"There are no others I doth entrust to accomplish such a task as this. Live up to thine titles, and journey forth to slay the dragon Jerdtkragen." The Great Lord spoke in a rich baritone to the Lord's Blade and the Hawkeye. "I have need of your Captain, and thus the task shall be ever more deadly. Dost thou possess the strength to meet this threat?"
Ciaran bowed even lower. "We shall not fail you, Great Lord."
Gough bowed his head. "We will return shortly, I believe. Worry thee not! My bow has longed for the taste of a dragon's hide!"
A small smile lit Lord Gwyn's face. "Very well, depart thee soon. The dragon already besets a human town, yet will not be sated there. Jerdtkragen means to lay siege to Anor Londo."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Humans. Being about their size and approximately their appearance, Ciaran had spent time deployed as something like a spy among them before and had not been duly impressed. There was an appalling amount of theft and murder taking place what seemed like every other day. She had quickly grown tired of those who had approached her simply for being a female. It was far easier to wear a man's armor and not speak to get respect around humans.
But today, she was in her custom armor, with black plates and mask that weighed about half of what they should have. She hadn't been sent to this specific area before, and she understood why. This town was one of many that ringed the mountain that Anor Londo was built on top of. The farther you went from the mighty towers of the Great Lord, the less grand the structures got. This was generally the case for the beings too, in Ciaran's opinion.
The two heard the dragon long before they saw it. This was not the same beast as the drakes at all. A drake was a mere shadow of a weak dragon.
The Everlasting Dragons were remnants of the previous age, the Age of Ancients. There had been no life or death in that time, no light or darkness. With the advent of the Age of Fire, the growing disparity that was so alien to the Dragons shattered their previous existence. Some simply went mad, realizing they were given life. Others soon sampled the taste of death.
Not this Dragon. Jerdtkragen was known to dissect his victims after knocking them unconscious with his unique breath. To combat this, Ciaran simply wore her mask. It was blessed, and would keep the air in her lungs pure. Gough would need a hefty dose of the gas to be felled, and he preferred to strike from a distance at any rate, so he simply wore his helmet.
There was a detachment of human clerics sent with them in an attempt to limit casualties. They were led by Bishop Havel himself, after he heard there was a dragon. The man and most of his closest followers were armored in stone cut from the very mountain, and had to wear special rings to not be crushed by their own armor. Instead, they crushed others and spread news of Lord Gwyn amongst the humans. In return, the humans were granted the great city of New Londo. The cavern it rested in took quite some time for the giants to excavate, but it was well worth it. Ciaran had to admit, the city had charm.
The Bishop heard the roar of the Dragon and raised his hefty stone spear to signal a halt. He turned to address his group. "Men! Today we seek not the hide of the Dragon, but the hide of man! Put the miracles we have learned to good use, there shall likely be blood to wade through aplenty!" He gestured, putting the spear over Ciaran's head. "Your priority is healing our two Knights!" the spear went over the man next to the bishop, who wore a rough hood in the place of a helmet. "Casper will lead half of you lot to follow her, I shall lead another to keep pace with Hawkeye Gough! Move out!"
As the Bishop finished his speech, there was a whoosh as one of Gough's enormous arrows flew over their heads. A second later, there was a surprised roar. Ciaran drew her swords and dashed toward the nearest building.
"Gods, how do we keep up with her?!"
Casper laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "You can't. Just follow me and form up."
It was nearly twilight, a very advantageous fact for Ciaran. She moved as swiftly as a loosed arrow between shadows, circling the Dragon that easily filled the town square.
Jerdtkragen was built differently from any other dragon she had seen, but that was to be expected. It was theorized that the Dragons began to change and specialize after the arrival of disparity. No wings sprouted from the spiny back of this beast. Iridescent green scales reflected the dying light, and three glaring blue eyes shone like coals in the beast's head under two curved horns. Good, those were Ciaran's target, as the scales would take massive force to pierce. Gough's arrow was not lodged very far into the Dragon's back.
Wait, movement. Instead of trying to determine where the arrow had come from, Jerdtkragen was snapping and swiping at something on the nearby ground. Scratch that, two somethings.
She flipped nimbly off of a roof onto the next one. There were moans and screams coming from inside this house, but Casper's detachment was nearby, and they broke the door in from the rear of the house, keeping it in between them and the Dragon. They would save whom they could, she needed to focus on the…
Was that a wolf?
Indeed it was. Ciaran had seen it's like before. It was a great grey wolf, and they could get quite large in time, but she had never seen one wield a sword.
It clenched its jaws around the hilt of the rusty sword, and swiped at the Dragon's face with it. Jerdtkragen leapt backward out of the wolf's swing, only to be assaulted by another figure. Ciaran half expected another wolf, but was rewarded with a different sight. A man swung a bent greatsword, striking the Dragon in the snout and shattering his sword in the process. This was no human. The reverberation from that blow alone would have thrown a human to the ground. This figure stood almost twice the height of a man, with tanned skin and tousled black hair. A rag had been wrapped over his face in an attempt to protect himself from the fumes.
