Maidens of the Kaleidoscope
~Beyond the Border~ => Rumia's Party Games => Topic started by: Amraphenson on November 14, 2012, 08:11:07 AM
-
>VICTORY ACHIEVED
>OBTAINED: SOUL OF GWYN, LORD OF CINDER
>YOU LINK THE FLAME
>CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE GIVEN BIRTH TO A NEW AGE OF FIRE
>...
>You wake up.
>STATUS
>EQUIPMENT
>ITEMS
>MENU
-
>Menu
>Load game
Since we have already achieved victory, loading our save should take us to the NG+.
-
> Recollect name.
-
> Try and get up.
-
>Menu
>Load game
Since we have already achieved victory, loading our save should take us to the NG+.
>You attempt to access MENU, but something freezes up and boots you back to the other options. What the hell is going on?
> Recollect name.
>Something...you can't remember clearly. You remember names and monikers. Chosen Undead, Hollow, friend, warrior, Forest Hunter, Gravelord, titles you carried at some point but nothing like a real name.
> Try and get up.
>It's soft. The smell is somewhat familiar, the room warmer than you're used to. It's dark, but that hasn't been an obstacle to you for a while now, and you can make out the shapes pretty easily. Light filtering in from under the door, one of those metal stands with a bag of fluid hanging, monitors and graphs showing your condition...
>...?!
>This isn't Lordran. nor the Kiln of the First Flame. Rather...this is...
>Distant memories. Ones almost forgotten, but still there all the same. Of a time before the Undead Asylum, before your quest, before your endless cycle of death and unlife, before you took your blade to the end and killed the very Sun itself...
>There was this.
>Your name...your name is Alex. Alex Courval.
>You fought for an immeasurable amount of time for the purpose of linking the flame, so that the Age of Fire may continue and the curse of the Darksign may be lifted. But...your memories of that quest are foggy, doubtless because of the painkillers, and that goes without mentioning your life before.
>Were you...?
>A dextrous warrior and sorceror, using your mobility and sorceries to great effect?
>A noble knight and man of faith, blending heavy armor and miracles together to smite all who stood in front of you?
>A caster of both miracle and sorcery, along with pyromancy, bringing all three arts together at the sacrifice of martial prowess?
-
>A dextrous warrior and sorceror, using your mobility and sorceries to great effect?
-
>...that's right. Soul arts and flashing blade in accord, tearing defenses apart with the absurd firepower or piercing right through their weaknesses. It was this combination that let your blade, reinforced to legendary levels but otherwise mundane, stand up to the flaming greatsword Gwyn wielded.
>But that's in the past. You're not the same warrior, no...
>You access STATUS.
>VITALITY: 8
>ENDURANCE: 9
>STRENGTH: 10
>DEXTERITY: 9
>INTELLIGENCE: 50
>FAITH: 9
>ATTUNEMENT: 19
>...As expected. All your stats have lowered to almost pitiful levels, Vitality especially. Oddly, your Intelligence and Attunement remain the same; the former granted the power to use your sorceries, and the latter giving you the capacity to store them inside you. The more intelligence, the more oomph to each spell. The more attunement, the more spells you could cast.
>Technically your Faith is the same too, but you never raised that at all.
>Your physical body as atrophied. No, rather, this body has atrophied; it's not the same one you had in Lordran. It was the one you had before being brought to Lordran.
>Why...how? How had that even happened?
>The memories are clearing up a bit. You can almost put faces to them...
>The door opens. A woman in a white dress, with a strange metal apparatus around her neck and a flat piece of wood in her hands, blinks at you.
>Scrubs. Stethoscope. Clipboard, you realise.
>Words you don't remember using for a while.
-
> Look at the nurse.
> "Hello."
-
>"Where am I?"
>Get killed, because Dark Souls.
-
> Look at the nurse.
> "Hello."
>"Oh my!" She exclaims, clearly surprised. "You're awake!"
>She scrambles around the room, checking the various medical apparatus as you just watch her. You get the urge to hold your shield up between you and her erratic movements, but you don't have a shield nor do you think she's a threat.
>Well, considering your luck with thoughts and threat gauging, maybe you shouldn't be so relaxed.
>"Where am I?"
>Get killed, because Dark Souls.
>She looks up from her clipboard and smiles. "You've been comatose for nearly a year, sweety. Bad traffic accident at an intersection; don't remember?"
>You shake your head. It's hard to really even think clearly.
>You're tempted, just to see if you were sent back to the last bonfire, but there's nothing around to really use in that manner.
>Being stuck here as you are, barely able to even move, you access your ITEM menu.
>Of course, nothing. You didn't expect to carry your equipment with you if you didn't even keep your...stats?
>Huh.
>ITEM: SOUL OF GWYN, LORD OF CINDER
-
> Uh... Well that's something.
> Might not be best to tamper with it in our current condition.
-
> Uh... Well that's something.
> Might not be best to tamper with it in our current condition.
>Possibly. Probably? You don't know. Consuming it would probably bring you a lot closer back to full function.
>Of course it might also consume the entire hospital in fire, and that would probably be bad.
>...like before, you can store items infinitely in yourself. Souls made up everything in Lordran; it seems you're still no exception. By dissolving something into its spiritual components and absorbing it into yourself, you were able to keep a veritable arsenal on you. Occasionally the selection grew tedious to sort through though, so some did end up in actual storage.
>"Here, I've just called your parents. Should be here any moment now."
>You nod...and start thinking. Parents. You barely remember them, or him, or her. You vaguely remember more than one person, but otherwise...
>Best to wait then.
>"I'll be right back with your family, alright honey?"
>You nod again and are left alone to think. Or...
>You flex your fingers and nod slowly. It's probably possible to move around now.
-
> Try moving everything to get a feel for our condition.
-
> Try moving everything to get a feel for our condition.
>Your neck's stiff. Mouth and facial muscles seem to be okay.
>Shoulders are similarly stiff, which is understandable. All your joints feel like they've been rusted over, or like after a long spiel of heavy armor wearing.
>Waist turns decently, your spine is rather rigid. Your knees bend well enough.
>You gently pull the blanket off you and turn, placing both feet on the floor.
>Cold. White tile in a rectangular pattern. No pressure plates or trip wires, no obvious threats.
>You apply a little pressure, put a little weight down while remaining on the bed. No complaints so far. A little more weight...seems fine.
>So you try standing.
>It hurts a little, it's hard to step, but you can move. Stand, at least.
>The weight of your entire body on your legs is a little staggering. You've never felt this encumbered before, even when you experimented at a time with heavier armors than the light ones you favored.
>This body is...weak. At least in comparison.
>Slow. Step by step. Don't over exert what little stability's left.
>Closer. Nearer. Your left hand reaches out, the joints almost audibly creaking like old hinges.
>Finger tips reach cloth. Your arm moves. The curtain is drawn aside.
>Sun light. Warmth. Comforting rays peeking over the buildings and trees around the hospital, covering you in a loving embrace.
>This world...it isn't dark. Not like Lordran. It isn't cold.
>You smile. It's warm. It's bright. Perhaps a little too bright for you, now jaded and warped by thousands of deaths, but you have fallen in love with it in a way the former you never could have all the same.
>A door opens behind you, and you look ever your shoulder to find two increasingly familiar faces there.
>"A-Alex?" the woman there breathes out, hands white-knuckled and knees shaking. She clings on to the man next to her for support, who's similarly brought to tears. He simply smiles after choking back a sob.
>"W-welcome back son," he says finally.
>Warmth stains your cheeks. You worry that its blood, but surprise yourself when you find tears being shed, just like your mother and father.
>"I...I guess I'm back?" you breathe out, almost not believing the words yourself.
>The tears don't step, even when they both take you up into a truly staggering embrace.
>...
>Weeks pass. Rehab and what not, trying to bring your physical body back up to shape. You push even further still though, mind used to the pain; even if its not possible without the threat of death itself, you want to be as strong as before.
>No bonfires to attune magic with, even if your abilities are compatible. But your soul-boosted intelligence proves immensely useful for catching up the year of curriculum you missed; it's cheating, in a way.
