Blue Ash (Dark Souls III/PMMM)

[RecurringExtra]

While you know that you should probably stop putting it off, your can't help but wonder what exactly it is that you found. It might be useful, it might be worthless, but regardless, it at least looks important, and that's enough to make you wonder.

"I think we should bring it to him and see what he thinks." You say, still examining it as much as you can without causing a migraine. Calling it leather is a bit wrong, seeing as the thing feels like its made of stone more than anything, but seeing as it's made of Crystal Lizards, that isn't too surprising.

"Well, you've got me curious now as well." Hawkwood says. "Let's head back then, shall we?"

Getting back to the bonfire is a, thankfully, quick and quiet affair, although that isn't too surprising now that you think about it. Most of the inhabitants of the Undead Settlement are either gone, or too afraid to try their luck against you. It's a morbid thought, one that, you won't lie, leaves you with a fair bit of guilt. Self-defense or not, you still aren't comfortable fighting everyone you run into, especially not when the results are so gruesome. Hopefully, that will continue to be the case.

As you exit the temple (or shrine, or cathedral, or whatever this place is supposed to be, you really aren't sure at this point, and nobody seems to have any inclination of clearing it up for you,) Hawkwood seems to notice the shift in your mood.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asks.

"Yeah, just... thinking."

"Ah, second guessing this whole endeavor finally?" Hawkwood says, although whether it's a half-hearted attempt at humor or serious you're not sure, and, you think, neither is he.

"No, not yet at least." You say with a faint smile.

"Look, if you need to talk about it, I'm here, all right?" Hawkwood says

"I'm alright." You lie.

"...Well, okay then." Hawkwood says, clearly not believing you.

The rest of the short walk is silent, and the silence continues even as the world falls away from you when you place your hand over the flame.

---

By now, you've started to get used to the dreary appearance of Firelink Shrine. The place has no color to speak of besides what feels like an endless gray, but... Yeah, no, there's no real positives. The place sucks, but at least you're getting used to it sucking. That has to be something, right?

Your arrival seems to not go unnoticed, as you're soon greeted by who you were going to see.

"My, my, in thy arms, could that be...?" He murmurs in his usual quiet yet dignified manner. You hop up the levels of the thrones to reach Ludleth, carrying the thing in your arms, while Hawkwood seems content to remain at the ground level and watch.

"We found it inside a giant rotting tree. Almost got crushed in the process." You say, relieved for a subject change to get your mind off of... everything, really.

"Almost?" Hawkwood adds dryly.

"Do I look flattened to you?" You shoot back with a glare.

Ludleth gives a soft chuckle. "I am glad to hear thy efforts continue to be met with success. Now, may I see what it is that thou've found?"

You nod, and hand the short man the weird stone/leather ball.

"Oh, belike it is… a transposing kiln in thy possession." Ludlith says, turning the strange device around in his hands as he seems to examine every inch of it. You note with amusement how even he only briefly glances at the inside, before moving on. "Seen better days, but, methinks it shall suffice."

"How is this a kiln?" You ask. You weren't big on pottery, but you don't think one would work if it was made of lizard corpses.

Ludleth lets out a light chuckle. "'Tis but a name. It should not be taken as a literal, for it serves a similar function, albeit in a different manner."

"So what exactly does it do then?" Hawkwood raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why is it even called 'transposing'?" Seeing as this isn't sheet music, you aren't sure what the kiln would even be able to do, let alone with what it would be doing it.

"Transposition is the art of extracting, and coalescing the essence of a soul. In transposing a twisted soul, its true power transferreth to thee."

"So it lets you absorb other people's souls?" You can't help but ask, despite the implications. You really hope that isn't what it does.

"No, the Kiln sifts through what yet lingers within the soul, and transposes that which was associated with the Soul, things that were important to it, whether that be a weapon, an accessory, or even a spell or miracle of some sort. It is those possessions that are the true power of a Soul, not the identity of the owner."

"And it's safe to use?" Hawkwood asks.

"In my hands? Yes. But it is hard to say whether the same could be said for most others."

"Shouldn't you... clean it or something?" You ask.

Ludleth takes a quick glance at the Kiln for a moment. "'Tis perfectly fine as it is."

"Yeah, but you didn't see where it came from."

"It was one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen." Hawkwood adds. "It might be best to, I don't know, rinse the thing or something."

Ludleth... actually rolls his eyes. "Believe me this: Crystal leather is resistant to such contamination. It is, after all spotless, is it not?" And he isn't wrong, there really aren't any signs of any of the Tree's muck present on the Kiln, or much of anything for that matter. Is is, as he put it, spotless. "Now, if you wouldn't mind selecting one of the souls in your possession," Ludleth begins, "we could-"

"Wait." You say, reaching into your bag. It takes a moment, but eventually you manage to find what you're looking for, and pull out the Fire Gem you had woken up with all that time ago. "Would you be able to use this?"

Hawkwood and Ludleth both share a look when they see what you've taken out.

"What?"

"Is that the Gem you showed to Andre?" Hawkwood asks.

You feel your cheeks flush.

"I.. er..." You manage to stammer out.

"We are merely concerned. It is uncommon for one your age to be attached to such things." Ludleth says. "Is it an heirloom, or a memento of some kind?"

You remain silent at first, unsure of what your answer should be.

"You could say that. I think it might be the last thing I... have from a..." You pause, unsure of how to describe Kyoko. "...an acquaintance." You settle on. It doesn't feel accurate, but you couldn't really call her a friend, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

"Would this be the girl thou mentioned before?" Ludleth asks. "The one who, as you claim, sacrificed herself?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?" You say a lot more defensively than you expected to.

"Wait, you never mentioned some other girl."

Ludleth shoots Hawkwood a glare (or at least the closest thing that he seems capable of, so it's a bit more like a look of disappointment really,) who backs off, before a small smile forms on Ludleth's face as he turns back to face you. "None at all. Please, pass it to me, and we shall see what we shall see."

"How do you guys even know about it anyway?"

"Andre mentioned you started crying after you showed him a titanite gem."

"Indeed, the blacksmith warned us that, should the subject come up, we tread it with caution."

You're half tempted to march off and go yell at Andre right now, but your interest in what Ludleth might find is deemed much more important. For now at least...

There's an awkward silence as you wait for Ludleth to finish his examination of the gemstone. You don't want to ruin his concentration or anything, but each moment feels longer than the last, and he's been at it for a few minutes now.

"There are... traces of a soul, but they are but the faintest of remnants." Ludleth finally says having finished staring at the gem and turning it around in his hands (very) slowly. "Tis strange, but it seems almost familiar somehow. How or why, I cannot say."

"Well, it is a Fire Gem. Not too surprising that it'd be familiar to you." Hawkwood chimes in.

Ludleth lets out a quiet chuckle. "Very true."

"So... what is it?"

"'Tis a fire gem, but that you already are well aware of. One of exceptional quality, and..." He pauses. "...Something else. But what it is not is a Soul, or a remnant of such."

"But I thought you said there were traces of a soul?"

"It is odd, most certainly, but traces of a soul does not a soul make."

Alright, so while there's something different about the gem, it's only just barely. You... really have no idea what that is supposed to imply, nor if what Ludleth found is even related to Kyoko in the first place. It's the most likely option, but you've long since given up on probabilities being relevant around here. And why did Ludleth find it familiar anyhow?

You can't help but let out a sigh as Ludleth hands the Fire Gem back to you. As he does, however, he seems oddly fixated on it, as if he's still thinking about it even after you've begun stowing it back away. When you look back up, his gaze lingers on your bag, before he seems to realize and looks away.

"Now then." Ludleth says, "the Kiln can only handle so much at a time, so I ask that you only select a single twisted soul that you've acquired for now." Ludleth explains.

---

[] "Transpose" (ugh) one of the souls you currently have.
-[] Soul of Vordt of the Boreal Valley
-[] Soul of a Darkwraith
-[] Soul of the Curse Rotted Greatwood
-[] Whatever this thing is, and whatever Ludleth might say about it, you don't trust it. It came out of a giant rotting tree, how could it be safe?

---

Souls: 15074

Six Level Ups Available!
Alternatively, you could also go to the Shrine Maiden and get scammed purchase some goods at a perfectly reasonable price.

You have six points to distribute, should you choose to level up that many times.
Current Stats
Soul Level 15
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 12
Intelligence: 12
Faith: 10
Luck: 20

Weapon Upgrade Options
You can currently upgrade one of the following once:
Astoran Straight Sword
Red-Hilted Halberd
Irithyll Straight Sword (Need Twinkling Titanite)​

---

Afterwards, you decide to go to
[] Head out to the Road of Sacrifices. Time to get this show on the road. Heh, get it? Road...
[] Meet with the Shrine denizens: (Select however many)
-[] Check up with Greirat. The last time you saw him, he seemed... out of it, to say the least.
-[] See how Irina is doing in her little corner of the shrine.
-[] Yoel showed you how to do magic. The least you could do is stop by and say hello.
-[] Go meet with Cornyx. He seemed excited at the idea of students to teach, and you may as well indulge the old man.
-[] Go yell at Andre.
-[] Write in
[] Demon. Fight. Do it.

