Game Thread: Malethor

From the cursed soil you arise, mist is strewn about you. You cannot remember; who you are, how did you fall, all this is lost to you. But in the distance there is a soft orange glow. Hope?

You approach the light, almost mindlessly driven to hold your hand over the coiled blade. The bonfire lights, for a fleeting moment warmth fills your cold heart, restoring your vigour and your strength. You feel rested, as though you had stayed for ten or so minuets in this moment, though it lasted only a moment. Filled with determination you look once more around you. You stand in a deep vale; filled with mist and graves. Across the clearing from you is a corpse its decayed hands clasp a dull great flask a cracked red eye orb untouched by age. You recognise these items, powerful items indeed...

The sides of the vale are steep but there is an old path winding through the mist.

Your memory is clouded, it is unclear why you are here, the dull green flask seems to respond to the presence of the bonfire, it glows brightly with what you believe to be healing strength.

As you check yourself over, you easily find everything you would expect to. You also cannot see any sign of unlife, except for the darksign, located somewhere on your body (your choice)The graveyard around you is blanketed in fog, you can see distant figures moving around the mist as well as scattered stone memorials. There is a single path leading out of the deep valley, it becomes steep and climbs over a crest out of sight.

Heading away from the bonfire you find one of the figures quickly. A hollow, mindless undead, and the fate of all who bear the curse. They have lost there sense of purpose and thus their mind, there physical form ground away by the dark, it's skin is gaunt and grey. Your presence breaks the hollow from it's mindless lamentation and it moves to attack you with it's naked fist.

With your two powerful strikes you smite your foe who collapses to the ground and crumbles to ash. Rising from the vanishing corpse is whispy white essence. A fading soul for your collection. From your position here in the fog you can se several other hollows, though you will probably attract the attention of several of you approach any. There is still a path leading out of the graveyard.

Even before you reach for it the soul is drawn to you absorbed into yourself.

As you start to head out of the grave yard the idle wanderings of the hollows begin to trouble you, it is clear that you have caught the attention of four of the sorry souls, to approach from behind and another two from ahead.

The first hollow's neck offered greater resistance then you were expecting, and though it is driven back by the powerful blow your sword does not meet the other creature. The two hollows you engaged lunge towards you with the bare limbs one catching you with it's wild swing the other falling short, while the two behind, spurred on by the excitement of combat rush towards you, though they have failed to close the gap.

Before your devinely empowered weapon the hollows stood no chance the original targets of your malice fall and turn to ash and you absorb their soul. The others having closed the distance strike at you. You barely manège to knock one aside and the other lands a blow with their flailing limbs

The mindless hollows snap to your will. You can sense the depth of there despair, these wretched creatures may have once been like you but they lost there purpose. With the foes who had approached you ash or servile you cast your eye around you, there are still hollows about but you would likely need to depart the path to attract their attention. The path winds up from here, towards the entrance to the valley where the sheer cliffs press in close to the path.