This is the fifth installment in a series that acts as commentary of my play-through of Dark Souls 2, and is told through the eyes of the Brave Undead in the form of journal entries. You can read the previous installment here, or start at the beginning if this is your first look.
This series may contain spoilers.
As strong and confident as I feel after slaying the Giant, something inside me seems to not want to press on. Naturally, it could be fear. Fear of another death. None of them have been painless, and I haven’t forgotten how they’ve all felt. Perhaps it is fear of a foe even stronger than the ones I’ve faced. I imagine that the Great Ones – the Ancient Ones, the Old Ones, whatever people decide to call them – will be incredibly powerful, but now that I’ve faced the likes of the Giant and the bulky knight, it’s hard to fathom anything more fierce. I’ve fallen thrice already to the bulky knight. His strikes are powerful, he floats with a grace unlike anything his size, and he’s quick to destroy the ballista that could make easy work of him. Something tells me that I will not escape him if I do not manage to kill him. He will only continue to hunt me.
If I’m quick, I should be able to make it to a ballista in time to wound him. I’ll have to bait him to the far side of the arena and wait for an opening.
The knight is no more. After falling to him several more times, I finally managed to impale him with the ballista. I received his souls, and was carried by a giant bird far off to what looks like an enormous prison. This place is dark, and full of death and memory. I can’t imagine what kind of evil things have taken place here. There are towers far above, and a dark sea far below. The moon is the only source of light, and the only routes I can see are along the wall of the structure. If I’m not careful, I could easily fall or be pushed off. There may be a way inside, but for now this is the path I’ll have to take.
I met a woman not too far from the first bonfire here. She was reluctant to speak at first, but I managed to raise her interest. She called herself Lucatiel. She claimed to be a high-ranking swordsman from the land of Mirrah. She said she was traveling through Drangleic for its dangers. Perhaps our paths will cross again soon.
To my left is a blacksmith, but he seems to have lost his mind. He only blabbers about an ember, and nothing more. He’s useless to me for the moment, but besides Lucatiel, he’s also the only thing that hasn’t tried to kill me thus far. Large guardians wrapped in cloth wield scythes and magic, and there have been several menacing, half-rotten dogs. There is a gate on the other side of the crumbled wall in front of me, but the contraption that opens it is on the other side. If I’m right, I must go back the way I came until I come to an extremely small crossing from this wall to the next. From there it looks like I’ll be able to enter the prison itself. Out here the path is narrow and in several places there is the danger of falling to the sea below. But inside may hold a claustrophobic labyrinth full of enemies.
After crossing over to the next wall, I entered a door that led into a room with a couple of paths. One path immediately to the left that rounded a corner farther down, and a small set of stairs in front of me leading down to a room below me and then even farther down. I didn’t really have time to go anywhere at all because I was overwhelmed by soldiers not long after I stepped into the room. I think I counted five of them. Three came from the left, and two came from below. There was no way to find an opening to attack, and I was forced to retreat back out the door. There on the narrow path I was able to take them one at a time, but I became too greedy with my attacks. I left myself open and before I knew it I was dead and back at the blacksmith’s bonfire. This time I’ve managed to take them all down by luring the two on the lower level to me before getting the other three’s attention. Now I must decide if I want to take the path to the left or go deeper into this dungeon.
I took the stairs down to a room where there was a soldier guarding a ladder. I’ve climbed the ladder and found myself on the other side of a gate. Once again, the contraption to open it is on the other side. Something tells me I’ve found a short cut, and the path to the left of the entrance to this place would have taken me that way and I would have ended up here anyway. Ahead, though, is a long and narrow hallway. Prison cells have been crudely carved into both sides of the hall, some open and some still shut. The remains of some of the poor bastards shut away here still lie in the cells. Were these criminals so terrible that their bodies didn’t deserve to leave their cage and at least be burned or thrown into the sea – a prisoner’s funeral? At the end of the hall is a fog door. That has seldom been a good sign. Either it only seals off an area that leads deeper into the dungeons, or there is something terrible and strong behind it that guards the way.
My sword seems to be dull, and I am almost out of Estus. I estimate only two drinks left of it, and then I’ll have to rely on these peculiar gems. The gems seem to restore my body, but they are rare and I can eventually run out. I can’t risk going forward this unprepared and ill-equipped. I must travel back to the bonfire. It will heal my wounds and refill my Estus flask, and even strengthen my blade again. I know this area well enough now that I should make it back to this spot without much trouble.
End of Entry