Board Thread:Off Topic/@comment-14138255-20170320024103/@comment-14138255-20170512185849

 Chapter 8: The Witch Hunt   

 Returning to Firelink, Pyrrha felt her skin pulsate and the lumbar where her Darksign was seethed and burned. She vaguely felt this on the High Wall when she defeated the icy creature and on the parapet where the bat winged creatures dropped her off, but only had a moment now to truly notice it. She looked at her hand and saw small white dots moving about her hand, like an electrical current or a nerve cell, though they didn’t have a specific pattern. Pyrrha stood there for a small while trying to figure this out on her own. The Fire Keeper approached and solved the problem for her.

“ You are brimming with souls, Ashen One” the Fire Keeper spoke, startling Pyrrha, who did not hear her approach. “ I’m...what?” Pyrrha said, not understanding what she meant. “ The defeat of your foes in Lothric have granted you a good many souls, and you are teeming with them. More than you are perhaps used to.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened slightly as the Fire Keeper explained. “Wait...souls? Is that what the feeling was? Was I...absorbing their souls?” Pyrrha said, the implications worrying to her.

“ Yes” the Fire Keeper candidly spoke, the implications not so troubling to her.

Pyrrha had put her hand to her head in dizzying queasiness. The night she had died, the first time, she was to undergo an operation to make her a powerful being called a maiden, but to do so she had to take the soul of the previous one. What little she felt of the procedure was painful and searing, to say nothing of the moral implications involved with ripping another person’s soul out.

The Fire Keeper noticed Pyrrha’s distress. “Ashen One, are you alright? Have I upset you?”

“ No” Pyrrha assured her, “I just… Why, do I absorb them? What causes this?”

The Fire Keeper began to explain. “In every being lies a power, a form of energy, proportional to their strength, skill and mind, which is measured in what we call Souls. When a being dies, a small portion is absorbed by the killer, or anyone nearby who can channel such energy. The rest is spilt at their resting place, contained by its former master’s blood. In time the stain will fade-”

“ And so will the souls, is that correct?” Pyrrha interrupted, demonstrating a developing command over the concept. “ Unless it is retrieved in time, all the souls held would be lost.” The Fire Keeper confirmed.

Pyrrha looked down, slightly perturbed. “What a waste.”

“ It is partly why I am here.”

“ Hmm?”

“ To be Undead, especially Unkindled, is to be a vessel of souls, sovereigness souls will become your strength. I shall show you how.” The Fire Keeper then held out her palm to Pyrrha. “Touch the darkness within me, and let these souls within you find their new master.”

Pyrrha looked at her hand and processed what she said, and nervously took it, with the Fire Keeper firmly but gently holding it. The Fire Keeper and Pyrrha’s hands then became enveloped in brilliant light, and Pyrrha’s began to surge, feeling the Darksign on her back flaring but then stopping almost immediately.

“ Breathe, relax.” The Fire Keeper whispered, “focus on the parts of yourself you wish to be enriched.” Pyrrha shut her eyes and focused, as rivers of energy began leaving and then entering her body in quick succession.

“ Let these souls, withdrawn from their vessels, manifestations of disparity, elucidated by fire, burrow deep within me, retreating to a darkness beyond the reach of flame. Let them assume a new master, inhabiting ash, casting themselves upon new forms.” The Fire Keeper chanted. The energy flowed until a surge rushed suddenly to Pyrrha, who slightly shook. The tingling and pulsating of the Darksign was gone, as were the white pinpricks of energy that were present on her person.

“ Do you feel any different, Ashen One?” the Fire Keeper kindly asked. Pyrrha couldn’t really tell, but she did feel...healthier, somewhat lighter and stronger. She couldn’t explain it, but it was clear. “I do, I feel more powerful, ever so slightly.”

“ That is good. The stronger you become, the more souls you will require to improve yourself more.”

Pyrrha shrank however and looked away.

“ Absorbing another person’s soul to make myself stronger for a goal I am vaguely aware of. Well, at least nothing has changed much.”

“ I am sorry Ashen One if-” the Fire Keeper began to speak, but Pyrrha quickly stopped her.

