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When Alyrian goes to sit and clear his mind in Royal Wood forest, he finds Sif, curled up, beaten up, and alone at the bottom of a great tree.
"S-Sif? Sif!!"
The wolf raises its head and it's whole demeanor changes. Sif sits up and wags it's tail as hard as it can, its ears are back and it begins to whine.
Alyrian rushes over to Sif, wrapping his arms around the sullied fur.
"Sif your okay!!"
Alyrian dreamt of the Abyss.. And his Mothers descent. But he never dreamt again after that. Its been all nightmares since then.. It's been a while since Artorias said he would return.. No, he promised he would!
And yet, here is Sif, all alone. Without his mother.
Sif whines and nuzzles Alyrian, it's only remnant of it's master. Alyrian holds the wolf, crying gently into it's fur.
"Sif-.. I was worried you were gone-.. Im so glad your okay!"
Alyrian's voice cracks as he holds the wolf, the musty scent of the abyss clings deep in the wolf's fur.. When he pulls back, he observes his hands, mildly blackened. He looks back to Sif, knowing it's from the Abyss.
"Sif.. Where's.. Where is he?"
Sif knew exactly who the boy was asking about, and whined, it's head lowering, tail ceasing to wag. He didn't want to believe the dreams to be true.
But Alyrian understood the sad look in Sif's eyes. His indigo eyes teared up again and his lower lip quivered, voice cracking as he speaks.
"He's.. He's gone... Isn't he?"
The wolf whines again, looking up at Alyrian from it's lowered position. The boy begins to sob gently, and embraces Sif again.
"I-It... It really is just you and me now..."
Sif nuzzles into the boy, they have a moment of mourning for their master and teacher, the one who taught them the joys of life, and that no matter how bad things get, you can continue.
Alyrian, only six years old, has experienced the greatest loss he ever will. He pets Sif lovingly, knowing that had anything happened to Artorias, Sif would go to him.
Alyrian whimpers and harshly swallows his cries. He shallowly sobs, body shaking.
"I promise you.. We will do good by him.. I swear to you, and all of our friends.. I will become strong.. So we will never have to face such a loss ever again.."
Alyrian rubs Sif's ears, his forehead on the young greatwolf's.
Thus begins Alyrian's Journey, he hones his skills. With both sword and shield, Sif loyally by his side through the years. First wielding a blade, he's clumsy, and stumbles around. The years have been unkind to him, and he mastered his blade after years of bleeding and blistered hands.
Ornstein helped train the boy, and aided his ascension into adulthood. As Alyrian went from boy to man, Ornstein couldn't help but see Artorias.
Such a brave, heroic young knight. Honorable, and gallant.
At the age of 21, he begins training the first Abyss Watchers, their fighting style differed from Alyrian, their fighting style erratic and flighty, but effective.
Alyrian is the Captain of the Abyss Watchers. He's the tallest among them, standing at an impressive 10' tall. Sif ages as what was once Royal Wood, transitioned into Darkroot Garden becomes Farron, a poisoned swamp of a time past now..
The old wolf lays curled in a tower, tired and worn. Alyrian comes to visit the old withering wolf.
"You did a good job, Sif.. You aided me for so many years.. You deserve to rest, old friend."
He kneels before the elder wolf like he did when he was a little boy, and reaches his hand out to the wolf, not clad in it's usual gauntlets.
The old wolf raises it's head, shaking as it's old muscles and joints move. It nuzzles it's head against Alyrian's palm.
Alyrian knows Sif is so very old, it can't even get up anymore. His lower lip quivers, and he feels like it was all that while ago, in Royal Wood. Finding Sif curled up and alone at the bottom of that great tree.
He remembers being even smaller, first meeting Sif. Lovingly held by his mother, gently introduced to the wolf, who immediately accepted him. Licked his forehead, and gave him a cow lick. The baby boy sputtered, but started to laugh.
He remembers it all so clearly, vividly. How he wishes to be that small again. To be with Artorias, in bed with tiny Sif curled up with him, while he lays on Artorias, being held and hummed to. What he would give for that time in his life again..
His lower lip quivers as he embraces the aged wolf, cradling it's large head in his lap.
"Oh Sif-.."
His voice cracks as he runs his hands through the wirey, oiled fur. Patchy in some places. The old wolf sighs, comforted by its life long best friend. Alyrian weeps ever so softly. Sif's fur has become thin, and lost it's thickness, it's limbs have become weak and useless.
While the wolf's body was huge, it could not support itself any longer.
Sif could no longer get up anymore, any attempt would have the wolf crashing back to the floor- if Sif even could come to stand anymore, that is. Alyrian watched as Sif aged and greyed, becoming the thin, feeble bodied wolf Alyrian sees now.
Alyrian caresses the wolf ever so lovingly. His best friend- his whole cause. So aged and withered. It saddened him deeply. His most loyal friend, from the very beginning of his life, here to the very end of it's own..
