Sometimes, the saddest deaths happen outside of cutscenes.
I was wading through the vile swamp of Blighttown, looking to get some Pyromancy training from Quelana of Izalith. I had just left the bonfire for the last leg of the journey when I saw a strange man standing a short distance away.
At first, I was worried when the man started moving toward me that I had been invaded without the game telling me. But as the figure lurched into my circle of light, I recognised his tattered clothing. And yet, I didn't fully realise who I was fighting until he lit a fireball in his hand.
Laurentius.
For those not in the know, Laurentius is a Pyromancer from the Great Swamp. After rescuing him from the sewers, he appears at Firelink Shrine and offers to teach you the rudiments of Pyromancy. Unlike many other characters in Dark Souls, who heap scorn on the player, Laurentius is a geniunely nice guy. The spells he sold had gotten me out of many a tight spot. But what was he doing down here, mindlessly trying to kill me?
And then I remembered. I'd shown Laurentius a Pyromancy spell I'd obtained from Quelana. Naturally curious, he asked me where I found it, and naturally I told him. I never expected him to run in to problems in the depths of Blighttown. I never expected the darksign to claim him as it claimed so many others. And yet here he was, a sad remmnant of his former self, having got so close to where Quelana could be found.
By telling him about Quelana, I had doomed Laurentius. He died at my hand in that filthy place without fanfare, without recognition and without dignity. He deserved better.