“ No no, it’s alright. And please, you can call me Pyrrha, I would like that more.” Pyrrha said, readjusted from her thoughts.

The Fire Keeper’s expression didn’t change. “Very well” she said quickly, “I shall refer to you as Pyrrha if that is what you wish” she said mechanically, without the warmth and friendliness Pyrrha had admittedly hoped. It was enough though, she supposed, and lightly bowed before making her way to the bonfire to resume her journey.

 Upon the parapet she looked down to the area below her, down the ramparts, which were crumbling with age with stone bricks crumpled in a heap at the base of the walls and down the stairs.

She walked to the left and continued through the ramparts looking over the gatehouse, pondering if there was a way through, when she saw something peculiar: several rocks with fabric stuck to them all cluttered near the bridge that once lead to the castle. She drew closer and went down the steps to view them. She went past the ruined wagons and moved closer. But she gasped in horror when she saw the boulders were chained to people, clad in tattered robes, with only their arms visible, clutching their staves with hands so decayed they had become long and spindly. They were the same ones she had seen in the High Wall, only there were dozens of them.

Pyrrha slowly walked amongst them, looking vainly for any sign of life. “Hello?” she shouted, but she received no reply...at least, at first.

But then she heard shuffling and a light rasping sound. She turned around and saw one of the cloaked figures shifting and struggling under the weight of the boulder, and she was able to hear him more clearly now.

“ Please… grant me death...undo my shackles…” cried an old and feeble voice. Pyrrha quickly made her way to the old being. She knelt down and looked at the chains binding him to the boulder, looking for a way to loosen them. But just then, the being’s hand fumbled, flimsy grasping her hand. “Wait, could it be?” he asked. Pyrrha was a bit unnerved by his manner, but he continued. “Oh, as I live and breath, a Champion of Ash. Please, help me up” the man requested. Pyrrha looked at the boulder on his back. “Oh, don’t worry about that, I just need leverage to support it. I’m fine.”

Pyrrha helped the shrouded figure stand up and he rested his weight on his staff before speaking. “Ah, thank you Champion of Ash, I am most grateful for the rescue” said he. “ Thank you, I’m just glad to have found you, it looked like no one here was alive.”

“ That was our purpose Champion of Ash. We had come to this land, close to the first flame, in order to die. All of my fellow pilgrims have done so...somehow I have failed to die as ordained.”

Pyrrha looked down at the dusty ground, her head heavy. “That...makes two of us.”

The cloaked figure looked down to her. Though his face obscured by his wrappings (if he had a face at all), his body language conveyed a sort of sympathy. “Say, Champion of Ash, how does the idea of taking me into your service strike you?” Pyrrha looked up at him, “I was once a sorcerer, surely I can be of use.”

Pyrrha paused before smiling. “It would honor me. And besides, it’d be better than leaving you here.” The cloaked man lifted up in what little motion of happiness he could muster in his decrepit body. “Ohh. I am honored, truly. I should be dead, yet you have given me purpose anew. I, Yoel of Londor, do solemnly pledge myself to you.”

Yoel then reached into his pocket and took out a ‘homeward bone’ as Greirat had called it. His whispers were almost inaudible, but he mentioned wanting to be taken to where the bell had rung. When he crushed the bone, with some difficulty given his long, frail looking fingers, he disappeared.

Pyrrha was left alone with the dead pilgrims, with the gate to the Undead Settlement ahead of her. “Purpose anew” she muttered to herself, and smiled. Somehow, meeting Yoel gave her hope.

 She walked back up to the gatehouse and was alarmed by the presence of hollows, shambling aimlessly near the gate to the rest of the settlement. She readied her sword and shield, but stopped herself. One of the hollows turned to her and stared blankly, and then shambled off without so much a groan. Pyrrha lowered her weapon and let them pass. It was always so puzzling to gather which hollows were hostile and which weren’t. There was no way a Creature of Grimm would accommodate a human in their ranks, it was such an abstract notion. She remembered the serpent and the aggravated hollows on the High Wall and wondered if the people in this world had as much trouble discerning friend from foe as she did now.

