Into the Dark

[Roger Smith]

The journey was relatively uneventful, and even with the distance to travel it elapsed quickly enough that it seemed like only a matter of minutes. Slowly staggering his way into the village, the reaction was one that called back to one Artorias was all too familiar with. The reaction to Undead, and their risk of Hollowing and going on a mindless rampage, seeking Souls and power, along with the sheer repulsiveness of an Undead's decaying body as their Humanity slipped away had caused a similar reaction many times before. Distrust, at best, and outright hostility at worst.

More than a few people subtly but quickly vacated the area, and a few doors shut too quickly to be considered simply being pulled shut, and there were many hard looks directed at him. There were even a bold handful that approached, trying to convince the child to get away from the "thing".

The reaction from the child was not at all what was expected, and Artorias turned to look at the boy gratefully, though there was disbelief on his face, hidden as it was by his helmet. Soon enough the people cleared out, leaving them to their own devices, and only paying the occasional odd look their way. Clearly the people of the town were well acquainted with trouble of one sort or another. So long as Artorias could keep to himself, they wouldn't bother him.

Or that was his hope. He wasn't in any shape to do much more than lamely swing his blade and try to retreat from any trouble.

Finally they reached what appeared to be an old, rundown barn. Its interior revealed it as likely for storage, and while under better circumstances it would have hardly been ideal, at present it would serve more than adequately. Artorias shambled in, made his way to one wall, and, leaning heavily against the old wood, slid down gratefully to the floor, and landed sprawled in a heap.

He didn't even have the energy left to offer a thanks to the child before he was out. Whether unconscious, or simply deeply asleep, it was hard to tell.