---

I had hoped to get this out quickly, but then I started to binge read something that ate up two weeks of my life. Didn't expect anything like that to happen so soon after Elden Ring, but the post-binge depression was thankfully nowhere near as bad this time.

In other news, a friend of mine is playing through Dark Souls 1. It took me seven years to convince him, after having bought him the game twice. He wanted to murder Siegmeyer in Anor Londo. I am very disappointed in him. His punishment is being forced to play the rest of the series.

 

[RecurringExtra]

While Hawkwood eyed your choice of soul nervously, Ludleth seemed to have no such reservations, or at least if he did he no gave clue as to having them. "Now, let us begin." He says. Carefully, he places the soul within the empty cavity of the Kiln, and then-

How long you'd been locked in this cell, you do not know. At first, they had sent down an executioner, but when they had failed to return, they had begun to send soldiers, and then knights. Eventually, they seemed to realize that none would succeed, and you were left in the company of the corpses. But that was fine with you. You had already waited for so long, what was a few decades more?

Now, the corpses were long since gone, having decomposed away entirely, along with the gore that had once coated the impromptu arena that you had remained in. You almost missed the viscera and blood, granting color to this barren prison. Many would find the cloying scent unbearable, but it was more a comfort in your mind, having long since grown used to it. At least it would be something rather than the endless sensory nothingness that you were forced to experience. But it was fine. You'd been through much worse, times you can remember and times you had long since forgotten, and this was most certainly not the worst you'd experienced.

It still was hard to believe what had happened all those years ago. While so much else has faded away through the fog of ages, the final days of service to the Four Kings still echo in your mind. So many dead, all by the hands of two mere mortals. You were one of the few who had escaped the slaughter, and had the misfortune of watching as the Gods' plan succeeded, and the Age of Fire continued on. Well, it mattered little to you, and even now, so long later, it still doesn't. Kaathe had always been but a means to power, no matter what the crazed serpent had told himself, and hearing of his demise did little more than bring ancient memories back to the forefront of your mind.

But power you had long since acquired, and the fire still failed to fade, even after so long. You watched as countless nations and peoples rose, suffered, and fell.And yet, here you remained, a relic of an ancient time beyond reckoning for most. Nothing mattered much to you at this point, and the only reason you hadn't curled up and died was spite. One day, the Fire will fade for good, and you will be there, waiting. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

Suddenly, your peace is disturbed by the last thing you had been expecting: the loud thump of the door to your cell smashing to the ground. From this distance, the sound is faint, but hearing any noise is a surprise at this point. It seems you might finally have some guests to entertain. It has been a while since you've so much as moved, but that's no issue. You ignore the aching of your limbs as you finally stand up once more, after so long spent idle. As you begin to regain mobility, you listen to what sounds like two voices: a man and what sounds like a young girl. While you aren't able to make out what they're saying, it sounds like an argument of some sort.

Unfortunately, the voices soon fade, and you are returned to the company of silence. You suppose you could leave now, if you wanted, but the last time you had been out, the kingdom had been a complete wreck. Besides, those two might decide to come back later, and you wouldn't want to disappoint them.

In the early morning, you hear the sounds of conflict, and howls of rage and agony as the Watchdog is finally slain. It seems the pet bird has lost one of its toys. Eventually, the sounds of battle fade as well, and silence once more reigns supreme. But now, your blood is flowing once more. You ache for the violence you've been denied for so long.

You position yourself behind the elevator platform. They might be looking this way, true, but it's much more likely they'll be facing straight ahead, and you were never really one for fighting fair.

As the chains continue to unwind, you can't help but smirk at the thought of some new prey to finally catch. Who knows, perhaps these will have some Humanity on them?

The elevator comes to a halt and then-

No. No, this couldn't be happening. Not to you, not after everything you've fought through. Eons passed in this twisted, disgusting world, yet you had remained.Yet your worry and fears quickly drain from you, as you realize the truth. It's already over. You've already lost, and there is nothing more to be done.You want to scream and roar in outrage, but the energy simply isn't there. Instead, you close your eyes and-

"Laid low at last by a child and a Watcher. Age really has caught up to me."

You blink. You're standing in a near-featureless black void, with only the numerous tiny pinpricks of light far in the distance standing out. But you aren't alone. You groan as you clear the thoughts of the Darkwraith from your mind, your head aching as

"I have lived since the dawn of the age of fire." A voice echoes around you. "I, who have witnessed firsthand the rise of Gwyn and his thrice-damned dynasty, and watched as he led this world to ruin far worse than any I could have brought upon it."

Okay, seems like you're getting a monologue now.

"But all things come to pass. I had hoped that this world would fall before me, but what is yet another disappointment when the road has been strewn with so many already?"

"You seem oddly calm." You can't help but add.

"I am already dead. There isn't much that I could do with what little of me remains now. But if it is power that you seek, then I can provide you that much."

You hesitate at the Darkwraith's words. "And why should I trust anything you'd give me?"

"Ah, are you worried about being corrupted or some such nonsense?" The remnants of the Darkwraith asks with a laugh, as it finally begins to fade away. "It's a bit late for that. You've already been 'corrupted' far more than I could ever hope to be."

"Wait, what do you mean?" You call out to the Darkwraith, who has become little more than an outline of the once solid figure.

"Do not let this farce continue, oh kindred spirit." And with that, the final remnants of the last survivor of New Londo vanish into the aether.

Wait, no! You could've asked questions or something, gotten some information maybe. But instead you got some snark from a skeleton. Or a person in a skeleton suit. You really aren't sure whether it was one or the other. You sigh, and look down to see two items laying where the Darkwraith once stood. One is a large straight sword, with a thick, broad blade that looks suited for chopping. The blade itself is made of a near-black metal, with a golden trim that has begun fading still decorating it. The hilt looks almost alive, with long growths that are almost plant-like covering much of it.

The other is something you can't help but flinch when you look at. It looks like a red glove, but if it were to be glowing, it'd be exactly like the weird hand the Darkwraith had that could form a shield, and likely almost killed you when it had grabbed your Soul Gem.

[ ] Take the Darkwraith's Blade. It's much heavier than the other swords you've found, and that might be useful to have on you. Although that hilt does make you a bit nervous...
[ ] Take the Dark Hand. You have enough swords, but a literal hand-held shield might come in hand-y. Okay, that was dumb, but the thing might be dangerous, seeing how it almost turned you back into a witch...

---

I had to get a job for the summer, and I kept getting morning shifts, and it killed all my motivation to do much of anything. Thankfully, this is my last week, so what better way to celebrate than to actually get back into the swing of things?

 

[RecurringExtra]

[X] Take the Dark Hand. You have enough swords, but a literal hand-held shield might come in hand-y. Okay, that was dumb, but the thing might be dangerous, seeing how it almost turned you back into a witch...

Carefully, you reach for the glove. The moment your hand touches it, you suddenly find yourself back in the shrine, with everyone's eyes on you.

"...Well now." Ludleth says, a genuine smile on his face. "It would seem the art will not die with me."

Hawkwood lets out a light chuckle when he sees the confusion on your face.

"W-what was THAT?!" You sputter.

"It seems thou hath managed to perform Transposition on thine own." Ludleth explains.

Huh? You did that?

"But you were the one who did the whole thing!"

"Perhaps, but that was simply the initiation of the ritual. As I said, thou didst the rest on thine own."

You turn to Hawkwood, who is torn between amusement and bemusement.

"At this point I've learned to stop asking questions when you seem to accidentally stumble onto success." He explains as he notices your stare.

"I can do things intentionally too." You grumble, before you raise your hand out. "See, look what I can do now!" Out from your hand appears the circle of darkness that the Darkwraith had been using as a shield. You wave it around, as if presenting a magic trick to an audience, which, in your mind, is basically what you're doing.

You quickly realize that this was a mistake as any sense of cheerfulness vanishes from the room, as everyone present stares in horror.

"What?" You ask.

"Sayaka, do you even know what that is?"

"A nifty shield?" You say, waving it for emphasis.

Wha- No!" Hawkwood yells, before he catches himself, swallows, and returns to a state of forced calmness. "Well, okay I guess you can consider it that, but that's not what it actually is. That is a Dark Hand." Hawkwood explains. "The tool that Darkwraiths use to drain the very being out of their victims. It's not some fun little gimmick that you parade around."

