Into the Dark

[Roger Smith]

As he crossed through the portal, he felt a tightening in his gut, the world swung around crazily, whiteness giving way to a swirling mass of dark colors, and as the world spun crazily he staggered, falling flat upon his face with a groan.

And there he lay for some time, before his senses came back to him clearly. Slowly, he pulled his uninjured arm under him, managing to get his palm flat against the earth, and push himself up, though it took him some time, given his lingering disorientation. He shook his head in a useless attempt to clear his thoughts. For a moment, the aching confusion and rage receded, leaving him...almost clearheaded. Clearheaded enough to take a long, slow look at his surroundings.

Nothing within sight that looked at all familiar. But no longer any trace of the blank expanse of whiteness, either.

With careful, shaking fingers he reached down to the earth and took hold of his sword again. With an effort he pulled it back up, using it almost as a walking stick to help him along, his footing still unsteady. All of the rage, fear, adrenaline, and especially the pain had left him rattled and shaking, weak and aching literally everywhere. It was nearly all he could do to stagger dumbly along in no particular direction, his sword making a clear thunk every time his staggering, awkward walking forced him to plant it heavily in the earth.

His breathing came out ragged, and for the first time since his arrival, he managed to choke out something not a mindless scream. "....need....rest...."

And on he went, so slowly it would be a wonder if he could find anything approaching aid before he simply dropped.

[Formerly Ben10]

Ben had wandered from the strange place called the nexus into this strange part of wherever this was. Clearly it was called the omniverse but what exactly was it? Ben had been through much in his ten years of life but never has something like this ever happened. It was hard to think on things like this without his brainy alien Greymatter here as for some reason he only had access to HeatBlast and none of the others. Ben paced towards the gate to a small village like area to see not many people around but what caught his attention first was the strange person near the gate upon entering. It looked like some sort of Alien but from the looks of thing it was badly hurt. Ben had no way to help this person as he did not have Greymatter to think of a solution or XLR8 to move the alien to a safe place. Ben walked up the alien but was a bit cautious still and readied himself if the alien were to attack him.

Ben then thought something he would usually think from greymatter's standards. What if this Alien knew where this was and how to get home? 'I should ask it'

"Hey alien guy." Ben said assuming it was a guy. "Do you know where we are? I'm trying to find my way back home."

[Roger Smith]

Thunk.

He planted his sword down again, pausing to draw in a deep breath, the fingers in his left arm flexing and slowly curling into a fist. Dimly he realized that only what seemed a few minutes ago he had barely been able to even twitch his fingers. He put it down to being out longer than he thought when he had left the white abyss. The Undead had always healed more easily than the living, and he was a Lord....he was far more sturdy and resilient to injury and recovered more quickly than most any other Undead.

Dim though his memories were, he could remember at least that much. Undead Lords were powerful. He was an Undead Lord. Was....wasn't he?

The effort of trying to piece his thoughts together set upon him with avengeance, and he shook his head violently to try and clear his mind. Lifting his sword, he stretched his arms forward to take another step, but was suddenly made aware of another presence. A voice. Someone speaking.

Thunk.

His sword buried itself in the earth with more force than he had intended, striking a small stone in its path and cutting it nearly in two. He sagged against the blade, whipping his head around to stare at who had spoken.

"Hey alien guy. Do you know where we are? I'm trying to find my way back home."

The question was simple. One he had wondered himself, in some part of his mind still capable of rational thought through all the adrenaline and chaos in his mind. He let out a rasping breath, faint clouds of steam hissing through his helmet. "....home...." he echoed, faintly. Home...he...he also needed to get home. Needed to get back to...to something.

Back to the Dark. Back to the Abyss.

NO!

Some small part of his mind rebelled in that instant, and he flinched, putting his free hand to his head.

Back...back to his Lord. Back to the Lord of Sunlight. Back home.

"....don't....know...." he finally managed to say. "Lost...."

[Formerly Ben10]

This alien was strange but Ben had seen stranger before as the alien used a massive sword as a crutch to hold itself up Ben really wanted to help the alien but had no idea how to even try. It was quite obvious now that the alien was lost as well meaning they were both stuck here. He had no idea what to do except try to make the situation look less glum.

Ben walked over the to alien and looked over to it. He was clearly hurt and Ben wondered what to do.
"I'm lost too and I don't know how to get back, but I got to at least try! I mean how else will we be able to see our families again?!"

Ben didn't know if this alien guy had a family but he knew one thing they were both lost.

