Menma's helmet is essentially a Ancient Nord Helm (Skyrim) But with only the eyeholes.
Anyway, welcome back my glorious underlings. Your Dark Lord has returndeth and ushers in a new age of Dark with him. The conclusion draws near, inspiration flows through my veins like the healing ichor of estus.
Firstly, to whom it may concern, we will be doing a Dark Souls 2 continuation, but think of it more as a spin off and less a direct sequel, as for all its foibles I still enjoy the land of Drangleic.
Though I'm torn on wether to use the same Menma or to start anew, that'll have to be up to you guys, I'm happy either way. Then again starting fresh would allow me to make a completely different kind of Menma, a mage perhaps? A filthy hexer? A spear-chucking cleric?
Ooh the choices!
Also, anyone wanna see a fable crossover? The idea came to me briefly. But considering the Digimon kick I'm on at the moment it might not be around for a while.
Anyway, we'll get to that later, shall we? For now enjoy.
Start!
Menma's felt the cool breeze against his skin and nearly mewled in satisfaction, he idly groped for the body of his significant other, only to meet air, cracking eyes open he was met with pitch darkness, his great bed, empty. The covers tussled and tossed about.
Snapping upright with more haste than was probably recommended for spine-safety, the King of Dark searched the room, the windows were cracked, the moonlight spilling through, the bed posts looked to have been gnarled from time, the room itself looked to have been absent for centuries...
Worry began to grip at his heart. Getting up the Dark Lord, flung the door open, this was Anor Londo to be sure, by why on earth did everything look so destitute? He began stalking the halls, downwards into the cathedral, Silver Knights's helmeted gaze following his figure with a haunting emptiness. Menma's eyes landed on one and he seemingly paffed and appeared next to the man, grabbing his shoulders he demanded, "Where is everyone, Sir Knight? Why is my room in shambles? Where is my wife!?" The Dark Lord demanded, shaking the Knight, the demi-gods armour clinking audibly from the movement.
"Gone... milord." Was the simple answer, Menma's nose crinkled with frustration, at his demand for more information the Knight shrugged, as his eyes adjusted Menma noticed his sunken in features, pallid skin and milky eyes. "After you went away many years ago... the Queen sir, she lost the babe. Everything seemed to fall apart without you, milord. People began to flee the city when news of another curse surfacing, news of a second Abyss, the Lady Queen took her sister and left, the Knights following after. We stayed... all of us stayed... tis all we've ever known, milord." All throughout the short explanation, Menma felt the man wasn't speaking to him, rather he was muttering to himself, looking through Menma.
The Dark Lord's brain stalled, he released the Silver Knight and stepped away from him, "I need to sit down..." Informed the King, getting an absent nod that he'd been heard as the Knight returned to looking out towards the abandoned city. Menma trudged out of the Cathedral, dark arms rising up around him to tug on the lever near the door, it opened slowly, ominously ushering his ethereal return.
The city itself looked... worse. Worse even more so than his first time here. "How?" Was all he could muster, falling to his knees before the steps towards the elevator, "How... did I come here? How could I fail... my people. My friends. My wife." His voice broke and cracked as black beads of liquid began to drip from his eyes, "My child."
Everything was happening so fast, or had it already happened? How had he come to this place in time? Why, was probably a much more apt question. For he had not wished to jump forward until he'd prepared the exodus.
And yet here he was, undoubtedly in the future, his personal future. His new hell.
What grand comic entity had he angered so that this had occurred, he'd planned so meticulously and yet he'd apparently not factored in spontaneous transportation. As though such a thing could be a factor in any plan. Magic or no, this entire chain of events was rapidly not adding up.
"If I wasn't sent here of my own volition, something else must have brought me here. But what else could even come close to being able to jump through time using the bonfires?" A stray thought acurred to him, like a teasing line of twine in his mind's eye. He entered his mindscape to investigate this train of thought.
He prayed he was wrong.
Mindscape
Menma appeared aside the Black Lake, his eyes catching his reflection for a moment, the still drying lines of liquid Dark that had poured down his face had put him in an even more somber mood, dabbing at the blackened tears with his sleeve, he strode through the ebony forest and came to a sharp decline into a hellscape, "Did you do this?" Menma asked simply, a red furred head rose to meet him.
