I awoke to dreary midday light pushing against my eyelids.
My name is Ashemma. This is the story of how I died.
My muscles ached and my bones protested as I struggled to my feet. I felt cold stone under my fingers, gripping clumsily at it for support. I strained my eyes against the light, trying to figure out just where I was. When I finally got a look at my environment, a vast, disorganized graveyard loomed back at me. Headstones haphazardly dotted the landscape; stone coffins, some empty, some yet closed, looked as if they'd been smashed into the terrain by a giant, some on the ground, some buried against hill faces. Skeletal trees—naked maples, perhaps?—stretched their great leafless branches into the fog-laden air, dominating their respective territories and brooking no challengers.
'What am I doing here?' I thought to myself. I couldn't remember how I got there. I couldn't remember much at all; at the time, even my name escaped me.
I pulled myself out of the coffin I'd apparently been left in, nearly faceplanting on the cold earth. I felt the cold in my bones, such was the chill in the air. I pushed through the morning mist, and groped at the walls, and started making my way down the only path visible to me: towards the light, through a shallow stream. As I walked, I kept trying to remember what had happened, where I was, *who* I was.
Hitting my head on a root jutting out of the hill face shook me out of my reverie. I grunted and tried to shake the pain away as I turned the corner.
Something moved in the periphery and my head snapped up in surprise.
The trials and tribulations of Ashemma, Deprived Unkindled, as she seeks to unravel the mysteries of Lothric and remember who she is. (Deprived is an unofficial Dark Souls fan comic.) [WARNING: Partial/Obscured Nudity]