A great hump of cloth draped over a massive dog-like shape was lying in the center of a ruined mausoleum. Over the sound of the ever-present tornado that was the center of this crumbling land, sounds of draconic lightning and clashing weapons were heard.
Maliketh knew that sound well. The Tree Sentinel living outside his ruined arena was battling a tarnished, who was here to unbind Destined Death.
Despite this apparent threat to his one and only goal, Maliketh was calm. The Tree Sentinel was strong, and so was he. That tarnished was of no significant threat to him, and would likely die to the sentinel anyways.
What interrupted Maliketh’s calm was the sound of a portal opening.
In the doorway to his destroyed mausoleum, a circular portal colored a necrotic green had opened up.
A skeletal human, wrapped in leathers and cloth and with golden jewelry coating his entire body stepped out of the portal.
Maliketh knew what he was looking at. Being Marika’s shadow, he knew when he was looking at a god. A fellow god of death, from a distant realm. His paw gripped his dagger tightly.
The name of this god swiftly popped into Maliketh’s head, and as he rose his head to look at this newcomer, with the heavy winds of Farum Azula moving the cloth off of his face and revealing his armored canine face, he growled this new gods name with Malice:
“Jergal.”
In an ancient voice, warped by magic, Jergal responded to Maliketh with seemingly no emotions:
“Maliketh… Call me Withers.”
Maliketh growled at the skeletal deity and said: “Why hath thou come here? To steal this world’s death? Art thou not satisfied by thine own power?” with even more malice than beforehand.
“No,” replied Withers.
“Then what could thou possibly need me for?”
“I need thy aid. The Dead Three threaten the balance of my own world. I hath selected several mortals to aid in the rebalancing, but they still lack proper leadership. Which is what I hath come to you for.”
“Thou'rt a god of death. If these Dead Three art such a problem, then thou shouldst kill them thyself.”
Withers shook his head and said: “‘tis not as simple as thou perceives it to be. What is simple is my request:
A soul.”
Maliketh tilted his head in confusion, loosening his grip upon the blade.
“Thou lack-eth a soul?”
“The soul of a leader, specifically. Without one, the chosen mortals will be lost and unorganized. They will fail, and all the mortal realm will fall into chaos,” explained Withers.
Maliketh hummed in a way that sounded like a growl and said: “Though I bind death, the business of souls is not my domain. That is the domain of Queen Marika, and the Erdtree. While Marika is uncouncilable, the Erdtree still does its duty. So, any souls rejected by it are thou’s for the taking. You may take as many as you wish for, we care not for those rejected by it.”
Withers gave a respectful bow to Maliketh and said: “My greatest gratitude upon thee for this aid. I wish thee luck on thy quests, O binder of this world’s death.”
He then turned around, coming face-to-face with a human around as short as him that wore golden armor with lions on the chest peice, draconic spikes on the legs, and odd bronze gauntlets on his hands. The face was of a younger fellow, a crescent-moon hat hiding his hair. He carried a brass shield and a staff with a shattered geode on its end.
“Ignore mineself, mortal. I hath nothing that thou wishes for, I simply wish to pass by thee,” Withers said to the human, who moved aside to let Withers pass.
Withers did indeed pass by the human, and opened up a portal which he passed through.
Maliketh saw a Tarnished walk by Withers into his arena, the one who had aided in gathering the Deathroots before he traveled here, to this strange storm beyond time.
Despite him being saddened at this betrayal, he lunged at the Tarnished, and thus began the battle for Destined Death.
But that is not the story we are to tell.
Maliketh’s portal took him to the top of a large wall, surrounding a city buried in ash. Withers could sense that the flow of time here was different from that of Farum Azula. This city was built around a currently burning spectral tree, which Withers could sense the power of. It was the Erdtree Maliketh spoke of. Why it was on fire, Withers knew not.
“Curious,” he said, before his eyes glowed bright green and Withers began to gaze upon the souls of this world.
Many of them were within the Erdtree, aiding it in growth. Many others were within various mortal bodies, and most of those that were not in these bodies were being drawn to the Erdtree itself. Many souls were being taken from the Erdtree back to the bodies they originally inhabited.