"Well, I could've chosen either the glove or that sword."

"And you didn't pick the sword?!"

"I already have a sword. I have a LOT of swords, why would I need another one?"

"I don't know, more variety or something? At least it wouldn't be a Dark Hand!"

"I didn't know what it was! I just saw that it could make a fancy schmancy hand shield, and thought that'd be useful!"

Hawkwood stares blankly at you, before he sighs. "The worst part is that I actually believe you."

"Look, I'll just take it off if it bothers you so much." You say, moving to take the glove off before the situation deteriorates any further, only to stumble upon a new issue: there is no glove. It's just your hand.

"Wait, how do I take it off?" You ask as you search over your arm in confusion.

Hawkwood continues to just stare at you, unsure if you're being serious or not.

You quickly give up, realizing that, yes, there is in fact no glove anymore.

"Well, not much I can really do now I guess." You say. "I can just not use it I guess, although I was hoping to have the shield."

"Look, just... don't use Lifedrain on anyone, okay?"

"Did you really think I was planning on doing that?" You ask.

"No, but you probably would've done it by mistake without realizing what it is."

"Hey!"

"Just try and tell me I'm wrong." Hawkwood says, before he turns to glare at a chuckling Ludleth.

"What about this is so funny?" He asks.

"Truthfully? Everything." Ludleth says with a smile. "I must thank thee both. 'Tis nice to see signs of life in this shrine once more."

Spoiler: Dark Hand

"Weapon" that reinforces the wielder with the primordial essence of mankind, allowing them to form a shield from their palm as well as evoke an art unique to Londor, the land of the Hollow. It is also said to be an ancient relic of a Primordial Serpent.
The Dark Hand mercilessly saps the very essence of its victims, taking from them that which defines them, and leaving naught but a husk filled with pain and misery. A convergent design, albeit painfully primitive in comparison.
Skill: Lifedrain
Embrace the victim and steal their HP. Can only be used against humans.

---

Afterwards, you decide to go to
[] Head out to the Road of Sacrifices. Time to get this show on the road. Heh, get it? Road...
[] Meet with the Shrine denizens: (Select one.)
-[] Check up with Greirat. The last time you saw him, he seemed... out of it, to say the least.
-[] See how Irina is doing in her little corner of the shrine.
-[] Yoel showed you how to do magic. The least you could do is stop by and say hello.
-[] Go meet with Cornyx. He seemed excited at the idea of students to teach, and you may as well indulge the old man.
-[] Go yell at Andre.
-[] Write in
[] Demon. Fight. Do it. What could go wrong?

---

Author's Note: Apologies for not including all of the previously voted bits to meet with people, but I'm going to try just writing posts one action at a time and see if that makes it easier for me. Feel free to vote for them again if you want to, of course.

 

[RecurringExtra]

-[X] Go meet with Cornyx. He seemed excited at the idea of students to teach, and you may as well indulge the old man.

After Hawkwood has satiated his need to grumble about your poor decision making, you stand up and give yourself a quick dusting.

"Heading somewhere?" Hawkwood asks, absentmindedly polishing his sword.

"I'm going to go and meet with that old guy we met back at the Settlement. I think he said his name was Cornyx?" You say, annoyedly trying to brush off the last bits of ash clinging to you. Not like it makes much of a difference, since you'll just be covered in the stuff again if you stay around here for more than a few minutes.

"Ah, him." Hawkwood says, his voice having a hint of distaste. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I don't have anything personally against people from the Great Swamp-" He begins.

"But?" You finish, to which Hawkwood narrows his eyes in mild annoyance.

"But be careful around him. That's all."

"If you're so concerned, why not come with me?

"I have other matters to attend to." Hawkwood says as an excuse. You could easily push him on this, because he very clearly has nothing better to do besides sit around and mope, but you doubt it'd be worth starting a fight over, so you simply give a short nod and start your search for the old man.

You find Cornyx to the right of Andre, down a small flight of stairs, which means that you unfortunately have to deal with the noise of his hammering as a sort of metronome of background noise. The first thing you notice, however, is the smell. It's unmistakable the scent of raw meat, but it's overpowering, and quite frankly making you feel nauseous. It's like the smell of the meat section at the supermarket, but much more extreme. What it's doing here, though, you have no idea.

Your curiosity is answered when you find a literal pile of skinned dead goats, as well as several bird corpses, scattered around Cornyx.

"Ah, there you are, Unkindled One." He says, looking up at you with a smile, although you doubt he's able to see anything with his eyes covered entirely.

"What's... happening here?" You ask, gesturing around at the animal caracasses that he's just left lying around him.

"Apologies, I got a bit ahead of myself." He says with a laugh. "This old crow hasn't had a pupil in so long, and well, I wanted to make something special out of it."
"But neither of us agreed to become your student." You say softly. On the one hand, the man is clearly overjoyed about the idea of teaching somebody, and you don't want to crush his spirits. On the other, there's no way any of this is sanitary in the slightest. That said, it is rather impressive how he's not covered in the slightest bit of blood despite the apparent carnage he must have inflicted. Come to think of it, where did he even get these animals, and did nobody notice him slaughtering them?

"Ah, but I know that at least one of you was sure to be interested, and I just couldn't help myself." He says, although you can hear a sudden strain in his voice. He's forcing himself to remain positive, and is, very successfully, guilting you into agreeing.

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt?" You eventually say, although the carnage around you leaves you nevertheless rather hesitant.

"Excellent! Oh, I'm very grateful for this, Unkindled One." He exclaims, his excitement almost palpable.

"So, is all of this... necessary for Pyromancy?" You reluctantly ask, eyeing the meat warily.

"Huh?" He seems surprised by this first question, before he seems to realize that you're referring to the scene of horror he left on display around him. "Oh, no, not by any means. As I said, I simply got ahead of myself, and..." He pauses, seemingly embarrassed. "Let's just call it a surprise for later, shall we?"

"Uh, alright, I guess?" You say, a bit weirded out. There's an awkward moment of silence, before you realize you should probably clear the air.

"So what is pyromancy exactly?" You ask. "I mean, I get that it's flinging fire around, but is that all it is?"

"Oh no, not by any means." Cornyx says. "The heart of pyromancy lies in the manipulation of chaos; of the essence of life itself."

"So where does the fire come in?"

"All life comes from the flame, yet that flame hungers to devour all it encounters." He opens the palm of his hand, and a small fire begins to burn, yet it remains safely upon it, not setting the man alight. "One must fear the flame as much as one cherishes it, lest they be consumed."

"Pyromancy comes much more naturally to people than something like sorcery or miracles, as it relies upon something common to us all: the fact that we are alive."

"So would I need something like a staff to use pyromancies like with sorcery?" You hope not. The idea of having to carry a bunch of different implements around would get annoying quickly.

"Just as pyromancies rely upon the flame of life within us, so too does the catalyst of their usage." He says. "May I see your hand?"

"What for?"

"Think of it as another surprise." Cornyx says with a smile.

Reluctantly, you offer your right hand to the old man, who seems to inspect it, although you can't be sure as, with that blindfold on, there's no way he should be able to see anything. After around a half minute he nods, seemingly satisfied, and then he sets your hand on fire.

Instinctively, you let out a scream of surprise, waving your hand around in a panic in hopes of putting the fire out. You soon realize, however, that the fire doesn't hurt, and it's not because your pain receptors have been shut off. The fire isn't spreading, merely remaining in your palm, as it did for Cornyx as he demonstrated earlier.

"Sayaka, are you alright?!" You hear Hawkwood shout, as he comes running up from whatever corner of the shrine he had been holed up in, likely to mope about something or other.

Panting as the panic starts to wear off, you nod. "I'm fine." You grumble, before turning to glare at a cackling Cornyx. "What the hell was that for?"

"I-I'm sorry," Cornyx manages to get out between wheezes. "I couldn't help it."

"What were you doing to her?" Hawkwood asks tersely, his eyes narrowed.

"I was just having a little fun." Cornyx explains, still lightly chuckling. "By the flame, existence has been so dreary lately that I'd hesitate to even call it life."

"So what, you just mess with young girls for amusement then?"

"Take a look at her hand." Cornyx retorts. A small grin remaining on his face despite the heavy tension in the air.

"What?" Hawkwood asks, still glaring at the man. When he finds no further response forthcoming, he does as he's asked, and notices the flame within your palm. He blinks a few times in surprise.

"I was gifting her a pyromancy flame of her own, but I suppose the surprise of holding a fire within one's own hand overwhelmed her sense."

"You never said that you were doing that!" You yell.

"Yes, and you reacted exactly as I'd hoped you would."

"What, as a source of entertainment?" You shoot back.

