The long trip was soon to end. The age of Fire will finally be preserved. The undead soul readied his gear, and ate his herbs while he could, enchanting his blades as well. The battle that was surely ahead of him was soon to begin, and he was ready.
He took a step towards the large door, then another, and another. He slowed down with each step, as he slowly felt fear rise from within his very soul.
Perhaps he wasn't ready? Perhaps this final battle will be his final moment in life, despite the everlasting curse of immortality granted to him.
No, he shouldn't think of these things. He'll fight the fight until his body screams for no more, or until he wins, and he WILL. He can almost smell his victory! Days were spent training for this moment, and he was finally going to stoke the fires, and prevent the age of dark. He had to. He needed to...
He pushed open the doors, and looked forward. The area was completely barren, but there, in the middle of the large room, was a light, which shone down on the fires of the earth. It was a beautiful sight, which would be even prettier if the fires had been stoked. They were soon to be extinguished, and the chosen undead, Oscar, had to light the flame by sacrificing himself to it. He looked around, wondering where Lord Gwyn had went. He was supposed to be here, protecting the flame, wasn't he?
Guess all that preparation was for nothing...But that foreboding feeling of something not being right lingered in the dark air. He quickly sped forward to the unlit flame. He only had a couple of minutes before the age of dark would come. He tired out quickly, as he stopped a couple feet from the flame. He had never seen such a beautiful sigh in his life, despite it being so dark. The very thing that gave every single undead a life on the surface. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes...
Until the dead carcass of Lord Gwyn fell onto the flames, bursting his rotted flesh everywhere with deadly trails of fire spewing behind them. Oscar, startled by this new development, looked skyward, and saw only a dark mimic of himself staring back from the ceiling. It dropped from the ceiling, and had its sword ready for a deadly plunging attack. Oscar quickly rolled out of the way, and upon standing up, raised his shield to block an oncoming downward slash from the impostor.
He waited for another attack, and saw that none came, and so he lowered his shield from his face to look at his new opponent. "Well then, it seems thou wishes for an age of fire..." The fake said, as he brandished his sword. "A noble sacrifice for a noble warrior, but art thou sure this is the path thine shall take?"
The real Oscar readied his weapons, with a determination set upon him. Such a ruffian shall not stop him from his quest! No matter what it does! He lunged forward, only to have his advancement blocked by the dark spirits shield.
"Surely you jest! Does thou honestly think you can take on thine self?! HA!" The poser attacked with an upward strike, with great strength that no undead could possess, sending Oscar flying back. He quickly got back up on his feet, and charged forward with a cry of battle! A fury of slashes, strikes, and thrusts, clashed together brutally. Suddenly, the fake brushed aside an attack with his shield, leaving Oscar open for a horrifically damaging attack, as the impostors sword went straight through his gut. Oscar gasped in pain, as the blade slid out from his open wound. He fell back, overtaken with exhaustion and weakness. He could not best himself.
He clinged onto as much of his life as he can, as he slowly attempted to get up, only to get choked by his enemy, who held him into the air with little effort. "Oscar, Oscar, Oscar....When will you learn?" He said, as he walked away from the fire, which was no doubt going to run out. A dead body can only keep the fire lit for so long...even if it's the dead body of Lord Gwyn himself.
Oscar was suddenly smacked across the face. "Pay attention when someone speaks to you, weakling!" The fake said, with anger so hot, that it would boil a mans skin. "I will not have some kind of lower leveled undead such as yourself stop my quest to become the dark lord!" He said, as he threw Oscar far. "And I'll make sure that you stay out of my way!" He said, as he took out a spear and charged forward. Oscar had time to escape, and he barely managed to dodge the attack, as his muscles ached and screamed for mercy, however, this move was in vain, as he was skewered at the end of the spear, with an extremely strong will to survive for as long as he could. He grabbed on to the spear, and used it to carry his enemy up. He quickly smashed the fake down, and slowly dislodged himself from the spear. He was bleeding heavily. One fatal mistake, and it would be the end.
Suddenly, he was grabbed by the neck again, and raised up. "You know, I could kill you now, but then how would thou get rid of thee? That darksign of yours will surely bring you back. It's a fight that is inevitable...Unless..." The dark phantom chuckled like a mad man, as he walked to the farthest reaches of the room, where there stood an odd, circular shaped alter of some sort. It quickly was illuminated, and a black fog erupted from the middle, and filled up the circle. "Have fun in a new world, Oscar!" He said, as he threw Oscar into the portal with little effort.
"Have a...'safe'... trip..."
Oscar had completely blacked out after that. His blood loss refused to let him wake up again, yet his faith in himself refused to let it end here. He had to get up. He needed to survive. He attempted to move, but his joints were locked, and he could only fidget about. All he had to do was open his eyes... and when he did, he saw what looked like the cleanest ceiling ever. He's never seen anything like the room he had been in. Everything looked so...clean and...safe. This somewhat scared Oscar, being in such an unfamiliar place and whatnot. It almost made him want to run, but the pain of his body refused to let him move an inch. He just had to wait to heal, and seeing as he wasn't on the floor, as the softness that made contact with his back would suggest, It would probably happen after a good nap...
And just as Oscar thought that, he slowly began to close his eyelids, almost drifting off to sleep, before he heard the door creak open. He froze, and closed his eyes. He can probably catch this possible assassin off guard by making it think he was asleep. He heard the sound of...some four legged animal... making its way over to the side of his bed. He was starting to sweat, and pressure began to take hold on Oscar. Was this really it? Was he going to die now? If so, then why even put him in a bed? Maybe to dull out the pain? On the bright side, it will probably be quick...
He waited for something to happen, and noticed that nothing did. He slowly opened his eyes, and gulped. His throat was raspy and dry, and he felt that he had enough strength to get up. Which he did, painfully. He groaned, as he got up, and heard a gasp beside him, before seeing a white animal of some sort rush out of the door infront of him. He didn't pay much attention to it, though, and didn't get to see it completely. All he knew was that he had to look for his weapons...and his clothes, apparently.
He slowly and carefully got up from the bed, pain making his knees wobbly. He's been in worse pain, so he should be able to deal with it...
He looked around, and saw his armor on a chair nearby. He hastily put it on, and sighed. That's when he saw his precious estus flask on the ground. He picked it up and thanked Lord Gwyn for this blessing, before greedily drinking it all until the very last drop. He felt completely rejuvenated, as all his wounds sealed up and healed. Every ache in his body had completely vanished, and he felt great about it. He looked around and saw that his sword and shield were sitting nicely in a corner. He picked them up, and placed them in their rightful areas.
He held a prayer to the gods close to his heart, and sheathed his blade, sensing no danger in the imminent vicinity. He would rather try to not make such a commotion out of the entirety of the castle.
