Dark Souls

"Praise the sun!"

"Yet another stands before us... Then so be it. For the curse of life, is the curse of want. And so, you peer... Into the fog, in hope of answers."

"Hmm... You are astonishing. The truth I shall share, without sentiment. After the advent of Fire, the ancient Lords found the three souls. But your progenitor found a fourth, unique soul. The Dark Soul. Your ancestor claimed the Dark Soul, and waited for Fire to subside. And soon, the flames did fade, and only Dark remained. Thus began the age of men, the Age of Dark. However... Lord Gwyn trembled at the Dark. Clinging to his Age of Fire, and in dire fear of humans, and the Dark Lord who would one day be born amongst them, Lord Gwyn resisted the course of nature. By sacrificing himself to link the Fire, and commanding his children to shepherd the humans, Gwyn has blurred your past, to prevent the birth of the Dark Lord. I am the primordial serpent. I seek to right the wrongs of the past, to discover our true Lord. But the other serpent, Frampt, lost his sense, and befriended Lord Gwyn. Undead Warrior, we stand at a crossroads. Only I know the truth about your fate. You must destroy the fading Lord Gwyn, who has coddled Fire and resisted nature, and become the Fourth Lord, so that you may usher in an Age of Dark."

"I am the primordial serpent Darkstalker Kaathe. I can guide thee, and illuminate the truth. Undead Warrior, conqueror of the Four Kings; is this not your wish? To know the truth of men, and the Undead?"

"You fool. You could not be the chosen one."

"Oh, hello there. I will stay behind, to gaze at the sun. The sun is a wondrous body. Like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent!"

"We are amidst strange beings, in a strange land. The flow of time itself is convoluted; with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. There's no telling how much longer your world and mine will remain in contact. But, use this, to summon one another as spirits, cross the gaps between the worlds, and engage in jolly co-operation!"

"I'm not up for chatting. Leave me alone."

"I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent to the Lord of Sunlight. Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun!"

"What's wrong? Get a bit of scare out there? No problem. Have a seat and get comfortable. We'll both be Hollow before you know it. Hah hah hah hah... Well, what are you going to do? I've already decided. I don't really care; I'm simply crestfallen..."

"In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was Fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark. But at some point the First Fire appeared, and with fire came difference. Heat and cold, life and death, light and dark. Then from the dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten. With the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The Witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more. Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign. Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world... This is your fate."

"You Defeated."

"Well, what do we have here? You must be a new arrival. Let me guess. Fate of the Undead, right? Well, you're not the first. But there's no salvation here. You'd have done better to rot in the Undead Asylum... But, too late now."

"Ah... Is this the blood? The blood of the dark soul...?"

"My thanks, Ashen One. With this I will paint a world. Please tell me thy name. I would name this painting after thee. [I have no name] I see. We are much alike. Then I will name this painting "Ash". Twill be a cold, dark, and very gentle place...And one day, it will make someone a goodly home. I wonder when Uncle Gael intends his return? I hope the new painting will be to him a gentle home."

"Patches never lost heart and never looked back. He marched in on direction, and that direction was dead ahead. Did you see him passing by?"

"Greatsword of Slave Knight Gael, the only weapon he kept with him from beginning to end. Originally an executioner's sword meant for decapitation, this blade is heavily chipped and stained with the blood of countless battles."

"Legendary dragon weapon associated with Seath the paledrake. Charge strong attack to its limit to unleash moonlight wave. Oceiros, the Consumed King, was infatuated with the search for moonlight, but in the end, it never revealed itself to him."

"A memory of an old sword found deep within Midir. This sorcery uses souls to grant form to the thought, and attacks with it. Attacks are coupled with lightwaves, and sustaining the stance before attacking increases their speed and potency. The sword is named after moonlight, but it is slightly different than the one fashioned of the paledrake Seath. Perhaps it is rooted in an older memory, from not long after the Beginning."

"Prince Lothric's straight sword, blessed by Emma with potent magic. Young Lothric was meant to be a champion, and was expected to wield this platinum sword, but some things will remain distant dreams forever."

"Yes, indeed. It is called Lothric, where the transitory lands of the Lords of Cinder converge. In venturing north, the pilgrims discover the truth of the old words: "The Fire fades, and the Lords go without thrones". When the link of Fire is threatened, the bell tolls, unearthing the old Lords of Cinder from their graves. Aldrich, Saint of the Deep. Farron's Undead Legion, the Abyss Watchers. And the reclusive Lord of the Profaned Capital, Yhorm the Giant... Only, in truth, the Lords will abandon their thrones. And the Unkindled will rise. Nameless, accursed Undead, unfit even to be cinder. And so it is, that Ash seeketh Embers..."

"Yhorm, old friend. I, Siegward of the Knights of Catarina, have come to uphold my promise! Let the sun shine upon this Lord of Cinder."

"Oh dear, another dogged contender. Welcome, Unkindled One, purloiner of Cinders. Mind you, the mantle of Lord interests me none. The fire linking curse, the legacy of lords, let it all fade into nothing. You've done quite enough, now have your rest."

"This spot marks our grave, but you may rest here too, if you would like."

"Mark my words, Ashen One... You remain... Among the Accursed..."

"Noble Lords of Cinder. The fire fades... And the lords go without thrones. Surrender your fires... to the true heir. Let him/her grant death... To the old gods of Lordran, deliverers of the First Flame."

"Well, you look to be Unkindled. No bell tolls, and yet you've slipped into the painting? Ah, no matter. If you've lost your way, the words of Lady Friede will guide you. Now, go on inside, show respect, and listen carefully."

"There is one thing you should know. Inside the cold painting, curiosity could be your cross. Stray from the withering flame, and the snow will swallow you whole..."

"I've seen your kind, time and time again. Every fleeing man must be caught. Every secret must be unearthed. Such is the conceit of the self-proclaimed seeker of truth. But in the end, you lack the stomach. For the agony you'll bring upon yourself."

"Every age, it seems, is tainted by the greed of man. Rubbish for one such as I, devoid of all worldly wants! ...I dunno. Maybe it's just the way we are. I'll stick you in my prayers. A fine Dark Soul to you."

"Oh Filianore, help me, please...The Red-Hood is come to eat us... to eat our dark souls..."

"What, still here?... Hand it over. That thing. Your dark soul... For my lady's painting."

"Perhaps you've seen it, maybe in a dream. A murky, forgotten land. A place where souls may mend your ailing mind. You will lose everything, once branded. The symbol of the curse. An augur of darkness. Your past, your future, your very light. None will have meaning and you won't even care. By then you'll be something other than human. A thing that feeds on souls. A hollow."

"There is no path."

"I lost everything, but remained here, patiently."

"Many monarchs have come and gone."

"Life is brilliant. Beautiful."

"One day, fire will fade, and Dark will become a curse."

"This ring is the symbol of the King."

"Bearer of the curse"

"Like a moth drawn to a flame, your wings will burn in anguish. Time after time. For that is your fate. The fate of the cursed."

"Long ago, in a walled off land, far to the north, a great king built a great kingdom. I believe they called it Drangleic. Perhaps you're familiar. No, how could you be. But one day, you will stand before its decrepit gate. Without really knowing why..."