"No, with surprise and fear." Cornyx explains. "To find flame within one's grasp should invoke such feelings. As I said, one must be sure to fear the flame. If you had simply accepted it, I would have been concerned. If you had been excited, I would have refused to teach you any further."

"So you're saying this was a test?"

"Yes, although I won't deny that it was also quite amusing." Cornyx says, his face splitting into a wide grin..

Hawkwood stares silently at the old man, before he groans, and glares at Corynx.

"You had best not do anything else to screw with her, understood?"

"Very well. I've had my fill of fun, so no need to be worried." Cornyx says, matching Hawkwood's gaze. Eventually, Hawkwood seems satisfied, and turns to leave.

"Bloody swampmen." He grumbles as he walks away, likely to go back to his usual sulking.

Once Hawkwood is out of earshot, you turn back to Cornyx.

"Earlier, Hawkwood mentioned that people from some swamp or whatever were usually exiles or something, and was warning me to be careful."

Cornyx lets out a wry chuckle. "Truthfully, your friend isn't completely wrong."

"It still feels wrong to just pre-judge people before they've done anything though."

"That is true, but beliefs such as that are usually built on half-truths and assumptions. You see, many of those who leave the Great Swamp are, as he says, the exiles; the dregs of our home that have either broken law or tradition and have been forsaken because of it." Cornyx explains. "However, just as many are those that have themselves forsaken their birthplace to seek out the wider world. It is understandable to have some reservations, and his are much more mild than what I've become accustomed to over my years of life."

"Worse than that?" So what... Then the realization that just because you're in a seeming fictional world does not mean something as common to mankind as racism would simply up and vanish into thin air. It isn't exactly a topic that you have much familiarity with. The closest thing you have to personal experience is that one half-Brazilian family who tried to move into the same apartment building as your family, only to be rejected, although it was only later that you learned the exact reason as to why.""Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"You're a kind girl, and I thank you for that." Cornyx says. "But in your friend's case, I suppose I am the one who has the last laugh. After all, our homes now have much in common."

"What do you mean by that?"

Cornyx simply smiles. "I can recognize a member of the Farron Legion easily enough. As for the similarities, well, if you're unaware, then I'll leave it as a surprise for you both."

"What's with you and surprises?" You ask.

"It's fun to keep people guessing." He says. "Now, before we get started, I should clarify now that, if you wish for me to teach you any advanced pyromancies, I will require pyromancy tomes. I doubt that you have the desire to learn pyromancies the hard way, after all."

"So is there anything that you can teach me now?" You ask.

"We can go over the most basic of pyromancies. For now, how about the most simple: the classic fireball." He smiles. "It's exactly what it sounds like, a ball of fire. There's no real trick to this one. Simply conjure the flames within your hand and toss them at your target."

You look at your now burning right hand, and focus. It takes some effort, as you aren't sure what you should be focusing on exactly, but after some trial and error you're able to get the flames within your palm to begin to ignite that much fiercer.

"Excellent work!" Cornyx says, a bit of surprise in his voice. "Now, focus on keeping the fires burning, and let them loose!"

You do as he says, and with a flick of your wrist, a glob of fire is sent tossing into one of the nearby puddles of water, quickly sizzling out on impact. It's... rather lackluster, truth be told, but seeing as it was your first real attempt, that isn't too surprising.

"Hm..." Cornyx seems to be thinking as he stares at your performance. "It was a good first attempt, but you need some practice. Here, let me show you how it's done." He lifts his palm, and the fire in his hand bursts into roaring life, and with a quick motion a ball of fire goes flying into a nearby puddle, throwing up a huge burst of steam into the air.

As you stare, silently impressed, he chuckles. "Now, let's have you try again, shall we?"

---

Spoiler: Pyromancy Flame

Flame catalyst passed down from master to student since antiquity. Allows for one to harness the power of fire through the art of Pyromancy.
The chaos flame is now little more than smoldering embers, much like its parent. Nonetheless, its influence upon the world is still felt, as dim as it may be.

"This shall be a gift from my people to yours, for the old arts are dead, and now any who wish may learn to harness the flame."

Skill: Combustion
Creates a powerful flame in the wielder's hand. One of the most basic pyromancies, and for this very reason, the flame created is fierce. Works while equipped in either hand.

Spoiler: Fireball

Elementary pyromancy that is often the first learned. Hurls a fireball.
Pyromancies originated from flame sorceries, and were seen by some as a bastardized form of the art. Yet it was that very bastardization that saw it supplant the original.

---

After your lesson, you decide to...
[] Head out to the Road of Sacrifices. Time to get this show on the road. Heh, get it? Road...
[] Meet with the Shrine denizens: (Select one.)
-[] Check up with Greirat. The last time you saw him, he seemed... out of it, to say the least.
-[] See how Irina is doing in her little corner of the shrine.
-[] Write in
[] Demon. Fight. Do it. What could go wrong?

---

So much for shorter updates. That said, focusing on singular scenes at a time is definitely much easier than the strange balancing act I was focused on before trying to throw in as much progress into an update as I could. That being said, I'm going to also try and open up more incentive for write ins, rather than including a bunch of options that are vague and I'd really have no idea what to write for, such as visiting Andre, the Shrine Handmaid or somebody else out of nowhere. If you'd like to go and see anyone not specified in the voting options, just provide a reason as to why to go with it. This isn't pressure to go and go and do that necessarily, just an explanation as to why some voting options are missing from before.

Also, Sayaka now has the Pyromancy Flame in one hand and the Dark Hand in the other, so that's fun.

 

[RecurringExtra]

With your business with Cornyx concluded, you consider stopping by to check in on Greirat. The last time you saw him, well, it left you a bit worried. When you catch sight of him, however, you find him curled up in a ball, muttering to himself. You figure you should give him a bit more time to process his grief. Maybe. You aren't a psychologist, nor a grief counselor, although if that were taken literally it'd be very nice for a magical girl to have. Hell, just having Madoka around for you made things easier. At least until you pushed her away when you started to hit your lowest points.

Come to think of it, when was the last time you and Madoka even had a fight? Maybe back in the third grade, when you accidentally forgot to do your part for that group assignment. While it was mostly Hitomi who was mad, what really stung was finding out that Madoka had done your portion of the project herself.

Clearing your head of memories, you try and get back on track. Before you meet back up with Hawkwood, you stop and say hello to the Firekeeper, and she performs her weird ritual on your soul gem with no complaints. After thanking her, you head over to the bonfire and find Hawkwood tapping his foot, although since he's standing on ash there's a noticeable lack of a satisfying tapping noise.

"You alright there?"

Hawkwood flinches in response to your voice, evidently having gotten lost in his own thoughts. "Ah, yes, sorry." He says, before clearing his throat. "Just a bit, I don't know, nervous I suppose?"

"About what?"

"We're nearly at Farron, and, well, I'm still technically a deserter of the legion. I have no idea what's going to happen when we get there." He sighs. "Ideally I'd be able to get us both through the forest-grounds without much trouble, so we wouldn't have to deal with the Watchdogs."

"By the name, I'm guessing they're some sort of guard?" You ask.

"They're one of the lower ranks of the Legion, below the Abyss Watchers. I spent a few years as a Watchdog myself before I worked my way up to the rank."

"Alongside the Followers, the other group you mentioned, right?"

"There's also the simple soldiery of the Legion, as well as everyone who works in actually running the thing. Logistics was much easier with everyone being undead, but somebody still had to keep things organized."

So there were bureaucrats for a group of suicidal zombie warriors? It makes sense, but actually thinking about it feels rather lame. Reality always has to be disappointing.

"Oh, right!" You exclaim, excited as you remember something. "Check out what I can do!"

"Hm?" Hawkwood raises an eyebrow, a bit curious.

You raise both of your hands. In your left the dark hand appears, a deep red-and-black glow emitting from your palm. In your right, in contrast, a burst of flame comes into being, lighting up the room a tad bit more than the dreary gray that had continued to dominate it.

"Ta-da!" You shout.

Hawkwood stares at you in horror.

"What?"

"Please... don't do that when we get to Farron. That's all I ask." He says, genuinely pleading with you.

"Uh... okay?"

"Look, let's just go, okay." He says, gesturing towards the bonfire.

Huh. He wants to leave the shrine. Normally, this would be a victory of some kind, but you get the feeling that it really isn't. Ah well.

Well, you thought it was cool...

---

After a quick warp through the bonfire, you find yourself back outside the Settlement's tower. Come to think of it, what even is this building, really? You kind of assumed it was a church or something, but there's not really any room for prayer or anything like that. Maybe the lower levels could be used for that, but why have the religious area be on a lower level than where everyone lived? You really have no clue what purpose this building actually served.

"It's only been a few hours, but I swear it feels like years since we got here." Hawkwood idly comments.