Just then the gate opened, revealing a figure in dirty and disheveled farmer’s garb. To his left and right were 3 desiccated hounds growling and twitching near their master. Before the gate had finished opening the hounds had dashed forward in a frenzy and began to attack the docile hollows. Completely blindsided from their foggy wandering, the hounds began to rip at them, dragging and thrashing them about with their few sharp teeth.

“ No, NO!” Pyrrha cried out, and jumped in to save them from the undead canines. She slashed at one, immediately felling it, but a second one bit her on the arm, sending a sharp pain through her arm as it clamped its maw on it. Pyrrha cried in pain before repeatedly hitting it, eventually knocking it off before stabbing it. The last one finished mauling the hollow it had attacked and lunged toward Pyrrha, who spun and slashed at it mid air.

The dogs were dead, but so were all the innocent hollows, and up ahead the gate was closing. The dogs’ handler slowly began to walk away, Pyrrha glimpsing what could faintly be described as a smile on its face. Pyrrha quickly dashed at the gate and slid across to clear the gate before it closed. The handler turned around in shock before lunging at her with a scream. Pyrrha raised her shield and put her sword pointed behind it and stabbed the handler. As it died, the handler whispered something, but she couldn’t make it out. It sounded like a name.

Pyrrha looked at the handler’s body. Despite what it cruelly did to the hollows outside, Pyrrha still couldn’t help but be unnerved by killing it, much as she had been in the Cemetery and the High Wall.

She wandered into a ruined cabin near a building that lead into the rest of the settlement. She began to walk to it, but the smell repulsed her, and as she turned away for air she spotted a strange tower in the distance. She tried looking closer, and found a strange shape moving on the top. A dark line left the shape, and accounting for this she realized it was a giant person on the tower, with an equally giant bow and arrow.

Pyrrha recoiled from the sight in puzzlement, but felt it’d be better to move on and find out later. She approached the building, which was made of cobblestone and had a wretched and appalling smell. In the distance she could hear hums and mutters. She went to the door and opened it slowly opened it, immediately finding the source of the stench.

Bodies. Dozens, some hanging upside down, wrapped head to toe in canvas, some cramped and stuffed into cages, various limbs hanging out. A few of them still faintly shivered. The smell either went away or was masked by Pyrrha’s numb horror as she stumbled in. No action taken by the most depraved bandit clans in Mistral’s history or those who had endured the worst of The Great War could easily match this house that she had wandered into. The air and how it interacted with the bodies, coupled with her growing distress, caused her to tear up and look for an exit.

At that moment she heard the hums, no hymns, apparently outside, and she saw an open doorway, the outside invisible from the cover of bright light. She quickly made her way, to the doorway, half to investigate this sound, half to escape from the corpses in the house. The doorway led to a balcony, which overlooked a chunk of the settlement, which consisted of ramshackle buildings of wood, with occasional cobblestone arches or bridges. The area where the hymns were derived from had a large bonfire, with a tree burning in the middle, and was surrounded by several hollows clothed in the same farmer attire as the dog handler near the gate. At the base of the bonfire was a large, fat being clad in a very wide brimmed hat, a bronze cuirass, and a simple, clerical gown. In her hand, currently used as a walking stick of sorts was a long pole with a spiked club at the head, and a large, thick, steel spined book tucked under her right arm. Near the large being were 3 hollows whose hands were tied, with a figure in a hood at the front. The large being bellowed out in low woman’s voice.

“ Step forth Loretta, to be judged before The Saint’s most holy communion” the woman spoke, before thumping the pommel of the polearm on the ground, which notified a member of the congregation to shove the hooded figure, Loretta, forward. Pyrrha saw this and crouched behind the wooden railing on the balcony, unbeknownst to her a impish creature wearing a similar hood to Greirat’s snuck behind her. The imp raised the hatchet in its hand and struck Pyrrha just as she looked behind her, knocking her off the balcony, breaking the railing and sending one of the bodies that was hanging nearby plummeting to the ground.

Pyrrha landed with a thud and the congregation became alert and raised their weapons, consisting of pitchforks, hatchets, and torches. The head woman turned her head at the commotion in confusement, and then smiled menacingly. The woman then spoke, softly but dripping in condescension.

