Chapter 1: Revelation
The Dragonslayer stood atop his perch in the grand cathedral of Anor Londo, staring down at the white light that served as the entrance to him and his partner in thought. For many lifetimes, for countless cycles has this been their duty. The Dragonslayer Ornstein, and the Executioner Smough, eternally cast as the last trial between the Chosen Undead and their princess, the beautiful Gwynevere. Every time, they would strike down the Chosen Undead again and again, for those who bare the darksign do not know true death, until at last he or she would strike them down, and continue on their quest to link the fire, thus continuing the age of fire. Ornstein sighed and turned back to the large double doors leading to his charge.
"And every time, you greet them with a smile that never fades, and bestow upon them that which they need to continue their quest." He whispered to himself.
Many times, he had considered going through those doors, and speaking to the woman he and his partner protected. Perhaps then some sort of enlightenment could be found to make this arduous and eternal task seem more worthwhile. But every time, his musings had been interrupted by the appearance of the Chosen Undead, and his duty overtook him. He then turned back to his partner, standing idly with a hand resting on his enormous hammer at his post, as per usual. The Dragonslayer envied him sometimes. While the bloodlust and brutality of Smough did in fact disturb him, it might have been that exact tasteless disregard for lives that allowed the Executioner to carry on with his duty, unhindered and blissfully ignorant of any higher callings that might befall the two of them. As if sensing the unease in his smaller partner, Smough turned upward towards him.
"Is something troubling you, my friend?" he asked. "If so, do not worry. I know the world has only just reset itself, but I'm sure the Chosen Undead will make their way here sooner or later. That way you'll just have to worry about where you thrust that spear of yours."
The Dragonslayer was about to sigh at having his thoughts confirmed, when something caught his attention. The world had only just reset. There was still a substantial amount of time before the enemy arrived. Before he could give Smough a reply, the Dragonslayer strode over to the doors to Gwynevere's chambers. If ever he was to obtain the closure he craved, now would be as opportune a chance as it could be. So, without a moment's hesitation, the Dragonslayer took a deep breath, and pushed open the doors. Inside, as he expected, was the giantess that was Anor Londo's goddess, Gwynevere, resting upon a likewise giant mattress and pillow. The Queen of Sunlight smiled ever so warmly down at her protector as he approached and knelt a few paces from the base of the stairs leading up to her.
"O your majesty, I know that I am not the visitor you may be expecting, but I must speak to thee." The Dragonslayer began humbly.
"For many long years, I have served as thy guardian, and yet I have always been struck down along the Chosen Undead's path to reach you. Please, if your majesty permit it, tell me what the meaning behind this all is? Why must my companion and I sacrifice ourselves for you, time and again, only to be resurrected in an endless cycle?"
Having said his piece, he awaited the response of his charge. What he heard next, however, was not at all what the Dragonslayer could have ever expected.
"Thou hast journeyed far, and overcome much, Chosen Undead…." Spoke the queen in her gentle, almost angelic voice.
But the gentleness of his charge's tone was the least of the Dragonslayer's concern as he rose his head in shock.
"Y-Your majesty?! What are you saying? It is I, Ornstein!"
His words fell upon deaf ears, as the still smiling Gwynevere continued.
"O Chosen Undead…I am Gwynevere, daughter of Lord Gwyn, and Queen of Sunlight. Since the day father, his form did obscureth, I have awaited thee."
"But I am not the Chosen Undead! I am your guardian!"
"I bequeath the Lordvessel unto thee."
At the queen's words, the Dragonslayer watched as the Lordvessel, the essential artifact of power that those who come to Anor Londo seek, appeared before him. He had little time to do more than stutter in disbelief before the seemingly oblivious queen spoke once more.
"And beseech thee, succeed Lord Gwyn, and inheriteth the fire of our world. Thou shall endeth this eternal twilight, and avert further undead sacrifices."
Outraged and confused, the Dragonslayer stood.
"What madness do you speak of? What eternal twilight? Why dost thou not recognize thine defender? I am not the Chosen Undead! I am Ornstein! What is the meaning of this?!"
All he received in response was Gwynevere's permanent smile. Frustrated and unable to think rationally, the Dragonslayer pointed his mighty spear at the queen.
"ANSWER ME!" he cried, at that moment loosing a small bolt of golden lightning.
The attack had not been fully intended, but by the time he realized his error the bolt had struck the queen's shoulder. Right before his eyes, the Dragonslayer saw his charge cry out in pain, seconds before vanishing away. Unsure what to make of this, he stuttered out.
"Your….majesty….?"
