs 39
With a scream, her blade swings down on you. In a panic, you raise your hand and a red aura shimmers into existence, letting you push it away just in in time before it carves into you, and likely right through you judging by the sheer weight of the thing. Calling it a knife barely fits the huge weapon. It's more like an upscaled meat cleaver.
Hawkwood freezes up for a moment when he sees what you're doing, but seems to realize that there's a much more important matter to deal with before worrying about anything else. While he isn't able to draw his own weapon in time to swing it, he instead backs you up, and with the added strength you manage to throw the madwoman off of you.
9 vs 22
83 vs 9
83 vs 9
Only for her to throw a bunch of brown stuff at you, which hits you full-on in the face... which smells like...
Is this... did she just...
You barely react before her blade comes swinging wildly for your neck from the right. Luckily for you, the height difference between you and Hawkwood comes in handy, as your gagging causes you to duck out of reflex, which gives him enough room.
Hawkwood parries the hit with his own sword, having had just barely enough time to draw it. With a surprising show of strength, he manages to force her blade back and throw her off balance. The woman stumbles, trying to regain her footing, but the weight of her weapon works against her and drags her down. Or at least that's what you assume. You aren't exactly looking right now. Instead, you're dealing with the fact that some crazy lady just threw poop in your face.
There's probably something else mixed in there as well, because your skin starts to sting and swell up. Oh god, you really don't want to have to touch this stuff... oh wait, you don't have to. You let your transformation fade off before switching back, letting however it works clean you off for you without you having to worry about it yourself.
You open your (now thankfully clear) eyes to see Hawkwood gripping his cape, about to tear a piece of it off, relief filling his clearly worried face as he sees you looking back. You can't tell which he's more relieved about.
"Oh thank the Flame." He mutters.
"Who throws poop at people?!" You shout at nobody in particular. "What... why would you even..." You groan in disgust, as the swelling on your face fades away entirely.
[+25 Corruption]
"I've seen a lot of things in my time, but that's a first for me as well."
"I'd hope so! If you told me that this was a common thing, I'd probably give up right here." You grumble, walking towards the body on the other side.
Hawkwood stares at you for a moment, clearly considering something, before he opens his mouth to say it, reconsiders, and shuts it before speaking. He quickly follows behind you.
You examine the body, which lies desiccated on the ground, covered in old leather and wrapped in aged cloth that you have no interest in touching. Most notable are the chunks of meat just... removed entirely from the body, which if it weren't so withered away you can only imagine the disgusting mess that would entail. The implications are horrific enough on their own.
"Probably some brigand, by the look of things." Hawkwood says, eyeing the corpse carefully.
"Was she... eating them?" You ask, horrified at the idea. You knew you had to deal with the slime cannibal, but the idea that there are more of them around here isn't exactly an encouraging thought.
"Looks like it." Hawkwood says, revulsion clear in his voice.
"How come she didn't melt into slime like that other guy?" You ask, because, seriously, how does that even work?
"Not enough bodies?" Hawkwood guesses with a shrug. "It may have had more to do with Aldritch than specifically cannibalism, but I'm not exactly an expert on the subject."
"Unlike with flying lizards?" You ask.
"Or being repeatedly mutilated." He shoots back. The fact that it gets a small smile out of you is probably a bit worrying.
Looking over the body, and trying to avoid the dried-out gore, you spot two hilts in the corpse's sides. You pull them out to take a closer look, finding two thick, curved daggers, alongside a strange looking book. To your surprise, the daggers both vanish into nothingness with a thought, leaving you holding nothing.
These paired daggers are the preferred weapons of the brigands of a distant land.
To be a brigand is to live with the knowledge that one's own survival is what matters most. In desperate times, even the most honest of men might turn to such a life.
To be a brigand is to live with the knowledge that one's own survival is what matters most. In desperate times, even the most honest of men might turn to such a life.
"Guess that works on blades in general." Hawkwood muses as he watches you take the only thing of value on the body.
"It really does feel a bit random though." You reply, thinking. Your wish had to do with healing. What does healing have to do with swords, let alone storing them? And it apparently works on blades in general, but not other things? Then again, does the wish actually tie into the weapon? Mami never said what her wish was, but she had muskets of all things. Kyoko had a spear, so maybe that had something to do with religious mumbojumbo? It's not like you know much about Christianity, and you doubt you're going to be learning much about it here.
Seeing as you can stitch yourself back together after having your body sliced apart, I feel like making swords appear and disappear of all things shouldn't be what you're concerned about."
"Hey, two things can be weird at the same time, you know." You say with a half-hearted glare.
"Seeing as they came together, maybe there's a connection? I mean, is there really that much of a difference between growing a new arm and spawning a sword? If anything, the first is probably a lot more difficult."
Hawkwood awaits your inevitable response, before he turns to see you staring at him wide-eyed. There's no way the two could be related, right? Could they be? It's not like you have any way of confirming for yourself; Kyubey never gave you an instruction manual after all, and considering their "teaching" style, it's something you should probably be thankful for.
