AU NOTE: Read up on a lot of fanfics and was astonished by how much I have missed out on, especially for the Halo and RWBY universes though with RWBY, I'm kind of mixed especially the MExHalo genre but there are some great gems inside of those stories. Sadly though it seems not many would get a update.
For those wondering when I will update the LOTR/DS, trust me I'm tryin to update that, but with rewatching the LOTR scenes and getting insight on missed out epics from the books I'm torn between continuing what I've set up or going with a full on edit. Hopefully I can do minimal edits to what I have plan and continue on, but man do I want to do justice for the LOTR characters! A childhood movie favorite of epic proportion and wonderful story ideals, mixed with the dark setting of DS? AH the struggle!
Nonetheless, I present to you my own story for a RWBYxDS, updates will be sporadic as will my other stories.
The [Age of Dark], long has it been held back from being ushered in by those who claim to be allies of the dark and those who fear its very presence. For if it is allowed to fester and grow within the light then it will eventually overthrow the [Age of Fire].
But every age has its time, the [Age of Fire] has gone, replaced now by the [Age of Dark], but even it too is fading away, as embers of past lords from the [Age of Fire] condense into one spark within the endless void of darkness. Such a small spark dancing in the perpetual dark, it may not seem much to the average viewer who would believe it to be nothing but a fading spark, but that very spark will not fade, but ignite a new age, though this age shall not be another [Age of Fire].
No, it will be free from the cycle of light and dark. This new age shall emerge from the abyss of darkness, untainted by the past horrors and sins that are not of their own choice. Yes~ an age that will not be bound by the choices of long deceased Gods.
Yet... There will forever be pieces of the past that shall remain. Remnants of a past long forgotten, names forever lost in time... Until now.
I still live… ; mused the Lone Knight resting by his bonfire that lit away the night around him. Oddly enough despite being undead, his body could still feel the chilly night air around him and the warmth that the fire gave off, its heat clinging onto his ridged armor plates and chainmail.
Though the air was slightly chilly, the creation of the bonfire just for the simple notion of staying warm was not its sole purpose. It was just something deep, innate, that drove him to do so, after all, this Lone Knight lived through the feared and despised [Age of Dark] and emerged unscathed, even if he did not encounter the supposed monstrosities that lurked in the dark. The horrors and monstrosities that he had encountered were numerous and varied throughout his journey, that he had also considered such beings to also exist within the [Age of Dark] as specters or sprites.
He lingered upon that very thought, a topic most distasteful but worrying, as foes once combatted may also be found again within the dark, as echoes of what they once were. Notably the numerous Warriors who took it upon themselves to combat against the Dark, which they and many others from ages past, have aptly named [The Abyss].
*crack*
The log within the bonfire splitted itself in two, bringing the Knight out of his rumination, his attention now set on the split log, watching as wisp of white steam escaped away from the burning log, reminding him of a red hooded knight and his once thought loss miracle and religion.
He sighed in dejection, remembering the ill fated moment the two crossed blades with one another. Gael was his name, he was a knight of [The Way of White] covenant, seekers of kindle for the [Age of Fire] but are more known for their undead hunts. When people began to not stay dead and the curse of undeath was made known to all, most saw fit to name them jailers of the undead but the unofficial title did not stick with these heroic individuals, as soon enough the curse of undeath began to run rampant even within their covenant, forcing those in charge to send those with the curse on pilgrimages to help the undead. Who was foretold would link themselves to the First Flame, saving the [Age of Fire] and freeing all from the curse of undeath and keeping the Abyss at bay.
The Knight chuckled at the irony of the linking of the flame, because in the end, all it was, was just to prolong the inevitable end of the [Age of Fire], as well as temporarily getting rid of the curse for those who have not died yet. Allowing for many to continue their normal lives, while those already affected by undeath were shunned and ostracized, be they family, or friends.
A well thought out lie that did its duty even to the last days of the [Age of Fire].
In the waning days of [The Way of White]'s covenant, the church of the Aldrich faith began to cull the old religious covenant, no matter the depth of history they possessed onlookers theorized that it was due to jealousy from the Aldrich faith, as they were nothing but a faith prompt up by a canibalistic saint to combat [The Deep] another title for the dark. Theories varied far in between horrific rumors, and simple struggle for power and faith within their organizations, but the true reason behind their prosecution of [The Way of White] would forever be lost to time and secrecy.
Gael's covenant, now considered heretical in the eyes of the Aldrich faith and their followers, ran and hid away from the public, taking shelter within towns and villages that still supported their ancient religion.
Even if their covenant waned in numbers when compared to the Aldrich faith, the warriors that still pledged themselves to [The Way of White] were nothing to scoff at. Most were high knights within their order, even if the standard warrior of white did not receive such a title of rank within their covenant, their skills made up for more of their strength than a simple title position.
