Chapters I am the Gravelord Servant.
Hello. My name is Bernard Shaw. I suppose that I'm a nobody. Just your average gamer, trying to make his way through life. Then again, I am slightly above average in height. I stand at six foot tall, and I'm skinny. My hair is rarely cut, and it's scruffy, like a brown mop. Like many guys, I imagine that I'm pretty fit, but most people aren't impressed with my limp arm-noodles. Overall, I'm just your average slacker twenty-year old.
I meandered along, smiling at nothing in particular. It was a nice day in Adelaide- no clouds in the sky and sunny. My iPod was playing music in my ears, and I walked with a spring in my step. For the first time in a long while, my face was free of worry and doubt. After all, what use is there in worrying about the future? Nobody in the crowds cared at all.
Then, somebody tapped my shoulder.
"Hello there." I turned around, to meet this mysterious stranger.
"Hmm?" The fellow who had tapped my shoulder was quite tall, about seven feet tall. The man was also quite skinny, skin pulled taught against his skull. Interestingly for the warm weather, he wore a long, black, fake fur coat, that reached almost to the ground. I looked at him.
"Good morning."
He tilted his head. "Is it? I suppose it would be; however, I feel as if it is too warm." His thin, raspy voice was a bit odd for somebody of his height, but I ignored that; it's rude to point out little things like that.
"If you're too hot, then maybe you should take off that huge coat of yours. It would help," I added hastily, as his beetle-black eyes glared into mine like daggers. We stared for a bit, and I broke away first. He tapped his chin with a bony finger, apparently contemplating life.
"Well, I'll talk to you later, Bernard."
With that, he stalked off on his long legs, disappearing into the throng of the streets. I stared after him, confused. Why on Earth did he talk to me? Well, in any case it didn't rightly matter. I stalked off, replacing my headphones. Still, the question of the stranger buzzed around in my head like a malignant bee. I paused, about to cross the road.
Okay, how DID he know my name? Alright, let's have a look at the facts: I do have a Facebook page that I have rarely, if ever, used. Every other piece of my web presence is under the most private settings that I could get. Either that, or I met him before and forgot. Still standing there, I shook my head. Unlikely. He's got a very distinctive face. Plus, I'm not exactly a social butterfly. So... Facebook page is the only possible answer.
I felt pleased with that minor bit of deduction, with so little to go on. Still, it wasn't a perfect answer. There were other possibilities, such as him being a stalker or a serial killer. Either way, maybe going to the police station and reporting a possible stalker or serial killer would be the way to go.
I stepped out onto the road and kept walking, music blaring in my ears. I could dimly hear people telling me to watch where I was going. Why should I? I turned around, and I saw a car coming at me. The only thing that I could do was stand stock still, body screaming at me to move, but I couldn't, not in the split second before it hit.
When it hit me, the first thing I noticed was the pain. There wasn't as much as you'd think. I mean, yes, I could feel my chest collapsing like a plastic bag underfoot, and my stomach being smashed, but overall, it was just above bearable. Another thing is that time itself seemed to go into slow motion, as my body pumped adrenalin through my system. I watched the driver's face go from angry guy to horrified in what felt like an hour. Then, time sped up and I hit the tarmac. The pain flooded me, but because of my crushed organs, I couldn't scream. I wanted to. Oh, I wanted to. The pain was unbearable now, and all I wanted was for it to stop. The cliché blackness rushing in swallowed me.
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When I awoke again, I felt a lot better. I scrambled up, patting myself down. It was at that point that I realised that I was dead. I turned around, still on the street I died on. The whole street was filled with policemen.
"Damn right, bastard ran me over." My face contorted into a snarl. That bloody fuckmuppet was doing seventy in the middle of the city! And I just happened to walk out when he was on his mad rampage of reckless driving! If he didn't get the everliving hell beaten out of him in prison, I was going to haunt him until he did.
"It was your own fault, you know." The voice sounded vaguely familiar. I turned around, and fell backwards.
Standing there, ten feet tall and peculiar, was the man, only, it seemed as if he was... realer , somehow. I know that 'realer' isn't really a word, but that's all I could think of. His huge black coat now looked like real animal hair. His arms were now bones, yellowing with age. His skull leered at me, at my fear. In his left hand, he carried a huge, curving sword, with a corpse as the handle of the blade.
This was a figure that I was intensely familiar with. Gravelord Nito, one of the bearers of the Lord Souls. A boss in Dark Souls, leader of the Gravelord Covenant. Nito, the First of the Dead. He seemed to be amused with my fear. I carefully arranged my face into a neutral expression and bowed. What else does one do when confronted with a god? "Nito. I know that you were the skeletal man from before."
He nodded. "That was not a very intelligent observation, but it was good. Still, what a stupid way to die; run over by a car because you didn't notice that it was a green light."
I looked at my crushed body, still with a positively stupid look of surprise on its face. "I can't argue with you there. But why did you choose to talk with me? Did you engineer my death?"
Gravelord Nito shook his head. "You mortals. Thinking that I would even manipulate your deaths. Why should I even bother; you mortals drive yourselves to death anyway. I had no influence on your death. That was your own fault."
I wanted to argue, but it was true. I HAD just walked out into the road like a moron. Gravelord Nito sighed. "In any case, I have an offer for you."
I glared at him. "What kind of offer?"
He laughed, a dry chuckle that sent shivers down my ethreal spine. "There is a game that is happening; a game that gods have played for millions of years. The Chess Game of the Gods, it is called. Currently, it is set in a world known as Equestria. Know you of it?"
I nodded slowly. As well as being a Dark Souls junkie, I was also what I termed a 'casual brony.' Mainly, that meant that I watched the good episodes and avoided the bad like a plague. It was pretty amusing in places, but not someting that I would obsessively watch.
"Yes, I know of it. Why are the Gods even playing there?"
Nito looked at me. "It is an interesting world. One of the gods there, Discord, started the game."
That... was not surprising. But I had another question for him. "Why me?
In answer, he chuckled. "Well, for one thing, I chose you because you possess a surprisingly sharp mind for a complete and utter slacker. It's wasted on your chosen profession. For another, you have always joined my covenant, and I always try to look out for my servants.."
"Bullshit."
He just looked at me. "Fair enough. Plus... I always offer every living creature that dies a chance to work in my domain. So, will you accept?"
I didn't know how to respond to that. Sure, I joined his covenant on every playthrough, but that was because the Gravelord Servant Sword looked extremely cool. Speaking of... "Ah, Gravelord, I... I need help with this."
Gravelord Nito looked at me. "Speak."
I rubbed my hands together; this was going to be a big one. "Alright, let me get a couple of things straight. You said, 'Chess Game of the Gods. " This implies that there are other gods out there, with their own pawns marshalling. Correct?"
Nito nodded. "Now, THAT was an intelligent observation. Keep talking."
"So, if you're all playing this game, then I presume that there is some sort of purpose to it? That's obvious, you don't seem like the type of person who does something for no reason at all."
"How very observant of you. So, what are you saying?"
I paced. "Now, if there's one thing that I know for sure about gods, assuming that there are pantheons of the classical gods, is that you guys, well, you like to cheat. That's understandable. So, you wouldn't just send me there without an advantage. Hell, even God with a capital G gave away advantages."
"You're still missing something important."