"Uh, Sayaka, are you...?"
"Sorry, I just wasn't sure if you said something really insightful, or just stupid." You reply, earning yourself a snort of amusement from the man. Truthfully, you have no idea if what he's saying is even remotely correct. You doubt that you're going to suddenly learn how to summon bombs or anything, but maybe there was more to the situation than it first appeared. Well, that much became obvious when you turned into a witch, but what exactly WAS Kyubey anyhow? And is it connected with any of the nonsense here?
All of this is just too confusing for you to deal with right now, so instead you take a closer look at the book that you'd stumbled across as well.
"Huh, there's no writing." You say as you flip through the pages. Instead of text, you just see a bunch of random bumps on the page. Wait, isn't this...
"I think that's a Divine Tome. They're usually written in braille." Hawkwood explains, as if it was perfectly normal. Which it was, but the fact that it was somewhat normal is what actually made it strange here.
"You guys have braille around here?" You can't help but ask, now confused for an entirely different reason.
"Do you not?"
"No, we do, it's just... ugh, forget it." You say, putting the book away in your bag, before you remember that you had just been asked to find one of these a short while ago. Huh, it feels like it's been a long time, and you aren't sure why. Well, you're sure Irina'll be happy once you give her this.
A sacred braille tome from Carim, filled with advanced miracles.
Give to a storyteller to learn advanced Carim miracles.
In the Way of White, there is a tradition of placing great faith in the words of the blind, and braille tomes are not unusual. Sometimes only the sightless can see the truth.
Give to a storyteller to learn advanced Carim miracles.
In the Way of White, there is a tradition of placing great faith in the words of the blind, and braille tomes are not unusual. Sometimes only the sightless can see the truth.
"Shall we get going?" He asks, eyeing the cliff worriedly. "We shouldn't be staying down here for too long."
"Yeah, let's go." You say, earning yourself a nod as the two of you trek back up the cliffside. It's only a short distance until you reach what looks like the entrance to a stone fortress. Two of the bird people seem to be sitting off to the sides, unaware of your approach, and if you have the option to, you'll just let that continue being the case. As you cross an old stone bridge, however, you hear the sound of footsteps. A lot of footsteps. Turning around, a large crowd of the bird people practically pour out of the woodworks, their voices little more than guttural groaning. Before you know it, you and Hawkwood quickly realize that you're surrounded.
As you and Hawkwood get ready for the onslaught, however, something strange happens. Or rather, nothing happens. The bird people don't mindlessly charge you and attack on sight, but remain somewhat cowed, their wings not yet sprouted, as they glare at you from a distance. From the assembled crowd in front of you emerges an aged figure, even amongst the group of what look more like corpses than people. Its back is hunched by age and time, yet it tries to carry itself with some measure of respect nonetheless. Unlike its fellows, it wears its wings openly, yet it relies on the strange staff it grips to remain upright.
"Travelers," The creature croaks out, its voice hoarse and dusty, "you have harmed our kindred. We wish to know why."
[ ] Sayaka's Excuse: We were attacked first, and it was self defense. Maybe we should try and apologize?
[ ] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
[ ] Well, violence IS an option, although you aren't sure that you really want to...
[ ] Write in
175/2250 Corruption
Author's Note: Sat on this for several months, because I couldn't decide whether or not to keep the end portion of this post or just scrap it all together. In all honesty I really should have just sucked it up and made a decision, but that's never exactly been a strong suit of mine.
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Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
[X] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
This works well enough for me, glad to see you back recurring!
This works well enough for me, glad to see you back recurring!
Eternal_0bserver
(Unverified Bookworm)
- Location
- Earth, Northern Europe
[X] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
[X] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
It was clearly self defense. This guys have no argument against Sayaka and Hawkwood.
Loved the chapter.
Seeing Maneater Mildred 2.0 getting her due is always therapeutic. I hate that stupid shit-throwing cannibal, she killed me an embarassimg amount of times in my first playtrough of Dark Souls 3.
Sayaka and Hawkwood interactions are always a lot of fun to read in this story, they are two incredibly screwed up people doing their best to support each other in their incredibly screwed up circumstances, and they are also pretty self aware of how screwed up they are.
It was clearly self defense. This guys have no argument against Sayaka and Hawkwood.
Loved the chapter.
Seeing Maneater Mildred 2.0 getting her due is always therapeutic. I hate that stupid shit-throwing cannibal, she killed me an embarassimg amount of times in my first playtrough of Dark Souls 3.
Sayaka and Hawkwood interactions are always a lot of fun to read in this story, they are two incredibly screwed up people doing their best to support each other in their incredibly screwed up circumstances, and they are also pretty self aware of how screwed up they are.
[X] Sayaka's Excuse: We were attacked first, and it was self defense. Maybe we should try and apologize?
Hawkwood's response isn't wrong, but it does seem a lot more likely to provoke the violence option. Feels like the difference between "We're really sorry and it was self defense" and "Losers shouldn't have jumped us move before we beat you too" which... maybe not what I'd go with while currently surrounded by potential enemies.