There were a smaller number of souls not drawn to the Erdtree at all, yet they were still numerous.
Allas, most of them were not suitable for Wither’s needs. Most were simply not capable of the leadership skills needed, or would be unable to survive the trip between worlds.
But then Withers spotted the souls he needed.
Sixteen of them, to be precise.
But not all of them were to be trusted.
One of which was of a man who had become fully entwined with a serpent of pure gluttony, and thus would be too self-centered to aid at all.
One was living, and thus could not be taken.
One was bound to a land of shadow, trapped forever until the darkness shrouding the land was lifted.
One soul was bound to a god, and thus could not be taken.
Two were literal animals, and thus could not be taken.
Two have had their wills broken for ages, and thus were unsuitable.
The rest of the souls were eligible, but not perfect.
Most had divine origins, but were not directly bound to any deity through their souls.
Two carried curses, one from a god of rot and one of eternal youth.
But the youth had abandoned all that would make him mortal. He was naught but a being of pure control. The many pieces of his mortal being were scattered amongst a land of shadow, but not bound to it. Although, he could reform the youth, and return his true nature to him.
The rotted one was a great warrior, duty-bound and loyal. Yet her curse would make her body fragile. Withers knew not how to negate their curses, but it appeared that the youth could forestall the rotten sickness in his sister. Yet neither could progress without the other. Perhaps he could convince the mortal to rejoin her old half.
Of course, if the rot was unable to he forestalled, this could introduce the god of rot into Withers' home. But Withers had a plan for this.
One refused to be a plaything to gods, but this could prove to be more of an aid than a hindrance, so long as his godhood is kept a secret.
And one was so violent he had bound a familiar to him to repress his urges.
The rest also had their flaws, each one being unique, but balanced out by their various talents.
So, with no perfect candidates, Withers pondered on whom to choose.
Until he had an idea.
And so it was decided.
All the eligible souls would be taken.
The souls of Morgott, Mogh, Godrick, Godfrey, Radahn, Melania, Miquella, and Ranni would be taken.
Withers did hesitate, considering that this amount may be too many souls, and that they may rebel. Yet he also knew that the actions of mortals are not as simple as it would seem. Their motivations can be more complex than that of his fellow gods, along with their goals and the steps that they will take to reach it.
It was better to simply take these souls all at once than to have to continuously ferry multiple souls around in case the mortals did not act as he thought they would.
And so it was.
Withers flicked his hand, and all the souls were sucked into their own portals.
Except for one.
A four armed blue-skinned woman with a icy spectral second face overlapped over her original one dressed in snow white robes and an oversized witch hat gazed upon the burning Erdtree with an absolute unit of what appeared to be a man wearing heavy armor and a black cape, yet had the head of a wolf. A sort of scar of hairless skin ran across his right eye, and that was the only spot visible on him without hair.
“So Mistress Ranni, what should we do now? You have a plan ready for this… right?” Asked the Wolf-man.
Ranni’s spectral face showed signs of worry, while her physical one remained calm.
“Tis dependant on what the Tarnished shall do, Blaidd. We may still be able to convince them to bring about the Age of Stars,” she replied calmly.
“Very well Mistress Ranni. Should I resume the search for Nokron’s Treasure?”
“Yes. Even if the Tarnished ignores us, I must still carry out parts of my original plan.”
It was at this moment a portal opened up behind the duo.
Both Blaidd and Ranni turned towards it, with Blaidd grabbing his greatsword, readying himself for combat.
Ranni could tell that this portal had divine origins, but could not tell what god had created it. But this knowledge was of the least of her worries, as the portal began to pull her towards it.
Ranni grabbed onto Blaidd as the portal slowly dragged her towards it, stopping her movements.
Withers noticed that Ranni’s soul had still not been taken.
Odd, that the soul of someone who had already died would be resisting his pull, but it was no matter. Withers merely increased the power of the portal.
Blaidd was now being dragged into the portal from how hard it was pulling Ranni into it.
He desperately tried to resist the pull, embedding his greatsword in the ground and hugging Ranni with his free arm to protect his mistress and himself from being pulled in. But try as he might, he could not stop the portal from dragging them in.
