To awaken somewhere unknown to him was an experience all on it's own. He knew in an instant that it wasn't Anor Londo, he couldn't sense Ornstein or Smough nearby and guarding him as they always had, or the Fire Keeper of the city. And his legs-
His legs?
A pale hand reached down to touch equally pale legs, skin sensitive to touch.
His staff and bow lay nearby, normally one but the strange magic that stole away the snakes that replaced his legs seemed to have split his magic as well. Not that he could use much magic as it was, poison still coursing through his body thanks to Sulyvahn. There was enough in him for now though to make himself a quiver of arrows though, as he shakily pulled himself to his feet.
The undead here weren't entirely unlike those in Lordran, though he could tell they hadn't gone hollow. Not entirely. Odd. Still, he was able to use his magic arrows to cut through them and escape the musty old church.
The air outside had a chill to it and as he looked up to the night sky, he couldn't help but stare in awe. Anor Londo was always lit by the setting sun, he couldn't remember it otherwise.
When he finally dragged his gaze away, he could spot a figure in the distance, garbed in white. Tired as he was, still sick and weaker for her exertion, he forced himself over to the man, bow slung across his shoulders and clutching his staff until his knuckles turned why.
"You. Where in Lordran do I find myself?" It's rude, and he's usually better mannered, but he's too disoriented to care.
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His legs?
A pale hand reached down to touch equally pale legs, skin sensitive to touch.
His staff and bow lay nearby, normally one but the strange magic that stole away the snakes that replaced his legs seemed to have split his magic as well. Not that he could use much magic as it was, poison still coursing through his body thanks to Sulyvahn. There was enough in him for now though to make himself a quiver of arrows though, as he shakily pulled himself to his feet.
The undead here weren't entirely unlike those in Lordran, though he could tell they hadn't gone hollow. Not entirely. Odd. Still, he was able to use his magic arrows to cut through them and escape the musty old church.
The air outside had a chill to it and as he looked up to the night sky, he couldn't help but stare in awe. Anor Londo was always lit by the setting sun, he couldn't remember it otherwise.
When he finally dragged his gaze away, he could spot a figure in the distance, garbed in white. Tired as he was, still sick and weaker for her exertion, he forced himself over to the man, bow slung across his shoulders and clutching his staff until his knuckles turned why.
"You. Where in Lordran do I find myself?" It's rude, and he's usually better mannered, but he's too disoriented to care.