Hawkwood's response isn't wrong, but it does seem a lot more likely to provoke the violence option. Feels like the difference between "We're really sorry and it was self defense" and "Losers shouldn't have jumped us move before we beat you too" which... maybe not what I'd go with while currently surrounded by potential enemies.
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RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
Good to be back. I don't really have a good excuse for taking so long, especially since I had most of this written for a while now. All I needed to do was suck it up and ask for feedback on it, so thank @AClassyBunny for putting up with my nonsense (and helping make what I write less terrible in general). Check out his work as well!
Honestly though, part of the issue what that I'd fallen out of interest with the Madoka series in general for a while, not helped by the fact that Dark Souls isn't getting any newer either, so getting into the headspace that I had when I first started this quest had been difficult for me for a while. Randomly though that seems to have changed, and I have no idea what caused it, but I can't say that I'm too upset about it. I really wish that my interests weren't so arbitrary though.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Sayaka's Excuse: We were attacked first, and it was self defense. Maybe we should try and apologize?
[X] Sayaka's Excuse: We were attacked first, and it was self defense. Maybe we should try and apologize?
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
I just realized I forgot to open voting like the genius I am. Regardless, voting will close in 5 hours, at midnight EST.
Nottheunmaker
Altman be praised
- Location
- USG Ishimura
[X] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
I like this characterization more.
I like this characterization more.
[X] Hawkwood's Argument: We shouldn't have to be defending ourselves when it was self-defense. If they let us through then we'll be on our way.
Glad to see this back!
It (and some others like it) inspired me to try and do QMing of my own elsewhere. It's Tough to keep writing though.
Glad to see this back!
It (and some others like it) inspired me to try and do QMing of my own elsewhere. It's Tough to keep writing though.
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
Vote closed.
Road of Sacrifices 4: Birds of a Feather
RecurringExtra
Designated Background Character
- Location
- Out of Focus
You stare at the strange, now apparently capable-of-speech bird person... thing. You wish you actually knew what they were; are they human? You really don't know what qualifies for 'human' around here, seeing as the term is also applied to that weird black sprite you stumbled upon earlier.
Wait, if this one can talk, and the rest aren't just rushing you on sight, why did the ones before? Did you surprise them and that was just what they did in a panic? Even if it was self-defense and you had no choice, killing isn't exactly something that you find pleasant. The guilt doesn't seem to weigh on you as much as it really should, and you still aren't sure why. Did dying screw with your brain in some way? Would that even change anything, seeing as you're actually just a rock pretending to be a person? Maybe you should ask somebody about this? If it has something to do with the whole 'unkindled' nonsense, it would probably be something Hawkwood would know about. He seems to be an expert on the downsides to everything.
While you're seemingly distracted by confusion, Hawkwood decides to take the initiative.
"We were attacked first, which it seems has led to an... unfortunate misunderstanding."
The creature's ancient face has been stretched and thinned by the passage of time, yet manages to become all the worse to look at when you see the heartbroken expression that crosses its face.
"So it is as I feared then." It rumbles out. "Our flock grows ever smaller as the pain of this world takes us one by one. Why did we ever leave the painting?" It says, its voice more akin to a sob.
At its words, a few of the others turn to the figure and seem to grumble something at them.
"I guess they can still talk to each other?" You mumble to Hawkwood as part of the group seems to turn in on itself, while the rest remain to glare at you and block your way simply with their presence.
"Maybe that one is the only one that can speak our tongue." Hawkwood says with a shrug.
After a minute or so, the speaker turns back to you, "Life in this world becomes ever more unbearable as time itself is torn apart. It is all too easy to lose oneself in the depths of nostalgia and what ifs."
"You mentioned a painting, I believe?" Hawkwood asks.
"Yes, we are Corvians of the Painted World. Or we were, once." The figure says with a cough. "We ignored the warnings of the outside world and escaped here when madness took our home. Now we rot away out here, suffering the passage of eternity until madness claims each and every one of us. So little of who we once were is left..."
"Painted World?" You ask, confused, to which Hawkwood only shrugs.
"I... see." Hawkwood lies. "Well, is there any way that we can... clear up this misunderstanding?"
"Yes, of course. It's rather simple, for it is the custom of our home. Simply put, you must leave." The bird man says, to which Hawkwood simply stares at him blankly for a moment.
"Just to clarify, this is supposed to be a punishment, of a sort, correct?"
"Yes, well, normally the method of leaving is hurling yourself off a ledge and falling into a hole in the world itself, but asking you to do something like that here would simply end with your death."
Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, the place is called a 'painted world' right? Probably runs off the logic of abstract art or something.
"Well, uh, could we leave through the other side?" You ask earnestly.
"You wish to travel the Road?" The figure asks. "I cannot tell whether you are reckless or simply foolish, but no... this is perfect. A fitting punishment indeed." It says, nodding.