"What are you talking about?"

Hawkwood shrugs. "Just an odd feeling."

Weird. Issues with his perception of time aside (actually, how long was he just sitting around in the shrine for anyway?) you figure you must be getting close to Farron by this point.

"Any clue how far away we are from that Farron place?" You ask.

"If I remember correctly, we should be maybe a few hours' walk from the outskirts of Farron Woods, although that was before reality started folding in on itself."

"I still don't get how everyone seems fine with that happening."

"That's just the way it is. It's not like there's anything we can do about it beyond linking the fire."

"So how long a walk do you think it'll actually be?" You ask.

"Who knows." Hawkwood shrugs. "Maybe half an hour, maybe a few minutes. Maybe all of 20 seconds. It's impossible to say."

You turn back around and gaze up at the top of the tower where the giant you'd met earlier was. You can't see him from this angle, but it's a bit comforting knowing you have somebody watching your back, although how he's able to do that you still don't understand. Not that you're complaining, considering the size of the arrows he's firing.

"You ready to go?" You ask Hawkwood.

"Right behind you." Hawkwood says with a nod.

The two of you pass by a massive tree and wrap around a corner in the rockface, noting the large number of red leaves that paint the ground like a fungal growth. You find yourself on a narrow cliff over what looks to be an enormous forest down below.

"Is that Farron down there?"

Hawkwood leans over the edge to take a look himself, before he sighs. "So much for twenty seconds." He murmurs. "No, this is still the outskirts. Besides," hes gestures to the enormous building covering the horizon. "If we were in Farron proper, the Cathedral wouldn't cover the skyline to such an extent."

He isn't wrong. The building, which must be the so-called Cathedral of the Deep, dominates the horizon. While not as large as the ever-distant High Wall of Lothric, which you can still see even now, the building is still huge. You're no expert on Churches, seeing as the only one you'd ever been to before all of this was run-down and abandoned, but even you know that something this big is a bit much for a place of worship. Seriously, how much did it cost to build that thing?

"Ghhhrrrrruhh..." Your thoughts are interrupted by a guttural growling off to the side. You and Hawkwood turn to see a hunched over pale man cowering in the shade of a nearby tree.

You turn to look at Hawkwood, who's already drawn his sword. In the past, you would've been a bit more hesitant to come out with your weapons bared, but it really can't hurt to be prepared, just in case...

With a flick of your wrist you find a blade in your hand, something which you're finding yourself to be more and more comfortable with. Both you and Hawkwood edge closer to the figure, who continues their growling at you.

"We don't want to fight." You try to calmly explain as you take cautious steps forward. "Please, just let us through."

As you get closer, you notice the blank face of the figure. They're looking in your direction, but their eyes are completely blank. With every step you take, their growls become more and more guttural and course, and their body begins to jitter and spasm violently. You both stop and watch in horror as the sound of cracking bones and reknitting flesh accompany the figure's body rearranging itself in a nightmarish fashion. Dark, feathery wings erupt from their back, while their neck seems to elongate. Their back hunches over further, and a strange sort of high pitched almost chirp-like quality mixes in with their deep painful groaning.

The figure rushes you in a sudden frenzy, screeching wildly at you with a voice filled with hate.

Live Action Train-wreck (Sayaka): 2 vs 3
Baffled Silence (Hawkwood): 97 vs 3​

The loud noise is surprising, but not as surprising as the tree root you hadn't noticed, causing you to trip and fall flat on your face. Thankfully, your fall is cushioned by a pile of leaves that are sent flying with your impact.

The bird... person... thing is probably just as surprised as you are, as you feel its taloned feet hit you, followed by its own weight collapsing on top of you as it manages to trip over your body. There's a sound of flesh parting, and the shrieking suddenly falls silent.

"Ugh," you grunt, as you push the now-corpse off of yourself, not enjoying the absolutely revolting smell coming from it. You look up to see an amused Hawkwood staring at you as he sheaths his own sword.

"What?" You grumble, accepting his hand when he reaches to help you back up.

"You alright there?" He asks, a slight smirk on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You grumble, trying (and failing) to not pout in displeasure.

"Well, you're certainly better than that thing " He says, gesturing towards the bird-person corpse that is still lying next to you, something which you promptly distance yourself from because ew.

"Any idea what it is?" You ask. It's obviously some sort of bird-person hybrid thing, what with the wings and the talons, but why did the wings erupt out of its back? And what was with all that screeching?

"None. Can't say I've seen any bird people..." He freezes, realization dawning. "Wait, bird people..." He seems to think for a moment, before shaking his head. "I can't remember. It's been too long."

You gaze down at the road ahead, and spot four more of these weird bird people crouched around an overturned coach. It looks like they might be talking to one another, but judging by the first one you met, they clearly have no intention of talking with you.

---

[] Try and sneak up on the group. Of course, if they spot you, they're the ones who'll end up getting the drop on you.

[] Charge at them directly. You won't benefit from the element of surprise, but you won't have to worry too much about them noticing you trying to sneak up on them.

[] Write in (Want to use magic or something similar? Maybe go back and fight the demon for some ungodly reason? That's what this is for!)

---

To anyone who actually cares about formatting, my apologies for having very little consistency.

 

[RecurringExtra]

Carefully dropping down from the ledge you'd found yourselves on, you and Hawkwood get ready to attack, before you pause. Looking down, you spot a small shiny white stone, and reach down to pick it up.

"What's a Shriving Stone doing just lying around here?" Hawkwood asks when he notices the rock in your hand.

"Is it useful?" You ask.

"You need them to reverse infusions of weapons, so it does have a use, technically." He says.

Spoiler: Shriving Stone

A gem of infused titanite. Also known as stark stone.

Reverses weapon infusion.
This stone serves little purpose beyond undoing a smith's hard labor. It is of little surprise that few ever bother with such a material.

Returning your attention to the group up ahead, you luckily find they haven't noticed you yet, meaning you might be able to at least surprise them, even if you aren't actually trying to sneak up on them.

Swift Strike (Sayaka): 83 v 31
Lagging Behind (Hawkwood): 39 v 42​

You rush forward, having the barest sliver of the element of surprise on your side still, as despite any real effort on trying to conceal yourself, the group of birdmen has still failed to notice your approach until it's too late. The first, who you assume to be the leader of the group judging by its height and its large staff, has little time to react before there's a blade piercing through its lungs. It falls limp, a small cloud of purple gas exhaled from its mouth before it hits the ground.

The three survivors quickly react to your attack, all of them howling and groaning as the same nightmarish transformation overtakes them, with wings ripping their way out of their body.

While you find success, Hawkwood, lagging behind, is slower, and his target leaps up above his swing, launching itself into an attempted pounce onto the man. Hawkwood is forced to drop his sword as he's shoved to the ground, wrestling for control with the birdman. Unfortunately, you can't just run over and help, no matter how much you want to, as the swinging scythe blade you narrowly avoid is quick to remind you.

Mindless Aggression (Sayaka): 32 v 66
Old Reflexes (Hawkwood): 100 v 58​

While you were able to take the first target out with little effort, the other two currently on you aren't going to let that happen to them so easily. One wields the aforementioned large scythe, while the other has a large jagged dagger it seems keen on sinking into your flesh. You struggle to find an opening between the raging onslaught of blows the two launch at you as they stab and swipe with a desperation born out of madness. Your newly acquired darkhand proves its worth, letting you deflect what would have been a stab into your neck into merely being a cut on your arm, but it struggles more against the scythe. While it looks rather awkward to handle, that awkwardness is what makes dealing with it so annoying, as every swing is an attack to your flank. While you manage to dodge several swings, you hiss as the scythe-head pierces into your side, quickly numbing away the pain before it can overwhelm you.

To your confusion, the constant attacks suddenly stop. Looking up, you watch as the scythe wielder collapses to the ground clutching at its now slit open throat, joining the dagger wielder with a hole through their heart. Standing behind them is a panting Hawkwood, who wipes at his forehead with his hand.

"Damn it, I wasn't quick enough." He says with a groan of frustration upon seeing your condition.

"You had your own problem to deal with." You say, although having a blade stabbed into you kind of makes the point a bit hollow.

"Yeah, I had to kick the bastard off of me. Luckily, I wasn't out of options." He says, sheathing his oddly curved dagger. "So, do you... want a hand with that?" He asks, eyeing the scythe uncomfortably.

"If you wouldn't mind." You say, oddly relieved that you aren't on the opposite side in this situation.

Grabbing ahold of the scythe's shaft, Hawkwood yanks it out of your side. You focus on the wound, glad that you can't actually see it directly see it, and let your magic flow through your body. Hawkwood watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as the newly opened wound knits itself back together in front of his eyes.

