It is truely a blessing to know that my story has at the least entertained you, though I hope that eventually it will be seen by many more, but you here, who have supported me from the begining of my journey, I thank the most.
Her signature shown far more brightly than the others, a glorious golden glow. As I began to reach out for it; a strange and familiar tingle came over me… Mere inches from touching her signature I stopped and retracted my hand. I He turned, walking out of the room briefly. Something was amiss. I could feel it. A few things seemed out of place; hollows that would have been further up his path lay dead. Holding my club firmly a voice came from my left; slowly walking up the stairs from where the ambush had been when he last passed.
“The field has been cleansed of interruptions.”
The opening in the waterway lead me to a very narrow corridor, with a long set of stairs leading to an open area above. With my shield held high I peeked out of the hole. Two hollowed scouts peered at me. One with an Axe the other a sword and shield They were no different than those I had previously dispatched and were quickly felled. I noticed barrels in a corner, seeming to block a poorly hidden path. Upon my approach I was ambushed from my left, a fire bomb had been thrown toward me. Had I not seen the hollow from my peripheral vision I may very well have been set ablaze. I jumped back quickly, the bomb exploding mere feet away. I ran upon him jumping into the air, my club came down upon his head and he too fell. Before moving on I saw a door to my left, perhaps it had been a store room at some point, I decided to have a look within; perhaps some manner of goods still remained. I was met with another hollow. He held out his broken shield and blocked my first strike then lunged at me. My foe was slow however and I sidestepped an attacked his rib cage, two strokes and he fell to the ground. My exploration was for naught it would seem. My only reward was the soul of my enemy, most likely a guard who still kept a ghostly watch over his charge. Exiting the abandoned storeroom, I saw another door before me.
At present, I felt little more than anticipation for what lay ahead. Though my foes grew ever nearer every fiber of my being was hungry. Hungry for the souls held within, hungry for more humanity, hungry to make me greater than I ever could have been. I was jovial to be true. As I reached the top of the stairs I Sept, still excited by the thought of my flesh renewed. This was foolish. As I was airborne, I noticed that I was still upon the edge of a sheer cliff. I landed and rolled, skidding to a stop just at the brink. I looked down. The chasm seemed to go on forever. I shudder at the thought that what I had just regained could have been lost due to my recklessness. My enemies have taken note as I stand. Their bodies much more frail than mine; even before I had been rejuvenated.
But, my brothers and sisters in arms, I can not complete this quest alone, I will require the aids of your astral forms…. Should I learn the ability, I will do as much in return. Lend me your strength brethren.
I stood by the bonfire, as the knight? I believe him to be a sort of knight, stared blankly at both me and the fire. The grass an stone beneath my feet were comforting. The simple presence of foliage around me was comforting, as well as the sight of another human being… well a human I say…but it remained to be seen. The fire was located in the center of what I would assume was some manner of forum, though long since abandoned.
I would like to implore any undead out there, who finds themself reaing this… that hey may attempt to seek my audience and counsil. I will reply in kind to the best of my ability. Lordran is a rather unsetteling place… and through these fires…while close to them I see you standing, and sitting. I would reach out and touch you… but I wonder if there is perhaps some way that we may communicate through this? I await your inquiry.
I would like to remember… where I come from. Home I suppose. Though I know I am from the west, images of home escape me. I would so love to see it. Just to know.
My name; lost to both myself and time. Identity however, remains. I was and forever will be The Golem of the West. I remember little of my life before the Asylum, I remember war. I remember not battles, but the idea of war. I know not if it was the code I lived by, or the life I lived. I know only that I was enveloped in conflict. Why? I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I wonder what is older, myself or this Asylum. I suppose it is lucky that we undead have no need of food or drink, these halls have long since been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. I’ve seen some of my brethren over the ages run past. None speak. Have we forgotten how to use our tongues? I find it a labor to even consider the meaning of the spoken word in my mind. Perhaps though, this is part of the process of becoming hollow. The absolute loss of self, of humanity… of meaning. I find myself worried to say the least. This dark cell shall be the end of me. My flesh decaying, becoming like leather….. This must be a slow process indeed. To think; some are worried about quickly becoming hollow. Then again, who is to say how long I have actually been here? I don’t know anymore. Without the need for sleep…. how can one judge the days? These black firebombs and a broken sword are all that I have. I could try and end my life; though I would just come back anew here….well I suppose ‘Anew’ is the wrong word. Why am I thinking… far easier to fade…into…nothing.