"But first things first" Ben turned to the alien guy. "I think we should find somewhere for you to rest so you can recover." Ben didn't bother asking how it happened to him as somehow in a way he was growing up more mentally due to this strange place called the omniverse.

[Roger Smith]

The enthusiasm of the child was a sharp contrast to what he had experienced thus far. And it put his mind ever so slightly more at ease. He was correct, of course. Even lost, and confused, and stranded in Gwyn knows where, a positive outlook and a little effort could still do wonders. Of course, that only barely registered beyond the fact that: "....yes....have to try..."

The mention of family sent a sharp pain through him that he couldn't place. The word meant something to him, but he couldn't recall what... He knew, vaguely, that the curse of the Undead could destroy a person's memories if they weren't careful, but he had always been careful. Always. But, there was something else that was messing with his mind, then. And that was not a comforting thought to ponder over.

The concept of rest made Artorias visibly sag against his blade, taking hold of the handle with both hands to remain standing upright, and he let out a simple hiss of agreement. For a handful of seconds, he remained standing there, sagging against his blade, before the scraps of his pride and what strength he had left came together and he forced himself upright, rising to stand as straight as he could.

Exhausted, wounded, lost and mentally unsteady as he was, he was a warrior and a Knight of the Lord of Sunlight. He wouldn't let himself falter and stagger around if he could help it.

Though he still leaned against his blade more heavily than he would have liked to remain standing. Pride was one thing, but he was exhausted and more than willing to just collapse and get what rest he could right where he was. But in the back of his mind, he somehow knew that would likely be a bad idea.

So instead, he turned his eyes to the distance, searching for anything that looked promising. And soon enough he found it, in the form of a clear path, leading to what he hoped was an inhabited village.

And with a grunt and nod of his head to point it out to the child, he started to slowly, but surely, limp toward it.

[Formerly Ben10]

Ben walked alongside the alien guy hoping to keep him safe from any harm as well as escort him into the village which he had pointed out earlier. Many people had mixed reactions when they saw the alien guy with Ben some were scared while others were worried. The scared ones of course hid while the worried ones while few in number came up to Ben and told him to run from the man he was with.

Ben wasn't scared of this guy he was trying to help him. "What are you all talking about?! I'm not running away from someone in need!" Ben had shocked most of the people then as they hid as well. As they came to a old rundown building though seemingly very large looked like it was falling apart but was just very old and kept together fine. Inside it was clear it was used as storage and a few hay bales were spread among the piles of hay often used to feed the cattle.

"I hope the locals don't mind us staying here. Then again they were a bit afraid of you for some reason so we probably won't see them until we leave."

Ben laid down on one of the hay bales as a temporary bed and tried to rest.

"Not very comfortable but it is better than sleeping outside. I hope this place is good enough for you to rest mister."

[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.

[Formerly Ben10]

Ben noticed the man as he collapsed to the ground. It was quite obvious now the man had been through a lot and sleeping needed for him but for Ben he felt he needed to guard the man at least until he got a good nights rest.
Not much had happened for the past few hours as it was starting to get late and Ben was starting to feel tired.
But then Ben heard the barn doors opening slowly as if someone else was there. Ben was on high alert now and much to his surprise the people who all hid had their weapons pointed at him and the person he was trying to protect.

They were shouting names and it was clear they came to kill them. "That's not going to happen on my watch! It's Hero Time!"

Ben selected the only option he had and that was HeatBlast and slammed the dial down as his body morphed into HeatBlast. The people were now even more scared but had there weapons at the ready.

"Time to heat things up!" Ben said as he threw small baseball sized fireballs at the weapons the villagers all had as they melted and became useless. The villagers all ran from said sight and hid again. "I guess they couldn't stand the heat." Ben chuckled to himself as he turned back to Ben then turned to the man as it neared morning as he appeared to be stirring or getting up. "Those village idiots won't bother you again."

[Roger Smith]

In his sleep, several things came back to him. Names, and fragmented bits of memory. It made things slightly more clear as to what was happening to him, or at least what had happened to him. It didn't shed any light on the current circumstances, but it left him slightly less confused as to his past.

He slept through the night, not even twitching at the disturbance of the harried villagers. Though as morning began to draw near, he finally stirred, curling into a ball unconsciously, the dull aches from the stress of his arrival re-asserting themselves on his waking mind with fresh vengeance. He groaned pitifully, but forced himself to awaken fully, rolling over to haltingly climb to a sitting posture.

