Blades of the Moon Against Vile Faithful.
Frozen blood drips against cracked rubble, pained panicked gasps as an armored knight clad more in their own blood and sweat, both turned solid by the biting cold, than in the broken and splintered steel they had once worn. They stumble, then tumble, rolling forward, only to fail to recover, and simply face plant into the ground. Crested shield and sheathed claymore on their back as they crawl forward. Worming their way forward, until a sudden stomp drives a heel into their neck. Face and helmet smashing the ground. A haughty and mocking laughter as a cold draped blade looms closer and closer to the knight's neck. Kept still and down by a silver heel.
Yet the knight, an unkindled undead like many others, a failure of a forgotten quest in ages past. Even as their fingers turn black from frostbite induced necrosis, still flex, still move. Still ball up into a fist of fury. The knight smashes the ground, the aged stone shattering instantly as the crack startles his foe. A moment of weakness he immediately capitalizes by surging up with strength. Throwing her off his body as he stands tall and proud.
She lands on her feet. In spite of her surprise, eyes wide.
But its not fast enough, his fist of steel crashes straight into her jaw. Sending spit, blood, and accompanying tooth straight to the stone as only a second passes before the Knight impales his assailant upon his claymore. Letting out a roar of triumph as he limps and stumbles with all his strength to shove his foe in a glorious march straight out the painted window glazed in stories eons old.
She screams and wails like a banshee, glass cutting into her light armor and skin to reveal her own embers, falling to her demise.
And he collapses. Falling onto his back, inner embers being snuffed out inch by inch by the cold she had imparted.
Yet as footsteps near his position.
The knight's literal inner fire rises as he drags himself back up. More by force of will than physical might. Still left to a weak limp as he does little more than walk in a futile attempt to flee. Taking out a flask faintly stained by the estus that once filled it.
And with this new knowledge known, the knight slows, turns and collapses against the wall. Spiteful glare hidden by their helmet as they look upon the encroaching shadows. Then the figures. The shadows of the darkness compelled and drawn to them as the light of day wretches itself away from the killers. The knight already flashing back to moments before. Facing every last one of them on his lonesome, bested more by numbers than skill.
At the forefront, every last step punctuated by a stomp as their layered armor makes them a one man fortress. A gargantuan greatsword larger than most men, the knight included, slung across his back as he hauls it with one hand, a shield nearly as big as the giant himself in his spare hand. His eyes glowing a deep crimson. His minions ranging from witches and assassins to wizards and bandits. Every last one marked in some way for their crimes. Some by rusted blood on blade and gauntlet, others by scars cursed to never heal.
They step before the shattered window. Edging closer to their crippled prey.
The knight's spiteful gaze felt through his visor as he lets out an annoyed grunt.
Yet a distinct, and heavy ring fills the air. As before anyone can flinch, a ginormous arrow closer to a javelin in size flies through the shattered window and straight through the sides of one of Aldrich's pet faithful. Sending him flying straight over the decrepit railing with a fearful crying scream of pain.
Outside the window warriors of might and magic sprint across tiled roofing. Heading straight for the breech where oaths and promises are to be fulfilled. Aid to be provided in conduct of ancient concord. The archer a women in a porcelain mask and protected by silver and silk rather than steel and shield. Slinging the dragonslaying greatbow across her back as she draws a simple straight sword and joins the charge. Her off hand fiercely clinging to a simple talisman.
The armored giant simply shrugs as battle is begun behind him. Still slowly marching towards the unkindled knight. Not a sound or expression as he begins the wind up to crush his prey inside their armor with the hunk of iron they wielded.
Yet the instant the ultra greatsword was ready to crash down. A sharp moonlit blade of the violet darkness, comforting radiance rather than consuming blackness, pierces straight through his armor.
The giant's own inner embers flare as he gives a roar of pain and rage. Undead and uncaring as his unbeating heart is ran through. Flaying around to try and reach his new foe.
And with a grace greater than any armored poise, she turns the giant's clumsy and blind attacks against him. Cutting through the chinks in his armor before she's the one directing his own strength to throw him to the ground. Their positions now reversed after only a few seconds of combat. The knight protected.
The giant, just one of many of Aldrich's faithful, simply takes out his flask of estus as he rises. Protected by his minions as they buy him the time to drink. The radiant energy corrupted black as it flows through his body and armor. Mending both in an instant as the battle wages on, undecided.
The knight only able to watch and not help as the Blades of the Darkmoon slay and fall in equal measure. The respective leaders of the groups engaged in the ultimate battle of speed vs power, grit against grace, might or magic. Wit tested upon raw rage. A stalemate, just as how a miracle of thunder brings low one faithful. A sharp katana rends open a servant of the darkmoon.
