Bearer of the Dark Sigil, and our Lord of Hollows.
For the time thou remain'st our Lord, we of Londor shall serve thee.
When the moment cometh, to Link the Fire, wrest it from its mantle.
I, Yuria, and all Londor embrace thy impending Lordship.
Ahh, merciful goddess, mother of the Forlorn, who have no place to call their own...
Please, bear witness to our resolve...
Fire for Ariandel... Fire for Ariandel... And the ash to kindle flame...
Wait, you've... You've the same scent as that woman..
Then you must be an Ashen One. You must be!
You don't know how long I've searched!
Now, Ashen One, I have a kindness to ask of you.
My lady lives in the cold land of Ariandel. I need you to show her flame.
A proper flame, that will burn the rot away.
As any Ash seeks fire, you will surely help me!
Ahh, thank you. They of Ash never fail.
Just a moment, then...
The painting of Ariandel. Well, rotted scrap of it, that is.
Go on, take it, touch it...
And then, the Ashes were two.
Ahh, have you just arrived? How very unusual.
Just how long has it been!
Rejoice, my new friend! For this is a true haven of the Forlorn.
The cold and gentle painted world of Ariandel.
Quick, go along, find one for yourself. A sweetly rotting bed to lie upon...
My very own home now...
Well, well...
You look to be Unkindled.
Well, you're Lady Yuria's Lord of Hollows.
No bell tolls, and yet, you've slipped into the painting?
Oh, no matter. If you've lost your way, the words of Lady Friede will guide you.
Now, go on inside. Show respect, and listen carefully.
And let Lady Friede speak to you.
Welcome. To the painted world of Ariandel.
I am Friede. I have long stood beside our blessed Father, and the rest of the Forlorn.
But Forlorn thou seemeth not.
Lord of Hollows, I know not the missteps which led thee to this Painted World.
But they duty is all, and thy duty lieth elsewhere.
I presume it visible to thee? The bonfire here, in this room.
A meek and faded thing, but 'twill guide thee nonetheless.
Be forewarned, eager Ash. Should this world wither and rot, even then would Ariandel remain our home.
Now, return from whence thou cam'st. For that is thy place of belonging.
Thou'st a place in that world, and that alone is cause to rejoice.
Lady Friede has spoken, has she not? Then tarry no longer and begone.
There is one thing you should know. Inside the cold painting, curiosity could be your cross...
Stray from the withering flame, and the snow will swallow you whole.
Carry on, for Lady Yuria, and for Londor.
Heh heh...
Hmm, well, there's nothing forlorn about you. You must be the other Ash, I suppose?
Ohh, finally, you've come! I've been very patient, you see.
The tales tell of two Ashes, who'll burn Ariandel away. And we need only one more...
Oh, wondrous Ash, grant us our wish.
My Lady must see flame, and you have only to show her.
You are Ash, are you not? Is it not fire that you seek?
I am so terribly frightened, of timidly rotting away...
Like those... Like those fools on the outside.
Surely you've seen. The rot that afflicts our world.
But that witch fooled the good Father, and buried the flame.
After we had all made up our minds, too.
So, please, grant us one wish. Make the tales true, and burn this world away.
I've seen your kind, time and time again.
Every fleeing man must be caught. Every secret must be unearthed.
Such is the conceit of the self-proclaimed seeker of truth.
But in the end, you lack the stomach, for the agony that you'll bring upon yourself...
Why you miserable, mad Hollow.
You're nothing, without a bell to guide your way.
What is Lady Yuria thinking...
Forgive me, my Lady...
I swore an oath, but I have failed you...
... Lady Elfriede...
I believe... I feel the scent of ash upon thee.
Thou'rt the one of whom uncle Gael spoke. The one to show me flame.
Tis good. When this is done, may I return. The door is open thanks to thee.
Worry not, I cannot die.
I'll head off to paint. I promised uncle Gael I would.
As Ashes will be, ever seeking fire.
Those who aren't ken to fire cannot paint a world. Those absorbed by fire, must not paint a world.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten, Mother...
Thou'rt Ash. Thou'st a pact made with uncle Gael.
So I wish to tell thee all. I have a world to paint.
Behold its size. This is my canvas.
I wish to paint a picture. It's to be a cold, dark, and very gentle place.
... But first, I must see flame.
My flail... Bring me my flail.
Ahh, Friede. What stops thine ears?
I see flame. Flame, flickering, once again.
Not enough blood yet shed.
Please, my flail, right away...
Ahh, oh. Bring Friede to me, please.
Canst thou not see? The flame, flickering once again.
Soon will it surge, I can see it, feel it...
Fret not father, we have no need of thy flail.
Tis only the flame, quivering at misguided Ash.
Please, avert thine eyes.
I will snuff out these ashes for good.
Leave us be, Ashen One.
Sweep all thought of us from thy mind. As thy kind always have.
Return from whence thou cam'st. Yuria surely awaits thee.
Thou'rt the Lord of Londor, and have thine own subjects to guide.
"When the Ashes are two, a lame alighteth."
Thou'rt Ash, and fire befits thee, of course...
I can hear the fire crackle... And soon...
I can almost see the flame. My thanks, Ashen One.
Soon, uncle Gael will bring me the pigment.
I wonder if he has found it? The dark soul of man...
Ohhh, my, thank you. I can hear the crackling from here.
The sound of my home, the painting of Ariandel, burning away...
When the world rots, we set it afire. For the sake of the next world.
