EFUSouls: Prepare to Die

[Gotham]

[hide="Prologue: Welcome to Die, Wizardman"]
I am Adotlin. Adotlin of Vinheim. And I am a cursed man, living in a cursed age.



I lift my quill, my old lifelong companion, and press ink to paper, paper to binding, binding to book that a record of my story may exist, for whomever or whatever may find it.

I cannot say for certain if you are human or not, from the far flung past from myself, or the distant murkey future which may yet be shaped by my actions. I cannot say from day to day where or when even I am. All I can know is that it is the age of Twilight, if that has any meaning to you, in the reality or time in which you dwell. The living 'Gods' - as people called them - who shaped our world and ushered in the Age of Fire, the time of brightness which kept the fog of undeterminance at bay. And now that age is coming to a close. And the world as we knew it, as humanity understands it, is ending. The fires are dying. And the Fog draws ever closer.

As we students of the dragon school - masters of the soul and wielders of the magical arts we stole from the smoking claws of the slain dragons of the primordial age - understand it, the world was born in darkness and murky fog. Then, the so called Gods - Gwyn, Nito, Izalith, and their manifest subordinates - created fire, and light, and gave shape to an indistinct world. They beat back the primordial creatures, the Dragons and other shapeless horrors, and lit the first bonfires which kept the Fog of the undeterminant away. Beneath these 'divine' patrons, humanity thrives (I have my own thoughts on whether or not these beings were divine, but that is a matter to be discussed later)

And all was well for a time, though these 'Gods' ruled humanity, and we flourished.

If I go on about matters you already know well, please understand I apologize, but I must plan for the contingency that you do not. Nothing is certain or fixed anymore in this world, and I cannot tell where or when this verse will show up. Or if it ever existed at all.

For you see, the world as we understand it is ending. Reality unravels. Everything becomes unfixed, undetermined.

We, the peerless mages of the Dragon School of Vinheim, noticed first. Subtle changes. Stars moving in the sky, the silence of Lordran, distortions of time and space - and of course, the appearance of the accursed Darksign and the undead. The clerics of the way of the white, peerless blind leading the blind that they are, did their best to silence us on this matter. Who can say if something could've been done in those early days, before undeath spread and misery grew. Likely as not, but we'll never know now, except perhaps in other worlds where events took a parallell, but distinct path.

Sufficed to say, matters only grew worse. The Undead, long fortold sign of the end of days began to appear.

Undead - does this have meaning to you? Do you know what it is? I am an expert in these matters, for you see, I myself am undead.

As a thing lives, it grows a soul. The greater the life, the greater the soul. As a thing dies, it's soul is released into the timeless etherium, it's energies comingle with all creation. But not the Undead. It's soul energy will not release. It persists. A slain corpse will rise again, dried, rotting, but 'alive'. Through infusion of a sprite of humanity, they can even once again mimic their living form. The undead are utterly unkillable, and anything that dies around them has it's soul drained unto the Undead itself. Living siphons of power. The Clerics of the Way of White, who in their ignorance believe the Soul is an aspect of consciousness and joins the Lords Divine when a person dies, see the Undead as an anathema to all existance and the only undead they permit are those that serve them as fire-keepers, using their eternal lives to fuel the bonfires. Though they are not entirely wrong in their supposition that Undeath represents a danger to the world and it's balance, their fanaticism drives them to treat all undead that do not submit to this eternal servitude, this eternal undying death, with great cruelty.

So it was with me. One day, I simply died - tripped and fell down the stairs in the librarium, if I recall, and broke my neck. There was an appropriate amount of mourning and my body was carried off by the corpse-tollers to be buried.

Then I woke up, with the bright red band of the Darksign burning on the palm of my left hand. At that point I was no-one in Vinheim - never mind how I had risen through the ranks to a respectible posistion as assistant clerk to a Senior Magisters apprentice, all from a lowely street dwelling guttersnipe. Never mind my theories and postulations on reality fragmenting and the possibilities of parallel worlds. In undeath I was stricken from the record, and carried off screaming to the far north, to be imprisoned in the Undead Asylum - that place they throw the unkillable so they can forget about them.

And there I languished. For how long? I don't know. Time long since ceased to flow with any regularity. And even if it had, it would've been meaningless - as undead, I had no end, no shortage of time to waste. I needed no sustenance, required no water - I simply languished out of sight and out of mind, for days, weeks, years, perhaps even decades or centuries.



And then, when conscious thought ceased to have meaning, things truly began.