>The fact you still have some of your abilities and the potential for the rest concerns you. Did something bring you back here, whisk you away from your fate as the kindling for the First Flame, for some purpose? Was it the force that sent you to Lordran in the first place? Too many questions.
>You return home after a day at the hospital to find your mother examining a large, wrapped box rather closely.
>"What's that?" you ask, coming up behind her in the living room.
>"A package for you," she starts, running a hand over it. It's large, and somewhat oddly familiar. "But there's no sender."
>Strange...
-
> Hrm.
> Check it over and if everything seems good, carefully open it.
-
> Hrm.
> Check it over and if everything seems good, carefully open it.
>It's a cardboard box about as two thirds as tall as you, and perhaps as wide as your shoulders, and perhaps two hands thick. Something about it is familiar.
>Weighty. Not particularly so, but considerable. It's almost...familiar.
>"Any clue what it is?" your mother asks, confusion evident in her eyes. You shake your head.
>You're still not quite sure as to how safe it is, but nothing ventured nothing gained.
>Then again, you don't have a nigh infinite method of revival now.
-
> Well, guess we'll leave it up to fate.
> Open 'er up.
-
> Well, guess we'll leave it up to fate.
> Open 'er up.
>Mom provides a box cutter to slice the tape apart. You warily take apart the package...and gawk.
>This shape. The metal. The insignia of Balder, a fading silver tree imprinted upon solid steel.
>The well-worn wood, the self wrapped leather, the curves and grooves, the three foot long rod.
>And metal. Cold, sleek metal. The blade is almost too thin to believe, the handle dented and the hand-guard scarred with dozens of scratches.
>Your equipment. The Balder Side Sword, Balder Shield, and Logan's Catalyst. Just as you remember them.
>A note lays still in the now-empty box.
-
>Raise an eyebrow at the note, and pull it out to read it!
-
>Raise an eyebrow at the note, and pull it out to read it!
>If this isn't suspicious, then you don't know what.
>As your mom starts spouting questions at you, you bring the note up to your face and read it carefully.
>It's never over.
-
>"...Well, guess my adventure isn't over yet."
>Then look back at her with the sort of rugged and amused smile that would make one think more of an old warrior than a young man. "I had quite an adventure you know."
-
>"...Well, guess my adventure isn't over yet."
>Then look back at her with the sort of rugged and amused smile that would make one think more of an old warrior than a young man. "I had quite an adventure you know."
>Your mother gives you an odd look. She seems to want to exclaim something, like 'What are you talking about?' or 'Stop joking around', but your smile silences her. The hollowness in your gaze as you run a finger over the shield tells all that needs to be said.
>After a long while, during which your father arrives only to be silenced by your mother, she finally speaks. "You weren't really in the hospital for all that time were you?"
>Smart woman, as always.
-
> Keep up the smile.
> "It was pretty disorienting waking up in the hospital like that."
-
> Keep up the smile.
> "It was pretty disorienting waking up in the hospital like that."
>Your father puts a shoulder on your arm, picks up your sword, examines it. Your mom wraps both arms around your neck, hugs you as tight as she can.
>"What happened?" your dad says. He seems a little surprised at the weight of your main weapon, and certainly so the sharpness. He gingerly sucks on this thumb after slicing it open from a mere touch.
>You laugh a little. "I died. A lot."
>They seem a tad put off by that.
>...
>It takes an hour or so to explain everything. They're disturbed, justifiably so, but to you it's all the truth. Not a lie to be found. You didn't tell them about all your deaths, they didn't need that, but all the same it's frightening for them.
>"You said something about magic...sorcery, right?" your dad says. "Can you still do that?"
>"I wonder," you answer, grabbing Logan's Catalyst.
>Big Hat Logan. Your Sorcery teacher, who you saved from imprisonment in the trap laden Sen's Fortress and once again in Seath's Archives. He went mad trying to emulate Seath, trying to become immortal himself; you put him down. His catalyst was mundane, but years upon years of usage and improvement have turned into a beast of a focus.
>You think, gather your thoughts, focus. Something simple to test yourself out. You had five spells attuned when you fought Gwyn, during your final combat, thus you probably still have the same five attuned.
>Crystal Soul Spear, a deadly projectile that could penetrate without limit.
>Crystal Magic Weapon, an enchantment that brought any weapon to nigh-unstoppable power.
>Homing Crystal Soulmass, which summoned five orbs that launched themselves at anyone that approached.
>Dark Bead, an old sorcery of Oolacile that fired five orbs, each with their own force and destructive if all five hit.
>White Dragon Breath, which emulated Seath's own to create a wave of soul crystals that sundered anything in their path.
>None are particularly good for demonstration in your home, but you're increasingly curious as to whether or not you have any magic left.
-
>"To be honest, I'm not sure, but it could be worth a try. I have an idea, but we need one of the butter knives for it, and a spare cinderblock."
>If Crystal Magic Weapon can make a sword like ours insanely powerful, it should make a butter knife about as strong as a typical enchanted weapon.
-
>"To be honest, I'm not sure, but it could be worth a try. I have an idea, but we need one of the butter knives for it, and a spare cinderblock."
>If Crystal Magic Weapon can make a sword like ours insanely powerful, it should make a butter knife about as strong as a typical enchanted weapon.
>You say it more to yourself than anyone else. Your parents are still a little too shocked to react, so you pick yourself up and head towards the kitchen, left hand holding the Catalyst loosely.
>It worked something like that, in any case. Enchants were enchants, regardless of what weapon you applied them to; a faster, lighter weapon could strike more times within a span of time and thus apply the effects of the enchant multiple times. Your sword was chosen for a balance between speed and utility; even if unenchanted, it was highly dangerous.
>Knife in right hand, you shuffle towards the shed in the backyard. The door swings open, you fish a block out, and throw it back into the yard.
>Gather your souls. Channel through your catalyst. Shape it within.
>There it is. The swell of power that you wielded a seeming eternity ago. The rush of cold souls, the thrum of their combined war cry, the resonance of their strength. This is the magnum opus of Big Hat Logan, the man who's spells were said to rival the very lightning of Lord Gwyn himself.
>Release.
>Catalyst held over your head, crossing the butter knife in an X. You move both away from the other as the spell flows away from Logan's Catalyst.
>Crystal Magic Weapon
>The entirety of your improvised weapon glows a pale blue, now infused with raw magic. Then, as if plagued by a malignant growth, crystals grow from the blade.
>Everything was made of souls in Lordran. The body, weapons, armor. What beat what upon collision was an event determined by strength and strength alone. The stronger the souls, the more likely it came out on top.
>Changing souls into a 'material' caused the total strength to weaken, but it was the only way to really create any sort of solid object. Such was the domain of blacksmiths, to refine weapons and armor until there was little to no loss of strength in material conversion. Things like your sword and shield, which were so reinforced so as to be able to take scars permanently, were an immense rarity.
>This is the conceptual magic of Logan. Rather than create a 'metal made of souls', the crystals of his final magics were 'solid souls.' And as such, nothing short of divine miracles or the pyromancies of Chaos could stand before it.
>You set the Catalyst aside on the ground. You're keenly aware of your parents watching, and were very much aware of them gasping in surprise as you covered the utensil in magic.
>Your now free hand picks up the cinderblock, tosses it lightly into the air, and your weapon flashes in a diagonal slash.
>What was now one is now two.
>Rather than cuts, Crystal Magic Weapon left weapons in a state that more or less sheared away material. The fact you can't even put the two halves together is testament to that.
>Your parents simply stand by while you stare at the butter knife.
>It's true then. That note wasn't lying. Either you kept your powers and experience for no reason...
>Or something else is up.
>You become vaguely aware that your father has gotten behind you, both hands on your shoulders. His voice is warm, comforting, worried but stern. "What's going to happen now Alex? What are you going to do?"
-
> "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. If I can still do this though, then something's obviously going on."
-
> "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. If I can still do this though, then something's obviously going on."