With a burst of strength it really shouldn't have, the creature raises its staff and slams it back down. You can't deny that you jump a little at the sudden loud noise. It turns to its fellows and lets out a loud squawk, to which the assembled bird people seem to acknowledge. How they actually feel about it probably isn't very good, judging by the hissing. Nevertheless, the crowd begins to drift away, and soon it's just you, Hawkwood, and the apparent leader.
"Follow me." He says, before he begins heading towards the fortress up ahead. Sharing a look with Hawkwood, you both hesitantly follow behind him. As soon as you're past the entrance, however, all of the strength seems to leave the birdman's body.
"I'm not sure how much longer this can go on." He mutters, before he turns back to face the two of you. "I'd like to apologize to the both of you, for what little it may be worth."
…What? Wasn't he just upset with you?
"I can't say I understand." Hawkwood says.
"I'm well aware of what likely happened. One of our number attacked you mindlessly, and you had little choice but to cut them down. It's something that I have the unfortunate responsibility of having to accept." He sighs, leaning ever more on his staff to continue standing. He doesn't just look tired, he looks utterly and completely exhausted, both physically as well as mentally. "All the others still cling to hope. Hope was what drove us to take the chance of leaving the painting, and now none wish to accept the truth: that we are doomed.
"So what was with the big performance before?" You ask.
"They might not understand what I say in this tongue, but they aren't fools. They would know if I simply let people go. I must still put on an air of authority for them to be willing to maintain their trust, though I sometimes wonder if doing so is worth it with how much has been lost."
"How long have you all been wandering?" Hawkwood inquires, curious.
"Days hardly ever pass any more. The sky changes when it deems it appropriate, rather than responding to time." He looks up at the horizon. "I cannot recall the last time it was night."
"Wait, wasn't it night earlier?" You ask.
"Up on the High Wall, yes, but that isn't the same as down here." Hawkwood says sagely, as if that made any sense.
"But... I can literally see it from here." You, say, literally pointing at it off in the distance. "How exactly are you going to tell me that it was night right over there and then it wasn't right here?"
"Young lady, this world is falling apart, and all that remains is stitched together. What is true in one part is not necessarily true in another, and soon it will no longer matter at all."
"But... I..." You groan. No. You already said you'd just accept the stupid rules of this place. It's not like any of it has made sense before this, so why would it start making sense now? You can't keep hoping that, down the line, sense will finally start being made when, at every step of the way, there has been none in production.
"Is... she okay?" You hear the birdman ask Hawkwood, surprisingly concerned.
"She never lived during the end of a cycle, so she doesn't seem to understand how odd things can get." Hawkwood explains, doing his best (and failing) to avoid sounding patronizing.
"Well, neither have I. I lived in the painted world, with entirely different rules. I just thought it wasn't that hard to understand." He says, to which Hawkwood merely shrugs.
"I can hear you two, you know." You huff out in annoyance.
"Well, I would certainly hope so. If you couldn't, I'd be even more concerned."
You want to smash your head into a wall, Hawkwood is doing his best to not laugh at your misery, and you hate the fact that this random bird man is being nice to you all of a sudden, which makes no sense, because you'd think that would be a good thing, right?
"Well, if you're unsure of how long it's been, do you know how many you've lost?"
"We once numbered three hundred and forty when we first departed the Painted World. Now we are a mere eighty-seven."
"And they haven't given up hope yet, despite losing around three quarters of your group?"
"We don't have much of anything. Hope is all that they have left, and for better for worse, they refuse to relinquish it." The bird man says, shaking his head.
"I see you have some other guests." A voice calls out to you.
You turn to look further down the path, and see a bonfire down a short staircase. Standing beside it are you two armored figures.
"I'm not sure 'guests' is the appropriate term." Hawkwood replies.
As the two figures get close, the first thing that stands out is one of their weapons. It looks like somebody saw a spear and thought it needed to be cooler, so they just tried to shove a sword onto the end and called it a day. It does not look at all practical, and this is even going by Hawkwood's wacky fight-flipping nonsense. Then again, what's one more weird thing around here? You just learned that the time of day can change every kilometer you travel, who's to say what other wacky nonsense is next? Maybe up will become down randomly, or the sun will start bleeding. You trying not to be surprised by this place, but it's hard when it just makes so little sense.
"Ah, my apologies." The Corvian says, bowing, or at least trying to without falling over. "Are you preparing to depart?"
"Just about, but then we heard the commotion and got curious." The speaker, the one with the bizarre weapon, is wearing a full suit of armor, a mixture of plate and chainmail, with a blue surcoat, although the cloth is no doubt covering metal. The only part that doesn't seem to be metal are the leather gloves.
"Would you be willing to see them to their destination, oh Knight of Astora."
"Like I said, you shouldn't feel the need to humble yourself so, especially not to me of all people."
"I... apologize. It's habitual more than anything."
"I understand. So what's this about destinations?"
"They seek to travel the Road." The birdman says.
"Interesting, that's our goal as well." The figure says.
