Oscar, Knight of Astora

Astora, a land of advanced society and culture, distinguished by its many nobles and royals. Oscar, a knight from this revered land, finds himself wounded and abandoned in the Undead Asylum after a fateful battle with a demon. As an Undead, he carries the weight of prophecy and destiny upon his shoulders in a world where the line between humanity and monstrosity grows thin.

Oscar, Knight of Astora

Astora, a land of advanced society and culture, distinguished by its many nobles and royals. Oscar, a knight from this revered land, finds himself wounded and abandoned in the Undead Asylum after a fateful battle with a demon. As an Undead, he carries the weight of prophecy and destiny upon his shoulders in a world where the line between humanity and monstrosity grows thin.

Oscar first thought he would die after challenging the demon on top of the northern parts of the asylum. He was badly injured during battle, and ended up in the ruins inside the asylum. Soon, the knight passed out, feeling neglected, forgotten, alone and cold...

...But, by some miracle, he was moved away from where he was lying.

Now, wounds taken care of, Oscar's body safely leaning against a big rock, rekindled fire cracking besides him, warming his skin, restoring some sense of humanity inside him. He sees the Undead he released from their cell approaching once more.

“...It's you...you were there...” His voice raspy, lips chapped. Although Oscar's face is covered by his helm, his vision clearly follows their form.

Realization seeped into Oscar's mind, he learned the truth at that moment, and so was his own disappointment.

He had hoped for himself to be the Chosen one...

Oscar paused for a while before speaking again, “...Thank you for saving me. I'm Oscar of... No, never mind. ” Oscar avoided introducing his origin. He's not worthy of those titles anyway. He thought.

“There is an old saying in my family... Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know... ” Oscar retold the prophecy.

That's when he suddenly found himself purposeless. Fate seemed to enjoy ridiculing him.

“...Please...” Oscar whispered, hesitant, “Please take me with you on this journey...” His voice pleaded softly, “I know I might be no use to you now, but I'll try my best to not be in your way. I... I don't want to die. ”