>You say this while appraising your blade, feeling out the enchantment. It seems as powerful as always.
>"You should talk to the police," your mother suggests.
>"Would they believe him?" your father retorts. "I've seen enough TV shows to know where that'll lead."
>They're clinging to each other now, your mom latched onto your father's arm as she starts to panic a little. "If they see that, then obviously they'll have to believe him!"
>"But then they might take Alex away for who-knows-what," Dad points out, sighing in exasperation. "Alex, what do you think?"
-
> It's probably for the best to keep quiet about this.
> "I think for now we should just wait and see what happens. If things start to get crazy then I'll be sure to do something, but it might be best to take things as they come for now."
-
> It's probably for the best to keep quiet about this.
> "I think for now we should just wait and see what happens. If things start to get crazy then I'll be sure to do something, but it might be best to take things as they come for now."
>They don't like that answer. What kind of parents would? But your father, at least, understands why it has to be this way, and nods at your declaration of intent.
>"We don't want to lose you again, Alex," your mother says, almost a whisper. "Please be careful."
>You smile gently and bring the two of them into a hug.
>They've lost you still, but perhaps they can find you again.
>...
>Upper right to lower left, shift grip, upper left to lower right, draw back blade, lunge. Pivot, swing left arm, parry, riposte.
>Roll, swap shield for Catalyst, gather energy, launch spell. Roll immediately afterwards, bring your sword up in a slash to cover your recovery. Bring shield up, return to neutral. Watch. React.
>Blindly running in, weapon flailing, got you killed enough. You don't plan on dying again any time soon, especially not with your parents still worrying about you.
>It's been a week since you got that note and your weapons back, and you've thrown yourself back into practice, re-familiarizing yourself and building back the muscle memory required for swordplay.
>Speaking of parents...
>"Alex, there's a phone call for you! Someone called Priscilla." There's an underlying tone of suggestiveness there, which you barely catch, but that name is what captures your attention.
>No. Couldn't be. How...?
-
> "Heh?"
> Go and get the phone.
-
> "Heh?"
> Go and get the phone.
>You scramble over yourself to get to it.
>"Who's the lucky girl?" your mom teases.
>"Not now mom...hello?"
>"It has been many a moon since our last meeting, good knight."
>That voice is her's, no doubt.
>Crossbreed Priscilla. A half-dragon born with the power of Lifehunt, said to be able to slay the gods with the least of efforts, and thus sealed away within the Painted World of Ariamis. A painting. A prison, if a peaceful one.
>Wounded, and on the borderline of going insane from lack of Humanity, you fell into the Painted World. She nursed you back to sanity, to health, and sent you off on your way. You owe her your life.
>So why...why is she on this side?
>No, that's not important. What's important now is that this is the first mention of danger since the package.
-
> "T-That it has..."
> Let's regain some composure.
> "Sorry if I come off as rude, but how are you on this side?"
-
> "T-That it has..."
> Let's regain some composure.
> "Sorry if I come off as rude, but how are you on this side?"
>"How indeed. It's as much a mystery to me as I'm sure it is a mystery to you. One moment I'm enjoying peace and tranquility and the next I find myself here, in a much smaller, not to mention human, body. Without my scythe, as well! You can imagine my ire. I only got it back a few weeks ago, and just now I got another of those strange messages with a phone number labeled 'Your Knight in Not-So-Shining Armor.' Whoever brought me here has a sense of humor. I suppose you've been receiving these odd packages as well? And, before I forget, I suppose this is your world? You told me ever so much about it during your short tenure in Ariamis."
-
> "Ah, yeah. This is my world."
> "As for the packages, I got one containing all of my equipment and a really short message."
-
> "Ah, yeah. This is my world."
> "As for the packages, I got one containing all of my equipment and a really short message."
>"Odd. I've been getting more, though they've been mostly to the effect of 'prepare yourself', and mostly small pieces of paper at that. Any idea as to who brought me here, and ostensibly brought you back?"
-
> Do we?
> If not: "I've got absolutely no idea."
> ...
> "Where are you calling from anyway?"
-
> Do we?
> If not: "I've got absolutely no idea."
> ...
> "Where are you calling from anyway?"
>Not really.
>She hums thoughtfully at your answer. "Somewhere called ------. Nowhere of note, from what I can tell. I apparently have a family; quite novel considering my last threw me into Ariamis in the first place. This body was also cursed with some strange condition called albinism; I suppose it serves as a viable excuse for my hair color. In any case-"
>You tune her out. She rambles like that sometimes when she finds something amusing; a far cry from the curtness she displayed to anyone else who passed Ariamis (and managed to survive long enough to actually reach her chambers).
>...
>That's your city. This city. The city she said she was in is here.
-
>"Oh. That's where I am. That's definitely probably intentional."
>Or a coincidence and she's just as crazy as we probably are, but lets pretend shared delusions work.
>also how long until we declare our undying love for her at this point. and she kills said love.
-
>"Oh. That's where I am. That's definitely probably intentional."
>Or a coincidence and she's just as crazy as we probably are, but lets pretend shared delusions work.
>also how long until we declare our undying love for her at this point. and she kills said love.
>"Oooh?" her voice lights up in amusement. You think it's amusement, anyways. "How intriguing. Whoever brought me here intends for me to cohort with you, good knight, and somehow that plays into their hands...very well. I will cease communication with you until further notice unless it's absolutely necessary. May the flames guide you...or not, considering how now you're the flame."
>She hangs up before you can even get a word in edge wise. She certainly seems to believe it's intentional, and you're inclined to believe the same. Of course, a half-dragon who's spent the entirety of her life in a frigid mountain ruins and a Hollow who's died several hundred times may very well be insane. You don't count that out. You've always shared a certain kinship with Priscilla, and beneath that an attraction you never really could act upon being half-insane, but apparently she's human sized now...
>You squash the thought. More important things to do. You aren't entirely sure she can kill concepts, but you'd rather not make your infatuation obvious regardless
>You blink as you feel something change.
>You bring up the Status menu.
>Your Strength, Dexterity, Endurance, and Vitality have all improved by two points since your awakening, but what really interests you is besides that.
>COVENANT JOINED
>KNIGHT OF THE LIFEHUNT
>...well. That's bound to be useful at some point.
>In any case you don't have anything to really act upon now, but there's the pressing concern of your physical condition. Added to that, while you may have a sword, shield, and catalyst, you lack armor. And as well as that you lack knowledge, but that will be hard to come by.
>What to work on, you wonder?
-
> Is there anywhere in the city we could even get armor? It's probably a lot harder to come by in our world depending on what we want.
> If it's knowledge we want though, the library might be a good place to start.
-
> Is there anywhere in the city we could even get armor? It's probably a lot harder to come by in our world depending on what we want.
> If it's knowledge we want though, the library might be a good place to start.
>You're not sure yourself. Something like a bulletproof vest or that would be better than nothing, but you'd have to do research.
>You're also note quite sure the kind of knowledge you're looking for would be obtainable at a library. After all, you mostly want to know how the hell this is even happening.
-
> Hrm... Maybe we should go for a walk? That might help a little in terms of thinking.
-
> Hrm... Maybe we should go for a walk? That might help a little in terms of thinking.
>As good an idea as any.
>You slip on a jacket and scarf for the cold weather and call out your intentions to your mother, who calls back jovially.
>Does she think you found a girlfriend at rehab or school or something?
>Your sword catches your eye as you make to leave. May just want to be safe...
-
>...can we hide our sword in ourselves without actually uh, stabbing our self? Having a sword out on a leisurely stroll has to be some sort of illegal.
-
>...can we hide our sword in ourselves without actually uh, stabbing our self? Having a sword out on a leisurely stroll has to be some sort of illegal.
>You haven't actually tried soul storage. You've been bleeding and stuff normally, so it didn't occur to you to try...
>But if you're still holding on to Gwyn's soul with no issue, then this should be safe.
-
> Try Soul Storage then.
> If it works, bring the sword.
> If it doesn't, grab that knife from earlier.
-
> Try Soul Storage then.
> If it works, bring the sword.