“ Ah, welcome child. We welcome newcomers to our mass, as these…” she motioned to the captives, including Loretta, “...homesteaders, have shown.”

Pyrrha slowly got up, having recovered from the shock of being knocked off the balcony.

“ Mass?” Pyrrha asked, the memory of the bodies and the situation with the clearly imprisoned people near the woman in mind.

“ Indeed” the evangelist continued, “we have come to this village to spread the word of The Deep, the word of our saint. Through our sermons we have cleansed the people of this village, and have brought peace and good order.” The words raced in Pyrrha’s mind as she did the arithmetic, and it made her face pale.

“ Those bodies...y-you were behind those...” The words drained her as she said them.

“ They were a sinful people. They insulted and blasphemed against us and the Cathedral! They had called us filthy, and yet wallowed in their own vices, screeching as the Dark Sign claimed them one by one! We brought with us fire, and with it, salvation from the accursed cinder. Lo, even amongst the disgraced there is purpose, to make able our goodly saint.”

Hearing it was true, all Pyrrha could do was stare shocked. Remnant was not perfect, and she knew this. She knew people could still be monstrous and superstitious, especially where the kingdom’s safety waned, blaming a random townsperson or passerby of attracting the Grimm and executing them to ease the tensions amongst them. But such a purge...it was a shattering and alien concept. ‘The bodies... so many… what was this place…?’

Loretta turned to Pyrrha and shook her head, speaking with an elderly voice.

“ Foolish girl, you should have left when you saw the bodies! What possessed you to come here?”

The evangelist’s face twisted into a sudden and immediate anger. “Be silent!”

Pyrrha snapped out of her shock and timidly answered. “Greirat...he-he sent me.”

Loretta looked down and squirmed. “That foolish boy, he had no right to do this to you.”

The evangelist couldn’t care less about their conversation and turned, snarling at Loretta. “I said SILENCE infidel! You can still be brought to Aldrich like the rest.”

“ Aldrich? The Lord of Cinder?” Pyrrha exclaimed.

The evangelist snapped her head to Pyrrha and squinted, before opening in surprise, not in what she said, but who she was. “An...unkindled?”

Loretta then leaned to Pyrrha and shouted. “Run girl! Run n-”

She was immediately silenced by the evangelist, who bashed her over the head with the spine of her tome, and she fell to the ground flat. Pyrrha was once again shocked and upset. “No!” she cried out.

“ SEIZE HER! SEIZE THE HERETIC!!!” the evangelist knashed.

At that moment the previously silent, if menacing, crowd began to converge on Pyrrha. No time to ready her weapons, she had to act fast. A hollow charged at her with a pitchfork, which Pyrrha immediately grabbed used its momentum to swing the hollow aside while keeping hold of the pitchfork, flipping it around to overhead swing another hollow with a machete across the face, sending it reeling. She crouched down immediately after, brought the pitchfork up in reverse grip, and brought her thumb up for aiming before throwing it at the evangelist. The evangelist sidestepped however, the pitchfork hitting a hapless congregation member, who ended up being pinned to the burning tree.

Pyrrha made her move regardless however, and tried to grab Loretta’s hand, the other prisoners having either died or escaped in the chaos. However at that moment, Pyrrha was slammed by the evangelists pole-mace, sending her flying. Pyrrha still was able to clutch on to Loretta’s finger bone. She looked to Loretta herself, her body was disturbed by the force of the evangelist launching Pyrrha, and blood oozing from where she had been hit by the book. The evangelist let out a mirthful laugh of satisfaction.

‘ Greirat...I’m so sorry” she thought to herself. Just then, scores of hollowed farmers and villagers like the congregation started moving out and pouring from different entrances, far too many for what she could deal with. She hastily got up and started running, with the mob in hot pursuit. She ran behind the burning tree only to be blindsided by a worker, who stabbed at her. Yelping in pain, spun and kicked him off onto the ground below and dropped down the lower level with him, drawing her sword. On the patio of one of the houses, a hollowed worker threw a ball at Pyrrha, which she ducked, the ceramic ball breaking and exploding into flames, engulfing the hollow she had knocked down before.