I rubbed my temples. "What on earth could I be missing? I mean, it's pretty obvious. A 'Chess Game.' Although, if there are 'gods,' plural, then it's really more like a game of shogi or similar. Regardless, I don't even need that much evidence: The Iliad."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
It all clicked. "Gods get bored, same as us. So... you just, well, play games with mortals. Usually where we kill things for you. This is going to be like Troy, isn't it? People senselessly bashing each other, and just when it seems as if peace might be achieved, then the gods swoop in and kill common sense and logic, and we go at it again!"
Nito shook his head, bones rattling. "The gods are not allowed to interfere with the affairs of mortals or other pawns. Only should your mind be invaded will I be allowed to interfere."
Now that I knew what the deal was here, I glared into his empty eyesockets. "Knowing that you are sending me there and forcing me to fight for your own amusement and personal benefits, I don't exactly trust you, but I know that there's one thing that you could safely offer me... membership into your covenant. With that, I gain a powerful sword and a Miracle. Can I presume that I am allowed this, by the rules of this game?"
"Yes. So you wish to join my covenant? How very intelligent of you; you want every advantage that is mine to give. Very well."
He held out a hand, and a very familiar sword appeared in his free hand. It had a curved blade, and appeared to be made with a corpse for a handle. I gripped the hilt reverently.
"Bernard Shaw, do you take this blade, and join my covenant? Do you swear to become a Gravelord Servant, and to serve me well? Do you swear to collect the souls of those your blade fells, and offer them as tribute to me?"
"I swear." Gravelord Nito grinned; at least, I think he grinned.
"Good. Then we have a contract." I felt myself fading.
"Fare-thee well, my Servant."
For the second time that day, I felt myself fading, fading, fading away...
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When I woke up, it was not to the blue sky that I had grown so accustomed to. Instead, it was to the feeling of mud, sucking me down and pulling me under. I pushed myself up, sludge dripping off of my bones as I freed myself from the marsh. Bones...
I looked at my hand. Thick bones, pale yellow and caked with grime, already drying on me. I flexed my three fingers and thumb, feeling them move. I was apparently held together by some arcane, incomprehensible force, like magnetism. My face felt longer, and probing it I found a muzzle. How very interesting; I appeared to be a skeletal Diamond Dog. I looked down at my legs- yep, exactly as I expected. I seemed to have slightly better proportions than the average Diamond Dog as well. Experimentally, I poked myself in the eyes, and was rewarded with feeling my fingers enter my empty skull. That was strange.
I looked over myself again. You know what, scratch strange, this whole new body was a bad situation. I giggled. I spent about a minute just sitting still, staring at nothing. Then, the muck pulled at me, and I arose to prevent myself from becoming an archaeological discovery. Along the way, I decided to roll about in the mud, for the simple reason that it would camouflage me with the night. After that, I decided to resolve to keep moving. However, something made me pull back. I felt as if I had forgotten something.
I looked to my side. Sticking out of the cloying muck, hilt first, was the sword of a Gravelord Servant. I picked it up, feeling the thrum of power flow through me. Had I had muscles, or a face, I would have grinned. As it was, I just let out a dry chuckle."I thank you, Lord Nito, for this gift of your covenant." I blinked; was that my voice now? This deep baritone? I shrugged; whatever the case, it wasn't a big problem. Now, time to find out where in Equestria I was. Wherever I was, it was probably the Everfree Forest. Some marsh that wasn't shown on the show.
You know what's hard about these legs? The backwards joints. Man was not meant to walk with such weird legs. I hate you so much, legs. I spent, like, an hour just standing up and falling down like an idiot on an ice skating rink. Eventually, I learned how to walk. Running comes later. Experimentally, I tried a roll. My strange legs were pretty damn good at helping me roll, though I was afraid of falling apart accidentally. When you're only bones, that's a valid fear.
The swamp pulled down on my legbones, trying to suck me in. Even though my sense of touch had been dulled, I could still feel the cool mud ride up through my legbones, and I didn't really care for that. Maybe being dead changes your mindset, as I was pretty surprised how well I was taking this. Then again, when you're hit by a car and a god makes you part of his religion at your own request, you tend to lose your capacity for surprise. I wasn't sure how I would react to killing.
After what felt like an hour, I finally made it to something that resembled a town. High wooden stockades greeted me. The ponies up there seemed not to see me, my black muck covered bones almost seamlessly blending in with the night.. Finally, civilisation. I kept my default facial expression. Hopefully, I could slip in. I sat on the firm ground, meditating on what to do. If they reacted like most people do when confronted with a walking skeleton, then I knew that I would die my second death, and there was no point in getting myself killed. I had to press on. I walked back through the nicer area of the forest, away from the cloying mould of the swamp that appealed to me somehow. Maybe the paradox of life causing death was what drew me, an undead being, to the swamp. Regardless, I could see a well-pounded dirt road, and I followed it.
Suddenly, I heard a deep, angry roar. I paused. That didn't bode well. Something pounded up behind me. Something big. I rolled out of the way as a gigantic, ethreal orange lion paw the size of a house slammed down on the spot I was just occupying.
"Jesus!"
I scrambled to my feet, holding my sword in front of me. Standing over me, towering above the trees, was... what was that? The only beast that I knew of that was made of stars was known as an Ursa Major. What was this then? A... Leo Major? In any case, it certainly looked different from the Ursa. There were fine, white stars dotted through it, but it was a dull orange-yellow colour, like the evening sunset. Still, the trees were dwarfed by this beast, and its eyes regarded me with hatred.
I turned to run, my skeletal legs pumping as quickly as they could. The first part of Dark Souls law is: don't let them attack you, watch from a distance. The huge lion roared a challenge at me, and quickly charged at me, plowing through trees. This lion was extremely persistent, and what made things worse was the sword I was toting...No. No way am I about to try to fight this thing. Sure, I'm lifting it with one hand with ridiculous ease, but I've never held a sword in my life. Unfortunately, the Leo jumped and sailed in front of me.
Alright, time to learn I guess. I hold it with both hands. Right, now what does one do with a swor-
"SHIT!"
I rolled away from the huge paw. Rolling, at least, was something that I knew how to do. Another dawn-orange paw swing came at me, and I barely dodged. This thing would kill me if given the chance.
Come to think of it, any idiot can use the sword. Point the sharp bit into the enemy. With this in mind, I swung my sword at its leg, and was rewarded with it barely grazing. I'd overestimated my reach. I was forced to roll out of the way of another paw swing. Great. Just great. I then charged, ready to hit it with the sharp end. I gripped it in both hands, made a mighty swing...
My mind started piercing together random-ass facts about lions- I was going to die, and I wanted something to think about until the very end. Lions were prevalent in ancient Greece and Europe, but were killed by kings and similar. The Nemean lion was described as being practically invulnerable to all weapons, but its mouth isn't. Hercules killed the Nemean lion by either strangling it or shooting an arrow into its unguarded mouth. The Nemean lion was commemorated by Zeus by throwing it into the stars, where it became known as the Leo constellation.
... Alright. I have a plan now. The huge beast finally decides to stop toying around with me. In answer, I gripped my sword before me, grimly determined. As it lunged its head towards me, I swung the sword upwards, stabbing it in the head through the mouth. Something vaguely resembling blood came out of the beasts' mouth. The beast struggled, but I stabbed upwards. The beast lay still. I'd killed something as huge as this. I'd killed .