> If it doesn't, grab that knife from earlier.
>Might as well.
>You reach out towards the Balder Side Sword and focus. Break it down into its component souls. Absorb. Catalog its properties and store them for later....watch. Wait.
>You're taking it slow. No threat of life or death here.
>A sigh of relief flows out as you watch the blade slowly...wait.
>It's not dissolving like before. Rather, it's just...sinking into you.
>You raise an eyebrow as only a foot of blade is left, poking out your palm. "That could be useful," you muse.
>"Alex, how long do you think you'll...be...?"
>...Oops.
>Your mom drops her purse, which thuds loudly on the floor. Silence.
-
> Crap.
> "I swear there's a perfectly magical explanation for this."
> Might as well tell her.
-
> Crap.
> "I swear there's a perfectly magical explanation for this."
> Might as well tell her.
>"Isn't that sentence supposed to have logical?!" she exclaims.
>Well, can't argue that.
>....
>A quick explanation later and you're merrily on your way, sword stored properly and mother properly informed.
>Now would be a good time to collect all your thoughts, figure out what you know and what you don't, and maybe check up on things. Might even consider consuming Gwyn's soul.
>ITEMS
>EQUIPMENT
>STATUS
>MENU
-
> Consider the effects of consuming the soul.
> Keep an eye out for anything odd.
-
> Consider the effects of consuming the soul.
> Keep an eye out for anything odd.
>There had never been consequences to consuming greater souls like Gwyn's, beyond minor mental effects for maybe an hour afterwards. They'd have a tendency to create a bit of a light show, yes, but otherwise they were in effect concentrated amounts of souls. Consuming Gwyn's would probably give you enough to get a long way towards reconditioning yourself.
>Nothing of note. Yet.
-
> Better find a place with no people then if we're gonna consume it.
-
> Better find a place with no people then if we're gonna consume it.
>At this time of day, that's not too hard.
>You slip into an empty lot, strewn with trash and refuse, and stand in the center of it. Your flair for the dramatic is persistent still.
>Gwyn's Soul shines brightly in your hand, almost too brightly to look at. As you hold it before you, ready to crush it and release the concentrated mass of souls inside, you feel yourself think back...
>...
>His greatsword burns with the intensity of His own sun. You grind your blade, wreathed in the magic of your strongest enchantment, against it, pushing back with every iota of strength you have.
>One clash. Two. You roll away from his blows, deflect them with your shield, distract him with Crystal Soul Spears when you can, but all to no avail. He doesn't let up.
>His hand shoots out and grabs you by the head. Fire gathers. You feel the heat build up, feel it wash over you as he lifts you above. And then you see white.
>Your body is a crumpled heap. The explosion very nearly killed you...very nearly sent you over the edge. This is your last chance. The last vestiges of Humanity you have left are on the line here; either you win, or you lose.
>Solaire. Rickert. Andre. Priscilla. The Giant Blacksmith. Logan. Griggs. Dusk. Ingward. Laurentius, Quelana, Eingyi, the Fair Lady, Reah, everyone is relying on you.
>You failed them all once. You won't fail again.
>Blades flash. Gwyn descends upon you, his greatsword alight with the brightest fire yet...!
>But your shield swings like the very hammer of a god, driving his blow away. Your entire left arm is numb, but that matters little.
>Your blade finds his heart.
>...
>To think the same one you bested would be the very one who helps out in your time of need.
>"I need your power Gwyn."
>You crush the pulsing mass.
>Souls escape from between your fingers, radiate from the point of destruction. An invisible force rolls off you in waves as the souls are drawn into your body; you feel the strength, the warmth of it infuse you.
>...Enough to recover a sizable chunk of strength, probably.
>Now how to distribute it?
-
>Let's split it between Vitality, Dexterity, and Endurance. We can work on Strength normally, or use other means.
-
>Let's split it between Vitality, Dexterity, and Endurance. We can work on Strength normally, or use other means.
> Seconding this.
-
>Let's do that...wait.
>Dammit, you need a Bonfire to apply souls for level ups! That sucks.
>You'll have to figure out if there are even Bonfires first-
>...
>Your instincts scream. You roll out of the way, barely dodging...knives? No, not knives. They seem...different. Distorted, disjointed. The fact that they disappear a second later adds to your suspicion.
>"Sup," a voice, adult and male calls out. "You the new kid?"
>You don't have time to react or even look at the source of the voice before something-
>...
>-happens again, and suddenly you're trying to fend off a furious assault of twin knives. Brown hair and startlingly blue, almost glowing eyes are the only things you can make out behind the solid wall of steel.
>Shit, should've brought your Catalyst and shield too...!
-
> "Dammit Kenzie not now."
> Keep on the defensive with our sword.
> "Define "new"."
-
> "Dammit Kenzie not now."
> Keep on the defensive with our sword.
> "Define "new"."
>You somehow manage to quip in the midst of the exchange; not your usual battle habits, but whatever.
>A backstep manages to bring you far enough to actually establish a defensive perimeter; knife fighters are most dangerous when they're inside your swing range, making it absurdly awkward to actually attack them.
>One knife in his right hand, held in an icepick grip. Three held between his knuckles on the left. A light blue vest, pinstriped dress-shirt, and black slacks. He looks like a butler.
>He smiles and falls into a low stance, almost absurdly low. Definitely going to charge you.
>"A kid waking up to strange powers and having to adjust to life in the normal world. Reminds me of myself; but your order of events is a little different from mine."
>"How-?" you exclaim, but-
>...
>-he's behind you?!
>Instinct throws your arm into the trajectory of his intersecting slashes. Blood splatters; you register the pain but don't really feel it. The wound stops bleeding within seconds, but souls still flow out of it like a punctured air tank.
>As you bring your blade back up, he whistles. Appreciatively, you may add. "Intel was true then," he muses as he stashes his knives away somewhere. "Alex Courval, right?"
-
>Rest our sword on our shoulder in a casual, yet ready-to-use manner. "Who wants to know?"
>We'll have to remember to consider daggers or knifes ourselves. Who knows if we'll have to fight this guy again, or anyone else like him.
-
>Rest our sword on our shoulder in a casual, yet ready-to-use manner. "Who wants to know?"
>We'll have to remember to consider daggers or knifes ourselves. Who knows if we'll have to fight this guy again, or anyone else like him.
>He brings a finger up to his chin, as if in thought. "Someone who likes to keep watch on inter-dimensional travel. And you qualify, even if it was only your soul that was doing the traveling."
>You flex the fingers of your left hand. Feeling's back.
>Probably a good idea, though this guy carries the confidence of someone really attuned to his weapon. As fond as you are of your sword, you only ever used what was most useful. This guy...it's like he's gone to hell and back with those knives.
>"If you want a name...well...that's something I can't give up quite yet," he adds, smirking, eyes like blue steel.
-
> "I see..."
> "So I'd assume you're able to explain this situation correct? Because I have no clue how this happened."
-
> "I see..."
> "So I'd assume you're able to explain this situation correct? Because I have no clue how this happened."
>He shrugs. "Maybe. The enigma thing is overrated, I know, but it can't be helped. As it is, you and your half-dragon friend are liabilities, which goes without mentioning all the others."
>Your eyes widen in an instant. "Others?!"
>"Indeed. You were aware of the mechanics of your world, right? As I understand it, which isn't very well since my benefactor likes hiding things from me, Lordran was a multifaceted dimension all of its own. The 'Chosen Undead' varied from timeline to timeline, and the timelines would blend into each other's at the slightest touch. You summoned and were summoned by others, weren't you? I can't imagine Time itself being so distorted like that...it's never quite that angry with me."
>...He knows. So much. How? How does he know so much?
>"And in the end you were the only one. Or so you think."
>...?!
>"There were others who managed to beat Gwyn, you know. Those are the 'others'. Those who managed to take him out...they came back."
>"...and the rest?" you somehow manage to grind out.