"Do what?" Kurama asked, a risen brow.
"Return me to my original time. Did you do it?"
"Can't say I was aware we had returned to this time." Kurama was suddenly inflicted with ungodly pain, looking down his chest was marred by an angry black line drawn across his torso, the fur around the strike greyed and seemingly dead. Kurama bared his fangs, looking up at the horned, winged man before him, black smoke rising from under his feet and whipping angrily at the ground and cutting through the air.
"I will not suffer lies, Kyuubi. Tell me. What you did." Demanded the Dark Lord, the boney frame of his wings twitching, upon closer inspection Kurama could see his whole form quaked with fury.
"Feh yes I did it, I used your body as a conduit and trailed the line that savage creature Manus made in time, returning you to the moment he tore you from your time. Consider it punishment for your transgressions against me." Menma twitched and cracked his neck, the smoke seemed to pause for a moment before a great fist formed and struck right through the Nine Tailed Fox, Kurama's eyes widened as his mouth opened in a silent symphony of pain, agony and fear.
The shadowy fist held Kurama's core in its palm, withdrawing from the foxes torso Menma held a hand out, darkness formed into an orb, harmless in appearance, before beads of white began to surface from his body, spinning around the orb, Kurama fell onto his back, his fur molting rapidly, his skin aging just as quickly, rings of light formed around the now spinning orb with a gentle nudge it shot forward with more force and speed than any creature could hope to perceive, Kurama's skull was reduced to blackened goo.
The foxes body dissolved into orange energy that sunk into the chaotic hellscape it sat in, Menma groped at the core with his darkened tendrils, ripping and tearing at it, the energy mass poured over him, he pursed his lips for a moment as the new chunk of power flooded his body, it was meaningless to him though, he was far too distracted at the moment.
He fought down any transformative effects that power may have held on his form, as he wanted nothing from that infernal cretin, he'd already gotten his vindication, nothing more was necessary.
He walked away from the edge and towards the forest once more, sitting aside the Black Lake he felt a hand take his own. "Quela." He greeted quietly, staring blankly into the lake.
"Dearest..." Was all she could muster, the empathic bond between the two was both a blessing and a curse in this scenario. She could understand his pain, but by the gods she wouldn't wish this sensation upon anyone.
"Yeah." His answer was short. "I can't get back. Manus was the one to pull me through the rift. I don't even know where to begin to try." His voice cracked as he looked at the angelic, ashen skinned woman. Black tears pooling in his eyes, "I promised I'd save them, but I failed."
Quela pulled his head to her shoulder, which in itself was an awkward movement due to his height but it was managed, his shoulders shook and the large man began weeping openly, clutching the witch tightly, Quela did all she could but this was a sadness she could not push away. Molten tears dripped from the Chaos Witch's eyes and burnt the ground beneath them.
It then turned into sex. Which in a lot of ways ruined the mood, but also was something both of them needed apparently, the discharge of stress cleared their heads, Quela was thankful for the distraction, the joint connection allowed her to rest at ease knowing her dearest one had been relieved somewhat of his momentary torment.
The pair, sweaty and naked held one another close, the black mane of the Dark Lord draped across his shoulders, "I'd be lost without you, Quela." He murmured softly into her ear, the Witch felt a smile blossom on her lips.
"And I you, love."
Anor Londo
Menma stood back to his feet, patting down his robes and sealing his crown, in turn swapping it out for the helmet the Giant Smith had made for him, the faceplate folding down, the featureless nature, outside a few intricate carvings, gave it a rather ominous appearance.
"I will gather my men, and all that remains of Anor Londo before taking off to Firelink. Then I'm going home, Solaire, Siegmeyer and Priscilla should be there by the time I get back." Menma did just that.
His booming voice echoed across the commanding the Silver Knights to congregate, twenty seven soldiers was all he had left. But he could work with it, he had to work with it. All of the soldiers had the same misty look to their eyes, Menma frowned for a moment but blinked in surprise when the Giant Smith came plodding out with his tools, "Long it has been." Was all the lumbering creature said.