"Then I will place them in your care." He says, before he begins to hobble away, likely back to the rest of his fellows. However, as he passes you, he seems to pause, and turns to look at you.
"Should you ever find yourself within, do not trust the Sister and her lies." He whispers ominously, before abruptly continuing his hobbling, much to your confusion. Sister? Within? What was he even talking about? Shaking your head, you turn back to the rest of the group, and see the armored figure offer Hawkwood their hand.
"Anri, of Astora."
"Hawkwood." He says, accepting the handshake. "And this is Sayaka."
"Hi." You say, waving.
Anri stares at you, then at Hawkwood, then turns to their (you honestly can't tell if they're a guy or a girl) companion, who still has yet to say anything, and then back at you.
"Well, I can't say I expected a child to be an Unkindled."
"Hey, I'm good in a fight, right Hawkwood?"
"I am refraining from commenting." He replies dryly.
"Wuh-" you freeze to turn and glare at him. "Hey, tell them about the dark knight-
"Darkwraith." He corrects.
"Yeah, that. I won that fight, remember?"
"I think that may have been the only fight where you weren't grievously injured, oddly enough."
"Wait, you beat a darkwraith?" Anri says, surprised.
"Barely. She almost got the two of us killed. Me more so than her."
"Okay, but we still beat it, didn't we?"
"Even if we did, I wouldn't go around trying to brag about it when we barely managed to do it in the first place."
"But we did beat it."
"Regardless of whether it was close or not, defeating a darkwraith is an accomplishment to be celebrated." Anri says, nodding.
"Please don't encourage her. She's still a teenager..." He pauses, before he turns to you. "Actually, how old are you, anyhow?"
"Fourteen." You reply. His response is to put his hands to his face and take a deep breath.
"It isn't surprising, but actually having the number just really just made me feel worse."
"Well, it isn't like I have much of a choice at this point." You say with a shrug.
"That isn't-"
"Are you two always like this?"
You both pause to look at Anri, confused.
"Is there something wrong?" Hawkwood asks, to which Anri seems almost amused.
"No, if anything it's sort of comforting. You don't get much genuine human interaction anymore, at least none that isn't a morose lament of some kind."
"What about your friend there?" You ask, gesturing to the other figure. This one is covered in a bulky black suit of steel armor with, oddly enough, a cape on the back. In contrast to Anri's bizarre combination weapon, he's armed with a halberd. So not exactly a simpler weapon, but at least it's one that makes sense.
"Oh, Horace? He... doesn't talk very much."
Horace turns to look at Anri, who stops. "Alright, alright, I won't." You both share a look of confusion, before Anri turns back to both of you.
"How much do you know of Aldritch, self-proclaimed Saint of the Deep?" Anri asks.
"Isn't he, like, a big slime because he ate a bunch of people?" You ask.
"That... certainly is the gist of it, yes." Anri replies with a nod. "Well, suffice it to say that me and Horace are currently after him. As fellow unkindled, I'm sure you understand."
"Wait, both of you are also unkindled?" You turn to Hawkwood. "I thought you said there weren't any others."
"I never said that, I said all of the others I knew about gave up. They aren't even the first other Unkindled we've run into so far."
"There was another?"
"Yes, the strange man with a deathwish in the onion-like armor."
"Ah, I see you two have met Siegward as well. Interesting man, isn't he?" Anri says with a chuckle.
"I think he said he was from Catarina. I've never actually met anyone from Catarina before this," Hawkwood says. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've met anyone from Astora either. The last I'd heard, it was under attack by some monster or another."
Anri pauses, before slowly nodding. "Yes, an Evil Eye. They regularly assault Astora, but are beaten back every time, though at massive cost."
The other armored figure, the one Anri called Horace, lets out a groan towards them, to which Anri turns back to stare at them. Horace just shakes his head, to which Anri seems to give a small shrug.
"If it's a recurring issue, wouldn't it be wise to try and prevent it in some way?"
"The only way to 'prevent' it would be to abandon the land entirely. Does the idea of people abandoning their homes bring you some measure of happiness?"
"Of course not, but believe me, I'm well aware of how stubborn people can be despite being in the worst situations imaginable."
Anri stares at Hawkwood closely, examining him carefully.
"You're a member of the Undead Legion, aren't you?"
"I was. Not exactly trying too hard to hide it, but it's difficult to still be one after I deserted."
"And a deserter ended up an Unkindled?"
"It's... a long story." Hawkwood says sheepishly, to which Anri gives a slow nod.
"Fair enough. You didn't try to pry earlier, so I'll extend the same courtesy to you."
"Much appreciated. It's not something I'm fond of reminiscing on." Hawkwood says.
Horace lets out a grunt, interrupting the conversation.
"Ah, yes, you're right as usual, Horace." Anri says with a shake of their head. "We should get moving. The Crucifixion Woods is right below us, and from there the path splits between the Cathedral of the Deep and Farron proper." They turn to look at Hawkwood. "I'm assuming that you likely want to go to Farron first?"
"...Somewhat. At the same time, I'd like more than anything to never go back there again. There's... a lot of mixed feelings, to say the least."