At first any confrontation with the Aldrich followers favored the ancient religion, but as time went on the warriors of [The Way of White] began to lose one battle over the other, and even if the fallen warriors rise again to fight, they were immediately put down swiftly and brutally by knights of the [Aldrich Followers] for they were not the only ones to have knights of their own. Their armor thick and heavy along with a size close to that of the Lords kin, had the ability to channel faith into their weapons for added damage… These newly anointed knights were soon known to all as Cathedral Knights, the Elite among the [Aldrich Followers].
With their very presence being known upon the battlefield, victory became a fleeting thought for their foes as once thought assured victory for the followers of [The Way of White] now turned to the [Aldrich Followers].
Curiously as the end came closer to the religious war between the two covenants, the Aldrich faith had begun to take droves of prisoners rather than simply purging them outright in fanatical glee and claiming whatever souls and valuables they held upon themselves. The warriors were taken away to be stripped of their belongings, leaving all but their weapons behind, secured away, but within their cells a suit of fine crafted armor engraved with markings of nobility was left for them to find, each set with a notable red hood dyed in the color of red.
And those who were not warriors of white but were instead the common folk, were instead carted away to the capitol save for those closest to the warriors.
These new sets of armor, given to them by their jailers greatly confused the captured warriors of white, as instead of endless torment to turn hollow, or become nothing but horrid abominations of rumors that followed the [Aldrich Followers], they were given a choice. Either serve their captors as slaves in exchange for clemency for the surviving members of [The Way of White], or become wretched hollows and be forced to watch as their fellow brothers and sisters be executed and defiled by the fervent radicals of the Aldrich faith.
Stubborn and unwilling to let their pride and faith in [The Way of White] vanish, many of the jailed warriors rebelled, only to be put down by the Cathedral knights when upon the cusp of freedom. Again the Aldrich faith gave them the choice, albeit, persuaded them with incentives by displaying the surviving members of [The Way of White], from priests, nuns, fathers, mothers, and of course the children.
While some did not cave in the children were the first to disappear, at first it was the orphaned children first, cries of surrogate parents echoed in the jails as they watched one child after the other get dragged away to oblivion. Their cries for help haunting many of the warriors, sending some into a wild frenzy as they clawed and rammed against their cell holdings to no avail. This tactic continued for days on end changing every once in a while for a Priest or Nun to be taken away, their cries for their beloved warrior to save them gnawed at their sanity, which turned the weak hearted into hollows which were shortly thereafter taken away so as to "Get rid of the waste", as their jailers called the hollowed forms of former warriors. This followed by the pleading of loved ones, from parents and child alike for their warriors of white to concede if not only to save the children but their loved ones and themselves broke the first few holdouts, which then cascaded into most if not all of them caving in.
It was by this persuasion that many became what are known as Slave Knights, while those who still held onto their faith and stubbornness were simply dragged away with their loved ones never to be seen again.
Gael himself would also share the same fate as those before him, Gael, Warrior of [The Way of White] would be last seen by his fellows, facing off against an army of Aldrich's Evangelist and their retinue alone. Although outnumbered, Gael made the [Aldrich Followers] pay dearly for their hubris, slaughtering droves of hollow peasants turned militia for the Aldrich faith, and slaying a great deal of Cathedral knights and Evangelists.
However, even Gael was overcome by the sheer number of his opponents, and also underwent the same will breaking procedure, turning him into a slave knight until his end, or any form of deliverance from his servitude.
Though the finer details of the battle were not spoken to him by the man himself, the Lonely Knight who stared at the bonfire's flame, had heard this sad tale from the young painter lady of the [Painted World of Ariandel]. Uncle Gael; as she so lovingly called him every time he was mentioned in their conversations within the painted world, it was during those moments did the Knight gleam a sense of understanding of Gael from the Painting Lady.
Even if they did not so much as speak to one another for the rare moments of time that allowed them to do so, Gael's summoned spirit's gestures and expressions, did well to communicate between the two knights. Gaels support, whether it be in defeating the [Twin Demon Princes] alongside Lapp, who was Patches in disguise, or putting an end to Sister Friedes tyrannical rule and finally showing fire to the young painter, or his constant markers left for the Knight to follow after him, to assist him on his quest of finding the pigment of the [Dark Soul] for his young painter. The Knight grew to admire the unbreakable drive of Gael, reminding him of himself.
Imagine his surprise, when at the end of the world, at the end of the long path of tattered red cloth markers, hunched over a corpse of a Pygmy Lord, was the man himself feasting upon the [Dark Soul] which was all but now absorbed into his very being. Larger, tattered, and very much corrupted from the Dark Souls he had collected within himself, simply stared back at the Knight and beckoned him, "Hand it over. That thing... Your [Dark Soul] ".