>"Nothing could be done. They're...gone. Hospitals across the entire world with comatose patients...well. It's a relief that only one of the beings consistent with each timeline managed to get through...no, rather, your half-dragon friend is an oddity. She wasn't brought from here, so why was she brought here...?" he trails off.
>Aggravating. His nonchalant tone is aggravating beyond comprehension, somehow. His calm tone as he talks about the people you crossed blades with and against...
>"...so what are you here for?" you manage, finally.
>"There was a large flux of power here, and I decided to check it out. Until we're sure you're not a threat...well, it's hard to be sure when you have a bunch of quasi-immortal soul manipulators and a half-dragon who can quite literally kill anything."
>He shrugs again. Logical, but he's still pissing you off.
-
>"Ah. That must have been when I absorbed a powerful soul that stuck with me during the transfer. Gwyn's to be exact. I was hoping to use it restore at least some of my lost power, this body's a bit too low-end for my liking. Everything but Intelligence and Attunement are below ten. Extremely vexing."
>Then sigh. "The only problem being that I have to use a Bonfire to allocate the power properly, which is something that likely isn't a thing on this side." Grumble slightly at that.
>And then shrug. "As for why she ended up here, I've been wondering on that myself. Perhaps it is because I too am here? Who knows? Life is just one big riddle for the ages, never finding it's answer until the final death."
>Hey, if he can be enigmatic, we can too.
-
>"Ah. That must have been when I absorbed a powerful soul that stuck with me during the transfer. Gwyn's to be exact. I was hoping to use it restore at least some of my lost power, this body's a bit too low-end for my liking. Everything but Intelligence and Attunement are below ten. Extremely vexing."
>Then sigh. "The only problem being that I have to use a Bonfire to allocate the power properly, which is something that likely isn't a thing on this side." Grumble slightly at that.
>And then shrug. "As for why she ended up here, I've been wondering on that myself. Perhaps it is because I too am here? Who knows? Life is just one big riddle for the ages, never finding it's answer until the final death."
>Hey, if he can be enigmatic, we can too.
>He raises an eyebrow. "Intelligence and attunement?...Don't tell me you had stats, like a video game? Wow, Lordran just gets weirder and weirder the more I hear about it."
-
>"Strange, I know, but it was rather apt at showing what one was capable of."
-
>"Strange, I know, but it was rather apt at showing what one was capable of."
>He laughs. It's a hearty chuckle. "And I thought my adventures were RPG like."
>RPG. That's...a video game genre? You never really played many video games. Well, you've played enough of them for a lifetime if that's the genre Lordran counts as.
>A flash of movement and his knives are back...no, just one. A longer one, more embellished, held in his right hand with a normal grip. His smirk expands into a full blown demonic smile; despite yourself, you feel...fear. This guy isn't like anything else you've fought...no, this guy seems like he's toying with you, something nothing in Lordran ever did.
>"Shall we continue then? I was having some fun, and I still have some time before I have to debrief. As far as I can tell you're pretty harmless, but, well, who knows?"
-
>....Bollocks. We really should've brought the Catalyst! As we are now, there's no way we could take him on.
>"As much as I would enjoy that, wouldn't you rather see me at full power for said fight? I'm afraid that as I am now, the fight wouldn't last more than a few minutes. I don't have nearly as much power as I did when I fought Gwyn. Now if there was some way I could allocate the power I obtained from Gwyn's Soul, then we would be able to have a more enjoyable spar."
-
>....Bollocks. We really should've brought the Catalyst! As we are now, there's no way we could take him on.
>"As much as I would enjoy that, wouldn't you rather see me at full power for said fight? I'm afraid that as I am now, the fight wouldn't last more than a few minutes. I don't have nearly as much power as I did when I fought Gwyn. Now if there was some way I could allocate the power I obtained from Gwyn's Soul, then we would be able to have a more enjoyable spar."
>His smile softens. "I appreciate a guy who can pick his fights. Guess I'll see you later then; I'll hold you to that spar."
>...
>...Aaand he's gone. Yeesh.
-
>".....Well, that was a surprise." Deadpan.
>Weird guy that. We'll have to make sure to improve for the next match. We'll need to find a Bonfire somehow, if there is even one on this side..
-
>Next time we see him, we're taking his ass to the cleaners. ON MY WORD.
>Consider how likely making an ad-hoc bonfire would work. Otherwise, we may need to hope our mysterious benefactor feels nice.
-
>Nothing has ever stopped you forever, you don't intend to have this guy be the first.
>Bonfires...probably not likely. Then again...
>You might be able to make one. You'd have to find a sword and some refuse, though. Human bones, pieces of broken armor, ashes. And that would only give you a visual copy. Lighting it...maybe you can now. You did consume Gwyn's soul, and he was the source of all Fire in Lordran.
-
> Would we be able to use our sword?
> Does refuse have to be specific or could it be random things like garbage?
-
> Would we be able to use our sword?
> Does refuse have to be specific or could it be random things like garbage?
>You're not entirely sure your sword would still be available for use afterwards, if removing it would turn the bonfire unusable, or the other way around.
>You're also not sure what the actual trash needs to be; all the Bonfires you saw were the same. Maybe you could try? There's lots of trash around to use.
-
> Would anything sufficiently sharp work in place of a sword?
> Gather up some trash.
-
> Would anything sufficiently sharp work in place of a sword?
> Gather up some trash.
>Dunno. You've never actually made a Bonfire or asked about how they're made; you just found them. Occasionally there were Fire Keepers, but you never asked nor do you think they'd ever tell.
>You grab some scraps, some empty cans, some wrappers, and gather them into a pile in a vague approximation of what you remember.
>Something sharp...well, there's a splintered two-by-four around, some lead pipes, other stuff. Could be worth a try.
-
>Humanity is likely necessary; it's necessary to kindle them, at least.
-
> Try the lead pipe.
-
>Yes. The Fire Keeper's Souls which were used to strengthen the Estus Flask, were masses of Humanity. The implication is pretty clear there.
>You close your eyes and bring up the odd display that so accurately described your situation; total health until you expired, energy left, and in this case the most important: Humanity.
>...strange. The number there is...distorted. Unreadable. It glows white though, signalling your current human form, and you clearly feel the effects of a large amount of Humanity.
>You dig a bit of a hole with your foot and plant the lead pipe straight into the pile of trash.
>...something smolders. You feel something stir. Seems like it's working...?
>You extend a hand and try to release some Humanity, but...tch. This body isn't really Undead, it doesn't release or take it in as easily. Your entire body is infused with a considerable amount though, so if you offered a piece of body...
>A finger would probably be enough. Who knows if you could use some Souls to reform it, as you could before.
>So many things to learn, so many risks to take.
>Troublesome.
-
>What about a few chunks of hair? Surely that would be enough.
-
>What about a few chunks of hair? Surely that would be enough.
>Probably a better idea. You slip the tip of your sword out of your finger, cut off some hair, and drop it onto the makeshift Bonfire.
>Fire erupts. It's the ephemeral flame you're so used to, cold yet somehow warming to see-
>And in a second it dies.
>Tch. Not enough Humanity in your hair.
>Now that you think about it, the first Fire Keeper you met was missing her feet and tongue. Poor Anastacia didn't deserve what Lautrec did to her...you righted that, at least.
-
>Too much risk to use a part of ourselves just yet, we'll have to confirm if we'd even be able to regenerate first.
>Looks like running into that fellow again would be our only option as of yet. 'She' might know, but she's in the same situation as us.
>...Come to think of it, we were going to see her, weren't we? Crap. Isn't polite to keep a lady waiting after all.
-
>...Come to think of it, we were going to see her, weren't we? Crap. Isn't polite to keep a lady waiting after all.
Not really. We just kinda went for a walk to think things through.
> Did our regenerative powers work for cuts? If so, try drawing blood on one of our fingers and see if it heals quickly.
-
Not really. We just kinda went for a walk to think things through.
> Did our regenerative powers work for cuts? If so, try drawing blood on one of our fingers and see if it heals quickly.
>It certainly worked when that knife wielding butler psycho slashed open your left arm.
>You prick your left finger just in case, and are relieved to see a flood of souls escape, leaving an unblemished finger behind.