"Indeed. My sincerest apologies, sir smith." Menma bowed his head slightly before he heard a small huff of laughter from the creature looking back up he saw, through the open part of his helm, a pair of eyes lit up slightly.
"Helmet. You kept. Joy, I am." Menma felt a pull at his lips and tapped the helm, to him it had been a treasured possession for only a few months, to this ancient creature it must have been many thousands of years since he'd ever laid eyes on it.
"My Lord, what of the Duke?" Menma turned to face one of the Knights and hummed in thought.
"I will deal with the Duke, ready yourselves to depart to the lower world." Instructed Menma, the Knights all stiffened their stance and saluted.
It was a short trip, barely worth mentioning, Menma flew off to the Dukes home, it was less a house call and more fly-by, he went directly into a large crystal chasm, well almost directly, a golden Golem caught his attention, and if anything he knew that they had some significance, so quickly swooping down he sliced it in twain, a body lumbering out of it. A figure in near identical armour to his dear friend Seigmeyer, curious.
"Oh dear that was odd, I could hardly move yet it wasn't terribly uncomfortable... I must think of some way to repay you." She mumbled to herself, Menma felt déjà vu strike with the force of a thousand suns. "Oh! Have you seen my father? A suit of armour just like mine."
"Siegmeyer? Yes, I know him. He and I are comrades in arms as it were. Last I saw him he was headed to the Depths with Knight Solaire and Priscilla the Crossbreed. Though I am returning to Firelink Shrine soon to meet back up with them, if you so desire I can take you along." Offered the Dark Lord, the sensation of a bright soul in its depths calling out to him, urging him and making him haste this whole thing along.
"Oh that would be very kind, thank you dearly." Gushed the young woman, Menma nodded and bayed her wait here, a copy of himself appeared aside him.
"I'll return soon I just have some business to clear up quickly, if you have any questions he's the man to ask." Turning on his heel he took off once more, like a bat into hell.
The clone was near immediately bombarded with questions that Menma would later, affectionately, call 'The worst fucking headache of my life'.
There in the deepest part of the chasm lie a glowing crystal, he produced the Dark Claymore, the wicked hooked end gleaming menacingly as he approached the shining mass.
A great roar broke the otherwise ethereal silence, Orange warning him a feral Seath was on his way, "How feral?"
Unable to help you.
That was all he needed to know, Menma swung and hewed the crystal in two, a furious roar rocketed the air behind him, there stood Seath in all his alabaster glory, the Dark Lord turned to it and remained unmoving, a breath attack was launched his way Menma clicked and a dome-like barrier rose around him, solid dark mass taking the attack in his stead, crystal began to grow at the edges of the barrier, when the stream subsided Menma blew it away and threw the Dark Claymore to Seath's side, slicing off three of his pitiful excuses for legs.
Seath reeled in agony, Menma unsealed Monolith and did the same on the opposite side, more limbs limply attempting to wriggle about in the last few moments. With a great beat of his wings he flew around the creature and grabbed it by the final tentacle that could aptly be called its tail, with a heave he essentially suplexed a giant fucking dragon.
Menma proceeded to tear Seath's tail off and golfswinged the dragon's head off.
He got a Lord Soul and a giant, glowing magic sword for his trouble.
The whole event was rather cathartic.
Firelink Shrine.
He'd split the Lord Soul fragment up between his troops, mixed with parts of his own soul as a means to retain control, they all seemed to have more pep in their steps, bustling about the Firelink as Menma sat aside the bonfire for a moment, considering a few things he had to do before he left, lest he leave even more of those he cared for behind in this squalor of a land.
Yeah, that was gonna stay with him for a while.
Tsuki fluttered and tittered about the Firelink, excited with all the commotion the Knights were causing, perched on the tree overlooking the bonfire she lowered a pair of tendrils to her master, it was more akin to groping than patting but the message was received. He pat one of the appendages and looked to the crestfallen warrior, the man was wide eyed and seemingly awake, attentive as ever, as was Anastasia.
"My word, how did you manage this?" The somber man questioned, "Or that?" This time gesturing to the finery, the transformation, and especially the wings.
"Time travel." Menma answered simply, "Devoured the Dark Lord of the Abyss and became a Lord."
