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The Tale of Black Iron Tarkus



Unfortunately the true origin of Tarkus is still unkown, though it is believed his path in Lordran was intertwined with the Firelink Shrine.


His departure was apparently swift for his time there seemed to leave little impact. Not even apparently the Crestfallen Warrior remembered his appearance, or simply didn't care enough about the Knight.



Sen's Fortress was his goal, as well the goal of Berinike's many Knights that went along with the man. The challenge proved too worthy to pass up for these men who sought rewards in many forms. Plunder, glory, possibly a mission of Divine origin.



The traps seemed to be of no challenge to the powerful Knight, as well each and every serpent crumbled before him. Why some would perish or fall victim to the very ground they walked upon, others went mad and gave up in this nefarious structure falling into a hollow state or ending up captured by the snakes. Tarkus forged ahead ignoring such trivial issues.



It would stand to reason that Tarkus found some sort of plunder within the walls. With the many corpses and treasures would he merely ignore them?



Push forward he did as his men failed behind him, the other Berinike Knights of lesser resolve than the mighty Black Iron Tarkus. Unfortunately he found himself against the true test of this place, the Iron Golem. Whether due to the dwindling numbers or his own failure in defeating it, he decided to team up with a being that would later turn out to be very important. The two sweat and bled together before finally destroying the mighty machination.



Finally the light dawned upon him again as he entered the City of Gods, Anor Londo. It's beauty and power swelled over the man whom which had been between a rock and a hard place.



He couldn't help but fall to his knees, such trials finally over as he got closer to his goal. Whether or not he got sidetracked is unknowable.



However he did end up in the church, slaying the many guardians surrounding the painting. Perhaps he could tell the importance of the artwork through the amount of protection it had. Or it could have been his goal all along. Each of the guardians fell easily beneath his mighty blade, a short prayer for those whom which he has slain during their duty.



It swelled over him, the strange energy now becoming apparent to him as he grew closer and closer. Awe struck by this vast stretch before him which seemed to depict a mysterious world.



He could not refuse such a calling, to examine the beauty closely.



It may or may not have been intended, but he had plunged himself into a dangerous and unforgiving land. The cold whipped against him as he fell, or rather was pulled into the dark artifact.



He had now entered the Painted World of Ariamas, a cruel realm that seemed quite cut off from Lordran. A strange light illuminating it just enough for sight to be possible, yet no true power in the sky was there to give any warmth or hope.



Very little is known of what exactly occured during Tarkus' visit, for there are many mysteries that the dead who reside within still hold. Their "graves" acting as a reminder of just how deadly it is to chase after what was hidden away intentionally.



There are few who believe that he may have tried to, or succeeded in taking something from its resting place. Stolen it away from this ancient burial ground guarded by those who are abominations in every sense of the world. However whether or not he managed to get anything out is beyond what is knowable, for this is where Tarkus' story is most fractured.



Whether he met with the fair lady Priscilla is unknown, if so he either managed to pass peacefully or failed in defeating her. Possibly injured by her or the strange creatures, possibly in perfect condition to leave. Again, there is little evidence suggesting how he even left.



It would stand to reason it would be in the same manner as others.



Here is the truly tragic part of Tarkus' stroy, death. Due to injuries sustained during his journey, a sneak attack, or merely a skilled opponent finally catching up with the legend he perish just outside of the painting. His corpse rotting inside of his Black Armor. Acting as a sign to those wishing to enter as he did of the fate which awaits all.



Why his corpse remained is a mystery, for Tarkus surely was a hollow correct? Or was he truly a man, a real flesh and blood human travelling the land for Berinike, the Gods, his own interests? What of his companions who fell behind him, or stayed behind. What of his exploits and intentions and whether or not they were carried out. It ends here without a doubt, the tale of Tarkus and his triumph and failure. Let it be a lesson to those who fiddle with arts beyond their comprehension.