Jerdtkragen reared up and unleashed a torrent of the noxious gas directly onto the man, who raised his dingy greatshield to block. When the smoke cleared, he was obviously not hanging on to consciousness very tightly. The Dragon performed a quick tail swipe that threw both man and wolf into buildings with a crunch of timber. He raised a claw to finish them off, but received an arrow in his nose instead. The shaft bit deep, and Jerdtkragen roared and thrashed his tail.
Ciaran had managed to sneak around behind the beast and leap onto its back amidst his torment. She ran between the spines as if sprinting through a forest, hanging onto one when the Dragon began to smash nearby houses. She leapt up the beast's neck swiftly, realizing that he would likely sense her at any moment. Jumping from Jerdtkragen's forehead, she swung on one of his horns and thrust her dark sliver tracer deep into the beast's center eye.
While she couldn't hear the hiss of the poison working over the screeching, Ciaran knew it would run its course. She reversed her swing and performed a similar move with the left eye before being shook from the Dragon's head. She landed badly.
Enraged beyond sense, Jerdtkragen caught sight of a cleric from his good eye. A swipe of a claw separated the human's torso from his body. Unfortunately, the strike also shattered a nearby wall, revealing the rest of the group. They immediately scrambled, yet the beast's black fangs closed on two before they got far.
He was dousing the area in more of his sleeping gas when a stone bounced off of his forehead. He roared, trying to find the culprit, but got an arrow in his center eye socket. Another stone flew, and Ciaran traced it back to the man from earlier. He was getting up from stroking the fallen wolf, and had murder in his pale blue eyes. He clutched his scarred greatshield in his right hand and his shattered sword in his left.
"Beast! Pray you speak with me!"
Ciaran couldn't have imagined a worse move at that point. The man wore little to no actual armor, covered with cloth armor mostly, was obviously already injured, and held a shattered weapon. Not to mention that he had drawn attention to himself from the Dragon.
Jerdtkragen screeched and swung his head towards the man, keeping him in sight of his last eye. The dead man rolled to the side and struck out with his shield, deflecting the attack. But the tide quickly took a turn for the worst as the Dragon deftly recovered and grabbed the fighter, his jaws clamped around the man's abdomen. There was a sickening crunch as Jerdtkragen bit down, joined by a scream from the man as his legs went limp.
Ciaran made haste for the last remaining eye, but her adversary was backing up with the mortally injured fighter in his jaws. The man had dropped his shield, but the broken sword still remained. Blood fell from his mouth as he roared "You've given my sword a sharper blade!" and plunged it into the last eye.
Ciaran was forced to step back as the Dragon began his death throes. There was a frantic flurry of claws and tail swipes all around, flattening houses like toys. The fighter fell from the beast's jaws, nearly torn in two. Ciaran crouched nearby and waved her gold tracer back and forth in the air, its glowing appearance signaling the remaining clerics. "Over here! Healing!" She grimaced as she inspected the wounds. It didn't look good. "What were you thinking? That was a Dragon, not some bandit to play with!" She didn't expect a reply.
There was a wet gasping sound that surprised her more than the sound of the Dragon falling to the ground for the last time. "This…this is m-my…home." She looked over to see the man's head fall limp against the ground, a light appearing to fade from his eyes as the remaining clerics gathered and formed a circle. The golden light began to shine, but Ciaran knew it couldn't bring back the dead.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Ornstein kept a regular pace among the pillars, keeping a sharp eye on the Great Lord's youngest child. There was a time when the Dragonslayer would have considered this sort of thing to be far from his duty, but recent events had changed his mind. Lord Gwyn had met with him personally, telling him many things about the politics between the gods. Most of the local deities had worked together to battle the Everlasting Dragons and bring on the Age of Fire in earnest, but after that it seemed that each had a different plan for the impending Age.
In short, there were too few that Lord Gwyn trusted. Ornstein was honored to be among their number. His Lord had been more than generous to his allies in the Captain's opinion, going so far as to grant a shard of his own Lord Soul to the four human kings that ruled over New Londo.
The Great Lord was truly convinced of the Witch of Izalith's loyalty, yet knew virtually nothing of her plans and workings. This worried him, but there were more pressing threats to face. While he may not understand her very much, there were those he understood far less.
Gravelord Nito had vanished underground almost immediately after the war with the Dragons. The dark deity did not speak a single word in his existence, yet had gathered credible power in a surprisingly short time. The First of the Dead was an enigma, as no one even knew what kind of entity he was, or if it was even correct to call Nito a 'he'. His motives were only slightly less murky. If one was to journey into the catacombs, they would find that the dead therein might wake at their presence. After a few attempts to do just that, it became obvious that the Gravelord wished to be left alone.
Seath the Scaleless had always made Ornstein a little queasy. The Dragon had been granted a dukedom after betraying his kind during the war. Ornstein agreed with Bishop Havel on this point; a traitor would likely remain a traitor.
Ornstein slipped behind a pillar to escape Gwyndolin's gaze. He had paused by a nondescript corner of a hall that saw little use. There was a faint humming sound, and the wall faded as if it were never there. Ornstein narrowed his blood red eyes. What was a secret chamber doing in his citadel, and how had he never come across it?