"Well, if the two of you would be alright coming with us to the Cathedral, we'd be more than happy helping you afterwards."
[ ] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
[ ] Decline the offer, and head towards Farron first.
[ ] Write in
Author's Note: I've written like three versions of the same "I take too long to post updates but this one was actually quick" joke only to immediately delete them because none of them have been even remotely funny. But yeah, happy to get this one out at a reasonable pace for the first time in a long time. Here's hoping that continues to be the case.
Wait, if this one can talk, and the rest aren't just rushing you on sight, why did the ones before? Did you surprise them and that was just what they did in a panic? Even if it was self-defense and you had no choice, killing isn't exactly something that you find pleasant. The guilt doesn't seem to weigh on you as much as it really should, and you still aren't sure why. Did dying screw with your brain in some way? Would that even change anything, seeing as you're actually just a rock pretending to be a person? Maybe you should ask somebody about this? If it has something to do with the whole 'unkindled' nonsense, it would probably be something Hawkwood would know about. He seems to be an expert on the downsides to everything.
While you're seemingly distracted by confusion, Hawkwood decides to take the initiative.
"We were attacked first, which it seems has led to an... unfortunate misunderstanding."
The creature's ancient face has been stretched and thinned by the passage of time, yet manages to become all the worse to look at when you see the heartbroken expression that crosses its face.
"So it is as I feared then." It rumbles out. "Our flock grows ever smaller as the pain of this world takes us one by one. Why did we ever leave the painting?" It says, its voice more akin to a sob.
At its words, a few of the others turn to the figure and seem to grumble something at them.
"I guess they can still talk to each other?" You mumble to Hawkwood as part of the group seems to turn in on itself, while the rest remain to glare at you and block your way simply with their presence.
"Maybe that one is the only one that can speak our tongue." Hawkwood says with a shrug.
After a minute or so, the speaker turns back to you, "Life in this world becomes ever more unbearable as time itself is torn apart. It is all too easy to lose oneself in the depths of nostalgia and what ifs."
"You mentioned a painting, I believe?" Hawkwood asks.
"Yes, we are Corvians of the Painted World. Or we were, once." The figure says with a cough. "We ignored the warnings of the outside world and escaped here when madness took our home. Now we rot away out here, suffering the passage of eternity until madness claims each and every one of us. So little of who we once were is left..."
"Painted World?" You ask, confused, to which Hawkwood only shrugs.
"I... see." Hawkwood lies. "Well, is there any way that we can... clear up this misunderstanding?"
"Yes, of course. It's rather simple, for it is the custom of our home. Simply put, you must leave." The bird man says, to which Hawkwood simply stares at him blankly for a moment.
"Just to clarify, this is supposed to be a punishment, of a sort, correct?"
"Yes, well, normally the method of leaving is hurling yourself off a ledge and falling into a hole in the world itself, but asking you to do something like that here would simply end with your death."
Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, the place is called a 'painted world' right? Probably runs off the logic of abstract art or something.
"Well, uh, could we leave through the other side?" You ask earnestly.
"You wish to travel the Road?" The figure asks. "I cannot tell whether you are reckless or simply foolish, but no... this is perfect. A fitting punishment indeed." It says, nodding.
With a burst of strength it really shouldn't have, the creature raises its staff and slams it back down. You can't deny that you jump a little at the sudden loud noise. It turns to its fellows and lets out a loud squawk, to which the assembled bird people seem to acknowledge. How they actually feel about it probably isn't very good, judging by the hissing. Nevertheless, the crowd begins to drift away, and soon it's just you, Hawkwood, and the apparent leader.
"Follow me." He says, before he begins heading towards the fortress up ahead. Sharing a look with Hawkwood, you both hesitantly follow behind him. As soon as you're past the entrance, however, all of the strength seems to leave the birdman's body.
"I'm not sure how much longer this can go on." He mutters, before he turns back to face the two of you. "I'd like to apologize to the both of you, for what little it may be worth."
…What? Wasn't he just upset with you?
"I can't say I understand." Hawkwood says.
"I'm well aware of what likely happened. One of our number attacked you mindlessly, and you had little choice but to cut them down. It's something that I have the unfortunate responsibility of having to accept." He sighs, leaning ever more on his staff to continue standing. He doesn't just look tired, he looks utterly and completely exhausted, both physically as well as mentally. "All the others still cling to hope. Hope was what drove us to take the chance of leaving the painting, and now none wish to accept the truth: that we are doomed.
"So what was with the big performance before?" You ask.
"They might not understand what I say in this tongue, but they aren't fools. They would know if I simply let people go. I must still put on an air of authority for them to be willing to maintain their trust, though I sometimes wonder if doing so is worth it with how much has been lost."
"How long have you all been wandering?" Hawkwood inquires, curious.
"Days hardly ever pass any more. The sky changes when it deems it appropriate, rather than responding to time." He looks up at the horizon. "I cannot recall the last time it was night."