I fell backwards and pushed myself away until I was on the opposite side of the clearing. I'd killed a living creature.It was self-defense! Nope, I could have done something else, rather than aggravate that star lion. There was nothing I could do. I would have died.
"I could have been eaten! That's something else! ...Oh god." I tucked myself into a foetal position and started rocking back and forth. If there ever was a moment that disproved the 'Video games make you a killer' theory, then this was it. I made retching sounds in my skeletal throat, as if my body wanted me to throw up.
Hello, my Servant. You have done well today.
I laughed bitterly."Yeah, I did well. God, I did well." I glared at the bloody sword in my hand. I threw it away.
"I killed today. I'm not a warrior, I'm a loser." The huge lion started to turn sable black with a vaguely orange glow still about it, then it slowly... deflated, leaving only the bones and fur behind.
You're wrong. You ARE a warrior, you just need some... prodding.
I glared at the corpse. "No. A real warrior would have taken their first kill with laughter in his heart." I sounded weird, but I knew those were the right words to choose.
That is not a warrior. That's a psychopath. Somebody who kills on a whim, someone who can only, really, kill. A warrior knows when to kill and when not to. Psychopaths never really learn.
I paused. "... will it ever get easier? The killing?"
My Servant, it always is. You inure yourself to death. But you never forget your first kill. That stays with you. Besides, that wasn't really your first kill. Your first kill of a sentient, living creature, will be. Understand?
I nodded mutely, cowed by his gentle voice.
Good.
With that last, parting statement, Gravelord Nito left. I stared off into the distance, feeling a little spark of resentment for Nito. The God HAD practically killed me, after all. Much as he said that he had no hand in it, I wasn't going to trust his word just yet.
I looked at the pelt. So, this was my Quest Reward, eh...? If this thing was based off of the Nemean Lion, then I needed to cut its fur with its own claws. I looked at my absent legs and sighed. Being undead wasn't easy work if I was going to need to reattach my limbs after every fight. I gripped my first limb and got to work reattaching them. The second was a little way off, so I hauled myself over and clicked it into my pelvis. Standing was a bit risky, but I managed it. Thus done, I walked over to the corpse. I gripped a huge claw in a mighty hand, and drew it across the huge beast's fur. It parted with a tearing sound, very easily.
Alright, I think that I overestimated its defensive properties. In order to test my hypothesis, I hefted my sword and made a crude swing at the mass of fur. It barely grazed the fur.Huh. Well, better make armour out of it. I gripped the claw again and went back at the fur.
Now that I had a fair amount of it torn away from the main mass of black fur, I poked some holes in the fur. I then cut some long, thin strips, and then made what could loosely be called a robe. I slung it over my skeletal shoulders, and tied the straps I'd inexpertly made together to secure the whole assemblage. Now, I looked a little bit less like a walking skeleton, and more like a pile of walking fur with a couple of bones sticking out of it. I chuckled at myself, retrieving my sword."Lay on, Macduff. Or maybe, I should call myself Lazarus."
I rolled the name around. Yes, Lazarus sounds good to me. Lazarus Bane, because why not.
As I trooped through the swamp, I felt lost, empty.
What is my purpose? The battle was done, and I just felt empty. I fidgeted with my new clothing. I might have killed the Nemean Lion like Hercules, but right now, I felt more like Odysseus, cursed by the gods to never return home for twenty years.How appropriate; I can never return home. I'm a dead man. All I have to hope for is to live a new, fulfilling life.
"Halt, vile beast!"
I stopped, and, on some base instinct, rolled out of the way of a smashing hammer blow. My new robe might protect me against a blade, but a war hammer was certainly not going to regard my flimsy robe as suitable armour. I didn't want to see what, exactly, would happen were my ribcage crushed. I then turn around to the source of the voice.
Standing there, hammer firmly gripped in a white aura, was a unicorn. Heavy set, unusually for a unicorn, and his blue eyes burned with conviction. He wore white armour with gold lining. I could see the black mud adhering to his hooves. Interestingly, he had what looked like a red armband on his left foreleg. My sharp eyes detected RD on it. I wondered what that was an insignia of.
"Foul undead, you shall be purged from this world! This I swear, in the name of the Reverent Dawn!"
"Wait, hang on a moment. Can't we just talk about this?" For answer, the crazy pony snarled and lunged again with the hammer.
I ran away from him. It's a little known fact, but bipeds are better than quadrupeds over short distances, the reason being that quadrupeds have twice as many legs to worry about. It's a good thing that I'm fairly fast, able to keep a distance from him. Unfortunately, I had to roll again as he sent the war hammer flying at me again. Something in my gut told me that his hammer would kill me if I gave it the chance to.
"Look, buddy, I've killed once today, I don't want to fight you. Just leave me alone, you douchebag!"
Unfortunately, the madpony didn't seem to listen to reason. Instead, he roared, trying to get at me again. I was forced to fight back. I gripped my sword, and charged forwards, sword prepared for a mighty swing. He saw that and grinned, focusing his horn. I note, out of the corner of my eye, that his hammer has rested on the ground, no longer supported by his aura. Whatever the case, the blade cleaved widely, but it was stopped by some sort of white bubble that completely surrounded him, like a personal version of Twilight's building shield. I noticed his horn glowing, and he smirked.
"Hah! Surprised? Nothing of your ilk can get past that- GET BACK HERE!" While he ran his mouth, I ran for the hills, intent on escape.
Honestly, this guy is arrogant to the extrem-
The hammer swung at me at almost twice the speed as before. I barely dodged it. He's pissed; spittle froths and foams from his mouth, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was more like a wild animal or a beserker than a paladin now- and he won't be reasoned with.
I look at my sword. I was probably going to...Hang on. He could only shield himself consciously, right? That spell required conscious effort, and a lot of magic to use. So, if there's an attack that he doesn't know about... And I should have this one, I'm a member of the Covenant. Gravelord Sword dance! I focus on summoning one, long, thin blade, not wanting to waste my sole Miracle.
He's impaled from beneath by a long, red blade. I withdraw my sword, and the blade vanishes. Mortified, I sinkto the ground, then spring to action. I gripped a piece of fur from my robe and I ran over-
He blasted at me, a white beam that barely grazed me, but my arm catches on fire. I screamed and plunged my hand into the cool, cool mud, feeling the burn from what's obviously holy magic. He tried to levitate his hammer again but slumped, pain dulling his power. I could tell that he's close to death, and I gagged out of shock. I caused this. My arm was still burning underneath the mud. When it stopped, I pulled it out of the cooling mud. There's a thin groove running along my right forearm; I gingerly tapped it. I then turned around and spoke to him.
"I figured that little shield trick required conscious thought. Can't block what you don't know. You're some kind of paladin, aren't you?" It's all I can do to keep my voice from shaking. For an answer, the paladin glares at me.
"Creature... you have no idea what you're messing with. Celestia will find you... she'll kill you." I glare at him.
"That doesn't really sound like Celestia at all." I was still confused about something, though.
"You... why did you fight me? Why?" He sneered at me.
