Chapter Text
The first time Blaidd noticed the Tarnished, they were galloping frantically through the ruins dotting the verdant expanse of Mistwood, the quick hooves of their steed flitting around massive Runebears and expertly, albeit panickedly, dodging the massive swings of dense claws at their form. His ears flicked to the heavy beat of hooves in the soil and the earthy smell of the forest being disrupted by their (and the several Runebears that followed) movements.
Although it was a brief flash of the silver glint of armor, Blaidd’s sharp senses quickly took them in, noting their hurried movements from his place on top of the ruins. He hummed to himself, making note of them in his mind.
The next time Blaidd had noticed the Tarnished, and they appeared to be far more collected, more purposive. They resigned from riding upon their mount, and instead took upon crouching into the foliage. They must’ve heard his vocalization before, in addition to sharing that information with the merchant residing at the church of Ellah in Limgrave, because here they were, sneaking around the ruins, looking for the source of the howling haunting throughout the forest. The tarnished then snapped their fingers just audibly enough so his pointed ears could pick up the sound.
“Who goes there?” Blaidd whispered in a hushed tone as he dropped down to the ground with just enough care as to not wake the slumbering Runebear near him. Blaidd’s gaze took in the form before him, who no longer was a bright and frantic flash of armor in his mind but instead now a sturdy warrior. They looked capable enough, though they paled in the shadow of his looming, furry shoulders. Wearing the armor from the nearby soldiers as well as carrying their uniform blades in tow, Blaidd surmised that they were greener than the foliage that overtook Mistwood.
The Tarnished calmly shared their name. Despite their desperate, and frankly ragged, appearance, their name was melodic and strong. Promising. "The merchant." They muttered, "Said we would get along..." They whispered in a lower tone, sounding slightly embarrassed after that admission.
“Kalé sent you, did he? Ever the bloody busybody.” He let out a great sigh, “Hmm. Maybe to him, you don't seem so strange. The name's Blaidd, by the way.”
The Tarnished looked around the ruins, clearly confused as to why he was in a place such as this: an overgrown, obscure corner of the forest.
“I'm looking for a knight who goes by ‘Darriwil.’ He fled somewhere nearby. Or so I've heard. Come tell me if you find him before I do. I can offer you ample reward.” He crossed his arms.
“What is your definition of a reward?” Which was the longest trail of words the Tarnished had shared with him thus far.
“I am willing to cede runes or valuable wares, if that is what you are wondering. And a favor to call upon, in addition.”
The Tarnished nodded and whistled, deeming the offers of the deal acceptable. Their steed (not a horse, Blaidd then noted, its protruding horns made the steed look more beastly and ethereal) he saw them atop earlier materialized under them in a bright display of blue magic.
“I know of him. I will meet you there. South Limgrave.” Blaidd gave the Tarnished a nod in response, a brief acknowledgement of their unsaid contract.
When Blaidd met the Tarnished in Limgrave, it was at the Evergoal atop the steep hill in the Southernmost part of Limgrave. The Tarnished stood at the edge of the prison, the vibrant blue of the magic jail reflecting dully off of the Tarnished’s worn armor. Their hand was raised to hover just over the glowing prison, not daring to touch it. Blaidd approached them, but they must’ve been too enamored by the sorcery to notice him.
“Darriwil is nothing but a traitor. And in need of a fitting end to his tale.” Blaidd settled to stand beside them, looking out at the jail. The Tarnished jolted, surprised at his silent movements, before nodding in agreement.
“Let us go.” They pushed out a hand into the barrier, and it resisted the force, before it enveloped them, hungrily swallowing them and the following half-wolf into the deep azure sorcery of the Evergaol, where Darriwil laid waiting.
The Evergaol was a place out of time and space, frozen away from the sands of past, present, and future as an eternal punishment for inexcusable sins. Blaidd and the Tarnished approached the gash in the earth that seeped a bleeding purple into the Evergaol’s cell.
Through it crawled the bestial form of the Bloodhound knight, shuffling on spindly limbs, a heavy breathing echoing through its helmet. Darriwil, or what was left of him, seemed lost to the animal of insanity. Such was inevitable in the Evergaols. Once honorable soldiers were left to suffer, their minds growing ever gangrenous with solitude and degenerating in their skulls until they reached a slush. No longer did this figure resemble Darriwil. It was instead a ghoul wearing his armor; a feral wisp of Darriwil’s glory.
