Last time, on Dying Slowly in Dark Souls, I learned that I had been underestimating just how bad this undead life can be. Sure, when you die over and over again, yet always come back almost good as new, it’s easy to forget the sting that death carries. It’s easy to forget that sometimes it’s final. And yet, just like Laurentius of Great Swamp before, death has taken one more good man. My friend, Solaire of Astora, gone hollow, or at least driven mad by that maggot that had attached to his head, and put down by my hand. And he won’t be coming back.
I feel a bit hollow. No, not that kind of hollow. At least, not much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. Mourn? Rage against the Lords? Rail against the undead curse that allowed this to happen? None of those would help. Instead, as always, I can only move on. Just one foot in front of the other. My feelings don’t matter, I need to keep moving forward. I can grieve when there’s time. For now, much as I hate it, there’s some things I need to take care of.
I owe that much to Solaire, at least.
We’ve just got a few places left to explore in Lost Izalith. The first on our plate is this obvious trap we had noticed but largely ignored last entry. Now, I am a lot of things. A warrior. A genius. A renowned sexpot. One thing that’s not on this list? A chump. It’s obvious, just from checking out the lay of the floor in that room, that the ground is going to give way as soon as I put pressure on it. I don’t know a way of going through without triggering that trap, though. Hedging my bets, I stick to one side as I move forward, figuring that this will be less of a fall than walking in the center. Specifically, I stay to the left. Because it’s closer to the bait. Which I know is counter-intuitive, but come on, treasure!
Sure enough, the ground gives way as soon as I step on it. I fall. For like a foot. I had been walking directly over this root, which catches me, saving me from certain death. For once, my greed saved me. Of course, the bait disappears at this point, but I can’t complain.
I head down the root, which winds quite a bit before reaching the bottom. There are these monsters below me. I am really, really glad I didn’t fall in there. What kind of beast eats with the crown of its head?
Hey, look at that. It’s Sieg…. Something. Siegmeyer, or Sieglinde, I can’t tell. They both have those child-bearing hips. Runs in the family, I guess. Either way, I am really, really glad to see a friendly face. I could really use that, right now. I hop off the root when it nears the floor of this ruin, then make my way around to talk to them.
One of those tentacle pudding monsters tries to cut me off. I slip past him then cut him down easily enough. Continue reading