I wanted to do something like this with my adventure in the first Dark Souls, but I was already in NG++ by the time I had the idea. I wanted the material to be fresh and real, and I had already forgotten most of my incidents and mishaps of my first playthrough. I’m very early in my playthrough of Dark Souls 2, and I want to give this a shot. What this series will be, is a playthrough of Dark Souls 2 through the eyes of the Brave Undead. As I play, I will share my actions and thoughts through journal entries meant to be written by my character. Also, after the first few entries, I’m hoping to make this half story – half wiki with some links and information on any locations, enemies, items, etc. that I mention in the story.
Please enjoy Journal of The Brave Undead.
What a view. Ahead of me and a little to my right is a shrine, whose relevance seems to be long forgotten. A man sits at its base. He seems like everyone else here: lost and hopeless. Given up. Behind me is the place I came from, plus a couple of paths that lead to who-knows-where. But directly in front of me, that is the wonder. The cliff overlooks an endless sea, with the unmoving, yet setting sun beaming over the horizon. The view is accompanied by the warmth of a small flame.
This Bonfire is the first touch of comfort since I arrived in Drangleic. Somehow it touches more than just my skin. It seems to move something within me. Possibly my soul. So many have mentioned souls already. Those hags, the Firekeepers, said I would lose mine. The woman in the hood staring out at the sea said I should “seek larger, more powerful” ones. The hopeless man by the shrine said having one IS the curse.
This place – Majula, they call it – is populated by those at the end of their rope. The armor merchant, Maughlin, is down on his luck. The blacksmith, Lenigrast, is locked out of his work area, and the hopeless man has all but given up. Shalquoir, the talking cat, seems to be content to just lie around and enjoy the smell of Undead ones. Whether she herself is undead or not, I don’t know. The only one here with any glimmer of hope in her voice is the hooded lady, whom they call the Emerald Herald. Unlike the Firekeepers, she encourages my journey.
Such doubt, those Firekeepers. When I arrived, they knew exactly why I had come. I imagine they’ve been visited by one Undead after another just like me. They even poked fun at me, said my quest was hopeless. They assured me that I would fail. The curse brought me here, but I will not end up sitting, like that man, waiting for someone to come along or waiting for my memories to fade and my soul to decay. If my fate lies in this forsaken land, it will not end in becoming Hollow. To wonder aimlessly about, preying on others in search of souls… No.
It’s time I looked for a way to restore, and keep, my humanity.
End of Entry