His eyes still bleary from sleep, he gave a quick look around, seeing only the child and the otherwise empty building. A faint smell lingered upon the air, the smell of burning....something. It was familiar to him, but he couldn't place it exactly. Making an effort, he rose back to his feet again, laying one hand upon his sword, still jammed blade-first into the ground where he had left it when he collapsed into sleep the prior night.

It took an effort of will, but he turned to the boy, and managed to get a few words out. "You....have my thanks...for your aid."

[Inlumia]

As Inlumia rode towards the village with some of Darkshire's guards, he was a bit disturbed at the information he got.
An Undead wondered into the village with a boy who wouldn't leave it. When they went into an abandoned barn the villages waited a bit before trying to go in and destroy the Undead while rescuing the boy.
When they did that a creature formed of fire attacked them. They fled but their makeshift weapons were destroyed.

Given that and the nearness of the Portal, and Inlumia was getting a much different picture. He'd have to work hard if he didn't want a bloodbath, regardless of if these 2 were Good or Evil. Not only now, but also latter when the villagers try messing with people why shouldn't try without trained backup.

Arriving at the village, Inlumia told the captain, "I wish to speak with them. If I can stop blooshead, all the better?"
The villagers were a bit annoyed at that.
The local toughman said "Avoid bloodshead? With monsters?"
Inlumia faced him and said "As far as I know they have only defended themselves when passing through. I heard about the fire throwing one. It could have easily aimed for you, and not your weapons. I know I probably would have if you tried to murder me or a friend of mine in our sleep! Given out location and the direction they came from, they are probably Primes! This means if they are Evil and you kill them, they will respawn and destroy this village out of anger. If they are Good and you kill them, then they will respawn and destroy everyone involved in killing them just to stop you killing more travelers!"

The mutterings had changed now. No longer were they angry and bloodthirsty, but scared.
Once that settled in, Inlumia told the guards with him, "Do not come in unless I call for you, you hear fighting, or the boy somes out and says one specific word telling you it is safe to enter."
He leaded into the captian's ear and whispered "Betic"

He then got some bread, cheese, and a full water skin.

He went half of the distance from the parimiter to the barn and called out "Hello in the barn! I would like to speak with you in peace."

[Roger Smith]

At the boy's comment about heroes, Artorias merely let out a low, rumbling grunt. It was still difficult to keep his thoughts coherent. The night's rest had allowed him to collect some measure of his senses about him, but his head was still murky, muddled and slow to work. Even when the voice called out from outside the barn, it took every ounce of will he had not to rip his sword free from the ground and leap into an assault.

He managed not to, but the suddenness of the noise still made him whip his head about, lowering himself into a posture ready to leap into action, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade. But he made no other move, willing himself to remain still and calm. He was only partially succesful, and his breathing quickly grew erratic, as if something was trying to force him to attack again, though he managed to remain calm enough to eventually force himself back to ease, slumping against his blade, watching almost dumbly as the boy left the barn to address their 'guest'.

Of all the battles and wars he had waged against evil and the forces of the Abyss, the war inside his own head was more tiring than nearly any of them.

The clear part of his mind knew what it was: The Abyss. Manus's creeping grasp, even through death and unknowable distance, it still had a hold of him. And it was a strong grasp. All it would take was one good spark to set it off, and he would wind up just as he had been back in the white void.

A shiver ran through his entire body at the thought.

With an effort, he pushed back upright and slowly made his way to the doors of the barn. Clamping one hand around the edge for support, he leaned against it as he stepped half into the relative light of day outside. He took a long, slow look around at what he saw. A lone man, stood forward from a larger group of what looked like guards of some description, looking ready for anything. There were others who did not have the look of fighters about them among the group, and from some shadow of a memory buried in the shadows the Abyss poured over his mind, he recognized the scene before him.

And it made his fingers tighten involuntarily, clutching at the wood of the door until cracks spread out from around his armored mitts. He tried to focus on the words of the one speaking, to avoid dwelling on the less pleasant result letting himself get riled up would cause. And...the request was a sound one.

With an effort, he lifted his head, calling out as clearly as he could, "Very well... We have no desire for bloodshed....we will speak in peace." His voice was hoarse and faltered midway through, sounding as if he had recently tried to gargle a mouthful of sand, and he let out a sputtering cough as he finished the words, turning back to the interior of the barn.

