Blades of the Moon Against Vile Faithful.
Frozen blood drips against cracked rubble, pained groans and gasps, as an armored Knight's deep breaths are immediately choked out in gagging pain. His plated protection of metal weathered and without dyed paints or shining polish. Even at a glance one could tell that the myriad of scratches were blades that only dulled against it, and the slight dents where hammers and maces failed to punch through. A sharp contrast to the joint sections of the armor however, every last chink in the armor was sliced apart and open. A horrid cold spreads outward into the air from the countless cuts and wounds as it turns blood solid and snuffles the embers of fire within the Knight. His being as an unkindled undead compelled to freeze away.
The Knight stumbles in a graceless trip, a shameful tumble to the ground with an undignified faceplant. He crawls forward on top the uneven and cracked cobblestone whenever his haggard breath grants him the energy to do so. At least until a sudden stomp drives a heel into his neck. Face and helmet smashes the ground. A haughty, mocking, laughter as a blade draped in the same unnatural cold that bled from his wounds. The wielder of the blade, a women dressed in the gown of a white shade of death, continues to dig her heel into the Knight's neck. Slowly she moves her blade past his crested shield and claymore, both carried on his back by leather straps, and towards his head.
However 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 upwards 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
She's simply 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 cuts into her light armor and skin to reveal her own embers as an unkindled. Yet another painful demise.
The Knight sighs as victory is achieved, only to collapse. Falling onto his back, inner embers still slowly snuffed out inch by inch by the cold she had imparted.
Yet as footsteps near his position. The Knight's literal inner flame rises as he drags himself back up. Burning out the influence of cold by force of will rather than physical might. Still left waddling with weak limp, only capable of simply walking in a futile attempt to flee. He takes out a simple flask colored dull green, the bottle still surrounded in the fragrance of the estus that once filled it.
And with this new knowledge known, the Knight slows, turns and collapses against the wall. his spiteful glare hidden by the helmet as he looks upon the encroaching shadows. The shadows of the darkness compelled and drawn to the new arrivals as the light of day wretches itself away from them. The Knight already flashesback to moments before. One against all, bested more by numbers than skill. A hero that fends off the darkness his crested shield, before a certain white draped shade with an ice cold blade slips past his guard.
In the now however Aldrich's Faithful edge closer and closer to the Knight.
At the forefront the leader, whose every step was 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 shoulder as he hauls it with one hand, a shield nearly as big as the Giant himself in his spare hand. His eyes glow 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. Ever closer to their crippled victim.
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, an enormous 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. Slings the dragonslaying greatbow across her back as she draws a simple straight sword and joins the charge. Her off hand fiercely clings 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, a comfort of radiance rather than a hungry darkness, 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.
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 reversed after only a few seconds of combat. The Knight protected and saved by the new arrivals.
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. Both mended in an instant as the battle wages on around him.
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, her blade now only able to merely scratch the paint of the Giant's invincible armor. The sacred darkness helpless as it succumbs 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, and imbues it with the light of the Darkmoon once more.
Yet in that vital time, instead of a futile sprint 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. A deflection of the Archer's moonlit blade just in the nick of time.
The battle done in an instant, the Darkmoon die in tenacious battle. 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 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 he points at it.
Like hyenas his minions move to circle around the Archer before they charge all at once. The Giant himself simply takes a seat on the ground.
She glances around before she instantly makes her move. A step back with one foot, before she bounces forward and rapidly tears asunder a ragged axe wielding bandit, his comrades already miss 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 dumbest among them continue to mindlessly charge the agile Archer. Robed and branded magi turn to the bag of loot. In newfound ignorance they make a run from the whole affair 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 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 on top of 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. No time wasted before they reach for their pouch and toss an urn that sparkles 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.
In this 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. A moment all she has to bless it with the light of the Darkmoon. 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 ember ridden ashen bodies linger 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!