Magic, of course. The youngest child was quite adept in it, and might even rival Seath one day. The Duke had been granted an archive on a nearby mountain to conduct his…research. The presence of a Dragon so close already worried Ornstein, but he was sure he had heard a scream come from the archive as he made his rounds one night. There was no doubt about it, that one gave him many sleepless nights, but he was certain that he could be dealt with if it came to that. After all, the Captain had slain Dragons before, and they had had the characteristic stone scales that kept them immortal. The Duke lacked such, but then again that was the object of his research, as far as he knew.
He had waited long enough. Moving with as much stealth as he could muster, he ventured closer to the archway. It was a little short for him, but he could make it in a crouch. The inside was dark, but lit at wide intervals by crystals set into the walls. He realized just how dark it was when the entrance sealed itself behind him. His tactical mind went berserk.
No need to panic, the Great Lord's son is NOT a combatant. I will just wait here for him to return, and have a word with him. But then again, Lord Gwyn had asked that this task be carried out in secrecy. He pressed on the wall that had not existed a few seconds ago, but it was solid brick. He knew he was capable of breaking his way out, but what then? Explain a hole in the wall? Not likely.
He would journey on. If he was discovered, than that was that. He took a deep breath to still his heart. This was NOT a battlefield. There were no Dragons here, and there would be no casualties today.
He pressed forward in a crouch, ears straining to catch any sign of what was going on ahead. It didn't take long for them to pick something up.
There was a murmuring coming from up ahead, very obviously Gwyndolin's voice. His tones suggested he spoke to someone, but who would be lurking in this forsaken tunnel? Perhaps Lord Gwyn was correct to be so wary. At the start, Ornstein had wondered at his King's suspicion of his own son, but this wasn't the first time the boy had been seen slinking off. Ornstein doubted that he understood Gwyndolin any better than his Lord did.
As he drew nearer, Ornstein could make out the vague sound of a second voice. It was scratchy but quiet, and he still had difficulty understanding its words, but he could hear Gwyndolin's voice clearly.
"It caused such an atrocity in truth? We have spoken often, yes, but thou hath not given much to me in the way of absolutes."
The Captain found himself able to see into a tall chamber where the youngest child resided, his snake-like limbs twitching in irritation. But where was his company?
"Do not question my judgment, boy. Sin is mine to see, and of it I drink." The voice croaked.
There was the source. Ornstein squinted his eyes. It appeared to be a stone door, set into the rearmost wall. The voice issued from beyond it.
There was an unsettling silence all of a sudden, followed by a slow chuckle. "Ah, the sin of eavesdropping. I shall leave thee to it, good Captain. Thine flesh already bears the mark of thine wrongs."
Gwyndolin spun around surprised to see Ornstein rise to his feet in the height of the chamber. The Dragonslayer was several feet the taller of the two.
"What is this?!"
Ornstein set his jaw. "I'm disappointed, master Gwyndolin. Skulking about in the shadows, speaking with the likes of whatever being resides here!" He strode to the door, determined to shed light on the source of that odd voice. Undoing the latch, he pulled on the heavy stone door, and it swung open on noiseless hinges.
To reveal a wall.
The Captain gave Gwyndolin a stern look. "Show me what is really there."
The youth shook his head, eyes wide. "No, there is no illusory magic to be found upon that wall!"
Ornstein frowned, pressing his hand against the bricks. They were faintly damp, simply from being in such a place for an extended amount of time. "What manner of trickery is this then? Where is that other person?"
A rebellious light came into the young lord's eyes. "They appear to have vanished, my liege."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Quite understandably, Ornstein was having a bad day. So when he arrived in the entrance hall to find a man bleeding all over the white tiles, things quickly spiraled out of control.
"What is the meaning of this?! Who is this and what is he doing here?!"
Gough rubbed the back of his neck. "I do apologize, Ornstein. This man performed an astounding act of bravery this day, leading to the death of the Dragon Jer—"
Ornstein cut him off. "And what of this?" He gestured to the pile of clerics lying in a heap around the giant.
Changing gears took Hawkeye a little while. "Astounding act of bravery…"
Ciaran appeared to his left. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and I'm not which side of it this man was on." She gestured to the clerics. "They wore themselves out trying to heal him for what he did for the human town, so Gough carried them back."
Ornstein snorted. "That's against protocol. They must be ready to spread their abilities to those who may need it."
Ciaran frowned. "Look, I want him out of here as badly as you do, and you're not helping. We were going to bring him before the Sunlight Princess."
"The Sunlight Princess! Who is this man, to obtain such treatment?"
The man on the floor began coughing wetly, and a red spray painted the tiles. With titanic effort, he lifted his head slightly to look at them. "A—Artorias. My name is Artorias." With that, he lapsed back into unconsciousness.
Ornstein stared at the man for a few moments, his anger cooling down. Eventually, he spoke. "Very well, let us bring them all."
"…slew the Dragon Jerdtkragen…"
The Captain took a last inventory of all the bodies the Hawkeye carried. "…is that a wolf?"