Chapter Text
He had first noticed the boy in the distance as he trekked across Limgrave. Blaidd couldn't help but stare with morbid fascination.
The Tarnished bolted out the stony entrance of the First Steps and barreled towards a Tree Sentinel with nothing but a loincloth and a club. Needless to say, the poor lad was immediately flattened into a shower of blood and grace. Minutes later, the same stubborn Tarnished scurried out the cave with club raised, ready to give it another go.
Blaidd watched the scene replay itself several times with no signs of stopping before quietly shaking his head. The Tarnished were a persistent bunch, he'll give them that. He supposed the ability to resurrect after death afforded them such luxury.
This particular Tarnished appeared to be a greenhorn in all aspects. Short and scrawny, the boy had barely taken his first few steps into manhood before death had first taken him. His stance was sloppy, swinging his club with little rhythm or aim. Blaidd doubted the lad could place a single dent on the Tree Sentinel even with unlimited lives.
The wolf tore his gaze from the scene. He almost felt bad for the boy, but he had his own tasks to tend to. A morbid part of him wondered if the lad would still be here, slamming his head against this impossible foe, when he returned from his mission.
Perhaps the lad would be sensible and try his hand elsewhere. Or maybe the sentinel would die from sheer annoyance. Both seemed equally likely at this point.
----------------------------------------------
That night, as Blaidd quietly made camp under the dim silver moon, there was a familiar glow out the corner of his eye. A white figure rested quietly near the edge of his campfire's glow.
The half-wolf bowed his head.
"Mistress Ranni."
"Ah, Blaidd. What a pleasant surprise."
"It is late. What brings you to Limgrave at this hour?"
The snow witch gently pressed her fingertips together, a habit she performed when deep in thought.
"Torrent has chosen a new master. A young Tarnished of no renown. At the behest of his former master, I hath gifted the boy with his spirit summoning bell."
Blaidd blinked.
"The one with the loincloth and the wooden club?"
"I am happy to report he has found himself a pair of trousers," Ranni smiled to herself. "I surmise you have met the boy on your journey."
"I've seen him from afar," Blaidd muttered under his breath. "Your favorite goat-horse's taste in masters may have degraded over the years. The boy clearly lacks a sense of self-preservation."
"There is something to be said for his resolve."
"You mean stubbornness ."
"I suppose you would know a thing or two about that," Ranni smiled. She ignored Blaidd's indignant snort and continued. "By the by, how goes your tasks in Limgrave?"
"Swimmingly. I've heard tell from a merchant that there is a Siofra River Well located in the Mistwood. And also--" Blaidd paused. "--there are whispers that Darriwil was recently seen in the area."
A weighty silence settled between them. Ranni bowed her head, obscuring her face. "I see. Then you will do what must be done?"
Blaidd's throat rumbled with a low growl. "Traitors cannot be suffered to live."
Ranni nodded slowly. "Do what you must. However… you and Darriwil were friends once, no?"
"Once," Blaidd agreed.
"I cannot help but notice you have been rather lonesome since his betrayal," the snow witch continued. "Understandable as that may be, I have rather hoped you would find new companionship on your travels."
Blaidd pushed back the growing irritation in his chest and bowed deeply. "I appreciate your concern. But I am fine."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
Ranni was quiet for several moments before nodding. "Then I wish you a swift and successful hunt, dear step-brother."
Her form slowly faded into a scattering of blue shimmers, leaving Blaidd alone under the dim moon. He sighed and sank heavily next to the campfire. The nights have grown rather cold as of late. Where once the air was filled with Darriwil's crude laughter and obnoxious singing, there was now only silence. The deep scar across Blaidd's back, freshly healed, twinged uncomfortably.
The half-wolf stoked the campfire with a frown.
"I am fine," he repeated to no one in particular.
---------------------------------------
Blaidd would never admit it, but he had always been rather self-conscious when howling at the moon. The entire Mistwood could hear his wolven cries, which was quite the point, but it came with a small smidge of what could only be described as stage fright. Luckily, few dared to laugh at a 10-foot tall wolven warrior. He liked to think that he was rather intimidating, despite the fact that Ranni had reported since childhood that his howls were 'quite adorable.'
She was incorrect of course.