>...Not really any considerable drain.
-
>....Still too risky to use a finger though, we still don't know the full extent of what we can do on this side.
-
>....Still too risky to use a finger though, we still don't know the full extent of what we can do on this side.
Agreed.
> Give up for now. Hopefully we'll get some answers eventually, but lets walk around a little more.
-
> Give up for now. Hopefully we'll get some answers eventually, but lets walk around a little more.
>Right. No point in just sticking around wondering what the hell is going on.
>You retract the tip of your sword back into your and leave. The unlit Bonfire will still be there next time you come; you have a pretty good feeling about that.
>Where to now, you wonder? No where in particular you need to be.
>Your phone vibrates once. A text. You check it and see that it'd be nice if you could pick up some garlic on the way home.
-
> Well might as well head for the grocery store then.
> Look around and mull a little over what kinds of things have changed since we've been "away".
-
> Well might as well head for the grocery store then.
> Look around and mull a little over what kinds of things have changed since we've been "away".
>Another day, another quest.
>To be honest, really not a whole lot. Everything's pretty similar to the way you left it, but that's different enough.
>Someone comes around the corner and you really have to refrain from wincing. Someone comes by in a bicycle and you get a horrid flashback to the bonewheel skeletons in the Catacombs and Ariamis. Dogs...ugh, don't mention the dogs. Firebreathing dogs from Blighttown, bloodthirsty ones in the Undead Burg...
>This place hasn't really changed at all. It's just you.
>Food...food is sort of a novelty. You need it now; never did in Lordran. But at the same time it takes a really long while for you to actually become hungry.
>You slip a can of soda and some other snacks into the basket. Skirmishing with that...guy...made you a little hungrier.
>As you stand in line to the cashier, your eyes widen as something alerts you, a phantom indicator you haven't seen in all too short of a time.
>...Dark Spirit ----- has Invaded!
>...Dark Spirit ----- has Invaded!
>...Dark Spirit ----- has Invaded!
>...Dark Spirit ----- has Invaded!
>...Dark Spirit ----- has Invaded!
>----
>What the-?! How many?!
>Invaders. In the search for Humanity to keep one sane, many of the Chosen Undead (yourself no exception) resorted to attacking others in different timelines to take theirs. But as time passed, sometimes you'd all just invade to see another face.
>Regardless, the timelines of Lordran could only ever keep two invaders stable at any time; for this many to appear, something must be...
>Invaders always popped in at the most inopportune times, but this really takes the cake!
>No one in the store reacts. Not here, somewhere else...
-
> Keep an eye out as we pay for the stuff and then get out of there.
-
> Keep an eye out as we pay for the stuff and then get out of there.
>Eyes open. Wide open. You make your purchase without much trouble and head home.
>Where are they? It's been a few minutes now...well, no, that doesn't really matter. Invaders came in all flavors. Some just ran up to your face and started a fight. Others bowed, giving a semblance of honor before fighting you to the death. And others stalked.
>There wasn't any particular time limit to how long an Invader can stay. It's just preference.
>Could the mysterious interloper be using the invasion indicators as psychological warfare? It's working. Depending on who else is in the area, they would've seen it to.
>As you come up to your front door, your eyes widen again in realization.
>Shit, does Priscilla know?
-
> Crap.
> We don't anything about where she is besides the fact she's in the city right?
> Either way, drop off the stuff and grab a snack while we try and look for her.
-
> Crap.
> We don't anything about where she is besides the fact she's in the city right?
> Either way, drop off the stuff and grab a snack while we try and look for her.
>"Hey, mom, I gotta slip out for a bit. I think a friend might be in trouble."
>"Be careful!" she answers in a sing song manner. You're not quite sure she connected trouble with actual life-in-danger trouble.
>Well, now we come across the problem of how to find her.
>The phone number is still there, probably, so you could trace that. Trusting your instinct hasn't failed you yet though, and it might be faster in the end.
-
> Do we have a cell phone? If so, we can grab the number and call her while following our instinct.
-
> Do we have a cell phone? If so, we can grab the number and call her while following our instinct.
>Right, good idea. You pick the number off the phone, dial it in, and run off. You pick up your catalyst and shield along the way; seeing the very wide shield slip into your comparatively thin left arm is a little surreal.
>Ring, ring. Take a left, straight forward. Look around.
>Dammit, no answer.
>Right. Cross the street, through a park, over a street. Slip past a crosswalk, jump a few fences. If you aren't wrong, then...
>The severed halves of a red phantom, an Invader in heavy armor, slam into the wall behind you covered in ice.
>Well.
-
>"I guess he knew to 'Split' when things were grim. Too bad he didn't 'make the cut', I bet he was a pretty 'cool' guy."
>Ah, that old dry wit. Been a while since we got to use that...Even if it's bad.
>May as well check out what's going down!
-
>"I guess he knew to 'Split' when things were grim. Too bad he didn't 'make the cut', I bet he was a pretty 'cool' guy."
>Ah, that old dry wit. Been a while since we got to use that...Even if it's bad.
>May as well check out what's going down!
>The impromptu projectiles crashed after you cleared the a fence; quite the welcome.
>Of course, as usual, the slain phantom melts into a bloodstain; a coalesce of souls left behind when an Undead dies, there to be collected. Bloodstains often transcended the timelines and could be used by other Undead to see how the poor sap died. Sort of a warning method. But Invaders only left behind chunks of souls to be absorbed.
>You gladly take your fill and draw your blade.
>Pretty large yard, really nice landscaping. Big house too, and a pool to boot. Very nice bit of property here.
>Priscilla standing atop the frozen pool, her scythe in both hands and a chill wind exuding from her, add to the image. She's shorter than she was in Ariamis, but still very tall. Her fuzzy tail and the odd scale are still present, and she seems as pristine as usual.
>Of course, you've never seen her in such...tight...clothing, at least in comparison to the voluminous fur robes she wore in her domain. Loose jeans and a slightly large t-shirt regardless, she looks...well, best not go there.
>Priscilla lowers her weapon and steps off the ice-topped pool, the frozen water melting as she does. You notice that, as usual, she's barefoot. The half-dragon smiles as she comes up to you; again, still taller, but at least you don't have to crane your neck to see her anymore. "Coming to my rescue, good knight? I'm afraid you're a little too late," she teases.
-
>Smirk slightly. "Hey, I can't let you have all the fun now can I? Even if my stats are lower than they used to be, I can still 'bust heads', as they say on this side."
>"Besides, You must've seen the warnings too. Usually only one shows up, but five warnings in a row? That isn't normal, even by Lordran Standards."
-
>The warning always flashed three times, didn't it? Are we sure there were five seperate warnings, and not just multiple flashes of a smaller number?
-
>Smirk slightly. "Hey, I can't let you have all the fun now can I? Even if my stats are lower than they used to be, I can still 'bust heads', as they say on this side."
>"Besides, You must've seen the warnings too. Usually only one shows up, but five warnings in a row? That isn't normal, even by Lordran Standards."
>"Warnings? Stats? I'm not quite sure what...oh, yes, the intricacies of the Undead." She looks off to the side with a look of whimsy; she was always quite perturbed by your existence, along with the other Undead. For someone who can kill anything, something that doesn't die when killed would obviously be confusing. "You must stop forgetting you and the other Undead the only one who can see those odd 'menus' and such, good knight."
>The warning always flashed three times, didn't it? Are we sure there were five seperate warnings, and not just multiple flashes of a smaller number?
>There were a lot of warnings; you lost count after five just out of sheer surprise that something like that was happening. If you had to guess...maybe a dozen invaders, in total. Five would be a lower estimate. A much lower estimate.
>"In any case," Priscilla interjects. "The immediate danger is over. I'm surprised you managed to find me so fast, good knight. Your sense of direction is impeccable as usual. And, of course, welcome to my new home. Much warmer than what I'm used to. Apparently I'm an artist that's provided for by my 'father', or at least that's what the past memories of this body are telling me. Using my ice powers to sculpt is rather fun, actually, and..."
