This town is the grave of many great heroes who dared try to change the world. Attempting to break the cycle by killing enough undead to become very powerful. This did not work. The cycles have been repeated hundreds of times since the time of Drangleic. Even longer since Lordran. Now, the ashen mist is creeping into the world. Will it return the world to its dormant state, ending all cycles, or will it simply kill all who enter it until it is time for a new cycle to begin?

Brennen walks solemnly from the old man's house, thinking of what is to come. Ash turning people into trees? What is going on with this world...? Eh. It's whatever. I hope this means that these cycles will be over with once and for all. I'm tired of this undead curse. Feeling the scar upon his head, Brennen remembered all the hopelessly undead hollows he'd slain in the name of 'curing the curse'. As Brennen walked the hollowed streets of this town, he felt safer. It almost felt familiar to him. Like he'd been here before...? Or maybe he'd been raised here. No matter what, whether or not he remembers why, but Brennen feels at home here.
Brennen traverses through the streets that he is mysteriously able to navigate, and rounds a curve that he knew what it led to, for some reason. The houses lessened and opened up to a clearing. It had a ring of rocks that holds the resting place of one of the few remaining bonfires of the Cycle Times. Brennen walks slowly up to it, fearful of what it might do. He reaches out his hand and attempts to light it. Nothing happens for a solid twenty seconds. He lets out a huge sigh of relief and looks around. There's a fence about twenty yards out from the bonfire, a cave almost directly to his left, and a gate to the fence just to the right of directly in front of him. Brennen unsheathed the weapons he'd taken from the old man and examines them. Then tests his memory of fighting, nimbly swinging around the blades in what looked like an intricate dance missing a dodging and weaving partner. After which, Brennen habitually sat down in front of the stone cold bonfire and rested as he pondered what to do next.

Zihark walked down the road idly examining the weapons he had acquired form that strange old man, he wondered who that man really was. Zihark looked up to the distinctive sound of metal cutting through air, somewhat warily he noticed the man playing with his weapons had the bloodstained forehead that those of the darksigners had. But those had all gone mad hadn't they? "Hale, still sane are we?" Zihark cautiously asked the man wielding the strange curved blades, keeping his out dagger and rapier clearly in sight. The man's blades were nearly like those of a scimitar but distinctively different, Zihark wondered where he had gotten them, perhaps from the same house he had just left.

Brennen saw concern, so he sheathed his swords and raised his hands defensively. [color=9999ff]"Aye. Kept my sanity. Have to fight for it every once in a while, but I've only killed one innocent, and it's been my prime motivation to keep control. Who might you be, friend?" Brennen asks the stranger about himself. He understands the concern, but turns back and sits back down at the bonfire in a position to which he has used for years as an undead. He looks at the bonfire's lack of light and smiles a little again, raising the hood he had on. "Tis good that this curse is finally through with, eh? I must apologize for worrying you by my appearance. I'll be keeping my hood on from now on so as to not inspire fear in those we wish to speak with or anger in those who lost loved ones to the curse or its crazed ex-undead. My name is Brennen. I used to be accursed by this wretched thing upon my forehead, but now I search for purpose in my now-limited life. Though, hearing a recent old man's words, I'm inclined to help return the world to its undisturbed state, where this light and dark don't exist. In grey ashes." Brennen leaned forward to the bonfire's resting place. Touching the metal iron that used to be scalding with heat, trailing down to the ash at its base, but along the way, it tilted. Curious, he tugged on it. The sword-shaped iron came out. Brennen was shocked. He never knew that bonfires looked like this. "Well, this is news to me."

Fuaric messed with the straps on his left arm, fixing the gauntlet. His greatsword and shield were strapped to his back for the time, having seen no danger here on the the road he traveled. He pondered how he even came to come here. It felt as if he was called here yet why and how he could not answer himself. His train of thought was forgotten once he came to what seemed to be a bonfire where two others were conversing. He remained silent, unsure of these two. They did not seem to be insane but even if they were sane, it was better to be cautious then overly trusting.

"Names Zihark, you really think you can change this world, you may have been lucky enough to survive the curse but that doesn't mean you can do anything special." He peered curiously at Brennen when he pulled the sword out, "Is that not supposed to happen?" Zihark asked curiously. He had never really wondered if the sword in the bonfires was usable, he didn't like the things in general. It seemed like getting to close to one might just give you the curse as well. A frightening thought. Then Zihakr whirled, blades at the ready, as he heard the crunch of metal on the ground and saw a heavily armoured knight. "I don't suppose you came from that old man's house did you? Seems like a little too much coincidence for me." he said uneasily. Three poeple in the same place probally coming from the same house, one of them a darksigner no less, certainly something was changing.