Its head twitched erratically and it huffed deeply; a warped metallic sound, as if sniffing out and investigating the two warriors in front of it. It wasted no time before swiftly lunging at the Tarnished with its curved blade outstretched. The Tarnished attempted to retaliate and deflect the sword as it neared dangerously towards them. Before it did, however, Blaidd was quick to shove the animalistic knight away from the Tarnished, and swung at it with his massive, two-handed greatsword.
It seemed momentarily stunned by the half-wolf’s strikes, and the Tarnished took its dazed state to prod at the knight with their longsword. When it regained its sense, it clawed wildly in front of it, and although luckily Blaidd’s companion rolled out of the way, one stray swipe of its talons landed on Blaidd, and the beast carved through the front of his breastplate as easily as if it was a heated knife through ice.
Blaidd was sure he could take the pressure though, as long as the attention was off of his more ill-equipped and comparatively weaker friend. He began striking at the knight, attempting to catch it in a chain of staggering and thus leaving it vulnerable to the Tarnished's attacks. The sprays of blood splattered from the beast across his torn breastplate and stained his fur in gore-ridden clumps. His strategy did seem to work for a short time, though the knight’s unpredictable movements eventually broke his stance and he fell backwards, tumbling to the hard stone of the prison and hitting it with an audible groan as his greatsword clashed and skittered away from him against the masonry.
The Bloodhound knight took the opportunity to pounce upon him, reaching for his throat with rusted claws and letting out a deep, inhuman growl above him. Blaidd felt the rank breath of the brute gather in the tense space between them. Before it had the chance to let Blaidd’s blood pour from his neck, though, the Tarnished landed one last blow to the knight, piercing its helmet at the top of its head and through its skull. The tip blood soaked blade shone beneath the knight’s chin, dripping a crimson stream onto Blaidd's armor. The beast then slumped over next to the exhausted half-wolf, its remaining life force slowly pooling around the wound as its limbs twitched. Finally, Darriwil was put to rest, as was the creature that was once the proud knight.
After the pair returned from the now-retired Evergaol, the Tarnished approached him, heaving silver armor glinting red from the sun's rays hitting the spilt blood of the Bloodhound Knight Darriwil. Their equally as bloodied longsword was being sheathed at their hip with a sharp hiss.
“...Right,” Blaidd said between fatigued gasps for air. “There you are. Had to,” Maw wide as he gulped in breaths, “work for it, but it's done. Don't say I'm not a man of my word. Here's your prize.”
Blaidd extended one large, clawed hand, to which the Tarnished met eagerly with both hands cupped. He dropped a somber smithing stone; a sought after crafting good, into theirs, his hand briefly brushing against (and dwarfing) theirs. They quickly pocketed the item, and looked expectantly back up at the half-wolf warrior.
“Oh yes, I should say - If you venture north to Raya Lucaria, and come across a venerable blacksmith who's a little on the large side… Tell him I sent you. And he'll be sure to treat you right. I owe you one, I reckon.” Blaidd’s mouth upturned in a pathetic sort of smile, though he knew it to look like a snarl.
The Tarnished nodded understandingly, before adding: “Good fighting, Blaidd. I look forward to our further cooperation.” After which they summoned their steed under them.
Blaidd was caught off guard by the praise, as minuscule and rather insignificant as it was. He coughed and muttered a ‘likewise,’ before nodding, “Well, ah, that's enough chit-chat for now. It's time we parted ways.”
Before his mind righted itself, the Tarnished was gone in the rolling, grassy hills of Limgrave and left Blaidd alone with his thoughts and the wind.
The next time Blaidd reunited with the Tarnished, it was at the Three Sisters. He was tasked with continuing his ward’s quest to dismantle the Golden Order, and instructing the Tarnished of their ever-evolving role in her cleverly woven web of unfolding events.
Although Blaidd’s physical body stood in his usual place in the fog laden outskirts of Mistwood and beneath the dappled light under the trees, his spectral form was projected in his ward’s residence in the Three Sisters. His ghostly projection was surrounded by spiraling bookcases and papers strewn about on various desks and surfaces.
Through this vision, he saw the Tarnished approaching him, assumedly because they now served Ranni’s quest. Though his sight was somewhat obscured through the lens of this form, Blaidd noticed the small light brighten behind their eyes at the sight of him, and he couldn't help the soft tug of the corners of his mouth, urging him to smile. Blaidd felt it must have been fated for them to work under mistress Ranni, and work for her goals, ever since their invigorating battle in Limgrave. They fought so valiantly alongside him, and their cooperation with one another felt natural and smooth. Blaidd supposed Kalé was right.