OOC Notes: Most comments will be IC. OOC comments to help explain matters, will be in italics.

See the Dark Souls Intro Movie Here[/hide]

[hide="Chapter 1: The Asylum - IN PROGRESS"]



My indeterminant fugue was interrupted by a crash. Far above my head, rusted bars that covered my cells only skylight were bashed in, and a corpse had been dumped through the hole into my cell. Above it on the roof, a knight in armor peered down at me, his expression masked by his visor. And then he was gone. For several long minutes - hours? - I stared at the corpse, interloper into the familiar domain of my cell, until at length I did what any curious prison rat would have done. I pillaged his body for shiny things. Stuffed within the mouth of the corpse, behind feotid rotted teeth, as a key. A cell key. My long slumbering heart skipped a beat, and with trembling hands I tried it upon the lock to my door and heard an audible click. And it was with awe I realized I was free.



I stumbled down the dank hallway, past the cells of other less fortunates, who trembled in corners or clawed at their eyes. They had been there long before my own arrival, and the ceaseless monotony had long since obliterated their senses. Who knows, perhaps it did mine as well, and all this is simply the fever dream of a mind unmoored from reality. Never the less, I THINK I am free, which is more than I can say I had thought before.



I wandered down the hall, passing the decrepit, and the shadows of massive lurking horrors patrolling the darkness of the Asylum just behind the bars. I crawled my way out of that hell, clambering over rats and stone, until at last I entered the courtyard.



Along the way I became aware of two things. First, the scent of fresh air, and second, the glowing orange scrawl that stung my eyes and clung to surfaces. Bizzare messages with strange runes and allusions I did not understand. I felt they were trying to communicate something, but I could not fully discern what.



It was only then, mulling over what "HP" could possibly stand for, that I realized I was standing in the Asylums Courtyard. This had been the last glimps of the sun I had ever had when they had dragged my broken body into the depths. And now I stood here once more, and all seemed the worse for the wear. The Bonfires were unlit, and I had seen demons roaming in the darkness.



Approaching the courtyard bonfire, I struggled to recall half remembered ritual - words and hand gestures sacred to the way of the white, prayers meant to invoke the fires protection and rekindle the flame. Usually, relighting a bonfire required the sacrifice of a human life, and the roaring flames would be kindled on the bones of martyrs. But I was undead, and I could not die. In truth, it was more instinct than anything else that moved me in those moments, my mind still shuddering to awaken into this strange, nightmarish landscape.

To my suprise, it lit beneath my hand, and a small ember licked up over the faded white bones of the last Martyr. It seemed I had soul left enough to kindle and survive. How that could be possible after my long imprisonment, I didn't know.

For a long time I just say there, staring at the licking flames, warming my hands. My mind, sluggish from it's long torpor, slowly began to awaken, and I examined my surroundings. The Asylum had been in disrepair when I arrived, and now it was in utter ruin. The guards were missing, the bonfires were unlit, and I could have sworn I saw a demon roaming in the dark just out of reach. It was clear they had abandoned us. For how long, I couldn't tell. But if there were no guards, that meant escape might be possible. Lacking any other clear path, I gathered myself and made for the Pilgrims hall.

I braced myself against the massive double doors and heaved. Rusted and decrepid, the ancient gateway was stubborn to move, and only gave way with great complaint, but after much grunting and pushing I pushed the doors open enough to slip through. Pilgrims Hall had been the chapel, where the guards had their services and Undead who "recanted" were permitted to become Flamekeepers. For the rest of us, it was a mystery. Able to see it now, I was unimpressed - a stark stone chamber, lined with urns. I suppose once it might have had more furnishment, but they would've been looted by the departing guards. Knowing that, I crossed the hall. And that is when the demon came crashing through the roof.



[SIZE="1"]Asylum Demon is the first boss in the game and really, the first enemy (you can attack the other hollows in the prison hall, but they don't respond until you attack first and are easy to kill). Suitably for Dark Souls, you can't actually beat the Asylum Demon unless you know how to 'game the system'. The design is intended to force you to run, though you can actually beat him without getting your equipment first if you know how.[/SIZE]

At the time, I can't remember how I reacted. I think it was most likely a wet, girlish squeal. I distinctly remembering running like a chicken deprived of it's head, wheeling fruitless circles about the hall as it stopped after me and swung it's massive hammer, smashing the floor and pillars alike in it's path.



