AN) This is the first fanfic I've decided to actually write down and publish for your viewing! Any feedback would be much appreciated as well as constructive criticism. Oh and if you want to leave negative comments, go ahead; just give me a reason as to why you don't like the story and I'll see if I can tweak it a little for you.
Dislaimer: I do not own Dark Souls. If I did, I would have probably kept Oscar's original story. Just sayin' -glares at FromSoft-
Two men can be seen sitting near a large fog wall. Ash seemed to be falling all around them, blanketing the whole region with a sad, grey color. Somehow, while underground, clouds floated lazily overhead. The sun shining through made the place seem more abandoned and depressing, casting a pale, yellow light upon the land. One man pulled out a small, green bottle filled with bright yellow liquid. He tugged up his helmet slightly to allow himself to drain the flask of some of its contents. This drink was known as Estus, a nectar that heals one's wounds and eases their fatigue. After a moment, he removed the Estus from his lips and placed it back in the side pouch hanging from his waist.
This man, otherwise known as the Chosen Undead, was sporting the Elite Knight armor set. It was no longer as weak as it should have been at this point in time. He had spent many a day gathering the items necessary to make it durable and sturdy enough to easily become one of the best armor sets in Lordran. However even with the added titanite, it still retained its lightness which allowed its owner to easily move around in battle. On his back was the famous Grass Crest shield, which he used to give him better stamina recovery, allowing him to get off more attacks on a foe or to quickly dodge an oncoming attack. Sheathed on his left side was a smaller version of a Black Knight Sword which he was accustomed to wielding in both of his hands.
He and his ally had taken down a Black Knight, and one of the items that didn't disappear with the Knight was its sword. He took it to a blacksmith named Andre and requested that a smaller version of it was made. He gave Andre several Titanite chunks and shards as well as a few souls to increase the weapon's power as soon as it was completed. This way, it would be as strong as a half-upgraded regularly sized Black Knight Sword.
The man looked across at his partner, a quite famous figure throughout the many different dimensions in which the cycle was taking place. This man was wearing one of the most famous and unique armor sets, even if it was a bit lacking in defense. On his legs, he wore Iron Leggings and on his hands were Iron Bracelets. An Iron Helmet lies atop his head with a red feather sticking it out of it. What stood out the most was his chest piece, otherwise known as Armor of the Sun. On his Armor of the Sun was a picture of a sun with a face.
Sheathed on his side was the Sunlight Straight Sword. This sword might be a longer variation of the long sword, but in Solaire's hand, it became a sword capable of killing the Chosen Undead, if he felt inclined to do so. Hanging loosely on his back was his Sunlight Shield, which also had the same blazing sun as his Armor of the Sun. This man was none other than the ever jolly and gentlemanly Solaire.
Currently, Solaire seemed to be deep in thought, making an occasional noise every now and then. The Chosen Undead was looking out across the landscape, reflecting on how he had gotten here in the first place. He thought of how he had begun his journey in the Undead Asylum. He reflected upon how he and another escaped Undead had fought together against the Asylum Demon. His newfound friend had unfortunately been crushed beneath the Demon's buttocks in the middle of the battle. The Chosen Undead reverted back to the present and looked across at Solaire.
"Are you ready," he asked.
Solaire shook his head, "I just need a little more time to mentally prepare myself."
The Chosen Undead nodded and did not bother his companion further, resuming his reminiscing.
After his friend's unfortunate demise, he had claimed the treasure that had fallen upon defeating the demon: a Humanity and the Big Pilgrim's Key as well as a small wealth of souls. After inserting the key into the lock, he opened up the large pair of doors at the end of the hallway opposite to the 'bonfire door'. He pushed open the massive doors with great effort until they finally swung outwards. The Chosen Undead was met with a long cliff where at the end, he assumed was a drop-off. There was a light breeze that ruffled some small patches of grass growing along the cliff. He looked around for any other paths out but the only one that he could see was a broken staircase leading up to the drop-off. Sighing, he walked along the path until it reached an end at the cliff's edge. Having expected this, he began to turn around until the breeze suddenly changed, blowing with more power until it threatened to throw him off the cliff. Unfortunately for him, that threat became reality and he found himself falling off the cliff edge.
The wind buffeted around him, bellowing in his ears. The Chosen Undead closed his eyes, ready to meet the ground, until he felt something wrap around his body. He cracked one of his eyes open and found himself looking straight down at the mountains and a… bird's foot wrapped around him; more specifically, a gigantic crow's foot. The Chosen Undead's first thought was to panic, but he decided against it quickly after. What idiot would decide to panic in a crow's grasp while flying more than a thousand feet above the ground? The Chosen Undead favored living rather than becoming a bloody splat on the mountains. So, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the ride, listening to the steady flap of the crow's wings. His peace was interrupted, however, when the crow decided to drop him in the middle of a ruined shrine. He skidded across the floor, until he came to a stop, his head banging on the stairs encircling an unlit bonfire. Groaning, he stood up, his head hurting due to his helmet banging against his head. He started when he heard a grumpy sounding man addressing him. The grouch said-
"Alright, I'm ready," stated Solaire.
The Chosen Undead nodded and stood up. He offered his hand to Solaire, and with a grunt, he pulled him up. They both unsheathed their weapons, Solaire with his Sun Blade and the Chosen Undead with his mini Black Knight Sword. Solaire grabbed his shield off of his back, gripping the handle tightly. The Chosen Undead favored keeping the Grass Crest Shield on his back and his sword in both of his hands. He walked toward the large fog gate, holding his left hand out. The gate provided resistance for a second until it gave way, allowing the man to pass through. Solaire quickly followed suit, and soon, both were inside of the Kiln of the First Flame.
What they saw before them was a sad sight; Gwyn, the once great Lord of Sunlight, now the Lord of Cinder, was fully Hollowed, faint white souls steadily flowing out of him and into the First Flame. Apparently hearing the two men enter, he turned his body to face the two intruders. Stuck into the ground in front of him was his Great Lord Greatsword, crackling with intense flames. Gwyn grabbed the hilt and slowly pulled it out of the ground. Then, with great speed, Gwyn leaped forward with his sword held aloft.
Thus, the battle to determine the Age of Fire began.
AN) So, tell me what you think if you have the time to review this story. Thank you for reading the first chapter. Oh yeah, I also won't be following the direct dialogue for NPC's. I'll have it in the for the most part, but I might change the wording or shorten it. Unless you want otherwise of course. It wouldn't be too much of a problem for me. Again, thanks and leave reviews. :D