Blaidd paused and strained his ears, listening intently. Silence. From his perch atop this crumbling fort in the Mistwood, he could see and hear the entirety of the forest. But there had been no response to his nightly howls, despite his persistence for the past few days.
Blasted Darriwil, had he grown utterly craven? Even after his betrayal, a Bloodhound Knight was honor-bound to reply in kind. Perhaps that nomadic merchant's information was incorrect after all, and Darriwil wasn't in the area.
Or perhaps you didn't know him as well as you thought. The thought flitted through his head before he shoved it aside with a growl.
His ears perked. There was a quiet rustling from below, accompanied by the dim glow of torchlight. A small figure struggled through the thick bramble of the ruins, with three pale spectral wolves scampering at his heel.
Blaidd watched as the boy peered about nervously. This was the Tarnished lad from the other day. True to Ranni's word, he seemed to have scavenged himself a pair of trousers, though the garment was littered with holes and rips from various sword wounds. It seemed the lad was not lucky enough to find a shirt. The faint torchlight illuminated a canvas of scars carved across his bare back, with many of them looking rather recent. The Lands Between had not been kind to the lad since the day he departed the First Steps.
The spectral wolves at his side circled the lad as they walked, brushing against their flanks against him in a show of comfort. Ranni's handiwork, no doubt. She always had a soft spot for the strays, despite her icy exterior.
Blaidd was surprised when the lad squinted up at the top of the ruins in his general direction and snapped his fingers. Kale sent you, did he? He thought with a snort and leapt down from his perch.
The boy let out a shriek as he landed, fumbling frantically for his weapon. Blaidd squinted. His club had been smashed at some point, leaving him the splintered wooden handle that he now brandished helplessly. He trembled furiously, staring up at the half-wolf who easily dwarfed him in size.
"Pitiful little thing, aren't you?" Blaidd mumbled.
The Tarnished paused, surprised at his apparent lack of murderous intent. He nervously lowered his sorry excuse for a weapon. The three wolves at his side sniffed at Blaidd with no signs of aggression.
"...Are you -- are you the good egg that Kale's been talking about?" he asked.
"Good egg?" Blaidd huffed, offended.
"Well, that's what Kale called you. And you haven't stabbed me yet," the Tarnished offered, slowly regaining his footing. "Can't say the same for most folk I've met so far."
"Kale is a bloody busybody and his word is dubious at best."
"He hasn't stabbed me either."
"Of course not. The dead can't buy his goods."
"I never stay dead." The boy suddenly quieted. He stared up at Blaidd carefully, as though inspecting him for signs of a cruel trick. "Are you going to eat me?"
"Eat you?" Blaidd said incredulously, sounding almost insulted. "There's barely an ounce of meat on those bones!"
The Tarnished's ears turned red and he withdrew his arms to cover his exposed front. He looked ready to bolt. Skittish little thing , Blaidd noted.
"I am not going to eat you," he said gently and kneeled down to speak to the lad. "The name's Blaidd."
The Tarnished quieted again. He looked surprised, as though unaccustomed to being spoken to with such tenderness.
"Nice to meet you," he finally said. "I… I don't recall my name. After waking up."
He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Kale told me to come find you. Said you were boorish and blunt and always looked like a sad sack of potatoes--"
"Oi!"
"--but he said you could probably help me. A-and that I could help you too."
Confusion swam through Blaidd's head. How Kale thought a defenseless Tarnished could aid him was a mystery.
"And how would you be of help?"
"Dunno. What do you need help with?"
Blaidd sighed. This was going nowhere.
"Don't give me that!" The lad pouted indignantly. "Try me. I can be helpful sometimes."
"Alright, alright," Blaidd grumbled, summoning his last reserves of patience. "I am looking for a traitorous man by the name of Darriwil. A Bloodhound Knight. Do you have any inkling of where he may be?"
The lad looked thoughtful. "Is he a wolf like you? That why you've been howling so much?"
"Yes." A bitter taste rose in the back of Blaidd's throat. "Even after his betrayal, he is honor-bound to answer my challenge. A duel to the death."
"I don't think anyone would want to answer a death threat."
"I know Darriwil. He was a prideful and arrogant man. He would answer my challenge if he heard it." Blaidd growled. Did I know him though? Truly? The voice pestered in his mind.
"Were you friends?"
".............."
The Tarnished peered curiously through his silence, but thankfully moved on. "If he is as you described, then maybe this Darriwil hasn't replied simply because he is unable to."
