A bitter storm engulfed the blue skies. The blinding sun smothered by a thick black fog, the atmosphere of the land had altered and twisted to a state of panic, Edging through the fog, the slayer of Lords equipped the best gear he had. His battered and bloodied greatsword,A prized souvenir from the soul of a previously slaughtered foe, A full set of estus flasks ready to save his life when he's on the brink of death. And his signature Battle worn iron armour shrinking fear across the lands.
Deeper he dwelled into the fog, vision limited, screams can be heard, He knew a battle was about to arise. Although he knew, he felt nothing. No fear, no remorse, the embers burning through his body enlightened his soul and gave him the true strength of a ferocious warrior, giving him the reason for his acquired name.
He veered further and further into the fog, although he could not see, he knew he was getting close. With his experience, he knew the sounds coming from up ahead meant trouble. The sounds got louder and louder as he was getting closer and closer. Soldering on no remorse, no fear.
The storm finally died off the black fog eventually dispersed to other parts of the land. All that was left was him and "the man in the storm" a human sized mostrosity wearing battered bloody clothing a king like crown made from the asked of slaughtered unkindled. A rusty oldbspear infused with lightening drawn straight from the skies glowing as yellow as the sun itself, sparking onto his grey, shredded skin. Below him, a ocean coloured blue dragon, awaiting his masters command.
They eventually started Edging towards eachother. Slow fearless strides from the slayer and the man in the storm took flight his tamed dragon. They both knew, the battle is going to be long, gruesome and extremely painful.
To be continued...