The chain-wearing man was quietly contemplating this, evidence showed the complete loyalty of these knights, and yet he truly could not believe such a thing. His musing was cut off when a hand touched the side of his head and his body was filled with vim and vigor, outwardly the pallid texture and colouration of his skin returned to the healthy fair colour of yesteryear. His sunken in eyes popped with vibrancy once more.
"You aren't leaving yet, friend. I won't allow it." Was all the Dark Lord said, before returning to the fireside, and patting Anastasia's head, "I will away for the moment, Knights if you see a company of three, including a large woman in white, inform them of my return." Menma held a hand out to the flames and commanded it take him down, the flames jumped and his body was reduced to embers, the transportation taking effect in milliseconds.
Quelaag's Domain.
The domain was much the same, he arose from the ember and brushed himself off, his removing his helmet and sealing it away he brushed a few stray locks aside, "Quelaag? Are you in?" He called out, the sound of a chair scraping and someone striking their knee against hardwood echoed, followed by a...
"Blood and fire!" Snarled a feminine voice.
Yep, she's in.
Menma strode towards the source of the noise and came upon the familiar scene of the Witches, plus their brother, at the table, engaging in conversation. "Ladies." He greeting with a courteous bow, "Gentlemen." He did the same towards Kirk and Quiran.
"Ah, dear one. You return, and so stunningly at that." Flirted Quelahr, ruby eyes glittering with mirth.
"Hmm yes, I'm good looking. Not why I'm here." He cut in curtly, she blinked owlishly, Quelaag smirked at her sister, Quelara smiled into her hands. "I have come to you all with a proposition, I am returning to my homeland, and wish for you to come with me." He offered, they all paused any reaction to the small joke and stared openly at him.
"It is as I say, I am departing Lordran, and in a manner of which I will never return, this is a one way, one time trip. So I'm extending olive branches to all those who wish to be rid of this fetid place." Continued Menma, "Circumstances have lead me to... accelerate my departure. I have a handful of things to do before I leave."
"That is quite the offer, I'll say." Mumbled Quelana. His dear teacher, ever the opportunist.
"How would you accomplish this? Boats, magic?" Questioned Quelaag. Menma was more surprised she knew what boats were, that alone came with the implication she'd seen the ocean at least once. And here he thought this lot had spent their whole lives down here in Izalith.
"Magic. Pretty much magic." Menma answered with a nod, Quelaag seemed to content to return to her pondering on the pros and cons of such an idea.
"Well anything's better than this place, Izalith is molten ruins and I doubt the handful of us can rebuild it." Surmised Quelahr.
"After thousands of years guarding a chaotic monster, I'd be quite bored of this place too." Added Quela.
"What of those who live in Blighttown though?" Quelana asked, Menma rolled his eyes.
"You mean the feral, flesh eating cannibals. Yes, I'm sure they'd fit right in at home." He drawled with enough sarcasm to spoil milk. Quelana looked slightly crestfallen, "Darling they won't notice you all gone, of that I can be certain. Your servants though, they may come. Extra pairs of hands are always useful." He said referring to the recovering egg-bearers.
That seemed to please her somewhat. "I go where they go." Was all Kirk said, Menma nodded.
"I'd expect nothing less." He turned to Quiran, "And you, young man? How do you feel about coming?"
"I've been standing before the corpse of one of my sisters for millenia, I have literally no emotional connection to this place beyond my family. I couldn't care less where we are, so long as we are together." Menma nodded, noting a few red marks around his body beginning to form, he removed a familiar black ring with a burning orange gem. And placed it before him.
"Just keep it on." Advised the Dark Lord, Quiran visibly coloured at this and slipped the ring on, the mutagenic properties of his flame seemed to subside rapidly.
"Thank you, love." Quela glowed happily at the gesture.
"No problem, darling." Brushed off the winged man.
"Well I have no grievance with a departure, shall we?" Quelaag questioned, Menma looked around and saw only confirmation he created a copy of himself and instructed it to assist them making it topside.
"I will meet you all at Firelink."
For those who were curious the Clone ferried them all up to Firelink through Bonfire teleportation.
Ash Lake
Menma appeared before his kin once more, looking up at the creature as it peered down at him, "You have returned once more, kin." Greeted the Stone Dragon. Menma nodded to the great creature.