Blaidd paused thoughtfully. "How so?"
"Well perhaps he is underground, where your voice can't reach him. Or he is restrained somehow," the lad mused. "The other day, I stumbled into an Evergaol near Stormhill. It's a magical confinement that traps prisoners within a separate arcane space. I got skewered by a Crucible Knight the moment I stepped foot inside."
Blaidd felt something lurch inside him, a cruel mix of relief and bitterness. Relief in the possibility that Darriwil wasn't avoiding his summons out of cowardice and dishonor. Bitterness in the knowledge that the traitor was still alive.
"If he is imprisoned--" the Tarnished watched him intently.
"--I will kill him," Blaidd said firmly. "Rotting in a cell is no true justice."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"I don't recall asking you to tag along."
The Tarnished lad glanced up from where he was stripping a pair of trousers off an unconscious Godrick soldier. Blaidd sheathed his blade and averted his gaze, not wanting another glimpse of his unwanted companion's smallclothes. The lad let out a frustrated huff and tossed the garment aside.
"It's too big," he complained.
His previous pair of trousers fell apart at the seams as they trekked past the Waypoint Ruins. Each time Blaidd fended off a group of bandits or soldiers, the lad would rummage through their belongings in hopes of finding new clothes. So far he made do with an oversized shirt with a rope tied around his waist, which resulted in him looking like an puffy pastry.
And said puffy pastry kept following Blaidd around like a puppy at his heel.
"I recall Kale selling armor," the half-wolf offered unhelpfully. "You should return to his shop."
"Too expensive. Where do you get your clothes?"
"My friend is a blacksmith."
"Do you think he makes anything in my size?"
"Unlikely. His hands are massive."
"A shame."
Blaidd sighed yet again. He did not agree to be a babysitter to some Tarnished brat.
"Listen mate--" He paused. They needed to decide on a name for the lad sometime. "--You need to stop following me. I work alone."
"I can help!" the Tarnished pressed stubbornly.
"Darriwil is a fierce foe. I cannot fight him and protect you at the same time--"
"--You needn't protect me. I never stay dead." The lad's voice quieted. "I'll just vanish in a poof of gold and wake up in the Church of Ellah again."
Whatever anger Blaidd possessed died in his throat as he stared down at the scrawny young man. He supposed if they parted ways, the lad would be rather helpless on his own. He'd likely run into more of Godrick's men wandering the fields and get killed again. Or worse, captured and grafted. The image of the lad's limbs amputated and attached to whatever monstrosity Godrick fancied made Blaidd's stomach curdle.
"--anyway, having an undying companion at your side is bound to be useful at least. I could be a distraction while you have a go at him. Or maybe I can just carry your bags on the way there--?"
Blaidd let out a deep sigh and turned to face him. The lad instantly shut his mouth.
"Fine. You may come along. Stay close to me and keep yourself out of sight in battle. Alright?"
The boy beamed. "Thank you -- oh thank you! Of course, you don't regret it--!"
The next few moments came suddenly.
A sharp whistling sound pierced the air. Blaidd hardly registered the wet thunk that followed before the Tarnished collapsed to the ground with a gurgle.
Off in the distance, on a nearby cliff, perched the silhouette of several of Godrick's archers.
Blaidd swore loudly and threw himself over his prone companion, shielding them with his thick fur cloak. But it was too little too late. A single fletched arrow stuck out of the lad's throat as he laid wheezing on the grass. Blaidd panicked and fumbled through his bags. He had several healing flasks, and surely stanching boluses for the bleeding--
"Hey, stay with me mate. Keep your eyes on me--"
A small bitter laugh bubbled from the lad's bleeding throat as he stared up at him, as though there was anything remotely humorous about the situation. Blaidd growled as he continued fumbling through his supplies as arrows pelted useless off his heavy cloak.
"Don't fucking laugh. You are going to get the biggest thrashing when this is over. Here, drink this--"
Before Blaidd could touch the flask to his lips, the boy's body exploded into a shower of golden dust. The half-wolf watched, frozen, as the flecks of grace danced through the air and disappeared, leaving nothing behind but an arrow in the grass.
He stood up from the spot where his companion laid moments before, dazed.
Another arrow whizzed past his head as Blaidd grasped his greatsword.