A/N

In case I haven't stated it before, I've made up pretty much a lot, if not all, of the elements of Dark Souls in this crossover while keeping some themes from DS1 to DS3. As for the frequent changes in so many POV's, I apologize if it leaves you dizzy, I'm still experimenting with multiple-POVed stories so bear with me.

Overall, I appreciate your support for this fic, and I hope you all stick around till I finish Vandal's arc. I've had plenty of time to think and come up with a plan for the whole Vestige of Warmth story, which encompasses events from Saprowski's books as well as Witcher 1 to Witcher 3. I'm really excited to get it all into writing, although that may take some time, and I really wanna see what you all think about it as it goes.

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"How do you kill Idlekkarnhamth?" The wingless dragon reared his head and stared into the still-burning flames of the battlefield around them, as though lost in his thoughts. The edges of his maw curled up into an amused grin, "Perhaps your chances would have been higher when the blacksmiths had not finished their work on him. Now he is unassailable, an impregnable flying fortress."

Vandal reflected on his encounter with Laughing Vikkarn, "Your brother, he looked the 'unassailable' type too. All it took for me to kill him was to be swallowed whole. No amount of armor could protect a dragon from an attack from the inside."

"There is truth in that, but there is also some in this." Vilhemakkar replied, "One cannot use the same trick twice and expect the same results. My father, you see, does not dine on the flesh of those he sees as lesser creatures. He fancies himself as- how should I put it- a more dignified entity. He won't gobble you down as most dragons are wont to do, he will burn you to ashes without an afterthought."

"He won't, eh? Not a chance?"

The dragon shook his head slightly, looking like a swaying cobra as he did so. "Not a one."

"Well then." Vandal tugged at the loose bits of his armor and did away with them, "It looks like I have to be a little bit more creative."

"Someone comes!" Someone cried out, alerting the remnants of the soul-bound army to the arrival of the two witchers. One of them wore an all too familiar face, with the unmistakable white hair flowing from his head in the wind. Recognizing him, the gathering of soldiers parted to make way.

"Geralt?" Vandal said, "What are you doing here?"

The White Wolf tugged at Roach's reins, pulling him to a stop before the baron. "Heard you went off to kill dragons, so I followed your trail. You left a pretty obvious one, let me tell you."

"Believe me, I wish it would have gone some other way."

"What other way could it have possibly gone?" Geralt asked upon dismounting. He approached Vandal, cat-eyes looking on in disbelief at the creature crouching defensively behind him. Both Geralt and Eskel had seen their share of dragons before, and those encounters were rare and far between. Seeing so many of them in a single day, be it living or dead, was new.

There were some Nilfgaardian soldiers among Vandal's followers too, which roused feelings of suspicion among the witchers.

"I see you're quick to make new friends, as usual."

"At the cost of losing many." Vandal hung his head, still feeling the weight of all those who died helping him as well as those whom he alienated with his choices. "But never mind that, there still stands one more task for us to finish. Are you two here to help?"

"Hmm." Geralt grunted, nudging his head in Eskel's direction. "This is Eskel."

"Hey, how you doin'?" The other witcher extended his hand, giving the baron's own a firm shake.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Vandal." Vandal replied, "And I'll tell you how I'm doing after we kill Idlekkarnhamth."

"Who's that?"

"A greater dragon, Geralt." The baron explained, "Said to be one of the most ruthless of his kind, and he's going to be one tough bastard to take on."

"Said, huh?" The White Wolf pointed out, "You mean to say that you haven't met him yet?"

"I haven't had the pleasure. And if I were to meet him, I pray it would only happen once and it would be to deliver the killing blow."

"And..." Geralt glanced around, taking note of the battlefield filled with the corpses of both men and dragons. "...what's stopping you?"

"You see that?" Vandal pointed to Laughing Vikkarn's corpse, "Imagine a dragon three times that size, probably more, and protected with as much armor as a knight. The armor would also be nigh impenetrable, on top of an already tough layer of scales. I'm at a loss on how to proceed. Might as well fight an iron tower with sticks."

"How'd you manage to kill that one then?" Eskel inquired.

