Heavy breaths..
Heavy breaths..
Under clad armor, silver as it is, coated with the finest of green fur.
He moves.
Under the veil of the night, though unneeded, though unrequested,
He moves.
Such is the fate of the hollowed.
Such is the fate of the one who seeks to break the curse of eternity.
He had left the Underworld, and at the word of the Father of the Abyss, Manus, Faraam has begun to seek out strength.
Strength to fuel his humanity.
Faraam is a man with utmost resolve, he is the incarnation of human will at its peak, and, even at its worst, he is a mighty king with four crowns to bear.
The Underworld had come and go easily, and, because he had met individuals that had a few shared goals in mind with Manus, he listened to their request.
But, there was no time to think about this.
For Faraam, mere walking is something that needs absolute focus.
No matter how sharp your senses, you can never tell what might go wrong.
After the meeting with those people, Faraam ventured through the Underworld and managed to gather more souls, and, from those, he placed a bonfire directly outside of where said people were.
And from that bonfire, he traversed to the first one he made, in the midst of the Ingrassian-Demon Frontier.
He did not have a Firekeeper to channel his souls with.. So, he could not use those souls to gain strength, not yet.
That's what he knows, anyways.
Firekeepers, as they were called, were mediums that acted as the speakers of the First Flame and its extensions, and the translators for whoever wanted to use them.
They had the power to manipulate soul-power to alter someone's energy, increasing whilst doing so, and, on rare occasions, by special request, reduce someone's power.
Faraam's close acquaintance, who was also a sort of Firekeeper, Shannalotte, or, as she was known, the "Emerald Herald".
She always awaited one who would save Drangleic, one who would save the land.
But, after a certain point, she revealed who she truly was.
A daughter of dragons, sent by Aldia's creation, the Ancient Dragon, to guide the one true king to their throne, to guide the one true to king to slay the Queen.
To guide the one true king to the Throne of Want.
And, to the last of that world's days, she awaited Faraam day on and day off, hoping to be of any aid whatsoever.

Faraam, although not a man of emotion, still missed the sight of her.
It gave him a comforting feeling, minor as it may be, to settle down near the bonfire of Majula.
But now, he must erase all these thoughts from his mind, as, once again, he reminds himself that he is traversing through lands unknown, uncharted in his own mind.
He supposed himself to have neared the settlement he wanted to enter earlier, right when he awoke in this world.
And he guessed correctly, as, in the near horizon, he sees that same settlement.
He approaches, and in doing so, he steps into a clearing, there was no other way around it.
He must become a demon slayer once more.
He has found a reason to become strong once more, he has found a reason to be swept away by another journey.
He has found another reason to march forward.
A swing here, an arm severed.
A swing there, heads roll.
Heads will roll.
Arms will be severed.
And not just that, entire groups shattered, and not just that,
Entire legions slaughtered.
A dance of two swords, a dance of limbs and torsos.
The ground shakes, and entire bodies are sent hitting each other.
Violence, may it be, for Faraam cared not.
He just wanted to move forward.
These were but tiny pieces of a greater purpose.
Nothing but pawns in a game of kings.
Again... And again.. The rhythm never stopped.
An endless dance party.
Well, an almost endless.
Faraam ended up crashing his swords into a wall, one of the settlement's walls, to be exact, out of sheer focus on killing demons.
He unstuck his swords, and took one last glance.
He had gained much souls, and now he stands in front of the gates.
The gate guards stared at him with utmost astonishment, they were taken by shock, and it took them a minute to register what he now wanted; entry to the settlement.
They hesitated at first, thinking he might pull a trick on them, thinking he might be a monster in armor, but, they opened the gate once he stared at them through his helm.
Ah that helm, the same helm which brings fear and order..
A little dented, but kept in top condition thanks to the bonfires.
The dent supposedly existed since before the day he obtained the helmet, it must have been an intended design, a design to reflect what a god of war must go through, battle after battle after battle, and for that, what better than a dent?
Now, the gates opened slowly.