“Ahh, long time, friend. Blaidd, if you’ve forgotten,” He knew they had not, probably just as he had not forgotten them and the rush of battle running through his veins at the battle at the Evergaol, swords swinging and metal clanging and- “Glad to have you in the service of mistress Ranni.”
“Likewise, Blaidd.” Came their short reply, and then, “What is your part in all of this?”
“Yes, well. Getting right to business… I’m still in Limgrave. In the Mistwood ruins. The eternal city of Nokron lies somewhere at the bottom of this land. I’m planning to go below through the well in the Mistwood. See if I can’t find the road to Nokron from there…”
“Going to Nokron so swiftly?” Their inquiries surprised Blaidd. He was used to taking orders in the shadows and carrying them out without question, not being the subject of such interest. That privilege laid for his ward; for the people above him and pulling his leash.
“Yes, I’m afraid time’s everlasting force stalls for nothing, and the window for opportunity may soon close before we can realize it.” A deep sigh echoed from his ghostly body throughout the tower’s room.
The Tarnished sat in silence for a brief moment, seemingly stuck in thought. “Mistwood, correct? Would you like to meet there before we descend?”
Blaidd was startled further by this particular question, and it gave his mind significant pause. He was not expecting a diversion of his plans, yet he found himself speaking before his thoughts caught up to him.
“Of course.”
The Tarnished nodded, “South of the ruins, from there we can go to the well,” and they carried on throughout the tower. The magic keeping his phantom there began to fade, fulfilling its purpose, and soon Blaidd, the tangible one, was left feeling rather awkward and confused in the mossy cobbled walls of the Mistwood ruins.
When Blaidd finally found the Tarnished south of his ruins, they were sitting silently around a small fire with their helmet laying beside them. Their steed, who he had heard his mistress Ranni refer to as Torrent to others, stood nearby and calmly grazed among the bushes of Rowa berries. The flickering flames licked at their face and lit their features in a soft glow. Their hair framed their face in a halo that glowed in the light of the fire. If Blaidd had any drop of artistic blood running through his veins he would pull out a canvas and eternalize them in oils and pigments. Instead, he sat down next to them; the only sound between them was the crack of the fire and the metal-on-metal of his armor shuffling as he found a comfortable pose.
His body was huge compared to theirs, and he hunched his back over somewhat to accommodate their size, or at least attempting to appear less…hulking. More approachable.
It was a moment before Blaidd interrupted the quiet that had flowered between them: “Are you resting here?”
“Yes.” An obvious answer to an obvious question.
“My friend, might I inquire for what purpose?” He pushed further, after a quiet moment.
They did not speak, and instead rose to their feet, and walked towards the pack adorning their horned steed, reaching in, and then pulling out a smaller sack. They sat back down at the fire and he sniffed the air as they reached into the cloth bag, a pleasant smell erupting from the pouch. The Tarnished pulled out several pieces of bread and dried strips of meat, then undid the tie holding the bag together and began unraveling it into a square of cloth, before placing it gingerly onto the soft earth. The Tarnished then placed the pieces of food on the cloth, and then looked up to Blaidd without words.
Blaidd looked at the food, and then back to the Tarnished, half-expecting them to say something, but instead they just nodded; the gentle flicker of the fire still lighting their eyes.
They wanted to share their rations. With him. He felt embarrassment rise underneath the shag of his fur at such a simple yet gracious gesture.
They seemed to pick up on his hesitancy to eat their food, even if it was just bread, jerky, and fruit, and reached to break off a piece of the loaf. The Tarnished took a good bite off of the piece, and then handed it to the hunched over half-wolf.
“You’re sure?” He asked them once more, this time verbally. They responded by keeping the bread in their hand in offering to him; blinking in wait. Blaidd acquiesced, accepting the offering and quietly eating the torn piece of bread. Between bites, he spoke their name. They turned to him from their own piece of bread, of which they were ravenously tearing into.
“Do you partake in these proclivities often?” He mumbled between bites, “I mean, would you not rather set up your camp around less secluded areas, for safety or convenience?” Blaidd’s ears tilted towards the Tarnished.
“It is quiet. I like it.” Came their straightforward answer, muffled somewhat by their chewing. They then reached over to grab a large piece of the dried meat, motioning with their other hand for Blaidd to open up his own. He reached out to meet their hands with one opened one, and they dropped the meat into his grasp. He held the jerky in his hands and looked back to the fire, feeling the warmth pervade his fur and seep into his muscles.
“Thank you.” He was not sure what he was thanking them for.