Tattered Cloth

Armor worn by pyromancers of the Great Swamp. Though it appears tattered, it is actually quite strong.

Their attire offers substantial protection against poison, fire, and other forces of nature out in the hinterlands where they were driven.

Boots made of thick leather. The boots of the pyromancers are incredibly tough, on account of the rugged grasslands and treacherous swamps they must traverse. Their soles are nearly impenetrable.

Magic is no show. It is an art that allows mere mortals to glimpse into the very fabric of what is and may be.

Laurentius trudged through the swamp, humid and wet, insects flying and biting around him, he looked around through the haze and trees, looking for a place to hide for the time being. If he could, he would light a flame in his hand to light his way, but he didn't want to give away his position to anyone else who might be around. Eventually he found a tree, a large dead one that had been hollowed out, and stepping out of the muddy waters and into it.

Now that he had was out of sight, he lit a small flame to keep himself warm and to dry his clothes. He himself was relatively dry, the thick cloths keeping a majority of the water and poisons out and away from his skin. He grumbled to himself and poked his head out of the dead tree, when he saw nothing and no one around he retreated back into the tree.

Finally taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to relax for the first time all week. Reaching up, he pulled at the beaded necklaces around his neck, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over them before he began to rub his thumb over the heavy cloth on his chest, feeling the calloused mark underneath.

They Pyromancer groaned in despair. This was not something he wanted, or needed in his life. Well, afterlife, now that he thought about it. He couldn't stay here, not anymore, not in the Great Swamp, he's have to leave his home, most likely forever. You couldn't cure the Undead Curse, it lasted until you went Hollow. As far as he could think he only had two options available to him; he could get caught and carted off to one of those asylums he'd heard about, where the Undead were sent, far from anywhere, thrown away to rot for eternity, and considering how lowly most of the surrounding lands looked down on the Undead, he really couldn't see too many places he could escape to.

With the exception of Lordran, of course. The land of the Undead, where it was rumored the curse originated, so many hundred of years ago. He wasn't too sure about that though, from what he heard the journey there was incredibly dangerous, with Lordran itself even more so. However, he really couldn't see much anyway around it. He could go to Lordran, and have to fight off who knows what sort of monsters and other sorts of horrible creatures, or get thrown away into some small cell for the rest of his undead life.

Then again, Lordran was the home of the Mother of Pyromancy. So that in itself might be worth it to go there, if he got the chance to meet her. He would give anything to meet that woman, even if for a minute.

Laurentius then pushed himself up and he began to move forward, through the swamp.

He'd meet her, even if it was the last thing he'd do.