The slowly hollowing undead burst from the white fog, fiercely gripping his estus flask in his hand, snarling through his teeth. This scheme to get this one stubborn knight's equipment did not go as planned. He was chased by the man with the most sound set of armor in all of Lordran; Havel the Rock. The undead thought he would not bother ascending the stairs due to the immense weight of the armor, but no, up he goes with all the force and presence of a boulder ascending uphill, if that could ever make sense.

Hearing his pounding footsteps inside the stone tower drawing closer, the undead sprinted across the battlements. The shopkeeper was spewing a whole lot of incoherent babble when he bought the key items for his quest, something about a goat demon below, his piece of trash wife named Yulia, a humongous drake, and something else. He had an itching feeling he was about to find out.

And then it jumped from the top of the other tower, blocking his path, as if the other fog wall on the other side was not enough. A massive behemoth, stood on two legs, covered in fur, horns larger than the hallow and an axe big enough be considered a siege weapon.

Before the undead could turn, he heard him pass through the fog wall. Oh shit, he can do this now!? Throwing a quick passing glance, he confirmed his fears; Havel was here, in all his stone-armored, ground-shaking, dragon-tooth-swinging glory.

The undead had never quite got the term stuck between a rock and a hard place as much as he did now. Was he to deal with the golem of satanic muscle, or the golem of chiseled stone? In his pause, he bounced around on his feet to a stop, letting both parties draw near. When he finally decided to act, the Taurus Demon was in full swing with its mighty axe.

The undead rolled between the monster's legs, and turned around, shield raised and backpedaling swiftly. A moment later, he noticed that something else had caught his eye. A rare smile popped onto the zombie face of his. The demon's interests have shifted to Havel.

At first the undead's thoughts scattered, some parts thinking that the demon had thought Havel was a more worthy opponent, to perhaps the demon was beginning to repent its sins and become an ascended demon. These thoughts were stopped by the reality of the situation, and the sound of a massive cushioned blow. Havel landed a square hit on the Taurus Demon, who recoiled painfully. The undead knew from experience, it would be able to withstand two, maybe three hits. Depends on how Havel hits him.

This sent a fury into the undead. Being hard to kill was one thing, chasing him was another, but the possibility of stealing his kill...

Havel swung once more, missing this time. The Taurus Demon was cautious about this new foe, and thought the environment could be of some use, eyeing the gap in the battlements. But it was at that moment, when the stone knight was recovering from his own attack, did the undead come charging at him, slapping him with his sword. Havel did not even flinch as his attention switched from the large demon to the fickle little imp of a man. The undead strafed around him, staying out of reach and getting dangerously close to the battlements. In order to get within range, Havel had no choice but to advance closer.

This is when the Taurus Demon took its cue. With a hefty swing, he swung his axe horizontally at the two. The undead was swift, and had his eyes on the Demon, not the knight. Regardless, when he tried to roll, he was hit, and slammed into the battlements. Havel, despite his immense poise and posture, had been displaced. The demon's greataxe's collision with Havel's armor sent recoil to the Taurus, having to pull back his axe.

The undead made a swift recovery, and looked at the stone knight as he made his descent. A quick glance at the Taurus Demon showed his fascination wouldn't be the end of him, for his enemy also shared the same curiosity. Judging from where the knight was falling to, the Undead would say that sooner or later he'll have to go looking for the corpse, and hope no one gets near him. The souls for the kill should come to him pretty soon, though. The undead chugged an estus, and let out a sigh of relief.

Only to be reawakened by a crossbow bolt whizzing by his head. In a state of urgency, he turned to the source and saw two hollowed warriors on top of the tower he came from, and –most importantly– a ladder leading up there. A quick exchange of looks was all it took to set the battle back into motion, and as the undead began climbing the ladder, he began to wonder–

"Why haven't I gotten my souls yet?"

Because, oh so ignorant and virgin undead, you can't stop the rock. No one can stop the rock.

Not even Havel himself can stop the rock.

Havel fell down the cliff-side, almost certain of his doom. He hit the ground, and began to tumble, the weight of the suit slowly but surely being added to the momentum. Soon, he wasn't just tumbling, he found himself being tossed from the cliff-side, using his hands and feet to make sure he was still touching something. He tried with all his might to break the speed, but it was working itself now. He could, however, manage himself while falling. When he was moments away from the ground, he was flipping on his hands and feet as a ninja would in a situation which needed finesse. Except Havel's situation was the exact opposite, his flipping being the result of masterful clumsiness and lack of control.

Havel was sure that when he finally hit the ground, he'd hit hard, and get crushed beneath the weight of his own armor. But now, the cliff he was on was smoothly filleted into the forest below; no sudden stops that most people fear when they look down below. All the speed, all the momentum, and the sheer weight, all thrown together in a package similar to that of a large man, became a force to be reckoned with.

The first of his many victims was the peaceful mushroom men. When first looking at the silver ball coming toward them, they thought Alvina had started taking notes from the Great Felines just below. But now, what they received was a full introduction to Havel the Rock, and as the Rock flew through them, they were pulverized.

Ricocheting off several trees, Havel's trajectory had changed course. He was now headed straight for the grave of Artorias.

Bouncing off the bridge once or twice, causing it to shake and lose some stones from its structure, Havel flew through the fog wall and slammed into the Greatsword of Artorias. In the background, Sif yelped, in the fear of the prized sword shattering. But no, instead of breaking, it bent backward, in an uncanny resemblance to a catapult.

And like a catapult it was.

The undead checked his surroundings as he proceeded through the doorway. To his left was a balcony, with not much seemingly on it. To the right, he eyed a small horde of enemies blocking a bonfire.

Bonfire. All he needed to know.

He rose his shield, and advanced onward, ready to deal with these poor madmen. It was then he recalled the drake. The plopping sound his feet work making made him quickly question what he was stepping in. Suddenly, the drake the merchant spoke of appeared, lighting the bridge afire as it passed.

He survived, barely, falling onto his back in pain, and had no estus to heal. As he was on the floor, he passed a look of anger at the flying lizard. Its attention was gathered by something. Following the path of its eyes, the undead looked up and for a split second, saw what seemed to be a rock. Another split second and he realized it was The Rock.

The next split second, it smashed into the drake's head, smashing it out of the air, and onto the ground before the bonfire, crushing the hollow knights that were not incinerated. In the shock, the undead crawled backward. Then, he began to hear footsteps behind him.

"Funny thing, I thought that was coming from the sun at first," said a rather jolly voice behind him. "But the trajectory was all wrong. If it were autumn, it would have been perfectly aligned, but alas."

The undead rolled to his feet, shield raised.

"... Oh, I'm sorry. Did I startle you?"