The Last Knight
"Dragonslaying, knighthood's highest calling"- Hawkeye Gough
Prologue
The End of an Era
Thunder. That was what it sounded like as hundreds of blinding flashes of light flew across the gray sky, cutting through the dense fog and striking the massive flock of birds flying towards the cliff. An army of men, knights dressed in silver armor that gleamed with brilliance as each bolt of lightning was thrown from their ironed fists. They ranked in the hundreds, far outmatched by whatever they are opposing. The tallest of whom, wore a highly decorated crown and armor, engraved with markings of unknown meaning. His name was Gwyn, the one with the strength of lords, possessing such power, that when his bolts were thrown, the very air around him seem to shimmer and charge. With his massive figure, and long, gray hair and beard, he struck an impressive figure that his fellow knights rally upon. Rumor has it that he made contact with two other beings of equal strength, Nito, the first of the dead, and the Witch of Izalith, and that this was the time they strike, to destroy the cold, rock dragons that dominated this bleak world, and to craft it with Fire.
The figures in the sky grew close enough to be distinguishable. And what a sight it was, they were not birds, but massive dragons, hundreds of feet from snout to tail tip. Numbering in the thousands, it seems as if this paltry group of knights will be obliterated. "Ready yourselves men, for today, we end our days of cowardice. For today, we take this world for ourselves. For today, we shall carve our own paths. Warriors of Sunlight, prepare your volleys!" The mighty Lord said, his deep voice unnaturally loud against the vast openness of their surroundings. The first line of dragons started their dive, then the second, then the third, until their figures nearly blotted out the dreary sky. "FIRE!" Gwyn boomed, and from his hand produced a lightning bolt, and with effortless strength threw it. He wasn't alone, as behind him every single knight also threw their bolts. Once again the sky, armor, and ground lit up, as a hundred synchronized bolts fly through the air and found their targets. Massive though the dragons were, the bolts pierced directly through their stone scales, annihilating the front line of the flock, turning the monsters to dust upon contact. Other luckier dragons fell to the base of the valley, several hundred feet.
Gwyn turned to his left and pointed to a platoon of knights "Artorias, take your knights and destroy any dragon not killed by our volleys, go down into the valley, take whatever weapons you need." He ordered, looking directly at a knight with a massive greatsword on his back. "Yes, my Lord" He replied, and beckoned to his small force of fifteen or so soldiers. "Grab a sword, a lance and a shield. Hurry, before the dragons can flank us from below." The knights walked to a small hill of forged, polished, and sharpened weapons on woolen mats, and started arming themselves. Artorias watched his men prepare and noticed that one knight was not taking anything but a heavy-headed spear. The man then took position in the very back of the line, and started marching down the hill. "Hold you." Artorias commanded, gauntlet pressing against the man's gleaming breastplate. The man simply started at him through his visored him. "Are you mad? Charging into close quarter combat with nothing but a spear? No greatshield to keep the dragon's from impaling you through the stomach?!" To Artorias' surprise, the man simply chuckled and stated "I have no need for a shield, for I was quick enough to plunge this spear through their hearts and throats before they can even strike at me." The foolhardy man then started towards the path again. "Wait! What is your name? For at least tell me that so I may know which fool will not be coming home tonight." The man stopped, turned around, then stated "Ornstein, Sir."