Nodding to the man who calls himself Zihark and the newcomer, simply stating, "Brennen." Placing the bonfire's sword back in its place, Brennen put a palm on each of his sabre hilts as he addressed Zihark's question. "Well, I'd never tried pulling on one before. It was a little more... Useful. It wouldn't have made sense to try to mess with 'em while they were our lifeline. Our homes." Staring at the bonfire, Brennen seems to reminisce for a few moments, before dragging himself back into the present. "Look, I don't think I can do something special because I survived the curse. I don't think that anything I've done has given me any means to be special or conquer anything. I just have determination and direction, and I'm going to take it and run with it. As far and as fast as I can. Because this-" pulling off his hood to point at what used to be his darksign "-is forcing a time limit on me. No matter how strong I am, this will always keep me in its grasp. Until the day its madness consumes me and someone has to kill me to release my soul from its endless tragedy. I don't want to die just yet, because the world finally has a chance to heal. To go back into resting. To end the cycle that is the curse. The curse on this world. I've seen too many hollow out, forced to feed on any living souls. Too many lose their minds and become empty shells. Powerful, yet empty. I just want all this suffering to finally end. And I'll do everything I can with my sane mind to help it." At that, Brennen pulls his hood up again and sits in a resting position in front of the lopsided bonfire stick as he contemplates this situation and centers himself again.

Fuaric had little idea of who these two men were, though he assumed they must of both came from the same place like he did for one referenced the old man that had gifted the odd items he now was adorned in. His memories were a blur but when the other man showed the mark, he knew what that was, a curse, a blight on the accursed land, something that did not let men live in peace but tormented them for the rest of their lives until insanity took hold and they were nothing more then a husk of flesh that fought everything that came near them. He was unsure if there was a means of stopping what was happening but this was now his only purpose, to find the end of this and break the yoke of the world finally. Or perhaps he was just a small piece and die along the way, ultimately it would not matter for both gave him a purpose.

"Then we should press on shouldn't we?" Fuaric finally said, ",No point sitting and waiting at this dull bonfire. What we seek will not come to us. To find the means of an end we must seek it ourselves."

"Aye I suppose we should at that, no one ever got something done by sitting around." Zihark said in response to the as of yet un-named man and began walking forward past the now slightly ruined bonfire. "Come on then," he said gesturing for them to follow, "Maybe you can hit something with that bonfire stick of yours, never know what might happen we might even end this cycle of ours." he said with an encouraging grin. Zihark led the way though he had no idea what was ahead. Then again it seemed he never did, no doubt it was armed to the teeth though. Zihark readied his sword and kept his eyes roaming, though he supposed the other two might not follow him. After all trust was sparse these days, no matter, he had been alone for long enough it would be no knew thing.

Brennen nods and grunts in agreement. Deciding it's better than nothing, he grabs the bonfire-sword and holds it with both hands. It looks like it's a rusty curved sword. "Eh, never know when you're gonna need another weapon. Plus, it's a little reminder that the Time of Bonfires are over. Anything that can potentially stave off insanity is help. So, where do you want to go? There's a cave over there that supposedly has a crossroad to other major cities, along with that ashy area over on that end of the land. Then there's the city's front gates over there. No idea what's over there, though. Probably just nature and stuff."

Zihark shrugged, "Going into a city doesn't seem wise at this point, at best we might find an ally, at worst we trap ourselves in a city of unknown dangers. I intend to head towards that cave and find where it leads, at any enemies we find there won't be human." Zihark said gesturing ahead.

Brennen shrugs, not really caring the direction. "Aye. Don't know where all the loonies are. Cities do have the highest likelihood of harbouring those with popped darksigns. I do remember a very accurate comparison long ago, near the middle of this cycle's Light portion. It said that the cycles are like legends within themselves. Each one being similar to the last, but a little different, because the next telling will have lost a little bit of information from the last telling, so it has to be tweaked. Therefore, the 'old legends' have taken place in a place similar to this one, most likely in this position of the planet, but everything had different names, shapes, colors, and beings. Fascinating idea, really." Deciding to take the lead, and giving the others the safety of not having the darksign-survivor behind them, Brennen heads for the mouth of the cave.

Zihark nodded, glad that Brennen had taken the lead. It was always good to have a bit of warning before one was set upon by a fleshing devouring beast. He listened silently to Brennen's triade, mildly intrested but making no comment, intead opting to follow him and keep an eye out for any danger.