A stalemate that continues for a full minute, but on the eve of sixty seconds, the purple beauty of the Darkmoon blade fades away, leaving her blade to merely scratch the paint of the giant's now invincible armor. The sacred darkness succumbing to the hatred of the black abyss.
He strikes
She flees.
The air drenched in the scent of sweat, blood, and lingering flames in equal measures. Humid with the essence of death.
She takes her talisman to her blade, imbuing it with the light of the Darkmoon once again.
Yet in that vital time, instead of futilely sprinting to a foe he wouldn't reach in time. Aldrich's pet giant turns and charges into the melee. Using what limited time his foe had given him to instantly swing the battle into the Faithful's favor as he needs naught but a single strike to cleave open two Darkmoon Blade Disciples. A second overhead strike to split another in twain.
But instead of a third strike, he turns again and steadies his shield. Deflecting the archer's moonlit blade just in the nick of time.
The battle decided in an instant, the Darkmoon die fighting as they find themselves in a sudden numbers disadvantage. Buckling as they are overwhelmed and massacred. Aldrich's faithful servants working together with a sickeningly singular purpose.
The giant gives a shrug as his minions form back up behind him. Just like it was before the arrow that had started the brawl. Except this time, Aldrich's devoted faithful had not one, but two awaiting prey. Their bodies stained in the blood and ash of friend and foe. He takes out and tosses a bag heavy with loot straight at the ground directly besides the downed knight. Behind the archer, before pointing at it.
Like hyenas his minions move to circle around the Archer before charging all at once. The giant himself simply taking a seat on the ground.
She glances around before instantly making her move. Stepping back with one foot, before she bounces forward and rapidly tears asunder a ragged axe wielding bandit, his comrades already missing as they strike where she was. A witch with flaming hands behind the now dead bandit the next victim. Barely able to flinch before the moonlit blade strikes her twice, the flames of the witch instantly snuffed as she goes from one piece to four.
Finally the hyena pack shows its true colors as the stupidest continue to mindlessly charge the agile archer. Robed and branded magi turn to the bag of loot. Making a run for it and ignoring the knight before they fall dead in their tracks. Knives lodged into the back of their throat, courtesy of the Giant they failed to amuse. Whilst a final trio of street urchin scum move for the knight himself. Curved knives at the ready as he stumbles to stand. Legs weak even as he holds his shield aloft.
Just as their frenzied strikes reach for his crested bulwark. The archer massacres the last foe blind to their fresh lack of support, only for she herself to be slammed in the back by the Giant's sword. Sending her sprawling with a pained whelp blade loosed from her grasp as her grip tightens upon her talisman.
Just as the knight found himself pinned earlier. The archer is crushed by the raw weight of the giant. The darkness flowing over his black armor as he spreads his arm aloft while strutting on top the champion of the Darkmoon. Feeling her bones pop, crack then shatter underneath his weight as he nears her skull.
As the giant took his first step ontop the archer however. The knight pierces the second urchin, the first already fading into ash. The final third only managing a glancing blow against the shoulder, a cocky smirk sprouting on their face as they watch their prey flinch. However the knight surges with resolve from the pain and slams their shield against their last foe. Sending a resounding echo as they fall upon the third thief, claymore piercing flesh, flame, and floor. Wasting no time at all they reach for their pouch and toss an urn sparkling with electricity against the giant. Right before he could stomp the darkmoon champion from the realm.
He convulses and spasms as his metal armor serves as a perfect conductor for it to flow into and through him. The darkness of the deep abyss doing too good a job at melding the metal with his body itself. Giving the Knight and Archer just enough time to work together in order to push him off and onto his back.
And in that moment, with the Giant fallen to the ground, his heavy armor now useless and making him unable to rise. Struggling to get up as his chest is pierced by the claymore. Exactly where he had been pierced through from the back beforehand/
The Champion of the Darkmoon, the archer that had started the battle to save the unkindled knight. Scrambles on all fours for her dropped blade. Blessing it one final time before she drives it into the Giant's head.
And with that. A tranquil peace as the two bleeding and broken warriors rest together. Not a word spoken as they glance at the carnage of the battle, than each other. Before they give one another a firm hand shake. Their exposed inner flames and embered ashen bodies lingering on with a cold yet determined flame.
A.N
So yeah obviously not accurate to the game in the slightest.
But I just wanted to make an action setpiece and I've been playing DS3. So this was the obvious end result.
I mean rule of cool action aside Darkmoon blades never get summoned.
Regardless I hope any readers enjoyed!