[Roger Smith]

He staggered back into the barn, to one wall, and leaned against it with a heavy thunk of impact with the wood. Tired. He was still...so...so tired.... Even despite his sleep, his body still ached and pained him, his mind still slogged through a murky haze of confusion and extreme tiredness. He managed to limp back to his blade, still stuck into the ground, grasping it with one hand as he slowly slid down the wall, landing in more of a heap than sitting properly.

The mention of food, as the newcomer made his way into the barn earned a reaction from the knight, his head slowly turning as he made an effort of will to roll his body over, into a proper sitting posture. Food... It didn't register as it might have. He knew what it was, at least in some sense. It was what people ate to essentially fuel themselves and keep their bodies running. But there was something else that flickered in his mind. The Undead did not eat any longer.

They just...did not require food. Only the infrequent consumption of Estus, and more frequent rest at a Bonfire, to help maintain their Humanity. They could exist without even those, but they risked greatly accelerating their inevitable Hollowing, as they began to wear out, growing more physically and mentally exhausted, and simply coming unwound.

To such an end, Artorias let out a long, dry breath, his body suddenly recalling that it had been....years, at least, since even his last sip of Estus, and at least as long since his last proper rest near a well-maintained, properly-kept Bonfire. Partially free of the Abyss now as he was, no longer dominated by the suffocating will of Manus, no longer driven to madness and constantly ready to fight, seeking out things to crush, a perpetual high of adrenaline and magically-abusive fuel to keep him running....he just felt drained.

He suddenly longed to simply lay down before a Bonfire and rest, with precious Estus to restore his strength. But it was beyond him. He knew the proper rites to create a rudimentary Bonfire, and to collect Estus from its flickering flames, he had not the resources to do so.

He let out a sigh, willing his voice to work again. "I do not...require food." But he made an inclination of his head at the mention of breaking bread. The notion of its meaning still meant something to him, even if he could no longer actually take part in the act itself.

[Inlumia]

Inlumia was interested by their reactions to his arrival and offer of food.
He also noticed they had not made any attempt to fortify their position, limited as their options were.

The lad was cautious, which could be good or bad. Good if someone tried conning him, but given the situation it would be bad if he let it drive him into messing things up with paranoia.
Judging from his reactions, he was experianced in fighting, but not very patient. Rashness would probably be this one's trigger.
He did not kill the villagers, just their weapons. This showed he was restrained a bit. Either he had an image of what a hero should be like and was trying hard to follow it, or for him fighting others was a game. Possibly both. The first was good, but if he was narrow minded, it could be bad. The second could be bad as it would lead to him risking others just for fun. However, harnesed properly, it could be very useful in sending him against anyone Inlumia wanted removed. If both, just make sure he considered the target Evil.

The Knight was clearly Undead. His body showed that in life he had been a warrior and since necromancers normally let their undead use the weapons they were more familiar with, that sword was a good indication of how strong he was.
Carrying a weapon like that is not something mindless undead would do. No, this one had to be at least on par with a Death Knight.
Every Undead of that rank or over had a working mind, but mostly they were enslaved by the necromancer who raised them. Coming here probably freed the knight.

That worried Inlumia. Pulling someone out from being mind controlled by another risked screwing up that person's mind. Sometimes they could not face what they had to do and suffer from a major case of post traumatic stress disorder.
Considering Primes could summon Secondaries even when not planning to, having an extreamly powerful undead knight who was probably going to unleash all Hell on the local area the first time he goes nuts, not to mention probably going to try killing everyone, and Inlumia knew he made the right choice to try settling thing peacefully.

However the knight seemed exhausted. For undead that often meant emotionally, although a few types required nurishments of different kinds.
Then the knight spoke in a voice that sounded like it had been used infrequently and was they unfamiliar to the speaker himself "I do not...require food."
That the knight then acknowledged the term "break bread" was good news.

Still, Inlumia figured he could try to help the knight a bit. "I know much of the Undead in many worlds. Would you accept some as a burnt offering? As your guest, the laws of hospitality state I do not eat without my hosts, if possible. There are pleanty of leaves, twigs and other things here I can use."
Adding another layer of truce should help things along.

[Roger Smith]

Undead.

The word stirred something in him to hear it said aloud, even though he had passed over it many times in his thoughts. It called him back to his service under Lord Gwyn. Had he not been one of the highest ranking of the Knights of the Lord of Sunlight, he shuddered to think of what might have happened. Rarely had he the time to go on the frantic search many Undead had for Humanity to keep his mind about him. Only his iron-strong determination and adherance to his Lord's orders and his duty had kept his mind from unravelling like so many other Undead who had no Humanity to keep them in check.