It's the one thing we do right, unlike those fools on the outside.
Set fire to Ariandel... Set fire to the rot...
Might that soul be... Nay. Nevermind.
It belongs to a woman from Londor.
Twas the soul of my sister. Elfriede...
A poor wench turned to Ash, who would abandon Londor...
If thou wouldst, let it nourish thy Lordship. And in return, do her one small kindness.
Remember those who stayed by her to the end, in the shadows cast by fire...
And lastly, my Lord, take up thy rightful mantle, of usurper.
At the close of the Age of Fire, all lands meet at the end of the earth.
The Ringed City is said to be at world's end.
Past this heap of rubbish, as far as one can go. But you'd better think twice.
The forsaken Ringed City was walled off by the gods to contain the pygmies.
... and the dark soul is better left well alone.
Oh, look at you, you've got your head screwed on correct. Fantastic.
Call me Lapp. I'm... a hollow.
Yes, I try to play it off, but i haven't a clue about my past. Who I was, or what I lived for.
Not even my own blessed name.
That's why I've come here, searching. For the Purging Monument, said to be in the Ringed City.
Where the pygmies who found the dark soul at the dawn of fire reside.
Cor, I can see why they call this the dreg heap at the world's end.
Mangled remnants from every age and every land.
It actually sort of lends credence to the old rumours, that the Ringed City rests below it all.
If it is the dark soul thou desirest, then seek Filianore's church, at the base of the cliff.
There will thou the sleeping Princess waken.
Her slumber is a deceit... A lid covering an overgrown privy;
A prop to keep thee from the dark soul of thine desire.
Worry not, I am a true friend to thee.
If thou'rt yet human, the urge will soon begin to swell.
To curse the gods, and bring ruin upon this accursed heap of dung.
Oh, well, fancy meeting you here!
A true blessing, that we should seek the same place, and find ourselves standing here, together.
I've got the last of my brew. Let's have our own little toast with it.
To my search, and to your duty.
All right, then. Bottoms up! Heh heh heh!
Now, I'm off in search of the Purging Monument.
Once I find it, everything will come back to me. Who I was, what I lived for, what my name was.
And what terrible grudges I held.
I am known as Shira, servant to the Princess Filianore, matriarch of the church.
They who are ken to God's name are surely ken to the terrors of the dark.
Thou'st a kind heart. To speak to a captive such as I.
May I ask thee a kindness?
Perhaps thou'st beheld the lone dragon that inhabiteth this city?
Midir is his name, and the Archdragons are his forebears.
He once railed against the dark, but was by dark afflicted.
Now here, returned, he remaineth. To watch over the sleeping Princess, true to the old accord.
... And yet, I would have thee put the dragon to rest. Afore the dark consumeth him, and his vows are forgot.
So, Midir hath into the chasm fallen.
Still, his voice I hear. The dark grieveth him yet.
I prithee, put him to rest.
Afore the dark consumeth him, and his vows are forgot.
Just afore the church of the Princess standeth a tower, honouring ancient knights.
There lieth a small shrine, behind the sculpted knight which beareth no arms.
Tis from there one may descend the chasm of darkness.
I prithee, put the great dragon to rest.
My most humble thanks. Tis thanks to thee the dragon erred not from his vows.
Now, hasten on thy journey, but wake not the slumbering Princess.
As the fire waneth, does she lie by the dark, all for the sake of Man.
I'm rather running in circles, I'm afraid. I can't find the Purging Monument.
And I've searched high and low. What if it was never here in the first place?
What did I come here in search of?
Thank you, thank you kindly. I'll speed right on over.
It won't be long now, before I know everything. Who I was, what I lived for, and what my name was.
And I'll have you to thank for it all.
I swear upon my birth name. That I am your friend.
No matter what might come out, no matter what I was.
If you would do me the honour, allow me to be a true friend, always.
I'm unbreakable, unbreakable!
Oh, finally, you've come. Now I know exactly who I was.
And for that, I've a little thanks to be giving.
Go this way, and peep past the broken staircase.
Some awfully fine treasure's just sitting there all alone. It'll change your life.
Every age, it seems, is tainted by the greed of men.
Rubbish, to one such as I, devoid of all worldly wants!
Heh heh hah hah!
Hmmm, I dunno, maybe it's just the way we are.
I'll stick you in my prayers. A fine dark soul, to you.
Unknowing visitor, return from whence thou camest. The Abyss runneth deep.
By the King's decree, none may disturb our mistress's slumber.
I, Judicator Argo, shall deliver thee justice.
Spear of the Church, sworn defender of our Princess Filianore!
Harken to the call that summons thee!
Make haste!
Spear of the church, by the sacred decree, protect our Princess.
Ohh, Filianore, help me, please...
The Red-hood is come to eat us... To eat our dark souls...
What? Still here?
Hand it over, that thing, your dark soul...
For my lady's painting...
Ahh, is this the blood?
The blood of the Dark Soul?
Ashen One, thy gift of flame has taken root.
I wonder if uncle Gael has found it. The pigment coloured like the dark soul of man.
My thanks, Ashen One. With this, will I paint a world.
Please, tell me thy name. I will name this painting after thee.
I see. We are much alike.
Then, I will name this painting "Ash".
Twill be a cold, dark and very gentle place. And one day, it will make someone a goodly home.
I wonder when uncle Gael intends his return. I hope the new painting will be to him, a gentle home.
I will finish the painting. Of a cold, dark, and very gentle place.
So that it might make a home for someone, someday.
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