"Indeed, I have a question I wish to pose to you, kin." Menma straightened and leant into his right leg slightly, "If you could leave this place, gorgeous and picturesque as it is, and see the surface, a new world and land. Would you?" The crackling of the blue flames from the bonfire he'd created not far from the dragon itself were the only noise for a good few minutes. Menma thought the creature initially found the question ridiculous but it kept its stare the whole time. Without blinking.
"We are curious. We seek not this, but wish to ask why our kin would provide this." Queried the dragon.
"We are kin, as you say. And I wish not to leave you here, alone and forgotten once more. Our bond is loose at best, but blue stone and scale we are similar. I simply wish to bring you home, to my home."
"Why would we abandon our nest for a new one?"
"New scenery, new potential worshippers, new knowledge." Rattled off the Dark Lord, "If you so desire solitude I can grant it, but when I leave, I leave for good. I don't want to go without offering you the chance to join me." The dragon nodded in understanding.
"We will stay. Our bones wish not to leave this land, our scales are shaped through time, our home is here. We wish you well kin, and gift you this." Curled in its tail was a small, oval shaped rock roughly the size of his torso, Menma paused for a moment before his eyes widened, as he opened his mouth he was silenced.
"Still your tongue, kin. For the answers you seek will not be found. Take this, and return to your home. We wish you strong bones, and hard scales. Farewell kin." Menma remained flabbergasted but nodded all the same and bowed deeply one last time before leaving.
New Londo
Finally he returned to the waterlogged city, egg safely in the hands of a clone not but a few meters behind him, overlooking the stagnant waters of New Londo, Menma could now feel it. The Abyss. His abyss. What was rightfully his. This was not a true abyss though, this was the rampant machinations of humanity consumed my fear and desperation. Menma's form melted into a shadowy mass and took flight into the waters a giant mass of blackness passing through the area uninterrupted, the only problem with this form was how weird every sensation of touch felt.
There was nothing quite like having water touch every molecule of your body.
Finding what he was after the Dark Lord melted into one of the larger tower beneath the water and went down. And down. And down.
And dooooown.
And then his form solidified once more, the Dark Lord looked around the abyss that had formed, all around him he felt... himself but different. The Dark Soul was an odd thing like that.
Not that it really mattered, already his presence was drawing it into himself.
Five figures immediately appeared, four of them being indentical, and the final being insultingly familiar. The four were large malformed humanoids, with odd bark-like skin, in a way they were beautiful in that sort of, otherworldly oddity sense. Each of them were male with grey coloured skin, grey coloured everything mind you, humanoids that lack the proper bodies of a humanoid but their heads were near perfect replicas. Horns grew from their foreheads and each had a different colour to their eyes.
One was pale blue, one was rose red, another was saffron gold, and the last had haunting violet.
And fifth figure looked like Frampt, but with rusty orange eyes in place of the yellow he'd grown used to.
"Oh great Dark Lord, you hath returdeth!" Harkoned the serpent, the four figures all did their best to bow before him, Menma continued to quietly drink in the abyss around him, smoke rising from his feet, a quartet of tendrils forming from said miasma.
"Speak, serpent." Ordered the Lord.
Kathe seemed to almost grin at this, "For many centuries, I Darkstalker Kath and the Darkwraiths have awaited your awakening my Lord, your appearance in Anor Londo a few millennia ago foretold the full return of the Dark, and so we prepared. Preparing this abyss to draw you in, preparing your Four Kings to serve at your bec' and call, snuffing out any who would come against your rule." The serpent kept speaking so Menma lashed the 'Kings' with his tendrils and burrowed into their souls, drawing whatever power was there before out and placing miniscule fragments of his own Dark Soul within, their forms rippled but remained more or less the same.
Their odd bodies in turn shifted into armour on 7' tall human-shaped men with horned helmets and tattered cloaks, each bearing a gnarled greatsword in the shape of their old arms.
"Much better." Menma said idly, "Rise my Knights. Serve your Lord as he commands." Each Knight-King did just that and rose to their feet walking to stand at his flank as Menma continued to drink in the abyss, each Knight-King was branded with a summoning sigil, the luminous writings lighting up on their chests before they disappeared.