[Gained 150 Corruption.]
[150/2250]​

"That doesn't get any less horrifying to witness." Hawkwood says with a shudder, to which you can only really shrug. There isn't much you can do about it, after all.

Getting back to your feet, you eye the broken down carriage off to the side of the road.

"I guess they weren't too eager to see anyone." You mutter as you eye the wreckage.

"I wouldn't be too sure." Hawkwood says, taking a closer look himself. "These were transports, likely made to bring sacrifices to Aldritch."

"So you think they're escapees?"

"Some of them, maybe? It depends on if we run into any more of them."

With that, you and Hawkwood continue on, but not before you pocket another solidified soul you spot lying by the carriage. It's only a few steps past the carriage, however, when you pause, finding a fork in the road (of Sacrifices.) The path ahead splits into two directions. To your left is a path along a ledge to a lower level, which seems to lead to a dead end, although you see the glint of metal at the far end. To the right seems to be the path forward, although you hear the faint groans of more bird men. Guess there really are more of them after all.

Spoiler: Soul of an Unknown Traveler

Soul found in the corpse of an unknown traveler.
Who they were, and what their destination or goal may have been will never be known; only where they could no longer continue on.

---

[] Head down the ledge and see what you find. Shiny sparkles are hard to resist...

[] Continue on the Road (of Sacrifices).

[] Head back and fight the demon. You never know when you'll lose this chance for a Great Idea!

---

150/2250 Corruption​

 

[RecurringExtra]

"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.

85 vs 89
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​

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.

Spoiler: Brigand Twindaggers

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.

"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.

Spoiler: Braille Divine Tome of Carim

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.

"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.

 

[RecurringExtra]

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

---

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.

 

[RecurringExtra]

"Could you give us one moment?" Hawkwood asks.

"I'd only ask that you don't take too long, if you wouldn't mind. We're by no means in a rush, but I feel there's been enough waiting around for a lifetime as it is." Anri says.

"Much appreciated." Hawkwood says, before dragging you to the other side of the courtyard.

"Is something the matter?" You ask.

"No, but don't you think having a conversation like this right in front of somebody would feel rude?" Hawkwood poses.

"I mean, I guess" you say with a shrug. " So do you have an issue with us joining them?"

"Honestly? For the most part, no. The more hands the better, although that other fellow, Horace, does seem a bit... odd."

"I'm not sure if you really have much room to talk there." You reply, to which he merely rolls his eyes.

"You're not wrong, but there's just something about him that seems off, and no, it's not the fact that he isn't talking. I just can't put my finger on it. Keep an eye on him, is all."

"What, do you think he'll attack us or something?

"I don't think that, no, but you can never really know." He says. "So I assume by your earlier question that you have no problem with them either?"

"No problems by me. It'll be nice to have other people around. Maybe they won't be as depressing as you."

"I prefer to see it as maintaining realistic expectations."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." You say with a smile, before you head back over to Anri and Horace. Hawkwood joins you a moment later, still looking a bit annoyed.

"Alright, sorry about that." Hawkwood apologizes, rubbing his neck. "I just wanted to clarify a few things beforehand. We'd be happy to go with you."

"You see Horace? I told you that they weren't going to just run off on us." Anri says, turning to her silent companion. Horace raises his hands in the air, seemingly as a sign of surrender.

"What, you thought we'd actually say no?" You ask.

"I didn't, but Horace doesn't trust people very easily. It's..." Anri pauses when Horace glares at them. At least you assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell with the face covering helmet. "...a long story. Suffice it to say, it's for a good reason." When no further context is provided, Hawkwood just gives a slow nod.

"Well, alright then."

"So, as I said, up ahead we have the Crucifixion Woods." Anri begins.

"You mentioned that earlier." Hawkwood says, confused. "What's something so ghastly doing in the hinterlands of Farron?"

"Apparently there were fears of a beast plague, from what little I know. The choice to crucify victims is one that I can't say I fully understand."

"What the hell is a 'beast plague'?" Hawkwood asks.

"I don't claim to understand it myself, but I believe it had something to do with wolf blood, or something like that." Anri explains.

Hawkwood doesn't respond, instead simply thinking to himself. He looks a bit unsettled, but seems to choose not to say anything.

"After that, we should arrive almost immediately at the Cathedral. The place is likely to be packed with madmen, so I'll hope the two of you are ready for a fight."

"Why can't there be more people like those Corvians? It'd be nice to go somewhere and not have to slaughter everyone present."

"Even if we had a choice in the matter, do you really think allowing the monsters in the Cathedral to continue living would be wise?"

"If it means we could continue on sooner? Absolutely." Hawkwood says without a moment of hesitation. Our primary goal is hunting down the Lords of Cinder; all else is secondary. Besides, a frontal assault on a fortified target like this would be a terrible idea, and that's if we had an army to back us up. If we had the option to avoid the risk, why wouldn't we take it?"

"Because the creatures there are monsters that can't be allowed to live." Anri hisses.

"There are a lot of monsters in this world. Throwing your life away on a fool's errand like that just to kill a few of them is noble, yes. Heroic even. It's the kind of thing that I'd expect from the Legion."

"Then why would you be opposed to it?"

"Because the Legion was full of idiots with hero complexes who were all too happy to get themselves killed." Hawkwood explains, before relaxing somewhat. "It's a rather moot point, though. One of our targets should be in the Cathedral, and I doubt he's going to be accepting guests willingly, so we have little choice but stupid heroics. And with the four of us together? We just might be able to take one of them down, if we get lucky."

"Woah, hold on," you say, interrupting, " since when did you feel positive about anything?" Honestly, that would have been pretty cool of him to say, if he hadn't added that last bit at the end. It really killed the mood, which is rather fitting considering who it was that said it.

"The key word there is might. I still doubt our chances, truthfully, but I doubt they're going to be getting better than this." He sighs. "I already know that you'd be trying to hunt them down alone if you had to, and I can't just let you get yourself killed. So if we really are going to do this, then this is the best shot we'll be getting." Anri pauses, before giving a nod.

"Allow me to apologize for that earlier outburst of mine. I... was concerned that you were leading that conversation in a very different direction."

"What I said earlier is how I feel on the matter, but how I feel on the matter is irrelevant to the reality of the situation. If our only option is to run face first into a brick wall, then she," he gestures towards you, "would be trying to break it down before anyone else."

"Wha-, hey!" You yell out, much to Hawkwood's amusement. You shoot him a glare, only to hear a light snicker come from Anri. "Oh, not you too?"

"Sorry, as I said before, I haven't gotten to experience anything like this in a very long long time." Anri says. "It's refreshing to be reminded of such things."

With the tension having quickly been dispelled, everyone gets ready to continue the journey. Before you do, you put your hand over the nearby bonfire, and watch as the flames erupt from it. It, like so much else, may not make much sense beyond 'magic', but you're okay with this part. It's pretty cool.

"Let's get moving, shall we?" Anri says after a few minutes of preparation, and you can picture them smiling. Kind of. You honestly can't actually picture their face, you really have no clue what they might look like, but still.

As you move through the archway, you're struck by what you see in the distance. You have a clear view of Farron Woods, and the three flaming towers spread amongst them. If it weren't for the layer of fog in the air, you'd imagine it'd be purely green from here to the giant rising rock that holds up Lothric. You aren't the only one struck by the sight either. You can hear Hawkwood audibly inhale at the sight, freezing up almost completely as he stares out at what was once his home. It takes Anri a moment to notice the sudden hold up, but they quickly turn around.

"I hope you aren't having second thoughts already." Anri says, though there's a hint of amusement in their voice. They clearly aren't being serious.

"Wuh..." Hawkwood blinks, realizing that he'd stopped completely in his tracks. "Oh, uh, um, sorry." He swallows nervously, before finally breaking his gaze. "It's been a long time, and now that I'm close..."

"Don't worry, the sooner we get through the Cathedral, the sooner we can head over there. How's that sound?"Anri says, patting Hawkwood on the back. Hawkwood takes another deep breath, before giving Anri a nod.

"Yeah... yeah." is his reply. Not exactly the most thought provoking on its own, but you can guess he has a lot of thoughts going on through his head as it is. If you saw Mitakihara off in the distance right now, you aren't sure how'd you feel either. Well, it'd probably be a lot weirder, since it'd be so out of place, but... this didn't work as well as you'd hoped.

"It still feels so wrong, though." Hawkwood says, interrupting your train(wreck) of consciousness.

"What does?" Anri asks.

"It took me some time to realize, but that was the old border outpost." he says, gesturing behind him to the ruined fortress, "The issue is that the distances are all off. The Cult of the Deep was several days' travel from Farron proper, and the outpost should be around two days from the Keep."