>Oh dear, here we go.
-
>It's been a while since we've gotten to actually hear her ramble about something that actually pleases her though, and isn't just off-topic ramblings.
>Besides, she never got to sculpt in Lordran, did she? Who knows, we might pick up a few new ideas for magic in the doing.
-
>It's been a while since we've gotten to actually hear her ramble about something that actually pleases her though, and isn't just off-topic ramblings.
>Besides, she never got to sculpt in Lordran, did she? Who knows, we might pick up a few new ideas for magic in the doing.
>You just stand there and smile. Might as well let her.
>Might be an interesting application. White Dragon Breath did create a line of crystals, but they're short enough to hop over; the real damage there was having the line of crystals go over you, growing on you as easily as it did on the floor.
>Suddenly, you hear the soft thud of armor. Both you and Priscilla are on edge immediately, turned towards the source of the sound: another Invader.
>Light armor, effective for how much it weighed. A long, twisting staff...no, spear. The Moonlight Butterfly Horn? A somewhat powerful weapon crafted from the soul of said butterfly, it's damage was entirely magic and proved useful to you for a while before you improved your dexterity and strength more. And...a Catalyst in the left hand. The Tin Crystallization Catalyst. At the cost of halving the number of casts for your spells, it was the most powerful of all the catalysts. And...the Crown of Dusk. An amplifier of magic, both in and out. Spells used and spells taken would prove extremely potent with that on.
>This guy simply rises from his roll, probably from over the fence, and bows deeply.
>...Wait...
>He reaches into a pocket and quickly consumes something; a soft green glow covers him. Green Blossom, a bitter herb that improves stamina recovery...
>This guy...he's for real. He's not invading, he's asking for a duel.
>And then he raises his catalyst into the air...and casts Pursuers. Five pitch black orbs float silently around him, ready to be launched at the nearest hostile.
>You...you smile. This guy knows what he's doing.
>Priscilla must sense it too, as she does nothing. "Shall I let you handle this one, good knight?" Actually, she seems a bit amused.
-
>"Make sure nobody else inturrupts, would you?"
-
>"Make sure nobody else inturrupts, would you?"
>She courteously bows out without a word. A bright, cloudy light surrounds the yard, barring all exit and entry.
>You swap out your shield for Logan's Catalyst and quickly cast your own set of Crystal Homing Soulmass, followed by Crystal Magic Weapon. The Balder Side Sword is wreathed in crystal once more.
>He bows again; an action you mirror.
>Chivalry was odd in Lordran. Sometime Invaders just wanted a good fight. This guy...well, seems like he's one.
>Fine by you then.
>He handsprings towards you and brings his weapon down in a diagonal swing. You slip out of the way with a roll of your own and deflect the followup lunge with your shield, wincing under the surge of soul energies that travel up your arm. Even if blocked, that Butterfly Horn is dangerous...
>Both sets of satellite spells fire off in the meanwhile, colliding with each other and canceling the other out, the straight trajectories of your Soulmass versus the curved ones of his Pursuers. A surprise...and not just to you. The Invader seems somewhat confused as well. That's never happened.
>You weave and roll out of the way as he forces the distance between you two with the Butterfly Horn's superior range. Can't take too many blocked hits either; same result in the end. In that case...
>Once again you swap out your shield for your Catalyst, this time bringing it up to cast a Dark Bead. A row of pitch black orbs blast out, covering the area in front of you in a fan shape.
>He smartly rolls backwards to avoid it, as you aimed at the floor. Aiming straight for him would let him roll under, which would be problematic.
>The roll forces even more distance between you.
>Perfect. A Crystal Soul Spear flies, forcing him this time to roll to the side. That brings him closer to the fence...
>White Dragon Breath. A row of crystals races along the floor, corralling him even closer.
>And in the split moment that he's recovering from the repeated evasions, you charge in without even swapping your catalyst out.
>He throws out another piercing attack, but you predicted that desperation move!
>Your catalyst flies out, slapping the Butterfly Horn aside and leaving him wide open. The shock up your arm again is no matter when you riposte, sending your blade clean through his abdomen.
>A good strategy, in the end. Spacing with the Moonlight Butterfly Horn, waiting for an error in movement, then punishing. But that strategy had a very specific range that it worked at, and you simply countered by staying away rather than futilely try to get close. What kind of crazy man tries to get away from a spear user instead of get closer, anyway?
>He melts away into a Bloodstain as you release your blade from the confines of his gut.
>Clapping is heard as the cloudy light disappears. "Well done, good knight. But I assume that isn't the last of them, from what you were saying."
-
> "Yeah."
> Is there anywhere nearby that might be better for privacy and terrain?
> Either way, head back to Priscilla.
-
>Gather up the souls he left behind.
-
>And make a nod to him as we do so. Gotta respect the guy for having some measure of chivalry after all. "I gotta admit, that guy knew what he was doing. But who'd try to move away from a Lancer? That's so crazy even I wouldn't try it, which says quite a lot about it."
-
> "Yeah."
> Is there anywhere nearby that might be better for privacy and terrain?
> Either way, head back to Priscilla.
>In town? Not really. Maybe an empty lot, maybe an empty warehouse or whatever. A shipping yard off the highway? No clue.
>Priscilla smiles as you come back to her, sword resting on your shoulder.
>Gather up the souls he left behind.
>After you pick up the souls, of course. Quite a considerable amount; combined with the poor sap from earlier, more than enough to start working back towards peak capacity.
>...Are they trying to feed you souls?
>...that's an interesting possibility. Maybe they, whoever 'they' are, want you back to full strength?
>And make a nod to him as we do so. Gotta respect the guy for having some measure of chivalry after all. "I gotta admit, that guy knew what he was doing. But who'd try to move away from a Lancer? That's so crazy even I wouldn't try it, which says quite a lot about it."
>You do so and say that with a bit of irony. After all, he was the lancer in this case and you were the crazy idiot who decided to keep distance from him.
>Priscilla simply bursts out laughing. "You joke more, good knight!" She plants her scythe into the floor and holds her sides, nearly folding over from laughter. "It doesn't suit you at all, and yet it truly does!"
>Well, you have been cracking more jokes since you got back home.
-
>Chuckle a bit. "Well, it just feels natural to joke like this while I'm like this. I have to say, that fellow you iced earlier? Terrible time for him to come apart like that, wouldn't you say? But I suppose he knew he needed to 'split'."
>Aaaah, puns. They're bad, but good. And it's a rare occasion we get to make her crack up like this after all.
-
>Chuckle a bit. "Well, it just feels natural to joke like this while I'm like this. I have to say, that fellow you iced earlier? Terrible time for him to come apart like that, wouldn't you say? But I suppose he knew he needed to 'split'."
>Aaaah, puns. They're bad, but good. And it's a rare occasion we get to make her crack up like this after all.
>And now she's really folded over in laughter. "I beg of you, cease this foolery!" she manages, somehow.
>A bit passes. You have to admit, her laughter sweeps you up pretty quickly.
>But everything ends sooner or later. Silence comes over the both of you.
>"How many more?" she asks, picking up her scythe. The sight of the thing still gives you shivers.
>You shake your head. No clue there.
>"Any idea when?"
>Another shake.
>"Why?"
>One last one.
>Simply put, neither of you know anything. Tch. That's never helpful.
>She sighs and pulls back a strand of hair. "Have you any clue if there is someone else who may have an inkling, good knight?"
-
> Ah. She doesn't know about that guy we met does she?
> Better tell her about him and how he seemed to know about the situation.
-
>"Hmm...I'm not sure. There might be someone, but I haven't the foggiest on how to contact him."
>He probably would know, wouldn't he? Given his behaviors.
-
> Ah. She doesn't know about that guy we met does she?
> Better tell her about him and how he seemed to know about the situation.
>"Hmm...I'm not sure. There might be someone, but I haven't the foggiest on how to contact him."
>He probably would know, wouldn't he? Given his behaviors.
>One of her eyebrows raises slightly. "Oh? Do elaborate."