"Got lucky. He chewed me up and swallowed me down, so I cut my way out of him."

Geralt tilted his head to the side and muttered to himself as he took note of the unusual method of killing a monster, "Hm, smart." He straightened up and turned to Vandal, "So what's the problem?"

"This one..." Vandal pointed to Vilhemakkar, "...tells me that Idlekkarnhamth doesn't eat his enemies."

"I never said that!" The dragon denied, "I said that he doesn't dine on the flesh of those he sees as lesser creatures. I'm quite particular with my words, I'll have you know."

"I stand corrected." Vandal apologized, "But the problem remains. Can't use that same trick, if the dragon is to be believed."

"I gave you my word, quickling." Vilhemakkar bristled, "Don't insult me."

"There's more than one way to kill a dragon." Geralt stepped in to move the discussion along, "And I believe in saving my judgements until after I've seen my prey. Can you lead us to Idlekkarnhamth, just so we can see what we're really dealing with?"

"I can." The dragon replied, "But I warn you, to go to my father would be to behold the face of death itself. So steel yourself."

The witchers, along with Vandal and a small band of soul-bound warriors, followed Vilhemakkar through the dizzying maze of the outlaying canyons. Enris stayed behind with the unnamed sorceress at the Wyrm's Ruin, where they gathered what was left of their forces for the final push. Geralt's plan was to scout and probe the greater dragon's weaknesses, if he had any, and come up with a better plan to kill him.

Even before they gained a glimpse of Idlekkarnhamth, they felt the sinister pang of uncertainty as their ears picked up on the faint growls echoing through the chasms below and the mountain faces above. There were squeals and screams as well, almost like the cries of pigs entering the slaughterhouse.

"What is that?" Eskel whispered.

"My father." Vilhemakkar replied, "He grows restless."

"Don't let that noise bother you, we will silence him soon enough." Geralt declared, "Onward."

The merry band stuck to the shadows, aided by the darkness of night as they neared Idlekkarnhamth's roosting pit. The entrance into the dragon's den was filled with broken stones from a collapsed natural mountain archway, so their progression was slowed as the warriors scaled the steep rubble pile to enter the source of the horrid growls.

There, they found the greater dragon feasting on lesser drakes.

"Behold Idlekkarnhamth." Vilhemakkar rasped quietly as the men crouched low and peered over the edge of the jutting cliffs.

With wide wondering eyes, they gazed down at the mighty beast. Idlekkarnhamth was easily the size of Cintra's largest cathedral, ranging from at least forty to sixty meters from tail to snout. Like Laughing Vikkarn, he was adorned with a second skin of armored plates, every one of them masterfully crafted and hammered into his body. Even his face was covered in a protective helm, which hugged snugly over his bristling and bloody snout.

Teeth and talons like longswords ripped through drake flesh as Idlekkarnhamth gorged himself on the dragons cowering around him in the roosting pit. They were trapped, unable to flee or fight back as the greater dragon deemed them unworthy of anything save for his next meal. Should they attempt to take to the skies or slip away, Idlekkarnhamth's massive arms would always be within reach. To fend for their lives would be just as futile, for none could even scratch the greater dragon's armor, much less pierce it.

"What is he doing?" Vandal asked, keeping his voice low as he did so.

"Preparing for war." Vilhemakkar explained, "One that is sure to come very soon."

Idlekkarnhamth reared his head in mid-chew, blood still streaming from between his teeth as he sniffed the air. He caught his son's scent and roared, "Vilhemakkar! Stop skulking in the shadows, come here!"

The red-scaled dragon bristled, threw Vandal a sidewards glance, then left his hiding place. He kept his head down and avoided direct eye-contact with his father, but even then this did little to stave the wrathful greater dragon from hurling one abuse his way to another.

"You reek of the stench of quicklings!" Idlekkarnhamth's voice, the sound of a hundred hateful demons clamoring from the deepest pits of hell, bellowed at Vilhemakkar. "And you come to me alone? Where is your brother?"

"Skarner?" Vilhemakkar replied, "He is dead, as are the quicklings who murdered Vikkarn."

