12-10-2014, 02:12 PM
After his battle with the giants, the Chosen Undead's day had gone by...not quite pleasantly, not quite safely, but reasonably well all things considered. He was able to make good progress, at least proceed another few kilometers into the mountains. He had climbed up hills, edged along some cliffs, and generally just gotten deeper, he had no idea where he was going, and had yet to see anything of great use or import, yet there was still more mountain to get through, he could keep going, he was bound to find something eventually. There clearly were other intelligent beings here, and if he traveled a lot, he would eventually get a feel for the geography. The undead was reasonably certain he could retrace his steps after all, but the sun was setting, darkness was starting to come, to bring an additional chill to the air. The Chosen Undead could likely still bear through it, but it would just be all around better to find some shelter for the night. Yet, that would be easier said than done, given the hostile conditions. So, the zombie started to look around, and eventually he found a decent place. On a cliff not too far from his position, he found a small indentation in the mountain. There was no roof, but the rock went around it on all sides except for the one wide opening. It provided shelter from the wind, and limited shelter from the snow, very limited. It would do.
Then came the next challenge, making some form of shelter. Ultimately, he could do without a roof, he had solid enough walls, and even a bed wasn't too necessary. Honestly at this point he was fairly certain a bed would feel too soft given how long he'd slept on stone, dirt, rock, and wood. What the Chosen Undead truly wanted was some fire, some heat and warmth, but naturally he had left the forest behind some hours ago, and had no means of starting one, which was a bit of a problem. Then, he remembered his sword and shield, specifically he remembered how he had gotten them. Could he make a fire that way? Specifically could he make fuel for a fire? That was an interesting question, and he knew a way to one up even that! He knelt down, getting to one knee as he extended one metal clad hand. It was time to get to work, and once again he reached into that strange substance, this strange, magical power that had so amazed him when he first used it. Once again it flowed from him as he went to work, as he worked to manifest it, manifest it as something much bigger than he had made before. A glowing, shimmering light formed, it was bigger and brighter than that made when he had conjured sword and shield, but that was to be expected! More and more of the light focused and flashed, rippling through the colors. Minutes passed, three...five, ten..until, there was one final flash...and the fire was left there.
It was a small fire, just a small circle of stones, with flames flickering along inside of it, simple really. There was only one thing strange about it, the long, black, soot stained sword embedded into the firepit. The flames danced and twirled about this sword, filling the room with a lovely, relaxing heat. Of course, it was just the aesthetics of it, he didn't think he could remove that soot stained sword even if he tried. It would be useless anyways, far, far worse than his Sunlight Straight Sword. It was just...a reminder of Lordran, of Astora. It was a small comfort, warmth and the look of something that had helped him preserve his humanity, something that had indicated a stop, a place to rest, a place of safety, warmth and relaxation. Already, it was taking some of the chill off, the feel of a nice, warm fire was a wondrous thing really, it could bring peace to even the most troubled mind, and the Chosen felt himself relaxing, sitting next to the fire, snow melting around the bonfire as the heat spread through this little nook of the mountains. As was the case, his guard went down near a bonfire, it had been a place of safety for as long as he could remember. Yet, he was about to find that many things that once had been true, were not true in the Omniverse.
The light of his fire was attracting notice in the night, and he was about to receive a rude awakening, as to just how different this new realm was, from his own home.
Then came the next challenge, making some form of shelter. Ultimately, he could do without a roof, he had solid enough walls, and even a bed wasn't too necessary. Honestly at this point he was fairly certain a bed would feel too soft given how long he'd slept on stone, dirt, rock, and wood. What the Chosen Undead truly wanted was some fire, some heat and warmth, but naturally he had left the forest behind some hours ago, and had no means of starting one, which was a bit of a problem. Then, he remembered his sword and shield, specifically he remembered how he had gotten them. Could he make a fire that way? Specifically could he make fuel for a fire? That was an interesting question, and he knew a way to one up even that! He knelt down, getting to one knee as he extended one metal clad hand. It was time to get to work, and once again he reached into that strange substance, this strange, magical power that had so amazed him when he first used it. Once again it flowed from him as he went to work, as he worked to manifest it, manifest it as something much bigger than he had made before. A glowing, shimmering light formed, it was bigger and brighter than that made when he had conjured sword and shield, but that was to be expected! More and more of the light focused and flashed, rippling through the colors. Minutes passed, three...five, ten..until, there was one final flash...and the fire was left there.
It was a small fire, just a small circle of stones, with flames flickering along inside of it, simple really. There was only one thing strange about it, the long, black, soot stained sword embedded into the firepit. The flames danced and twirled about this sword, filling the room with a lovely, relaxing heat. Of course, it was just the aesthetics of it, he didn't think he could remove that soot stained sword even if he tried. It would be useless anyways, far, far worse than his Sunlight Straight Sword. It was just...a reminder of Lordran, of Astora. It was a small comfort, warmth and the look of something that had helped him preserve his humanity, something that had indicated a stop, a place to rest, a place of safety, warmth and relaxation. Already, it was taking some of the chill off, the feel of a nice, warm fire was a wondrous thing really, it could bring peace to even the most troubled mind, and the Chosen felt himself relaxing, sitting next to the fire, snow melting around the bonfire as the heat spread through this little nook of the mountains. As was the case, his guard went down near a bonfire, it had been a place of safety for as long as he could remember. Yet, he was about to find that many things that once had been true, were not true in the Omniverse.
The light of his fire was attracting notice in the night, and he was about to receive a rude awakening, as to just how different this new realm was, from his own home.