Al at once, the sky around Anor Londo quickly darkened, and by association so too did the formerly sunlit room in which stood the dumbfounded Dragonslayer. However, the eerie silence that had developed through the transition was soon shattered by a new, more contemptuous voice.
"What heresy is this, O proud Dragonslayer? Thou hath tarnisheth the godmother's image…yet this was not thine duty…nor thine intention…"
Though he rarely saw its owner, if ever, the Dragonslayer recognized the voice of Anor Londo's other resident god instantly.
"Master Gwyndolin…this…is your work? Lady Gwynevere-"
"Gone. In a land far, far from our own. What thou see now is the truth…the naked face of our accursed Anor Londo."
Slowly, the machinations and lies around him began to connect in the Dragonslayer's head.
"…..I see…..I….I understand now….this…all of this….the princess….our kingdom…my purpose…it was all merely an illusion orchestrated by you and your father, wasn't it?"
The darkmoon deity said nothing.
"My companion and I…our duty was nothing more than a lie….merely pawns in your game…"
"You have overstepped your boundaries, Dragonslayer. You were never meant to-"
"To think? To deviate from my duty? To know the truth of your wretched deceit? Well, Dark Sun, is that it?"
The deity in question seemed to have decided to try and play to what little power he may have left over the Dragonslayer.
"Choose thine next course of action with care, Ornstein. Thou may yet save thine post if thou should remain as thou were before this…incident. If not…then rest assured thou shalt perish in the eternal twilight of Anor Londo…"
At this, Gwyndolin said no more. As for the Dragonslayer, his mind was already clear on what course of action he would take. The only uncertainty he held was with his companion. Knowing that the Executioner was most likely just as shocked as himself, he walked over to the balcony overlooking the now dimly lit cathedral hall, and leapt down to his comrade. As suspected, the Executioner was in disarray at the sudden change to his surroundings, clutching his massive hammer tightly.
"Ornstein, what devilry is this?! What has become of our city?"
In a tone as solemn and dark as the lion visage upon his helm, the Dragonslayer approached his friend and answered.
"We have been made fools of, old friend. Gwyndolin, the god of Darkmoon, has been using us all along as pawns in the grand scheme of the Chosen Undead's destiny, in league with our withered lord Gwyn and his fellows to forever continue the cycle that binds us. All these years…and only now is the truth laid bare…"
The Executioner, for his part, understood fully the depth of his ally's words. However, for a simple minded being such as himself, one implication of their newfound situation stood out above the rest. Freedom. They were free to leave the church if they so dared, even if doing so meant having to face what few guardians remained in Anor Londo, to say nothing of the perils outside the city. They were free…to fight and kill as they so pleased. Could he have been seen beneath his armor, the Executioner's wicked smile would terrify even his old friend in its resemblance to that of the mask upon his face.
"I…I see…then, what do you propose we do, old friend?"
It took mere seconds for the Dragonslayer to reply.
"We end this cycle, once and for all. We will take up the mantle the Chosen Undead once carried, we shall do what we must to reach our once great lord, and then…we shall end him for his treachery and greed. However, I believe that you will agree there is a matter here that must first be resolved…."
The Dragonslayer directed his spear at the doors to the great hall outside their chamber.
"The Dark Sun, Gwyndolin, shall be the first to taste our wrath."
The Executioner couldn't help but chuckle at the unusual dark resolution in his ally's tone.
"Very well then. Let us be on our way, old friend."
And so, for the first time in centuries, the two golden champions of Anor Londo stepped out of the cathedral. Immediately, they were met by a pair of Gwyndolin's loyal Darkmoon soldiers, both clad in the lighter and heavier armors of knights from the kingdom of Balder respectively. However, even with their strong armor and deadly weapons, they were still merely humans. The lighter of the two soon met his end on the tip of the Dragonslayer's spear, while a large smear of blood and metal was all that remained of the more heavily armored knight after the Executioner's hammer found its mark. Without sparring a moment, the deadly pair marched over the remains of their foes and over to the massive double doors on the opposite end of the great hall. With a simple turn of the lever adjacent to the large gateway, the doors lurched open, allowing the pair access to the walkway connecting the hall to the central rotating platform the Chosen Undead would normally utilize to reach either the cathedral or the giant church to its right. Awaiting them at the end of the walkway, clad in her brass mail, was none other than Gwyndolin's most devout follower, the Lady of the Darkling.
"You two vile fools, you would dare to lay your hands upon a deity?" the lady snarled as she drew her estoc.
"Such bitter arrogance…I will punish you myself."
Further attesting to her lack of fear of the two large golden warriors, the lady then adorned her blade with a shining pale blue sheen of light, strengthening the weapon with a coat of magic. The Executioner merely scoffed at the female knight's actions.