"It doesn't matter... if I die here... the Revenant Dawn... will cleanse the world of your filth... you unclean undead beasts-" He collapsed again, bleeding profusely, and I gripped my scrap of fur again and tried to help him, but another blast nearly took my head off.
"GET AWAY FROM ME! FILTH! SCUM! I AM STALWORT HOOF, AND I SHALL-urk!" With that, he takes his last breath. I looked at him and sagged down to my knees. My sword arm came up, almost mechanically. I then impaled him in the head, making absolutely sure.
"I tribute your soul to Gravelord Nito, first of the dead." The words tumbled through my jaws without any emotion or real thought. I then collapsed, and just...
I am the Gravelord Servant.
The walls that surrounded me were made of dark stone, dripping with water. I saw a lot of yellow and brown lichen crawling down the walls, and there were roots sprouting out as well.
How interesting.
Once I looked around and saw the rusty iron gate, separating me from the dark halls outside, I observed my environment, and made a couple of logical deductions about my new home. This place was intensely familiar to me — it was the cell that the Chosen Undead first escaped in Dark Souls.
Let's see... I last remember fainting, after... after... Oh God.
I fell on my pelvis and drew my knees up, hugging them as I rocked back and forth, keening.
I killed today.
Had I a throat, or had I been alive at all, I would have undoubtedly vomited. As it were, I just started laughing, out of nervousness and sickness at what I'd done. Sure, the Leo's death had dulled, but it was replaced with the image of Stalwart Hoof's grimacing face, floating before my eyes, literally. That was all I needed to tell me that this was a dream. Not that I was interested on that little detail, so focused was I on grief.
It felt strange, mourning the loss of life from self-defense, but it is true; no amount of killing in video games could prepare you for looking at the loss of life in those eyes. I saw those eyes lose their spark, becoming dull and glassy. Those eyes now stared out at me from the walls, creeping in. I didn't care. I just sat there, hoping for punishment. It wouldn't reverse my mistake, my murder, but it would make me feel better. Maybe it would make those 'Reverent Dawn' types get some satisfaction, seeing my destroyed corpse.
"Pray tell, what manner of man art thou?"
I looked up sharply. Standing next to me, looking faintly confused and horrified, was a pony that every brony knew well. Dark indigo fur, and a long, flowing, blue mane, dotted with stars. Those blue eyes stared at me with pity and mercy. I turned away.
"Go away, princess. While I do respect you, right now I just want to be alone."
For answer, she appeared in front of me.
"No. Normally, I would not even think of interfering with you, but the despair that you're feeling is leeching out into the land of dreams."
Luna sounded guarded, watching my every move like a cat. A very cautious pony.
"Just leave me alone. Please. I don't deserve this audience. You shouldn't be talking to a killer."
She didn't respond; rather, she gently poked the walls, looking at them curiously.
"Pray tell, where is this?"
My own voice answered for me, which was a surprise. "This is the Undead Asylum, in Anor Londor. It's the starting area of Dark Souls. It's where I belong, an asylum."
Princess Luna sighed. "While I may not know what this cell is, I do know what it means for you. This is a sign of repression. It's unhealthy, Lazarus."
I turned my skull so fast that it almost snapped clean off. "How did you know my name?"
Luna poked the walls. "Lazarus, before now you were flitting through your memories. I couldn't help but see and hear a few things."
I gripped my legs until they creaked. "You had no right!" It came out in a hiss, and she retreated.
"Yes, I had no right. But in dreams, it is often hard to stop yourself."
I slouched, moodily. "Trust issues, loner tendencies, good personal skills but have a tendency to not want to get too close, possibly holdover from 1000 years ago." If she wanted to know my name and how much else she overheard, then I was going to reveal my deductions.
"That's not exactly surprising, considering your probably being one of those 'brony' types." Her voice is faltering a bit, and I can see some tears in the corners of her eyes starting to form. Good.
I stood up to my full height. "No. I made all of those by looking at you while in this cell. First, trust issues. You're standing back from me at a significant distance, probably don't realise that you're doing it. Now, caution is all very well and good, but I've noticed that you always have at least one eye on me at all times, which is good considering that I didn't know that I could kill today. Second, loner tendencies. Again, I can deduce this from your stance. You're very guarded, a bit too guarded. Plus, you probably developed them through this dreamwalking. I'm guessing that only you and probably your sister can travel through this space, and I think that'd be enough to make anybody a loner."
Princess Luna raised a hoof, but I continued. "The good personal skills come from your topics of conversation. You're aware that I have a severe problem, but you don't make anything of it, because that would trigger a relapse. So, you talk about the cell, an indirect way of trying to help me. However, you don't want to get too close to me, like a psychiatrist. Now, if there's anything that I know about classical royalty and what was shown on the show, the royal family were typically revered as gods, in fact, today you still are. Thus, it was probably drilled into your head to not get too close to the public. That kind of mental conditioning is-"
"ENOUGH!"
The yell tore through me. I clapped my hands to where my ears were, trying to deaden the sound. Something in me told me to bow, but I stood my ground. It was at this point that I noticed and cared that she was close to crying. My shoulders drooped, and I collapsed to the ground, leaning against a wall. "Sorry. I haven't had a very good day. I'm so sorry."
She didn't answer for a time, just breathing. Then, she looked at me with a frown, eyes narrowed. "Save thy apologies, Lazarus. Thou strike at us with words, don't you? Well, I can plainly see that you don't need help." She turned to leave.
I jumped up and ran over. "NO! Please... please don't go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Luna stopped and turned to me. "My visit was never intended to be long, Lazarus. I do accept your apology, and I understand. But I cannot stay. Tis against the rules."
Something inside me snapped. I whipped around, punching the wall. "WHAT RULES?! Jesus, how! MANY! RULES! DO YOU HAVE OR NEED?! I'm SICK, TO DEATH of gods not explaining things to us mortals, like we're toys that just DON'T UNDERSTAND! It's like being children- 'I'm sorry, son, but you'll understand when you get older.' I'm just SICK OF IT!" After that venting of rage, I screamed and kicked the wall.
Luna just stared at me with fear and wariness. "You don't trust the gods much, do you? That's understandable. Lazarus, I can't help you here. Meet me in the real world." She turned to leave, but paused. "Lazarus, a word of warning. I know that you probably won't, but I say this anyway: kill any pony on Equestrian soil, and we will hunt you down."
I nodded. "I won't. Luna... I'm sorry about that outburst. I really am."
She turned away. "Don't be sorry. It's understandable; mortals have a tendency to rage against us. But you must repress that rage. It will only kill you. Some gods might take offence." With that, she was gone. I sank back down, face in hands. I'd probably driven away one of my only allies. With nothing else to do, I watched the wall, not wanting to think.
I'm not sure how long I sat in that cell. Hours? Days? I had no idea. The wall was interesting— signs suggested that it had been underwater (pattern of lichen on the wall and wear of rock) and I didn't want to do anything but stare at the wall. Thinking about things other than the wall wasn't what I considered a good time.
Suddenly, my old human body fell from the ceiling. I scrambled away from it. A familiar, chilling voice sounded from above. "Hello, Bernard. Or should I call you Lazarus?"
I scowled. Oh, but I didn't have a face to scowl with. I resorted to staring upwards in a simmering rage. "Nito. What do you want, throwing my body down here?"