The sound of the mob got louder and she rushed through the pathways to the bridge that lead out, the wooden beams supporting the end having 2 more corpses strung along it. However another, somewhat smaller mob was rushing across from the stone tower past it. She doubled back and went the other way, through an arch and spotted a door leading into a building. She immediately opened the door, went inside, closed the door, and then barred it with a pitchfork lying on the floor, immediately earning a few bashings on the door.

She paused for breath and then turned around, running headfirst into more bodies hung from the ceiling, only more densely packed and all hanging upside down, like a human slaughterhouse. Pyrrha screamed in alarm and began stumbling around, breathing heavily and slightly claustrophobic by the amount of bodies present in the single room. She calmed down after briefly hyperventilating, and the sound of the banging on the door had grown fainter, no doubt as the mob dispersed to find another way in. Lined on the walls were more of the body cages, and even a solitary body slumped against the wall. There was a hole in the floor with a faint light coming from within. Judging it to be safe, she jumped down and readied her weapons, but there were none in the hole. Instead a brewing pot was on a stove, which smelled delicious and inviting. Next to the pot was an illegible note and an empty wooden mug along with spoiled fruits and onions. She approached the bowl, which proved to be the real source of the light in the room, and recognized the golden fluid within.

‘ Estus?’ Pyrrha thought to herself. There was a wooden ladle next to the pot. Pyrrha bashfully smiled, her panic and stress finally easing a bit. She took the ladle and drank, what wounds she had felt easing. After having her fill, she wandered out through the doorway and out to a tight street, with stone buildings flanking the sides, and with a stone archway up ahead. Where 2 members of the mob were searching the area for her. They turned around hearing her and attacked. This time with her shield and sword ready she charged. She blocked a downward stab from their pitchfork while stabbing the other as it raised its machete. She angled her shield to slide the pitchfork down and slashed as she spun around. Behind her another hollow crashed through the wooden barrier blocking the doorway to the building to the left of her. Pyrrha used its momentum to let it slam harmlessly into a wall.

Up ahead, before the archway, was a giant, undead creature, with a cage similar to the ones the corpses were stuffed in on its back, only empty, and it wielded a large blade with handles on both sides, similar to what is used to cut trees.

The giant noticed her and lumbered toward her. It swung its large machete, which Pyrrha tried to block only to stagger and stumble from the impact, which the giant followed up with a kick, which sent her into the wall of one of the buildings. The giant roared in incoherent rage and swung again. Pyrrha, shocked from the impact, rolled away just in time, managing to stand up. The giant then swung horizontally, which Pyrrha rolled under, and finally the giant brought its blade down, rapidly slamming it three times like a pouty child. Pyrrha dodged these as well and began to strike at the giant, eventually felling it. But the sound of the mob, though faint grew close and she decided to retreat before they caught onto her trail.

She stumbled through building that was past the archway and out into the open air, where to her right was a bridge that lead to a wooden gate with iron bars and up ahead was a cemetery. She took this time pant and catch her breath, after what had been a tiring and horrible-

She stood upright immediately with her weapons ready, her Dark Sign chilled and freezing on her back, the hairs on her neck and crown of her head standing upright. She was fully alert, though she didn’t know what for, only knowing that she was in danger. She walked cautiously forward, slowly and carefully feeling encroaching danger.

Around the corner turned a figure in disheveled plate armor with a peaked helmet, sporting a serrated sword and small buckler shield, glowing faintly tinted purple. The knight screeched and charged. Pyrrha raised her shield, but the knight stopped and then kicked her shield, throwing her off balance. Wasting no time, the mad knight raised its sword, but Pyrrha was quick enough to duck un-

The sword hit her however, sending her stumbling. She tried to reach for Estus but the knight didn’t let up. She blocked one of his swings and prepared to slash, but the knight punched Pyrrha’s sword arm with his buckler and followed it up by stabbing her through the abdomen.

