Shantanu and the Curse of The Darksign

[It was for a class, so bear with the explanations, also not complete yet]

Shantanu and the Curse of the Darksign: a Dark Souls Fanfiction

           “If the soul is the source of all life, then what distinguishes the humanity we hold within ourselves?”

Introduction

           Not long ago, I was asked the question once again by some measly traveler. I hate that question so much. What does it matter how long ago it happened? The only thing it truly judges is whether or not you will go hollow before or after the person you’re asking. And the last thing I want to remember right now is going hollow, because that reminds me of the responsibility. So to dismiss the conversation as quickly as possible, I respond with my default answer, “I became Undead about 550 years ago, but that doesn’t really matter in this hellhole, does it?”

               Rather rude of me to not give you any background, so let me fill you in. I will give you the only two facts about myself that I am sure of, so I don’t steer our relations haywire. The first is that my name is Shantanu, and the second is that I vow on my eternal life that I shall slay the gods of this world with as little mercy or regret as possible.

               I watched the Ignition. I watched the Lords obtain their power, and do battle with the Everlasting Dragons. I myself did battle with the Dragons, and I feel misery upon looking back at my naïve self, back under his tyranny. I was once a loyal knight to Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, but never again will I say I am. I watched life in Lordran devolve under the foolishly used might of the lords, and the world spun into chaos. I watched the Chosen Undead- Dmitri- fight for Velka, and try to strike out at the gods, but he was simply not strong enough, and went hollow long ago. The poor bastard couldn’t trust anyone but himself, and eventually he lost his last shred of humanity too. Nobody is all too sure where he resides now, but a cold tremor went through my heart when I saw him set out for the last time.

I am not a great deal unlike Dmitri- the only things I have and true faith in are that of my weapons and my armor, though I don’t suppose there is anything I can do regarding the armor, as Gwyn, upon my resignation of faithfulness to him, warped it into a monstrous suit and melded it to my bones, leaving me permanently trapped in here until I go fully Hollow. I’ve tried to remove it, trust me; there is just no hope of it coming off, it starts to tear at my flesh if I pull too hard. I’m beginning to be able to feel through it, but at least it serves me well.

For all that they have done to me, the knights I left behind, and the people of this world, the Lords shall pay with their lives.

Excerpt 1: Recorded whilst resting at Anastasia’s bonfire in what remains of Firelink Shrine.

It’s been a very long time since the Dragon War, something I’m guilty of admitting I took part in. It brings me great pain to know that I ended so many lives at the hands of a corrupt ruler- had I only known he would turn later. The dragons never did anything wrong; for some reason we decided to conquer them, why I am not sure, but we did, brutally. To be blunt I am not sure if many remain, but I’ll make it part of my mission to find the remaining population and pay them my respects.

A few seemingly good humans live here now. One is by the name of Petrus, a cleric from Thorolund. He seems a bit shaky, but not all that bad; he is a cleric after all. The other man here remains nameless, but seems more so solemn, and expresses it. He knows a great deal of the people who have visited here, assuming that he has been here for quite some time. Perhaps he gave up his quest long ago, or maybe he never intended to have one and was simply banished to Lordran. I’m afraid my answers are nigh, but no matter- in time I will learn more. For now I shall rest- night is falling, and it is most unwise to mill around post sundown in Lordran.