Gravelord Nito rubbed a bony chin. "You've despaired over your first kill, but it's time to leave. The key's on the body. Oh, and your sword is there as well."
I looked at my body. It did, indeed, have the Gravelord Servant sword clutched in its hand. I had a question for him. "Nito."
There was no way in hell that I was going to call him 'master.' "How will I recharge your Miracle?"
Nito waved a hand. "My Miracles rely not on your faith, but on your intelligence. But it is drawn from a divine mana, the likes of which only someone with a powerful soul like yours can really draw on. Your divine mana is different from your normal mana; they do not interact normally. Recharge your Miracle by praying in the dead of night. One more thing: due to the rules of the game, the more humans you kill, the more powerful your Miracle gets. Crush their eyes in service to me. Kill a lot of humans, and I shall reward you even further than what my Miracle will allow."
I turned away from him. "I'm not killing any humans."
Gravelord Nito let off a chuckle that was underscored by a faint screaming. "Oh, but they WILL try to kill you. Many are self-righteous, believing themselves the protectors of the realm. Others are psychopaths, who pervert the spirit of warriors. You will have to kill them; it is only an advantage."
I shook my head, turning to my old body. "You know, I'm not going to take your word for it. I will do this game in my own way, Gravelord."
I tore the key away from my corpse and gripped the sword. "...I do agree with you on one thing, though."
"And that is?"
I shoved the key into the door. "I need to get over myself."
The door swung open, and I continued along the corridor.
==--------==
I'd travelled through the halls for a little bit, avoiding arrow traps, and mercy-killing any Hollows that I saw. I was making my way towards a familiar destination, and I wasn't sure whether or not I would actually have to do this or not.
As I advanced, I reflected what experiences that I was having. How ironic: Nito, who has a good reason to be a really nasty and cryptic god, was the one who helped me out of my depression. The entire experience was exactly how I remembered it from the game, only I could feel the occasional drip of water on my skull, and smell the foul stench of rotting corpses. The Hollows surrounding me tried to attack, but I stabbed them, weaving through their clumsy sword blows. They barely put a scratch on me. Oscar of Astora, who gave me the Estus flask in the original game, lifted his head wearily towards me. "Good luck." I walked past him, barely pausing.
When I reached the door leading to the Asylum Demon, I paused. I looked at my sword hand. It was shaking, just enough to be noticeable. Whether it was out of excitement, fear, or both, I do not really know. I gripped my sword in both hands and pushed the door in.
The Asylum Demon waited for me. A twenty feet tall titan, coloured a pale greenish-grey, with long horns and a huge gut, coupled with a pair of surprisingly tiny legs. Now that I was here, I noticed that it stank of sweat, dirt and shit. It gripped its huge mace and jumped at me, huge gut wobbling like a jelly. I rolled out of the way, and as it tried to turn around, I decided to do the second thing that many Dark Souls players do in this kind of situation- I stabbed it in the ass, eliciting a pained scream and an attempt to pound me into the floor with its massive hammer; luckily, I guessed something like that would happen and I barely avoided being squashed underneath its gigantic maul. While blood poured from its lacerated rectum, I sprinted for the other door. I wanted to get the drop on it; literally in this case.
I ran, robe flapping behind me. Hollow soldiers tried to attack, but the Gravelord Servant sword flashed, cutting through their armour and returning them to something approaching an afterlife. Eventually, I reached the top of the staircase, and I walked through the white light. The Asylum demon was waiting for me. Before it could react, I jumped down, and as I fell, I used its grotesque body as a pincushion for my sword. It roared feebly, trying to get away, while the magic that pulsed through my sword manifesting in blackened patches of flesh, which had spread a fair bit from its buttocks and the stab wound I'd inflicted on its chest. I raised my sword, intent on finishing it off-
And halted. I looked at the huge beast. When I'd played the game for the first time, I'd almost been killed by this thing. In fact, I'd died when I still thought the game was where you could just charge in and beat your enemies to a pulp with your bare hands. It had jumped on me, and I'd dropped the controller in shock as the 'YOU DIED' message flashed on my screen. This was a dream; there were no repercussions. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to kill this thing. I let my sword sag down. The demon seemed to be confused by this mercy. It tried to lift the mace again, trying to kill me, but I stabbed its arm, withdrawing the blade, while its foul black blood seeping from the wound, pooling on the ground around it. The demon made a keening sound and clutched at its wounded arm.
Looking at its wounded arm, I just felt tired. "Look, I'm willing to spare you if you give me the key." The huge demon appeared to think about this, weighing its options. I lifted my Gravelord Servant sword, and it seemed to take the hint. Pulling the key out of... its buttocks (was that really where it was the entire time?) , it threw it at me. I nodded at the huge demon, carefully walking towards the door, never once turning my back on the wounded beast. Just because I want to be merciful doesn't mean that I'm stupid.
"Thank you." The huge demon muttered something in its incomprehensible speech and slunk away, huge maul in hand. I shrugged. I put the key in the lock, and pushed the doors open.
==------==
When I woke up, it was to the unusual feeling of having a sword at my throat. As if disbelieving of my situation, my eyesockets focused on the glowing, crystalline face that held the simple broadsword in its mouth for about a second. Then, I snapped into analysing the situation. It's a useful ability to have, possessing a damn near Sherlock Holmes intellect and analytical skills. They're good skills to develop if you're a waiter, actor or doctor; and since I was the first two, I've had a lot of time to analyse people and how they act.
First, grip sword and thrust away while delivering kick to midsection to wind. Capitulate on development to draw sword, block reckless swing. After that, advance, step within sword range, and when he automatically retreats, sucker punch between the eyes. Transition to low stance, and tackle. Once off balance, backhand, getting him to drop the sword. Finally, hold own sword at his throat. Overall, situation reversed, him confused. Bonus for all parties involved.
Surprising him by gripping his sword blade, I pushed it away from myself, keeping the movement going by swinging a bony leg up, I was rewarded with a satisfying 'oof' sound. Pushing him away, I rolled towards my sword, bringing it up to parry the swing from the left. I then moved into his range, and when he retreated so that he could swing the sword again, I hit him in the face. Then, I tackled him. I might not weigh all that much, but I could move fast enough and hit hard enough to stagger him. My left hand came up, hitting him in the side of the head, causing his mouth to open, releasing the sword. I then pinned him down with my own sword at his throat.
"Who are you?" He weakly struggled, obviously confused by the sudden turn of events. Looking at him, I could see that he was a crystal pony, a very pale amber colour. Absently, I looked him over to see what I could glean.
Let's see. Steel armour, practical, not flashy, well-maintained. White surcoat, bit dirty, no emblem. Helmet made of steel with intricate designs, which means that he bought it in the Crystal Empire. Sword, simple, not ostentatious but practical, definitely enchanted if he thought that it could hurt me. Shield is plain white, stained with mud. Thus, not a formal knight, and has no nobility in family. Hedge knight or paladin then. Paladin most likely, given general theme of white and enchanted sword. Muscles well-developed, but fairly lean, and he's got a bit of a gut to him. Build of a soldier then, not a sportsman or a weightlifter.
"Great. More paladins."
The pony beneath me stopped struggling and looked at me confusedly. "Sorry, what?"
Lower-class English accent. ... Great. And given his inexpert sword swings...