"You may think yourself brave, little one…but you reek of foolishness."
He taunted, shortly before bringing his large hammer toward the lady. Smarter, and lighter than her cohorts, the lady swiftly dodged the strike, along with the blow that came after it. Unfortunately, her skill was soon overshadowed by her carelessness in doing so, for now there was no more room for her to go, with the just over waist high railing now at her back. In a desperate attempt, the lady charged forth toward the Executioner, sword first. But it was in vain, for no sooner had she done so than a large bolt of lightning summoned from the Dragonslayer's spear struck against her side, the impact sending her rolling into the railing once more. By the time the lady lifted her head, the very same spear was soaring towards her chest, penetrating it with a grotesque schink. Knowing the wound to be fatal, and feeling precious blood begin to quickly flee her body, the lady slumped over in resolution.
"Forgive me…master…Gwyndolin…" she whispered as she breathed her last.
The Dragonslayer retrieved his weapon from her body, staring down at it not in hate, but in pity. Just as we perished for our devotion to our goddess, so you perish in your devotion to your god. He thought. Silently praying that the foolish woman find peace in her next life, the Dragonslayer and his companion continued on. Turning the wheel affixed to the center of the rotating platform in the proper direction, the pair soon made their way into the honorary tomb of their former lord, where the Dark Sun resided. Gwyndolin's lair was quickly identified by the white fog serving as the doorway to the inner tomb, a sight the pair had grown long accustomed to staring at in their own domain. Gripping their weapons tightly with thoughts of vengeance in their minds, the pair stepped one after the other through the fog wall. Instantly, the god of Darkmoon appeared before them in feminine garb, an assortment of long and writhing serpents flowing out from under his robes.
"Thou tarnisheth the godmother's image, now thou wouldst defile the tomb of the great lord? How far thou hath fallen…" he spat from behind the visage of his sun shaped crown.
"Very well! Then let thy atonement commence!"
At Gwyndolin's command, the length of the hall leading to the inner tomb grew to ten times its previous length, just before the Dark Sun himself drew forth his scepter to transport himself further into it, out of reach of the fallen guardians. The Dragonslayer snarled, mentally roaring of the supposed god's cowardice before being forced to move himself behind one of the many pillars bordering the hall as a large blast of magic was flung his way. The Executioner, however, being the behemoth he was could only just fit himself into the hall, with no way of using its natural barriers to shield himself. Thinking quickly, the massive man drew his equally massive hammer in front of himself, blocking further passage of the magic blast, and letting it burst harmlessly against his weapon. Seeing his companion now had a means to defend himself, the Dragonslayer quickly dashed to behind a pillar on the opposite side of the hall, but slightly further down. Slowly, the pair made their way to the Dark Sun, blocking and dodging all manner of magic flung at them from their foe, in addition to the lethal arrows fired from his enchanted bow. Eventually they caught up to where Gwyndolin had rooted himself, and lashed out with fury. Quickly, the Dark Sun drew his scepter in an attempt to warp out of harm's way once more, but could not do so before a deep gash had been made in his side.
"For a god, you do not appear to be as fearsome as you would have others think!" the Dragonslayer taunted upon seeing his enemy visibly react to the injury.
The Dark Sun grit his teeth in rising anger, knowing he had little time to tend to the injury and resumed his barrage of spells and arrows. Just as before, the pair would make their way to him, and strike when he tried to flee further back. After about three repetitions, Gwyndolin could feel his life nearing its end. An end, he found, which came in the form of an incredibly obese golden warrior charging toward him with a massive hammer and ramming it straight into his fragile form. Unable to fight on, much less move his body after sustaining so many blows from such powerful opponents, the Dark Sun lifted his head from his fallen crown to glare one final time at the two who had betrayed him.
"O….heretics….swathed….in dark…an…eternal curse…upon…thee…"
He glared as hard as he could for a few moments longer, until his body succumbed to the pain, and went limp before vanishing away soon after. The Dragonslayer and Executioner stared proudly at the spot where the deity fell. Today, they had earned a victory not for their land, not for their princess, but for themselves. And both knew, with both violent glee and stern resolution…
…this was merely the beginning of their new quest.
To Be Continued…
A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this little number. I know some of you are probably wanting me to get started on chapter 3 of a story I'm ALREADY working on rather than start a new one (I'm not abandoning Spider of the Stars, I promise!), but I had the idea in my head and couldn't rest until I got it out. Depending on what people think, this could either end up being a long story, a short one, or somewhere in between. Who knows, maybe another misadventure in a different series will pop up next? As always, hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review! I really appreciate your input! Till next time! Dark Novelist out.