Excerpt 2: recorded whilst standing at the Sunlight Altar in the Undead Parish

               I’ve made my way through the Undead Burg and came across something horrible. Long ago, Gwyn ordered some of his remaining loyal knights to patrol Lordran, in search of demons to slay and to keep guard. On my way through the Burg I had discovered one of these knights, but he was no longer what I remembered us to be. He just stood, facing the town, silent and aimless. I could smell the stench of death tainting his armor, yet still he stood there- motionless. I called out to him in hopes of a positive response, and again I was repaid with nothing. As I strolled up behind him to call out again, he swung around quickly to face me, almost out of fear. No sooner did his eye contact me did his sword come down and nearly lop my arm off. I blocked it, and began to back up, but he showed no sign of halting the flurry of strikes. I was not sure how much of the onslaught I could hold up, and as he charged forward I lunged off to the side, passing by harmlessly. The force of his swing sent him careening forward and teetering on a ledge (which I myself could have very well been pushed off of had I continued to retreat). Just as I rush to rescue him, the ground beneath cracks away, and he slides down the sheer cliff. The shield clanks down the side and he is holding on the ledge with his left hand, still clutching the sword tightly in his right. I threw down my hand and yelled, “hold on!’ I see a glimmer of desperation in his eyes; perhaps he wants me to spare him? To punctuate my thought he plunges his sword deep within my left shoulder and begins to pull himself back up with it. I slid down and punched him in the face to shake off his balance, then ripped out the blade and messily hacked off his arm at the elbow. "Oh god please no," i whispered to myself as blood spouted out of my shoulder. "Not here, not now..." The world began to slide and shimmer about as I fell to my knees, soaking myself in my own blood. "Please...no..." A slow but marching darkness closed in around my vision, and it was not before long that I had completely bled out, the darkness fully encapsulated my vision, and life left my corpse behind and passed into the nether.

A roaring burst of flame arises from the bonfire and out I step, engulfed in the conflagration. "Well, that was inconvenient; now I know not to trust those guys anymore. Yeesh." And back off I went *again* through Firelink Shrine and the Upper Undead Burg, now to touch my bloodstain and recover my lost humanity. More quietly now than last time I peer over the dilapidated railing to see if the knight is there- he is not. "Thank goodness," I muttered, "though if he was I'd be sure to teach him a lesson this time around." Next to my bloodstain was his blade, jammed between the mortar holding the wobbly stones together that made up the ground. "This could be useful," I thought, clicking the blade into two interlocking scales of my armor. "My blade serves me fine, but I'll make sure to make sure this doesn't go to waste." (Another thing I forgot to mention;  Gwyn also changed my weapons alone with my armor. What was once a standard issue greatsword has now become a giant, serrated curved blade. It's not quite as sturdy as my original blade, but it gets the job done. My shield has become melded to my forearm as well, taking the form of an enormous gauntlet and granting me quite a large left hand. My right arm, though not as fearsome, is fixed with some build in claws between my knuckles, and is less guarded for facilitation of using my weapons. More on this later.)

As I proceed through the Burg I found myself at the base of a massive spiraling tower. Up the stairs I went until I reached a small arch leading back outside. An empty, ruined bridge lay before me when I thought I heard the unmistakable *twang* of a crossbow string. A bolt then lodged itself in the back of my arm. "Bastard! Get down here!" A second bolt followed the first into my hip from the second archer. "Alright then, that’s how we’ll do it!" I ripped the bolts out, then rushed over to the tower where the archers stood. A ladder on the left side led up to the top. Hurrying up with my gimped hand, the undead archers then met me face to face and attempted to knock me off. The first archer tried to rush me with his longsword, but he missed his swing, leaving me open to grabbing his chestplate and hurling him down off the top of the tower, crumpling upon hitting the ground. The second archer tried to fire off another bolt, but missed, and gave me time to clamber up the ladder. He tossed aside the crossbow and grabbed his sword. Rushing forward he attempted an overhead strike, hoping to slash my jugular- shame he was a bit too slow. I parried the sword with my shield arm, leaving open to a crippling punch to his open abdomen. He bent to his knees, and I finished him off with a crushing blow to the face from my clawed foot. "That's what you get." Sliding back down the ladder I'm again greeted with the bridge, but something felt off. I continued down the bridge and felt vibrations. From the top of the opposite tower leapt a Taurus Demon, knocking a multitude of bricks off through air pressure alone. "Oh," I muttered, as the Demon’s bellowing shook the air. Hurriedly I rushed back and realized there was nowhere to go- except up. I hurried up the ladder as fast as I could and at the top of it performed a heal miracle. Nothing too much, as time was of the essence. “Alright, here goes nothin’,” I reassured myself with these words while taking a few steps back, then sprinting forward and bounding off the structure. The Taurus Demon right where I wanted him, I brandished my mighty blade in both hands and plunged it deep within his snout, then quickly shifted it to carve a large swathe through it’s skull. it’s blood, incredibly hot, might I add, showered forth from it’s nearly caved in skull. It gave out an unconscious groan of agony, and the mighty beast was no more. “That could have been very ugly,” I said aloud with a chuckle, then coughed on some excess demon blood. I proceeded through what remained of the Burg till I saw a truly beautiful sight. Never in my life had I actually seen it well, but this was the first truly picture-esque moment I had of the sun. Continuing through the whilst following it’s rays onto a small clearing, where I did not even realize I was accompanied. [Note; Solaire’s dialogue is pulled from Dark Souls itself. Seeing as my character is essentially the character you would play as, the dialogue between the two would remain practically identical. Also, credit exists where credit is due, thus the note.]