I got off of him and let him up. Well, I was hilariously wrong about everything. "Let me guess: you're a farmer."
The crystal pony seemed a bit confused, but at least he didn't immediately run away. Instead, he nodded. I facepalmed.
"Your weapon isn't enchanted, and you don't know how to use it."
He nodded again and I sagged. I was going to need to work on my deductive skills. The pony hesitantly extended a hoof. "Name's Gold Sheen. You're not going to hold that weird sword near me again?" He looked fairly nervous; couldn't really fault him. I gripped his extended forehoof and shook it gently.
"Name's Lazarus. Know anything about this place?"
Sheen shook his head. "Nope. Well, I know that it was rumoured to have this creepy undead city in the middle of it somewhere, but I wouldn't go in that direction."
Something was off about this situation. Then, it hit me.
Where was the body of Stalwart Hoof?
Trying to keep my voice level, I decided to enquire. "So, was there anything else here when you arrived?"
Gold tapped a hoof on his chin. "Nope, although I did see a manticore run off with a pony in its grip."
How strangely convenient. "Listen, do you have a compass at all? Or a spare map?"
Either one of those would help my journey immensely. He shook his head. "Sorry, but I've only got one."
"Fair enough. What brings you out here, anyway?"
Gold Sheen got a faraway look in his eyes. "Ah, you see, everything's changed. Speech, technology- did you know that there are these things called 'trains,' that can carry you across the full reach of Equestria in mere days?"
I made an appreciative noise as he continued. "I want to see everything that this world has to offer. So, I saved up all of my money, and here I am, exploring."
I thumbed him up. "Well, I hate to keep you from adventure. I don't know this place all that well myself. Good luck."
==---------==
We parted on fairly good terms, I think. I walked off, waving him goodbye. Today was not a bad day, all things considered. The sun was rising, rosy-fingered Dawn awakening. Everything seemed to be a bit better.
"Excuse me, but I'm in a bit of a bother, my good sir. Would you mind helping me out of this?" I turned, and briefly stared.
A zombie pegasus grinned at me awkwardly from his position on the ground. Scruffy dirty brown mane, with large, green eyes, and a dull blue pelt, which was rotted away in some places, exposing browning tissue. His left hind-hoof had apparently come off. He looked at it distractedly. "Yes, it is a bit of a bother. Mind giving me a hoof- sorry, I mean hand?"
I wasn't sure how to respond to that. After about five seconds, I gripped the hoof and held it in position.
"Excellent. Now, I've got a needle and thread here. How good are you at stitching?"
As I started reattaching his hoof, he took to talking. "You're probably wondering why my hoof is detached. Well, that's a simple story to tell you, my bony friend. You see, I like to fly. Even when I'm decaying, I love to fly. So, naturally, I decided to take a little jaunt in this section of the woods. But, well, you know hooves. Silly buggers, always falling off in high velocity winds. Now, normally it isn't a problem- I usually wear boots to keep my hooves attached to my legs. However, I'd forgotten them, so I've been here for a long time! I'm lucky that the paladins didn't see me; I covered myself in leaves and hoped that they wouldn't look to closely."
I finished my clumsy attempt. He looked it over. "Well, I can walk on this, I think."
He extended a forehoof, which I took gingerly. "Name's Wind Brace. What's yours?"
Well, Wind Brace seemed friendly enough. "Lazarus Bane."
He grinned. "Lazarus, eh? Good name. Good name."
I cut to the chase. "Look, Mr Wind Brace-
"Look, you can just call me Wind. None of this formal stuff with me."
"Alright, Wind. I'm new around here."
True.
"I don't know my way around here. Where did you come from?" \
Wind grinned. "Necro City, of course. Alright, since you did reattach my hoof, I'll show you the way. Tartarus, I would have shown you the way even if you hadn't! Although it would be a bit awkward, with you carrying me around."
I had to agree with him there. However, I did know that I needed some sense of bearings, and somebody friendly enough to teach me how to use this sword. "Excellent. Then let us move."
We were about to leave, when I spied the remains of the Leo. I paused, reluctant to leave everything here. Wind Brace looked over and nodded. "Yep, you must've been one hell of a lucky bastard to even kill the Leo. Thing's practically invulnerable, 'cept for its mouth and eyes. You kill it, you keep the remains. We're gonna have a hell of a time getting it back to Necro City though. Need a hoof- or, rather, hand? I think that I owe you one."
I nodded. "No, you don't. I did a piss-poor job of sewing your hoof back on. Still, help is appreciated."
==----------==
Eventually, we were good to go. Thanks to his ingenuity, we had gathered up all of the fur, bundled it up, and wrapped the bones in it. I hoisted the vast majority over my back, while he carried the smaller joints and claws. "Ready to leave, old chap?"
"As I ever will be."
I am the Gravelord Servant.
Welcome to Necro City...?
I trudged through the marsh, while Wind Brace flew overhead. The cool mud sucking at my new robe and legs was quite annoying, but there wasn't any real way to go. Wind had offered to carry me over the marsh, but I declined, mainly because I was afraid that his legs would fall off if he tried to lift me.
Wind Brace flew down and alighted, treading carefully so that his legs didn't fall apart. We continued in silence, him not sure how to talk to me and me just keeping silent and focused on the journey. Eventually, he mustered up the courage to break the silence between us. "So, Lazarus. Where did you come from?"
I wracked my brains for a suitable answer. Should I tell him the truth... no, he'd think I was insane. Should I lie? He seemed like a fairly astute person in spite of his friendliness, and he would probably pick a hole in my story. Eventually, I decided to tell him part of the truth. "I came from a large island about 40000 kilometres wide."
Always tell a technical truth.
He adopted a deadpan glare. "Riiight. Next thing, you'll be telling me that there're spiders living in everything."
I shrugged, my bony grin now more reflective of my actual feelings. "You read my mind."
Wind stopped in mid-step, just looking at me with an 'are you for real?' expression on his face. "Anything else weird and bizarre about it?"
I was just feeling in a snarky mood, and technical truths that sounded too bizarre would hopefully keep him too distracted to ask any pertinent questions, like how I got here and why I don't know anything about Equestria beyond what was on the show. "Well, we put savoury pies in pea soup and cover it in ketchup, if that helps. Oh, and everything catches on fire during the summer."
Wind Brace's eye fell out, possibly from surprise and possibly from gravity's influence. "I... wuh... okay, you're messing with me, aren't you." He picked it up delicately and screwed it back in. From the little twist of his lip, I could guess that this had happened many times before.
I really miss having a face. Nevertheless, I trudged on in silence, neither confirming or denying his suspicions. I had told him the truth, or part of it, and he was content with that. Either that, or he felt that if he asked any more questions I would continue to lead him around with ever-increasing ridiculous stories. Whatever his opinion, we travelled in relative silence, apart from the click of bone and the squelch of mud beneath my feet.
It was a further two hours before we reached the entrance to Necro City, a pair of huge doors with a boulder resting near them. Wind Brace frowned. "That shouldn't be like that." After a few moments of looking at the door, he turned to me. "Hey, would you mind giving me a hand with this?"
