Each step of my armored boots on the hard-packed earth was confidence, crushing undergrowth beneath me. Each sway of my long, dragonslayer spear—grasped in my right gauntlet—was competence, deftly cutting low-hanging obstructions from my path, movements sinuous as a snake. As I walked, the plates of my golden armor, shaped to cover every inch of my upper body, moved together in a ceaseless, deadly dance. Though I walked with grace, I walked with caution; and though I walked with silence, all could hear me and fear. The sound of the metal coverings draped over my legs in layers, swishing through the air with a lethal intent. The rumblings of my armor as each step forced it to settle, and resettle. Doubtful be it that this forest had ever seen as dangerous a predator as I. And a predator I was, as my lion helmet and crimson plume denoted me.
I had been walking in this dark forest for hours, always in one direction. No creature had accosted me, for they heard my majesty, saw my lethality. I had been walking for hours, and now I was out.
Free, green plains spread before me as I exited the dense woodlands. A look about, and I observed that the forest itself stopped rather abruptly, as if a great line had been drawn, and I had just crossed it. Peculiar, but not noteworthy. No, what was truly noteworthy was a small village, which I could see lying a small distance away. The structures appeared simple, thatched roofing and wooden housing, primitive and undeveloped. Nothing of the greatness held by My Lord’s Treasure, but a place of civilization nonetheless.
I resumed my slow walk, gazing into the sky as I covered the trek calmly. The heavens were such a magnificent shade of blue, filled with the life of summer, and the Sun’s brilliant rays were like the soft touch of a lover, happy to see me again, warming my heart. Looking down, the grass was as healthy a green as I had ever imagined, luscious and fecund, spreading outwards in the gap between the forest and the village. Sometimes, a cooling breeze undulated down from the heavens, causing large waves in the green sea around me. It was an idyllic picture, far removed from the chaotic battlefield, or the lifeless marble halls of the palace.
As I entered the village limits, I was tranquil in my heart. Long had it been since I was truly at peace. Long since the passing of my closest, my family, my blood. I was ready to unleash murder, as always. No mortal enemy faced me, though, no knights or peasants come to face their death at the end of my spear. Instead, as I walked the cobbled streets of the village, I saw none. Not a face, not a hair, not a hand. While the day was bright and the houses were cheery, albeit oddly constructed, not a single villager was here to breathe life into them. I felt watched, though, things glancing at me from the shadows of the windows, held breaths in the air, waiting, fearing me. As they should.
After minutes of walking in the hushed silence, the road opened up into a market, filled with stalls which were in turn filled with produce and products. All were abandoned as if in haste, coins lying upon counters, items fallen haphazardly on the plaza. At first glance, this place of convening would have appeared to be as barren as every other part of the town. That is, were it any other than I who glanced. Nay, my expert eyes instantly spotted an odd, purple figure standing further in the centre of the market. Even from this distance, every tiny detail sprang forth, allowing me to see exactly what creature was waiting for me here. Despite this, however, I saw nothing truly familiar. The creature was small—head going to just above my waist—quadrupedal, and unnaturally colored. A main hue of purple covered its body, a form of coat. Straight, combed hair grew from its head, a dull, dark blue with a single streak of magenta and purple running through it, a design mirrored in its voluminous tail. On thought, I realized that it resembled some form of tiny horse, although not superficially. Rather, the opposite.
As I moved closer to the creature with slow, tranquil steps, my spear held closely at my side—cocked and ready to be thrust with the right twist of my body—I was further assured in this comparison. The general design seemed to be like that of a horse, in a way, the four legs ending in stumps, the tail and the the haunches. But to say that this creature was a horse would be a mockery. No horse had eyes that large, or of that color, of such was I sure. No horse had a tiny, dull horn upon their head, colored like their coat, nor wings that looked too small to carry themselves. No horse carried such a human, serious frown upon their face, nor would any horse ever have looked so utterly ridiculous doing so.
Finally, we faced off against each other. The horse attempted to stand with authority, but it was simply a mockery of true power. I stood with grace. The horse stood with bunched muscles and controlled breathing. I stood with relaxed limbs and even breath. The horse was no threat, so ridiculous did it look to me, standing there, attempting to impress me. It was an immobile rock, too high-strung to react properly. I was relaxed. I was a spring, tensed and ready unleash death.It, nay, she cleared her throat. Her voice was decidedly feminine in nature, an odd overlap. “Please state your business in Ponyville, uh…” She faltered, eyes scanning my figure with her large, darting eyes. It was mesmerizing, in a way, to observe how her pupils retracted and expanded, to gaze into the eternal abyss of those large, black dots, ringed by brilliant purple, darker than her coat. “Uh, your business… Sir?”
Ser Ornstein.
Silence was my answer, though. I had not spoken since Gough returned to me with the news of Oolacile. Had not spoken since two of my family had disappeared off the face of the earth, both dead in the same place, one below the ground, the other above. The thought bled my heart, old wounds never healed. My retort seemed not to please the horse, though, as her frown turned to a scowl.
“Sir, I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but your armor and—” she seemed to halt, looking for the right word as she glanced at my dragonslayer spear “—your equipment, scared a lot of the ponies of Ponyville. But! I’m sure that if we just sit down somewhere and talk about it, we can be great friends, and everybody can see you’re not a danger at all, and that I was right and they’re just overreacting! So…?” she smiled hopefully at me.