“Ah, hello! You don't look Hollow, far from it!”

“And who might you be?”

“I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight.”

“I am Shantanu, once an apostle of Gwyn as well.”

“Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun!”

“I see.”

“… Do you find that strange? Well, you should!”

“Somewhat. It’s not a very good place to come when looking for hope…”

“No need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time!”

“Heh, I’ve nothing to hide.”

“Oh, ah hah! So, I didn't scare you?”

“Not if I didn’t scare you.”

“I have a proposition, if you have a moment.”

“Certainly.”

“The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined.”

“Really? The only one I see my fate twining with is those who are no longer with us.”

“In a land brimming with Hollows, could that really be mere chance?”

“Perhaps not.”

“So, what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?”

“I’d be pleased to.”

“This pleases me greatly! Well then, take this.” Solaire then handed me what the people of Lordran call a White Sign Soapstone. This item, along with the other Soapstones in which I have encountered, are truly miraculous items, and an excerpt, potentially the next, shall be devoted to them.

“Thank you kindly Solaire. Best of luck on your travels. Stay safe, and don’t go Hollow.”

“Praise the Sun!”

A smile could not help but stretch across my demented face as I turned and walked away. How could anyone, let alone an individual, stare me in the eye and not slay me on sight of my hideous form? A true hero, that’s who.

Unfortunately, my words were to be short, as no longer did I step upon the bridge to enter the Undead Parish did a massive burst of flame incinerate both me and the hollows at the end of the bridge. Had it not been for the fact that my armor and shield are not built to withstand the fiercest of flame, I would have died on the spot.

“Good lord!” Quickly I pulled out my estus flask and took a swig. The sensation burned, but a warm, benevolent burn, and my wounds healed. Shortly after the source of the flames decided to reveal itself; perched at the opposite side of the bridge was a massive, crimson, reptilian monstrosity.

“A...Dragon? But almost none remain!” Lo and behold, I was wrong. It was no dragon, but a Wyvern, with only two hind limbs and a set of wings.

“I have no mercy for your kind,” I uttered, clanging the hilt of my blade on my gauntlet, “have at me!”

The wyvern, now fully drawn to me, leapt off it’s perch and prepared to swoop down over me and set me ablaze once more. But I had other plans in store; shield arm up, I unclipped the Burg knight’s blade from my waist. Just as the wyvern began to spout it’s plume of flame, I rolled beneath it’s maw, hardly out of harm’s way. Then, using the weight of my body to my advantage, I spun in a low circle and with all my might, drove the Knight’s blade straight into the Wyvern’s stomach. The bridge instantly became drenched in wyvern blood as the beast sustained flight, the liquid lightly corroding the rock upon impact. The wyvern, still alive, though wounded,  attempted once more to kill me, this time more personally. But I would give it no time to do so; as soon as it landed on the bridge, I took my blade in both hands, leapt to the side of it’s head, and swung down with the full weight of my blade. The wyvern’s head instantly separated from it’s body, the base of it’s skull and the stump at the end of it’s neck now furiously spouting it’s corrosive blood onto the bridge. I leapt out of the way and into the Parish to assure it did not eat though my armor. hurrying through the archway I notice a grand statue of a mother and child, and in front of it, an unlit bonfire. “thank heavens.” I held my hand over it for a brief moment, and the flames burst forth. a beautiful sound it is, roaring fire. For now I shall rest, and perhaps I will put some more time into recording what I know of this world.