His eyes wept tears, they rolled down his cheeks, and dropped into Sif's thin fur. The wolf whines, knowing how heartbroken Alyrian is by it's age, but these things can't be helped, nor stopped.
"I don't want you to go-.. I-I know your so tired-... Thank you so much.. You aided me more than i could have ever imagined on our journey.. May you rejoin him amongst the stars.."
Alyrian places a kiss to the wolf's aged fur, he remembers being so small, burying his face into the wolf's fur and it being so soft and warm.
It still is, in a way. Just- not the way Alyrian would remember it. The old wolf nuzzles him gently, the best it can. Alyrian sniffles and sits back, Sif licks away his tears with it's old, dry tongue.
He sputters a sad, heart broken little laugh. His bangs stick up straight and he rubs Sifs's ears.
"Oh, Old Friend.. I'll keep watch over these lands when you are gone- The Watchdogs of Farron shan't faulter as long as i am alive.. And your name shall never be forgotten."
Alyrian promises, resting his forehead against the elder wolf's. Sif's eyes close, and a big sigh leaves it. For a moment, Alyrian thought he could hear a voice, old and weak.
'I will always love you, Alyrian.. Your mother, my master, would be so very proud of you..'
Alyrian chokes back a sob as Sif's body eases, it's breathing slows to a stop. Sif.. Is gone.
For a while, Alyrian mourns the loss of his world, for the fourth time in his life, its come crashing down unto him again. He had nothing left of the old world anymore.
Cedric, the seventh Abyss Watcher snoops from the ledge, hidden by a disappearing wall. Hands over his mouth, and tears rolling down his own cheeks. He has his affections for his captain, however unreciprocated they may be.
Cedric loved Alyrian, and Alyrian knows this.
'Not here.. Not now.'
He said, before leaving Cedric alone with his guilt. His yearning only deepened, and fueled him to do better. He fought the hardest, was the most ferocious.
Despite everything, Alyrian would always be so strong. Have a smile, and love just as fierce as he always has. But.. Who knows how he'll fare, now that his last remaining piece of home is now gone.
Alyrian pets the wolf, as if seeking comfort in the still, warm body. Maybe hes trying to accept it- or lie to himself.. One May never know what he was thinking that day.
And then, he loses all of his Watchers. All perish to become cinder to flame.. Leaving Alyrian all alone.
The last Abyss Watcher, all by his lonesome. To watch Farron become more poisoned, as Ghru, slugs, and muck overtake the land.
These lands used to be Oolacile, you know?
Alyrian, The Lone Wolf of Farron, keeper of The Watchdogs Of Farron covenant.
Until the Watcher's rise again, some corrupted and consumed by the Abyss. No longer themselves- but red eyed fiends that possess the bodies of his colleagues.
Only few remain remotely sane, fighting their Abyss corrupted brethren, preventing further spread of the dark.
They are the remainder of ages past, when the lands weren't as they are now. A painful truth of times passage, as even Artorias' name faded from the world.
Alyrian dreams of the past, what was, and will never be again. What he had, and will never have again. He dreams of Anor Londo, in its dreamy light. Cuddled close to Artorias, oh so tiny.
He hears his voice, clear as a spring day, warm as the sun that shines in the sky.
'Good morning, my dearest tiny one..'
The small boy nuzzles closer to his mother, trying to be as close as possible. He giggles, as Artorias kisses his little fluffy head.
'Hehe! Good morning momma..'
Artorias nuzzles him back with his nose, burying it in the soft, fluffy jet black hair Alyrian possesses, the same as his, save for that Artorias' hair was long and silky, glossy. The fluffyness comes from his father- whom he's never met..
Alyrian reminds Artorias of his father, with the same fire in his eyes, and heart of gold, Artorias just knows Alyrian will do great things in this world. He can feel it in his bones..
Sif yawns and realizes that it's two favorite people are awake, and hops onto the bed after a good stretch. Artorias laughs as Alyrian yells in joy for Sif.
And then, Alyrian awakens. Tears streaming down his face, a sharp cry of; No! Don't go! As he reaches out to no one. He is alone, on the cold hard ground.
He wishes he was stuck with the nightmares that plagued him when he was tiny.. Too tiny to know.
Everything is the same- the swamp still murky, foggy, poisonous. Terrible. He sits, holding himself. Nothing will be as it was. And for that.. He resents the flame. Lord Gwyn himself, as well.
If it wasn't for him and his poor, selfish decisions, Alyrian would still have his mother. He would still have Sif- and live in Anor Londo. But we never get what we want.
Alyrian scouts his swamp land, and Crucifixion Woods, loyally keeping his promise and duty to Sif, who's been long gone by now. Patrolling the muck and waters for any trespassers that may dare disturb these lands slumber.
A tale as old as time. A man, desperate for what the world was. Mourning yesterday's past, yearning for sunshine.