"Wait, wasn't it night earlier?" You ask.
"Up on the High Wall, yes, but that isn't the same as down here." Hawkwood says sagely, as if that made any sense.
"But... I can literally see it from here." You, say, literally pointing at it off in the distance. "How exactly are you going to tell me that it was night right over there and then it wasn't right here?"
"Young lady, this world is falling apart, and all that remains is stitched together. What is true in one part is not necessarily true in another, and soon it will no longer matter at all."
"But... I..." You groan. No. You already said you'd just accept the stupid rules of this place. It's not like any of it has made sense before this, so why would it start making sense now? You can't keep hoping that, down the line, sense will finally start being made when, at every step of the way, there has been none in production.
"Is... she okay?" You hear the birdman ask Hawkwood, surprisingly concerned.
"She never lived during the end of a cycle, so she doesn't seem to understand how odd things can get." Hawkwood explains, doing his best (and failing) to avoid sounding patronizing.
"Well, neither have I. I lived in the painted world, with entirely different rules. I just thought it wasn't that hard to understand." He says, to which Hawkwood merely shrugs.
"I can hear you two, you know." You huff out in annoyance.
"Well, I would certainly hope so. If you couldn't, I'd be even more concerned."
You want to smash your head into a wall, Hawkwood is doing his best to not laugh at your misery, and you hate the fact that this random bird man is being nice to you all of a sudden, which makes no sense, because you'd think that would be a good thing, right?
"Well, if you're unsure of how long it's been, do you know how many you've lost?"
"We once numbered three hundred and forty when we first departed the Painted World. Now we are a mere eighty-seven."
"And they haven't given up hope yet, despite losing around three quarters of your group?"
"We don't have much of anything. Hope is all that they have left, and for better for worse, they refuse to relinquish it." The bird man says, shaking his head.
"I see you have some other guests." A voice calls out to you.
You turn to look further down the path, and see a bonfire down a short staircase. Standing beside it are you two armored figures.
"I'm not sure 'guests' is the appropriate term." Hawkwood replies.
As the two figures get close, the first thing that stands out is one of their weapons. It looks like somebody saw a spear and thought it needed to be cooler, so they just tried to shove a sword onto the end and called it a day. It does not look at all practical, and this is even going by Hawkwood's wacky fight-flipping nonsense. Then again, what's one more weird thing around here? You just learned that the time of day can change every kilometer you travel, who's to say what other wacky nonsense is next? Maybe up will become down randomly, or the sun will start bleeding. You trying not to be surprised by this place, but it's hard when it just makes so little sense.
"Ah, my apologies." The Corvian says, bowing, or at least trying to without falling over. "Are you preparing to depart?"
"Just about, but then we heard the commotion and got curious." The speaker, the one with the bizarre weapon, is wearing a full suit of armor, a mixture of plate and chainmail, with a blue surcoat, although the cloth is no doubt covering metal. The only part that doesn't seem to be metal are the leather gloves.
"Would you be willing to see them to their destination, oh Knight of Astora."
"Like I said, you shouldn't feel the need to humble yourself so, especially not to me of all people."
"I... apologize. It's habitual more than anything."
"I understand. So what's this about destinations?"
"They seek to travel the Road." The birdman says.
"Interesting, that's our goal as well." The figure says.
"Then I will place them in your care." He says, before he begins to hobble away, likely back to the rest of his fellows. However, as he passes you, he seems to pause, and turns to look at you.
"Should you ever find yourself within, do not trust the Sister and her lies." He whispers ominously, before abruptly continuing his hobbling, much to your confusion. Sister? Within? What was he even talking about? Shaking your head, you turn back to the rest of the group, and see the armored figure offer Hawkwood their hand.
"Anri, of Astora."
"Hawkwood." He says, accepting the handshake. "And this is Sayaka."
"Hi." You say, waving.
Anri stares at you, then at Hawkwood, then turns to their (you honestly can't tell if they're a guy or a girl) companion, who still has yet to say anything, and then back at you.
"Well, I can't say I expected a child to be an Unkindled."
"Hey, I'm good in a fight, right Hawkwood?"
"I am refraining from commenting." He replies dryly.
"Wuh-" you freeze to turn and glare at him. "Hey, tell them about the dark knight-
"Darkwraith." He corrects.
"Yeah, that. I won that fight, remember?"
"I think that may have been the only fight where you weren't grievously injured, oddly enough."
"Wait, you beat a darkwraith?" Anri says, surprised.
"Barely. She almost got the two of us killed. Me more so than her."
"Okay, but we still beat it, didn't we?"
"Even if we did, I wouldn't go around trying to brag about it when we barely managed to do it in the first place."
"But we did beat it."
"Regardless of whether it was close or not, defeating a darkwraith is an accomplishment to be celebrated." Anri says, nodding.
"Please don't encourage her. She's still a teenager..." He pauses, before he turns to you. "Actually, how old are you, anyhow?"
"Fourteen." You reply. His response is to put his hands to his face and take a deep breath.