Except 3: Recorded whilst resting at the Parish bonfire, near Andre of Astora, the Blacksmith

If there has ever been anything to say about Lordran, it would be that this place is full of mystery. The lay of the land, it’s inhabitants, it’s purpose, even the time here is deceptive. Because adventuring has become somewhat dangerous due to an overwhelming amount of Darkwraiths, I suppose today’s entry will be to share what I know of this strange world.

To kick everything off, an “undead,” should you not know, is one who is cursed with the Darksign, meaning that, no matter how hard you try, or not try, you can never truly die. You just keep on returning to the world and living. This may seem nice to some, but there is only so much time one can have before they lose their minds and go completely hollow, where all hope and faith is lost in existing. Only then can an undead truly die.

The first of which things I should share knowledge about is that of the time. For reasons unknown and largely unexplainable, time in Lordran is distorted. Many other undead roam this place, as it is where all undead are banished, but it is not always guaranteed that you see them. Occasionally, an opaque ghost will flit past you, minding it’s own buisness, and other times it will try to interact with you through waving or imitating your actions. These are indeed other undead, but it’s anyone’s guess as to where in time they are- they are simply in the same space. this also ties back to the Soapstone Solaire gave me, and why they are such fantastic things. Soapstones allow undead, in human form, to be able to summon other undead into their world to interact with them. The White Sign Soapstone specifically allows for human undead to summon a helpful phantom, whilst the Red Sign Soapstone allows the host to summon a dark spirit, with intention to do battle. A third, unique soapstone is orange, which allows undead to place messages in other worlds, to communicate, assist, and deceive.

Also, becoming “human” and what not- it’s a wild tale, but here’s what I think of it: humanity, which in a literal sense is a tiny black sprite, is incredibly crucial to undead, for it is what allows us to restore our human forms. At bonfires, we are given two options as to how we wish to use our humanity. One is to reverse the process of hollowing, which happens when we “die.” Being in a hollowed form is not necessarily bad, but there are things that human undead can do that hollows cannot; hollows cannot summon other undead, nor get invaded. Humans also can kindle their bonfires, something all undead treasure. The Church even sent over their undead priests to find something called the Rite of Kindling, which permits undead to further kindle their bonfires more than once. The more the Church could kindle, the more humanity they could donate to their precious “Lords.” We know where I stand with the Lords, so let’s end that thought before I go on a tirade.

There is also  an instance in which one can get invaded by members of certain covenants. One of which called the D- speak of the devil. Hopefully I”ll be right back. An issue to attend to has arisen.

I had gotten invaded right then by a Darkwraith, needless to say he was “tended to,” and by that I mean a two handed chop to the hip, hack to the shoulder, and a finalizing smash straight down the middle, splitting him clean in two.. Darkwraiths are a group in which believe and are trained in the art of Lifedrain; using a specialized gauntlet to literally sap the humanity from other undead they choose to invade. one could argue that they are the most evil of undead, but some could say otherwise. They could be more human than the rest of us, after all.

        A second covenant is called the Forest Hunters. not far from where I am taking residence now lies a massive grove called the Darkroot Forest. The Forest Hunters are the guardians of this wood, though their motives seem unclear to me. I originally suspected that they were defending the Great Grey Wolf Sif, but Alvina, leader of the Forest Hunters, claims she distrusts Sif. Perhaps she did not trust Knight Artorias, Sif’s companion and one of Lord Gwyn’s 4 most trusted knights, which leads her to mistrust Sif. It could be anyone’s guess, honestly. I tend to stay far from the place anyway, something about it just disturbs me, but at the same time I am drawn to it.

Another sort of covenant based on invading is that of the Blades of the Darkmoon. Darkmoons are somewhat more based of of justice- their purpose is to hunt down the guilty and make them pay for their sins. Darkwraiths and Forest Hunters who become indicted during invasions, or undead who attack the innocent are instantly listed in the Darkmoon Blade’s Book of the Guilty, where Darkmoons can track those who have sinned.

Having seen of these covenants come from the ground up, and their leaders take their positions, I’m unsure I will join any covenant. I do not feel as if I should pledge any sort of allegiance to these leaders, for they could become just as corrupt as the lords I plan to kill. In the mean time, I’ll overcome my suspicions and re-enter the Darkroot Forest. Perhaps I shall find something of interest in there.