Friends? With this diminutive creature? I had called dozens of great soldiers my friend, Silver Knights, Dragonslayer Greatarchers and The Lord’s Blades, giants and humans alike of worth, of honor and valor. This creature obviously had not one single iota of their greatness, but despite that, it expected to garner my respect? My admiration? My love? No.
My spear rose and fell, the butt end striking the ground with enough force to make the ground—and my armor—tremor, destabilizing the horse. My legs were spread and my stance firm. The creature was obviously not a priority, a fact which I was quickly learning as the now-unfamiliar feeling of a needy stomach assailed me. Odd, that. It had been… long since I had last hungered for food, long since I had last lain down to sleep. Long since I had removed my armor. It had been a long time of standing vigil, protecting the paltry illusion which kept Anor Londo going, kept the subjects at ease.
I scanned the marketplace, the horse never leaving my periphery. Off to the side was a stall filled with ripe apples. Green apples, red apples, all shiny and juicy. I could feel my mouth salivating, my stomach, after so long, informing me that I should to eat something. I wasn’t about to ignore this—especially since I hadn’t enjoyed the pleasures of food in ages—so I turned and strode to the stall, spear tapping the ground as I walked, ignoring the horse’s curious calls.
As I looked down on those tempting apples, the horse’s clopping of hooves and confused murmuring dismissed as inconsequential, it struck me that I’d need to remove my helmet in order to sate my hunger. Not a problem, of course, I’d just take it with me. Not a half-second later and I’d found a brown cloth bag, awkwardly beginning to fill it with the best of the crop, unwilling to relinquish hold of my spear. Halfway through filling it up, the female behind me raised her voice.
“Excuse me, Sir, are you going to pay for those? I’m afraid that if you don’t it’ll legally be stealing, and I’ll be have to arrest you!”
I even let a small chuckle go at that. The very notion of I, Ser Ornstein, being arrested for theft was laughable. In the olden times, back when the Dragon War was still raging, peasants had fallen upon their knees to offer me the fruits of their labor. Why, I even remembered an occasion where a young girl had given Ciaran a sour, old apple, thinking herself helpful. The face Lord Gwyn made when we convinced him to eat it would stay with me forev—
I tensed; time at once becoming both an eternity and the shortest moment I had ever experienced. Battle haze had settled over my mind, spurred on by the tell-tale sound of sorcery from behind me. I whirled around in a clockwise half-circle, my spear turning with me in a large, backhanded arch, hitting the side of the sorcerer horse’s face with the flat of the blade—emphasized by the crack of broken teeth—and sending her flying like a purple, blurred missile. Her trajectory ended in the window of one of the surrounding houses, an acceptable distance courtesy of my good footing. Curiously, a short glimpse I’d gotten of her had shown that, besides being very surprised, her catalyst had been the tiny, dull horn on her forehead.
I had no time to think further, though, as a rope lasso flew in from behind me, looping around my left arm and cinching tight. A pitiful attempt to immobilize me, but an attempt nonetheless. The sudden sound of an object whistling through the air behind me spoke of their tactics: pinning me down and killing with artillery. My reaction was instantaneous. I turned around, my right arm swinging around in a backhand to deflect whatever arrow they had fired at me. To my surprise, the “arrow” was another horse-creature, this one skye-blue and with wings. However, this did not stop me from repeating my performance with the purple creature: I smashed the winged horse with the flat of my blade, deflecting it into a stall with the strength of a dragonslayer. Needless to say, the wooden construct was obliterated.
I was reminded that the battle was far from over by the rope tugging on my left arm. Clearly, whatever assailant on the other end was trying their hardest to pull me towards them. Such a shame that it was failing. Deciding to make quick work of this, I grabbed the rope and, with a sharp motion, pulled the horse on the other end towards me. As it flew through the air and smacked into my armored hip, I noted that this one had neither horn nor wings, made memorable only by an appealing hat, which was worn over its blonde hair. I also noted that it still hadn’t let go of the rope, which it held in its mouth. While the creature got its sense about it and started glaring at me balefully, I was stuck in ponderings of hunger. Those apples were starting to sound better and better, as evinced by the grumblings of my stomach, so I decided to make short work of it and get going.
In an almost bored fashion—for I was bored, these equines proving unexciting adversaries—I started throwing the creature at the end around, smashing it into walls, the ground, a few stalls, all the while listening to its yells and the not-so-subtle sounds of breaking limbs. Eventually, the “game” was over, and the rope was released mid-swing, the creature making a lazy arc through the air and landing a short distance away.
Satisfied, I walked over and grabbed the apple sack. One last equine tried to stop me, screaming something about “harming my friends”, but I didn’t pay her much attention, opting instead to kick it in its countenance. 'Twas yet another note in the day’s symphony of cracking bones.
Obviously, I would find neither humans nor giants here, so I set out once more, walking away from the forest and further into the village. Eventually, I’d be have to come out on the other side. From there I would find my nation, my people and my duty, and may Lord Gwyn bestow mercy upon those who stood in my way, for I would grant none.
The apples turned out to be worth the maiming. Simply exquisite.