But even so, that could not completely halt the process. His mind slowly, but surely, began to come apart at the seams, through sheer age as much as the inexorable crawl of an Undead's Hollowing. Countless ages passed, and the Fire began to die. Gwyn departed to repair it, but Artorias had already been too far gone to notice. He had gone to Oolacile, to fend off the encroach of Manus, Father of the Abyss, and finally his mind had come undone under the crashing waves of the Dark.

He had gone completely Hollow, and his unquenchable hunger for Souls and Humanity both, long held in check, burst forth unchecked. He became nearly as bad as the Dark he was possessed and corrupted by, given more strength than he had on his own, even as the stress broke his body and mind further.

The Chosen Undead killing him had been a mercy, all things considered.

Here and now, he was free of the crushing grip of Manus and the Abyss, but...his mind was still in tatters. Hollowing was not a process easily reversed, if it could be done at all, whether it had been forced upon one or not.

He shook his head slowly, the memories coming through to his mind in stunning clarity after so long muddling through even simple thoughts. But as soon as he tried to focus on them, to gain ground to find his other scattered memories, his mind went dark again, back into the murk of almost-Hollowing. He sighed deeply, seeming to sag even further into weariness, making a wordless grunt of acquiescence to the newcomer's request, giving a faint nod of his head as he did.

[Inlumia]

The reactions to his use of the word "Undead" were telling.
The lad may be used to monsters, but he had not suspected the knight was undead. This suggested the lad was used to the more science based "monsters" The fact he wasn't objecting outright indicated he knew magic existed and was familiar with it.

The knight, however, seemed to have a small fit, as if his mind was suddened barraged with knowledge he didn't want.
That was one of the things Inlumia had been worried out, and he tensed, preparing to fight. After it passed, Inlumia relaxed a bit.

Inlumia went all over the barn as he gathered up enough debris and junk to make a small fire. He was also familiarising himself with it incase a fight broke out.

After he had enough, he set up the pile in front of the knight and got a flint and steal set of strikers from his bag which was on Wildia. He also grabbed the food and drink.

Being very careful he got the fire going and then held out the bread to the lad, indicating he was to take some to eat. When he took it, Inlumia then broke off some and put in the fire as he said to the knight, "For you."
He then broke off some of the bread and ate it himself.

Afterwards he got the water skin and poured some water into his mouth without the container touching his lips.
He indicated the lad to copy him, and he did.
He then poured some onto the ground besides fire, but a bit lower, and said to the knight "For you."

After the fire had died out and the water soaked fully into the ground, Inlumia told the knight "I believe I know why your mind is all messed up, and I can help. But I need to get you away from from here. I don't want to risk innocent people."

[Roger Smith]

As the newcomer began to set about gathering debris from the barn to get a fire started, Artorias simply slumped back against the wall. He let his clouded and muddled mind wander as he simply sat in silence. And it was only when the first flicker of flame caught from sparks that he stirred. The fire stirred the rites of Kindling in his memory. And a wild idea began to form in his head.

Here, in a world where the stench of death and fear was worked into the very ground, if he had any sense at all about him, it just might be possible, especially with the strange rules of this place. The mysterious "Omnilium" that the strange, grinnind silhouette in the white void had spoke of came back to him, and he focused what little coherent thought he had onto one task.

Focusing on his knowledge of the Kindling rites, and the link between death, Hollowing, the Undead, Bonfires and the Flame, as well as what he had in mind, he reached out to the Omnilium within himself as well as he was able. In Lordran, working under the normal rules of the process, it would have been a miracle if something this improvised would have worked at all. But here, it did.

Slowly, a crystalline flask of green glass formed into being in his hand. It took him nearly until the small fire had died out, but he managed to scrape together the healing essence of Estus from the embers. And he downed the faintly-glowing orange liquid in one long, slow pull. He slumped back against the wall as he finished, letting out a long, slow breath.

The healing and instant near-regenerative powers of the Estus had failed to come through. He had been expecting that. It did him little more good than a hearty meal might have done a living man, but in his current state, that was still a great deal of good, indeed.

As the fire died out completely, the other man spoke up again. And Artorias slowly sat upright, letting out a rumbling noise of agreement. "I have no desire to bring harm." The offer of help was unexpected, but he was grateful for it.