The Knight could do nothing but unsheathe his sword and ready his shield, realization donning within him, this was between the two knights… No phantom summons, No revival at the bonfire, this battle would spell the end for one or the other.
*crackle*
Another crack of steam escaped from another log, stopping the Lone Knight from recalling the intense battle that was about to ensue. But it did not stop his dejected self to recall his apprehension to why Gael had left strips of his tattered red hooded cape behind as land markers.
Nevertheless, Gael was given a warrior's death, and his quest completed by the Knight in his stead, who would shortly thereafter set out to put an end to the savage cycle of linking the first flame.
"Will there be another so-called prophecy for me, is that why I am still here? Just to suffer on this lonesome quest?" The Knight said disdainfully aloud, expecting the gods of old or new to suddenly appear and laugh at him, or as when he awoke at the cemetery of ash, expected an elderly voice to begin speaking of prophecy and his role in such a grand scheme.
Come what may, the Knight had grown tired of so called prophecy and only wished for peace, be it by death, or simply fading away in the sands of time like the battle between himself and Gael.
The Knight, like so many undead before him, teetered on the brink of hollowing if they so much as forgo any goals or aspirations that they wished to accomplish as undead, and if accomplished, their reward was death, peace, the ending that many wished no matter how twisted or tragic their end may be.
This was an undeniable fact, but even as he recalled his goal, it was long accomplished and he still lived, even through [The Age of Dark] for who knows how long. This paired with the new world he awoke to, only served to perplex him greatly, as, if there is no goal to accomplish and having already accomplished a lifelong goal before hand, how will he find his peace?
Thoughts of suicide came to mind, but were quickly shunned away, for what Knight would end his life by his hands for simply living again… Living; he pondered deeply upon the foreign word, slowly forming the word upon his tongue as he said it again in a hushed tone, again and again.
Only then for a wide grin to form beneath his helmeted face, which was soon followed by a deep boisterous laughter that echoed through the forest, silencing all that dwelled within the forest.
Once his laughter settled, the night had without his notice, already begun to retreat away as dawn came, lighting the sky again with light of a new day, the red-orange-like mixture of light was reminiscent of the waning age of fire, but instead of waning away to darkness, its brightness grew with each passing second "Praise the sun" he proclaimed with a chuckle and stood from his seated position with new found vigor, drawing his straight sword in one fluid motion performing a crescent slash, cutting the intruder in two as they lunged toward him from behind.
The upper half of its body, black fur and white skulled head, flew over the Knight and fell upon the bonfire extinguishing the flames and leaving the Lone Knight in the waning dark. He glanced toward the slain beast expecting the smell of burnt hair to reach his nostrils, the sight of a black furred beast laying there dead in a gory mess of red and black.
"Oh?" He exclaimed, confounded by the sight before him, the body of the slain beast slowly bled black tar like blood, but within seconds the body and its blood dissipated into a black mist which was carried away by the slightest breeze.
"A soulless being? Impossible… All beings hold a soul no matter how twisted they become!'' His disbelief was soon interrupted by the sound of wolf-like growls erupting all around him, followed by hateful snarls, and challenges directed toward him.
As if to prove him wrong, more black beasts emerged from their hiding spots revealing their characteristic details for him to gaze upon, inching slowly toward him in a menacing manner. Whatever these beasts were, the Knight did not fear them, instead he was filled with disgust by their very presence, an affront to the natural order of life itself, more so than being undead, because with undead they at least left souls behind when killed, even temporarily such as hostile phantoms, but these '[THINGS]', these black beasts disgusted him greatly.
His eyes narrowed behind his helm, taking in all the details of the black beasts, and almost compared them to the Lycanthropes of [Crucifixion woods], but the Lycanthropes were true beasts when compared with this rabble. The Knight chortled at his remark, the thought of the two wolf-like monsters fighting one another softened the narrow look his eyes had, as he glanced at the unmistakable wolf-like characteristics they held, but that wasn't the only thing he spotted, the unmistakable tremble within their muscular limbs showed upon the smaller looking beasts.
Fear, they, feared him, these soulless beings, feared him, despite launching a surprise attack, they still persisted in trying to kill him as seen with them inching ever closer to his position, flanked on all sides completely surrounded. The Lone Knight flexed his left gauntleted hand, followed by him rolling his shoulders to remove whatever stiffness was unbeknownst to him, and unknowingly a gleeful smile plastered itself across his face, hidden away beneath his helmet.
Without his helmet, the gleeful smile would do much to disturb any and all opponents, be they mortal or otherwise.
In a taunting manner, the Knight took a step fourth with both arms outstretched from one another, openly welcoming the beasts to approach him in all their entirety while stating his name for antiquities sake in proclamation "I, Leon Ems Asher, welcome you to your deaths, soulless ones!"