Idlekkarnhamth spat out the remains of his dinner and loomed over his son. His jaws alone were big enough to fit Vilhemakkar, should he decide to devour the lesser-born dragon. Bright golden eyes, filled with untold malice and rage, studied him, scrutinizing the story right out of his skin as he read his body language.

Vandal and the others looked on with baited breath, hoping that Idlekkarnhamth would not find the truth and that Vilhemakkar would stay true.

There was fear in the red-scaled dragon, which Idlekkarnhamth found to his delight. "If only you weren't such a disappointment, I would be proud of your work."

Fear turned to ire, and Vilhemakkar spoke with a courage that for too long had remained guarded. "Cursed as I am, Skarner deserved better. He needn't have to die for your honor."

In a flash, Idlekkarnhamth grabbed his son by the base of his throat and pulled him up against the wall of the canyon. The impact shook the whole mountain, sending stalactites and boulders alike hurtling down to the roosting pit. The lesser drakes, seeing their chance, took to the skies and fled the scene, leaving Vilhemakkar alone to contend with a seething Idlekkarnhamth.

"YOU LIVE ONLY BECAUSE I ALLOW IT!" He roared into Vilhemakkar's face, his amusement quickly evaporating, only to be replaced with burning hatred. "NEVER FORGET THAT!"

As both dragons argued, Vandal caught sight of a curious shining piece of metal hanging by a chain around Idlekkarnhamth's neck. It was oddly shaped, but it resembled a key.

"Look there." The baron said to one of the soul-bound warriors, "Could that be the key to the blacksmith's chains at the Wyrm's Ruin?"

"I believe it is, my lord."

Vilhemakkar saw the piece too, and the wily dragon saw an opportunity to gain one step closer to killing his own father. Through Idlekkarnhamth's iron grip, he lunged for the key and went for his father's throat. His teeth bit down hard on the armor, he would not let go even as Idlekkarnhamth raged and battered against his body.

With a foul snort, the greater dragon forced Vilhemakkar free from his neck and throttled him across the pit floor. He then reared up on his hind legs and rained blow after blow, beating his son till the defiance left him. The whole earth shook from Idlekkarnhamth's wrath, and when the dust settled, Vilhemakkar lay before his father's feet curled up into a ball. He bled from a dozen wounds, and his breath labored. His father's beatings undoubtedly broke half of all the bones in his body, though no one present could determine the extent of his injuries.

He lived and would remain alive long enough to feel the pain, that was all that could be said with certainty.

Idlekkarnhamth bellowed out a final gout of flame above his son's bleeding head, purposefully missing him to further drive the lesson deep. Vilhemakkar offered no more words save for his quiet whimpers, his battered body trembled with agony as he waited for the last word.

"How I loathe the day you sprang from your mother's womb." Idlekkarnhamth sneered with utter contempt, "Would that you have died and Vikkarn lived."

Geralt looked on in silence, feeling nothing but pity for such a magnificent creature suffering like an abused mutt. Even for dragons, the most dignified of creatures next to elves, life was just as cruel.

But even through the crippling haze of untold suffering, Vilhemakkar found the strength to muster what spite he had left in him. He threw it all back at his father's face, "Then...what's stopping you...from killing me?"

It was Idlekkarnhamth's turn to be silent, and Vilhemakkar's turn to speak.

"I will...tell you why..." He rasped, "Just by outliving my brothers...one whom you hold in such high regard and the other...as low as I...you know that I am the strongest of your sons." He tried to lift his head from the ground, but failed, so he remained defeated upon the pit floor. "Vikkarn fell to humans, father. Humans. That's how he'll be remembered..."

After listening to his words, the greater dragon leaned in and put one foot over Vilhemakkar's head. "And you will be remembered as the runt, unworthy of my name." With that said, Idlekkarnhamth spread his wings, each of them bigger than the sails of the Continent's biggest ship, and started to climb up over the mountain.

His time for conquest had begun.

When he had gone, Vandal immediately left the group and slid down to the bottom of the pit. He ran to Vilhemakkar's side and fell to his knees before the downed dragon. Cautiously, he eyed the open mouth of the cavern and saw only the stars in the sky. Idlekkarnhamth was long gone, they were safe for the moment.

