The bonfire sputtered and popped as the lone undead sat by it's warmth—hunched and dressed from head-to-toe in armor—his face twisted into the wicked image of a hollow.

${name} was amidst strange beings, in a strange land. The flow of time itself was convoluted; with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavered, and relations shifted and obscured.

Death had taken his humanity but assisting others would restore it, he grabbed his white soapstone and etched his sign upon the floor.

It didn't take long for him to feel it... he was being summoned...

The knight stood up, armor clinking as he did so: a white phantom, ready to assist the host of this world in any way he could.

${name} looked up and saw a young woman, a pendant hanged around her neck and she wore some tattered robes with a hood, the usual attire of a pyromancer.

He gave her a quick bow as greeting.

"Ah, hello I'm Anya of the Great Swamp." she said while returning the gesture "I should probably tell you... I didn't make you to cross the gap between our worlds for assistance in battle."

Anya took a deep breath as she seemed to gather her courage, she approached him slowly; a lock of dark hair fell limply about her pale face.

"Forgive if I ask you this, but would you mind helping me in a different way?" she said.

He quietly nodded as if trying to say 'I'm listening.'

"I-I want to feel something, anything..." she brought her hand to his face, cloth wraps and beaded bracelets decorated her arm "I'm sorry... you must think me very strange."

'You seek a connection.' was what he tried to express when he clasped both his hands together.

"Yes... this is a bleak world, and us fellow accursed need to try to find confort in any way we can." she said while caressing his ghostly face "Wouldn't you agree? Hehehe..." she laughed to herself.

${name} grabbed his orange soapstone and wrote down a message on the floor 'Woman ahead, try thrusting.'

She read the message and said "I like the way you think."