All that remained were Memna and Kathe.
"Darkstalker, rally your Darkwraiths and bring them to the Firelink. We leave this wretched world behind in favour of fresher bounties." Kathe bowed and left, Menma spread out his arms and commanded the dark, "Come!"
Darkroot Garden; Tomb
Menma approached the final location on his impromptu bucket list, "Orange said she would be here. If it's lying to me I swear to me I'll kill somebody." Thought the Dark Lord, he couldn't maintain a poor mood at the moment though, a placebo effect of taking in so much of the Dark was that it just made him feel warmer, whole.
"So that's the cenotaph... I hope you're pleased Artorias. I am." In the middle of the mass graveyard lay a large stone slab dedicated to Artorias, a large blade, in seemingly perfect condition, sat buried in the ground before it.
Like the ethereal creature he was Menma seemingly glided across the ground towards the blade, and by proxy the headstone. As he touched the blade he felt warmth blossom in his chest, flashes of a happier time, and then a cold loneliness.
Abandonment.
Depression.
Fear.
Menma looked up as he heard a rush of air, and locked eyes with a familiar pair of white eyes, the creature leapt to the ground behind him and backed him against the blade prodding and sniffing at him with its nose, whimpering, whining.
Slate eyes looking at him, pleading for answers. Menma's stony pride and visage melted to the broken man beneath as he took the giant wolf into his arms, even with his prodigious size Sif had him beat. "My darling pup, I'm so sorry... I'm so so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, I never-I just-I wanted to..." He gave up on forming words and just wept into the wolf's side, Sif whimpered right back at him, trying to cuddle up to the smaller figure as best she could, eventually just laying atop the Dark Lord and crying pitifully.
Here she was, his big strong girl was all grown up, and he missed it all. Perhaps his mind had placed an even greater love upon this big beast due to the loss of his child, perhaps he truly did love the creature as much as he felt at the moment, he'd never know. Nor did he truly care. He had his Sif, and she had her beloved Master.
He could leave now. Knowing he'd finished his business here.
Firelink Shrine
The gathering of Silver Knights, Darkwraiths, Chaos Witches, raggedy undead, a giant dragon-crossbreed, a giant Crow, a giant butterfly that emitted its own music, along with a massive grey wolf with an even more prodigious sword sheath on its back had clamored and gathered together.
"I have gathered you all, for one purpose." Began the Dark Lord, seemingly standing in the air, Solaire, Siegmeyer and Sieglinde were all rather impressed by the showboating but the luminous Sunbro knew theatrics when he saw it, but by the same token was more the pleased to see his dear friend once more.
Laurentius, a young Pyromancer whom they'd found in the depths and befriended was very confused.
"Lordran has died, and is not fit for living. Wether it be Hollows, wretched abominations or other manner of foul creature, this world is set to never give you a moment's reprieve. And thus I say, no. I will not have it. As your Dark Lord I say we leave." His little speech ended, the Darkwraiths clattered their boney gloves together politely, quite respectful for a pack of murderers. Then again Menma wasn't really much better.
"Kuchiyose No Jutsu!" A mass of serpents began to appear, and in turn the large gathering rapidly began to reduce in number until Menma was all that remained, he looked to the world around him once more, "You took everything from me, Lordran. I can't kill you, but Kurama met his end. I can rest easy knowing my past may very well be vindicated in some respect." Turning to the large purple serpent at his back, "Let's go home, Manda." With a wide grin the snake nodded and took a hold of the Dark Lord.
Pop
And all those worth saving were gone from this world.
Lordran would be left alone, to fade into obscurity.
So ends the Dark Lords conquest of Lordran, a conquest of absence.
And so begins the return of Menma Uzumaki, to his home.
End Of chapter.
So, there it is.
The end of Lordran and a few chapters in the Elemental Nations. For those who don't care for an epilogue, this is the end. For those who wanna stick it out for a couple more, patiently await the next chapter.
If you liked it, lemme know. If you didn't shoot some suggestions at me, if you too wanna become the Dark Lord call 1800 Hell-Fuck-N1No now for your 14 day free trial.
Raxychaz!