I looked around the clearing, and eventually found something- a simple, rather thick branch. I carefully wedged it beneath the boulder and pushed down on it, Wind Brace aiding me in moving the rather heavy boulder. Eventually, we had managed to move the boulder so that it didn't impede our path into the city. After a few moments of metaphorically catching our breath, during which he checked his stitches to make sure he wasn't falling apart, he pushed the doors open with a bit of a struggle. He walked through the doors, me following him with my sword at the ready.
As we walked for what felt like hours, we eventually found what looked like the city. It wasn't all that large, but then again, I lived in Adelaide, so who am I to judge? What made it different from what Wind had originally thought would be here? There wasn't a single living or undead crature there. The whole place felt dead. Wind Brace looked around, aghast.
"How... how..."
Unsure of what to do, I hesitantly gripped his shoulder. "This place looks like it has abandoned recently. Do you know of any other undead cities nearby?"
Wind Brace shook his head. "No, I don't. There might be undead, but... I can't..." He burst into tears, somehow. The green liquid that came from his eyes had the appearance of tears, or at least the symbolic meaning of tears in spite of its mysterious make-up. I stoically stood aside as he continued to blubber. How on earth was I supposed to comfort him?
After taking a bit of a kI had a question to ask him. "How long were you stuck in that swamp?"
"At least a week." A week? He'd been a long time away from here. I narrowed my eyes, metaphorically. A lot could happen in a week. One bit of miscellaneous trivia I had picked up was that it was the average lifespan of the Peruvian wasp. It was wholly possible that the town could have been evacuated, or they were killed.
He was "I, I, I just don't know what to do. They must've gone to Tartarus, or something! Yes, that's what everypony must've done; there's a Gate around here, it's rumoured, and only a gem from the king's crown could open it. It's probably the safest place in the whole of Equestria for them!"
This sounded interesting. Given that Tartarus was guarded by Cerberus, it seemed unlikely that anything much would go within ten feet of an entrance. "Could we enter the Gate?"
Wind Brace shook his head. "No, we'd need the king's crown to enter, and even if we could... we'd need to find the gate first. It's practically impossible!"
I sat and pondered. If they'd needed to escape these Revenant Dawn types, then we effectively were the masters of a dead city. Eventually, I came upon a solution. "There are other undead, right? Then we'll need to get rid of this place. We'll have to gather up anything that they left behind, and we're going to strike out. There's got to be more undead. We should let them know."
Wind Brace looked deterred for a brief moment, then he cracked a grin. "You're right. There's bound to be stuff that hasn't been taken into Tartarus."
==---------==
From what I could tell as I walked through the empty streets of Necro City, this place would have been bustling with unlife. Empty market stalls, except for a few that hadn't been completely emptied, dominated the narrow streets. I saw a couple of discarded dicing tables, cut with some sort of weapon a few days ago (splinters on the ground are recent, but given timeframe, probably a few days ago.) I paused by one, examining the surface. How many games had been played on here? It had been worn smooth by countless dice rolls, such that the markings on the wood that indicated positions were barely legible.
Whatever. Not really my concern. We drifted through the ghost town. Maybe there were a few people who hadn't left? But as we kicked the door down of the first house, and heard no objections, nobody flying at us, our spirits fell. The house had been stripped bare of every necessity, except for a few tables, still stacked with cracked plates. I poked the earthworms crawling sluggishly through the earthen meal. So, this was what the dead ate? It seems as if some habits are hard to give up on death. We trooped upstairs, and what I saw sickened me.
Wind Brace nearly vomited at the sight of a zombified filly, stuck through with a spear. I hastened over, dropping my sword to check for unlife. After a few moments, I shook my head. "She's dead. Been dead for at least four days. There wasn't anything you could've done; I guess that this spear has to have been enchanted."
Wind Brace recovered. "I knew her. Her name was Mary. She was a sweet kid... she didn't do anything! She was an innocent! Oh god... let's get her out of here. She deserves better than this. She needs a proper burial."
I yanked the spear out of her chest, looking at the blackened blood slowly pouring out of the wound. "I agree. Cheer up though; it seems as if somebody did in her killer."
At his questioning stare, I pointed him towards the opposite side of the smashed window. A paladin had apparently been thrown through here, and had impacted with the opposite house, evidently killing him. The body was still there, still with a surprised look on the griffin's face. Wind Brace snorted approvingly. "That's good, otherwise I'd hunt down the bastard who did."
We buried her near the house. I scraped dirt out from the road mechanically, not really thinking about what I was doing. Instead, I was thinking about the expression on the foals face, thinking about that surprise, fear and desperation. How I couldn't stop picturing her death- her just sitting in her room, afraid of those attacking, and then, this griffin crashes through, and somebody barrels upstairs, jsut in time to see him sink the enchanted lance into her heart, killing her permanently. How his triumph had shown on his face, just before whoever had killed him had thrown him out of the window.
Sometimes, being so good at reading people and situations is a horrible curse. Other thoughts tumbled through my mind as I replayed it over and over and over.
This isn't right. God damnit, this is horrible. Kids don't deserve this kind of shit. This kind of fight is downright depressing. I don't want anything like this to ever happen again, no matter what.
When I'd finished, I carefully lowered the body in. We checked her again, for any spark of life, but she didn't blink, not even when I poked her side so hard that I pierced her flesh. Eventually, I sighed. "Rest in Peace, Mary."
Other houses yielded practically the same results- stripped bare, with maybe a corpse found. Most of them were fully grown, which was a relative relief. We dug graves for them, remembering who they were. We also found a couple of corpses from the paladins who'd attacked. Their red armbands with their insignia denoted who they were. Them we showed no such respect as the corpses of those zombies and skeletons we'd found. We shoved their corpses into a mass grave, and we carved into the soil over it,
Here lie foal molesters and murderers. They were also paladins who forsook justice.
Eventually, we found a cart, which we loaded our looted wares onto. Wind Brace suddenly collapsed as my shoddy sewing finally gave way. "Oh bugger."
After a few moments of staring, I sighed, reaccepting the needle and thread and getting ready to reattach the hoof. I gripped the needle and thread and got to clumsily stitching again. These fingers were a fair bit thicker than my original ones were, so they weren't really suited for a fine motor skill like sewing. Still, it was reattached without much hassle. Wind Brace looked at it. "It'll do for now, until we find another survivor."
After a few minutes of walking around, I managed to spot a sign, still as anything. Wind Brace looked up. "The Smashed Skeleton! Oh, this was a good spot to have a good drink. Ah... good times."
He pushed the door open. it creaking on its hinges. I saw a microphone, hanging desolutely. Every other instrument that had been here had long ago been removed. Once, this place had been teeming with customers, all crowding for a drink; now, it was as empty and dead as the rest of the town.The Smashed Skeleton had managed to yield a couple of pints of alcohol. I poured us each a glass. Wind Brace raised his mug solemnly, a frown on his face. "To those who died."
I raised mine and clanked them together. "To those who died."
It needed to be said, as much for our benefit as theirs. As I drank, I suddenly realised something. Where was the alcohol going? I looked down- no wet patch of ale forming below me. I just stared, then shook my head. It was better to focus on the here and now rather than pointlessly pontificating about where the alcohol I drank was going. Better to focus on the here and now.
==------------------==
Time wasn't something that I could easily tell down here. The sunless, vaulted roof of the cavern betrayed nothing about the time of day. According to Wind, it was now six in the morning. How he knew that, I wasn't going to ask. We eventually made our way to the castle. It couldn't have all been cleared out, I knew it.