“Mistress Ranni, I must inform you that I cannot… hold on… for much longer!” Blaidd announced, clearly struggling.
Ranni pulled a glintstone staff out of her cloak and desperately attempted to cast a spell that would aid her in this situation, but the glintstone in the staff had been silenced. No magic would come out of it.
“My magic has been blocked, Blaidd. I hath no way to aid in escaping this… this thing!” Ranni replied, both faces full of fear.
“Then I guess this is the end, Mistress Ranni. I enjoyed being your shadow.”
“And I would ask for none other to be my shadow, Blaidd. I… love you.”
Blaidd looked at Ranni strangely for a second before asking: “Platonically, right?”
“Yes, platonically!” Replied Ranni.
Blaidd’s sword was then ripped out of the ground, and as he did not dare to let go of his mistress, he was sucked into the portal along with her.
Withers sensed two unauthorized mortals entering into different portals.
This would not do.
One was still living, and the other was an animal. They weren’t suitable to be taken.
And so, Withers went to meet them.
The first one was the soul of a horse.
While never bound to him, it had a strong connection to Radahn. This connection was as strong as that of a wizard to his familiar.
The horse was Leonard, searching for his friend in life in death.
All it wished for was to be with Radahn again. The one who learned to defy gravity itself to keep his friendship strong with the horse. It had already had its friend ripped away from it before, and it was ready to fight to stay with his friend.
Withers decided to make this horse Radahn’s familiar. The poor animal would never have a peaceful death without his best friend, and the story of this duo was one Withers quite enjoyed.
And so it was.
Leonard was now Radahn’s familiar.
Now, to the other mortal.
A half-wolf by the name of Blaidd.
Still living, and bound to the soul of Ranni.
Strange, that this living mortal was bound to a dead soul. Not only that, but their bond ran as deep as the one Leonard had with Radahn.
A shadow servant, a friend since childhood, and a friend to the end.
Like Leonard, Blaidd searched for his closest companion desperately. Once more this was odd. His companion had died long ago, he should be aware of this.
Withers approached the mortal.
Blaidd was trapped in a monochrome gray landscape, with no discernable features.
He himself was gray as well, but he could sense his Mistress somewhere in this accursed land that reeked of the dead. Then, a skeletal man wrapped in bandages, leather, and golden jewelry appeared in front of him.
“Curious. Thou bond with thy mistress transcends even death, such to the point that thou searches for her here, in this place.” Withers said calmly.
Blaidd looked down to meet the eyes of this man and asked: “You know of my mistress? Can you tell me where she is?”
“She is dead. Yet thine bond persists.”
“My mistress hasn’t died yet. I can still sense her, somewhere in this place.”
“Thou sense her soul. Her hath body died long ago.”
“Yes, she slew it on the Night of Black Knifes. But she’s not as dead as you think she is.”
“Wrong. Her body hath withered. Her soul hath left it. She is dead.”
“In body, not soul.”
“Correct. But she is still dead.”
“I don’t know what your definition of ‘dead’ is, but Ranni is not that.”
“What makes thou think that she is not dead?”
“For one, I was just speaking to her before I was pulled into here. Two, her soul still inhabits a body.”
“I sensed no bond between her body and soul. She hath no connection to the mortal flesh she may have inhabited. Therefore, she is dead.”
“Do you know where she is? Body OR soul?” Blaidd said, a tad annoyed at how circular this conversation has become.
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me where she is?”
“No.”
Blaidd gripped his greatsword, readying himself to strike.
“Tell me where she is,” he demanded, “or suffer the sting of her shadow.”
“I shall do neither,” Withers said calmly and casually.
Blaidd growled at the skeleton and lunged, but was frozen mid-lunge.
Withers had raised his hand in front of him, not threatened by Blaidd in the slightest.
“Thou hath proven thy bond to thine mistress. Therefore, thou shall become her familiar. Thou shalt not be able to recall this event.”
Withers flicked his hand to the side, and so it was.
Blaidd was now Ranni’s familiar. No longer was he a shadow to the Lunar Princess.
And thus, Withers returned to his home realm with the selected souls. They would gain their new bodies soon enough.