"You poor thing." The baron said, "Come, let me help you up."

"Don't." Vilhemakkar wheezed, refusing the man's aid. "Don't touch me."

He put his arms beneath his body and pushed with all his strength, groaning all the while as his ruined limbs protested under the weight of his injuries. Dragons had their pride, Vilhemakkar was no different. He would not let himself be seen too weak to take care of himself.

But pride was not the same as fortitude, as the dragon soon found out. With a pained grunt, he collapsed back onto the ground.

"You're not going anywhere." Geralt cautioned as he and Eskel approached the pair, "Not after what you've been through."

Eskel looked him over and grimaced at what he saw. It was clear that Vilhemakkar would end up even more crippled than he had been before, "Why the hell did you do that, anyway?"

Vilhemakkar slid the one taloned hand he hid up until that moment and held up the blacksmith's key for all to see.

"How did you-" Vandal started as he took the key.

"Make it worth my while." The dragon said, closing his eyes so he could rest.

"I promise, I will." The baron vowed, tucking the key into his belt. It was larger than most keys, roughly the size of a footlong dagger. It fit well into Vandal's belt.

"What's that for?" Geralt asked.

"It's for someone who can make us a weapon to kill that ugly bastard." Vandal explained, "Someone who's got just as much an axe to grind as we do. But I fear that we've inadvertently set off a chain of events that could mean the ruin of this land. Idlekkarnhamth's begun his personal war against this world, and you know as well as I do the untold thousands that will suffer the consequences of that war. Someone has to warn the people of Cintra, they certainly will be the first to feel the dragon's wrath."

"By someone, you mean me." The White Wolf concluded with a frown, not at all liking the idea of riding back to the city after just recently spending two days riding after Vandal.

The baron nodded, "I wager you're better at riding than I."

"You can say that again." Eskel piped up with a humorous wink.

Geralt sighed, "And what are you gonna do?"

"I'll free the blacksmith, then return with a weapon that can kill Idlekkarnhamth. Go Geralt, time is not on our side here."

"Hmph." The witcher grunted as he turned his heel to leave. Eskel followed him out of the pit.

"You." Vandal said to one of the soul-bound, "Go with him and tell Enris to gather our forces to head back to Cintra. You must all warn the others, see to it that the king hears of the danger too."

"It will be done, my lord. But what about you, are you to remain alone in this godsforsaken place?"

"Don't you worry about me, friend." The baron replied, "You have my orders, protect the people of this land."

Later, the witchers together with the soul-bound army marched out of the Amell Mountains, leaving Vandal with an even smaller band of warriors to help with the transportation of the dragonslaying weapon. Enris, stubborn as he was, refused to leave his friend and remained at the Wyrm's Ruin much to Vandal's annoyance.

When he found him at the entrance to the bastion, Vandal couldn't help but gripe at the man's persistence. "Why are you still here?"

"Thought I'd serve better to give you a hand with whatever you're getting out of the big guy." The man replied, "A weapon that's made to kill dragons isn't exactly the kind one can carry alone."

"Nothing's been made yet." Vandal took the key and went indoors with Enris following close behind. They returned to the dragonsmith, who looked on in disbelief as he thought the baron would not survive the attempt at acquiring the key to his freedom.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Never in all my years as a slave, no one has come this far." He said, taking the key from Vandal's hands. With it, he unlocked the chains and let them fall to the floor. He rubbed at the sore spots where the manacles used to be, then turned to the baron. "You've kept your word, quickling. Now, I shall keep mine. My forge is yours."

"It is well." Vandal replied, "I need you to make me a weapon that can pierce Idlekkarnhamth's armor. A weapon that can kill him. Is such a feat possible?"

The dragonsmith said nothing. He glanced down at the pile of chains sitting at his feet, picked and gathered them up into his massive hands, then took a deep breath. He let the flames from his mouth spill over the star-metal until they glowed red, then crushed them together until their formed into sheets. Star-metal does not break, but it could bend as demonstrated by the dragonsmith.

With hammer in hand, and glowing sheets in the other, he set to work on his anvil.

"I reckon that means yes." Enris remarked.

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