"Didn't you say that the Cathedral was on the outskirts of Farron?" You point out, remembering an earlier conversation on the topic. "Outskirts implies it'd be kind of close, doesn't it?"

"I meant on the outskirts of the area controlled by the Farron Legion. At its height, we... the Legion was massive, and while it never held enough territory under its influence to be recognized as a nation in its own right, it may as well have been for all intents and purposes." He explains. "But that's just the start. For one, the presence of the High Wall, looming over Farron like a mountain that simply shouldn't be there. And this isn't even mentioning the fact that the 'Cathedral' of the Deep is even a thing." Both Anri and Horace stiffen up somewhat in response to the mention of the place.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Anri asks, their voice hardened.

"I remember the group of isolationist priests who guarded their self proclaimed holy site that they called 'the Deep', and there was nothing like the massive building or the amount of support that they now seem to have back then. There also wasn't any cannibalism nonsense and what not, it was just a group of people that wished to be left alone with their faith. I mean, they were suspected of having Abyssal ties numerous times, but there was never even the slightest bit of proof found beyond the accusations. Either they were just that good at hiding it, or they were working to keep the Abyss suppressed, because there's clearly something there that's gone out of control." He shakes his head. "And now they're a crazed cult of cannibals worshiping a giant ball of slime." He pauses briefly, seeming to realize something. "My apologies, I should stop wasting our time with useless recollections."

"It's alright" Anri turns to look at Horace, who gives a nod in return. "That's actually rather useful information. From what we'd known, the Cathedral has always been a cesspit of cruelty."

"I can't say I knew much of their practices, but they never seemed to be awful people, just rather cagey towards outsiders."

With one final glance at Farron, Hawkwood joins the rest of you as you all finally begin moving, heading down the pathway that leads to the so-called Road of Sacrifices. It's about time that you finally arrived there, you idly think to yourself as you round a corner on the slope down. That is, unless the earlier section was also part of the Road of Sacrifices, in which case you'd already arrived. You really aren't sure of the specifics of where exactly it would actually begin, but the specifics are kind of irrelevant in your mind the moment you spot a hollowed man carrying a pointy tree.

In the place of any sort of practical weapon, it's... a sharpened log. A thin, twisted and fairly gnarly log, likely from what was once a young tree or a particularly large branch, but still a log. What?

"Beasts... bloody beasts..." The man murmurs to himself, before he seems to notice your group. "Eh? You lot beasts too?" Before any of you can even reply, he's already started charging at you with his makeshift spear. More specifically, charging at Hawkwood, judging by where it's pointing.

The moment he's in range, Horace has already pierced his heart with the spike atop his halberd. Stiffly, the man collapses to the ground.

"Damn... the legion..." He manages to rasp out before falling still.

"I guess you really aren't that popular, huh Hawkwood?" You start, before seeing the look on his face.

"...He was a member too."

"What?" Anri asks.

"Not everyone in the Legion was a combatant. What's going on he-"

Before he can finish, Hawkwood's interrupted by a loud groaning noise. You all turn to look and see another hollow with a tree further down the path, who is quickly joined in by a mass of gurgling noises as a practical horde of stick wielding hollows lurch over towards your group.

[Four on Twenty: 74 + 20 (Four Player Co-Op is Very Fair) = 94/100]​

To call what follows a "battle" wouldn't really be fair. When Hawkwood said that these weren't combatants, he was clearly being serious. None of them seem to have much experience in combat, judging by how, in their hollowed state, they can do little more than amble over towards you with their pointy sticks at the ready. Anri and Horace both step forward, in one hand holding their respective polearms, and the other a shield, with Horace having a small circular shield to Anri's large kite shield. While Anri's weapon is rather silly, it's still a deadly weapon, as proven as they cut out the throats of several hollows in a single swing. Horace, meanwhile, doesn't put much effort into finesse, although judging by how he took out the hollow before, it isn't from a lack of capability. Instead, he uses his halberd's axehead to chop through the horde, blood and viscera scattering around. After his first swing, he stows away his shield and switches to a two handed grip, seeming to realize that there isn't much of a need to worry about protection.

Unfortunately, Hawkwood seems a bit... off right now, but thankfully, all the two really need is a bit of help, owing to the fact that they're fighting on an inclined slope against a bunch of hollows armed with wood. You summon a few swords, and pull the triggers on them, the blades flying forward and impaling themselves into the hollows who the other two hadn't been able to get to as quickly.

(3000 Souls Gained)
(+15 Corruption)​

All in all, the 'fight' if you can call it that is over in about ten or so seconds, after which Hawkwood seems to finally free himself from the daze he had fallen into.

"Ah, crap." He says with a shake of his head. In truth, it'd basically been just a brief hesitation, but he clearly seemed embarrassed by it. "I really need to shape up. Not exactly giving off a good first impression, am I?"

"Frankly, if you keep acting like that, me and Horace are going to start putting our trust in the child over you." Anri says, to which you try your best not to get annoyed about, because they're probably just saying it to make a point. It's hard though. You have a name, after all, and referring to you like that is rather rude.

"Is everybody just fine with a girl her age being exposed to things like..." He stops, likely determining the answer to that question before he even finishes it, and doubtlessly hating it. "Forget it. I won't let myself slip up again." He says, before heading forward. Horace glances over at Anri and then you, before moving up to join him.

"Is he always like this?" Anri asks.

"I mean, he's been gloomy ever since I met him, but this is a lot, even for him." You say with a shrug.

"I imagine that this is not going to be a very fun homecoming for him." Anri says with a shake of their head, before continuing on, with you quickly joining.

Up ahead, you spot Hawkwood having paused again, this time kneeling down to examine the swampy ground. At least he doesn't seem to be blankly staring at it.

"The wetlands shouldn't be starting here." He mutters as you walk up. "They're several miles in, well past the Keep." He stands back up and turns his head to look at the ever thickening tree line that blocks sight up ahead. "I suppose it isn't just distance that's being messed with, but position as well."

How is this an idea that people can just accept as being possible? Saying 'Oh yeah, looks like a few miles just ceased to exist again' should get you assigned to a psych ward, not just be something you're able to shrug off. How does distance even disappear? You could easily shrug it off if it was just stuff having vanished. That would be weird, but you've seen weirder. Hell, you've been weirder. Maybe the position swapping he mentioned is what's really going on? In fact, yeah, from now on you're going with that. It's weird, but at least it's the kind of weird you can wrap your head around.

Off in the distance, you can see what looks like several creatures with red eyes. They're chained up to a bunch of crosses, although there's a big circle in the middle so they're a different kind of cross, or something. You're guessing that's where this place gets its name from. Still, the things look pretty big, and you don't see a reason to get near them. Instead, your small group continues through the woods, eventually finding a bonfire located on a small hill nearby. You reach down and light it, ignoring just how close it is to the previous one, because lighting these things is still cool.

---

[ ] Continue heading for the Cathedral of the Deep.
[ ] Head back to Firelink Shrine.
-[] For? (Write In)
[ ] You have extra people now. The only thing stopping you from beating that demon now is common sense, but who needs that when you can go and fight a big monster? You'd probably have to somehow convince Anri and Horace, but you're sure you could do that!
-[ ] How do you convince Anri and Horace to help in this waste of time heroic task? (Write in)
[ ] Okay, there's clearly something happening with Farron. Maybe heading there first would be a good idea?
-[ ] How do you convince Anri and Horace to agree to the detour? (Write in)
[ ] Write in

---

190/2250 Corruption
7881 Souls​

---

God, I really hate how much of this area is just a fucking Bloodborne reference.

Also, if you actually want to try and do either of the two options, you're going to have to come up with a good enough explanation to try and convince Anri and Horace.

 

[RecurringExtra]

The cool, humid air is thick with fog, which seems to rise from the swamp waters down below you. You figure this place could be called the foggy swamp and it would fit fine, but after glancing around, you quickly come to understand the real reason that this place is called the crucifixion woods. Pretty much everywhere you look, old, moldy wooden crucifixes are staked into the muddy ground, most of which are beginning to fall apart from the wear and tear caused by time.

"Why are there so many?" You can't help but ask. "Did they really use all of these?"

"I doubt anyone would ever need this many. It's a waste of wood at this point, although I suppose it isn't like wood is a concern in and of itself." Hawkwood says, gazing at the numerous trees in the area. He leans over to look closer at one of the crucifixes. "Not professionally made by any means either."

"With all of the moss and decay, these things must be rather old, although how old I can't say." Anri adds. "Anyone here by any chance study natural philosophy enough to determine such things?"Hawkwood shakes his head, and while you don't know what 'natural philosophy' is, you're guessing they're talking about science stuff. Unfortunately, you always hated STEM, so you also shake your head, although you're assuming that nobody was expecting you to be of much use here. Considering you come from a place so much more advanced technologically than here, you'd think that might be of some use, but seeing as you've been assigned to what amounts to a manhunt, it hasn't really mattered much. All you know for sure is that you miss the nice stuff like AC and TV.