-"C-Come in! Weapons sheathed!"
Faraam stared for a second at the guard standing on the left pillar holding the gate who was talking to him, then moved in after putting both of his Murakumos back into their place.
-"Move forwards slowly! Don't turn around!"
Faraam obliged, he was not intending on looking back anyways.
The guard on the right pillar who was just speaking to him must've shut the gate closed, because after that, a man came from his right side.
"This is the frontier town.. Why have you come here?"
The other guard came down, as Faraam turned his head around slightly, eyeing the first guard.
-"Passing."
His words had no pause, no stretching.
His words were as they were, in perfect form.
He only wanted to pass, pass through this area.
The guard stuttered a little, before giving him a piece of advice.
-"I-I s-see..
I will t-tell you this..
Do n-not... Anger the monsters beyond here.."
Faraam nodded, having understood the meaning both literally and contextually.
The guard then returned to his post, and so did the other, and Faraam moved forward.
Some gave him stares, others just ignored him, but in a small minority's eyes, he was a danger.
He was a danger to that minority's livelihoods.
If he passes through Ingrassia, he'll cause hell on every single monster he comes across, leaving nothing for those poor workers who live off of guild quests and job posts.
And so, some of that minority rushed to Lura, the capital of Ingrassia.
They rushed to the Free Guild Headquarters.
But for now, Faraam walked through the town, staring down every single inn, shop and house.
He had made it a habit to loot houses, as back in Drangleic, they were all empty and or filled with hollows.
But now, he only had one objective:
Draw a map in his head detailing all the shops whether it be armories, weapon smiths or just simple shops made for any kind of items.
He used inns and houses as marks in his head to remember the location of every shop.
Faraam was one for detail, as he through his journey, realized that one misstep, one slipped memory, can cause certain death.
Not that he had to worry about that, as he can revive.
But that curse be damned, that is what he wants to be rid of, immortality.
He finally reached the end of the city, and he took one last look.
A grand picture to remember the city by, to be framed in his mind for as long as he needs it.
A small boy came running to him, and an older man whom Faraam could only assume to be the boy's father followed after.
-"Boy! I said don't run after him! The man must be busy!"
The boy stood in front of Faraam, and after gathering up courage, talked quietly.
-"M..Mister.. Thank you for.. Killing the demons.."
The boy kept his head down.
Faraam felt nothing.
He didn't care about the feelings of a small boy, he did not even know him, or remotely feel attached to him.
He stayed silent, and the father finally caught up.
-"Sorry for my little brat here bothering you, it's just that he dreams of slaying demons when grows old, like his older brother who..
Perished doing so.
We live right by the wall, and he's always sneaking off there..
Thank you for that, by the way, nothing has been more satisfying for me in a long time.."
The man thanked Faraam as well, who, in turn, gave a small nod.
He had to act out of his original character, even for a little bit.
Yes, he didn't feel obliged to acknowledge any of their desires or feelings, but, he did feel obliged in not having a bad image of him painted.
He didn't want the people of this world shunning him.
Turning his nod from the father to the boy, he gave the latter a quick glance, and turned around once more.
-"Be safe!.."
The boy mustered the remainder of his courage to say that, and by the time he did, Faraam had already left the scene.
Faraam ventured through some woods, and settled down for a little while.
He had intended to summon another bonfire, because, back in Drangleic, it was almost a pattern-like placement the bonfires had, but he chose not to.
He deemed the bonfire unnecessary, and he could not be sure he'll find more souls to use the bonfire, and he was not too injured, in fact, the demons did not even lay many scratches on him to begin with.
For some reason, this world seemed too weak.
The strongest being he has encountered so far.. Was that white haired woman, and the Father of the Abyss, Manus.
Both were really on good relations with him now, but, that white hair... He could not stop thinking about her.
Even when his emergency senses were telling him to keep his guard up, he couldn't stop thinking.
Was he entranced? A charm spell maybe? No..
It was the air of mystery around her.
He was not one to care, but when it came to his future, he had to decipher every last line she said.