It's hammer clipped me on a swing, and sent me tumbling across the chamber into a wall. It was from there I noticed a small exit passage on the left hand side of the chamber, and calling upon reflexes I had not used since my days running through the slums of Vinheim I heaved myself to my feet and dove, tumbled, and rolled through the passage, yanking the portcullis down behind me and scrambling into the darkness and safety of the passage.

Outside, the demon roared in impotent rage, as I huddled infront of another bonfire I had found, weeping, for how long I cannot remember. Eventually my nerve returned to me, and I pressed on.

Only to encounter another danger. Scrawled on the wall in orange soapstone was a warning - "Get your shield!". What could that mean, I wondered. Then the arrow went wizzing past my head, and like a frightened rabbit I bolted for cover. Down the hall, another undead - fully hollow, by the look of him - armed with a bow was drawing another shot. I crouched over the corpse of a less fortunate predecessor, who was clutching an old weathered leather buckler. Siezing the shield as my only means of safety, I braced it on my arm and charged down the hallway towards the archer, screaming like a lunatic. I felt my arm jolt as it fired an arrow which rebounded off my sheild with a thunk. Seeing I was thusly protected, the hollow turned to run, and I gave chase.

As I scrambled after him, I nearly tripped over another corpse. This one clutched a knife. I seized it in my hand, and memories of razer duels in the back alleys of Vinheim came flooding back to me. I lurched after the archer and cornered him in a passage, where I circled around behind him as he clumsily tried to fire another shot.



I jammed my blade into the small of his back, jerked upwards and gave a vicious twist before kicking him off. Dark thick blood sprayed from the wound, and the thing twitched and gurgled before expiring. For the moment, anyway. It seemed to be another undead like myself, and there was no telling how long it would stay down. I tried to push the vicious horror of what had just happened out of my head and pressed on, unaware that this was just one in what was to be a very long line of knifings.
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[/hide]

[The Old Hack]

Fighter. Definitely fighter. In his Terminator armour he stands firm against the alien invaders and looks to the Emperor, secure in his faith that Earth shall stand against the Xeno scourge and the heretics.

[Adhesive]

Barbarian, crush up to being able to wield the Zweihander in two hands. PG like a boss.

We're all scum, may as well give in.

[Gotham]

So vote in the survey

[Gotham]

I've already got a Knight Waifu so come on undeads vote me up something besides a tank

[RuinedDesires]

barbarian crush? Please, prepare to die edition is all about the magic. Wizard all the way, combined with dex later on for faster casting and maybe even throwing in a washing pole, GG son,

[Ironside]

Real men play Dark Souls with a raw weapon and nothing but str and end.  Go-go fighter!

[Gotham]

How Each Class Will Work:

Fighter: Medium - Heavy armor, All Shields, no magic, heavier weapons (2/1 handed)

Paladin: Medium - Heavy armor, All Shields, Miracles, heavier weapons (2/1 handed)

Rogue: Light armor, small shields only, light weapons/bows, may use pyromancy opportunistically, uses poisons

Bard: Light Armor, Medium Shields, Light weapons/bows, Some sorcery

Barbarian: Light Armor, Medium Shields, heavier weapons (2 handed), may use pyromancy opportunistically (basically just the Power Within spell that boosts attack and defense but drains health)

Ranger: light armor, Medium Shields, Light Weapons/Bows, some Pyromancy

Wizard: lightest armor (robes/cloths), light shields, catalysts, Sorcery

Sorcerer: Lightest armor (robes/cloths), Light Shields, Light weapons, Pyromancy

Cleric: Medium - Heavy armor, Medium Shields, Blunt weapons ONLY, Miracles

Druid: Light Armor (nothing principly metal), no metal shields, no metal weapons, Pyromancy and Miracles

I intend to try and roleplay whatever class is chosen, to EFU customs.

[Gotham]

Wizard suddenly came from behind and is in the lead

[Aethereal]

A wizard who is a sorcerer, it's just too good to pass on.

Go play it already and show us what Dark Souls is about.

[Pool]

Knight. Dat health.

Buy yourself some phatass armor.

[RuinedDesires]

I hope you either A stream this, or B Record it!!!

[el groso]

Barbarian any time any day.

[Gotham]

I hope you either A stream this, or B Record it!!!

Fraps is being a tit on me, so I don't think I could record it.

Plus, recording high quality video? Shit that sucks up alooottt of memory fast. But I could try it I guess if I played slow... and restarted >_>

[Corrigo]

this topic confuses me to no end