The pain was enormous and excruciating, and she can feel blood leaving her body. This was made worse when the sword was pulled out, the serrated blade doing a lot of damage. She was left on her hands and knees facing away from the knight, with one hand on her abdomen. Through her foggy gaze she could see something in the distance: a bonfire. Desperate, she rushed towards it, possibly her only chance, but the knight grabbed her neck and prepared to finish her.

“ Hodrick!” a woman’s voice called. The knight, Hodrick, looked up and saw a woman clad in armor, the chest piece covered in what looked like fine linen, the pauldrons large and elegant, with the chainmail sleeves wide and flowing, and with long steel greaves and boots, silver hair restrained by her circlet. In her hands was a long, round estoc. She dropped down and prepared a stab against Hodrick, who blocked with his sword and shoved it aside. Before she can follow through, Hodrick, who had not let go of Pyrrha’s neck, threw her off the cliff before running. The woman gave a light pursuit, btu looked to Pyrrha, who had grabbed hold of a ledge on the cliff, in clear pain but was unable to do much about it.

“ Take the handle, quickly!” the woman called, and Pyrrha saw she had held the blade end of the estoc and turned the handle to Pyrrha for her to pull her up with. Pyrrha moved to gain momentum and took hold of the handle, with the woman straining to pull her up. On the top of the cliff, Pyrrha panted in immense pain, not only from the stab wound, but from possibly dislocating her arm from grabbing the ledge so abruptly and leaned on the woman who walked her to the bonfire where they rested.

 Once relaxed, Pyrrha sighed and spoke. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“ It was my duty to help someone such as you” the woman replied.

“ Who was he? Did you know him? You mentioned him by name” Pyrrha inquired.

The woman looked down at the bonfire, her face crinkled in bitterness. “Yes, but he doesn’t know me.”

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I got in the way”

“ It is not your fault. What is your name, struggler?”

Pyrrha paused. “Pyrrha, Pyrrha Nikos” she answered candidly.

“ I am Sirris of the Sunless Realms. I am a Blade of the Darkmoon, hunting those who would harm innocents in this realm and all others. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“ I’m so unused to this…” Pyrrha absent mindedly pondered.

“ Hmm?” Sirris inquired.

“ Oh nothing, it’s just...so much is different from where I’m from.”

“ I am told that is the rule rather than the exception.”

“ No I mean this doesn’t happen. This...personal level of destruction and murder. Even for the most sadistic of us, no one where I was from would do anything like what I had seen in the settlement.” Well, almost no one. “ You must have come from a land of angels. You’ll find none here in Lothric. But I swear to you, I and several others like me have not given up. Find us, and we’ll keep you safe, if you be of a lawful heart.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Yes, that would be grand.”

 Then came the painful task.

She walked through Firelink Shrine, past Andre and down towards Greirat, who perked up as she stopped in front of him. “ Oh, hello, you’re back. Have ye’ a chance to deliver that ring yet?”

Pyrrha’s heart sank into untold depths as she reached into her satchel and solemnly gave him Loretta’s bone. Greirat froze as he saw it. “ ...I...I see, she was already dead…”

His words cut her even deeper than before. “Greirat, I’m- I’m so…”

“ Heh” Greirat sadly chuckled to himself, “well...I-I’m not surprised. Would have happened sooner or later. You can keep the ring if you’d like. Consider it a payment I guess.” Greirat sighed briefly but deeply, almost as though gasping for air, and was faintly shaking.

Pyrrha slowly backed away and went out to the center of the shrine, but went behind a wall and looked back at Greirat, who had put his head in his hands and was visibly weeping, even though he never removed the hood.

“ Heavens…! She was already dead…” Pyrrha cupped her mouth with her hands and began tearing up, eventually letting the tears flow and the breathing become irregular. She felt so useless. She couldn’t save a single old woman, let alone her own home.

‘ Why me then? What good am I?’

 '''Author’s Notes: I did it! I managed to update this time! There is a chapter this week and as promised it is longer than normal (tell me if that’s better or not). I started seriously writing this at 3 PM yesterday, started writing again at 9:30 PM yesterday and didn’t stop until 1:08 AM today. I hope you enjoy it. I might start updating bi-weekly, with longer chapters. Wish me luck on finals papers. '''