Duties

Time has long continued while the dame dossed in her peaceful sleep as the Unkindled stood guard. Until then, the dame had awoken and had her mana replenished after her undisturbed slumber allowed by the Undead. Now, with the use of it, she enchanted sacred words of miracle upon herself, allowing her injuries to heal upon so. Fortunately, her light white blouse had only but a slice cut, and with the exposure of it, showed her snow cream skin. However, due to the use of white bondage that was used to patch onto her wound; concealed it.

With her equipment all suited and geared, she came to turn to the Unkindled, only to have his back faced towards her, paying her of no attention or mind. The noise of her armor clanking, accompanied by the march of heavy stomps of her boots on the clear ground without an ounce drop of snow, the Unkindled gave a fair warning. "The land is in the midst of great danger, I prithee' that thy would be wary upon one's own journey."

Without much of fraternization, they made haste to do their own bidding. As one is bound by duty, as it is one's solitary affair. Long had it been, the Ashen One had came upon an abandoned church with it, of course; sullied. Objects were tossed and chairs laid broken about the place. Another the Undead had stumbled upon, was Anri of Astora. As the Unkindled had taken notice of her, so did by his presence by the Astorian.

"Oh, I thought it might be you.

Good to see you.

I never managed to find Horace...

But my duty must be done, even alone.

As an unkindled Lordseeker.

For the children I knew, bless their souls.

We all have our reasons, don't we?"

The masked male Unkindled agreed in silence, pulling his eyes away to spot any hostiles. A gentle gaze was then felt, coming from the Astorian knight. In mere second that had slipped by, she sighed and spoke in admiration, as well as inspiration.

"Ahh, you are brave indeed.

To face your duty alone.

I would do well to learn from you."

An urging sickening feeling crawled its way to every part of the Undead's skin upon the hearing of her words. He felt queasy upon so, causing him to lose his usual-composed act. The sudden change of the body's language caused the dame to pose a question of worry. "Are you alright?" In an audible volume, he replied, a certainty that it was meant for him and not towards the female knight that began to feel nervous as he continued to act as he did. "The pilgrim.."

A faint gasp presented itself, as well as announcing the presence of another. The Farron Greatsword that he wielded in hand; burnt ablaze. The hasten steps of leather boot thuds upon the church's floor echoed, with the roaring flames that has taken the shape of the great sword of Farron, wielded by a immensely enraged Hunter.

The pilgrim in disguised was instantly slain, with last words as, "Lady.. Yuria.." the lying corpse of a servant of the hollows of Anor Londo stayed still. The ragged pants of anger fueled the Hunter, with unknown odds of images of a dead dame. A cautious yet gentle hands laid on his broad shoulder, he came to ease when seeing upon of whose hands it belonged, and it belonged to none other than Anri of Astora.

Both of the Unkindles had their fair share of talk, how the dead pilgrim was familiar, and was whom who told her earlier in her travels while her hushed companion was once by her side. What was based at the end of their discussion, was the plot made by Yuria of Londor. About her schemes and plans, subtly told when the Ashen One had held conversation with her. All were said, however the Unkindled left out the disturbing images of Anri's stilled and cold body upon an altar, with only a handkerchief laid to cover the face.

The dame bid farewell and continued on with her quest to seek out the Lord of Cinder; Aldrich. Left to himself, he returned to the Firelink and upon so had no signs of Yuria. Later on, the Fire Keeper had told the Unkindle that the woman of black had left in a displeased state. The Undead cared little for how he is now perceived as, but that mattered not. He was pleased at the thought that an acquaintance lived and breathe still.

His return to Irithyll, in the disordered and un-kept church of Yorshka, he journeyed about the area, stumbling upon creatures of hiding in such plain sights, and attacking when the least expected. Through the obstacles of plenty, he had finally about reached the cathedral, assumed to where the Pontiff Sulyvahn reside.

Loud crashing of great swords swept and smashed itself upon the floor, reaching for the death of an Unkindle. The Astorian knight predicted through a glance of an upcoming attack, in which she would not been able to evade. But, to the infuriated Pontiff, an assisting hands of a brave Undead, they shall prevail. Greatsword against another of its kind, with almost of the very same length and size it went against each other, rescuing the dame from a certain devastating blow.

Finally, upon blood, sweat and intense effort, the two seeker of lords had defeated the tyrant. The soul of the Pontiff was for the knight of Astora to take, however she instead insisted that the Unkindle should have it instead. Though it was not due to being humble, or as ignorant, the Undead hunter merely took a moment of silence before gradually accepting in kind. "I have no interest to hold immense power, but you." and, if had her helmet not been there to conceal what lies beneath, it was a certain that she had a kind and warm-ful smile placed.

The Unkindle return once more to the sanctuary; Firelink Shrine. With the soul he had obtained as a gift from another fellow Unkindle, he went about near one of the five thrones, to pay a visit to one who sat idly upon his own. "Ah, has thou'art find any of twisted soul today?"

With so, the Transposing Kiln transformed the very soul of the Pontiff to a Greatsword of Judgement. A fine name indeed the Unkindled fancy upon his newly acquired Greatsword to be of used.