While nobody is looking, you take a moment to try out a dumb idea that popped into your head. You reach over and touch one of the big sticks to see if, maybe, just maybe, they might count as a sword.

Nothing happens. You aren't sure why you feel disappointed by this.

"Sayaka, you okay there?" Hawkwood calls out.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" You all but shout out, shooting back up from leaning over to straight backed as quickly as you can manage, while Hawkwood just stares, before shaking his head and glancing out into the distance.

From the hill you found the bonfire on, you're able to get a look at the nearby swamp. The water is actually rather clean, or at the very least clean enough to be clear, much to your relief. Normally when you think of a swamp, the image that comes to mind is thick murky water full of who knows what. Besides the swamp itself, there's also everything living inside of it. Many of the trees are huge, towering up high into the air, alongside many thinner and shorter ones that seem to grow in between the larger ones. Many of the trees grow out from the swamp itself as well as along its shorelines. Of course, there aren't just trees off in the distance that you see.

"Is that a crab?" You rub at your eyes, only to confirm that, yes, there is a giant crab in the middle of the swamp.

"Ah, the Farron Great-Crab. I haven't seen one of those in years." Hawkwood says with a genuine smile. The expression looks wrong on his face.

"But it's a crab." You say, as if that alone was enough to explain what you meant. When the other three pause to look at you, you hesitantly continue. "Crabs live in the ocean, right?"

"There are plenty of freshwater crabs as well, and besides, there are even some kinds of crabs that can live on land. You are staring at one right now, after all." Anri adds, gesturing over towards the huge creature that seems to be minding its own business. Were there any like that back on Earth? Well, there were definitely none that big, but were there land crabs? Probably, now that you actually think about it. If something like a flying fish could exist, then a land crab seems normal by comparison.

You survey the area for a bit longer, spotting several different locations nearby. To your left is a huge stone structure that looks like it's falling apart, although that isn't exactly unique as pretty much everything around here seems to be in similar condition. Dead ahead, beyond the crab (and the many other smaller crabs that dot the area that you've since noticed) is another stone structure, although you see what looks like two outlines of people standing in front. Maybe guards of some kind? Lastly, a third set of ruins lies in the far corner that you've already passed, although the path seems to be blocked by several of those huge crucified guys with red eyes. You doubt that they're actually guards, but they may as well be. The number of things that have actually proven to be friendly since you showed up here barely reaches the double digits, while the number of things that have been hostile is likely well into the triple digits at this point.

"Seeing as the Keep is, in theory, up ahead, the way to the Cathedral should be..." He turns to look at the large building to your left "...through the Sage's academy, or at least what's left of it."

"So, the rumors of the Legion managing to recruit one of the Crystal Sages was true then?" Anri asks.

"Woah, woah, slow down." You say. "What do you mean 'sage's academy'?"

"It was where the mages of the Farron Legion were trained. Farron did have its own mages, believe it or not."

"So what, you guys had crazy flipping swordsmen, spear chucking bladedancers, and now also your own mages as well? What did Farron not have?"

"A functional government, a stable economy, a large population, any real urban centers..." Hawkwood begins to list off dispassionately, much to Anri's seeming amusement judging by the snickering.

"You weren't supposed to answer that!" You yell back.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answered then." Hawkwood says with a slight smirk.

"From what I know, Farron was mostly a land of drifters, correct?" Anri asks, turning to Hawkwood.

"For the most part, yes." Hawk replies. "Not many people originally lived around here, and most new arrivals were undead who'd come to join the Legion, which kept anyone without the curse from wanting to come themselves, despite all of the open land."

"If there were so few people, then how did Farron have enough influence to maintain its borders?"

"Fear of reprisal played a large role, but the few places where regular humans actually lived tended to be located near the supposed borders with the Keep located in the center, which was how any real idea of a border came to be. The only real dealings the local populace had with the Legion was the agreement of protection for toleration of their presence, and even that wasn't a happy exchange."

"Few people want anything to do with the Undead." Anri says softly, to which Horace seems to place his hand gently on their shoulder.

"And fewer still wanted anything to do with the Legion." Hawkwood says, although he lacks anyone to provide him the same measure of comfort.

"So were the mages as silly as everyone else?" You ask, which, thankfully, snaps Hawkwood out of the funk he seemed to be descending into. Unfortunately, it's replaced with annoyance, but better annoyed than wallowing in misery. You can speak from experience.

"Okay, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking about the Legion as if it was some circus act."

"That's not really the picture you've painted every time you've tried to describe them." You say with a grin. "Isn't their fighting style a bunch of flips with big swords?"

"That was just the Abyss Watchers. Everybody else was much more pragmatic." Hawkwood said, irritation evident. "After all, not everyone was so willing to throw safety to the wind."

"So then these guys were just a bunch of normal mages?" You say, although the idea of a 'normal' mage still feels weird, but then again you traded your soul to become a magical girl, so do you really have the right to call things weird? Hawkwood seems to stumble over his words for a few seconds, before he recomposes himself enough to respond.

"Well, not exactly." Hawkwood admits begrudgingly. "From what I've heard, they did tend to be seen as a bunch of eccentrics by magical academics. I think the quote was something along the lines of 'a bunch of madmen more focused on finding a shortcut than proper methodology' or something pretentious like that."

"That sounds like a Vinheim scholar alright." Anri says with a laugh, although you notice that her companion seems to have vanished.

"Where'd Horace go?" You ask.

"Oh, he probably went to take a look up ahead." Anri explains. "He does that sometimes, it's nothing to be worried about."

"Without saying anything?"

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but he doesn't tend to say much of anything." Anri replies dryly.

"Sorry, poor choice of words." Hawkwood admits sheepishly. "Without letting you know?"

"He can handle himself, and it's not like he'll be going very far." Anri shrugs.

"So there should be two entrances to the academy we could take from what I remember." Hawkwood explains. "There's the main entrance, of course, but I think there should be a way in from the lower level storage room as well.That said, both of them would require us to head into the swamp, unfortunately. He gestures out towards the crab-filled waters (seriously why are there so many crabs?).

"Do we really have to?" You ask. The water might look cleaner than you expected, but you still don't want to step in it if you can avoid it. Wait, you could probably just climb one of the trees and jump around, couldn't you? Well, that'd be a relief to you, but you doubt anybody else would want to walk through it.

Your thoughts are interrupted as Horace just sort of... appears behind Anri, much to your surprise. The man really knows how to be quiet, despite wearing literal plate armor. He taps Anri on the shoulder, and seems to perform a few quick motions with his hands, to which Anri gives a quick nod.

"Horace says there's a hole in the wall right over there as well." Anri says, gesturing over to the left.

"Oh thank the Flame." Hawkwood says, relieved at being spared from the water. Horace, for his part, seems to make a few more gestures including one that seems to be mimicking drinking something, before pointing off in a slightly different direction.

"There's also a seeming dead end that might have some stuff. Horace saw what he thinks might be an Estus shard on a body there."

"How did he see something so small from a distance?" Hawkwood asks. Horace gestures once more to Anri, which at this point is obviously some form of sign language.

"He didn't, but there was a large fire going and he spotted the green glint on a corpse. It could be something else, of course." Anri turns their head to look in the direction Horace had informed them of. "Only way we'd be able to find out is to check."

---

[ ] Head into the Academy directly.
-[ ] Through the crack in the wall.
-[ ] You feel like making everybody miserable, so one of the other two entrances would be better. Overruled by basic human decency.
[ ] Take the detour to grab loot. Loot is always worth it.
[ ] Head back to Firelink Shrine.
-[] For? (Write In)
[ ] Can we pretty please fight the demon Hawkwood, it'll be quick I promise, pleeeeease?
-[ ] Guys, it'll be a ton of fun and totally worth it I swear, wait, don't leave come back!
[ ] Write in

---

190/2250 Corruption
7881 Souls​

---

Five years. Hard to believe it's been that long, yet it also sounds about right with just how much time has passed, and how different I am compared to when I started this. This update was meant to be a lot longer because today's the anniversary, but I had to cut it short after some stuff happened with a close friend of mine, and I've been left really stressed out about it. I'm not directly involved with it, it's more a friend of mine may have done something messed up, and we aren't even sure if he did or not because he's basically vanished. Kind of a complicated situation, but that's life, I guess. Before that, I was finishing up classes (I am now technically a college graduate which I guess is neat) so I was busy the past month. That all being said, here's hoping it won't take another five to see this quest through. Of course, the only way to do that is to keep on going, so that's the plan currently.