>You do so, and bear witness to her brow slowly furrowing as you exposit.
>Once you finish, she reaches behind her. "Tell me good night, did that second knife look like my own dagger?"
>Slender ivory with a woven hand guard. As beautiful as the last time you saw it, though this time she gives you a chance to really look at it. And, like her Scythe, just glancing at it fills you with a sense of dread, a fear for your life.
>"...Yes," you respond. "It looked different, but it's definitely a similar feeling."
>You couldn't quite identify it last time, but when you saw that man's longer blade it seemed...odd. Disjointed. Separate.
>Priscilla hums in thought. "Beings who embody concepts, like myself and 'death', often times obtain weapons and tools that embody said concepts as much as we do. I suppose Gwyn wielded a blade of flame?" she asks. You nod. "That would be his. My scythe and dagger are mine own; perhaps he is something similar. As to what he may embody...well, you say he moved instantly from place to place? Perhaps speed. Movement? Flight? No, if it was flight he'd have wings of some sort..."
>She starts up again, but this time it's pretty relevant.
-
>let's let her have at it then.
>"Since it was disjointed, and separate....Maybe something like Dimensions perhaps? I can't imagine how that could be possible though, but it's an option."
-
> "And if not dimensions, what about time?"
-
>let's let her have at it then.
>"Since it was disjointed, and separate....Maybe something like Dimensions perhaps? I can't imagine how that could be possible though, but it's an option."
> "And if not dimensions, what about time?"
>"Perhaps, perhaps, it's all possible. There's really nothing that this is limited to, and it's certainly possible that he might embody one of those-"
>"Got a good head on your shoulders after all. Good guesses."
>!!!
>Priscilla's cloudy light barrier rises, enclosing the back yard once more. Both of you are immediately on edge, weapons drawn and ready to strike.
>Him again. With both hands in his pockets, you and Priscilla could conceivably jump him before he could even react, but there's confidence in that relaxed posture of his.
>"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Crossbreed Priscilla of the Lifehunt," he greets, bowing with a flourish. "I came here to ensure that you'd be safe considering the numerous dimensional intrusions that just occurred, but it seems your friend has that covered. Not that he really needed to." He points a thumb towards the fence and smirks. "Quite the finisher, I'd say. Never seen someone split quite that fast."
>"I already made that joke," you say, twitching. He grins.
>"Ah, my bad."
>"Who are you, clock-keeper?" Priscilla says suddenly. There's...there's fear there. She's afraid.
>This guy is no joke, and from what she said then...he's a time manipulator?
>He simply bows again. "You figured that out quite quickly," he states, mirth in his voice.
>"We dwellers of Lordran are particularly sensitive to time, clock-keeper. It's for that reason that my knight here could even notice your blatant intrusion into the timeflow, along with being the reason I could react fast enough to now trap you here; tell me, you can stop time, can't you? Amongst other things."
>Manipulating time, beyond out right reversing it, wouldn't help him if he was trapped in a box. Smart of Priscilla. The only problem is if he decides to get violent...
>The clock-keeper, as Priscilla calls him, smiles. "Indeed." That's all he says before looking off in the distance. "You're not letting me go until I answer you, aren't you?" he asks, glancing at the cloudy light. Priscilla nods.
>Laughter. Pure laughter. "Alright, alright. I can't hurt either of you, too important, and really should've been more careful about revealing myself. Ah well. So what do you want to ask?" He accepts his folly with courtesy and grace.
-
>Look to Priscilla. "Leave this to me, I'll let you ask a few questions once I'm done....Provided that what I intend to ask doesn't already cover what you plan to."
>Chuckle in that typically wry way of ours.
>"First off, What's been going on with these dimensional intrusions? And how many of those Invaders appeared?! I lost track after the first five alerts, on account of how surprising it was."
>"And secondly, there's the matter of Bonfires. Remember how I said I wasn't at my best earlier? Well, without a specific sort, I can't use the souls I've accumulated to do so."
-
> "Also it'd kinda be nice to know your name."
-
>Look to Priscilla. "Leave this to me, I'll let you ask a few questions once I'm done....Provided that what I intend to ask doesn't already cover what you plan to."
>Chuckle in that typically wry way of ours.
>"First off, What's been going on with these dimensional intrusions? And how many of those Invaders appeared?! I lost track after the first five alerts, on account of how surprising it was."
>"And secondly, there's the matter of Bonfires. Remember how I said I wasn't at my best earlier? Well, without a specific sort, I can't use the souls I've accumulated to do so."
> "Also it'd kinda be nice to know your name."
>"Izayoi. Mackenzie Izayoi. Elegant and Imperfect Butler. Seven years ago I was involved in a little interdimensional adventure of my own, and since then I've been watching the worlds, trying to protect this one from any intruders. Myself and several coworkers," he corrects. "I can't travel them myself, without another's help, but with the ability to manipulate time comes the ability to manipulate space. How else would I see and hear and breath if time was stopped?"
>"In any case, you two and various others have been the first travelers in a while. The red phantoms seem to be puppets of something larger, something which I speculate may be the thing that sent you and brought you back in the first place. In terms of numbers, I'm not entirely sure myself. There was a massive swarm of them, and it was impossible to count them all."
>"As for bonfires, I'm not sure. I know what happened to you in Lordran, but some of the details still confuse me. How exactly did you stay sane after dying to Gwyn so many times? How did you even kill him to begin with?"
>Mackenzie smiles. "Good to see our rematch is still on your mind."
>A sigh. "You scare me, you know. In terms of statistics, if an outcome has even a fraction of a chance of happening, the chances of it succeeding after multiple attempts begin to rise exponentially. You're an embodiment of that. You can literally throw yourself at a problem until it simply folds under the sheer pressure of chance. You, and all the other Chosen Undead that have returned, don't die when you're killed, in short, and that's simply terrifying." A shake of his head. "You have to understand our concerns when about a dozen of you suddenly returned from that place, emancipated from several years of inaction or no."
-
>"I doubt that I'll be much of a danger really. I think that I was one of the quieter ones."
>Then smirk slightly. "But who's to say that I didn't go mad? You'd be surprised what you can do when the limitations of common sense no-longer mean much. I suppose you might say that's how I pulled it off in the end."
>Make an especially pointed look in Priscilla's direction as we say that. She knows what we're talking about after all!
>"....But that bit about the Invaders is quite troubling....Merely puppets....? But the most recent one I defeated actually had some measure of chivalry, in that it specifically wanted a direct duel. Unlike many others who simply desired to fight."
-
>Priscilla throws you a sympathetic look, but, well...
>He frowns severely, eyes taking on a sharp look. no trace of amusement here. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? If you were insane when you finished it, then, well, what's to say you aren't now? What's to say you aren't under its, whatever it may be, control as well?" Mackenzie sighs, a hand running through his hair. "Please don't overcomplicate my job. I want to help you guys, I really do, but if you're going to say something like that then someone else, someone more powerful than myself and a lot less tolerant of wild cards like yourself, may just misinterpret that and decide to excise you."
>You get the feeling that he's referring to someone specific.
>"And as for being puppets, who knows. I know about as much as you do in that regard. It's easy to bend directions and influence people so that they're still the same, just with altered goals; complete drones are rarely as useful."
-
>"Hmm...Well, either way, I doubt there's much to worry about from myself at least. Until I can somehow manage a Bonfire, I'm stuck at this pitifully weak power rating. Besides, there's a difference between crazy, and crazy. Know what I mean?"
-
>"Hmm...Well, either way, I doubt there's much to worry about from myself at least. Until I can somehow manage a Bonfire, I'm stuck at this pitifully weak power rating. Besides, there's a difference between crazy, and crazy. Know what I mean?"
>"I do. And I'm honestly more afraid of the kind of crazy you're implying you are."
>"Is there anything else you want to ask?"
-
>"Well. Personally, I hope it's the good kind. You should've seen how much Priscilla here was laughing when I dropped a few witty remarks not unlike the one you made recently."
>Smirk ever so slightly. "I have to say, she certainly put his ambitions 'on ice'."