Red awnings and red carpet greeted our eyes when we'd finally shoved the doors open. Dark stone and torch holders, now empty, greeted us. Wind Brace looked around in awe, and so did I.
"I've never been inside the castle before. This is a whole new experience for me. It's... everything I dreamed it was and more!"
I grunted. While I appreciated its surprising beauty, we had more pressing concerns at this point in time. "Wonder later, loot now."
After about three hours of painstakingly searching the castle, we'd found the Gate. It was hidden in the basements, whose stores of gold had mostly been left behind as an afterthought. Wind Brace hammered on the gates, hoping for an answer.
Even though I've been told that I can be a bit standoffish, I am perfectly capable of comforting people. It's just that I don't really enjoy doing so unless it is absolutely necessary. "We should leave. We'll find some fellow undead, and we'll take them to a safer place."
Wind Brace nodded. "I suppose you're right. But we'll send them a message, when it's safe for the undead to return to Necro City." He'd already found his boots, strapping them firmly so that his hooves wouldn't fall of again. After a few moments of silence, we returned to taking everything we could find and placing it on the cart we'd found.
Why the cart was there I do not know, but I was thankful for its presence. It made the mind-numbing tedium of it all seem worthwhile. Find something potentially useful, throw it in. So far, we'd amassed a small library, most of an armoury, including anvil, some highly suspect money found in socks, some leftover herbs from an apothecary, and what looked like a riding crop.
Every other undead being had been very careful, either that or there was some looter here who'd taken all of the really good stuff. Still, a couple of books on alchemy was jolly good. Finally, we were ready to leave. There were other undead out there, there had to be. Otherwise, this was all for nothing.
As he hauled our cart up the steps, I started to talk. "So, Wind. What do you undead do around here?"
"What did we do? Oh, well, we fought. A lot. There's something visceral about it; nopony knows why, but fighting... we enjoy the ACT of fighting. Maybe it's because we can feel somewhat alive again. You'll know what I mean."
I grit my teeth. "Maybe. Until then, we'll have to focus on surviving. Let's do that, eh?"
Wind Brace kept talking as the wheels of our cart trundled up the stairs. "Did you see the arena? Well, there's a bit of a story to it. You see, a long time ago, there was a necromancer in the Black Marshes, name of Mordroc. He summoned creatures called Stalfos, had them guard the city. Unfortunately, he didn't make himself exempt from their rage, so they killed him."
Wow. What an incompetent moron. "Sounds like he was mentally retarded. Go on."
"Well, after that the Stalfos ran the whole city. There was one good one, called Captain Keeta. He tried to be decent to everybody, not just the skeletons. But then, King Highwind attacked Necro City, and all the Stalfos, except for Captain Keeta, were destroyed. Captain Keeta, on the other hand, was sealed away; nopony really knows where, somewhere outside."
"After that, people didn't have much to do. We really liked to fight, so there were a lot of riots and brawls in the streets. So King Highwind decides to build the arena. I know you saw it."
I had; it was very hard to miss. It was situated in the very centre of the town, where anybody could reach it with ease. I'd frowned at it at the time, disapproving of the gladiatorial nature it had. Now that I'd heard that story, I could understand why it had been built- bread and circuses again and again throughout history proved this.
"I did. Now, you were saying something about the fights. Anything interesting about them?"
Wind Brace nodded. "Anybody who can qualify through them can meet with the king and talk. It's an incredible honour."
I wondered about this mysterious 'King.' "So, the King... is he alive?"
Wind Brace shook his head. "Well, he was, but he then became a vampire. Like Dracula."
Dracula? It seems as if the need for exceedingly powerful vampires named Dracula is a multiversal constant.
"Alright, Dracula; who he?"
Wind Brace chuckled. "Oh, you don't know him. Well, he's a bit of a recluse. Very good fighter though, and he's been around since the city's founding. Nopony really knows why he's here at all. He's a mystery."
With that, we lapsed into a contemplative silence, focusing on hauling the cart further and further.
==---------==
After a lot of gutbusting, we were out in the light of my second day here. Wind Brace and I continued hauling our cart along, the spoils of our plunder weighing heavily, along with our pilfered bones and fur. We were going to have a lot of fun finding other undead, I just knew it.
We walked with our cart for a few minutes, not spotting any other living creature. The cloying muck of the swamp sought to draw our cart into its depths, but we kept moving, preventing it from getting a hold on our wares.
Ah, we're on the road again. Well, going to a road. There might not be a road for miles; wait, no, I tell a lie. There's a settlement of living ponies a few hours walk from- No, not applicable. For all we know, it might be some sort of paladin stronghold. We have to-
The sound of something falling and smashing into the ground only a couple of meters away from us shook me out of my contemplation. We paused, and on some unspoken word, we hefted our weapons- I favoured my sword, while Wind lifted a pair of axes he'd found from the armoury we'd looted. I absently noticed that the axeheads were glowing with a red light, and I filed that away under 'ask him how he does that.'
Wind Brace flicked his yellowing eyes around him, trying to find the source of the crash. "What do you suppose that was, old fellow?"
I shook my skull, pinpointing and triangulating where it was with my superior sense of hearing. "I have no idea. I think that we should check it out though." Though this would be the wrong thing to do in just about any horror movie, something told me that knowing about specific tropes of horror movies and others wouldn't really be applicable to our situation. I was a skeleton travelling with a zombie. We didn't need horror movie tropes, we were a horror movie.
We advanced to the crash site, hoping that whatever was there wasn't too dangerous. Wind Brace's axes were at the ready, as was my sword. The crater was rather small, implying that whatever had crashed hadn't been that big to begin with. We walked up carefully nonetheless, concerned it might be some incendiary device that just hadn't properly exploded yet. When I saw what lay at the bottom of the tiny crater, my jaw literally fell off. No way was this here. What next, a Red Orb? Wind Brace, ever helpful, got my jar and handed it to me.
"Ank hyou." I mumbled, reattaching my jaw as I looked at the object yet again.
It was a small, emerald green flask, which I picked up reverently. Wind Brace looked at me curiously. "What's that? Do you know what that is?"
"This is an Estus flask. Undead where I'm from favour these flasks, as they can heal most wounds. What on Earth is an Estus flask doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?"
Wind Brace shrugged. "I have no idea."
I definitely didn't; video game items in Equestria was odd. Maybe it was a side effect of the Pawns being thrown here? Gods aren't always the most careful beings. Look at Aphrodite and Ares, tied up when they were having sex behind Hephaestus' back, and every god present laughed at them. Then, Poseidon had to pay Hephaestus a full dowry.
In any case, it always paid to be cautious. I gripped my sword tightly, straining my ears for the sound of any intruder at all. When no other traveller readily appeared, I relaxed slightly, and we continued traversing the marsh.
Author's Note
So, to everybody's who's followed and favourited this, first of all I must thank you for your patience.
Every chapter will contain, as a bare minimum, 3,000 words. Any lower than that will be more special chapters.
There was originally a crossover that was with this chapter, but the guy I was crossing over with was unable to do anything more. So, next chapter will be something suitably action packed.
This chapter's a bit unedited, but hopefully it's up to the same standard as the other two.