"It isn't surprising, but actually having the number just really just made me feel worse."
"Well, it isn't like I have much of a choice at this point." You say with a shrug.
"That isn't-"
"Are you two always like this?"
You both pause to look at Anri, confused.
"Is there something wrong?" Hawkwood asks, to which Anri seems almost amused.
"No, if anything it's sort of comforting. You don't get much genuine human interaction anymore, at least none that isn't a morose lament of some kind."
"What about your friend there?" You ask, gesturing to the other figure. This one is covered in a bulky black suit of steel armor with, oddly enough, a cape on the back. In contrast to Anri's bizarre combination weapon, he's armed with a halberd. So not exactly a simpler weapon, but at least it's one that makes sense.
"Oh, Horace? He... doesn't talk very much."
Horace turns to look at Anri, who stops. "Alright, alright, I won't." You both share a look of confusion, before Anri turns back to both of you.
"How much do you know of Aldritch, self-proclaimed Saint of the Deep?" Anri asks.
"Isn't he, like, a big slime because he ate a bunch of people?" You ask.
"That... certainly is the gist of it, yes." Anri replies with a nod. "Well, suffice it to say that me and Horace are currently after him. As fellow unkindled, I'm sure you understand."
"Wait, both of you are also unkindled?" You turn to Hawkwood. "I thought you said there weren't any others."
"I never said that, I said all of the others I knew about gave up. They aren't even the first other Unkindled we've run into so far."
"There was another?"
"Yes, the strange man with a deathwish in the onion-like armor."
"Ah, I see you two have met Siegward as well. Interesting man, isn't he?" Anri says with a chuckle.
"I think he said he was from Catarina. I've never actually met anyone from Catarina before this," Hawkwood says. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've met anyone from Astora either. The last I'd heard, it was under attack by some monster or another."
Anri pauses, before slowly nodding. "Yes, an Evil Eye. They regularly assault Astora, but are beaten back every time, though at massive cost."
The other armored figure, the one Anri called Horace, lets out a groan towards them, to which Anri turns back to stare at them. Horace just shakes his head, to which Anri seems to give a small shrug.
"If it's a recurring issue, wouldn't it be wise to try and prevent it in some way?"
"The only way to 'prevent' it would be to abandon the land entirely. Does the idea of people abandoning their homes bring you some measure of happiness?"
"Of course not, but believe me, I'm well aware of how stubborn people can be despite being in the worst situations imaginable."
Anri stares at Hawkwood closely, examining him carefully.
"You're a member of the Undead Legion, aren't you?"
"I was. Not exactly trying too hard to hide it, but it's difficult to still be one after I deserted."
"And a deserter ended up an Unkindled?"
"It's... a long story." Hawkwood says sheepishly, to which Anri gives a slow nod.
"Fair enough. You didn't try to pry earlier, so I'll extend the same courtesy to you."
"Much appreciated. It's not something I'm fond of reminiscing on." Hawkwood says.
Horace lets out a grunt, interrupting the conversation.
"Ah, yes, you're right as usual, Horace." Anri says with a shake of their head. "We should get moving. The Crucifixion Woods is right below us, and from there the path splits between the Cathedral of the Deep and Farron proper." They turn to look at Hawkwood. "I'm assuming that you likely want to go to Farron first?"
"...Somewhat. At the same time, I'd like more than anything to never go back there again. There's... a lot of mixed feelings, to say the least."
"Well, if the two of you would be alright coming with us to the Cathedral, we'd be more than happy helping you afterwards."
[ ] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
[ ] Decline the offer, and head towards Farron first.
[ ] Write in
175/2250 Corruption
Author's Note: I've written like three versions of the same "I take too long to post updates but this one was actually quick" joke only to immediately delete them because none of them have been even remotely funny. But yeah, happy to get this one out at a reasonable pace for the first time in a long time. Here's hoping that continues to be the case.
Last edited:
Nottheunmaker
Altman be praised
- Location
- USG Ishimura
Hum. Well, the more the merrier I suppose. And if Anri and Horace die in a way were we can't meet up again, we can find out if that spear is enough of a sword for the storage magic to work.
[X] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
[X] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
[X] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
More heroes join the party!
I absolutely want to see Anri and Horace have an adventure with Hawkwood and Sayaka.
This is one of my favorite parts of the game, i can't wait to see what they will do when they meet the Crystal Sage and enter the Cathedral of the Deep.
By the way, i loved the Corvians. And all the forshadowing made by them abaout the Painted World.
More heroes join the party!
I absolutely want to see Anri and Horace have an adventure with Hawkwood and Sayaka.
This is one of my favorite parts of the game, i can't wait to see what they will do when they meet the Crystal Sage and enter the Cathedral of the Deep.
By the way, i loved the Corvians. And all the forshadowing made by them abaout the Painted World.
Eternal_0bserver
(Unverified Bookworm)
- Location
- Earth, Northern Europe
[X] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.
- Location
- Internet
[X] Agree to join Anri and Horace and head for the Cathedral of the Deep.